Hard to Stop

by Wendy Byrne

  So would he. He tried not to gulp and show his anxiousness. Maybe he was out of practice, since she kept a steady eye on his throat. "Why would you think that?"

  "Because I still can't make sense of the kill shot on Damon." She sucked in her lip as if she regretted the words as soon as they slipped out.

  "Did you know Damon had an altercation with someone from work just the other day?"

  "Why would I? You know I've been pulled off the case. Congratulations, you now have Dumb and Dumber—as they call them around the station—working it." She closed her eyes for a second and drew in a breath.

  "You're not going to do anything girly and faint on me, are you?"

  "Absolutely not."

  "Good to know. I'd like to flag the cops to get the paramedics to check you out, but I'm afraid if I let go of your arm, you might do a face plant."

  The discomfort of her vulnerability showed in her scowl. "You're trying to change the subject. You still haven't answered my question from the other day. How did you and your siblings get a fast ticket to immigration when you came to New York eight years ago?"

  "I still don't know why you can't let that go, especially now that you're not even working the case."

  "Maybe because your siblings do some kind of work that has yet to be defined. Maybe because rumor has it you were jumped outside your fancy digs the other night. Maybe because trouble seems to be following you, Mr. Shaw, and that's a big red flag for me. Maybe you need to be in protective custody if this is how it's going to be for you." She placed her hands on her hips. "So that begs the question, just what are you into?"

  Unease slithered down his back, but rather than give in to it, he ignored it. "Long walks in the park. Good food. A nice bottle of wine. Front-row seats to the hot new play on Broadway. Were you going to ask me out on a date, Detective? Do you want me to go on to give you some ideas?" This cat-and-mouse thing was getting tedious, but he had no intention of giving her more information that he had to. This was his issue. His problem. And the less others knew about it, the better.

  "That's not what I'm talking about and you know it. Why are you trailing my brother?"

  "I think we've already covered the subject, and frankly, it's getting a little boring."

  "How do you know who Anthony Falcone is?"

  Before he could respond, the paramedics walked over and looked at her wound.

  "You need some stitches, ma'am. We're going to need to take you to the hospital," the paramedic said.

  She sighed and pointed her thumb toward Max. "He'll bring me. I hate ambulances."

  Max chuckled while she made a face at him. "I'll take care of her."

  "I'll need you to sign some paperwork releasing us of liability."

  "No problem." She did as instructed, and the guys went back to their ambulance.

  "I believe we have to finish our discussion."

  "Which we can do on the way to the hospital." He ushered her into a cab and settled in next to her. Maybe if he gave her a little, she'd be more forthcoming. He figured it might be worth a shot. "I was in Brooklyn the other afternoon and spotted your brother going into Falcone's house. Don't know what was going on, but it involved a lot of yelling and screaming. And Mick had a bloody nose when he walked out. I take it he didn't mention that to you during your nightly dinner chats?" Playing the guilt card wasn't fair, but he'd done it anyway.

  "Just happened to be hanging around a school, huh? I think there's a word for that." She scowled.

  "Checking out private schools for a colleague of mine. He's thinking about sending his son to St. Anthony's and wanted me to scout out the kids who attended. Pure coincidence your brother attends there."

  "Well, if you show up on this street again, I'll have you arrested for loitering."

  "Which is it, Detective? Are you worried for my safety, or think I'm the bad guy in this?"

  "Haven't decided yet. But you're testing my patience, especially after I got put on leave because of you." She sucked in her lip.

  He'd learned in the little bit of time he'd known her that meant either she hadn't wanted to divulge that information or she was lying. He was betting on the latter.

  "Are you sure about that?" He gave her a tight smile. "Besides, I did what I had to do for the good of the investigation."

  "Yet you continue to interfere."

  "I prefer the term 'being accountable.'" Sticking around wouldn't give him a thing, but he figured there was no way she'd let him out of the police questions. She wanted to hear what he had to say. She was digging in her heels for now, so nothing good would come of skirting some of her questions.

  She rolled her eyes and looked at Max. "You are a boatload of trouble—you know that, Mr. Shaw?"

  "I know you'll find this hard to believe, but I have heard that before."

  * * *

  Gia was still buzzing from her encounter with Max Shaw and the ensuing five stitches. His know-it-all attitude combined with his failure to be honest with her was enough to make her crazy. She had enough to worry about, let alone think about what he might be up to.

  Even now, as she waited outside the school for Mick and glanced at her watch for the third time in less than five minutes, Max and what he was up to wasn't far from her thoughts. Still, Mick should have come out by now. Where the hell was he?

  Maybe he'd decided to try out for baseball after all. They'd discussed it a couple of weeks ago. Then again, she would have had to sign a release for him to participate. And he hadn't asked her.

  Maybe he thought she was at work and stayed after school for some strange reason. But after their scene at lunch today, he had to expect her to be waiting. So that meant he was going to wait it out and hope she'd give up and leave.

  But waiting wasn't working for her. Instead, she pounded up the steps of the school and rang the buzzer. Sister Angela answered the door with a smile.

  "Oh dear, what happened?" She pointed to the white patch on Gia's forehead.

  "Just a scratch and a couple of stitches." As much as she tried to abide by social protocol, fear for her brother overtook the last string of patience she had. "I've been waiting for Mick. Is he still around?" She gulped back the dose of nerves.

  The nun chuckled then smiled. "Mick said you'd forget about the doctor's appointment."

  "Hmm?" Something vile rose through her chest and surged into her throat.

  "The physical for baseball? He said you were picking him up him in the alley, so he needed to go out the back way."

  She tapped her head even while she resisted the urge to run back down the stairs. "That's right. I forgot all about that. He's probably wondering where I'm at."

  Her fingers were trembling so badly by the time she got to her car she had to ball them into fists. Where in the hell was her brother?

  Stopping at his usual haunts didn't yield any results. She thought about what Max had said earlier and ran up the steps to the Falcone residence and pounded on the door. Anthony answered a few moments later, a lascivious grin on his face. "What can I do for you, officer lady?"

  "It's Detective Collini. And you can tell me where my brother is?"

  "Now, why would I know anything about your brother?"

  "Because rumor has it he was by your place the other day and there was some kind of altercation."

  "Did you hear that from him? Because if you did, he's not being honest with you. Or maybe he was here because he's sweet on my daughter."

  "I doubt that. He's focused on his studies."

  He barked out a laugh. "Studies? Mick? I doubt that very much."

  She grabbed his shirt and pulled the fabric into her fist. "What do you know about my brother?"

  "A bunch of things you wouldn't be happy about." His face was red as spittle sprayed her.

  She stepped back. Giving in and asking more questions would only give him more power. He was prodding her. But she refused to take the bait. She needed to regain control of this impromptu interview. "You can do one of two things: eithe
r answer my questions or I'll bring you to the station, and we can do things there. My guess, you won't want to open that can of worms now, will you?"

  "You're faking it. You're on leave."

  She tamped down the frustration, even though she wasn't all that surprised he knew. "I still carry a badge. Word is you've got a numbers racket going on. You want me to get vice on that? You're a nobody, but who knows what skeletons they might uncover."

  "And I don't know where your punk-ass brother is. I don't have him on no speed dial or nothin'."

  "But you were at Augostino's this morning and scared him." After she confronted Mick at lunchtime, she put two and two together. It wasn't difficult. Hell, even Max Shaw knew her brother was somehow involved with Anthony.

  "I was having some fun. Your brother scares easily."

  She nodded while her BS meter shot through the roof. He was shaking down her brother, but the kid had no money. That meant he must have some kind of valuable information. "That's all that happened. No threats?"

  "I don't play that game."

  "Yeah, right."

  She wasn't going to get anything more out of him for now. Instead. she headed home and hoped her brother would be there by now. But when she got there, he wasn't. She rattled off the names of friends in her head but then changed her mind about where she should head first.

  Max Shaw.

  She wouldn't put it past him to question Mick without her presence. He'd alluded to as much when they were together earlier. She drove into Manhattan violating every traffic law on the books as she headed to his townhome on the Upper East Side. Pounding on Max's door felt good. She needed to know what he knew. And she wasn't going to leave until she found out.

  He opened the door still in his suit pants, shirt, and tie. She smelled something cooking in the kitchen, but he seemed to be alone.

  "Where is he?" She braced her hands on her hips and stared.

  "I'm sorry. Should I know who you're talking about?" He shrugged and moved toward the kitchen area. "I need to turn my lemon chicken before it burns."

  She followed at his heels, stomping behind him. "My brother. You know where he's at. You knew about Falcone. You have to know more. Tell me."

  He remained stone faced, his gaze unwavering. Either he was an Oscar-caliber actor, or he knew nothing. He shook his head as he turned off the burner and grabbed his coat. "I'll help you find him."

  "Thanks, but no thanks." She stopped him with a hand to his chest and glanced around the apartment. "I'd like to take a look around, if you don't mind."

  "Be my guest, Detective." He extended his hand in a sweeping fashion. "Main level with kitchen and family room. As you can see, I removed most of the walls, except for the bathroom and the coat closet."

  She peered inside both and found nothing but a well-appointed bathroom with a vessel sink atop an antique dresser. He had expensive taste, or his decorator did. His kitchen was top of the line, with a Sub-Zero refrigerator, Viking stove and cherry cabinets with a granite counter. French doors in the family room area opened to an amazing private courtyard. His place was probably worth close to twenty-five million. And all he had to do was gamble on the stock market.

  He led her to the second floor, where there were two bedrooms, including a massive master bedroom and a bathroom that was bigger than the first floor of her brownstone. The third floor included another bedroom and a game room with a terrace. All were so clean she could eat off the floors. More important, and more frightening, there was no sign her brother had ever been here.

  If Max had a girlfriend, she definitely didn't live here. There wasn't a sign of anything feminine on the counters or closets. Not that his personal life was any business of hers.

  "Let me come with you and help you look. Two is always better than one."

  "If I remember correctly, the last time we were together, bullets were flying." She smiled. "I think I'll take care of this myself. Besides, are you really interested in helping me find him, or do you think he's a means to an end?"

  "I think your brother stepped into something he doesn't know how to get out of. Speaking as a guy who a long time ago was his age, I can imagine he's trying to work his way out of the situation on his own. He's made some bad choices. He knows it. He knows you know it. He's trying to find the path."

  "This sounds like you no longer think he's responsible for what happened to your friend."

  "I'm not sure. But I suspect he knows who did, which is a dangerous place to be."

  "Why are you being so kind all of a sudden?" Her whole body seemed to vibrate as her pulse escalated. While the need to find her brother took over every part of her rational brain, she felt like she was doing nothing but spinning her wheels, only increasing her anxiety.

  "I want answers to questions," he said. "You want answers to questions. I think we can get a lot more accomplished if we work together rather than against each other."

  "Why should I trust you to do right? You pretty much came out and said my brother was a punk from the moment you saw him."

  He winced. "He's vulnerable and anything could happen to him. He could make a bad decision in a heartbeat and pay the price for it."

  She couldn't say for sure, but this man seemed to have some firsthand experience in that regard, if the look on his face was any indication.

  "I don't want to debate the merits of your conclusions. I need to find Mick." She headed down the stairs and toward the door, refusing to give in to the voice inside her head that whispered she should take him up on his offer. He had skills that might come in handy. And if she had to guess, they were of a different level of expertise from hers.

  "I get you don't trust me, but you need to think about this rationally. Where have you looked?"

  She moved toward the door, but he grabbed her arm. "I'm wasting time talking to you." For the first time in a very long while, she fought against tears. She needed Mick to be okay, and she had no way of guaranteeing that would happen. Feeling helpless and out of control was not a good place to be.

  "Have you checked your house? He might have hunkered down for a couple of hours, but chances are he'd head home by now. It's late, and he's probably hungry."

  "I called, but…" She looked him up and down. "I don't think you're dressed for beating the bushes with me. And I need to get going." Without another word, she rushed out the door.

  She pulled to the curb outside her home, threw the car in park, and rushed up the steps of their brownstone while her heart rate accelerated to the point where she felt lightheaded. "Mick, where are you?" She tore up the stairs to his bedroom, but found it vacant. "Crap. Crap. Crap." It was her last hope. Her only hope. The irrational part of her brain was angry at Max for putting the thought inside her head that she might find her brother here safe and sound. But she didn't.

  She eased open his closet door and noticed his large gym bag missing, along with his jeans, boots, jacket, and some socks and underwear. Her pulse spiked while her stomach did a freefall. This could not be happening. She pounded down the stairs and rushed into the kitchen.

  A note was affixed to the refrigerator. Her fingers shook as they pulled it off the clip. The same clip they'd used to send messages back and forth since he was able to stay alone after school. Tears threatened to spill, but she fought them away. Now was not the time to give in to emotion.

  I screwed up. I'm scared, but don't want you to pay the price for my mistake. I need to lay low for a while, and then I'll be back. You can't get involved in my stuff. I will only taint you as well.

  "Nooooooooo." The word wailed through her lips as she slipped to the cold tile floor. She couldn't let him shoulder this burden alone.

  But he'd done it. And there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it except work her butt off to try to find him.

  Maybe she'd have to ask Mr. Fancy Pants to help her. Because he was right. She couldn't do this alone. And she couldn't ask anyone at the department to help her out. Not only would it make Mick look guilty, it wou
ld compromise her job if they thought she had helped him disappear. And Mick's situation would get even worse if they knew one of the prime suspects had suddenly gone missing. They'd never believe she hadn't spirited her brother away to save him. And all that would make him look even guiltier than he already did.

  Most importantly, she believed Max had some lethal talents that had yet to be explored.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Max figured getting into their brownstone wouldn't be too difficult as long as Gianna wasn't around. He had no doubt he could get the kid to talk. He just had to find him before his sister did. In order to do that, he needed to get inside and search for clues.

  The kid was sixteen years old, so it would make sense that he'd stay close to home. Maybe he felt a need to protect his sister. Probably didn't have enough money to go too far away. At the same age, Max was doing a whole lot of stuff he'd rather not think about, but Mick wasn't him. He doubted he had the survival instincts to pull him through.

  By 5:00 a.m. he'd already stopped at the office, put in some buy and sell orders with Amanda, and taken a cab into Brooklyn. He spotted her car in front. The lights were on inside despite the early hour.

  Watching his back had become second nature to him before, and after the last few days, that old sensation resurfaced. Which was a good thing, because involving his siblings was still a no-go. He'd already employed that strategy a long time ago and had gotten them into a mess of trouble. He should have paid his dues to Petrovich himself and not involved Sabrina and Jake. But he couldn't change the past, only his future. It was his turn to be the victim of whatever evil hung around the periphery of the family.

  Taking a proactive approach, he kept his gun in a shoulder holster. He was a good shot. And based on the last few days, he might very well get a chance to prove his skills.

  He'd wait for her to leave, then break in. While her skills were honed through the academy and on the job, his were learned through nearly getting himself and his siblings killed a couple of times. Trial by fire had kept him on his toes, and a part of him missed the old life. Not working for Petrovich necessarily, but the puzzle to find the truth.