Overflow: The Carpino Series (3 page)

“Stop and talk to me for a second.  Calm down.”

“Calm down?” I ask, fully turning to him. “Do you think I
wanted this to happen to me today?  For heaven’s sake, I was told to stand with
my hands against a wall, cuffed, patted down, had to wait for almost an hour
because if I didn’t I’d be treated to a different load of shit from you for not
calling before answering questions.  Am I right?” Tony sighed, tipped his head
back and looks to the sky.  I go on while waving my hand around, “See, I’m
right!  I did nothing but deliver a client gift today to be treated to this
crazy ass mess.  So, drop the attitude Tony, next time I’ll call your dad or
Gino, the only reason I didn’t was because it would get straight to my aunts
and I didn’t want to worry them.  They worry about me enough, I don’t need to
add any fuel to their fire.” 

“I’m sorry Gabby, but you run your mouth like a freight
train and always say too much.  I know you’ve never been questioned like that
before, but next time, heaven help me there won’t be one, but if there is a
next time just answer the questions.  I’m ninety nine percent sure you’re clear
here, but you never know. Just leave out the fucking commentary,” he basically
pleads.

“You’re in business law, Tone, mergers and acquisitions. 
Didn’t know you handled so many interrogations on a daily basis,” I had no
trouble being haughty now! 

Tony takes a step closer to me, puts a hand on the side of
my neck and leans down closer to me.  “Look, I’m sorry.  I hated to see you
sitting in that shit storm when I walked into the house,” I close my eyes and
turn my head to the side.  “Gabba Gabba,” he uses his nickname for me softly
and I open my eyes but don’t turn to look at him.  “You good?”

I don’t answer him for a few seconds and his hand gives me a
little shake.  I finally look up at him and whisper on a sigh, “Yeah, I’m
good.”

Tony goes on softly, “I was serious in there.  You do not
see or talk to Megan.  If she tries to call you, you do not answer and let me
know if she tries to come see you.  They don’t put together an operation like
this for no reason, Trevor’s got himself sucked into some serious shit and I
don’t want you anywhere near it.”

“I know, I get it, I get it,” I say, finally giving in. 

“I don’t have any meetings the rest of the day, do you want
me to follow you home and hang out for a while?” he asks, proving to me I’m his
favorite cousin and just maybe his favorite person ever.

“I’m good, Tone, really.  I’ve ruined enough of your day. 
You’ve got a couple hours left.  Go back to work,” I answer.  “But don’t you
dare tell your dad!  He’ll tell Aunt Lizzie, she’ll freak and be all up in my
business stressing me out.”

Tony looks at me as if he’s trying to decide whether or not
to give me what I want.  I’m really not worried about it, he usually lets me
have my way.  “Okay,” he finally gives in.  See?  There’s a reason he’s my
favorite cousin, too.  I smile and give him a hug as he kisses the top of my
head.  “You comin’ to the draft tomorrow night?  Dad’s grilling.”

“I’ll be there, I’m bringing a salad,” I inform him.

“Of course you are,” he says smiling and he rolls his eyes
at me.

“Shut up and go back to work,” I say while giving him a good
hard shove which of course doesn’t move him an inch. 

“See you tomorrow, Gabby. Try not to get arrested,” he says,
teasingly.  It’s my turn to roll my eyes as I climb up in my car to crank it on
and jack up the A/C.  My hair is going to start frizzing if I stand out in his
heat and humidity any longer.

On the drive home I start feeling guilty about leaving
Megan, wondering where Trevor is and what in the hell he’s into.  I really
don’t know why I’m surprised, he’s a jerk but it’s still a surprising situation
to be at your high school friend’s home only to find yourself in the middle of
a federal raid.  I understand why Tony doesn’t want me to have anything to do
with Megan right now but I have a feeling this guilt is going to eat away at
me.

I pull into my neighborhood, curve around and turn down my
dead end street.  My chest tightens a bit like it does every time I have driven
up to my childhood home over the last three years and eight months.  Counting
the weeks and days is a different level of depressing that I’ve made myself
stop doing.  I smile and wave to my neighbor, Martha, who is weeding her front
flower beds.  My neighborhood is developed with mature trees and landscape. 
The homes are somewhere between twenty to twenty-five years old.  My parents
built ours when I was three and it was one of the first in the development so I
have a prime lot.  I am at the end of a cul-de-sac backing to a lake with a
tree line on the other side so I have a lot of privacy in back of my house. 
The lots are wide, spacious and well maintained by homeowners.  There has been
quite a bit of turnover in the past ten years, empty nesters moving out,
younger people making homes for their young families, it’s a popular
neighborhood because of the larger homes and good school district.  I push out
a breath as I pull into one of my three garages.  Hopping down from my car, I
trudge through my yard sale, estate sale and Craigslist treasures that I’ve not
quite found a use for but couldn’t say no to because of their personality.  I’m
sure someday I’ll have just the right project for them.  Opening the door to my
mudroom I’m instantly attacked from the knees down, the tightness in my chest
instantly releases as Mia whines and yelps, communicating how much she missed
me during the last four long hours she had to manage on her own. 

“Hi baby,” I crouch low to give my sweet little Maltese-Shih
Tzu mix scratches and kisses.  “Momma’s had a bad day, but I’m home now.”  Mia,
with her paws on my knees, reaches as far as she can for my face, relaying to
me how happy she is and that she loves me more than anything.  I stand, she
races across the kitchen and great room to the deck door off the back of my
house, showing me she knows the ritual we go through every time I come home.  I
follow much slower and see her dancing circles in eager anticipation of the
outdoors.  She has business to take care of, squirrels to chase and neighbors
to greet, so I hurry myself to the door to give her what she wants.  I turn and
see the mess in my kitchen from my morning coffee and breakfast, and if I’m
honest with myself, a couple dinner dishes from the night before.  I keep a
clean house without a problem, but being tidy on a daily basis is something I’m
still trying to mature into.  The arguments my mother and I used to have over
my bedroom still play in my head.  My dad would say, “Meredith, just shut her
bedroom door so you don’t have to look at it.  I’m sure it’ll be clean again
someday when she takes all her shit and moves out and then you’ll be sad, so
get over it!”  Such stupid arguments, why I couldn’t just pick up my clothes to
make her happy, I will never know.  With these thoughts, I grab the remote,
turn on my stereo hitting shuffle on the playlist and start to tidy my
kitchen. 

My mom completely gutted and refurbished the kitchen about
five years ago.  I lived in an apartment then since I was finishing up graduate
school, but she and I had a grand time renovating.  She would say, “I don’t
need a decorator, I have my Gabby!”  The cabinets are all cherry wood, dark
brown and distressed with just enough black glaze settling into the grooves. 
The kitchen, originally U-shaped, was replaced with a long, deep rectangular
island the length of the room that houses an extra-large copper apron front
sink with five barstools across the front.  Across from the sink is a five
burner Jenn-Air stainless steel range.  To the side are matching stainless
steel double oven and an enormous refrigerator.  It’s awesome!  My mom always
said, “Having a big family means you need the right tools to cook!”

 I kick off my sandals and toss them in the way of my
bedroom thinking I’m just going to have to pick them up later.  I hear
Lifehouse start to croon out
You & Me
and set about my task.  I do
my best to put my day behind me and move on.  I’ve gotten very good at this the
past few years but I’ve also never been handcuffed, patted down and questioned
by federal agents.  Thinking of being patted down brings my thoughts back to
Jude Ortiz.  I haven’t had many second thoughts about men in the past few
years.  I’ve been set up occasionally by friends, asked out a few times on the
rare occasion I put myself in a social situation, but haven’t dated anyone on a
regular basis since James.  James and I met in the last year of our MBA
program.  He was fun, nice and attentive as long as we were doing what he
wanted to do.  He always wanted to be with his friends, watch the game he
wanted to watch, eat where he wanted to eat and so on.  I thought I loved
James, we were together for one year and three months, but my family was not so
crazy about James. 

My family is big.  My family is gregarious.  My family is in
your face if you are their family.  And since I am their family, they love me,
they want to see me, spend time with me and be in my face, they saw James as a
roadblock to all of the above.  James thought my family was overbearing. 
Period.  I did my best to walk that tightrope for one year and three months
because I thought I loved James and he loved me in return.  Then I found out
when times got tough and I needed to focus on me, he proved to be the
self-centered jack wagon that he is and broke up with me.  This sucked, but
other things sucked worse and I got over James-who-I-thought-I-loved way faster
than I ever imagined I could.  End of story.   End of James. 

So thinking of Jude Ortiz with his melty eyes, big strong
hands, broad shoulders and the list goes on, is a surprise even to me.  He has
a great voice and when his lips tipped up at me right before I left it was so
appealing that I can’t help but think what a full on smile would do to me.

Finishing my tasks in the kitchen, I go to the back door and
whistle for Mia.  She comes bounding at me like it was her idea and runs
straight to her treat jar.  “This is number two today, Mia, you only get one
more.  And don’t try and talk me into a fourth, Lanny said you have to cut back
or you’re gonna get chubby.”  Lanny is my vet and my cousin’s husband.  He
loves Mia, but thinks I overindulge her with treats, which is true.  I
overindulge Mia in about everything. 

I walk to my room with Mia on my heels, picking up my
sandals on my way and the phone rings.  Rounding my bed to get to the phone I
look at the caller ID, sigh and hesitantly answer.  “Lilly, what’s up?” I ask.

“Yoga is what’s up!  Five o’clock.  I have reservations for
both of us, it should be a semi private class, she has two others signed up
with us,” she informs me.  “You in?”

“I don’t know,” I say closing my eyes.  “It’s Friday and you
would not believe my day if I gave you a thousand guesses.  I’m beat and was
going to curl up with wine and a movie.” 

“Gabby, get your ass up and going, you can do your wine and
movie afterwards,” she says, planning my night.  “It’s just an hour, you’ll
have the rest of the night to veg.”

I guess I could use some stress release and I’ve been so
busy I’ve barely hit my treadmill all week.  “Fine, I’ll be there,” I agree. 
“I need to swing by the grocery store anyway, I’ll do that on my way home.” 

“Perfect!  See ya in an hour!” she says, way too excited for
yoga.  Hanging up the phone, I head to my closet to change, try to center my
head, or whatever it is we do in yoga that I can never seem to concentrate on
enough to do.  I put all thoughts of Jude Ortiz out of my head, I’ll never see
him again anyway. 

I should call her.  I should really have Mac call her.  I
have enough to do with the case I’ve been working on for seven months going to
shit yesterday.  Reading the transcripts from the wire taps from the few phones
that haven’t been dropped after the round up has been frustrating as hell. 
Harper’s cell pinged from his house minutes before we hit his door and we were
sure he was there.  Since yesterday morning we’ve figured out that he had been
tipped that warrants were being served in his organization and he skipped as
fast as he could, leaving his cell behind, not to mention his wife and kids. 

This should all be enough to monopolize my time, but what’s
about to make my fucking head explode is what I’ve read on the transcripts
regarding Gabrielle Carpino.  She was not exaggerating yesterday when she said
she got a bad vibe from Trevor Harper.  She doesn’t even know the half of it
and from the attention she’s receiving on the wire taps since the raid
yesterday, she needs to take extra precautions in a big way.  Extra precautions
that include a hell of a lot more than carrying around her little S and W 380. 
I’ve seen a lot in my job, but she surprised the hell out of me yesterday when
she threw her mass of long thick blonde hair over her shoulder informing us she
was carrying and had a C and C.  I would never expect a woman in a fancy ass
getup like that to be carrying, especially just going to a friend’s house if
she was working, which leads me to believe she carries most of the time.  So
when I moved in and had her smoking hot body up against the wall and
handcuffed, I did what I’ve never done before, something against policy and
that’s pat down a woman.  We’re supposed to call in a female officer to pat
down another female, but fuck me, I did it before I thought twice.  And fuck me
again if I didn’t feel it in my dick when she shivered under my hands.  Mac had
a few choice words for me later, but after interviewing her, I doubt she’ll do
or say anything unless her attorney cousin makes an issue out of it.  I could
tell that even though Mac knew it was against policy, on some level he knew why
I couldn’t resist.  He might be twenty years my senior, but he’s a man and not
blind by a long shot.  And demanding to call an attorney?  She’s gotta to be
familiar with the process, most people don’t have their attorney on speed dial
unless they are loaded or already in trouble with the law and have needed one
in the past.  Yes, Gabrielle Carpino was full of surprises. 

She’s not tall but not short, with the perfect amount of
curves for her size.    And ever since yesterday feeling her body under my
hands and her looking up at me with her clear blue eyes, scared shitless at
what she found herself in the middle of, I cannot get her out of my fucking
mind.  It pissed me off enough during the interview to learn how Harper’s
comments made her uncomfortable in the past, but I’m fucking infuriated about
what’s been said about her on the wire taps.  We’ve heard talk of retribution
against her now that she knows what little she knows about Harper.  Then she
threw attitude in front of me with her cousin which was even more intriguing,
and if I’m honest with myself, highly entertaining and extremely hot. 

Yes, I need to let her know there’s a threat, tell her as
much as she needs to know, get the hell away from Gabrielle Carpino and my mind
back on my case where it needs to be.  As I turn down her street and look for
the address on the side of the houses, I’m surprised again.   She owns her
home, I learned this last night as I ran her background.  Not only does she own
her home, she owns it outright, there’s no loan or note listed on the property
and this is an upper income neighborhood with big lots and large houses.  She
drives a top of the line Chevy Tahoe that’s only a year and half old, again no
note.  Her background didn’t say she was married, or divorced for that matter
and she’s still pretty young, not quite twenty eight.  How in the hell does an
accountant slash decorator set herself up like this at the age of twenty seven? 
Did we miss something on her? 

I pull into the circle drive and park in front of a huge ass
house complete with an enormous porch on the front with limestone pillars. 
There are a shit load of pots overflowing with flowers and vines that clearly
states a woman lives here and gives a shit.  As I exit my truck and walk up to
her door, I can’t help but think that Gabrielle Carpino is on the take and
somehow we fucking missed it.  Or maybe she’s a damn trust fund brat that walks
through life with a gun in her purse.  I press the doorbell, step back so she
can see me through the sidelight windows and wait.  Moments go by and nothing. 
I try one more time.  All of a sudden I hear a small dog yappin’ and Gabrielle
yell, “Hang on, I’m coming, I’m coming!”

She flings open the door without even a glance at the
sidelight, which pisses me off, and she’s standing there in the wide open
doorway looking like a college girl in a tiny blue Creighton t-shirt tight
across her chest and cut off jean shorts with her long legs that look so good
they should be illegal.  She’s barefoot, her hair is pulled into a mess at the
back of her head and her makeup free face is wearing a shocked as shit look
staring up at me.  Her hair and blue eyes are freaking gorgeous against her
olive skin tone and I find myself staring at her pink lips, full and slightly
parted with her surprised look.  As I stand here wondering what those lips
would feel like on different parts of my body, I finally snap out of it as her
yappin’ dog starts attacking my ankles and whining for attention, which I
ignore.  I look back up to her eyes and wait for her to say something.

“Miss Carpino?” I start, as she still hasn’t uttered a word.

She finally gives her head a small shake and then says on a
breath, “What are you doing here?”

“I need to speak to you about yesterday, can I come in?” I
return.

“Yesterday?” she asks like it was ten fucking years ago and
she can’t remember what I’m talking about.  Now I’m beginning to lose my
patience.

“Yes,” I bite back and start to spell it out for her. 
“Yesterday.  At Trevor Harper’s house.”

“Um,” she looks to the side and then back at me tilting her
head to the side, “this isn’t really a good time.  Can I call you, maybe make
an appointment?  Tony can come with me.  I’m really busy right now, I have a
little bit of a situation I’m trying to deal with.”

I’m not a patient person by nature, but shit, this woman is
seriously trying me and the damn dog at my feet still wants my attention.  I
cross my arms across my chest and say, “You find yourself in a lot of
situations, don’t you?”

Affronted, she pulls her frame up to full height and throws
her attitude at me this time, saying, “No, for your information, I do not find
myself in a lot of situations!  If you are dead set on interrogating me on my
front porch, one of my hot water heaters burst and I have water all over my
basement.  Water tends to be destructive, quickly I might add and I’m trying to
move things around as best I can before someone gets here to help me.  So
although my latest
situation
doesn’t deal with law enforcement, big men
dressed in black with federal search warrants, it does require all of my
attention,
now
.  So if you’ll give me your card please, I’ll call you
and we’ll set up a time.”

I stand here a beat, my arms crossed watching her throw her
attitude at me. Glaring down at her, I say, “You should look out your window
before opening your door, you never know who or what kind of threat it could
be.”

“Excuse me?” she responds, confused by my demand.

Now shocking myself, I answer with a question as I push
through the door, “Where’s your basement?”  The dog following me, Gabrielle
moves out of my way instinctively as I walk into her house.  Still standing
there with the door in her hand staring at me, I repeat, “Gabrielle, basement?”

“What are you doing?” she asks, her voice climbing higher.

“I’m helping you move your stuff.”

“You’re not helping me move my stuff!”

“Yes I am.”

“No!” she repeats.  “I’ve made some calls and am expecting
help soon.  You can just leave.”

“Gabrielle, no offense, but you’re a slip of a woman.  I
doubt you can move shit by yourself.  I’m here, I’m helping.”  Getting tired of
the banter and still wondering why in the hell I’ve just offered to help move
furniture, I search for the way to the basement.  Looking to the right, I see
stairs and make my way around Gabrielle to the staircase.  She’s still hasn’t
moved and is staring at me, so I grin, wink at her and ask, “You comin’?  I
hear water has a way of being destructive, quick like.”

She finally snaps out of her trance and shuts the door as I
head down the stairs, the dog still on my heels.  I hear her following me so I
yell back up at her, “Lock the door, Gabrielle!”  Her advancing stops, I hear
her stomp back up the stairs. 

When she finally makes it back down to the soggy basement, I
look over at her and she quietly says, “Gabby.”

Looking at her, confused, I ask, “What?”

“Gabby, everyone calls me Gabby,” she responds softly. 

I take her in, standing there on soggy carpet in her huge
ass basement.  “Okay, Gabby.  Where in the hell do we start?”

*****

Jude has been in my house for the past two hours making me
nervous as hell and I’m so tired from not sleeping well last night after my
crazy day yesterday.  The combination of the two is making me a wreck.  When I
came down this morning to get some work done in my basement office that I run
my business out of and I stepped off the bottom stair into water, I thought I
was going to throw up.  I’m really not a good homeowner.  I keep telling everyone,
myself included, that I’m going to put the house on the market once I get it
all updated so I can get top dollar.  My entire family just gives me that look
they have perfected over the last few years that is a combination of love and
sorrow, saying something like, “Whatever you want, Gabby.  No hurry, it’s not
going anywhere.”

I’m figuring out this house stuff a little at a time.  It
took me a whole summer to learn how to take care of the yard with the
fertilizing, winterizing, how much to water and that’s with paying the neighbor
boy to mow for me!  Maintaining furnaces, air conditioners, filters, fixing
small things when they break or go screwy has been a learning process to say
the least.  And now I can add hot water heaters to my list.  Did I fail my hot
water heater in some way or did it just kick the bucket on its own and decide
to flood my basement?  I don’t know, but my head is starting to hurt from the
lack of caffeine, as my latest debacle started when I was brewing the first pot
of coffee. 

Jude showing up on my door step this morning was a miracle
and a tragedy.  Seeing him outside my front door made my heart skip a beat and
I was at a loss for words.  He looked better than I remembered him, in a faded
red t-shirt and jeans that fit too well.  His legs, thick and defined through
his jeans, made him seem even bigger and more powerful than the day before in
his police outfit.  I still don’t think he has shaved and his hair is yet again
messy on top, which makes me wonder if this is his normal do instead of helmet
hair.  Either way, the messy look works for him in a big way and I find myself
wanting to run my fingers through it.  But as much as I have enjoyed getting
glimpses of Jude lifting, bending and stretching in my basement to move my
furniture around, I cannot believe he is here because I.  Look.  Like.  Hell! 
I went to bed with my hair wet which is always a scary site the next morning, I
have no makeup on, not to mention the dark circles under my eyes from tossing
and turning all night. 

Tony got here about thirty minutes after Jude.  I called
Tony before Jude showed up and he was at the gym playing basketball.  So two
days in a row I’ve screwed up Tony’s day to have to come to my rescue.  Shortly
after Tony arrived, the first restoration company that popped up on Google
showed up with fans and other whatnots to start drying out my basement.  I’ve
hardly said a word to Jude since Tony got here. 

Now the two of them are standing amongst the hellacious mess
that is now my basement, heads tipped down and talking quietly with the
restoration crew working around them.  Not having the energy to think about
what they’re talking about, I go to my office with Mia faithfully behind me. 
My office was thankfully spared from water since the mechanical room was on the
other side of the basement and the water hadn’t made its way in here yet.  As
Mia turns circles in her dog bed I keep in here for her to sleep on as I work,
I wake up my computer to print off the invoice I came down for originally this
morning and need to get in the mail today.  I look around thinking that I am
grateful I’ve put off redoing the basement and hope that my insurance comes
through in a big way so maybe I can upgrade my carpet, repaint and hopefully
I’ll be able to replace all the baseboards as well.   My next project was going
to be the guest rooms upstairs, but apparently my hot water heater had other
plans for my renovation schedule.  Hearing Jude and Tony’s voices getting
louder, I turn to see them walking through the door to my office. 

“I’m outta here, Gabba,” Tony says. 

“Tony, I’m sorry I ruined your day again, basketball and
well…everything,” I return.

“I know, just another day in the life of Gabby Carpino’s
cousin,” he teases me.  “Just so you know, I plan on sleeping in tomorrow so if
you could ward off any more catastrophes until the afternoon, that would be
good.”

“Bite me, Tone,” I say glaring at him. 

He looks at Jude and says with a grin, “Can you believe
her?  I gave up my Saturday morning basketball game for this shit!”  Then Tony
goes on to slap Jude on the shoulder as he starts to walk out of the room and
says, “Hey man, see ya tonight at six.”