Compromised (30 page)

“I’ll take some of that Nutella French toast, babe. Thanks.”

“What about you, Ma?” I asked. “How about a trough of oatmeal to keep the old constitution chugging along?”

“Bah. My constitution is just fine, you rotten kid, but I could go for one of those cannoli cronuts.”

I bowed. “Your wish is my command.” I handed Max a butter cookie with a cherry on top, which he reluctantly traded for his blue crayon. What can I say? The kid is a workaholic and utterly committed to his art.

I took my time at the buffet, surveying it one last time in search of delicacies I might’ve somehow missed. Of course, nothing had escaped my eagle eye on the previous visits I’d made, but I spotted the barista behind the coffee bar and had him whip me up a cappuccino made with real espresso, because I decided that I needed the bean more than I needed the stuffed French toast. The stuffed French toast looked heavenly, but God knows it wasn’t as if I was never going to eat again, and I’d put on a few pounds from having been out of the gym for months. What with the blonde pixie haircut and all, I was beginning to look like a generously enhanced porn star. Gus didn’t seem to mind, but with all the cold showers he’d been taking, I was afraid we’d get an unkind letter from the EPA.

As I walked back to our table, I passed a family: a mom, a dad, and two little ones. There was something about the shape of the dad’s head and his black hair that reminded me of Yana. We’d been partners about a year, and though I initially struggled with our cultural differences, I had grown to care for him very much. It saddened me to think that he was gone and that his wife and two kids would have to forge through life without a husband and father. He was a good man who had paid for the sins of his brother.

It was something Yana once said to me that convinced me to go after his brother tooth and nail in the interrogation room. He’d once told me how surprised the family was when Haruki joined the police department because he had always been a troubled kid, the one who wasn’t expected to amount to anything. It wasn’t much of an indictment, but it was enough to swing my thinking, and I knew that there was a very thin line between being an undercover cop and being a dirty cop. It happens all the time—a policeman goes undercover and gets so immersed in the criminal lifestyle that he loses his way for good. And Harry had been a criminal all along, one who was exceedingly good at covering his tracks.

There was also the report we’d received from the Japanese government, in particular the section that stated, “There was evidence that Daichi’s brother had been betrayed by a spy, someone inserted into the family by a rival faction.” I didn’t hesitate a second before hounding Harry to the brink because I felt that he had most certainly been that spy.

Harry was going to stand trial for the murder of Daichi Shiroo. His brother was dead because of him, and he’d have to live with that bitter truth all the days he’d remain alive.

Because of him, Daichi Shiroo had likely followed Yana and me that entire day, taking the opportunity to shoot us from the rooftop when our path best aligned with his murderous MO and skill set. My guess was that he’d followed us to the building where Serafina Ramirez had lived, watched us park the car, and decided to shoot us from the roof of the building while we were returning to our car. Whether Daichi had planned on killing me as well as Yana would never be known, and really, at this point it no longer mattered.

I returned to a table of smiling faces, with Ma’s cronut and Gus’s French toast. Not that he needed another, but Max got a second cookie as well. I mean, all was finally right with the world—Yana’s killer was dead, I was on the mend and surrounded by loved ones, and with a little good luck I’d somehow manage to hold onto a career in law enforcement.

All told we spent most of two full hours with our derrieres firmly planted in comfortable chairs, gorging ourselves on food and drink. It wasn’t until we were outside and a horse-drawn carriage came to a stop that I was forced to spill the beans.

“What the hell is this?” Gus asked, sounding suspicious. “What did you do now, Stephanie?”

Ma was giggling as she hailed a cab and stowed Max and his stroller within.

I grinned mischievously. “Ma’s gonna watch Max for a couple of days. I shot the wad on twenty-four-hour concierges, twenty-four-hour room service, twenty-four-hour hallway butlers, and an eight-thousand-square-foot spa. I booked the Plaza, babe. Let’s
rock
.”

“But what about—”

“The doc?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m good to go. The doc gave me the all clear. I haven’t had a seizure in over two months and he said that you could ride me like one of Teddy Roosevelt’s Rough Riders.”

“Did he really?” Gus crossed his arms and looked into my eyes with a serious expression. “Were those his
exact
words?”

“Almost verbatim.”

“You’re sure we’re not rushing this?”

“I’m fine,” I assured him. “More than fine—I’m randy as a rabbit and ready to be ravaged.”

The horse whinnied. “I guess all the talk about the Rough Riders got him excited.”

“How do you know it’s a him?” I asked.

Gus pointed at the powerful beast’s underside. I turned, and my eyes grew large. I continued to glance at the proud equine before kissing Gus. “Well, big fella, are you ready to climb aboard, or am I leaving with the horse?”

~END~

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Compromised
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For more information on Stephanie Chalice and Chloe Mather thrillers and my other books, please visit my website:
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Full-Length Novels

Don’t Close Your Eyes

Ransom Beach

The Brain Vault

Our Honored Dead

Baby Girl Doe

Compromised

Stephanie Chalice Novellas

First Kill: Prequel #1

Second Chance: Prequel #2

Third Victim: Prequel #3

In the Chloe Mather Thriller Series

Secrets of the Kill

Rules of the Kill

Legends of the Kill

Carnage of the Kill
(Winter 2016)

Other Full-Length Works of Fiction

Counterblow

Kiss of the Devil’s Breath

Palindrome

Saving Cervantes

Season of Faith

I never expected to be a writer. In fact, I was voted the student least likely to visit a library. (Don’t believe it? Feel free to check my high school yearbook.) Well, times change I suppose, and I have now authored several novels, including the internationally bestselling Stephanie Chalice and Chloe Mather thriller series.

Early in my writing career, I received support from none other than bestselling novelist, Nelson DeMille, who reviewed my work and actually put pencil to paper to assist in the editing of the first book. DeMille has been a true inspiration to me and has also given me some tough love. Way before he ever said, “Lawrence Kelter is an exciting new novelist, who reminds me of an early Robert Ludlum,” he told me, “Kid, your work needs editing, but that’s a hell of a lot better than not having talent. Keep it up!”

I’ve lived in the metro New York area most of my life and rely primarily on locales in Manhattan and Long Island for story settings. I do my best to make each novel quickly paced, and crammed full of twists, turns, and laughs.

Enjoy!

LK