Hard to Stop (11 page)

"Take me there." She grabbed his arm and yanked him down the steps.

"Thought you'd never ask."

"Did you see him? How did he look?" A million questions flitted through her mind. "How long has it been since you left?"

"Before school started this morning, so I imagine it was around seven thirty when she dropped the stuff off. And no, I didn't see him, but I can't imagine why she would bring stuff from your house to someone other than your brother." To her dismay, he was remarkably calm and didn't seem to understand the urgency factor. Nope, he didn't know what she knew about Joey's murder.

"But what if he's gone by now? You should have stood outside and called me." She twisted to look behind her. She couldn't understand why a man with his long legs was moving so slowly. The only explanation was that he was doing it to piss her off.

"I tried, but your phone kept going into voice mail. I figured you were blocking my calls so thought it would be best to wait in front of your place. That way you couldn't ignore me."

She huffed. "That's my police-issue phone. My personal cell—"

"I didn't think we were at that stage in our relationship where you'd give me your personal cell phone number, Detective."

"Don't try to be funny. I'm not in the mood. This is my brother we're talking about."

"There are so many things I could say."

If she were being kind, she might conclude he was trying to distract her, but she wasn't feeling very generous right now, especially when she thought about the three bullets in Joey's chest and the one smack dab in the middle of his forehead. A professional hit. And that terrified her.

"How much further?"

"Just up the block. The building with the construction tape across the front door. But—"

She took off running. She didn't want to listen anymore—she wanted her brother safe and sound. He caught up with her by the second house. "What if he took off after you left?"

"More than likely he moved in after dark. Which means he'd wait until dark to move again."

"Let's hope you're right. But he thinks I'm mad at him." She sucked in a breath. "In reality, I'm scared to death for him." Why was she sharing so much? For all intents and purposes, he was the enemy. He might be playing the nice guy right now, but she knew better than to trust that he didn't have his own agenda going on.

He slowed his stride and slipped his arm across her shoulder as if trying to match her pace to his. It worked. She appreciated the sentiment, even if she never would admit it.

"You ever going to share what that last argument—let's say discussion—with Mick was about? The one that had him running?"

"No." She bit her lip. Doing her job, she had no trouble keeping information from people, but now it felt kind of bitchy, considering his lead about her brother.

"I can respect that. Sometimes family things need to stay in the family."

She glanced his way and wondered about the story behind his words. The detective in her couldn't help but be curious about a past he held so close to the vest. While he might put out one vibe, there was a whole lot more behind his obnoxious demeanor.

"I should go in on my own." She hated to think about the possibility that her brother might be armed, but she should be prepared. "Maybe you could keep an eye on the back in case…" She was unable to finish her thought as emotion clogged her throat.

"No problem." He walked along the side of the building while she approached the front door. Living in a world dominated by machismo, she couldn't help but admire his easy capitulation to her request. And for once, she was grateful.

The windows were boarded, but that didn't mean Mick didn't have a peephole somewhere. He was the brother of an NYPD detective. That meant he usually made decisions with a hint of paranoia, let alone under his current circumstances.

Sporadically throughout her neighborhood, brownstones were being gutted and rehabbed and turned into amazing new homes. She and Mick had talked about doing something spectacular with their home one of these days. He'd even drawn up plans in his architecture class at school. Thinking about the good times didn't help her current situation. It only made her more anxious.

She sucked in a breath and knocked. "Mick, are you in there? It's Gia. I need to see you and know you're okay."

Silence.

Her lips trembled. She had a bad feeling, but that might be attributed to discovering Joey's body. Or it might be fear of what she might find. She brushed back ominous thoughts and knocked again. "Mick, it's me. Let me in. I want to help you."

Max came along from the side of the building, shaking his head. "Nothing. I think we should go inside." He removed a gun from inside his coat.

She closed her eyes and shook her head. "I'm not even going to ask."

"Good." He jiggled the knob and inserted something he'd hidden inside his pocket. She heard a pop. When it didn't budge, he put his shoulder at the right spot to dislodge the lock. "Don't ask about that either."

She rushed inside. "Mick?" Even while she called his name, she knew the place was vacant. Maybe he hadn't been here after all. Maybe Max had misinterpreted what he'd seen. Neither option made her feel better.

Then she spotted the blood, and her knees went weak.

*   *   *

As she started to fall, Max rushed behind her before she hit the floor. Her face went pale as her eyes fluttered closed. He didn't take her for the type to faint easily. Any New York police officer had seen the worst of the worst. She was made from stronger stuff than she'd showed in these last few seconds. The fear etched lines into her face, like she'd aged a couple of years since the last time he'd seen her.

"There's blood." She didn't quite pass out but remained shaky on her feet. "Over there."

He glanced where she'd pointed. Sure as hell looked like blood. "But it might not be Mick's."

"It's recent." She gulped as if she needed help to get the words out.

The blood hadn't soaked into the scraped-bare floorboards as of yet. Instead, the blood was setting on top. He didn't want her to be right for selfish reasons. He wanted to talk to Mick and find out what he knew.

"That still doesn't mean it's his." And maybe he'd convince her of something he wasn't sure he believed himself. But he doubted it. If the roles were reversed and it was a family member of his, he'd assume the worst and be scared to death.

"I'm going to call in the crime scene." She started to punch in numbers, but he grabbed her phone from her. "Are you sure you want to do that? You're already on leave—is that going to complicate matters, you being in an abandoned building?"

Her exasperation at him and at the situation showed in the bright crimson on her cheeks. "I need to know if he's okay."

"We're going to find him ourselves." He touched her bicep and felt the jump of her pulse beneath his fingers. "Surely the two of us can beat some beat cops from Brooklyn. Let me call a friend. I'm sure he knows somebody who can get us a sample and cause a lot less drama than the police."

"What do you and your family do again?"

"My siblings work for a place called The Alliance. They specialize in protection and retrieval. They go in where government types are afraid to go. And do a damn good job of it, even if I say so myself."

"That doesn't explain you."

"Ah, me. Well." He smiled at her and hoped it would lessen the worry on her face. "I taught them everything they know."

"And modest as well." She shook her head. "I don't care if you call in the devil himself. I want a blood type. And I want it now."

Less than a half hour later, they had their answer. "You do know that over a third of the population has blood type O positive?"

She nodded slowly. "Yep, but that doesn't make me feel any better." She bit her bottom lip. "I shouldn't tell you this, but Joey Trattner was found dead in a Dumpster in Manhattan right before I came here."

"Should I know this person?" Max watched her eyes. Most people revealed more than they thought through their eyes. The pupils might grow wide in anticipation or grow smaller as they concentrated. It was one of those physiological things that people had very little control over.

"He's one of the kids who were with Mick the night your friend was killed."

"Holy crap. You're right. You're assuming there's a connection." He started to pace as the nerves inside him ratcheted up. "Who was the third kid? Is he still alive?" Suddenly her fear didn't seem like an overreaction. "Let's think about this logically now that we know Mick was hiding out here and that this may or may not be his blood. For one thing, there's a lot of it, but not enough to kill him. There's no trail, so we know that he either stopped bleeding or managed to stem the flow somehow."

"Other than the fact we didn't find him dead, I'm having a hard time finding the silver lining."

"We know he's smarter than Joey."

"That's not saying much." She managed a weak smile.

He held out his hands. It was clear she was approaching panic stage at this point, despite the fact she was a consummate professional. When family was involved, he could understand why she was tunneling into the crazy zone. He'd been there himself on numerous occasions.

"How did he identify this building as being a place he could hang out? Are there other buildings like this in the area? Maybe ones that have started construction but stopped for one reason or another? Does he have any friends who live outside this general vicinity where he might hang out? Let's face it, the kid is sixteen—he doesn't have a lot of options. Who's the girl I saw bring the stuff to him?"

She closed her eyes and drew in a breath. "It's got to be Gabriella. Her father owns this building. He's waiting on some permits to be approved, the last I heard."

"Does he have other stalled projects?"

"Yes, one a couple of blocks away."

"Then let's start there." He escorted her past the construction tape and out the door. "You never did tell me how they found Joey's body."

"I had a trace done on Mick's phone, and it was found with Joey."

Oh hell. She had more than enough to worry about. But if he worked with her, he could find out some things as well and not be hampered by her lack of sharing. Some relationships were all about a little give and take. And if he happened to do more of the taking, he was fine with that.

Keeping what was going on away from his siblings was going to be the difficult part. The last thing he needed or wanted was for Jake and Sabrina to get mixed up in this vendetta against him. Maybe he could impose on Jennings to ensure they were off on an assignment and out of his hair for the time being.

*   *   *

Gia wasn't sure what she'd accomplished getting hooked up with Max Shaw. He wasn't without skills, but she didn't like having partners, and he was the worst kind. The guy had an agenda. As of yet she hadn't figured out what it was, but sooner or later she would. She had to give him some kudos for being honest about at least some information. His siblings worked for The Alliance. That said volumes about their skill level. Although the place was more mythical than real. If what she'd heard about The Alliance was true, that meant they were more deadly than the Navy SEALs even on their very best day. That meant whatever skills they had, Max had as well. Did she need to know where he got them to get her brother back? Nope. The idea that he could help her get Mick was all she cared about right now. As far as she was concerned, he was a means to an end. And his potential for helping was far better than any friend she had at the NYPD.

"Is this the place?" He pointed to another brownstone in the middle of an exterior renovation but devoid of workmen right now.

"Yes, this is it. Do your magic, and get us in." She pointed toward the door and let him have at it. Partly to observe his technique. Partly to see the set of tools he was using to gain entry. Last time he'd partially blocked it from her view. This time she wanted a clear picture of his expertise. The cop in her was curious while still being annoyed.

With a flick of his wrist he was inside, and she still didn't have a clue. "I'll show you my secrets one of these days, after all this is over, but it's not for common distribution among your cop buddies."

Interesting. He'd answered the question floating around her brain even though she hadn't expressed it. "Understood. Where did you get that stuff?"

"Europe. Specially made tools by a man you wouldn't want to meet up with."

"You're a thief?"

"Nope. It's a long story that maybe I'll tell you about one day. For now, all you have to know is that the three of us are fine, upstanding citizens of the state of New York and have been since we came here. I make a boatload of money on the stock market, but I don't swindle or defraud any of my clients. In fact, I turn away more people than I take on."

There was so much more to his story, and she couldn't even imagine what he'd done in his past life, but somehow she still believed he and his siblings were on the up-and-up. Call her naïve, but that was how she read him. If the real target was Max, whoever was after him might have followed him from when he lived in Europe. Although she supposed it could be a jealous boyfriend or husband of one of the many women he'd flirted with since he'd lived in New York. Certainly his clients were more than happy with him. Which might be interesting fodder for a case at some point, but not when the main objective was to ensure her brother's safety and make sure he didn't get involved with whatever was going down with the Shaw family.

"My brother had to have help getting inside. Maybe Gabriella let him in somehow." She tried to think of a naïve sixteen-year-old boy and couldn't imagine he would know how to break in. He'd gone off track for a while there, but she had to believe he hadn't developed breaking and entering skills along the way.

"If what you say about him is accurate—and before you give me that evil eye, I don't have any reason to believe it's not—I can't imagine he would be able to get in without a key. This place is locked good and tight. Even I had a bit of trouble getting through the lock." He had the audacity to smile then, and she knew why lesser women might find his type intriguing.