by Grady, D. R.
He was coming to expect that sort of thing from a Morrison.
Janine didn’t so much as stir when the cacophony of the sirens pierced their eardrums as they cleared the doorway of the building. Outside, the noise threatened to deafen them. Greg waited until the ambulance pulled up beside him before he hurried to the back of the vehicle.
Paramedics met him there, and he wondered if he could let her go. She had been hurt because of him so maybe he should distance himself from her. A quiet little voice in the back of his mind reminded him that she had protected herself just fine. She didn’t need him. Janine Morris didn’t need protecting or him. His heart offered up a vehement protest as he laid her on a stretcher.
Greg waited until the ambulance crew did what they could before whisking her off to the hospital. Then he turned on his heel and faded into the shadows. Yet he knew he’d be back. Nothing could keep him from her now.
“Are you sure?” Greg stared incredulously as they all clumped in Janine’s family room after she’d been treated and released from the hospital. He sat close, holding her hand. Or maybe she was holding his, but he liked the closeness.
“As sure as I can be with the confessions of the bozos you all picked up.” O’Riley’s voice held confidence.
“They wanted to settle the score from nearly twenty years ago?” Janine’s eyes grew wider. Greg appreciated her horror for him.
“Apparently they didn’t like how Jonathan and Tasmin made out quite well monetarily when the warehouse burned down, even though their own grandfather had set the fire. Nor did they like how a certain dock worker never faltered on his way to safety,” O’Riley said.
“Why did they care about him? I can understand they’d be upset that Jon and I inherited all that money for the warehouse, but why care about a lone dock worker who fled for his life?”
“One of the managers did make it out that night, which your grandfather didn’t know. He saw Greg, saw in Greg’s hand a few documents that came up missing for the shipment expected that night. He knew they were done if that paperwork landed in the wrong hands.”
Janine smiled. “Which it did.”
O’Riley stared at her from across the room. Greg hadn’t wanted to rehash the night’s events, but then he did want answers, and the admiral had willingly driven over to Janine’s house after she had a rest. Now he filled them and Janine’s cousins in on what had transpired that night twenty years ago.
“Yes. Gilmore handed those papers off to the right people. The manager was forced to go into hiding and build a new life for himself.”
“Which he didn’t appreciate.” Janine adjusted herself on the sofa where they sat.
“Right.”
“But why come after Tasmin and me now?” Jonathan’s forehead pleated.
“It took twenty years for the man to figure out that contrary to his belief, his kids hadn’t received a cut of the warehouse insurance money—”
“Were they supposed to?” Greg broke in.
O’Riley shrugged. “Apparently he thought so. This manager, Malcolm Buxwell, faked his own death so his kids and wife would receive some insurance money. But because of the circumstances surrounding his death, the insurance company refused to pay out.”
“And he only just learned this?” Janine sounded disbelieving.
“Yeah. Buxwell spilled everything, seemed it was festering. The scheme he and his three fellow managers came up with to earn a little extra cash on the side came pouring out, including that night the warehouse burned down.
“He’s still furious that Old Man Morris set the warehouse on fire. Buxwell confirmed what another worker told us. Morris was enraged with his managers, and understood the only way to take care of the problem was to set the place on fire.”
Jonathan nodded slowly. “He wouldn’t have wanted even one of those guns to leave the warehouse.”
“Granddad hated the groups who bought weapons illegally. He used to growl about them all the time,” Tasmin agreed.
“Those groups thought he had the perfect set up to supply them with their necessary goods. Which is why they contacted him frequently,” O’Riley said.
“That’s how his managers met the men who wanted those guns,” Greg said.
“Yes. The managers decided even if their employer was too stupid to see the wealth involved, they weren’t about to pass up the opportunities he kept refusing.”
“So Daddy and Granddad died that night because of an arms shipment?”
Greg turned to Tasmin. “It wasn’t a little shipment that night. Nor was it only arms. They were also expecting a huge shipment of cocaine. Pure stuff. That alone was worth at least twenty million.”
“Twenty million,” Jonathan repeated, sounding dazed.
“Greg and your grandfather lost them all that money that night.” O’Riley’s eyes were intense.
“How?”
“Your grandfather set the place on fire and shot the four managers. Sounds like he missed one of them—”
“Not surprising considering the smoke,” Greg inserted.
“But he managed to kill the other three before they took care of him.”
“How did he die?” Jonathan’s voice was hard, and so were his eyes. Greg liked that Janine’s cousins didn’t seem soft or pampered despite their privileged upbringing.
“We still don’t know that. Buxwell nor our other informant figured out how they died. Both bodies fell through the floor which was weakened by the fire. They were never recovered.”
Tasmin’s knowing eyes were as wide as Janine’s. They looked almost like sisters, despite their different coloring and disparate sizes.
O’Riley shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Greg suppressed a sigh and said, “Sharks.”
Tasmin nodded wearily. Horror shone clearly from her eyes. Jonathan closed his eyes, as though he suspected the answer, but didn’t want to deal with it.
“Sharks would annihilate the evidence,” Janine said, and he saw her stare off into space. She grew up on Toliliel, so she was familiar with the wildlife.
“So did the fire. Between the sharks eating the bodies, and the fire eating everything else, the local police and investigators wouldn’t have had much to go on,” O’Riley supplied.
“That’s why everything has been so hush-hush all these years. They didn’t know if Granddad and Daddy were to blame or if the managers had double-crossed them.” Tasmin stared at her brother, revelation dawning on her face.
“That scene would have been a nightmare to investigate. Your grandfather didn’t leave anything to chance when he set that fire – he didn’t cut corners. The floor collapsed and everything fell into the sea.” Greg didn’t want to recall that nightmarish time, but the Morris’ deserved to think of their sires as the heroes they were. Rather than have the entire affair shrouded in shadow and deceit.
“So even if anyone tried to bring the guns to the surface they couldn’t have?” Jonathan’s voice filled with a little humor.
“Your Granddad was tough,” Greg verified. “They would have had to wait a long time before the sharks cleared the area, and by then, everyone was interested, so people walked by there often.”
“We’re forming a team who will go in to excavate the area now,” O’Riley said.
“The fact that Jonathan and I have held onto the ruined warehouse and haven’t sold it or done anything to it must have ticked off Buxwell.” Tasmin twirled a strand of blonde hair around her finger.
“Exactly. You two and your mother received insurance money for the warehouse, and then you and your brother refused to sell the ruins. Buxwell has tried to buy the old site for years.”
Jonathan stared at his sister, but Greg didn’t think he saw her pretty face. “I knew we couldn’t sell that warehouse.”
She shook her head. “It was all we had left of Daddy and Granddad. We thought it might give up its ghosts eventually.”
“So Buxwell has tried to ensure you two had fatal accidents these past few months?” J
anine asked her cousins.
“Did he mention them?” Jonathan asked O’Riley.
“He did. He was behind those. If you two were dead, your next of kin might be more inclined to sell him the warehouse. With that shipment of weapons still on the bottom of the ocean right beneath the burnt out building.”
Jonathan stirred. “But you’re planning on collecting the guns, right?”
“Yes. There has been too much interest in them of late. If we retrieve them, maybe you folks can do something with that warehouse.”
Janine raised a brow at him, and Greg assumed she was trying to discover if her brother and his team were the men selected for the assignment. O’Riley either didn’t notice her or ignored her.
The doorbell rang and Janine rose to answer the summons. She traipsed back into the house with about twenty people behind her. Greg watched as they fawned over her, and her cousins.
His eyes widened when the fussing spilled over to him. A few of the aunts and one of Janine’s sisters clucked over the cut above his eyebrow, while others thought he looked too skinny. Greg blinked at Janine, who rolled her eyes. Her attitude told him, just-accept-the-treatment-quietly. He complied.
Never had a flock of women cared about him before. Oddly enough, the walls seemed to expand, offering him even more air. That had certainly never happened before. He accepted the steaming plate of food thrust into his hand, and waited patiently as General Emma dabbed ointment that actually smelled good on his cuts.
He watched the others fuss over Jonathan and Tasmin, who had received minimal damage. Janine, having fought her way to the door, had sustained the most injuries. That meant she received most of the fussing. Greg paused to count. Wow, seven ladies clucking over their hurt chick.
Jonathan caught his eye and Greg grinned. The other man shook his head like he’d never be up for such treatment and that unfurled the last of his resistance. Greg realized he wouldn’t mind being clucked over if these were the ladies caring for him and so long as he could have Janine.
If his mother tried this, he’d escape through a fourth story window. Not that he believed his mother would try. She would instead hire a nurse to look after him, or call KC.
As though he conjured her out of the air, his sister swept into the room and plunked Macy down on his lap. His niece helped herself to a strawberry on his plate. She snuggled right up to him and he enjoyed her warm weight on his lap. Ryan settled on his other side and Greg enjoyed his wanting to make sure Uncle Greg was okay. Ryan also helped himself to a cube of watermelon and then a piece of cheese.
Tasmin eyed the little girl with a baby snatcher look in her eyes, and Greg enfolded Macy and Ryan closer and glared at Tasmin. She raised a brow at him, and Greg didn’t like the look in her eyes.
This woman intended to steal Macy.
But the warmth spreading through him at the prospect of fighting with family, rather than enemies who wanted to kill him heightened his sense of belonging. He wouldn’t lose his skills in this crowd. In fact, he might learn new ones on thwarting family members who tried to steal the kids he currently held.
Greg liked the prospect of many more babies entrusted to his care. He wanted to be able to watch Ryan and Macy grow.
Looking up, he saw KC had plopped beside Janine, and added to the ladies fussing over her. KC was busy leading the clucking women now as she pulled Janine’s shirt this way and that to peer at her wounds. Greg had to admit Janine took the unexpected examination with far more aplomb than he would have. She did signal him to help her, but he wasn’t about to relinquish Macy or Ryan until he had to.
He decided to let Janine suffer and pay the consequences later. Which oddly enough, when he thought about them, made him want to whistle.
Chapter 31
The fist came out of nowhere and knocked her into the wall. Janine raised her head and tasted blood. The next blow sent her to the floor and she prayed he wouldn’t hurt her writing hand. She needed that hand for when she became a surgeon.
When she thought about her special place though, Janine didn’t conjure it up. Instead she watched as his fist came at her again, and this time, using her own fist, she blocked it. His eyes widened in surprise and she kicked out, slamming him against the same wall. The one that held many dents from years of him flinging her at it. With narrowed eyes, she rose to her feet.
She towered over him and resisted the urge to yell in triumph. Instead, she leaned down and stared him in the eyes. “Never again,” she told him in a voice that mimicked steel.
“Never what?” His voice quavered and she spoke clearly and firmly.
“You will never hurt me again. I will not take your beatings. I am through with them and with you.” She rose and collected her things. Then she walked to the jetty and boarded the ship that would take her to America, and a life where she would not be beaten again.
Janine awoke abruptly and thought briefly about the dream. Never had she dreamed this particular one. But it released her from the nightmares she had endured over the years.
This new dream and her defending herself against Buxwell’s army had set her free.
Never would her uncle abuse her, even though he was long dead, his power was broken. The cycle stopped with her. She could and would defend herself. Now if she visited her special place, it would be because she wanted to, not because she had to.
Even as she gloried in the new freedom Janine felt that hated dark premonition cloud form over her head. Why? This should be a time of celebration.
So what kept eating at her?
She turned to look at the clock. It was time to get up anyway. She could start breakfast for her cousins and maybe she could call Greg to see if he wanted to join them.
Rolling out of bed proved a painful experience, but she persevered. Showering and dressing weren’t much easier, but again, she gritted her teeth and finished the task. Trudging down the stairs, Janine glanced outside. The day was already bright with a risen sun and clear blue skies. A bird sang a happy song nearby as other birds swooped in and out on their search for breakfast.
Janine called Greg, but he didn’t answer. Why not?
Maybe he was in the shower. She replaced the phone, only to have it ring the minute she dropped the device onto the counter.
“Hello?”
“Janine?” KC’s panicked, but also angry voice nearly blasted out her eardrum.
“What’s wrong?”
“There are some men who just surrounded Greg. They look really dangerous.” She went on to describe men who sounded remarkably like the Temite brothers.
“Where is he?”
“He was on his way over here for breakfast and when he didn’t come, I went looking for him. He’s in a clearing not far from here. We need to help.”
“Oh, we will,” Janine said and glanced at the clock. “Have you called anyone else?”
“Yes, I couldn’t get through to you so I called General Emma.” Janine approved of the anger in KC’s voice. She’d fight, not cower and that was good.
This is what had bugged her. She had finished her past, and broken the cycle. But Greg still had unfinished business to attend to. They still didn’t know why the Temites seemed so interested in him, but apparently they hadn’t lost their interest.
“KC call my mom and Aunt Monica. I’ll call Lainy, Treeny, and Shelby. Have each of the ladies you talk to call a couple of women.”
“General Emma is already on it. She’s roused her assistants who are busy calling everyone. We need to go help Greg, now!”
“I’ll be there in a moment.”
“Okay. Bring Tasmin and Jonathan.”
“You bet.”
She hung up the phone and turned, knocking Tasmin into the counter. “Sorry,” she hastened to help her cousin back onto her feet.
“It’s okay, I shouldn’t have stood so close, but I wanted to hear what KC said. Greg’s in trouble?”
“Yes. Let’s go.”
“Okay.”
“Wher
e’s Jonathan?”
“He went running. If he doesn’t he’ll drive us crazy, so I made him go early this morning.”
“Okay, it’s just us then. Let’s go.”
“Where are we going?”
“To finish this once and for all.”
Greg stared down the men coming at him from three directions.
“What do you want?”
“To finish old business.”
“What old business?” Greg heard the scoff in his voice. He wasn’t in the least intimidated by any of these men.
“You stole the papers that night.”
“What night?” Unfortunately, during his long career he had stolen lots of papers, so they’d have to be more specific. If he kept them talking, maybe he could get the men away from here. These men couldn’t hurt him, but he didn’t want any more trouble for the Morrison family.
“The Morris warehouse on Toliliel. You were there, we saw you run into the office. We shot at you, but you still managed to get away with the papers that told us exactly what we shipped.”
“What you shipped?”
Francis Temite snorted. “Someone had to supply those weapons and cocaine. That would be us.”
“Only you took the papers we needed to properly bill them,” John Temite said, and the men and their small army advanced closer. “We’ve barely recovered from that loss.”
Ah now things made sense. The problem Greg realized was they admitted to dealing in illegal arms and drugs. That meant they didn’t intend for him to live. This was just business as usual then. The shadows in his soul still lengthened.
“Yes, Greg Gilmore. You’ve been a thorn in our side for twenty years. Every time we thought we had you, you’d disappear. We almost had you about a year ago, but you slipped away. Some other guy, a Michael Lamont, died instead.” Francis didn’t sound like he appreciated that fact. Made sense though – Greg hadn’t lived as Greg Gilmore very often. More often than not he was Michael Lamont or one of his other aliases. That had apparently kept him alive for the last twenty years.