Finding Gary (The Romanovsky Brothers Book 4) (27 page)

Taj’s nostrils flared against his strangled breath, and his arctic eyes blazed across the street below.  “Hailey?”

“Is alive,” Victor said.  “And she’ll stay that way, as long as you do as we agreed.”

Taj’s head fell.

“I hope you’re not thinking of turning your back on me now.  It would be a foolish decision Taj.”

Taj let a silence fall in, sweat collecting between his ear and the phone, his eyes on the ground.  He could still taste the red wine on his tongue.  Could still feel the ball in his stomach that had flourished when he’d come close to tasting the wine on Zoey’s.  God, how many other parts of her he’d yearned to taste before she’d pulled back and stopped him.  The luxury of time had been the only thing to bring him solace at that moment, and now that was being taken from him too. 

Victor King was losing power.  His presidential run was all but a memory and would soon stain the pages of history books as the most catastrophic political failure the country had ever seen.  Even though Victor was going up in flames, he still had a chokehold on Taj that was impossible to fight.

“No,” Taj grumbled, jamming his eyes shut when his stomach went sick.  “I’ll be ready.”

“Good.” King’s deep inhalation came through the phone.  “All I’ve done is give to them, and all they’ve done is take from me.”

Taj shook his head, the muscles under his shoulders rolling and squaring.

King’s voice lowered, going gravely.  “They’ve taken everything.  It’s high time they understand what it feels like to be taken from.”

Taj swallowed back the lump in his throat, but it didn’t bring him peace.  It just plummeted to the bottom of his stomach like a boulder, nearly bringing him to his knees.

Victor sighed.  “Seventy-two hours, at the absolute latest.  Then you’ll have your precious Hailey.”

Taj’s head shot up, and he opened his eyes, letting the sunlight glimmer off the moisture that had accumulated there.

“And we’ll never see each other again.”

After that declaration, Victor ended the call, leaving Taj alone to stew in the silence on the balcony.  Even as he heard the call click off, Taj kept the phone on his ear, feeling his own sweat drip down the screen and patter to the balcony floor.

Then, the phone fell from his fingers and clattered to his shoes on the ground.  He leaned his arms on the railing and pressed his forehead into them, trying to remember how to breathe.

***

The next morning, Jessica pushed off the hood of her car and stood tall.  She ran her fingers through her hair and straightened her jacket.  She smiled, then frowned, then smiled again.  Her feet shifted back and forth, and her hands went deep into her pockets.

Leo met her eyes from the doors of his building.  He hesitated, put his own hands in his pockets, and began down the stairs toward her.

“Aye,” he said.

Jessica jolted as that word wafted softly in her ear, in the way it only could when it was coming out of his mouth. She looked over both shoulders, then spun on her heel in a full circle.

“Aye?” she asked, once she was facing him, again.  She caught Leo’s eyes just as he was slowing to a stop in front of her.

He fought the smile picking up at the corner of his mouth.  “Are you stalking me now?”

“I told you and your family not to leave the house in Westchester until King is behind bars.  Straight to work and then back to Westchester, Leo.  Not straight to work with pit stops at your apartment and Garrett’s Popcorn.”

“So you
have
been stalking me.”

She licked her lips at him, still amazed at how far back she had to crane her neck to look up at him. 

“Anyway, Garrett’s is worth dying for.”  He smiled.

“Are we having a conversation?” she asked, almost embarrassed at how soft her voice had gotten.  She’d never even realized it was capable of going that low.

He held her eyes for a moment longer before moving his hands into the back pockets of his jeans.  His half smile bloomed to a full one, and he dropped his head to hide it, breathing out a laugh.

“Is everything okay?” Jessica asked, shaking her hair out of her eyes.  “Are you on the verge of reminding me what a terrible person I am, how you’ll never forgive me, how sick you are of seeing my face every time you turn around, how my pussy is poisonous…  I can keep going… You’ve given me plenty of material…”

He shot her a look from under his eyes.

“Go ahead.” Jessica smiled, wagging her arms through the air.  “I’m sure you can’t resist letting another day go by without tearing my heart out—”

Her words came to a gasping stop when Leo leaned forward and covered her lips with his, not just stealing the rest of her sentence, but the very act of recalling how to breathe, or even her own name.  Her eyes instantly fell shut, her mind went bubbly, and even the black world inside her head began to spin as her body gave all its attention to the very act of keeping her shredded heart beating.  When his lips left hers with a smack, she felt it piecing itself back together with each frantic pound and came to her toes for more of the only thing that could heal her.

He parted his lips and received her, tapping the tip of his tongue against her bottom lip.  They moaned together when her own swept against his, and her arms locked around his shoulders as she heeded his gentle invitation, spreading her lips wide over his.

His big arms came around her waist, and she knew there weren’t enough Glock 22s in the world, enough backup agents in the city, or enough bottles of Jameson Blue in production that could ever make her feel more safe and secure than she felt right then.  When those arms pulled her in even closer, and they both tilted their heads, she laughed against his lips, because his hardness instantly brushed her belly button.

The kiss broke, and he moaned at her departure, refusing to release her, instead tugging her in deeper, tucking his lips into her neck and breathing her in.

She did the same, letting her eyes open and fly to the sky, giving silent thanks to the God’s she rarely acknowledged but promised never to ignore with such foolish abandon again.

“Thank you, Jess.”

His warm breath on the curve of her ear wasn’t what sent a chill running down her spine.  It wasn’t even the extremely rare sound of her real name leaving his lips—but a nickname.  A nickname she’d never bestowed and he’d never used.  A nickname that was nowhere near the realm of “Ashley Williams” or anything that would ever cause him pain and strife again.

“Thank you for bringing my family back together.”  His voice trembled, his arms flexed in their fight to get her nearer, even though every inch of their bodies was already sealed like Gorilla glue, including the toes of their shoes.  “Even if they’re all in at each other’s throats in Westchester… I don’t care.  They’re together.  And King is all but convicted.  I saw the jury’s faces when they were released to deliberations yesterday.  No way in hell he’s getting off.  That’s you.  You did that.”

Jessica’s words were mumbled, lips smashed into his shoulder.  “I told you I would do whatever I had to make it up to you, Leo.  Swear to God, I was
this close
to donning a trench coat, climbing on the roof of this car and holding a stereo playing
In Your Eyes
above my head.”

“Damn, I should’ve held out.”

She laughed into his shoulder.  “I’m sorry.  I’m so… so sorr—”

He suddenly pulled back and sucked her bottom lip fiercely between his own, this time not shy about introducing his tongue to hers, lowering his hands to the small of her back and dipping her backward gently as he deepened the embrace.

He pulled back without moving his head, brushing the tip of his nose against hers.  “I love you.  I always have.  I never stopped for a damn second.  I see the person you are.  I saw you before I even knew your name…” He blushed softly.  “Your real name, I mean…”

Jessica reached up and cupped his cheeks, fighting the tears in her eyes.  “I would do anything for you, Leo.  And I’ll never, ever, hurt you like that again. 
Ever.
  Do you believe that?”

Leo stood tall, bringing her with him.   He searched her eyes, massaging her back in slow circles, and nodded.

Jessica kept her hold on either side of his face, studying his eyes and the way they moved and changed as they traveled along every feature of her face, and eventually, down to her cleavage.

When he gave a devious grin, she burst out laughing.

“Romanovsky, you will never change will you?  I can’t even grovel in peace…” she teased, her laughing picking up when he clutched her waist in his big hands and cuddled his cheek into her ample chest.

“God, I missed you,” he said, his voice muffled from where his lips were crushed into her mammary glands. 

A moment later, he stood tall, shaking her softly from where he had her around the waist. 

“Val said you didn’t know how to stay angry,” Jessica said.  “For a minute, I was really afraid he was wrong.  But I should’ve known.  You’ve always had the kindest, most open heart of any man, hell, any person, I’ve ever met.  So thank you, Leo.  Thank you for being such a good person, from the moment I met you, that you could bend me over and kiss me after everything I’ve done.”

“Oh, I’m bending you over alright,” he whispered.  “From the second I walked away from you… all I’ve thought about is bending you…”

Jessica pressed her finger to his lips, stopping him.  When he remained silent, she pulled her hand away and took a healthy step back. 

His hands fell back down to his sides when she went too far to reach.

She squinted as the clouds parted and revealed the blinding sun, a gust of wind coming through and pushing strands of hair into her eyes.  She shook them out while offering him her hand, straightening her back.

“I’m Jessica,” she said.  “Jessica Borgia.  “I love cars…”

“So much, you let me run you down with mine.” 

She gave him a lazy eyed look.  “Wasn’t the first time I’ve thrown myself in front of a car, and won’t be the last.  I know what to do to absorb the blow, okay?”

He chortled.

Her voice went lower.  “I love cars, and guns.  I love the word fuck… a lot.”  She took a deep breath.  “I’m an undercover agent for the FBI, and a few months ago, that meant everything to me.  Everything.  Enough for me to put on a dress when I live for ripped jeans.  Enough to experiment with color when my real love affair is with black.  Enough for me to lie… to the only man I’ve ever loved…” Her voice broke. 

Leo looked down at her outstretched hand, and then shot her a dubious look from under his eyes before engulfing it in his.  “I’m Leo.”

Jessica nodded. 

“I love dancing, sailing…” His smile eased.  “And you, Wednesday.”

“Never thought I’d miss hearing you call me that.”  She breathed it in, letting it fill her body and ease her heart, her lungs, and every functioning organ in her body before she was unable to bite her tongue for another moment.  “I love you, too, Leo.  I’m so—”

He zeroed in on her, swallowing her up in his arms and flaming her lips in a kiss before she could breathe one more apology.  The kiss went on this time until the apology was no longer lingering on the tip of her tongue.  Until it no longer existed.  Until nothing existed outside of their love and the relief that washed over them like water.

23

Zoey frowned.  It had been almost a week since Val’s last visit with Marcus—since they’d made love—and as the sun blazed into her floor to ceiling bedroom windows, Zoey found herself ripping off her third outfit of the morning.  She hadn’t even had breakfast.  Kicking off the black dress and wedge sandals, she pressed her hands on her hips and gave herself an amazed look in her floor mirror.

“Who the hell are you getting dressed up for?” she demanded, jutting her leg out and wagging her neck at herself.  “Because I know you’re not getting dressed for Valentin Romanovsky.” 

Those words were enough to send her around the bedroom, scoffing at herself as she swept up the various articles of clothing she’d been trying on.  Picking out outfits for Val’s visit tomorrow?  How insane could she get?

She’d told Taj that the trial had made her crazy, made her forget what the Romanovskys had done, made her just as blind now as she had been for ten long years.

As she re-hung her clothes in the walk-in closet, however, she gnawed at her bottom lip.  Her mind and heart were still running in opposite directions.

A week earlier, Jack had put an expert witness on the stand—a brake mechanic.  The mechanic had testified, confirming that, if the brakes on the Cadillac hadn’t been cut the night her parents were killed, Gary would’ve had plenty of time to stop before he struck her parents.

Zoey’s heart burned.

“So if those brakes hadn’t been tampered with by Mitch Gallagher—a man who works for the defendant, Victor King…”  Jack had motioned to Victor King that day. “If those brakes hadn’t been tampered with, there’s no possible chance that Gary Romanovsky would’ve struck Pansy and Marcus Black that night?”

The mechanic had pressed his lips together, shaking his head.  “No possible chance.  Impossible.”

After the expert witness was released, both attorneys made their closing arguments, but Jack had stolen the show.  Still, when the jury took over a week to come back with a verdict, it had driven everyone to bite their nails, wondering if they were going to do the right thing.  Did Victor King still have a chokehold on Manhattan’s elite?  Had he gotten to the jury?  To the judge?

Zoey had certainly had her doubts when the lead juror stood to read the verdict that day.  Then, she heard it.

“We find the defendant, Victor King, guilty on all counts.”

The words should’ve eased Zoey’s shredded heart the moment the juror uttered them.  It should’ve brought tears of joy to her eyes and made the clouds part in her life—which had become perpetually gloomy.

But she didn’t feel freer.  She didn’t feel lighter. The information that had come to light during the proceedings was embedded inside her too deeply, even in her dreams.  Dreams that almost always evolved into nightmares.  She hadn’t had a full night’s sleep since she’d given birth. 

The trial was over, but the agony wasn’t.

Zoey finished hanging her clothes but didn’t leave the closet.  Instead, she ran her fingers gingerly over each article of clothing, realizing that almost every piece had a Romanovsky memory attached.  That family had become such a big part of her life; she couldn’t even escape them in her own closet.

With each day that passed, she wanted to less and less.

She’d once dreaded Val showing up for his hour with Marcus every week.  Now she was getting dressed for it, all the while deluding herself into believing it had nothing to do with him.  But she wouldn’t be able to delude herself much longer.

She wouldn’t be able to delude herself into believing she’d turned down Taj’s kiss the week before for any other reason than that he wasn’t Val.

It was that simple.  He wasn’t Val.

As beautiful a man as Taj was, inside and out, Zoey’s heart still only belonged to another.  She wondered if it always would. 

As she left her bedroom and entered the expansive living room of their beautiful new apartment, she didn’t miss the flutter in her heart when she found Taj standing in front of the towering living room windows, taking in the view while feeding Marcus a bottle.  Marcus watched Taj intently kicking his legs from the comfortable nook of his bicep.

Zoey stopped and appreciated the sight.  Yes, Taj was a gorgeous man.  A gorgeous man who was currently feeding her child a bottle, without having been asked.  Her body responded, because how could it not?

Still.

He wasn’t Val.

“Good morning,” she said, catching Taj’s eyes when he looked over his shoulder at her.  “You could’ve woken me up to do that…”

He adjusted Marcus on his arm, smiling softly.  “Nah, I don’t mind.  I like it.  We’re homies now, aren’t we?”  He looked down at Marcus and raised his eyebrows, laughing when Marcus nearly kicked him in the mouth with his excited legs.   His arms joined in on the party, making the silver bracelet around his chunky wrist sing.

“Thanks for letting me sleep in.” Zoey moved into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of juice.  She snatched an apple from the fruit bowl before making her way to the desk she’d set up in the corner of the living room.  It was right in front of the bay windows, allotting her the best view in the house while she was working.  “I have a few more things to get done.”

“You still want to go to the park today?” Taj asked.

Zoey shot him an obvious look.  “Victor King has been found guilty and put under arrest, and I have a baby who has never felt real sunlight on his face.  We’re definitely going to the park.  We’re free!”

Taj chuckled with a shake of his head.

When his phone vibrated from the middle of the coffee table, Zoey nodded at it, smiling from the corner of her mouth.  “Your ancient flip phone is ringing.”

“Stop talking shit about my phone,” Taj grumbled.

“That thing is an antique.  It should be in a museum.  Every time I look at it, I want to do you a favor and throw it out of a window.  Don’t you know we have phones with touch screens now?  And cameras?  And the internet?”

“Which is why the world is going to hell.  Nobody interacts with each other anymore.  Too busy staring at their godforsaken phones.  The world has gone mad, Zoey— the end is near.”

“You’re just mad ‘cause your phone isn’t interesting enough to stare at,” she said, following him as he leaned down and swept it up.  “Do you want me to take Marcus?”

“Nah,” Taj stood, managing to keep Marcus’ bottle angled on one arm and flip the phone open with another.  “I got him.”

He crossed the room to the balcony and went outside.

Zoey waited until he’d closed the balcony door behind him, wondering why Taj always took his calls in private.  He didn’t get a lot of them, but when he did, he never accepted them in front of her.

Figuring it must be top-secret FBI business, she shrugged, crossing the room to her computer desk, sitting, and opening her email. 

***

“You have a collect call from an inmate at a New York County correctional facility… If you would like to accept this call, press—”

On the balcony, Taj brought the phone from his ear and pressed the number he already knew by heart, the number that made his guts curl into a ball every time he pressed it.  When he looked down at Marcus, who was watching him intently with his fist planted in his mouth, Taj felt better and worse all at once. 

He didn’t even have a moment to say hello before Victor King’s deep, trembling voice, came through the receiver.  Victor whispered one word, the venom in his voice nearly climbing through the phone and bringing Taj to his knees.

“Bail hearing got pushed up,” Victor said.  “I’m out, pending appeal.  Sentencing’s delayed, so it needs to happen now.  Today.”

Taj gritted his teeth.  “I can be out the door right now.”

“One hour,” Victor grumbled.

And then he ended the call.

***

Inside, Zoey couldn’t help a frown as she navigated her inbox.

Then she cursed under her breath.

“What is it?”

Zoey jolted, surprised at the sound of Taj’s voice, meeting his eyes just as he stepped back inside and pushed the balcony door closed.

She motioned to her computer, near tears.  “This new client I took on hates the draft I sent her.  She’s requested a million and one changes!”

Taj took a seat on the edge of the couch next to the desk, chuckling when Zoey put her head in her hands.  “Isn’t that all part of a graphic designer’s job?  I doubt anyone is totally happy with your work on the first try.  Everyone’s tastes are too different.”  His eyebrows pulled.  “Didn’t you mention that you include up to three revisions in your design packages anyway?”

“Yes, but this is more than three revisions.  She wants me to upend the entire draft and basically start from scratch.  This is going to take all day, and probably well into the night.”   Her shoulders slumped, and she looked at him with her lip poked out.  “I don’t think we’re going to make it to the park today.  Man, my baby’s first day of freedom and fresh air.”

Taj’s eyes fell to Marcus, wiggling in his arms, belly full and visibly happy about it.

“Why don’t I take him?” Taj looked at her with a deep breath.

Zoey shifted in her desk chair, and her worried eyes fell to Marcus.  “I don’t know…”

“No, it’ll be great,” Taj insisted.  “We’ll go to the park, and he’ll get some much needed fresh air while the passerby’s ooh and ahh at what a handsome devil he is.”

Zoey chortled.

“And you’ll have peace and quiet to get your work done.  You said it yourself… King is behind bars.  His bail hearing isn’t until this afternoon, and Marcus and I will be back way before then.”

Zoey chewed her bottom lip.  “Well, I suppose it would be okay since he hasn’t even been awarded bail.”  She made a frustrated noise.  “I just wanted to be there the first time somebody gushed all over Marcus because he
is
a handsome devil!”

“He really is,” Taj bounced him.  “So much so that the handsome devil gushing won’t end today.  You’ll have plenty of time to show him off.  Just not today.  No reason for him to suffer, too, just because you have a difficult client.  And look how gorgeous it is outside.  This is New York; God knows what that sky is going to look like tomorrow.  We might go from sunny skies to monsoon season.”

Zoey sighed.  “You’re right.  You’re so right.  I refuse to be one of those selfish mothers who tries to hold her kid back just because, for whatever reason, she’s stuck.”  She waved a hand.  “Go ahead and take him to the park.  Go before I change my mind.  He deserves it.”  She turned her face away dramatically, slapping her hand over her heart with an exaggerated frown.  “Ouch…” she whispered.

Taj stood from the couch with a laugh, clapping a hand on her shoulder.  “The first time is always the hardest.  Soon, a day will come when you can’t wait to unload this devil on someone else.”

Zoey looked up at him with big eyes.  “Never.”

Taj squeezed.  “I’ll get his diaper bag together and then we’re out.  And you…” He pointed to the computer.  “Get your butt to work.”

Zoey brought her shoulders up high and then let them fall.  “Done.”

Taj waited until Zoey’s back was turned and she’d pulled up Photoshop on her computer.  He waited until she got that hilarious wrinkle between her eyebrows, the one that only appeared when the rest of the world had ceased to exist, and she was lost in her work.  He knew hours could go by the moment that little wrinkle appeared, without her even realizing it, and he knew today would be no exception.

As he got Marcus’ diaper bag together, a wrinkle had collected between his own eyebrows.

And the guilt nearly ate him alive.

The wrinkle was still there when he slung the bag over his shoulder and called out to Zoey. 

“We’re out,” he wheezed. 

If Zoey noticed his voice break, she didn’t show it.

She leaped out of her chair and raced across the living room and into the foyer, her feet slapping the marble floors the entire way.

“Mommy loves you!” she cried, coming to a stop and cradling Taj’s arms as she leaned down and littered Marcus’ face with kisses.  “It’s only for a little while, Mommy’s not abandoning you, she just has a client who’s on a mission to make her life miserable!”  Zoey opened her mouth and caught one of the tiny feet Marcus was kicking at her between her teeth, smiling when it promoted him to giggle.

“I love you,” she whispered, again, kissing his forehead one last time before looking up and meeting Taj’s eyes.  She came to her toes and kissed his cheek.

Taj held his breath, feeling the warmth of her kiss lingering on his skin as she pulled back, not blind to the fact that it was the first time that morning his mind had slowed down.  Even if only for a moment.  He wished he could bottle up that kiss she’d just given him and keep it in a syringe, so he could take it straight to his veins whenever he was blasted back to the reality of what he was doing.

“You’re a lifesaver; you know that?” Zoey asked, cupping his cheeks.  “You’re a great man, Taj.  Have fun, okay?”

Taj gasped and opened his mouth, but thankfully, Zoey had already turned away before he could speak, skipping back to her desk.