Touching her cheek, he asked firmly, “Do you trust me?”
“More than anyone but–”
“Then, listen. I know you think you’ve developed a connection with Abigail’s grandson. But he’s going to break your heart.” His voice held authority and quiet urgency.
“He won’t,” Shelley protested weakly, teary eyes begging her father to understand.
“He will, sweetheart.” He framed her face. “He’ll make you to bear his crosses, and you will forever regret.”
Desperation drowned her. A tear rolled down her cheek as the weight of her father’s words pressed upon her soul. She searched his eyes, her own round and disbelieving that he would deprive her of her heart’s desires. But with a sob, she went into his embrace. “What do you want me to do, Daddy?”
If there was anything to despise about his job, Carter didn’t have a clue what it might be. But he knew Shelley hated the fact that things always cropped up when she needed him. So he had gone to great lengths to thread the needle through the eye of the camel – or whatever the hell the saying was – and get the court date pushed back so his day would be clear. After all, it was Jared’s wedding. Second, in fact. Not that he’d actually sealed the deal the first time.
He would be lying if he said being the son-in-law of one of the most-touted trial lawyers in Manhattan hadn’t appealed to him before even Shelley had. But she was sexy, sweeter-than-honey, well-bred, and the sister of good friends. It wasn’t much of a sacrifice.
But somehow she had become a background project, and his career took precedence. That was, in part, why he hadn’t been too terribly upset when she told him she needed space ten months ago. Any other man might have been worried about her getting snatched up. But her father was all for the match, and she was nothing if not a devout daughter.
That’s why he’d come. To seal his investment. Zach had nothing to do with it.
Finally, the French doors opened. He removed his hand from his pocket and looked around. It was Shelley. But she didn’t seem happy. “Hey, there she is,” he said anyway with a smile.
“Hi, Carter.”
He appraised her tempting attire and half-frowned. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to outdo Carrie?”
She glared at him. “Seriously?” Angry, she turned away, but he lunged to catch her.
“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. That was stupid.”
Reluctantly, she faced him again, this time with arms crossed.
He beamed her with his infectious, disarming smile and gripped her slender shoulders. “So listen, I’ve got good news and more good news. Which do you want first?”
Clasping her hands together, she shrugged and said, “Whichever.”
“I know how much you didn’t want to go to the wedding alone so I greased a few palms and voila!” He grinned, pulling her closer. His voice warmed. “What time do you want me to pick you up?”
She forced a smile. “Whenever you want,” she said, injecting some false joy into her words. Carter hugged her, and she wrestled with her thoughts while hiding her face. What had she done?
James, Erik, Ben, and Clint Mitchel trooped into the kitchen single-file with Jared in the lead, each laden down with dirty plates and utensils, talking and grumbling in jest about being subject to such unreasonable treatment.
But when Jared saw Zach at the kitchen table finishing off another slice of pie, he stopped short. “What the hell?” he exclaimed. “You get special treatment?”
“We have to deal with family togetherness,” James rejoined, “while you get off scot-free. Where’s the justice?”
“No justice for the oppressed!” Erik dramatized.
In a good frame of mind, Zach grinned. “Hey. Guys. You think I want to be by myself? All alone?”
“YES!” the men said in magnanimous chorus.
“Okay, well I just did what I was told,” Zach replied, leaning back in his chair and putting his hands out. “Your sister practically forced me to sit down and wait for her.”
At the mention of Shelley, the Mitchel men regarded Zach shrewdly.
James kept quiet, but Erik spoke up. “Well, you might be waiting a long time.”
“Our Dad sent her off,” Ben chimed.
“She’s with Carter now,” Clint added with clear insinuation.
At this, Zach’s fledgling joy disappeared into a dark tunnel.
Jared sensed it. “Don’t listen to these Law and Order idiots. There’s nothing there, I’m telling you.”
Immediately, Erik turned red and shot Jared a peevish look. “What do you mean nothing?! She’s been with him ever since you screwed her up.”
Jared bristled and stabbed a finger back at Erik. “Hey! She’s the one who broke it off two days before the wedding!”
“What?!” Zach exploded as he slammed his fist into the table. Scowling fiercely, he glared at the men, who now were tongue-tied and staring back at him with anxious looks. Especially Jared.
James started towards Zach. “Woah. Come on, man. Take it easy.”
But Zach scraped his chair back and stormed out before he did anything he would regret.
However, just past the kitchen, his step hiccupped –
“Going somewhere, detective?”
Zach found Henri Mitchel staring at him with a dark look. He was like a hydrothermal vent along the ocean floor – issuing black funnels.
With two fingers, the venerated attorney motioned to him. “Come with me.”
33
“I’m going to be perfectly honest with you,” Henri began as soon as he closed the double doors of his home office, “you’re not the kind of man I approve my daughter being with.”
Zach stood uncomfortably in the lawyer’s Pernod-spiced lair. “In your shoes, I don’t think I would either.”
Henri allowed a small, tight smile. “Well, I’m glad we can agree on that.” He walked silent as death towards the generous cherry oak desk and lowered himself into his executive chair, gesturing for Zach to take the seat opposite.
Warily, Zach sank into cool, padded leather and scanned the high-brow, erudite surrounds.
Henri leaned back, elbows on the arms of the chair. He pressed his fingertips together and watched the detective coldly. The air was so quiet, they could hear the time piece on the wall ticking.
Apprehension stole over Zach.
Finally, Henri picked up a pen from his brush-nickel utensil holder. He held it by the ends and rolled it like a cigar. “I overheard your…conversation downstairs. Ordinarily, I’d say it’s your business. But this is my girl we’re talking about.”
“Did you have this talk with Carter, too?” Zach replied, managing to maintain his swagger.
Narrowing his eyes, Henri increased pressure on the writing instrument. Abruptly, he dropped it back into the holder, opened a drawer, and pulled out a thick manila file. He landed it right in front of Zach with a thud.
Frowning, Zach lifted the cover. He saw the first page – his NCAA picture and football stats – and his boat of confidence sprang a leak.
“Relax,” Henri commanded, tone forbidding.
Zach tensed further.
“I know all about you. Your track record for catching the basest offenders, your high marks on service exams, your physical prowess and marksmanship. All very commendable. However, I’m also familiar with your anger issues, your proclivity towards abusive conduct. Self-sabotage.”
Zach scowled. “Do you have a point?”
“If you want to avoid the sharks, don’t jump in the water.” Henri waited for a response but received none so he proceeded. “When your sister died, you fell headlong into a mirror. A supposed accident which landed you in the hospital. When your parents divorced, you were surprisingly calm until you ended up in a nearly fatal car crash. In college, after your grandfather was diagnosed with brain tumors, you began misusing several illegal substances.” Henri stared shrewdly. “A simple ACL injury during the NCAA championship game is one from which you never recove
red. It eliminated you from the draft after you’d already signed a $10,000,000 contract with the Steelers. Your girlfriend left you and then died in a DWI wreck. Tried to kill yourself afterwards.”
Surprise ricocheted through Zach’s temples, causing a vein to throb. “Stop it!”
Unruffled, Henri gestured to the folder. “It’s all there… with your university medical records.” He smiled flatly. “You were such a” – he looked up at the ceiling, stroking his powerful chin – “celebrity, and so the school psychologists swept everything under the rug, chalking it up to emotional duress. After all, a Heisman recipient attempting suicide? Imagine the embarrassment. I’m sure Abigail doesn’t even know.”
The muscles in Zach’s cheek and jaw worked as he fought the rising anxiety.
“You’re damaged.” Henri paused to watch Zach, practically seeing the memories play across his features. “People tend to excuse your visceral issues, thinking that all you need is a chance.” He leaned back in his chair, crossing one ankle over his knee, running a finger along the gleaming, beveled edge of the dust-free cherry top. “But from one predator to another, you’re not fooling me.”
Henri pushed himself to standing and started a slow turn around his office. “I’m not blind. I know what’s been going on. And if you don’t tell me everything, I will make sure you lose more than your badge.”
Scalded, Zach sat stunned. Knowing he didn’t stand a chance, he spilled everything in detail…
When he concluded the retelling, Zach exhaled, feeling the acute stab of guilt as he awaited judgment.
Henri came to stand by his chair, studying Zach with shrewd, cold eyes. “You killed them to save her,” he verified with some disbelief.
“I did.”
Henri let silence reign for a few beats. “If anything happens to her, I guarantee that if you take my client to court, it will end badly for you. Judge Blankenship owes me several favors. And right now, she doesn’t have all the evidence.” Henri withdrew a memory card, the same kind that Cervenka had given Zach. “I don’t think I have to tell you what intentional manslaughter will get you.”
Not the type to be cowed by threats, Zach nevertheless ducked his head. “It wasn’t premeditated.”
“Then where’d you get the steak knife?” Henri countered, knowingly.
Suddenly, a light knock sounded at the heavy, dark-stained wooden portal.
“Come in,” Henri called, flipping his demeanor’s switch.
The door opened, and Carol brought her refinement and youthful beauty into her husband’s domain. “Here you are,” she exclaimed, acting mildly put-out. She sailed towards him on a fragrant current of jasmine and red rosé. Zach thought at once that Shelley looked quite a bit like her. The same Ipanema tan, the same chocolate hair, the same mouth. Only her eyes came from Henri. He seemed to recall attending a New York Philharmonic concert with his grandparents where she was the featured artist. And there was an even fainter memory in the back of his mind: something about a broken violin. And an accident.
“I’m sorry, dear,” Henri apologized, tone benevolent and sensual now. “I was just having a pleasant chat with Abigail’s prodigal grandson.”
She gave him a look that said she didn’t believe a word. “Of course you were, mi amor,” she crooned.
Henri extended an arm to her once she neared, which she was quick to fill. He drew her close, and she perched on the arm of his chair with the uncanny grace of an airline stewardess.
Zach welcomed the distraction and watched the interaction between the obviously still-in-love couple. Henri took one of her hands and massaged her palm, murmuring something in French. She clenched, however, like his ministrations hurt, and he stopped right away.
“I came because Jared and Carrie are waiting for you before we do toasts.”
He stood up to walk her to the door. “Very well. I’ll just be a minute.”
She smiled. “Alright. But after this, you’re all mine. No more business tonight. Comprendes?” They shared a sensuous, lover’s kiss, and he sent her off with a pat to her backside, for which she threw him a fleeting glance of amused displeasure.
Upon closing the heavy door, Henri turned around, face instantly masked by darkness again. Wordlessly, he went around his desk and opened the top drawer. He pulled out another file about twice as thick as the one on Zach and stacked it atop the other. “Ivan Kazanov. He’s your real problem. Not Cervenka.”
Completely confused, Zach started to open the file, but Henri slapped his hand down on top.
“I have a few terms you’ll have to agree to first.” Henri speared Zach with a cold gaze. “That club? Stays open. You find a way to bring Kazanov and his associates down without infringing upon The Purple Gazelle’s daily operation, or I will make sure he knows what you’re up to.”
Zach scowled. “That place is infested.”
Henri’s face didn’t lose its steel plating. “Which brings me to my second requirement. I expect you to protect Shelley at all cost,” he stated, leveling a cold gaze at Zach as he slowly circled the desk. “I don’t care if the FBI asserts themselves, if Judge Blankenship’s favor runs out, or if you get arrested. Her safety is your top priority.” He stopped and loomed over Zach like a bloodthirsty shark. “I don’t think you can afford the alternative. Do we have a deal?”
Henri extended his left hand. Zach peered into the man’s dark eyes and reluctantly sealed the agreement, certain he was signing away his soul.
Part IV
Money Jungle
34
By the stretch of floor-to-ceiling windows in apartment 2C, Carter stood at a pub-height, two-seater in the back corner of the living room, comparing notes with Zach. The place was quiet with only Upper West Side traffic painting the backdrop. Ashleigh was at St. Patrick’s Cathedral already with her soon-to-be sister-in-law as one of the bridesmaids. But Shelley was here in her bedroom getting ready behind closed doors.
Afternoon sun streamed upon both men who were already dressed for the occasion: Carter in Calvin Klein with a powerful striped tie and Zach in perfectly-cut Armani, white shirt, and ice blue solid tie – the official color of today’s wedding. A centerpiece bowl of rose petals in jasmine-scented water vibrated as Carter pushed it aside to make room for their spread of documents and Zach’s overstuffed file.
“Can’t believe you actually did your homework,” Carter said aloud.
Zach had neglected to mention the source of this wealth of material. But he hadn’t stayed at NYPD headquarters all night for nothing – ever since leaving the Mitchel’s estate, in fact. Strangely enough, he displayed no signs of sleep-deprivation, and his hard countenance was instead lit by fire.
Carter turned to a full-page color photo of Kazanov, fuzzy but clear enough. He was looking over his shoulder in a crowd in Rockefeller Center, cell to his ear. “You recognize this guy?”
Zach’s jaw shifted. “He’s the one who threw me in the river.”
Carter appraised him sharply. “Seriously?”
“I know the face.” The palpable horror of waking up beneath that oppressive bed came back to him. The darkness. The pain. The hopeless struggle. All-consuming anger began to roil, filling his veins and swelling the blackness in him. Blinded for the moment by uncontrollable fury, Zach clenched his fist and looked away.
“Ivan Kazanov is in the Brother’s Circle, the Russian syndicate. They’ve taken an interest in the Red Fisher’s business, cooperating with his crime ring,” Zach said, pointing out a series of roundabout ACH transfers in excess of 12.5 million dollars. “All laundered funds go straight to The Purple Gazelle. They’re using the club to legitimize the cash made on black market weapons.”
Carter scrutinized the bank transfers, pressing his palms into the “So how does he get the money back?”
“Narcotics. Cervenka’s got the drug connections,” Zach answered, sliding his hands into his slacks pockets. He strolled to one of the windows and looked out into the cloudy afternoon. “He needed
cash. The local chapter of the Brother’s Circle wants drugs.”
“So then why isn’t it working out between their syndicates?”
Zach’s gaze sharpened. “Maybe it was just a one-time thing.”
“He wanted you to take out two men who are associates of Kazanov.” Carter held up the list Zach had marked up thoroughly with red ink. “Clearly, something’s going on.” When Zach said nothing, Carter grew suspicious. “You know… you never did say how it was you came to be at the shipyard that night.”
Zach didn’t look around.
“Did Cervenka give you a tip?”
Chest tightening, Zach wouldn’t speak.
“Did it ever occur to you that he may have led you out there to be slaughtered? Potentially twice?” When Zach didn’t answer, same as ever, Carter stormed over and grabbed the man’s arm, forcing him around. “Look. I don’t know what he’s saying, but you can’t let him get to you.”
“He knows where Kazanov is. He’ll tell me if I ask.”
The deep-throated rumble and the look on his face told Carter exactly what was going through Zach’s mind. He lowered his voice. “I can’t defend you in court if you deliberately cooperate with Cervenka.”
But Zach was too far gone to pay attention.
“And God forbid you get imprisoned or worse. Come on, man. Think about your family. Carrie. Your grandmother.”
Zach’s face changed.
Seeing he’d struck a nerve at last, Carter stepped away. He moved back to the file and continued sifting. “Good news is this might be enough to shut down the club, at least.”
Zach tensed. “I think we should hold off.”
Carter shot him a look. “Let me guess. The Fisher’s orders?”
If only. Zach checked his watch – show time. Quickly, he grabbed the stuffed folder. “I’ll see you in a bit.”
Heavy with concern, Carter watched Zach tread across the wooden floors and exit the apartment.
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