Ridiculous, but he felt . . . disloyal.
He scoffed quietly as he came up to the desk that had a half-dozen milling nurses behind it, Kirov’s voice ringing in his head. If the shoe fits, asshole, Maksim would say. Had they still interacted with each other, that is. Which they didn’t.
There had been no way things could have stayed the same after that final summer spent hanging out around their old neighborhood in Queens. That last day they’d been sitting on the front stoop of Lore’s family’s brownstone, shooting the shit, when the mailman had come by. Lore, who’d been eighteen then, same as the others, had taken the mail out of the box and flipped through it because he’d been waiting for something. He’s been unable to hide his excitement when he saw it had arrived.
What’s that? Gabriel had inquired, his big body relaxed, leg swinging over the ledge he’d been sitting on.
Lore’s excitement had dimmed in the face of the announcement he knew he had to make; he’d looked around at the faces now waiting for an answer: Gabriel, Vincente, Maksim, Alek, Jak, and Tegan—the only girl privileged enough to be allowed in their group. This had been his crew for years, and now, because of an itch he couldn’t ignore, he was about to ruin his relationship with his best friends.
It’ll be my acceptance into Nassau County Police Academy.
The disbelief on their faces had soon turned to shock, and then everything had gone still. Lore would have sworn betrayal had a scent, and in that moment his nose had been full of it. A glare or two had been settled on him as they stood. Not from Gabriel and Tegan—though in her case that had been because she’d been paying more attention to Jak than anything else, as was usual. Gabriel had come down a couple of steps to put them at eye level. Is this your choice, or your old man’s? he’d asked. Mine, Lore had told him. G had then put his hand out and waited until Lore took it before saying, Then congratulations. I hope you’re happy with it. He’d spooked the fuck out of Lore then by grabbing his nape and kissing both sides of his face. Stay safe, Lore, the underboss-in-training had murmured before walking away. Vincente and Jak had also shaken his hand and muttered their congratulations. Alek, too, though his had been gracious and had accompanied a sad smile. Tegan had descended the stairs and given him a hug and a wink. They’ll come around, Lore. Don’t worry. Good luck in training, she’d said before joining the boys a few yards up the sidewalk, where they were waiting for Maksim. The big guy had come down and stood there, towering over him, shaking his head. It sucks to feel like you have been fucked over by someone you trust, he’d drawled in his say-it-like-it-is way. His Russian accent had been thick back then. He’d leaned down and, in a tone reminiscent of the Hudson in February, had delivered a warning instead of congratulations. Do not come near my family when you get your shiny badge, Russo. Because I do not care who you are; I will do whatever is necessary to protect them.
Slamming the trapdoor on his happy memories, Lore caught the eye of one of the male nurses. “Dr. Mancuso on tonight?”
“You’ll probably find her on her way back from the cafeteria. She’ll be finishing up her four-minute break.”
“Thanks, man.” He tapped the desk and walked off, heading through chaos toward the artery that would eventually branch off and get him where he needed to be.
He took out his phone and looked down at his notes, scrolling through, and, yeah, this could get awkward. Did he have the skin to head to Club Pant if this didn’t pan out and play friend to his now enemies as he’d decided to do? It was the only real option he had if he wanted to help. As he put his phone away, the Australian owner of the club came to mind. Sydney Martin, possible partner to Maksim Kirov—brave girl—according to the Manhattan precinct. Lore doubted she was a dummy. Probably wouldn’t even see him if he didn’t casually drop the personal connection. He also doubted he’d be doing much but sitting there listening to a pretty mouth rattle off a whole lot of I-don’t-knows if he came across as just a concerned cop. Even if he did stress it was off the record, he thought as he rounded a corner.
“Well, they’re both in my ER, Jerry. You have the blood and pee, so forget about your break and get me—oomph!”
Lore shot out a hand and grabbed the bitching doctor, who was too busy looking at a chart—while she held a phone to her ear with her shoulder—to watch where she was walking. She’d just slammed into his chest, making the scent of berries surround him as her phone clacked to the floor along with the chart in her hands. He held fast to her upper arm, saving her from falling on her ass from the impact of their collision.
“I’m so sor—” Eyes as blue as the Mediterranean flashed with recognition, and the sorry that had been forming on an even prettier mouth than the Australian’s morphed into his name. “Lorenzo?”
Something in his groin perked up, looking to say hello, but he willed it away. “Tegan. You okay?”
“Yeah. Uh, no, actually I’m not. I’m dealing with a husband who just wrapped him and his wife around a telephone pole. He’s high; I know it but can’t yet prove it. And I’m this close to having to release him.” She put her finger and thumb an inch apart. Pretty hands, Lore noted for some odd reason. Her nails were short and neat, painted with a brown-and-orange pattern in honor of Thanksgiving, which was fast approaching. The nails on her ring fingers had white flecks added to make them look like turkey tails. Cute.
“Did you call the hospital’s NYPD contact so he could go through the car?”
Those blue eyes connected with his again, and one blonde brow rose with a haughtiness that had his lip quirking. “Of course,” she said as she went down. “I also remembered to make sure he was present for the urine sample.” Sarcasm.
He went down with her, picking up the chart while she gingerly turned her phone over to see a screen like a spiderweb.
“Fuck,” she whispered. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Her head whipped up, and she looked at him as if she’d already forgotten he was there. Flattering. “Sorry. I mean, your brother . . . Oh, forget it.” She held her hand out for the chart, and he passed it over, but not before he saw her blinking rapidly, as if she was trying not to cry.
Tegan Mancuso? Crying? Seriously? He didn’t believe it.
They straightened and moved to the wall as an empty gurney was pushed by. It came to a stop, and the attendant, a big guy who reminded Lore of Barry White but meaner, looked down at Tegan.
“You gonna be at the court later, T?”
Fucking guy sounded like Barry White, Lore thought, not really surprised.
“Not today, Perry,” she mumbled with a shake of her head that had her golden hair shimmering in the fluorescents.
“Chin up, baby.” A big hand came out to clip her gently under the chin, and she looked up, head tilted, and smiled at the goon. “The big man upstairs has a plan for all these souls you lose. They’re better off up there than we’ll ever be down here. Don’t forget that.”
She nodded. “Thanks for the reminder.”
As the guy left with his gurney, all four wheels of which were surprisingly steady, Tegan looked up at Lore. “Did that sound familiar to you? It should have,” she said without waiting for him to answer. “Perry and his family are in Michael’s congregation. If I’d have said you were the Father’s brother, you’d have had your ribs broken just now in a hug sent straight from heaven.”
Lore’s brother had that effect on people. “Thanks for saving me the bill.”
She smiled faintly. “No problem.” After a slight pause, she let him know where her head was at. “The wife was five months pregnant. We lost the little peanut.”
Her patients. “I’m sorry, Tegan.”
She nodded as she slipped her cracked phone into the pocket of her white lab coat and sighed long and low. Lore identified with that sound.
“I hear ya. My night was the same,” he admitted before he could catch himself.
She looked at him for a moment, her g
aze funnily enough lingering on his mouth for a second too long. “A lot of death tonight,” she said quietly, her tone far, far beyond sad. “I hate nights like these. Two heart attacks, that little guy taken before he even had a chance, a drowning victim, and a suicide I couldn’t save. Makes me wonder why I do what I do.”
Having grown up with a little sister who wore her heart on her sleeve, Lore was somewhat at ease comforting an upset female. He didn’t even think about it before reaching out and running a hand up and down Tegan’s upper arm. With Ashlyn, he’d always found that a light touch worked wonders. Most times she just wanted to talk. Get things off her chest. Staying silent and simply listening was something he’d perfected. And since he and Tegan were old pals, it felt like the right thing to do.
“I’ve been waiting for over an hour for a simple drug test that should have taken twenty minutes but didn’t because some lazy ass wanted to take his allotted break early just because he can. Why are people so selfish? And now I have to leave because my shift is over. Effing chief of staff is on my ass about too many hours.” Her eyes widened, mouth forming a little O, and the front of his jacket and his gray long-sleeved tee, as well, were grabbed in a completely unprofessional way. “You could help me. You’re still on duty, right? Go to the lab and stand over Jerry’s lazy ass and tap your watch. Wear that I’m-not-going-to-take-your-shit expression you perfected when we were fifteen, and I’ll have my screen in no time. I can’t let that asshole walk out of here, Lorenzo. He killed his child,” she finished in a hushed tone.
The sight of her upset, the sudden glimmer of tears on her lashes, had him pulling her in. Again, hugging a crying female was ingrained. “If it won’t get me kicked out of here on my ass, I’ll take a walk and see what’s taking so long.” She laid her head on his pec, face in, so that her breath warmed his throat. And, uh, this didn’t feel as it did when he offered Ashlyn comfort. Not at all. “I know this is annoying to hear—because I hate when my chief says it to me—and it’s probably going to come out sounding condescending, but I’m going to say it anyway. You’re tired, and shit’s getting to you. If you go home and rest, clear your head, it’ll all come together when you get back in. The loss will be there still, but you’ll be better able to handle it.”
She shook her head and looked torn between anger and sympathy. “It won’t come together for that woman staring up at her husband with a mix of love and accusation in her eyes. She knows, and I think she’s going to stand by him. As much as I get that, it still makes me furious.” She drew back with a pat to his ribs. Her fingers stayed to play with the zipper on his jacket pocket. “I’d like to give her a shake and tell her to open her eyes.”
Yeah. Lorenzo understood the urge.
Tegan shook her head hard, causing the scent of berries to plume again. “Know what? You’re right. I should listen to my boss and get gone.” He saw the effort she was making as she smiled up at him. And fake or not, the expression was a winner.
A chuckle escaped him. If she were vomiting on his shoes, he’d consider it a win when it came to this girl. She’d always had that effect on him. All through high school he’d been attracted to her. But then Tegan Mancuso was a funny, beautiful, cheerful girl who’d attracted everyone with no effort at all—guys and girls alike. One just wanted to be around her, soak up her positive vibe, or whatever they called the good feelings she let off. Lore was finding nothing had changed in that department. Not even fifteen years later.
“You’re heading home?”
She nodded.
“You have anyone there for you?” He seriously wasn’t digging; he was honestly concerned about her going home alone feeling as she did. One never knew when the pressure would become too much. He’d experienced overload himself a time or two and knew it wasn’t wise to be solitary when it hit. The worst thing one could do was settle into his or her own head.
She drew away from him completely, and he frowned when she fingered his badge that was clipped onto the waistband of his jeans. “I can go out to Old Westbury, but I’m not up for the drive.” Her arms fell to her sides, and she shrugged. “I’ll just use my place nearby. There’s no one there, but all I’m going to do is try to sleep anyway because I’m back on in twelve.”
Fuck. That was a sound bite from his life. And no, he didn’t get a sick feeling at the Old Westbury comment. He knew whose house she was talking about. Still didn’t know whose room she slept in, though. At the reminder, he should fuck off down that hallway and not look back. But he couldn’t. He hadn’t even picked her brain about the bombing that had taken place this morning. Also, and more importantly, he found he couldn’t walk away from her when she looked as though she was taking every death she’d seen tonight as a personal failure. Her compassion as a human being was a beautiful thing.
“Do you want me to drive you to your place?” he asked.
She shook her head again. “It’s only a few blocks. I walk.”
“Then I’ll walk with you. Go get your things, and I’ll meet you on the sidewalk outside the ER.” He turned her and gave her a nudge with his knuckles on the small of her back.
“You don’t have to do that, Lorenzo.” She turned back and tried to smile again, but it came out a distracted half attempt. “You’re probably as wiped as I am.”
“If you go grab your shit without another word, I’ll take a swing by the lab and light a fire under your buddy’s ass about that drug screen.”
She slowly straightened her spine from its exhausted curve. “Blackmail, Detective? Really? Isn’t that against the rules?”
“You’re not walking,” was all he said.
She reached out, and her fingers wrapped around his forearm. So touchy-feely. Was she like that with everyone? “I know what you’re doing,” she said softly. “And it’s really sweet of you, but I’m all right.”
“Go.”
She nodded and gave him a real smile before heading down the hallway, shrugging out of her lab coat as she went. Lore nearly groaned out loud. Those scrubs. Fuck, there was just something about those scrubs on her that was—
Yeah. And he was being an asshole. He turned away and headed for the lab to fulfill his part of the deal, embarrassed already by what he was going to have to admit to thinking about at confession next time he went.
Lore was leaning against a large tree that stood next to the emergency entrance fifteen minutes later, watching the day lighten, when Tegan came out.
“I didn’t have much to do with it, but your screen was being handed to the doc who relieved you when I walked through your department on my way out here.”
“I talked to him already, and I was right, unfortunately.” She winced as two uniformed officers passed them by. Lore nodded at them. “Thanks for your efforts, Lore.”
He shrugged her appreciation off since he hadn’t done much to earn it. “You hungry? We can go grab a bite,” he offered.
She shook her head and burrowed into her navy bomber jacket; the fur around the hood looked like a tabby was trying to strangle her with its tail. “Can’t eat after a shift. But once I wake up, watch out. I’ll take your arm off.”
He’d like to see that, he realized as they headed north on Ocean Parkway. He kept the subject on long shifts and tough days for a few, wanting her comfortable before he began excavating. He stiffened for just a second when she absently took his arm and snuggled up.
Relax, man, he told his libido when it came awake again with a jerk. She’s chilled; I am not. Get that she’s sharing in how fucking overheated I suddenly am. No big. I’m not going to be an ass by reading something into it.
Now straight on that, he concentrated on their conversation and wasn’t surprised to find he still enjoyed talking to her as they strolled through the chilly early morning.
“Your schedule sounds a lot like mine,” he admitted. “Ashlyn and Michael stopped giving me hell for canceling plans long ago. I fe
el like shit about that, but what can you do?”
“Some would say allow someone else to pick up the slack? And by someone I mean Maksim.” She laughed, dropping the intro right into his lap. “He lectures me all the time about my hours. Says they’re worse than his.”
“He still has Rapture?”
“Yup.”
“How’re the boys doing?”
She looked up at him. “They’re good. Better than the last time we saw you. I don’t know if you heard, or care, but Nika and Vincente came together.”
“Did they? Last I saw, the idiot was walking out on her.” He remembered being surprised Vincente had had it in him to leave the injured redhead after the way he’d been with her.
Tegan sighed. “Yeah. Isn’t he the sweetest thing? He was so afraid to love her. But they’re great together. She’s a doll. They both are. I mean, Nika and Gabriel’s wife. They were best friends growing up in Seattle, so now they’re like sisters-in-law or something. Cool, huh?”
“That’s Vasily Tarasov’s daughter?”
She nodded but didn’t volunteer anything more.
“That house out there is really filling up,” he said casually.
“In a good way,” she said, always seeing the positive. “Eva’s pregnant, and Gabriel’s freaking out.”
That was news. Nice news. Though how they could bring an innocent child into their world was beyond him. “That’s great. Tell him congratulations for—” He paused. “That is, if you don’t mind letting him know you were talking to me.”
She yanked him to a stop. “Lorenzo Anthony Russo. Do you know who you’re speaking to? You think I’m going to bullshit one of our friends and hide the fact that I saw you? Why? There is, and never really was, anything wrong with keeping in touch after you dropped your bomb about what you wanted to do for a living. I don’t know why you guys went as far as you did—well, okay, I do,” she admitted reluctantly. “But it still screwed up a good thing. For all of you. For all of us.”
An Obsession with Vengeance (Wanted Men Book 3) Page 22