by Nina Bruhns
A look of guarded optimism spread on Wendy’s face. “Are they going to keep him?”
“They can hold him for three days on suspicion. By the time that’s up, they’ll have the prints, and the DA can charge him.”
The captain motioned to Joe with his head, so he followed the man out back. They gave the dog a chance to go with them, but he chose Justin, not even tempted by the large, fenced-in yard. He had his priorities straight.
Joe closed the door behind them.
The captain cleared his throat. “I heard from Chief Gleason too. They found Lil’ Gomez’s body washed ashore outside of Philadelphia. Some jogger called it in.”
Joe filled his lungs. He’d known something like this was coming, but the confirmation hit him hard anyway. Senseless, avoidable tragedy. Lil’ Gomez was just an impressionable kid, dammit. If he’d seen better, he could have done better.
The tension in the captain’s stance said there was more, so Joe waited as a car alarm went off in the distance, then was shut off the next second.
“Wilmington PD identified the driver of the Hummer that pushed the cruiser into the river. Bridge cameras,” Bing said. “The guy behind the wheel was Marco Sousa, Racker’s right-hand man. He was likely after taking out Lil’ Gomez to hurt Ramos. And he had it in for the cops to start with. His uncle was recently killed in a shootout with two law enforcement officers.”
“Does Ramos know it was the Twentyniners?”
“Apparently. Either someone saw the incident, or Racker has been bragging. A gang war is imminent.” The captain rubbed the back of his neck. “Chief Gleason asked about you. He wants you back.”
Joe turned the chief’s request over in his head.
“For what? Ramos Gomez hates me.” Better to let the gang think he’d drowned.
Joe had wiggled his way into the group posing as a Jersey wise guy. He was supposedly hanging out in Philly to put some distance between himself and the Trenton cops. While in town, he offered money and the bale of weed in the trunk of his Camaro to Ramos’s gang to protect him, plus promised delivery of some serious weaponry.
Ramos ran a check on him through his dirty cop, but Chief Gleason had set it up so Joe’s organized-crime connections would be confirmed by the police database. The first few weeks went fine, buddy-buddy. Then, as Joe started asking questions, Ramos had become suspicious that maybe the Trenton boys wanted to take over his operation in Philly. Joe’d been working on allaying those fears, but then that unfortunate incident on the bridge happened.
Still, the op had been a success. The chief had his dirty cop.
“Last time Ramos saw me, he accused me of being a scout for a hostile takeover.”
“Water under the br—” the captain began, then winced. “Sorry.” He shook his head. “Anyway. Word is, he’s mourning you like a best friend. You went down with his little brother. Everything else is forgotten. He’s got a bigger enemy in Racker now. If you were to turn up….” The man gave a meaningful shrug.
“He’d be glad to see me, if for nothing else than for the guns I promised. He’ll need some serious weapons if he means to hit Racker’s crew. If I go back, I could probably get some intel on how and when he’s going to go after the Twentyniners.”
“And figure out where Officer Tropper is. He reported in after the bridge accident, but he’s been missing in action since.”
Rats were good at sensing danger.
“How long does Chief Gleason need me in Philly?”
“Day or two? Ramos isn’t going to wait long with the hit. You go in, figure out when and where, then pass on the intel. Then the chief will call in the SWAT team and have those guys waiting when the cars roll up.” The captain shrugged again. “Either you’ll get something out of Ramos or not. It’ll be all-out gang war if Chief Gleason can’t stop it.”
He watched Joe. “You have a choice here. I don’t want you to think you don’t. I thought of you for the undercover op because you’re an excellent officer. You’re going to make an excellent detective someday. I don’t want to lose that. I don’t want to lose you to a skirmish in Philly. You don’t have to take this. You helped Chief Gleason already. You don’t owe him anything more. It’s up to you.”
Wendy’s laughter reached them from inside. Joe looked through the sliding glass doors, at Justin trying to ride Peaches. With Keith in custody, they were safe for now.
“Okay,” he said as he turned back to the captain. “I’ll do it. I want to do it.”
The thought of a dirty cop bothered him. And so did the thought of innocent people dying. A gang war would take out anybody who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Saving someone else wasn’t going to bring Lil’ Gomez or Phil back, but he needed to try. This was why he’d become a cop in the first place.
“When do I go back in?”
“The sooner the better. Where is your undercover car?”
“Probably still parked where the cops picked me and Lil’ Gomez up.” He’d driven his reconditioned Camaro. Since most of the guys on Ramos’s crew were car fanatics, the Camaro—and a couple of midnight drag races—had given Joe some street cred with them.
The captain clapped him on the shoulder. “Why don’t you come into the station after dinner? I’ll have someone drive you in and drop you off a block or two from your car. Then you can go see Gomez.”
Joe nodded. Hopefully, Gomez wouldn’t blame his little brother’s death on him. Because if Gomez decided to hold him responsible after all, he wasn’t going to make it alive out of South Philly.
And he wanted to come back to Wendy.
* * *
Being safe, out of Keith’s reach, felt incredibly nice, even if only for a while.
Wendy glanced outside, at Joe and Bing deep in conversation on the deck, then made some raspberry fusion tea for herself and Sophie. The weather had turned a few degrees warmer finally, but the air still had enough chill in it to make a cup of hot tea pleasant.
“Now that Keith is behind bars, we can move back home,” she said as she walked the cups over to the couch, keeping an eye on Justin, who was playing hide and seek with Peaches around the furniture.
“No rush.”
“I know. You’ve been so fantastic about this. But you know how it is. Every time I reach for something, it’s at the apartment. And Justin will be more settled at home.” She sipped her tea. “How is the farm?”
A dreamy smile spread on Sophie’s face. “It’s great. The mares will be foaling soon. Maybe Justin could come out to see the foals.”
“That’d be fun.” Justin was nuts about animals. “So you like living with Bing?”
“A lot. Like pitifully a lot. I’m so much in love with him it’s embarrassing.” She covered her face with her hands for a moment and groaned. “Oh God. I turned into one of those women who can’t shut up about their men. Kill me now. Where is my pride?”
“Drowned in hot, steamy sex?” Wendy put in helpfully.
Sophie had stars in her eyes. “Yeah. Well, that part is great too. I’ve never been this happy.”
Wendy smiled and wondered what a relationship like that would feel like. It seemed so foreign, she had trouble believing something like that existed. Yet the proof was here, sitting on the couch next to her.
“I couldn’t be happier for you.” She meant it.
“Thanks. Do you need help with cleaning up your place?”
Ugh. She didn’t want to think about that mess, but she supposed she had to. “I think I’m good. It’s just carrying down the broken stuff and straightening the rest. I can do that tomorrow.”
“You should get a restraining order.” Sophie was that kind of no-nonsense girl. Little intimidated her.
Wendy gripped her cup. “I don’t want to make Keith mad.”
“I don’t think you can get away from him without making him mad.”
“I know.” She sighed. “I still keep thinking that if I’m nice to him, he’ll be nice about the custody.”
“How
has that worked out for you so far?”
Okay, so Sophie was the type to call an ace an ace. Or a jerk a jerk.
Wendy sighed. “Not too well.” She held the cup in both hands and let the warmth seep through her skin. She could see the faulty thinking. Yet to go fully against Keith and face his terrible anger scared her. Even now, with him behind bars, she couldn’t believe that she was safe. What was wrong with her? “I feel so stupid.”
Sophie tilted her head, nothing but love and support in her eyes. “You’re not stupid.”
Wendy didn’t want to be. She wanted to be smart about this. There was so much at stake. “I’ll stop by the police station to ask for a restraining order on my way home tomorrow. In case he gets out.”
“Do you want me to go with you?”
“I’ll be fine.” This was her problem. She had to be able to handle it. She would handle it.
“So I met Terry from down the street,” she said to change the subject. “If you want to rent to her, she could have the house starting the first of May. Justin and I’ll spend the night, if you don’t mind, since it’s too late to start cleaning the apartment tonight. But we can head back home in the morning, fix things and have the place back to seminormal by tomorrow night.”
“I don’t want you to feel rushed.”
“I don’t. You should have seen the desperation on Terry’s face.”
“I’ve seen it.” Sophie sipped her tea. “I’ll call her, but only if you’re one hundred percent sure.”
She nodded. She needed to go back to her normal life. “Terry needs to be saved from a nervous breakdown. And you shouldn’t lose out on rent money. The way Bing looks at you, you better start saving for a wedding.”
Sophie grinned, her entire posture relaxing, light spreading through her. “He’s amazing, isn’t he?”
Love looked good on her. Gone were the post-transplant dark circles from under her eyes, that tired look that had lingered on too long after the surgery.
Sometimes love gave you a glow, sometimes it gave you bruises. Wendy bit back a groan. She was beginning to sound like a country song.
“If he makes you this happy, I’m all for it. Even if he’s a little scary. He looks like he could seriously hurt someone if he put his mind to it.”
“He’s a big teddy bear. Joe too, by the way. He looks tough, but I’ve never seen him lose his temper.” Sophie smiled. “He’s so sexy even his scar is sexy. You two look scary good together, by the way. Did you know he used to be a wide receiver?”
Wendy rolled her eyes. “Local businesses have his picture on their wall. It’s freaky. I’m surprised they don’t have a statue of him in the Main Square.”
Sophie laughed. “Don’t give anybody ideas. People like him a lot around here. Bing says he did a lot for the town for the short time that he was in the limelight. Funneled in a ton of charity money, that kind of thing. He set up a fund that keeps the no-kill animal shelter going.”
That painted the kind of picture Wendy hadn’t considered before. She’d pictured Joe’s big-shot football-player years as partying with cheerleaders, not doing good and giving back, worrying about strays.
“He definitely has major hotness going on.” Sophie glanced toward the back door.
“I’m not going there. Wrong guy, wrong time.”
Sophie signed. “That’s what I said about Bing. Turns out I was wrong.”
“Well, I won’t tell anyone if you won’t.”
They bit back their smiles as the men came inside.
After Sophie and Bing left, Joe cooked dinner. He insisted that it was his turn and made a mean spaghetti-and-meatball dish. The aroma of tomato sauce and parmesan filled the air, along with oregano and basil. He was whistling as he stood by the stove, shirtsleeves rolled up over sculpted forearms. He picked up Justin and let him stir.
He grinned at her when he caught her staring. “You look surprised.”
“I didn’t picture you cooking.” More like watching a game on TV while the woman in his life got dinner ready.
“You take me for a total jock. I feel like I should be offended.”
“No offense.”
“None taken, then. You don’t like jocks.”
“Keith was one. Played some football in college. He likes to golf now.”
“I see.”
She had no idea what he saw, but she said nothing.
He seemed preoccupied while they ate an early dinner, but kept answering Justin’s questions about dinosaurs. He knew all the names. He was a veritable paleontologist, the both of them completely engaged.
She wasn’t a fan of existing reptiles. She cared even less for their ancestors. Maybe it was a boy thing.
Then Justin finished his food and ran off to play.
“I have to go out tonight. Police business,” Joe told her. “Are you going to be okay alone?”
“Keith is in custody. We’re going home in the morning.”
He looked like he might protest, but instead, he picked up his empty plate and walked it over to the sink.
As much as she hadn’t liked the idea of Joe moving in, now that the danger was over, she could appreciate it. It was nice of him to take time out of his schedule. And it was definitely nice of him to watch Justin while she’d worked. And she was glad that he’d been with her when she’d found the bloody wig inside that package. That had freaked her out pretty badly.
“Thanks for watching over us.”
“Not a problem.” He cleaned his plate, put it into the dishwasher, then turned to leave. “I’m not sure when I’ll be back.”
If he wasn’t back by morning, they’d be gone. She wondered when she would see him again. She’d miss him. She squashed that thought. “Stay safe.”
“You too. And lock up behind me.”
She did.
Her cell phone rang—unidentified number—as she was heading up the stairs with Justin to give him a bath.
“Hey,” a strange voice said when she picked up. “Keith used his one phone call already to call his lawyer, so he paid me to use mine to call you. He said don’t worry about anythin’. He’ll be home soon. He’ll be takin’ care of you and the kid. He says that’s a promise.”
The man on the other end put the phone down, the cold click ringing in her ear. She shoved her cell into her back pocket, picked up Justin, and held on to her baby as she carried him up the stairs.
She knew what taking care of her meant. But Justin…. Oh God, would Keith file for official shared custody to teach her a lesson? Yes, he would. He was mad at her, and he would do anything to hurt her, teach her a lesson.
Keith wouldn’t get full custody, she told herself. He wouldn’t get any kind of custody for years, hopefully. He was going to go to prison.
She was going to be free of him for a long time. And during that time, she would figure out how to be free of him forever. She would save every penny she made and hire the best lawyer. Or move far away with Justin, someplace where Keith would never find her.
She’d fought back before. It hadn’t worked, so she’d given in. She knew now that had been a mistake. Keith wasn’t going to turn reasonable. She was going to have to find new ways to fight him.
Because there was no way she’d let Keith get his hands on Justin.
Deathblow: Chapter Eight
Wendy was safe. Joe still hated to leave her, but he had a job, and he was going to do it. He strode into the station, looking for the captain, but Bing had Jack Sullivan, one of the detectives, in his office.
“That’s a new style for you,” Leila commented from behind the reception desk as she looked Joe over.
In her mid-forties, she was trim, with short dark hair, a no-nonsense style and attitude. Her only weakness was shoes. A person was well advised not to ask her how many pairs she had. Touchy subject. She wore a modest pair today, although the heels looked like they could be used as a weapon in a pinch.
She squinted as she scrutinized Joe’s best gangbanger wear: expensive s
neakers, loose pants, black shirt.
Joe shrugged. “It’s good to switch things up now and again.”
He’d gone undercover as an up-and-coming Jersey wise guy, wearing an Italian suit when he’d first approached Ramos, then he’d changed little by little to fit in. In Ramos’s neighborhood it was better not to stick out too much on the street. Especially since Joe was supposedly hiding out in Philly. Lil’ Gomez had had a lot of fun advising him on how to blend, then mocking him when he’d been slow on the uptake.
The more he looked like one of the guys, the more they treated him as such. His skills with basketball didn’t hurt either. He’d played football, but he was fast, and he had good hand-eye coordination. Give him a ball, any ball, and he’d do well with it. Ramos had a steel hoop on his garage behind the house, and his crew spent plenty of time bouncing the ball on the driveway. They were just kids, really. Ramos was the oldest at twenty-three.
Leila shook her head as her gaze settled on Joe’s footwear. “I don’t know if I can trust a man who has fancier shoes than I do.”
Joe grinned. “You’re jealous, and you know it. Working late?” Then his gaze wandered to the bulletin board behind Leila, where something sparkly hung from a long piece of red yarn and threw a rainbow over the paperwork as the sun coming through the window caught it. “What’s that?”
“A crystal,” she said in a tone that would have gone better with dog turd.
Joe raised an eyebrow.
“It’s something to do with breaking up bad energy.” She rolled her eyes. “Robin. She’s having plumbing issues. She’ll be in later.”
As Joe nodded, he noticed the lucky bamboo on the counter.
Leila followed his gaze. “Don’t ask.”
Leila was a no-nonsense woman who was likely a Marine drill sergeant in a previous life. The front desk, the break room, the files, the entire station, in fact, were organized within an inch of their lives. Which made life easier for everyone. They had more time to spend on fighting crime if they didn’t spend half their lives looking for something.