Double Shot to the Heart (Brewed Moon Book 2)

by Critch, J. Margot

  Mitch dragged his fingers through his hair. Her vulnerability made his heart clutch. He wanted to pull her into his arms and protect her from the world. But he was on the job, and she was a witness. He couldn’t forget that. He had to keep a distance from her. “If these guys think you can put them behind bars, they are probably going to at least try to intimidate you. But we won’t take any chances, so we plan for the worst and hope for the best.”

  Mitch watched Juliana as her eyes closed and her head leaned back against the wall. She wobbled a little and Mitch feared she might fall over. He recognized the mix of emotions that she exhibited - shock, anger, hopelessness, sadness. “Maybe we should go sit down.” Mitch reached out to steady her, but she pushed his hands away.

  “I’m fine,” she told him.

  “Juliana,” he murmured. Looking around the café, he saw a couple of uniformed officers nearby. He knew it was unprofessional, and that he could be reported, but he reached out and touched her, cupping her cheek, focussing her attention on to him. She leaned into his touch and closed her eyes. To hell with who might be looking, he thought, as he put another arm around her and pulled her to him. She went willingly and clutched at him, her arms wrapping tightly around his back. He caught the surprised eyes of one of the officers over Juliana’s shoulder, but a hard glare told the younger man to mind his own business.

  He felt Juliana relax into his embrace, and heard her sigh, so he held her close, and silently vowed to protect her at any cost. He was going to take down the Russians if it was the last thing he did. He pressed his lips to the top of her head. “I know that this is a lot to take in right now. But I will keep you safe. You don’t have to worry about anything. You have me.”

  She stilled for a moment, and was silent until she breathed a humourless laugh into his chest. She pulled away a little, but he wasn’t willing to let her go. “Yeah, I don’t have anything to worry about. You know, except for the people that want me dead. The mob? Mitch, this is St. John’s, not New York City. We don’t have those types of problems here.”

  “There’s a lot that happens in this city that most people don’t know about.”

  She pulled away, and he admired the way she straightened her shoulders and looked him square in the eye. “Okay, I’m done feeling helpless. What happens now?”

  Mitch’s phoned pinged again, he looked at the screen, and saw the message from Steve before he answered her. “We can go back to your place to pick up a few things. The guys checked it out. Everything seems fine there for now.”

  “For now,” she repeated.

  Mitch reached out to her again, cupping her elbow with his fingertips. “Come on. Let’s go.” As they exited the café they could see that the chaos of the morning’s activity had died down a little. Yellow police tape still stretched across the store front and pedestrians walked slowly, craning their necks to see if they could get a peek at any violence or gore. But that wasn’t what held Mitch’s attention, as he escorted Juliana to his truck.

  No. As he opened the door on the passenger side of his vehicle, the thing that made his hair stand on end was the black town car, with the illegally-tinted windows that rolled slowly past the café. The car came to a stop in front of the café as Mitch closed the truck door behind Juliana and put a hand on the butt of the sidearm in his shoulder holster. He tensed to react, but the car simply sped off down the street, spraying slush and road salt in the air. Just another rubbernecker I guess, Mitch thought as he walked around to the driver side. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

  Chapter 6

  Juliana unlocked her apartment door, with Mitch following close on her heels. She heard him whisper something to Steve, Peter and Joe who were standing in the hallway, and Steve joined them inside before locking the door behind them. Juliana looked around. Her apartment looked the same as it had when she’d left for work that morning. But everything felt different. She crept around like she expected a pair of killers to jump out from behind the furniture at any moment.

  “Just grab a few essential things,” Mitch said, breaking the silence. His voice startled her, making her jump. “Enough for a week, maybe two. I don’t want to stay here too long.”

  Juliana wracked her brain for what she could put in that bag. Of everything she owned, how would she deem what was essential and what was frivolous?

  “I don’t know why I just can’t stay here,” she said over her shoulder. “Can’t you just put a couple of cops in a car outside? I won’t let anyone in. I’ll stay home. It’ll be fine.”

  Mitch shook his head. “I’m afraid not, Juliana. If these guys think that they have a witness identifying them in a murder it probably won’t be long before they find out where you live. I need to be able to keep you safe.”

  Juliana rolled her eyes. “Mitch, you’re being dramatic.”

  “I’m being cautious,” he said simply, crossing his arms in front of his chest and watching her. “It’s my job.”

  “Well, I think you’re intentionally trying to scare me so I do what you say. You’re trying to make me bend to your will.”

  He grinned, and Juliana stood back and looked at him, taking him in. He’d never been in her apartment before, and yet she was surprised at how at home he looked there now, how much it seemed like he belonged there. For a moment, Juliana allowed herself to fantasize that he was there to see her socially - to take her out on a date, or to stay in and watch a movie, sleep in her bed, stay for breakfast. He still wore his sunglasses and his leather coat stretched across his broad shoulders, and she almost asked him to take it off and get comfortable, but she knew it wasn’t a social visit. Even though she’d had an abnormal, traumatic day, she couldn’t deny that he was devastatingly attractive and, as inappropriate as it was, desire still flushed throughout her. Her sexual fantasies were the only thing keeping her sane. She continued to stare, and she swore that a moment might have passed between them. He cleared his throat, and frowned at her. The fantasy faded quickly under the weight of the current circumstances.

  “It might seem like I’m trying to control you,” he told her, taking off his sunglasses. “But the truth is I’m looking out for your best interests. While the truth might be scary to you, that fear is what will keep you safe.”

  “It’s what will keep you safe,” she repeated in a deep voice, mimicking him. She smiled. “And now you’re being dramatic again.”

  “Just go pack your bag,” he ordered her with a sigh and a heavenward cast of his eyes. But she didn’t miss the small smile that turned up one corner of his mouth.

  “Say please.”

  “Please,” he said in a low, gravelly voice, almost a whisper. The sound was familiar, and pleasing in the way it hit her ears. She was surprised when it plucked at her consciousness, sending another wave of need crashing over her. “Go into your bedroom, and pack you bag. The quicker you can do that, the quicker we can get you to the safe house.”

  “Fine.” She said, walking past him, stalking to her bedroom, only a little disappointed when he didn’t follow her.

  While Mitch waited for Juliana to finish packing he took a couple of minutes to look over her apartment. It was small, but neat, and smelled faintly like coffee, mixed with her floral. Her furniture was simple and functional, yet tasteful. And the room had a rather charming feature, a fireplace that held, instead of logs, dozens of white pillar candles. It was an elegant, romantic touch. He walked closer to get a better look.

  On the mantle were photographs. All of them pictures of Juliana with Erica and Azura, her best friends. The three of them were a stunning trio, close and fiercely loyal to each other. He was surprised not to see any pictures of family.

  “I’m ready.”

  He turned at the sound of her voice and saw her standing behind him with a small duffle bag slung over her shoulder.

  “You have everything you need?”

  She shrugged. “Yeah, I live pretty simply. I assume wherever we end up will have a wash
ing machine in case I need to do laundry?”

  “You should be alright. This hopefully won’t last long.”

  She took a long look around her comfortable living room. He had no idea what must have been going through her head. He couldn’t hope to know. All he did know was that he wanted to make the whole process better, easier for her. Keep her safe.

  “Well, I guess I’m good to go,” she said and walked toward the door. “Let’s do this.”

  Mitch was barely to his truck when his cell phone rang in his pocket. He pulled it out and held it to his ear as he fished his keys out of his jeans. “Peter, what’s up?”

  “We just picked up Yuri Petrova and Alexei Ygenev, not far from the café.”

  Mitch’s eyes widened. “What?”

  “The driver, Ygenev, was speeding, and officers found a couple of guns in the car. We’re hoping to hold both of them on weapons charges.”

  Mitch couldn’t help but smile at this lucky break. “Juliana couldn’t ID them as the shooters, but it couldn’t hurt to talk to them. Why don’t you arrange a line-up when we get there? Jules can take a fresh look.”

  Chapter 7

  Juliana looked at the faces of the men in the line-up in front of them. She tried to make the faces in front of her match those of the men she’d seen earlier that morning through the peephole, but none of them were familiar. “No,” she said, without hesitation.

  “You’re sure?” Mitch asked her, as he surveyed the line-up as well.

  She turned to him. “Absolutely. None of these are the men I saw.”

  “Alright,” he said, knocking on the glass, before he ushered her back into the hallway. “You did great.”

  “So, do you have any idea when I can go home? If you think you’ve got something, it should be fine, right?” she asked him, hope in her eyes. It was only four in the afternoon, but it had already been the longest day of her life. She wanted her bathtub, her bed, a book, an appointment with Mr. Fox at Leather & Lace.

  She saw Mitch hesitate before he spoke. “Not yet,” he told her. “I’ve got to do the interrogation with the guys we picked up, and there’s no telling how long that will take. Why don’t you go back to the safe house with Steve?”

  She wanted nothing more than to leave the police station, but the thought of leaving Mitch scared her more than she thought it could, and she resented how dependant on him she had already become. She was disappointed, as she was so used to being strong and independent. She’d fought for everything on her own, and the fact that she now relied on Mitch’s presence didn’t sit right with her. In spite of herself, she looked up at him. “Can I stay here with you?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “I might be a while. But, of course you can stay. I’d prefer it, actually. I don’t want you too far out of my sight.” He smiled and they shared a quiet moment in the chaos of the precinct before they were interrupted.

  “Mitch, you ready?” Peter called from up the hallway.

  “Yeah, just give me a second.” Mitch put a palm on the small of Juliana’s back, and escorted her around the corner. He led her to a room that was a little bit out of the way, away from the hustle and bustle of the noisy bedlam that was the precinct. There was a couch, four desks, a small basketball hoop on one wall, a dart board on another, lockers, and a long table of technological gadgets lining the back.

  “Sorry about the mess,” he said with a sheepish grin. “We aren’t exactly housekeepers.”

  “What is this place?”

  “It’s our war room.”

  “War room?”

  “We’re a special team, and they gave us our own space because a lot of our work is undercover and confidential. But you can wait here,” he said, picking up a stack of magazines from the couch. “Steve will be here if you need anything.” As if on cue, Steve walked into the room carrying a cardboard tray of coffee cups and a paper bag. Mitch relieved him of his burden, handing Juliana a bag and a cup.

  “There’s some sandwiches in the bag,” Mitch told her. “Take whichever one you like.” He sipped from a coffee cup and presented one to her. “It’s not from Indonesia,” he said of the coffee. “But I figured you could use a cup.”

  “Thanks,” she said, accepting it. She would drink mud at that moment as long as it was caffeinated. She sniffed at the opening in the lid. On second thought, she might actually be drinking mud, but she was grateful for the caffeine, either way.

  “You think you’ll be okay here?” he asked her.

  She looked around. “I’ll be fine.”

  It looked like Mitch was about to say something else, but instead he nodded and turned away. He closed the door, leaving her alone with Steve.

  Chapter 8

  Mitch walked toward the interrogation room. Peter met him at the door.

  “You’re too late,” his brother told him. “Petrova’s already been sprung.”

  “What? How is that possible? He was just in our line-up.”

  “As soon as you left with Juliana, he lawyered up and his counsel claimed that the guns belonged to Ygenev and he had no idea that they were in the vehicle. He’s already gone.”

  “He was an innocent bystander?” Frustrated, Mitch punched the wall, which resulted in little more than sore knuckles, and dented plaster. He’d only been gone for five minutes. “That’s bullshit,” he argued with his brother.

  “Yeah, we know that. The captain said we had to cut him loose. But Ygenev is still here.” He hooked a thumb at the closed door of the interrogation room.

  Even though Mitch and Peter knew that Petrova had a hand in many crimes in the city, the man didn’t even have a record, that was the hallmark of a successful mob boss. He stayed clean, and under the radar and always had people willing to take the rap for any crime he committed.

  Mitch walked into the room, watching the Russian man who sat across the table from him. Peter took the seat opposite from him while Mitch remained standing.

  “You had a busy morning,” Mitch started.

  Ygenev said nothing.

  “We’ve got you for weapons charges. Those guns in the car are going to buy you a nice chunk of time in prison.” The burly Russian registered no sign that he was even paying attention. Mitch decided to take a different approach. “I wonder if you’re willing to take the fall for murder charges? Want to at least try to fake interest in that?”

  The Russian’s cool eyes looked up at him, narrowed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the gravelly voice supplied.

  “Matty Connor,” Peter supplied. “Why’d you kill him?”

  “I didn’t kill anybody.”

  “We’ve got a witness who says that around six-thirty this morning you shot Matty Connor and left him in an alley.” Peter was bending the truth a little, trying to scare him into giving them information.

  “I didn’t kill anybody,” he repeated. “I want my lawyer.”

  Peter lightly smacked Mitch’s shoulder. “Hear that? He wants a lawyer.”

  “I heard.” He leaned across the table. “But before we do that, Mr. Ygenev, I’ve got a little deal to make with you. Tell me if this interests you.”

  Alexei’s eyes rose to meet Mitch’s. He was interested.

  “You’re going down for these guns either way,” Mitch said simply. “But if the ballistics tests from either matches our crime scene, and I think they will, then you’ll be on the hook for murder. But for how long you go to prison depends on whether or not you can help us.”

  “I don’t want to help you.”

  “Well, have a great, long life behind bars.” Mitch and Peter both stood and walked for the door.

  “Wait,” the man called from the table. They turned to face him. “What do you want?”

  Mitch walked back to the table and placed his fists flat on it, hovering over Alexei. “We want your boss.”

  “In what way?”

  “The only way the captain lets you out of the frying pan is if we put a bigger fish in your place. So, we want you to
give us everything. His transactions, his partnerships. I want to know his network. Everything that you know, we want to know.”

  “An interesting offer, too bad I don’t know anything. I can’t help you.”

  “Come on, you’re his right-hand man. We both know that. Unless of course, he doesn’t trust you with any of the important information.”

  “He trusts me.”

  “Good. I like to hear that. It’s good to have people who trust you right, Mitch?” Peter sat on the edge of the table.

  “That’s right,” Mitch added. “This man right here is my brother, and there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him. I trust him with my life every day. Do you have that sort of relationship with Yuri Petrova? Do you think you can trust him, a man like that, with your life?”

  “Yes.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that. We brought you both in at the same time but his flashy lawyer has already come and gone with Yuri. Got him clean off the hook, and they left you here to flounder.” He looked dramatically around the room. “But where is your lawyer? Why didn’t your boss, the man you apparently trust so well, why didn’t he call in his legal team to help his friend?”

  “Weird. Doesn’t sound much like a very good friend,” Peter furrowed his eyebrows.

  “It sure doesn’t,” Mitch agreed.

  Alexei sat back, saying nothing. “I want to call my lawyer.”

  “Okay, cool,” Mitch said with a shrug. “But when your lawyer comes in here, we can’t offer you the same deal, or any type of leniency, and then you’ll go down for first-degree murder. And I’ll bet if we looked for your immigration papers, we wouldn’t find any, now would we?

  He shifted in his chair, averting his eyes.

  “We could send you back Moscow for your sentence. I’ve never been inside of Russian jail cell, but it probably isn’t pretty.” He paused for effect. “What’s your answer?”

  Mitch could see him weighing his options, neither of which would lead to a positive outcome for the man. Mitch may have over-stated how good of a deal they could get for the man. But he didn’t feel too bad. The man in front of him was a killer. The other option was to rat on his boss and friend.