Tears fell from her eyes, hitting the yearbook in her lap in heavy plops. She’d run across it in her closet after taking a long shower, and apparently, after breaking up with Val the night before, she wasn’t quite done torturing herself. Hours later and she’d blown through two yearbooks four times, wanting to look at pictures of her and Val from their second darkest hour.
High school.
She flipped the pages absently, having looked at the book so many times over the course of her life that she knew it by heart. Still, as she came upon the page that held Val’s senior photo, it tugged at her heartstrings. She’d memorized the pages that held her brothers’ photos long ago, but whenever she came upon Val’s, it always felt like the first time, bringing her body to life, making her stomach rumble.
He wasn’t smiling in his senior photo. The same cloudy torture that lingered in his eyes back then had remained to that day. For a while, Zoey had prided herself on being the woman who could make those clouds fade away, even if only for a moment.
But Val’s pain had never gone away. Even on the first night she’d moved into the Romanovsky house in Jersey City ten years ago, the night they’d laid eyes on each other for the first time, the pain had been there.
He’d told her it was because he couldn’t have her, that the agony of his unrequited love had stolen his joy. Now she knew that wasn’t true. Even after she’d made herself his, become pregnant with his child, an engagement ring flashing on her finger, Val’s darkness had remained. If anything, it had become more apparent than ever.
She ran her fingers over his photo, wetness dropping from her eyes and landing on his face. She would do anything to ease that darkness in his eyes, but she had no idea how.
He wouldn’t share it with her.
He didn’t trust her with his heart’s most damaged parts, his heaviest pain. Not in the same way she trusted him with hers. He never had.
With a deep sigh, she flipped to the end of the book, unable to look at his photo anymore.
She went back to flipping pages, her blurry eyes lingering on random photos here and there, never focusing on one for longer than a few moments.
Another photo in the senior section hit her gaze. She ignored it at first, as she had with all the others, turning past it. But, for some reason, that photo stayed with her.
Halting, she hesitated, and then flipped back. She didn’t know what was pulling her in, but before she could give it any real thought, she was back on the page, running her fingers over the photo of the adobe-skinned girl who’d claimed her attention.
“Jessica Borgia,” she whispered. It hit her. Beer Belly Borgia. She smiled for the first time that night, remembering Gary had brought this girl up during dinner a few weeks back. So this was the girl Leo had terrorized all through high school.
Zoey continued running her fingers along the photo, her tears having dried.
When it hit her, it happened in an instant.
She didn’t know what it was about that photo that switched a light on in her mind, but it switched fast.
And she knew, somehow, that she was looking at Ashley Williams.
27
It always terrified Angie more after the sun had set.
The ring of keys.
A jiggle of the handle.
She knew Roman was the only one with a key to this apartment, but it didn’t stop the jolt that shook her bones, or the gasp that rushed to her throat, burning it. It didn’t stop her from taking the arms of the couch in a tight grip, standing halfway as her heart tripled in pace.
The knob jiggled again, followed by a loud knock.
She flinched, her heart coming to a complete stop.
“Angie!”
She exhaled when Roman’s voice came through the door, and raced around the chair, breezing through the room. She looked out the peephole before disabling the fresh deadbolts they’d had installed, opening it just enough to meet Roman’s blue eyes. They didn’t comfort her like they used to.
“My key isn’t working.” He swept through the tight opening in the door, barely getting his fingers clear before she slammed it shut and re-armed the locks.
She curled her nose, facing him. “You smell like smoke.”
With his back to her, Roman emptied his jacket pockets, tossing his wallet and keys on the dining room table.
She saw him cover his mouth with his hand.
“I thought you quit,” she whispered.
More silence.
“I did,” he responded, before sweeping off his coat. He threw it over a chair and then leaned on it. “I told you this building is the most secure in the city.” He turned to her. “But you’re still walking around like you’re afraid of your own shadow. I offered to give you office space at Novsky, but you turned me down, because you’re too afraid to leave this apartment. If I come up behind you and touch you without announcing my presence, you scream so loud it could crack the walls.”
Angie pushed back against the front door.
“So, yes.” Roman nodded. “I’m smoking again, Angie, because the very woman I stopped smoking for won’t even let me touch her. I’m smoking again, because I can’t sleep when the woman I love will not tell me what is scaring her to death. The Angie Colt I know isn’t afraid of anything, not even when she should be.”
“Or, maybe you’re smoking again… because you knew it was only a matter of time before I found out that you stole Val’s mug shot from me, knowing damn well I hadn’t seen it?”
Roman’s eyes hardened. “Maybe I’m smoking again because you won’t tell me who the hell gave it to you.”
She turned toward the kitchen, away from him, crossing her arms.
Roman’s breathing picked up. “I’m not the only one here keeping secrets, Angie. Don’t stand here and act like you were ever going to tell me the things you knew about my family. About the Blacks. About my brother. About my real father.”
“Roman, I didn’t tell you any of those things because I was trying to protect you.”
“You can’t play the martyr, Angie, when you’ve been pulling the wool over my eyes from day one. If I hadn’t found that mug shot, you would still be lying to me right now.”
She faced him. “Protecting you.”
“If that’s what you need to call it.”
Angie crossed her arms tighter. “What do you know?”
“What do you know?”
They stood across the room from each other, eyes dueling, neither in a hurry to answer.
“I’m smoking again because I can’t trust you.”
“I can’t trust you, either!”
Roman turned away, licking his teeth.
“Do you…” She faltered. “Do you even love me anymore, Roman?”
His eyes were pained when they flew back to her. “Of course I love you, Angie, but this is my family. I have to protect them.”
“From me?”
“From everything.”
“Including me?”
“Yes, you! You, goddamn it.” He moved closer.
Angie craned her neck, pushing back against the door.
“You won’t tell me who gave you the mug shot. As far as I’m concerned, your secrets are worse than mine. Your secrets work against me, against my family, when all I’m trying to do is protect my little brother!”
“I hope it’s worth it.” She nodded, tears touching her eyes. “I hope it’s worth protecting him, when I eventually end up dead.”
His mouth fell open.
“You want the truth, Roman? You want the fucking truth? The governor has a hit out on my life, because I was getting too close to the truth about what your little brother did.”
Roman clapped his lips closed.
“Yeah,” Angie spat. “The same brother you’re so hard up to protect is the reason I’m going to end up dead. There’s the fucking truth, Roman. Maybe you should start thinking about what it’s going to take to protect me?”
Roman took a step toward her, but when she trie
d to back away, slamming into the door, he froze.
At the impact, tears spilled out of her eyes. “King will do anything to be President, and when I went looking for Knox, I had no idea I was signing my own death certificate.”
“Angie…”
“King is the reason Knox left town, because Knox knew what happened the night the Blacks died, and he was smart enough to get the hell out of sight before King shut him up for good.” Angie shook her head. “I don’t know why he was stupid enough to come back here, but he did, and we both had the pleasure of finding him.”
Roman jammed his eyes closed.
Her voice rose. “You want the truth, Roman? That’s the truth. That’s why I’m afraid of my own shadow, why I can’t have your hands on me without freaking out, why I can’t even feel a piece of my own hair brushing against my shoulder without getting scared to fucking death. King is out to stop anyone who knows too much, and he will.” When she saw redness tingeing Roman’s cheeks, she whispered her next words once more. “I hope it’s worth it, Roman.”
Roman closed the space and encircled her in his arms. “I will never let anything happen to you, Mama. Never. I would lay my own life down before I’d ever let anyone get near you. Nothing is going to happen to you. I promise.”
Their bodies shook. His embrace dried Angie’s tears, but didn’t ease the terror in her heart.
“Tell me,” she whispered into his chest.
“Tell you what, Mama?”
“Which brother? Which of your brothers killed the Blacks?”
“Who gave you the mug shot?” he countered. “Who told you King put a hit out on you?”
Angie took a deep breath and didn’t answer.
Roman didn’t either.
The silence stretched on before Roman breathed deep. “I bought two guns.”
Angie held her breath, clawing her fingers into his shirt. “I don’t want a gun.”
“One for me,” he said, as if he hadn’t heard her. “And one for you. I’m meeting Val at Novsky tonight, and I can’t take you with me. Stay away from the windows, and keep the gun close.”
“Why guns, Roman?” Angie gripped him harder. “God, why guns?”
“Because…” He swallowed, and the sound danced through the air. “Because I’m going to kill Victor King. Tonight.”
Angie’s heart plummeted to her feet.
***
After changing and showering, Jessica slammed the door of the Westchester mansion behind her later that night before throwing her bag at the wall.
From his rolling chair, Chet watched it soar across the room, contents spilling out and scattering along the wood floor, before he moved his eyes back to her.
“Welcome to surveillance,” he said. “Congratulations, Jess. You’ve fucked this up beyond human comprehension.”
“Don’t welcome me to surveillance,” Jessica mumbled, stomping over to the table and glaring at him. “I quit last night.”
“Then you can’t be here.”
“Fuck you.”
“Harper said your quitting was bullshit. Said he wasn’t going to accept your resignation.”
“That’s his problem, not mine.”
“You’re a federal agent, Jess. That’s who you are. What’s the plan? You gonna go work behind a desk? You gonna be someone’s secretary? You’re emotional right now. Don’t throw everything away on your emotions.”
“Emotional!” she exploded. “Just like a woman, right? Just like every other female fed stupid enough to spread her legs for her suspect! God forbid I shed a tear or feel anything.”
Chet stood from his chair. “I have to take a dump.”
“Thanks for sharing—”
“Hopefully, when I come back, you’ll be the Jessica Borgia I know and love.” He nodded to a chair. “Sit down and take a breath.”
“Don’t talk to me like that,” she spat.
Needless to say, Jessica did not sit down, chest heaving as she watched Chet move across the room with a shake of his head. It wasn’t until he’d closed the bathroom door behind him that she raced to the surveillance screen and shoved a usb into the computer’s drive. As quickly as she could, she copied everything to the drive with trembling hands. If she was going to get Leo back, she’d have to go after Victor King on her own, and it would be much easier to take him down with all the information she’d gathered over the months at her disposal.
Jessica pulled up Val’s mug shot, ready to copy it to the disk, just as a knock on the door rang out.
She cringed, yanking the USB drive out, startled. She moved toward the door, hand on the Glock she’d shoved into the back of her black jeans. Keeping a hold of the handle, she checked the peephole and then opened the door halfway.
“Zoey!” She beamed, attempting nonchalance as she released the gun and put her body into the crack of the door. She took in Zoey’s blank face, her tightly crossed arms, the thin line at her usually full lips, and wondered if she knew. It had only been an hour since she’d left the hospital. Had Leo already told her everything?
“Jessica,” Zoey said, eyes wide. The knee length yellow shift dress she wore crumpled when she crossed her arms.
Jessica’s face fell. So Leo had gotten to her.
Zoey uncrossed her arms and held up the yearbook Jessica hadn’t even noticed she was clutching in her hand, open to a page she’d marked with her finger.
“Or should I say… Beer Belly Borgia?” Zoey asked. She didn’t let Jessica respond. “What in the world is going on? Why are you lying to everyone about your name? Are you trying to get one over on Leo? Is this some kind of weird high school revenge plot?”
Jessica licked her lips, realizing Leo hadn’t told Zoey. She’d found out on her own. Jessica went to step out of the house, but Zoey surprised her by shoving forward, putting her weight on the open door. Her protruding belly sent Jessica stumbling back, and Zoey took advantage, putting her foot in the doorway while craning her neck to look inside.
Her eyes went bigger as she took it in. “Why is your house empty?”
Jessica reached for her and tried to nudge her back outside, to get her foot out of the doorway, but Zoey slapped her hands away.
“Zoey, this is a secure location, and I will only tell you this once. Step back outside.”
They scuffled, but Zoey didn’t relent. “You going to manhandle a pregnant woman now? Huh? What the hell is going on?”
“Step outside now.” Jessica reached into the back of her jeans and produced the gun, taking a healthy step back so she could cock it and train it on Zoey’s head.
“Oh, you gonna shoot a pregnant woman now?” Zoey asked, shoving the door open and stepping into the foyer. “Go ahead and shoot!”
Jessica was startled at how not startled Zoey was at the sight of a gun pointed at her head. It occurred to her right then that Zoey would die for the Romanovskys, the people who she thought were her family, even though they were the very people who’d taken her real family away.
Realizing she couldn’t bully Zoey with the Glock the way she could most sane people, Jessica caught her before she could get into the dining room, tussling with her in the entryway while keeping the gun pointed in a safe direction. She begged Zoey to stop, to calm down, knowing that she couldn’t just kick out and put Zoey on her back the way she would with anyone else. She was in too delicate a condition, and Jessica couldn’t risk hurting her.
Zoey bellied past her, and Jessica finally let her, afraid the gun might go off if she kept fighting.
Zoey stumbled into the house, narrowly catching herself before tripping. She took in the two tables pushed together in the dining room, the security screens, the wires, the empty soda bottles and takeout scattered on the table.
“Oh my God,” Zoey breathed, looking over her shoulder at Jessica.
Jessica swallowed hard. “My name isn’t Ashley Williams. My name is Jessica Borgia.”
Zoey wasn’t listening, her eyes having gone back to the computer screen. “W
hy is Val’s…” She trailed away. “Is that a mug shot?”
“Zoey, listen to me.” Jessica waited for Zoey’s gaze to come back to her. “The FBI is investigating the murder of your parents.”
Zoey backed away from her, tears coming to her eyes the moment Jessica mentioned her parents. When her back hit the small wall that divided the foyer from the dining room, the tears nearly plummeted out.
“You’re investigating…” Zoey swallowed. “Leo?”
Jessica searched her face, and wondered if she should continue. It hit her that she was going to have to get Zoey on her side. And the only way to get her on her side was with the truth.
“Zoey.” Jessica licked her parched lips, and prepared for the explosion. “I’m investigating the family.” She swallowed. “I’m investigating Val.”
“Val?”
“I understand that’s difficult to hear.” Jessica watched as mascara-tinted tears fell from Zoey’s eyes and ran a race down her face and chest, staining the neckline of her shirt as she looked back to the mug shot on the computer. “Zoey, please. If we’re going to close this case, it’s imperative that you—”
Zoey’s lips curled down, still staring at the mug shot. “Val?”
“Zoey, take a deep breath. Why don’t you sit down for a moment?” Jessica waited for Zoey to tell her to fuck off. To spew every hateful word she could think up, the way people in shock usually did. She waited for the anger, the profanity. She was sure those words were on the edge of Zoey’s tongue.
Instead, a frown crossed Zoey’s face. Not a frown of sadness or anger.
No.
Zoey was in pain.
“Zoey?” Jessica demanded, as calmly as she could, watching as Zoey suddenly bent over at the waist, covering her protruding belly with the yearbook still clutched under her fingers. Jessica went to her just as Zoey suddenly cried out, clawing her fingers against the wall next to her, sinking slowly to her knees. The yearbook fell from her fingers, and she covered her stomach with both hands.
Jessica caught her arm just in time to break the fall to her knees. A single strip of red liquid raced passed the hem of Zoey’s dress and down the inside of her leg, disappearing as she crumpled into a heap on the floor. Zoey pushed a trembling hand between her thighs, and when she brought it back up, it was covered in blood. She met Jessica’s eyes, and the pain in them had been replaced with pure, unadulterated fear.
Loving Leo (The Romanovsky Brothers Book 3) Page 30