Long Shot: A Brewed Moon Novella

by J. Margot Critch

  The sidelong glance that Declan shot Juliana rubbed Mitch the wrong way. And Juliana looked between the two men. “What’s going on?” Mitch knew that she could sense the tension between the two men.

  “Oh, nothing love,” Declan answered first. Mitch wanted to deck the guy. Juliana was not his love. “Mitch and I have done a little business in the past.”

  That made Juliana pause for a moment. “What kind of business?” It was a good question, and Mitch understood her confusion. What kind of business would he have had with the Irishman?

  Mitch stayed silent. What could he tell her? That he’d gone outside the law and made a deal with the Irish mafia leader to support him against their Russian competitor for control of the city. He turned to her. “It’s nothing you need to concern yourself with.”

  She watched him strangely, her eyes narrowing, her gaze flicking quickly to Declan.

  “Let’s step outside and catch up,” Mitch told him, ignoring the questions in Juliana’s eyes.

  Declan looked bewildered by this request, but he wasn’t fooling Mitch. He knew that the Irishman was toying with him when he smiled easily. “Sure thing, detective. Lead the way.”

  Mitch stalked to the front door with Declan behind him, followed by his teammates, leading the men outside and around the corner of the building to the alleyway. When they were alone, Mitch and his team surrounded Declan.

  “So, Juliana is your woman?” Declan said, the cocky smile still playing on his lips. Mitch wanted nothing more than to smack it from his face.

  “You know exactly who she is. What the fuck do you think you’re doing with her?” Mitch snarled, pushing Declan against the brick wall of the café.

  Declan chuckled. “I’m not doing anything. I’m just taking a shot and delving into legitimate business. That’s what you want me to do, isn’t it?”

  “You keep your dirty money away from Juliana and her business.”

  “The dirty money that helped her rebuild and reopen her business? The infusion of cash that gave her hope again?” Mitch released his hold on the man, and Declan stood, and straightened his shirt. “Listen, you don’t have anything to worry about with me here. But if you don’t mind, I’ll be heading inside. I’ve got a party to host.”

  “I can’t believe you,” Juliana said over her shoulder several hours later as she stormed into her apartment. “What was all that macho bullshit about with Declan? You might as well have just peed all over the café to mark your territory.”

  Mitch glared at her. “Jules, come on-”

  “No,” she stopped him. “I’m serious. What? Do you think I’m having an affair with Declan, or something?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Do you think he wants to get into my pants?”

  “Probably,” he responded. “I would question any man who didn’t want to. But that isn’t it.”

  “So, if you aren’t jealous, what’s your problem with Declan? He said that you were friends.”

  “He isn’t my friend,” Mitch insisted.

  “Then what’s the problem?”

  “He’s a criminal. He’s a mob boss.”

  “Oh really?” she said, skeptical. “Come on. I get it, every mob boss in the city – how many are there again? – wants a part of me. What’s Declan’s big plan here? Is it that he’ll give me a huge chunk of money, then maybe he’ll blow up my café and kidnap me? No wait, that was the last time.”

  “Jules,” he scolded her. But he looked weary as he rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. She knew that she shouldn’t have bought up the time they’d been kidnapped and held at gunpoint. She knew that Mitch still carried a lot of guilt about not being able to stop it.

  Juliana softened. “Mitch, don’t you trust me to do what’s right for me? For my business?

  “Of course, I do. But you don’t have all the information. Declan’s just helping you to mess with me.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” she told him, exhausted and annoyed that he wouldn’t drop it. “People don’t just throw money into a business to spite the boyfriend of the owner.” She paused. “Is there something I need to know about Declan? Is he actually in the mob?”

  “He is. I’m being completely honest with you about that.”

  Juliana watched Mitch. She knew that here was something he was hiding from her. Something else about his relationship with Declan. But if he wasn’t going to tell, then the conversation was over. She took a step toward him, reached out and touched his chest. “Can we just go to bed?”

  He nodded. “Yeah. We’ll finish this in the morning.”

  She stepped back and scowled. “No,” she said. “We won’t. This is finished now. The café and who I work with is my business. I’ll talk to Declan. But there’s nothing else for us to discuss.” She walked to the bedroom, and even though she was mad she was relieved when he followed her. She stopped at the foot of her bed, when he came up behind her and grasped her hips in his large hands.

  He pulled her to him so she could feel his rigid length against her back. He brought his lips to her ear, and his teeth scraped the lobe. “It seems another matter has come up.” His whisper was husky. “Let’s discuss that.”

  Juliana sighed, and melted into him. He was a master of diversion and she wanted him immediately. She turned to face him and wrapped her arms around his neck to pull him close. Their argument forgotten, she kissed him. It would come up again, of course. But it could wait.

  Chapter 3

  Juliana pulled her face from the toilet bowl and sat back. She caught her breath, stood on shaky legs, and flushed the toilet. She’d been feeling off the past couple of days, since the re-opening. Run-down. She wasn’t sure if it was the stress and long hours of the re-opening or the tension with Mitch. She’d told him that she wouldn’t buckle, she trusted Declan, and that her café was none of Mitch’s business. All true and she was prepared to defend it. He’d backed off, but she knew that the issue still hung heavy between them.

  She washed her face and brushed her teeth, and slowly made her way to her kitchen, her palm resting flat on her still-queasy stomach. Mitch stood at the kitchen counter wearing only a pair of black boxer briefs, mug of coffee in one hand and intently reading his phone in the other. Even though she was still mad at him for poking into her business, she couldn’t deny that the man was a physiological marvel.

  He looked up at her, concern stitching his eyebrows together. “You okay?” He poured a mug of coffee and handed it to her.

  She looked at the mug and shook her head, not accepting it. Just the smell of the coffee caused a fresh wave of nausea to sweep over her. She braced her palms on the counter. “I’ll be fine. I guess I’m just not feeling very well.”

  He frowned, concerned. “Anything I can do?”

  “No,” she assured him. “I must have eaten something that disagreed with me, or you know all of the stress of the opening. I’ll be fine.” Juliana poured a glass of water and sipped it with care.

  “You’re pale as a sheet; why don’t you call in sick? Go back to bed,” he said, placing the back of his hand against her forehead to test her temperature.

  She shook her head. “That isn’t necessary. I’ve just been a little off lately. I’ll feel better when I get moving.”

  He looked unconvinced. “If you say so. You’ve been overworking yourself since you re-opened. Don’t push yourself too hard. You have employees to pick up the slack.”

  Juliana had no intention of taking it easy. She pulled her weight like the rest of her employees. “Sure,” she said, placating him, no intention of slacking. “I’ll take it easy.”

  From behind the counter of Brewed Moon, Juliana looked around the café. The repairs and enhancements that she and Declan had agreed on were stunning, the furniture was comfortable yet sleek, and the equipment was high-end and working perfectly. She straightened up the line of greeting cards that loyal customers had brought to welcome her back. The few days since the reopening had s
urpassed her expectations and the café was bustling with steady traffic. Brewed Moon had been missed in the neighbourhood, and Juliana was proud to be a member of such a supportive community.

  The bell above the door rang, drawing Juliana’s attention to another group of customers walking in with Declan following close behind bearing a vase of beautiful orchids. He’d been out of town for the past few days, and she hadn’t seen him since the party, where he’d charmed her guests with jokes and funny anecdotes. She sipped her peppermint tea and smiled at him, trying to push down the small hollow of doubt that had formed in her chest. She needed to talk to him. He might be a criminal but, despite Mitch’s strong accusations, Declan was undeniably a helpful business partner. And the contract they’d signed would be difficult to get out of. Not that she wanted to. Juliana shuddered at the thought of where she’d be in life if the windfall of Declan’s investment hadn’t arrived when it did.

  However, armed with new information about his background, she could see that there was something unusual about him. He held mischief in his blue eyes and danger in his smile. She trusted Mitch, and as much as he was a control freak he wouldn’t have had such a strong reaction to Declan without good reason.

  “Good morning, ladies,” Declan called to her and Azura. “How are you all this morning?”

  Juliana’s sick stomach had quieted, even though the slight vertigo had remained. “Fine. We’re busy, so it’s a good day.” She put down her mug. “Listen, can we talk in my office?”

  “Yeah, sure love,” his accent a pleasant brogue as he placed the orchids on the front window sill to bask in the warmth of sun rays reflecting off the harbour.

  Juliana made sure that Azura could handle the counter on her own, and then led him back to her office. She took her seat behind the desk, and he sat in the one in front. Her office was small and it was the only way to fit two chairs, so it would have to do. Still, she hated the formality of it all.

  Declan watched her from his chair, smiling, his eyebrows raised expectantly. “So, what’s up?

  Juliana took a deep breath. She put two elbows on the desk and clasped her hands together, leaning in a little. “Who are you?”

  His smile faded. “What do you mean?”

  “I know your name is Declan O’Connell, but why am I hearing you are a criminal?”

  He chuckled and ran a hand through his thick, black hair. “Ah, Mitch, of course. I figured he’d tell you. Well, that’s probably because my family has been known to have ties to organized crime.”

  “That’s a vague answer.”

  “You asked a vague question.”

  She leaned in further, and lowered her voice. “Are you a mob boss?”

  He shrugged indifferently. “Juliana, my relatives were the head of the family here in St. John’s, but no longer. It cost my father his life and my uncle his freedom. I only came to St. John’s recently at my Uncle Colin’s request.”

  “To do what?”

  “You’d have to ask him that. I knew that once I was here it would be a good opportunity to branch out into legitimate business.”

  She knew that there was more to the situation, just like when she’d asked Mitch about it. There was something she wasn’t being told and she was irritated that no one would give her a straight answer. Still, she had to focus on what was important to her - Brewed Moon. “So, the money you invested to rebuild the café…?”

  “Not from organized crime,” he told her. “I’m being truthful, Juliana. There’s nothing nefarious going on here. When I came to St. John’s, it was to take over the family business, but with everything that’s happened in the last few months, I want to get away from that life.” He sat back casually. “Although now that you mention it,” he pondered, taking in the room, “I could probably set up a still in here and put a speakeasy in your stock room,” he cast a sidelong glance at her, laughing heartily at her sudden reaction before she smiled, realizing he was simply trying to get a rise out of her.

  He leaned back once more, as the levity of his joke deflated some of the tension in the room. “So,” his tone growing serious once more, “Mitch has been talking about me, huh?”

  “He’s expressed some concerns.”

  “I’m sure he did.”

  “He’s worried, and frankly, so am I. I’ve had enough of run-ins with the mob and all of that. I don’t want any part of that world touching my life or my business again.”

  “And it won’t,” Declan said simply. “But if we’re laying cards on the table you should peek at your dear boyfriend’s hand. He holds his cards close to his chest, but he knows why I came to St. John’s all the same.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Declan stood, obviously done with the conversation. “Ask him,” he instructed her.

  Chapter 4

  Mitch and his team sat in Captain Lewis’s office, quietly waiting for their boss to finish a phone call and give them his attention. Mitch impatiently drummed his fingers on his thigh. He wasn’t positive why they were summoned to their boss’s office, but he had a pretty good idea, and he was mentally preparing his rebuttal.

  Captain Lewis finally hung up the phone and turned his attention to them. “Thanks for meeting me, gentlemen.”

  “I didn’t think we had much of a choice,” Mitch commented.

  Their captain didn’t respond, but studied each man in turn. “I called you here because I’ve noticed you all putting in long hours and racking up overtime. I’ve also reviewed the lack of progress you’ve made on some of these gang crimes.”

  “The only lack of progress is a direct result of the stone-walling we’re facing from our superiors,” Mitch ground out at the captain.

  If Lewis heard him, he ignored it, and carried on. “Now I’m sure that Mitch already informed you guys that I’m adding another member to your team.” Mitch was about to voice his disagreement when the Captain raised a hand to cut him off. “Not only is this team’s overtime stretching our operational budget, but I don’t want you to burn out either. So, allow me to introduce your newest team member.”

  Mitch could only sit in stunned silence, watching the captain stand and open his office door to beckon someone inside. Mitch had come into this meeting thinking it would be his last chance to persuade the captain that a new member would be a redundant addition to the already well-balanced team.

  His superior’s voice broke Mitch’s train of though. “Gentlemen, meet Detective Elle Thorne,” Captain Lewis clearly relished Mitch’s reaction at being caught off guard. The men stood as they were joined by a petite woman, whose stature may have been short, but her gait showed confidence. “She’ll be the fifth member of your team.”

  Mitch’s eyes travelled between the woman and his boss. “Sir, with all due respect, I thought we would have time to discuss this, vet applicants together. Let us prove that we don’t need another team member.”

  “Well, that’s not up for discussion, Swanson. The decision’s been made.”

  Elle stood straight, walking up to Mitch. The top of her head only came to his shoulder, but she still looked him in the eye, unintimidated by him or the intentionally awkward conversation. “Gentlemen, if you think I’m not up to the task because I’m a woman, I can assure you that I can do the job of any man.”

  “I’m not at all bothered by the fact that you’re a woman,” he told her. “It’s your credentials that concern me. I don’t even know who you are, or what benefit you’ll bring to my team.”

  Elle smiled. “Well, if you need my life story, detective, I was born in Vancouver, joined the police force out of university, went on from there to work for national intelligence, and I’ve trained with special teams across the country. Still worried about my credentials?”

  Mitch nodded, suitably impressed by her history. He knew that there was no getting away from the captain’s decision, or his new partner. “No, I think we’re good.” He took a look at her clothing, the tailored pant suit that she’d paired with a pearl necklace a
nd matching earrings. “You might want to change out of the suit though. We keep a low profile and it’s hard to fit in on the street when you’re dressed like a politician.”

  Elle cast an appraising gaze over Mitch and his men. “Don’t worry. Believe it or not, I own jeans.”

  Mitch took a deep breath. “Alright then,” he said. “Let’s show you around.”

  An hour later, Mitch had finished her tour of the station, introducing Elle to his colleagues before she excused herself to go home to change.

  Mitch looked around to confirm they were alone, huddled in a tight circle with his team outside of the war room. They walked inside and closed the door. “Elle Carter is definitely a straight edge. She’s smart, and she won’t miss much. We can still be us, do business the way we do it, but we have to be careful.”

  “Especially since we know that she was brought in by Lewis to keep an eye on us,” Steve supplied.

  Mitch reached into the mini fridge and withdrew a bottle of water. He stood and looked at the painting that was hung above the appliance. Erica had given it to them, “something to brighten up their brown, messy work-hole,” she’d said. It was a painting by a local artist that she’d picked up at a craft market, and depicted Jellybean Row, the brightly-coloured row houses for which St. John’s was famous. Primary colours layered on a canvass that was stretched over a wooden frame. He’d rolled his eyes at her at the time, but he liked the painting well enough.

  It was hanging crookedly and he reached out to straighten it. When it shifted, the frame scratched against the painted wall. Mitch cocked his head at the unusual sound. He shifted the painting again, the same scritching sound, as it scratched the wall again. Carefully, Mitch lifted the painting from the wall. He was taken aback when he saw the small electronic device affixed to the lower left corner.