by Kylie Brant
“T’es bien.” The bleakness of his tone reflected the gray emptiness yawning inside her. One fist rhythmically clenched and released at his side. “You can kick me out of your life, your bed. That’s your right. But I’m not leavin’ ’til this assignment is over. Nothin’ you can say will convince me to.”
She jerked her shoulder as if it didn’t matter. And in reality it didn’t. Whether he walked away now or later, the end result was the same. Whenever it happened, she’d still be left with a yawning hole in her life and absolutely no idea of how to fill it.
Chapter 13
Jacey stared sightlessly at the research she’d compiled on Amanda Garvey. Although a few of the personal details of the woman’s life left something to be desired, she’d not yet found anything that would automatically eliminate her from consideration as J. Walter’s heir. Given the condition of the rest of the man’s family, the possibility should have cheered her. But it would take far far more these days to raise her spirits.
Really, how fair was it to judge the woman by her unfortunate choice of men? Using the same yardstick, she herself would measure no better. Her last two lovers had been, by turn, a passionless cheat and a heartless liar. She was hardly a model for good judgment.
Seventy-two hours had passed since her life had been turned upside down. Watching Lucky walk out her door had been symbolic. He’d appeared without warning in her life. She had no doubt that when this was over he’d vanish just as abruptly. The agonizing pain that followed the certainty was becoming all too familiar.
She drew herself in, tried to focus. But a sound at her door distracted her again and she glanced up, only to freeze. As if he’d been transplanted from her thoughts, Lucky stood in her doorway, soberly watching her.
“Has Tomsino called again?”
She nodded and strove to match his tone for normalcy. The man had called her daily, pressuring her for copies of the reports she’d prepared for J. Walter. This morning she’d agreed to messenger a set of two DVDs to him, one an ostensibly sanitized version she had supposedly prepared for Garvey, and the other a carefully spliced original, minus the incriminating material they’d been putting together on Mark Garvey. She’d spent the better part of the last couple of days working on them. “I haven’t heard from him since I sent them over. I hope they’re enough to satisfy him for a while.”
“They should convince him you’re doing as he demanded. He’s got far more serious things to focus on right now, anyway.”
Interest stirred. “You mean your strategy is working?”
“Last night a couple of his couriers were hit for a cool quarter million. Probably drug money he was gettin’ ready for launderin’. But I imagine he’s feelin’ the heat, especially since it’s the third loss he’s taken in as many days.”
“Good.” Her satisfaction reflected that which she heard in his voice. “I hope he’s left with nothing before this is all through.”
“It means things are goin’ accordin’ to plan. But with every loss he’s goin’ to get more desperate. And a desperate man gets more dangerous. Whatever happens, I don’t want you alone with him.”
“I don’t intend to be.” That was exactly why she’d messengered the DVDs to a location he’d agreed upon, rather than meeting with him. She didn’t need to be reminded what the man was capable of.
“What have you discovered on the two women Mark Garvey’s been photographed with?”
She shook her head. “Nothing of interest has shown up.” Mark had seen two different women in four days, but the nights he’d gone to the Golden Goose and Festiva’s he’d gone alone and had left the same way, early in the morning.
“Once I made sure Tomsino was otherwise occupied, I spent the last couple of evenings at the Golden Goose, talkin’ to the help.” His tone was businesslike, with none of the teasing warmth that had once laced it. “One waitress has worked there a couple of years. She was careful, but she did mention that it was the best-paying job she’s had in a long time. She said she worked special parties after hours every couple of weeks, and makes more money that one night than she used to make in a week at her old job.”
It was difficult to focus on his words when her mind insisted on torturing her with mental flashes of just how he might have elicited that information. While she’d been spending her nights talking with the surveillance teams and manning the laptop, he’d probably been charming the woman. It was no use reminding herself that jealousy was ridiculous at this point. Emotion couldn’t be dictated by logic.
To distract herself, she changed the subject. “It’s not on the news yet, but they arrested Stephen Garvey this morning. My contact tells me they’ve charged him with twenty counts of insider trading. Something’s sure to stick.”
He gave a slow nod. “Now it’s time to get things wrapped up on Mark Garvey, as well.”
She rubbed the muscle in her shoulder that had tightened as she’d worked. “So we know the Round Table meets every other night and last night Mark had a date. Tonight could be another gambling night, but we’re not doing much more than getting pictures of him in various night spots after hours. What do we do with this?”
“Us? Nothing. Except continue to turn up the heat for Tomsino. You were askin’ earlier about callin’ in law enforcement. It’s time to bring in Vice.”
His words brought both relief and a pang of desolation. Each day her nerves grew increasingly frayed. Lack of sleep added to the stress. But the end of this assignment was another sort of end between her and Lucky, as well. One even more final.
Looking away, she swallowed hard. “Good. That’s good.” The remaining time on this case could probably be measured in hours. Hours until they put an end to Tomsino’s threats once and for all.
And hours until Lucky walked out of her life for good.
It was another two days before Lucky received word that the New Orleans Vice Squad was ready to move on the information they’d provided. On the night they decided to act, Lucky and Jacey joined one of the surveillance teams.
Jacey sat in front with Jill, the female agent, with the computer on her lap. Lucky and Bert, the other operative, were in the back with the cameras and binoculars ready.
They’d tracked Mark Garvey to Chauncey’s, an upscale strip club, at about eleven o’clock. Once they were in place, Lucky made a call to Detective Grant and they settled in to wait.
Another team was stationed in front, and they kept in constant contact via cell phones.
“I’ve got a positive ID on Garvey heading inside,” Lucky said, lowering the binoculars. “Did you see the guy with him?”
Bert patted his camera. “Got a good shot, but didn’t recognize him.”
“Let’s download it and have a look.”
Jacey took the chip they handed her and proceeded to load it on her computer. When the picture unfolded, she felt a kick of recognition, but couldn’t place the man.
“He looks familiar.” She held up the computer so Lucky could lean forward and look at the screen.
“He should. It’s Amanda Garvey’s second husband.”
“Do you think he’s the one who introduced Mark Garvey to Tomsino?”
“It could have been the other way around. Whoever was to blame, they’re both goin’ to get caught in the net tonight.”
They continued to snap pictures of the men and two women who parked in the lot behind Chauncey’s and hurried inside. But when newcomers stopped arriving, the next half hour dragged.
Jacey rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands. She didn’t know what was worse; staring at the laptop or out into the darkness where shadows melded into shadows. She glanced at the clock on the dash. Time seemed to have stopped.
Abruptly the night exploded into action. A swarm of armed officers clad in dark jackets emblazoned “Vice” burst out of the darkness to race silently to the building. The door was rammed open and the officers streamed inside.
“Do you think Tomsino is in there?” She hadn’t seen him enter
, but he could have arrived before they did.
“Hard to imagine him not bein’ there when that much money is gettin’ tossed around. He’s got to be around somewhere.”
They waited twenty minutes, and the door opened again. This time officers were leading people outside in handcuffs. “Want me to film this?” Bert asked, the camera already in his hand.
“Definitely.” Jacey put out her hand for the Steiners Lucky was using. Reluctantly he put the high-powered binoculars in her palm. She watched the surprisingly well-organized scene in silence for several minutes. Finally giving up, she gave the binoculars back to him. “I don’t see Tomsino.”
“He could be inside. We may as well go. I’ll call Grant later and find out if they picked him up yet.”
“Did you have the forensic accountant look into ownership of this property?”
“He has it in the name of a dead man.”
Jacey swiveled her head to look over the seat at him. Even Bert and Jill stopped their quiet conversation to look at him.
“The deed is in his grandfather’s name. A wonderful tribute,” he noted caustically, “except the old man was dead twelve years before Tomsino bought the place. I turned over everything our accountant uncovered about ownership of these places to Grant.”
“So they’ll be looking to bring him in for questioning soon. That’s good enough for now.” And she might have to be satisfied with that much. Life didn’t always tie up with nice neat little bows. But with the raids on his operation and the interest this sting tonight was going to generate, Tomsino had more than enough to keep his mind off Jacey’s investigation.
Tomsino’s interest in the case should be at an end, at any rate. She wasn’t sure what kind of charges Mark Garvey would face, but they’d be very public. Given his name and reputation, they’d be given a lot of media attention. There was no way J. Walter would consider him for managing the corporation even if Jacey did recommend it.
“You can stay and find out what you can about Tomsino,” she told Lucky. “I’m heading home.”
“Want us to drop you off?” Jill asked.
Jacey shook her head. “I’ll catch a ride with the team we have out front. I’ll call you tomorrow.” She shut down the computer and closed it. “With Garvey in jail for the time being, we can all get some sleep.”
She could feel Lucky’s dark gaze on her, but refused to look his way. The time when she’d never see him again was approaching at warp speed. So she should try getting used to this feeling of desolation. It was going to be with her for some time.
But the thought of home failed to beckon as it usually did. Instead of going straight there, she’d had the operatives drop her off at her office, so she could put the laptop away and burn the downloaded pictures on to a DVD. Placing both in the safe, she’d carefully relocked it and then, oddly reluctant, drove the rental car home.
She knew the cause of this aversion, of course. The sense of serenity her house had once held was gone. There were too many memories just lurking around the corner of each room, on the stairway, the hallway. She was hopelessly certain it would be a very long time before she stopped looking up unexpectedly and seeing Lucky everywhere.
Entering the house, she locked the door behind her and headed up the stairs, already considering the benefits of a long hot bath. It might relax her before settling into bed.
But on the heels of that thought came the recollection of lying with Lucky in that same tub, sharing wine and finger food by candlelight. With a mental curse, she turned toward her bedroom instead, even while recognizing it would be haunted by similar memories.
In the act of reaching for the light switch, she froze, something deep in her unconscious screaming a warning. But before she could back away, she heard the distinctive sound of a gun being cocked.
“Glad you could join me, Ms. Wheeler. I’ve been waiting for you.”
She didn’t need the light to identify the owner of the voice. Vinny Tomsino. She flipped it on anyway, saw him sitting in an easy chair next to the window. He would have been looking out of it, waiting for her arrival. And she’d walked straight into his arms.
A cold shudder snaked down her spine. The NOPD was probably combing the city for him at this very moment. No one would expect to find him here.
“What do you want?” She didn’t bother trying to make her words sound more welcoming.
“That’s a very interesting question.” He was studying her with more than a hint of malevolence in his gaze. “I thought I was quite clear about that in our conversations earlier. But I’ve been getting very little of what I want for several days now.”
How much did he know? What could she afford to tell him? The questions circled frantically in her head, but the answers eluded her. Cautiously, she said, “I don’t know what you mean. I did exactly as you requested.”
“That doesn’t do me much good now.” His face was twisted in an ugly mask. “My plans have fallen apart and I need to get out of town quickly. Since my personal finances have taken a turn for the worse, lately, I figured you’d be willing to help. I understand you can well afford it.”
“You want me to write you a check to leave town?”
“To leave the country, actually.” He undid the button on his suit coat and shifted to a more comfortable position. “Just until interest in me dies down around here. A couple of hundred thousand should do it.”
She said the first thing that came into her head. “The banks don’t open until nine tomorrow.”
“Which is one of the reasons I’m going to keep you company tonight.”
She fought the dread that threatened to bury her and honed in on his words. “One of the reasons.”
He gave her a small smile, showing uneven teeth. “We’ll wait for your lover together. He and I have some unfinished business. I’m afraid I suspect that he might have had something to do with my recent reversal of fortunes. When do you expect him?”
“I don’t,” she said bluntly, and only too honestly. “We’re no longer seeing each other.”
He gave a laugh. “Figured he wouldn’t stick around long. But you can get him here.” He gestured with the gun barrel. “Where’s your cell phone? Call him up. It’d be a shame to have this party and not invite him.”
Lucky waited for Detective Grant to finish supervising the arrests before approaching him. The man was speaking on the phone to what sounded like his superior, when he looked up and saw Lucky. He held up a hand to gesture for him to wait, then spoke for another few seconds.
Disconnecting, he nodded in Lucky’s direction. “Thanks for the tip. We picked up nearly half a million in cash inside.”
Lucky whistled. “Any sign of Tomsino?”
The man shook his head. “And no one has admitted to seeing him there this evening. But it’s only a matter of time until we pick him up. I hear he’s having all sorts of bad luck this week. Got a turf war starting up, with raids on his operations. Must be costing him a bundle.”
“Is that so?” Lucky’s voice was bland.
The detective stared hard at him. “But you wouldn’t know anything about that?”
“Can’t say that I do.” Lucky shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “What type of gamblin’ activity was he runnin’, anyway?”
Grant looked back at the building. “He had himself a real sweet deal. Collected a bunch of high rollers and gave them a place to have their games. Worked himself into becoming their bankroll when they ran out of cash. Some of those guys we took out of here are into him for some serious money.”
The man continued talking, but Lucky’s mind was elsewhere. If Tomsino was on the run from the cops, where would he go? Not to any of his homes. He wouldn’t dare. And who would he trust at a time when his businesses were being raided? He’d have to realize that the information leading to the successful attacks had come from someone in his organization. So that meant he couldn’t trust any of his colleagues. Hotels would be too risky. So where was he?
Nerves twisted through him. He’d feel better if Jacey had stayed here with him until he could see her safely home. Not that she would welcome his company, but at least his mind would be relieved…
A horrible thought struck him. He spun on his heel and sprinted away, leaving the detective in midsentence.
“Hey! Where you going?”
Tossing the words over his shoulder, he yelled, “I think I know where Tomsino might have gone.”
The light in Jacey’s bedroom was on. Was she awake then, maybe working on business? Or did she have an unwelcome guest? He let himself into the gated courtyard, and slipped behind some mimosa trees to get a better visual angle into the bedroom. The terrace doors off the bedroom were closed. Each night he’d been in bed they’d been opened. He wasn’t sure if the fact was relevant or not.
He looked up and down the street. There was little traffic at this hour. Which meant, he thought grimly, heading to the side of the home, there’d be no witnesses to his breaking and entering.
Jacey’s home featured two balconies one on top of the other. The one on the bottom floor led to the living room. Upstairs was her bedroom. He scrambled up on the lacy wrought-iron railing and balanced his weight on the balls of his feet. Tensing, he sprang upward, his arms outstretched.
Catching the lower rungs of the upstairs balcony in his hands, he laboriously pulled himself up, his upper body shuddering with the strain. In all likelihood Jacey had just been so tired she’d fallen asleep without bothering to shut the light off. As he worked a leg up to the balcony, he tried to make himself believe it. And if that was true all that would have happened was that he would have gotten a workout.