by Alyssa Cole
“This is all fascinating, I assure you, but I was talking about whatever weird sexual tension is going on between you and Miss Jones. Also known as ‘a possible source of information but not likely to be incredibly helpful’ in your case file.”
Julian ran a hand along the back of his neck and then shrugged. “At a certain point, things took a certain turn, and in the interest of the operation, I took that turn with them,” he hedged. Now in the glaring light of day, the stupidity and impetuousness of his behavior were abundantly clear.
“Was breakfast in bed part of this certain turn?” Yates pressed. “We stopped by your place this morning because a break-in had been reported.”
Julian leaned forward.
“Seems like Bardhyn’s men stopped by your apartment too, but you were conveniently waiting for them at Miss Jones’s. While we were making sure you hadn’t been abducted, we found the remains of what looked like a delicious breakfast. And some condom wrappers.”
“Jesus, Yates,” Julian muttered. “Yes, we had breakfast. And, yes, we had sex.”
“Did you happen to get any information while you were busy getting laid?”
“I did, and she’s here now to give us whatever we want to know. Why are you pushing this?”
“Because we’re closer than ever to catching our mark, and suddenly Agent Julian ‘Strictly Business’ Tamali is fucking persons of interest and calling attention to himself with gunfights in the middle of Brooklyn.”
Julian knew why she was furious. She had worked hard to get where she was in the agency, and if she had used sex to get information, she would bear the stigma forever. Julian, who had gotten the job on a lucky break to begin with, was not only able to fuck whoever he wanted, but in her eyes, he was jeopardizing a case that was make-or-break to her career.
“Yates, I didn’t ask for that gunfight,” he said. “And you know I want Bardhyn caught more than any of you. What happened with Salomeh was unplanned and unprofessional, but it won’t interfere with us catching him.”
“It better not,” Yates said. She headed for the door, shaking her head. “And I expected more from you, Tamali. You could have wrapped that woman around your finger and gotten the information you wanted without touching her. Can you imagine how she must feel right now? Because if your limited male brain can’t empathize, I’ll tell you. Besides being pissed, she probably feels like gum on the bottom of your shoe.”
Julian sighed. “Have you ever met someone who made you completely lose your sense of reason?” he asked.
“No, I’m too busy working my ass off,” she replied. “You might want to try it right about now by squeezing any info you can out of your girlfriend and having the report ready for me ASAP. We’ll need something to tell Henderson besides the fact that you got some action last night.”
“Want to interview her with me?” he asked. “I’m probably the last person she wants to see right now.”
“If you think I’m going to make this easy for you, you’re crazy,” Yates said. “First give her the apology you owe her, and then do what you were supposed to do: get us some viable information.”
* * * *
Julian stood outside the small room, watching Salomeh through the glass pane on the door. He saw her mouth the words Talk to you soon before she dropped the phone into its cradle and wiped tears from her eyes. Even from this distance, he could see she was trembling.
The door opened with a soft click, and she looked up at him from under tear-laden lashes.
“I’d like to be alone,” she said stiffly, clasping the edge of the metal desk.
“I have to ask you some questions,” he said. He held his hands up in peace as he approached her and sat in the smaller chair across the desk from her. “And I want to make sure you’re okay. You’ve had a very stressful morning, and you might be starting to feel the side effects.”
“You don’t have to pretend you care. I’ll tell you whatever you need to know, and then I want to go somewhere else.”
She didn’t have to elaborate for Julian to know that she meant somewhere far away from you.
“Salomeh, I’m not pretending.”
“Sure,” she scoffed. “I’m sure you said that to Zemer and all the other women you’ve banged on the job too.”
Julian had forgotten his slipup. He thought of telling her what the word really meant, but given her current hatred of him, it was probably best to wait on that.
“There are no others,” he said, willing her to understand. “I’ve never lost control on the job before.”
“Do you want a cookie?” she asked coolly. He would have laughed if everything weren’t so terrible.
“Look, I’m sorry because my actions I hurt you. I’m sorry because I was wrong. But I’m not sorry it happened.”
She met his eyes and didn’t look away from him. “You’re not sorry you used me?” she asked in a broken voice. “I told you everything under false pretenses. You let me trust you, you made me feel amazing, and now you’ve snatched it all away.”
He didn’t know what to say. She had again short-circuited his ability to do the one thing he was supposed to be good at. He reached across the table to grasp her shaking hand, but she pulled it out of his reach to swipe angrily at a tear that had escaped and was tracking down her cheek. Julian’s heart felt like it was imploding.
“All you had to do was ask,” she said. “If you wanted to know something, I would have told you.”
For the hundredth time that day, he thought back to her doleful eyes, illuminated by fireworks.
“That’s all I was going to do, but when you looked up at me, I felt something. Truly felt something besides hate and anger, and it had been so long since…”
In that moment, Julian knew there was no repairing this. How do you remedy a betrayal? How do you fix something you’ve shattered into a million pieces? “I’m so sorry it happened this way,” he managed despite the desolation that weighed on his chest.
“Me too,” she said, finally looking away from him. “Before I give you any more information, you owe me something. It’s your turn to open up.”
“I’ll tell you anything you want to know,” he said.
“How are you connected to Bardhyn? Who is he? I know nothing about him except he’s Alexi’s boss, he set me up, and he may have Yelena.”
Brief images of a burning house, the smell of his life going up in smoke, temporarily blurred his vision.
“First, you have to understand Albania. When I was very young, things were terrible in my country. Communism was coming to a sad and disgraceful end. People were poor and hungry and isolated. When the Berlin Wall fell, we thought life would change for the better, but things just got worse. The government was so corrupt that eventually they just stopped governing. They took the money and left the weapons, and since they were the only thing of value, people stole them. What else was there for us?”
“Your family?” Salomeh asked.
“Well, my mother and father never participated in that life. They were honest people, and they hated my friends, but there wasn’t much they could do. So when I was at home, I was a good boy who studied his languages and helped his mother cook dinner, and when I left, I would go shoot guns with my friends.”
Salomeh had stopped trembling, and her attention was now riveted on him.
“How old were you?”
“About twelve.”
“Jesus, Julian.”
He shrugged. “It was the way things were. Albanians are a people who have been besieged with violence since time immemorial. When the government broke down, when all hope for the future seemed gone, many people gave up.”
“Was it so bad there? Was it really that hopeless?” she asked.
“It wasn’t hopeless. There were plenty of wonderful, hardworking people. It was bad, though. I didn’t really think so at the time because I was a dumb kid,” he said. “Think about the neighborhood where you live, how it used to be in the eighties. Now imagine the govern
ment dumps a pile of weapons in the streets and says, We’re out of here, have fun.
“I don’t think things would have been much different. Guns equal power. Power equals respect. How else were people supposed to get respect?”
“Did you ever… What did you do with those guns?” She was unable to meet his eye.
“You’ve already seen that I know how to use a gun, and that I will do what it takes to protect people. I’ve made some bad choices, but most of my knowledge of guns is from after I left Albania when I left to fight the Serbians.”
Julian got up and began pacing the small office.
“Birdie and I, even though we were young, we became the leaders of our little gang. It was so easy for me to talk to people and get them to listen. They used to call me ‘Mr. Irresistible.’”
“I can attest to that,” Salomeh said, and Julian cursed himself for letting that slip.
“Not like that,” he said. “Well, I was a teenage boy, so yes, occasionally like that. I got the nickname because I could get people to do what I wanted. By the time we were sixteen, we were in charge of a whole gang of boys engaging in petty crime in Tirana. I enjoyed being in control. But I also enjoyed making sure people got what they needed for their families, and that the kids in the neighborhood weren’t being taken advantage of.
“Birdie, he was always in it for the power. If I was around and something went down, I wasn’t afraid to use force, but ninety-nine percent of the time, I could get people to see things my way or to compromise. Birdie became a fan of sticking guns in people’s mouths.”
“Why were you friends with someone like that?” Salomeh asked.
“I was always the one who could make him be reasonable, could control him when he flew into his rages. I was positive he could be better than he was.”
“I see you’ve always had an underdeveloped sense of judgment,” Salomeh said.
Julian knew he deserved her anger, but that riposte had hit its mark. It must have shown on his face.
“Sorry,” she said. “Please go on.”
Julian took a moment to remember where he had been in his timeline and continued.
“As the years went on, the things that had drawn me to Bardhyn began to repel me. Instead of using his wits to maintain the pecking order in our little gang, he started relying on cruelty. Guns, like I mentioned. Knives. Torture. I decided that I wanted to do something more with my life. Something that could really help my people.
“Birdie didn’t expect it when I told him that I was quitting our gang, that I was going to go to university like my family wanted me to.
“He was enraged. It was supposed to be him and me forever, no matter how I felt about it. He thought I’d fall back into line. I thought if I talked to him enough, he would see my point of view. We were both wrong.”
Julian sat down again.
“What happened, Julian?” she asked, but her eyes were riveted to the thick scars on his arms.
He wondered how much to tell her but found he couldn’t lie to her anymore, wouldn’t sugarcoat what happened. She needed to know how dangerous Birdie was.
“He told the other boys in the gang that I had been informing to the police. He said I had broken my Besa, my blood oath, to the gang and asked what they were going to do about it. He also suggested a proper retaliation would be to throw a couple of grenades into my house while my family was sleeping.”
He said the words matter-of-factly, ignoring Salomeh’s gasp.
“I wasn’t even home,” Julian said. “He knew I wasn’t. Someone sent word to me, and I tried to make my way inside, but I was too late. My mother, my father, and my sister were gone.”
“Why didn’t you kill him?” she asked, echoing the same question he asked himself every day.
“I tried and I failed,” Julian said. “And when I woke up from that failure, I was being carted to the front to fight against the Serbians. I gave up on life then, fighting like a maniac and trying to get in front of any bullet that would have me.”
Salomeh shook her head. “I don’t understand. How did you end up here?”
“I was injured, and during my recovery I got taken to a UN hospital. I met an American peacekeeper, and when he realized I could speak several different languages, I began helping him with translations and other small tasks. I also helped him figure out how to get the other refugees to play nice, and he thought I had valuable skills. He told me about a program for refugees; qualified people could get visas and scholarships to go to school in the States. I wasn’t exactly qualified, but he fudged the paperwork to give me the chance to take a different path. To forge a new beginning.”
There was silence as Salomeh absorbed the horror of what she’d been told. That she was even still capable of feeling bad for him made Julian even more regretful he had ruined what could have been between them.
“I’m so sorry,” she finally said, but he didn’t respond. There was no response to that. Only actions could do anything to change what had happened.
“Do you know anything about what Bardhyn does?” he asked. He was tired of talking about the past. They needed to stop Bardhyn in the here and now.
“I know he sells drugs and runs illegal lotteries,” she said.
“He also sells weapons and fake passports. And girls,” Julian said. “Young girls from all over the world who think they’re coming here for a respectable job. When they get here, they’re drugged until they’re hooked and will do anything for the drugs or are too numb to care about who’s on top of them.”
“No,” she said, sagging in her seat.
Julian wanted to lie to her, but he would never disrespect her in that way again. “If Yelena is still alive, then she may be at one of his brothels.”
“Why is he still walking free?” she demanded. “Why haven’t you stopped him yet?”
“I’m going to,” he said bluntly. The gut instinct that had been muffled by Salomeh’s presence roared back to life, and it seemed to agree with him. “I’m going to take him down, and you’re going to help me. Are you in?”
“Yes,” she said. Her voice was strong, and she seemed reenergized.
Julian leaned toward her over the desk. “Good. Now, from the top. Tell me everything you know about Alexi Turginov.”
Chapter Sixteen
By the end of that day, Salomeh was dead on her feet.
Henderson, the man in charge of the gang squad, had arrived and questioned her again and again about her interactions with Yelena, Alexi, and Birdie. He wanted to know every detail to see if there was anything they could use to bolster their case.
Although his lined face was dour, he had been kind to her throughout the questioning. Almost too kind.
“Did you contact Yelena’s mother?” she asked him. She was so tired that her head kept dropping toward the table in front of her as they spoke, her body in desperate need of rest.
“We’ve tried,” he said, jotting down a few words before closing his notepad. “But she seems to have gone off the grid as well.”
“She’s a horrible person,” Salomeh said.
Henderson nodded. “She’s also a drug addict who, according to your account and our phone records, is able to stay constantly supplied with drugs despite having no discernible source of income. Someone is paying her to stay quiet.”
“Someone is paying her to let her daughter be molested,” Salomeh said. She thought of the man in her apartment who had mentioned Yelena as if he knew of her whereabouts, and of what she had learned of Bardhyn’s sadistic cruelty. She wondered what Yelena was going through right at that moment, and the possibilities so overwhelmed her that she couldn’t help the tears that spilled down her cheeks.
I just want to crawl into bed and hide under my quilt again, she thought, and then her breath hitched as she remembered her home had been violated. Had it really been that morning she had shot someone? That men had fallen lifeless in her kitchen? The apartment she had loved so much was now unlivable. Now she was jobless a
nd homeless, and under attack to boot.
Salomeh put her face into her hands and cried, too tired to care that Henderson was watching her.
She heard the door open and then Julian’s voice, low but urgent, filled the room. “Miss Jones has had an extremely long day, sir. She’s probably ready to pass out at this point. Would it be possible for you to resume your questioning tomorrow?”
She looked up.
He was looking at Henderson, but his gaze flicked to her face and then away, whatever he saw causing a furrow to appear in his brow. He looked like he was dead on his feet too, and she wondered why he was still hanging around.
“We were just wrapping up here, Tamali,” Henderson said with a wry smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so concerned with the well-being of a witness before.”
“I don’t think a witness has ever saved my life before,” Julian said. He smiled at her, that dimpled smile that had made her feel she was safe with him. She turned away brusquely and wiped at her eyes.
“Where will I be staying tonight, since I’m not allowed to leave?” she asked. “Is there a cot somewhere where I can get some rest?”
“Agent Tamali will be taking you to a safe location,” Henderson said, and when she opened her mouth to protest, he continued, “I can assure you he will treat you with the utmost respect, courtesy, and professionalism.”
Salomeh’s head pounded. All she wanted was to be alone, to have a brief respite from thoughts of gangs and death and, most importantly, from Julian. She needed to regroup, and when Julian was around, he crowded her senses and made her lose track of what was important.
Clearing your name is important, she reminded herself. Yelena is important. A one-night stand with a liar is not.
She reined in her hysterics and met Henderson’s eye with a level gaze. “I’d prefer Agent Yates, please,” she said.
“Unfortunately, Yates went home to her family hours ago. Her sister’s three-year-old twins have both come down with whooping cough, and she went to help take care of them. Do you want me to send her an emergency page? I can call her in.”