Claiming Roman

by Trevion Burns

  It was in front of Angie in an instant. This time she just stared at it.

  “What has he done that’s so terrible?” Henry asked. “He says you won’t even tell him what he’s done.”

  Angie didn’t answer, instead taking a sip of her second drink. “I have to go, Henry. I’m busy.” Angie went to stand, but stopped short when Henry took her arm.

  He waited for her to sit back down before he spoke again.

  “Just know this…” Realizing he wasn’t getting anywhere, Henry rolled his eyes. “He took me with him to Eli Bailin last week…” He raised an eyebrow. “Just in case you don’t know, Eli Bailin is--”

  “I know who Eli Bailin is.” One of the top jewelers in New York City, Eli had come to Angie on more than one occasion, usually when one of his employees mysteriously vanished, with most of his catalog under their arm. Yes, she knew Eli Bailin very well, and she knew the kind of diamonds he carried--colorful, flawless, one of a kind, and more than likely drenched in African blood.

  “Well.” Henry clicked his tongue. “Roman took me with him to Eli Bailin. Said he needed a woman’s opinion.”

  Angie pretended to be enthralled with her drink, but she’d never been listening to another person so closely in her life than she was right then.

  “He bought a ring, little lamb.”

  She suspected Henry was going to say something like that, but the words still shocked her. So much so that her eyes snapped to his.

  “He bought a ring.” Henry reiterated. “Do you hear me? Our high school fantasy just came true. That doesn’t happen—ever! The man loves you an awful lot, Hun. So whatever it is that’s got your panties in a wad, throw it away, and take the ring.”

  Angie’s eyes fluttered closed.

  “It’s not that easy,” she whispered.

  It really wasn’t.

  ***

  Angie couldn’t sleep. She kept hearing Henry’s words in her head.

  He’s a wreck.

  He bought a ring.

  He bought a ring.

  He bought a ring.

  Was she really this weak? That the mention of a ring she hadn’t even seen was keeping her awake into the dead of night, staring at her ceiling? Fighting like a soldier to keep from grabbing her bag and booking it straight to Roman’s.

  Roman.

  A man who could very easily be a ruthless killer.

  A man who could, just as easily, not be a ruthless killer.

  There it was, again, sure as day. The justifications. The rationalizations. The hope sneaking into cracks her logic should’ve had sealed.

  She knew it, but she couldn’t turn it off.

  She didn’t know if Roman did it, but she knew a Romanovsky brother had.

  A Romanovsky brother had killed Zoey’s parents, and until she found out which one, she couldn’t see Roman. She couldn’t trust herself around Roman. But Henry’s voice stayed in her head, and somehow, it got louder.

  And louder.

  He bought a ring.

  A ring.

  A RING.

  Angie flew out of bed without another thought, grabbed a few supplies from her bedside table and shoved them in her bag, before making her way out of her apartment.

  She had to find the truth.

  And she had to find it tonight.

  18

  Angie usually only made her way down the familiar alley when the sun was still out.

  At five past midnight the alley was… somewhat different.

  She hesitated at the entrance for the first time in her life, somewhat afraid of the dark expanse that met her, and how different it looked with no sunshine filtering through. A lone light sat above the only door in the alley, flickering just enough to give her a view of Leroy’s missing eye.

  She wondered how an eye that wasn’t there could still somehow be looking right at her, sending the terrified chills that were already coursing through her veins into overdrive.

  With a deep breath, she charged on, still hearing Henry’s voice as she clutched the strap of her bag closer to her shoulder.

  As she came to a stop in front of Leroy, he tilted his head back, giving her a perfect view of the deep scar that ran down his chin, and disappeared into his ratty t-shirt.

  She clenched the small piece of cloth she had hidden in a tight fist, and swallowed deeply.

  “Hey, Leroy.”

  Leroy didn’t respond.

  Angie knew better than to be here so late. Jessica wouldn’t be there at this time of night. Angie knew it, and Leroy knew she knew it.

  “Keep moving, Colt.”

  Angie pressed her lips together and simply shook her head.

  Leroy took a step toward her. “I said… keep moving.”

  “No.” Angie took several steps back, thankful when he followed her, step for step. She waited until he’d cleared the door, then she charged for it, only managing to get her hand around the handle before she felt the blinding pain of Leroy’s hand grabbing the back of her neck.

  It was the place she’d hoped he’d grab. The place Roman had told her many men would.

  Leroy’s hold was very different from Roman’s.

  Leroy grabbed to injure.

  Leroy grabbed to incapacitate.

  Sometimes, Leroy grabbed to kill.

  The pain that shot down her neck was so intense, so alarming, that Angie almost forgot everything Roman had taught her. But the moment she closed her eyes, there he was, where he always was, waiting for her in her wild mind, talking her through the madness, guiding her with his calm voice and eyes.

  It was all she needed. Eyes popping open, she raised her arm high and turned to Leroy, wrapping her raised arm around his before taking his neck in her hand.

  Leroy faltered.

  The surprise in his eyes told Angie she was doing it right, and before he could even think to retaliate, she kicked out her leg, got him behind the knees, and put him on his back with the grip she still had on his neck. She cried out as he fell, immediately pressing her knees to his chest, covering his nose and mouth with the chloroform soaked cloth she’d been clutching in her hand the entire walk there.

  Leroy was a big man, and he had a lot of fight in him. Enough fight to reach up and take both of Angie’s arms in his grasp.

  But his hold wasn’t strong.

  In seconds, he was out cold.

  “Sorry Leroy,” Angie said, checking his pulse to make sure he was fully unconscious before fingering his keys out of his pocket, and hopping to her feet.

  Within minutes she was inside, riding the elevator up to Jessica’s floor.

  The elevator dinged open, and Angie charged in, heading straight towards the desk she knew was Jessica’s, plopping down and bringing the computer to life.

  It immediately prompted her for a password. Being an outcast her freshman year of high school had forced Angie to spend a lot of time with the kids at the computer club, and she’d learned more than her fair share of tricks. Some tricks transcended time, and in seconds, she was looking at the scattered desktop of Jessica Borgia’s computer.

  Though there were several different folders and files scattered across the desktop, in no particular order, Angie’s eyes still zeroed in on the folder that read ROMANOVSKY in all caps.

  She opened the file, saved it to a disk, and only after immediately sending it to a printer did she allow herself to filter through it.

  It was nearly two hundred pages long.

  It would be impossible to read it all here.

  Thankfully, all Angie needed was right there on the first page of the document.

  Jessica had made a table with two rows and one column.

  One row said CLEARED, and the other row said SUSPECT.

  Under the suspect row, there were seven names.

  Angie read them under her breath. “Leo Romanovsky, Gary Romanovsky, Val Romanovsky, Tony Romanovsky, Bette Romanovsky, Reggie King, Knox Jefferson.” She covered her mouth with her hand as two very different truths were l
aunched at her, all at once. One was a truth she’d been hoping and praying for, another was a truth that shredded her heart, because she knew it was only a matter of time before it tore apart the life of her best friend.

  She was hardly able to see as her wet eyes moved over to the row that read CLEARED which, sadly, held one name.

  And only one name.

  Roman Romanovsky.

  The tears finally tumbled out of Angie’s eyes just as the old printer spit out the last page, and jumbled to a noisy stop.

  Angie couldn’t believe her eyes.

  Jessica had cleared Roman. Jessica, a woman whose life motto was, “guilty, until proven innocent.”

  And she’d deemed Roman innocent. It was good enough for Angie. In fact, it was as good as gold.

  She raced to the printer and snatched up all of the papers. Though she itched to know what they contained, she knew she couldn’t risk reading them there. Every second she was inside that building was a dangerous one, and she needed to get as far away as possible.

  As she passed Leroy’s unconscious body on her hurry out of the building, she gave him one more whispered apology, and a goodbye.

  There was no way Jessica Borgia would have anything to do with Angie from that day forward.

  But that didn’t matter to Angie.

  Not anymore.

  She was too busy making her way to the only thing that did.

  ***

  On the way to Roman’s apartment, Angie read through as many of the files as she could. While sitting at stoplights, waiting for slow pedestrians to cross, even purposely looking for the lines with the longest traffic jams, she did everything she could to read through what Jessica had found to clear Roman. A car honked loud and long behind her, shaking her out of the reading she was immersed in. Shooting a look to her rearview mirror, she quickly accelerated, narrowly resisting the urge to flip him off.

  It was days like this she missed the train. She’d finished many books during her years on the E line. Now, she honestly had no idea when she’d ever have time to sit down and read a book, again. As far as she was concerned, that was a fate worse than death.

  Finally making it to another stoplight, Angie went back to the information Jessica had found that cleared Roman, and only Roman, from the Black’s murder ten years ago. It was a small section filled with travel documents—passport copies, airline confirmation numbers and school signatures—that proved Roman had been on a class trip to Mexico on the night Zoey’s parents were murdered.

  Where were you on the night Zoey’s parents died? It would have been a simple question to ask him. One that would have made the last few weeks of Angie’s life worlds easier, if she’d only had the courage to ask it. She’d been too afraid of the answer, however. Too afraid to hear a truth that completely contradicted the truth she’d always known, deep down, in her heart.

  Roman was innocent.

  Angie was both enthralled, and deeply disturbed. Apart of her wanted to celebrate that the man she loved wasn’t a killer, but another part of her knew that she couldn’t.

  It was now completely confirmed that Zoey had been living among her parent’s killers for ten years. She loved them like family, and she called them family. It was all so fucked up that Angie’s sat frozen, spurred to life only by the car behind her honking angrily once more. Having become use to the sound, it didn’t even startle her, and she pressed down on the acceleration without missing a beat. As she drove, she realized she didn’t want anything to do with any of the Romanovskys for as long as she lived, but she knew that wasn’t an option.

  Not just because she was now in the uncomfortable position of being madly in love with a Romanovsky brother, but because she was also now in way too deep.

  She didn’t care what Jessica Borgia wanted. Angie was going to see this case through to the ugly, bloody end, and she would do everything in her power to make sure her newly pregnant friend came through unscathed. Zoey was in very delicate condition. Something like this could easily send her falling into mental and physical anguish, the kind of anguish that could have tragic consequences for a woman in Zoey’s state.

  Angie had to protect her. She knew she was the only one who could.

  Jessica Borgia cared only about her job. She lived and breathed crime. It had rendered the blood pumping through her veins colder than a rattlesnake. The woman had seen it all, and then some. A distraught pregnant woman having an accidental, stress-induced miscarriage would hardly leave Jessica batting so much as an eyelash.

  So Angie would be right there on her heels, making sure Zoey was none the wiser about everything that was happening. Not just until that baby was born, but until they were absolutely positive who’d done it.

  Gary, Leo or Val Romanovsky.

  Leo Romanovsky. The jokester, always finding light in even the darkest situations. If he’d been involved, the pain it would cause Zoey would surely be unbelievable.

  Gary Romanovsky. Not just Zoey’s brother, but also her best friend. Her man of honor, her partner in crime since the moment they’d met. If it was Gary, it would simply destroy her.

  Val Romanovsky. The thought sent Angie’s heart racing, and made a heavy bile rise to her throat. Could it be possible that the father of Zoey’s baby, her future fiancé, the love of her life, had murdered her parents? It simply wasn’t possible.

  Was it?

  The rattlesnake in Jessica would scream out hell yes.

  For Angie, however, it was simply too painful a possibility to entertain. At least not right then.

  So she didn’t entertain it. Not for the entire journey to Roman’s building, and all the way up to his apartment door.

  She knocked, and several moments went by with no answer. He wasn’t home.

  Even so, she refused to leave. She would wait until he came home. To preoccupy herself, she’d look through Jessica’s files, which she had barely made a dent in, more closely. It was over two hundred pages of information on the death of the Black’s, after all. Information that Angie herself had probably never seen. She was anxious to read it, but not as anxious as she was to see Roman. So she would stay, and read, until he arrived.

  She reached into her pocket for her key ring. Under nervous, tremor-filled fingers, she stumbled with the key he’d given her, hoping she was still allowed to use it.

  Just as she was getting the shaky key into the hole, the door flew open.

  She gasped, nearly jumping out of her Vans.

  The door hit the wall.

  Roman stood on the other side, a white terry cloth towel barely hanging on to the v at his strong hips. Behind him, billows of steam floated out of the guest bathroom, where a shower was running.

  He’d opened the door with irritation in his eyes, clearly having been on the verge of climbing into the shower that roared away in the distance.

  At the sight of her, the irritation vanished. His mouth dropped, and naked vulnerability like she’d never seen there before flashed across his face. Something in his eyes went hard, then soft again, as if he weren’t sure whether to steel himself for another battle wound, or profess his undying love.

  Angie had laid down her arms, and when she verbalized that, her voice shook. “I’m sorry.”

  Roman’s eyes fluttered closed, and his armor fell, too.

  Angie bit her lip as she flew through the door and wrapped her arms around his neck, embracing him with all her might as a soft cry escaped her lips. She felt his arms go around her waist as he embraced her in return, and her cries softened.

  “I’m sorry, Mama.” His voice trembled. I’m so sorry.”

  “I’m so sorry, Roman, I was wrong…”

  “I was so fucking wrong,” he countered. “I loved you from the start, I always did. I don’t know why I fought it so hard, but I don’t want anyone else but you. I don’t want anything else but you. I’ve been fucking sick without you. You’re my girl.” He tightened his hold. “Only you.”

  As he explained himself, she tightened her
hold around his neck and did the same. “I was drowning in a case that I couldn’t solve. I just went crazy. I was wrong on all of it.”

  “I don’t care,” he groaned. “I’m just happy.” His hands travelled up and down her back, breathing deeply into the crook of her neck as he suddenly tightened his arms around her waist, bringing her to her toes. Neither of them made the move to retreat, not even as several long moments rolled by. He let his eyes flutter closed, took in her smell, and pressed a kiss to the crook of her neck.

  “Thank you,” he whispered.

  She reached up and cupped his head, feeling the softness of his hair. “For what?”

  His kisses grew more intense, lapping at her neck with more need with each second. He breathed her in like air. “Thank you for coming back.”

  She curled her fingers into his hair. “I was always yours.”

  His hold tightened.

  “I was always coming back.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you so fucking much. I thought I lost you.” The kisses he pushed to her neck were now hot with intention.

  They pulled away and met eyes for a moment before their lips met. He hesitated, nearly surrendering to the parts of him that were still wounded, but the moment she parted her lips from him, the open scars seemed to close instantly, all on their own, and he was tasting her in return.

  Angie savored him, and then slowly pulled back. Unable to help it, her eyes fell from his and travelled down his hard body, lingering over every flexed muscle, all the way down to his bare feet. Her eyes started a slow climb back up to his face, but came to a stop at the towel tied loosely around his strong hips, instead. His desire pressed against the cloth, nearly breaking through the fold in the towel.

  The sight made her wet instantly, and she came to her toes and gave him her tongue, tasting his moan of approval as he offered his, too. Time became non-existent as they lost themselves in each other once more.

  He kicked the door closed, and Angie’s eyes fluttered shut as they stumbled towards the shower that he had running in the bathroom, still locked in an embrace that neither was willing to break. A new piece of her clothing left her body and hit the floor with each step they took, impressively still managing to keep some part of their hands on each other, some part of their bodies touching, even as they undressed her.