Finding Gary (The Romanovsky Brothers Book 4) (16 page)

“I wish I could help, but I don’t know where he is.  And just so we’re clear; when you cross Rome, he
will
become violent, his anger
will
make him stupid, and there isn’t a damn thing you can do to stop him.  The only person in the world who can stop Rome; is Rome.”

13

Roman’s heart had never beat so fast, but when the door to the employee entrance, situated in the back alley of the arena, squeaked open, his heart went into overdrive.  Pushing off the wall and meeting eyes with the short Mexican dishwasher that he’d accosted moments earlier, Roman raised his eyebrows, blue eyes grim.

The Mexican gave a sharp nod inside, and Roman didn’t waste a moment stepping into the building.  Looking around the busy kitchen, Roman waited for the dozens of employees milling about to look at him curiously, to ask him if he was lost or how he’d gotten in.  None of them did.  Strings of hurried Spanish flew through the air, accompanied by deep belly laughter.  He was relieved to see the employees having too much fun with each other to notice the massive blonde man who’d just stepped into their kitchen.

Roman went into his pocket and came up with a thick wad of hundreds between his fingers, offering it to the expectant Mexican man.  As the wad was snatched from his fingers, Roman was sure he saw cartoon dollar signs glowing in the man’s eyes.

The man motioned for him to follow.  After moving through several different hallways, a winding stairwell and down a service elevator, Roman found himself at his destination.  He turned to thank the man, but he’d already scurried off, probably on his way to give his two week’s notice.  Roman had placed enough cash in his hands to pay his rent for a year.

Roman entered the arena, doing his best to remain inconspicuous as he immersed himself in the thickening crowd.

Five thousand Victor King supporters had already sardined themselves into the small venue when Roman made his way in that evening.  Every starry-eyed follower had been granted admission.  Signs boasted King’s moniker in bold red letters, soaring high in the sky from every corner of the room, propped up by hundreds of different arms.  Arms that were sure to be cramped by the time the man they were holding those signs for actually made his appearance on stage.

An hour later, the venue was filled to capacity, anticipation for King’s speech ebbing and flowing over the crowd with more ferocity every minute.  Soon, the chanting began.  Catchphrases and clichés that had made King’s campaign so successful, and had given him the title of frontrunner, flowed through the room.  The American people loved a slogan, and Victor had slogans for days, all of which made Roman’s stomach sick as the crowd chanted them in unison. 

Licking his parched lips, Roman squinted towards the large press stage at the back of the room.  He’d been keeping his eyes on that stage, where various poorly dressed, unshaven men were perched behind cameras looking bored to death.  They were the only people in the room besides him, it seemed, who had no interest in worshipping Victor King.

Roman ached to be where they were.  Not because he hated Victor as much as they obviously did, but because they had the best vantage point.

Instead of charging blindly, Roman took his time studying the one security guard manning the entrance to the press stage.  Few men in the world could match Roman in size and strength, but that guard was the anomaly.  Taller and broader than Roman, with bulky arms even his XXL security t-shirt couldn’t contain, Roman knew there would be no strong arming this one. So he watched him, quickly learning that the guard had grown enamored with a young girl sitting on a folding chair at the far end of the press stage.  Every time the guard shot the young girl a suggestive leer, he turned his gaze away from the press stage completely.

When he did it for the millionth time that evening, Roman was waiting at the edges of the gates.  This time, the guard nodded at her, and when she smiled back, Roman took the plunge and leaped over the gates, counting on the fact that a smile from a woman was enough to blind even the most sensible men—let alone that idiot security guard.

And blind him it had.  By the time Roman was on the other side of the gate, making his way up the stairs to the press stage, the guard’s eyes—and his hard dick—were still pointed squarely at the girl.

At the top of the stage, Roman made sure the guard wasn’t aware of a new face that hadn’t been there before, and then tucked himself into a quiet corner in the back.

Minutes later, the arena erupted as Victor King was introduced, and he strutted onto the stage.  Everyone on the press stage manned their cameras, hoping Victor would say something problematic and provocative—a habit that had seemed to endear him to the public more than alienate him.

Roman had planned on waiting until Victor was halfway through his speech.  Until his supporters, his secret service, and even Victor himself, had grown slightly bored, slightly complacent, slightly off.

But Roman couldn’t wait.

Swallowing thickly and licking his lips, which were now cracking under the dryness, he reached inside his jacket and removed the pistol.

His eyes burned with either fury or agony, he wasn’t sure which, and as he lifted the gun and aimed it straight at King’s head; Roman could only hope his shot was as sharp today as it had been when he’d go shooting at the range as a kid.

Even if it wasn’t, Roman wasn’t above emptying that chamber to get what he came for. 

As he tilted his head and squinted one eye, centering the barrel on King’s bald head, it was the first time that day Roman’s heart didn’t feel like it was at war with his lungs.  His breathing didn’t feel seconds from giving out.  His legs didn’t shake so badly he distantly feared they might break right off.

He felt at peace.

When he cocked the gun, something Victor said inspired a deafening cheer, muffling the sound, and Roman knew this was right.  This was meant to be.

He primed his finger on the trigger and thought of Angie.  He thought of his child.  The child he’d nearly lost. And he was at peace.

The trigger moved under his finger but froze halfway to completion when Victor was suddenly flanked by two men on the stage.

Jolting, Roman lowered the weapon, sure that the secret service had spotted the gun at the back of the arena.  He looked around, waiting to be accosted.  When he wasn’t, his wide eyes hit the stage again.

Victor leaned away from the microphone, covering it with his palm while whispering to the man on his left.  When he didn’t like what that man had to say, he turned to the one on his right, giving him a piece of his mind.

After a heated exchange, King’s arms were pulled behind his back.  His thick wrists were slapped with cuffs. 

Roman couldn’t even hear the deafening screams and boos that permeated the arena; bouncing off the walls with such ferocity there was no doubt the chaos could be heard outside.

As Victor King was led off stage, Roman saw, for the first time, a gold badge gleaming off the hip of one of the men leading him away.

When Victor was whisked backstage and out of sight, the stunned disapproval of the crowd moved from ear-splitting boos to ear-splitting screams.  Even the media personal in front of him were going out of their minds, unable to process what had just happened.

An unidentified man hurried onto the stage after Victor vacated, and gave the audience a quick, apologetic, shaky speech, declaring that the rally would be postponed until further notice.

The gun fell from Roman’s hand and clunked to the ground.

***

“As I’m sure you all know, Victor King was escorted off stage by the FBI at one of his rallies. He’s been indicted, and a trial jury has been convened.  Due to his unusual circumstance, his trial’s been fast tracked.  It starts Monday.  That’s two whole days away.  Two whole days for the six of you to figure out how to be in a room together without going for each other’s throats. Val, I’m looking at you…” Jessica shot Val an exasperated look across the conference table.  He squinted at her.  Jessica broke their gaze.  “I’ve got you all immunity for the part you played in the Blacks’ death, and I’ve kept you all out of prison.  I did my part. What I can’t do is fix this volatile family dynamic you’ve got going, so I need you all to hold it together while you’re testifying against Victor King.  If we’re going to get a jury on our side, they need to feel the love, not the hate…  It’s high time this family got to work figuring out its differences so we can ensure King is found guilty, pays the price for decades of intimidation and police corruption, and is put away forever.” 

Jessica pressed the beds of her fingers on the table and leaned forward, making sure to meet eyes with every member of the Romanovsky family.  She felt like her words simply weren’t resonating. They surrounded each other at the long boardroom table in The US Attorney’s Office.  They’d arrived at various intervals over the course of ten minutes, and it was clear without a single word being spoken that the family was still at odds.

At the head of the table, Gary had been the first to arrive.  After saying hello to Jessica, he’d taken his seat at the head of the table, and his eyes had been narrowing to the door of the boardroom ever since.  She could see he was sick to the bone.  It was the first time in months he’d sat down with his entire family.  A family that still felt hurt and betrayed by him.  She couldn’t blame him for his nerves.

Upon stepping into the boardroom, each family member had given Gary a different reaction.  Bette, Gary’s mother, had laid eyes on him and promptly burst into tears, collapsing into a chair a few seats down from him, hiding her face in a handful of tissues.  Tony, Gary’s father, had come next, taking the seat next to Gary—who was on the verge of tears himself after the cold exchange with Bette—clasping a hand on his shoulder and squeezing gently.  Bette’s tears had dried the second Tony showed his face, and they’d stayed that way even after Roman and Leo made their way inside, each popping a kiss on her cheek before taking the seats between her and Gary.

Val had come last, and at the sight of Gary at the head of the table, he hadn’t even made it through the door before his entire face went beet red.  He’d lunged across the room with hatred in his eyes, and it had taken the begging of his mother, the admonishment of Jessica, and the brute strength of Roman and Leo to hold Val back.  After several minutes of bicep bursting restraint and whispered words, Val had begrudgingly plopped down in the seat farthest away from Gary, at the opposite end of the table.

Jessica leaned on the table between Gary and Leo, doing everything she could to hold herself together when Leo’s scent floated into her nose and made the room spin.

“I know Jack has prepped all of you on your testimony, and he’ll be here any minute to give you guys a final prep before he sees you in court on Monday.”  The grim expression she’d worked hard to put on her face wavered when she felt Leo’s leg accidentally brush against hers under the table.  Her eyes flew to him.  He didn’t look up, but she could see it on his face.  He’d felt it too.

In an attempt to focus, she cleared her throat.  “I’m sure you’ve all heard King has been charged, and is out on bail.  Our plan was to have him under arrest before the Republican National Convention, and we succeeded.  No way the Republican Party is going to allow him to continue moving forward as their front runner.”

“And this is bad news, how?” Roman’s voice rang in.

Jessica looked across the table at him, finding the same hard look on his face as Val’s, but his soft features made it seem less severe.  “It isn’t.  No one is more thrilled about King losing the nomination than I am.  It will ensure he never sees the inside of our Oval Office and will cripple his connections to Manhattan’s elite.  Unfortunately, the FBI’s success comes at the expense of your safety.  News is spreading fast.  The media storm will be unbelievable.  You’ll all be safe for the moment because he won’t make any big moves with this many eyes on him.  But once the storm dies down?  All bets are off.  The reason I wanted to meet you all today was to remind you that, while this thing is almost over, it’s not over yet.  Once the GOP contests his nomination, King will officially have absolutely nothing to lose.”  When her eyes met Gary’s, she saw him square his shoulders and then moved her eyes to Tony.  “I don’t think I need to explain to any of you what a man is capable of when he has absolutely nothing to lose.”

Leo leaned into the table, clasping his hands mere inches from Jessica’s.  The tips of his knuckles brushed against hers.  It stole her concentration.  When she met his eyes, she knew it wasn’t an accident.

“What I’m trying to say is…” She cleared her throat again, struggling to focus.  “It might be a good idea for all of you to stick together until King is convicted.”

Val made a noise.

Jessica gave him her laziest eyes.  “Val.  His political and social ties may be obliterated, but his mob ties remain strong.  He still has the allegiance of a lot of dangerous people, and that won’t stop until he’s behind bars.”  She stood tall and motioned to Bette.  “Bette.  That palace you’re living in is certainly big enough to hold the entire family, and it’ll be easier for our protective agents to keep an eye out if you’re all in one house.  I’d like Angie Colt there, as well.  It won’t be forever.  I just need you all alive long enough to testify.  After that, you can knock yourselves out trying to exterminate each other.”

“Zoey?” Val said.

“Is with Taj,” Jessica nodded.  “She and Marcus are safe.”

“Taj,” Val spat.  “Why doesn’t that make me feel better?”

“Because you have issues with anger and control,” Jessica answered, catching his annoyed eyes.  “But that’s a whole other conversation.”