Together Again: Book 3 in the Second Chances series (Crimson Romance) (16 page)

“I appreciate the offer.”

“You haven’t asked for any but I’m going to give you a piece of advice, counselor. When you have something good, hold on to it. Doesn’t come along very often. Nothing was easy about us but we made it work. And, like I’ve said, if Amanda and I could make it happen … ”

“Anyone can. I remember. Thanks, Sam.”

Saturday morning Margo decided if she was going to survive the weekend without Tony, she had to do one of two things: work or clean. She’d cleared her desk to keep from thinking about him all week so that left cleaning.

Lots of upbeat music would help. She put on two Alicia Keys CDs and started a load of laundry. The towels in the bathroom with remnants of Tony’s shaving gel and soap went into the washer along with the sheets and the pillowcase that smelled of his cologne. A shirt he’d left got buried in a drawer so she wouldn’t see it every time she opened the closet.

By the time she finished scrubbing, vacuuming and washing, her stomach was growling. The yogurt and English muffin she’d eaten for breakfast were long gone and she decided an omelet sounded good. But when she opened the refrigerator to get the eggs, she found the leftover marinara sauce Tony’d made, the wine he liked, the cheese he’d picked out for her to try. On the counter was the cereal he ate for breakfast.

Shit
. She was back where she started.

She poured the last of the pot of coffee and called Fiona.

“You still speaking to me?” she asked when her friend answered.

“Of course. Turns out it wasn’t as hard as I expected to fill the news hole. The guy who was next week’s feature had it already to go. I think he’s after my job but right now, I don’t care. I’m off the hook and ready to hear all the juicy details you promised for my big story.”

“With luck, it’ll be in a day or two.” Margo paused. “I suppose you and Mark have plans for tonight.”

There was a long silence. “Mark has plans. I don’t. He’s gone back to Seattle.”

“For the weekend?”

“No, for good.” Before Margo could ask more questions, Fiona said, “It’s a long story. I’m not sure I can go through it right now. But why were you asking about my plans tonight?”

“I’m at loose ends and would like some company. Actually, I need a shoulder to cry on. You available?”

“Men. Honestly. Can’t live without them. Can’t make them behave so you can live with them.” She sighed. “Why don’t you come here? I have a nice bottle of pinot gris and I just put a pan of brownies in the oven. If you don’t come over, I’ll finish off both of them myself and feel awful in the morning. And bring what you need to spend the night.”

Fiona lived in St. Johns, a neighborhood north of downtown Portland, in a one-story, Craftsman-style house, restored to its original beauty by her landlord. Margo loved visiting there. The only drawback was that she usually had to fight Pulitzer, Fiona’s orange marmalade cat, for the leather lounge chair she liked, as well as the office/guest room where she would be sleeping because Pulitzer viewed both as hers.

This time, the cat seemed to know something was wrong because she vacated the chair as soon as Margo walked in and didn’t scratch at her bag when Margo put it on the day bed in the guest room.

Fiona poured each of them a glass of wine, overriding Margo’s objection that it was only four o’clock in the afternoon. They curled up in their respective places in the living room and sipped at the wine.

“Okay,” Fiona said. “Who’s first?”

Margo said, “I’ll go. I have managed to screw up the best relationship I’ve had in years — maybe ever — because it scares me shitless.” She related what had happened before Tony left for Long Beach and they dissected it for a while before Margo said, “Enough. I’ve been wallowing in this for days. Let’s wallow in yours. What happened with Mark?”

“The long and short of it is that the whole time we were together here, he was seeing someone in Seattle. Now, they’re getting married.”

“What? How … ”

“I don’t know if you knew but he went back to Seattle every other weekend. To see his family, he said. He never said what family but I figured he went to see his parents. Turns out, he was visiting his daughter. And her mother.”

“I didn’t even know he’d been married.”

“He was never married. His daughter was born right after he moved to Portland so for almost two years he’s been maintaining two relationships a couple hundred miles apart. He’s marrying the mother of his child, for his daughter’s sake, he says.”

“I guess I’m happy for the little girl but, Jesus, why the hell didn’t he think of that before now?”

“I’m trying to believe I’m better off but I can’t quite get there yet. And I feel used.”

“I’d say you should feel lucky.”

For the rest of the afternoon and on into the evening they went over every detail of their respective love lives ending up with Fiona saying, “Well, all I can say is, the results don’t seem to turn out any different whether you have the right man or the wrong one. You have the right man. I had the wrong one but here we are, spending the weekend with each other and a pan of brownies.” She took another square from the pan. “At least Tony adores you. I’d kill to have someone look at me the way he looks at you.”

“Right now, the way he looks at me could be classified as a lethal weapon.”

They finished the bottle of wine and made a salad for dinner to make up for eating an entire batch of brownies. After promising each other they would be more cheerful the next day, they went to bed early.

Pulitzer woke Margo at seven, so Margo got up and fed her. By the time her hostess came into the kitchen, she had a pot of coffee going and was reading the Sunday paper.

“How about we go out for brunch someplace?” Fiona suggested. “Maybe on the river?”

“I live on the river. How about Kenny and Zuke’s?” Margo suggested. “I haven’t been there in ages.”

They showered, dressed and headed out in Fiona’s car for downtown. After brunch, during which they didn’t discuss their love lives at all, they headed back to Fiona’s. Margo was packing her things so she could go home when her cell phone rang. It was Sam and he was pissed.

“Where the hell are you, counselor? You were supposed to let me know where you were.”

“Sorry, Sam. I forgot.”

“Don’t do it again. I’m up to my ass in alligators and I don’t need to be worrying about you.”

“What’s going on?”

“The kid who beat up Mr. Todd came back and … ”

“Oh, Jesus, did he get hurt again?”

“He’s fine. Mr. Todd saw him from inside his house this time, called 9-1-1 and we picked the kid up. He got bailed out five minutes after we brought him in but not before we confirmed he has Russian gang connections. I discovered you weren’t home when I went to talk to Mr. Todd.”

“I’m at Fiona’s, in St. Johns.”

“Stay there. It’s easier to keep tabs on you there than at the marina.”

After the phone call, Margo emailed Viktor:
“WTF? The cops told me a kid with Russian gang connections was responsible for trying to break into my house — again. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you? After all, we have a deal. Don’t we?”

Several hours later she got a response. While not apologizing, Viktor said he’d take care of the problem. She thanked him, turned off Fiona’s computer and volunteered to make dinner.

Monday morning Margo had a hard time concentrating on her work as she kept checking the time, thinking that in twelve, then ten, then eight hours, she’d be meeting a killer in Blue Lake Park. A phone call from Sam made it worse.

After he went through, one more time, the details of the evening, he added, “Oh, and the kid who beat up Mr. Todd’s not a problem anymore. Drive-by shooting last night.”

“Oh, Jesus. That’s what he meant.”

“That’s what who meant?”

“When I emailed Viktor last night and asked him what the fuck was going on, he promised to take care of it. I had no idea … ” She gulped hard.

“Margo, don’t go all squishy on me here. The kid was on his way to becoming a statistic long before you emailed Viktor. And did you really ask him what the fuck?”

• • •

Margo left work early. She tried to take a nap but that didn’t happen. Music didn’t soothe her. She couldn’t concentrate on a book. She was hungry but didn’t know what she wanted to eat. Finally, she ate a container of yogurt and some toast and lost a couple hours online reading about the troubles of everyplace else in the world on Google News.

At quarter of ten, Tony rang from the security gate and she went up the ramp to join him. Silently they drove the five minutes it took to get to Blue Lake Park.

The only time Margo had been at the park in the evening was for a long-ago summer concert when the place had been crowded with people and alive with music. Now, deserted of any visible human life, Blue Lake was silent and dark.

They parked just outside the barrier that closed off the park at night and walked the rest of the way. A half moon forced dim light through thick branches, casting shadows so inky she expected to leave footprints from walking through them. With no lights anywhere, even with the flashlight beam she swept across the road, it was like moving through an endless, silent tunnel.

Silent until a breeze moved through the branches like a soft hand, touching leaves, caressing needles, moving them around, one tree at a time, disturbing the night air.

As her eyes acclimated to the night, she began to see buildings looming over the grass that tonight looked like the haunts of serial killers or slasher movie villains. The only thing missing was the spooky music she began to hear in her head as soon as the thought occurred it was missing.

Tony walked with her to the edge of the grassy area where the picnic tables were and stopped. “You okay going through with this, Margo?”

She nodded.

“Don’t take any chances. Make the exchange and get the hell away from him. I’ll be right over there, waiting for you.” She could hear worry in his voice. He hesitated for a moment, as if about to say something else — or to grab her and run — before turning and walking toward the picnic tables where Viktor had stipulated he wait.

She watched as Tony and the beam from his flashlight moved away from her. Alone now, without even the sound of his footsteps to keep her company, she began to doubt she’d given him an honest answer. Maybe she wasn’t sure she wanted to do this. Maybe what she wanted to do was run back to her car.

Ahead of her the twists and turns of a kids’ jungle gym emerged from the dark. Behind it was the picnic shelter. No one was visible there or anywhere else.

“Viktor?” she called. “It’s Margo Keyes. I have what you want.” She stopped about thirty yards from the picnic shelter. “Where are you? I want to see you.”

There was no answer other than the trees protesting the breeze that disturbed them. But after the breeze stopped, she thought she could hear the sound of someone breathing. However, no one was visible when she played the light in the direction of the sound.

“I’m going to shine the flashlight over the picnic shelter,” she said as she began to illuminate the picnic tables in front of the shelter.

“Don’t do that, Miss Keyes. Focus your light on the ground.” A man’s voice with a heavy Russian accent came from deep inside the picnic shelter. “And have your friend put his weapon on the table nearest him. I’m sure he has one.”

She turned toward the roadway. “Tony? Did you hear?”

“It’s on the table,” Tony called. She saw him shine his flashlight on the Glock he’d been carrying.

“Keep your light on the weapon, please,” Viktor said. “Now, Miss Keyes, my merchandise. Place it … ”

“First tell me why you killed that boy.”

“You asked me to take care of it. I did. Now, put my merchandise on the table closest to you and illuminate it. When I see it, you’ll get your money.”

She put the flash drive on the picnic table and shone her flashlight on it.

not to play games with me, Miss Keyes,” Viktor said in an irritated voice. “I will give you exactly five seconds to put my merchandise on that table. I don’t care who you are, you cannot get away with this.”

“I
have
put it on the table. That’s what I … ”

“Five, four … ” The sound of his voice was coming closer. “Three … two … ”

He was beside her before she knew he was so close. “You should know better, Miss Keyes.” He grabbed her and shook her so hard she dropped the flashlight.

Before Viktor could do anything else, she heard, “Let her go, you son of a bitch.” Tony lunged at Viktor but the Russian anticipated him and shoved Margo in his direction before taking off. She stumbled in the grass, grabbing at Tony, tripping on his feet, falling, her face smacking the root of a tree, sending ribbons of pain through her nose and around her eyes.

“Are you all right?” Tony knelt beside her, scanning the dark with his light, trying to pick out the fleeing Viktor.

She attempted to stand. “I don’t know. I think … ” She never finished the sentence. Her knees buckled and she went back down onto the grass.

What happened next was a jumble she couldn’t sort out, even later with a lot of effort. Tony barking orders, swearing in Italian and English, pacing. A gurney. An ambulance ride. Pain. Confusion.

The ER visit was clearer. After the doctor had seen her, manipulated her nose and packed it, the nurse cleaned the blood from her face and went to see if they were admitting her for observation.

Sam came in when the nurse left.

“Did you get him?” she asked.

“No, Tony lost him when he was trying to help you. My guys on Marine Drive never saw him. Viktor must have made his way back into the residential neighborhood south of the park. We had patrol cars there but there are a dozen different ways to get out.”

“Shit.” She grasped his arm and tried to pull herself up but a burst of pain fanned out over her face. “Oh, God, that hurts.”

“The nurse’ll be back in a minute. If they’re sure you’re not concussed, you can have a pain med.”

“What’re you doing here, anyway?” Margo said. “Why aren’t you out there looking for Viktor?”