“Yeah, just like he learned this morning, and last night, and the night before that. I just can’t stop crying.”
“It’s been ten years, Zoey. It’s your mother’s birthday today. You’re allowed to feel that. Don’t walk away from what you’re feeling, because it’s valid. So go ahead and feel it.” She said the sentence that she always said to Zoey when her friend had these kind of breakdowns. They always came on days like this. Days that would always unofficially belong to her parents, like birthdays and holidays. “Feel what you’re feeling.”
So Zoey did, she cried on Angie’s shoulder until she didn’t have another drop to give, blubbering.
“I hate kids.”
Angie squeezed her tight. “I know you do.”
“I’ll never be as good a mother as she was. I’m going to completely fuck this poor kid up.”
“That may very well be true,” Angie soothed.
Zoey sniggered, appreciating her honesty.
“But it could just as easily be false. Statistically,” Angie began.
Zoey groaned.
“Statistically, you have no concrete evidence to support the former or the latter, and until you do, I think we should veer on the side of positivity.”
“Fuck positivity.”
“I say… you’re going to be an outstanding mother, Zoey. You know why?”
“No. Why?”
“Because ten years after the fact, you still cry your guts out for your late parents. That’s love. You have so much love inside of you that, ten years later, it still manifests itself this strongly, this passionately. All a child really needs is love and affection to flourish, and you’ve got both for miles.”
Zoey finally lifted her head, caught Angie’s eyes, and smiled. “Thank you for loving me enough to tell me that bullshit lie.”
Angie smiled back. “You’re welcome.”
***
When Angie emerged from the bathroom she couldn’t help the smile that split her lips at the sight of Val sitting on the floor next to the door, his head cradled against the wall behind him. At the sound of the door opening, he leapt to his feet and caught her eyes just as she was easing it shut.
“She’s fine,” Angie said. “Says she’ll be out in a few minutes.”
Val breathed a sigh of relief, his golden eyes swimming as the weight of the world seemed to be lifted clear off his shoulders. “Thank you, Angie.”
Angie watched his eyes fall. “Sometimes she just needs her bestie.”
Val nodded, still watching the floor at their feet. “I just wish I knew how to make it stop. If I could feel it for her, I would.”
“Me too.”
“For ten years this has been eating her alive.” Val looked up at her, his eyes burning red. “When does it get easier?”
“I don’t know. But you can’t torture yourself trying to fix it, or trying to make it better. You just have to let her feel her feelings. They’ll probably never completely go away.”
“But I’m about to be her husband. If I can’t make her pain stop, then what the hell do I really have to offer her?”
“I’ve never seen Zoey as happy as she’s been since you guys got together. She worships you, and that little one growing in her belly, too. I can see that, and I know you can, too.” She reached out a hand and cupped his shoulder. “But her parents…”
Val’s eyes fell once more, and his entire face curled with misery.
“That’s something bigger than us. Bigger than my friendship with her, and your relationship with her. We can’t fix what she’s feeling. All we can do is be there for her when she’s hurting.” Angie didn’t know what to say when his eyes met hers once more. She saw a pain in his golden orbs that almost rivaled the pain she saw in Zoey’s eyes on days like this. From the agony in his eyes, she wondered if Val actually did have the capacity to shoulder Zoey’s pain for her. It appeared he already was. It made Angie’s heart churn that he was capable of feeling this deeply for his future wife, and against all her better judgment, she couldn’t stop herself from saying her next words. “I actually just got a new lead in the case I’ve been building on the death of her parents.”
Val’s head shot up. This time, there wasn’t an inch of pain in his eyes.
Angie wasn’t sure what she immediately read on his face, but the change in him was apparent, and caused her to falter for a moment. “I haven’t told her. I don’t want to get her hopes up prematurely. But I might have something.”
Val took a healthy step away from her, causing the hand she’d been clapping on his shoulder to fall back to her side.
Surprised by his sudden departure, Angie crossed her arms. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell her just yet, but I thought it’d make you feel a little better to know that I’m working on it. Maybe if I can find out the truth, it’ll help her.”
“Wait. I just… hold on…” Val laughed softly, covering his lips with his hands as he stared at the floor. Several moments of silence passed before he finally looked back up at Angie.
She was, once again, taken aback at the change in his eyes. Something inside of her shifted to an uncomfortable place, one she wasn’t used to exploring when she was around Val.
“What do you mean you have something?” he asked.
Angie cut her eyes at him.
He repeated the question, and when no answer came, he pointed his clasped hands in her direction. “Can you answer that, please?”
This time, it was Angie who took a step away from him. “I should go.”
Val reached out and grabbed her arm, stopping her. “No, wait.”
Angie looked down at her arm, and then rose her eyes back up to him, noting his frantic expression. “Val?”
“What do you have on Zoey’s parents?” he demanded.
“I should really go.”
His grip tightened. “I won’t say a word to her, I swear to god. Just… I need to know what you’re talking about… because it affects her. And what affects her, affects me.”
Truer words had never been spoken. Angie pulled at her arm, breathing in relief when he released it. “It was a mistake to have said anything, at all. You’re too close to her, and so am I, which makes objectivity nearly impossible. But if we can’t keep a clear head, then we’ll never find the truth. I’m on my way to work right now. I won’t sleep until I find something, Val, I promise you that. For now, just sit tight. Once I have something concrete you’ll be the first to know.” She took another step away, frowning when Val visibly jolted. It was as if he wanted to reach out and stop her, once more, but managed to control himself. “Please just keep it to yourself until I have more?”
His eyes had grown wide, wild, almost animalistic. He licked his lips as she continued to back away from him.
“I will,” he croaked.
Angie turned away from him and moved towards the door of the apartment.
She didn’t know why, but she felt like she was making an escape.
From what, she had no idea.
That feeling didn’t subside until she’d closed the door behind her.
3
As Angie stepped off of the train a little later, flanked by the massively tall buildings of the Financial District, still thinking about the bizarre exchange back at Val’s loft, she was surprised to see Roman calling.
“Hey.” She smiled into the phone.
“Hey yourself,” he said. “How was Zoey?”
“Barricaded herself in a bathroom.”
“Not the first bathroom that girl has barricaded herself in, and surely won’t be the last.”
“She’s afraid Val thinks she’s crazy.”
“She is crazy.”
“That’s what I told her,” Angie laughed.
He paused for a long moment. So long Angie thought he’d hung up.
“I’m not doing anything right now… Do you want me to pick you up?” he asked.
“I’m already off the train. Have to take care of a few more work errands bef
ore I call it a night.”
“Do you want to call it a night together?”
Angie stopped walking, mid-stride.
“I’m meeting a buddy of mine to play some pool later. You’re welcome to join us. I mean, I’d like for you to join us.”
“Um…” Angie had a nagging feeling that this was a date, but that was completely impossible. Roman Romanovsky asking her for a date was a phenomena she’d only realized in her wildest dreams. After taking a moment to rein in her excitement, she realized he’d said a buddy of his was coming along, too. If this was just a friendly outing, there was no way for her to fuck it up, because there’d be no pressure involved. Perhaps he was lonely and looking for a new friend. One could never have too many friends, after all. Especially not her. Zoey was her only friend, one who was currently blockaded inside of a half-bathroom in Tribeca. “Okay. That sounds like fun.”
“We’re meeting at Roy’s around nine. It’s on 14th--”
“14th and Lex. Yeah, I know Roy’s.” She knew Roy’s a little too well. It was a bar she’d found herself in a few years ago, when she’d been trailing an unfaithful man for one of her most loyal clients, a renowned divorce attorney in Manhattan. Her only job that night had been to get proof that the mark was cheating on his wife, and the scumbag hadn’t kept her waiting for long. What Angie hadn’t been counting on was for said scumbag to be watching her out of the corner of his eye as she snapped photos of him bending his mistress over one of the pool tables. She’d believed she’d been tucked away, out of sight, but apparently she hadn’t, not nearly enough. The cheating husband had seen her, and come charging. To that day, she had no idea what he’d been planning to do, but she was sure it wasn’t anything good. She’d run behind the bar for cover. If it hadn’t been for the burly barkeep coming to her rescue with a cheap bottle of malt, she wasn’t sure she would’ve survived under that abusive, cheating scumbag’s hand.
She almost told Roman that she was still doing hard time on the ten year ban Roy’s had slapped her with that night, but decided against it. Hanging out with him was worth taking the chance.
“I’ll see you soon, then.”
“See you soon.” Angie was the first to hang up. She was still unable to shake the idea that Roman Romanovsky liked her, and not in the, you’re-so-cute-I-could-just-eat-you-up way that most hot guys liked her. She felt he genuinely liked her, and it scared her to death.
With a deep breath, she looked up, seeing that, thanks to Roman, she’d made the walk to her destination without even realizing it. Gathering all her nerve, knowing this visit wasn’t going to go nicely, and even had potential to leave her battered and bloody, she made her way down the secluded alleyway she only frequented when she was desperate. She knocked softly on the only steel door.
The door creaked open immediately, and she was met with a familiar face. A dark shadow cast over her smiling face as Leroy Borgia stepped out, forcing her to stumble back as he strong armed her out of the doorway with his large belly.
Angie almost lost her footing as she tripped back, but managed to stand tall, straightening her clothes.
“Jess says no, Angie.” Leroy’s voice boomed.
“Oh, come on, Leroy. You’re really not going to let me in?”
“Jess says no.” His left eye glared down at her. His right eye had been shot off by a 9mm during a gang shootout when he was a teenager. It sat permanently shut on his heavily cratered face. A tattoo of a single tear lived, very appropriately, under the eye that the surgeons had been forced to stitch shut. Most people found it unsightly, but Angie envied that tragic battle wound on Leroy’s face. It told people, loud and clear, exactly who they were fucking with, without a single word exchanged.
And nobody fucked with Leroy.
“Leroy, I just need to speak to her for five seconds. Come on… how long have we known each other, you and I?”
Leroy tilted his head, his eyes glazed over with a softness that only a select few people on earth knew swirled away inside of him.
“Can’t do it,” he concluded, looking away from her.
Without another moment’s hesitation, Angie produced a thick roll of hundreds tucked beneath her thumb, holding them up without a word. Leroy fingered the bills from her small hand, counted them quickly, and then stepped out of the doorway, nodding her in.
“Always a pleasure, Leroy,” Angie said, slapping a hand against his massive chest before stepping into the dark, dingy hallway. She made her way to the elevator.
As she dinged up to her desired floor, she thought back to Val’s apartment. Angie had come close to telling Zoey that Roman had just given her some information that would blow everything they thought was true about her parent’s murder to smithereens, but she hadn’t wanted to get Zoey’s hopes up for nothing. The fact that she’d had the wrong street name in the death of Zoey’s parents was big. Huge. But it still didn’t prove who killed them. It still didn’t bring Zoey any closer to a truth that would allot her the peace of mind she so deserved, but clearly still didn’t have.
No, Angie wouldn’t say a word to Zoey. Not until she really had something to say.
She was determined to get to talking.
Today.
The elevator dinged and the doors slid open, revealing a quiet room lined with about a dozen desks on either side. Each desk was adorned with an outdated computer that was long passed its prime, but somehow still looked curiously untouched. Angie stepped out of the elevator and immediately locked eyes with the only person in the room, and the very woman she was looking for.
Undercover detective Jessica Borgia looked up from her desk, locked eyes with Angie, and cringed.
“Fucking Leroy,” Jessica spat. “Before I kick you the fuck out, please remind me to murder, then fire, my utterly useless “security guard” of a brother.”
Jessica Borgia was tall and curvy, with measurements that could—and had—brought most men to their knees. Little in the middle, but thick where it counted, with a face that rivaled young Iman, Jessica was damn near captivating. Hers was the kind of beauty you only saw once in a lifetime, the kind that sent women into a green eyed frenzy, and sent men running for their lives. Thankfully, Jessica had never learned that, with a pretty face, you needed a pretty mouth to match. Her filthy mouth was the one aspect of Jessica’s pretty package that brought her right back down to earth, and it did it in an instant.
Angie gave an unsure wave, looking back at the elevator she’d just stepped out of as it dinged closed.
“Now don’t talk about Leroy like that,” Angie said, looking back to Jessica. “The man, literally, has one eyeball. He’s been through a lot. Let’s cut him some slack, shall we?”
From behind her desk, Angie heard Jessica slam her combat boots against the concrete floor. She was sure the boots were bulky and black, a perfect accent piece to Jessica’s black jeans, her black top, those black eyes, and even her jet-black, waist length hair, which she had pulled back into a low ponytail.
“This is a secure location, Colt.”
“I just need one minute,” Angie held up her pointer finger as she approached Jessica’s desk.
Jessica’s eyes travelled her body. “Are you wearing a Backstreet Boys t-shirt?”
“Let’s not worry about that right now.”
“What the fuck do you want?” Jessica demanded.
Angie went to sit in a chair across from Jessica’s desk.
“Don’t sit,” Jessica called.
Angie froze in mid-sit, feigning shock as she stood tall once more. “Now, Jess. Is that really how you’re going to greet me?”
“Yes.”
“Me? The woman who tracked down the man who was framing you all those years ago, and gave the testimony that put him behind bars?”
“Yes.”
“The woman who saved, not just your job, but your livelihood?”
“Yes.”
“Me? Your precious Angelica Colt?”
“I’m looking at you, and I�
��m saying the word yes.”
Angie went to speak, but didn’t know what to say. Jessica Borgia was never the first one to sound off the trumpets when Angie came around, but today’s reaction was easily the strongest, and most negative, that Angie had ever experienced with her.
Sensing Angie’s sudden apprehension, Jessica couldn’t fight the guilt that hit her. “Look. Colt. How many favors are you going to ask of me before you no longer consider me indebted to you?”
“Who says I'm here for a favor?”
“Who the fuck are you kidding?” Jessica finally smiled, only because she couldn’t help it.
“Why does there have to be a ceiling for indebtedness? Whatever happened to plain old loyalty?”
“My job happened.”
“You mean the job that I saved?”
“No, I mean the job that you saved, and then proceeded to put right back on the line, time and time again, by asking me for one illegal favor after the other.”
“What’s an illegal favor between old friends?”
Jessica blinked.
Angie pressed her elbows onto the desk. “Okay, yes. I need a favor, but this will be the last one, Jess. I swear.”
“How many times have I heard that?”
“There’s this case I’ve been working on for a long time. It’s the only case I haven’t solved.”
Jessica shifted. “Zoey’s folks.”
Angie nodded. “And I just found out that a piece of information I had was completely wrong. It could change everything, Jess. This is really important to me. Please.”
Jessica took a huge breath. “What do you need?” she demanded.
“I need streetlight camera footage. August 21, 2004. 15th Avenue and MLK, 10pm to midnight.”
“Can’t do it.”
“Jess, I would never ask you to do this, but…” Angie was almost embarrassed to admit it. “You know I’ve been looking for her parents’ murderer for ten years now, right? Well, as it turns out, I’ve had the wrong street name this entire time.”
Claiming Roman Page 4