by Penny Reid
I craned my neck, peering out the window. Three police cars were parked in the circle outside the East Randolph Street property and a cop was waving us down as we pulled closer to the building.
Stan glanced at me, I gave him a short nod, and he continued forward slowly.
“You want to do the talking?” I asked Kat, “Or should I?”
She didn’t answer. Instead, her hand squeezed mine and I felt her tense, like she was preparing to flee, or she was fighting the instinct.
Pulling to a stop, Stan rolled down his window. “Can I help you officer?”
The cop examined Stan, then glanced at us. “I need to see some identification from everyone in the car.”
“Sure.” I squeezed her hand back, hoping to reassure her. “Sure thing.” I reached in my back pocket, lifting my chin towards Kat’s purse, encouraging her to take out her ID.
She did, but I could see her hands were shaking. I didn’t blame her. I had uncles and aunts who were cops. My grandpa on my mom’s side was a cop. Even so, even now, after being in jail, police offers who weren’t my family made me jumpy.
The officer came to my window and I rolled it down, passing over our driver’s licenses. He barely glanced at mine, instead peering at Kat’s like it held this week’s Powerball numbers. His stare shot to hers, held, and then he opened the door.
“Miss, I’m going to need you to come with me.”
She didn’t move. And she still hadn’t answered me. So I took the lead.
“Excuse me, sir.” I shifted in front of her, instinctively protecting her body with mine. “What do you want with my wife?”
The officer blinked, flinching and frowning. Clearly, the question had taken him by surprise.
“Your wife?”
“Yes, officer. Wife.”
He gave me a look, like he thought I was lying, and lifted his chin. “You have proof of marriage?”
“I just so happen to have our marriage certificate in my pocket.” I made no move to reach for it, I knew better than that. Waiting a beat, I asked, “Do you mind if I reach for it? Or you can remove it. It’s in my left breast interior pocket.”
He opened my jacket, his attention snagging on the ink at my neck for a half second, bouncing to my eyes, then back to my coat. He withdrew the folded copy of the postnup I’d printed at work, which happened to have—thank God—the marriage certificate at the back.
“It’s the last page.” I kept my hands on my legs where he could see them.
Frowning at me, he flipped to the end of the document, peered at it in the same way he’d peered at Kat’s ID. His expression clearing, he lifted his eyes back to mine and gave me a little smile.
“Mrs. O’Malley, huh?”
“That’s right.”
Reaching for the radio on his shoulder, and not taking his eyes from mine, he clicked the call button. “This is Officer Denver, from location BETA. I have eyes on the target, over.”
Not two seconds later, an answering call sounded from the radio. “Secure target and hold position. We’ll be right out, over.”
“There’s a bit of a problem with that. Seems Miss Caravel-Tyson is married. I don’t think that guardianship order is still valid if she’s married, over.”
A bit of static, then a voice I thought I recognized sounded over the radio, “She’s not married, she’s crazy. You can’t believe a word she says.”
I glanced over my shoulder at Kat, witnessing her sudden mood shift. She’d been startled and scared one second, and furious the next. But she kept her mouth clamped shut, giving Officer Denver’s radio a look that might kill a small mammal.
“Target doesn’t look crazy to me, sir. Nor does her husband, who is sitting here with her and just handed me a legal marriage certificate dated over a month ago.” He paused, his smile widening, then added, “Over.”
I smirked at Officer Denver, lifting an eyebrow at his strange behavior.
He must’ve detected my confusion because he leaned closer and said, “You folks can relax. And—sorry ma’am, no offense—but your cousin is a real dick.”
Kat huffed a surprised-sounding laugh. I leaned back in my seat, no longer shielding her body with mine. She and I shared a look while we waited for his radio to respond. We waited for a while. We waited so long, some of Officer Denver’s good mood began to deteriorate. He was just about to press the call button when the voice screeched over the radio.
“Now you listen to me, dipshit. You will not allow them to leave. I still have a court order and as an officer of the law you are bound to carry it out!”
Officer Denver leaned his head away from the radio, wincing and turning down the sound. To us he said, “If I were you, I’d tell him to get lost.”
“Thank you, officer.” Kat’s steady voice cut in. “If you could give us a moment to call our legal team, I’m sure we can get this settled.”
“Take all the time you need.” He pulled out his cell phone, stepping back from our car. “I’ll call this in and see what the captain says.”
I exited first, extending my hand for Kat. She took it, grasping her phone in her other hand and bringing it to her ear just as I shut the door after her.
“Hey. It’s me. Caleb is here and he has the police with him.” Her eyes found mine, and I was relieved, and maybe a little surprised, to discover she looked as cool as the other side of the pillow.
I motioned to Stan and she nodded, moving with me as I stepped to the driver’s window.
“You want me to drive you two out of here?” His eyes were huge as they glanced between me, Kat, and the officer.
“No need for that. Yet. I’ll let you know.” I wasn’t ruling anything out. If Caleb somehow managed to convince the police that his guardianship order was valid, no way was I allowing them to take Kat. “Call for backup, everyone in the area. Empty the building. Have them meet us down here.”
Stan nodded, grabbing his phone. “You got it.”
“And keep the motor running.”
He nodded again, already typing out a text to our nearby teams.
Kat, meanwhile, was pacing some three feet away and then back again, listening to the other side of the call.
She said, “Email it to Dan,” her gaze coming to mine. “He’ll do most of the talking.”
I mouthed, Is that Eugene?
She nodded, coming to stand next to me, leaning close, and tilting the phone so we both could listen.
“. . . that’s wise. He’ll try to get a rise out of you and he’ll have an audience, you know how he gets with an audience. I’ll send over the motion, but a document they’ve already seen will be more convincing than one they haven’t yet verified on a phone screen. Worst-case scenario, the Chicago PD will take you into custody until tomorrow when it can be sorted. At that point, you’ll be released.”
Kat nodded again, still looking calm and unruffled. Meanwhile, I was thinking, Over my dead body.
Which is why I spoke without thinking, “No fucking way they’re taking her into custody.”
“Ah, Daniel. You’re on the line.”
“I’m right here. They’re not taking her, do you hear me?”
“Mr. O’Malley—”
“It’s fine. We’ll be fine.” Kat pulled the phone from me, giving me a hard glare. “Thanks for everything, Uncle Eugene. We’ll be in touch.”
I scowled at her and sent a sideways look to Stan. He gave me a subtle nod. He was ready to go, just needed one of us to give the word.
She hung up, slipping her phone into her purse while leaning close and whispering harshly, “If the Chicago PD needs time to work this out, we’re giving it to them. I can stay overnight at a facility.”
“What if they put you in lockup?” I crossed my arms. “You been training with Fiona? She teach you how to be a ninja? You have moves I don’t know about?”
“They won’t put me in lockup.” She huffed an exasperated-sounding sigh, but her features softened. Inexplicably, a little smile tugged at her
mouth. “And no, I’m not a ninja.” And then, under her breath while holding my stare she added, “And yes, I have moves you don’t know about.”
Before I could react to that, the weaselly voice from the police radio called out to us, “Thank God you’re all right, Kathleen. I’ve been worried sick.”
Kat and I turned toward the voice at the building’s entrance, finding her cousin flanked by ten private security guys, all dressed in black suits, ties, and shirts. Once more without thinking, I stepped in front of Kat. Also without thinking, I sized them up, the lot of them. They arranged themselves in standard formation, but didn’t seem to be on high alert. That was good.
Also good, not five seconds after Caleb and his black suit gang left the building, I spotted Alex, Quinn, and another dozen of our team emerge right behind them. And then I had to do a double take, because among them were Sandra, Steven, Nico—Elizabeth’s husband and world famous comedian—Ashley Winston, and her guy, Drew Runous.
Ashley and Drew were in town to visit the new babies; we’d just spent the evening with them at Greg and Fiona’s. I’d forgotten they were staying with Elizabeth and Nico for a few days.
Caleb opened his arms as he opened his mouth, like the little fucker was planning on giving Kat a hug, but then his steps slowed until he eventually stopped, still a good distance away. He and his crew halted, glancing behind them.
I almost laughed when the little shit’s shoulders stiffened, probably when he caught sight of freaking Nico Moretti. Or maybe he caught sight of Drew, who—I kid you not—was the size of a mountain, looked like a Viking, and wore a murderous expression to match; I wouldn’t have been surprised to see him carrying an axe. Or maybe it was the death glares coming from Quinn and Alex.
Whatever it was, Caleb and company didn’t take another step in our direction. But bad news, now his guys were on high alert.
Quinn made it to us first, quickly assessing the situation. “We have more on the way.”
“We have fifteen, I think this is enough.” I lifted my chin to the Chicago PD. “Things won’t get ugly, but this makes for a good show of strength.”
He and I traded a brief nod as Nico, Alex, Steven, and Drew flanked me and Kat. Sandra and Ashley greeted Kat and then assumed positions just behind her, their arms crossed, eyes narrowed, looking like they were hoping someone would give them a reason to kick ass. As was my habit, I checked their hands for knitting needles and tequila bottles, which seemed to be their weapons of choice when faced with goons.
Caleb was shooting his cousin a confused, slightly maniacal smile, his fingers coming to his suit jacket. He unbuttoned then re-buttoned his coat.
“Uh, what is this?” His tone was light and condescending as he motioned to all of us. “Are you in some sort of gang? Again?”
Kat stared at her cousin, her features clear of expression. She didn’t respond.
I took that as my cue to—as she’d told Eugene earlier—do most of the talking.
Clearing my throat, I stepped forward, Alex, Quinn, and Nico close behind me. Sticking out my hand, I gave him my most shit-eating grin. “You must be Colin. You can call me Mr. O’Malley. I’m Kathleen’s husband.”
His smile diminished by degrees and his pale blue eyes narrowed into slits. He looked down at my hand like I was offering him shit and his nose twitched. He didn’t take it.
Yeesh, this guy looks even more like a weasel in person.
Really, it wasn’t the way he looked. It was who he was. He was a weasel, and so he looked like a weasel.
Lifting his chin, he gave me a spasmodic smile. “Kathleen’s husband?” He laughed, definitely forced, and glanced around at his security team. They didn’t laugh, likely because they weren’t in on the joke, nor were they paid to play the role of sycophants to a psychopath. “I find that extre-e-e-e-mly unlikely. How much did she pay you?” He took a step closer, lowered his voice, but not enough to keep from being overheard, “Or what did she promise you? Hmm?”
I let my hand drop and glanced to the officers who were standing off to one side, like referees on a football field. They seemed to be engaged in deep conversation, probably trying to figure out what to do.
I pulled out my phone. “Listen, Colin—”
“Caleb.”
“What’s that?” I glanced up from where I’d navigated to my emails.
“My name.” His eyes were hard and flat, soulless weasel eyes. “It’s Caleb.”
“Okay, sure. That’s nice for you. Whatever. The thing is,” I tapped open the document Eugene had sent, scanning it quickly and lifting my voice so the officers would hear, “I just received this from my legal team. This is a motion to dismiss your petition for guardianship, and your judge just signed off on it since, you know,”—I shrugged—“Kathleen and I are married. And that means, correct me if I’m wrong here, but guardianship over her person and property, if needed, passes directly to her spouse. Which is me.”
Officer Denver was the first to approach, holding out his hand. “May I?”
“Certainly.” I passed him my phone and he took it back to his colleagues.
Caleb gave me a smarmy little smile. “I see. You’re clearly concerned for her. When did you start suspecting her instability? Is she still hearing voices?”
I shook my head, seeing through his pathetic attempt at a trick question. “I’m concerned about you, Conner.”
A laugh erupted from his lungs. “You can call me Mr. Tyson, and why would you be concerned about me? I’m not the one with a history of severe mental illness, or living on the streets, or thievery, or prostituting myself for drugs.”
Because I’m going to rip your eyeballs from their sockets and shove them so far up your dickhole they’re going to call you Jimmy-Four-Balls when I’m finished, you sheisty motherfucker.
Quinn shifted restlessly at my side, so did Alex. I didn’t have to look at them to know they were having similar thoughts.
Making my tone carefully light, I returned Caleb’s grin. “You lied to the judge who signed the initial order, and you’ve been lying to the Chicago PD.”
His eye twitched. “I’ve done no such thing. Obviously you’re as paranoid as she is.”
“We’ve been married for over a month.” I tutted at him, shaking my finger like I thought his behavior shameful. “Obviously, your petition for guardianship is a reaction to our marriage. But lying to the police is a criminal offense, Carl.”
“I did no such thing—”
“While I don’t understand this troubling obsession with your own cousin, I do strongly encourage you to seek help from a licensed professional.”
Tiny Satan bit his bottom lip, his eyes big, a little wild, reminding me of a rat backed into a corner. “You refuse to admit she is sick and needs help? Then I’m not satisfied. I have a court order here which gives me emergency guardianship and you have, what? A document on your cell phone? How do we even know that’s real? No. No, no, no.” He turned to his security team, waving them forward. “Kathleen, for her own safety, will be coming with us. Let’s go.”
He darted to the side, as though to walk past me, motioning again with his hand for his guys to follow, so I side-stepped him, forcing him to back up or walk into me. Meanwhile, my guys took a step forward, preventing the black suits from making a move.
“Whoa. Okay, Cody. Settle down.” I held my hands up between us, like he was the crazy one, all the while I fought the urge to grab him around the throat and throw him across the courtyard. “I get it, I do. You have your hired guys here, and so you think you can do whatever you want. You think . . .” I leaned a little closer, dropping my voice to a whisper, “When you’re a Jet, you’re a Jet all the way. From your first cigarette, to your last dying day. Right? That’s your little fantasy?”
His face pinched, he reared back, eyes flashing. Who knew show tunes would piss him off so much? Or maybe it was the mocking way I’d said them.
Raising the volume of my voice, I continued, “But that’s not
how this works, Carter. This might come as a shock to you, but the law supersedes your wet dreams.”
Before Caleb could respond, Officer Denver stepped forward. “We can’t get ahold of the captain, and so we’re going to have to make a judgment call here.” He handed me back my phone, his mouth set in a grim line as his attention moved over the guys flanking me. “We’re going to need time to figure out . . .” Officer Denver blinked. “Hey, wait a minute. Are you . . . ? You’re Nico Moretti!”
I followed his line of sight and found he was looking at Nico. For that matter, now everyone else was as well.
Nico huffed a practiced, self-deprecating laugh and held out his hand. “Yes. Do you watch the show?”
“Holy shit, I can’t believe it’s you.” Officer Denver, as well as his two colleagues, came forward to shake Nico’s hand.
But not only that, they started patting themselves down, presumably searching for paper and pen.
But not only that, Nico had moved on to Caleb’s team, now stepping closer as he introduced himself to each of them, one at a time among whispers of That’s Nico Moretti, and prompt requests for pictures and autographs.
But not only that, everyone seemed to have forgotten about Caleb.
“Hey! Wait a minute.” Caleb glanced around at his security detail as though mystified, and more than a little pissed, but no one was paying attention to Tiny Satan.
Nope.
“Thank you for all that you do, officer.” Nico had turned back to Officer Denver while he signed a receipt for one of Caleb’s crew. “My wife works in the ER near downtown. You boys in blue make all the difference.”
“I appreciate that. Thank you, Mr. Moretti.”
“Please. Call me Nico.” His perfect teeth flashed in a moonlight, little fucking stars in his eyes.
Ah Nico, so smooth. He was butter and cream all wrapped up in a sparkly, pretty Italian package.
“Okay, Nico.” Officer Denver was looking at our friend with stars in his eyes and I made the mistake of glancing at Quinn, then at Alex, then finally at Drew.
Quinn, arms crossed, rolled his eyes.
Alex, his hands stuffed in his pockets, watched the scene unfold with a whisper of a sardonic smile.