Tough Enough (Tough Love Book 3)

by Trixie More

  Marley seemed to have found what she was looking for. She plunked a jar of pickles on the table.

  “What’s that for?”

  Diffidently, Marley unscrewed the lid and fished out a giant, sage green gherkin. “Wha? I wanted a pickle. Sue me.”

  Allison laughed.

  “An’ that husband of yours is not macho. Derrick is a pussycat.”

  Sophia had to swallow the gasping choke of surprised laughter.

  “You’re just sorry you didn’t see him first,” Allison returned. The knife she wielded sliced the skin of three onions, halved them each with a thunk, and began flashing through them, diced onions scattering on the cutting board.

  Marley, having returned the pickle jar, slammed the heavy door with a thunk. “I did see him first.” At least she was smart enough to stop there.

  “So, do you?” Sophia couldn’t believe her own ears as she heard herself bring the subject back to Doug Lloyd for the third time that night.

  Marley leaned against the counter by the sink, crunching on the dill pickle. “Hmm, yes. Even with the kidnap thing. He used to come to Mastrelo’s you know, back when it was the restaurant before they made it to just a bar.” Marley took another bite. “He was a rich guy, you know, they all ate here back then. He would get a nice table, talk business, have a little wine. He always left a nice tip.” She chewed thoughtfully, ignoring the ugly scowl on Allison’s face. “He was very strong, you could tell. In his mind. In his body. I dunno why he did that thing.” She turned to the sink and washed her hands. “Why you ask anyway? You got Ben and he’s macho enough for anyone.”

  Sophia, for her part, kept her eyes on her work, even though she kind of thought her face was flushed while she struggled to find an answer.

  Idiot, she thought.

  The Knicks were good for nothing this year if you asked Ben. He finished the last of his beer and got up to toss the can in the recycle. The remains of dinner sat on the stove. After keeping it warm until seven, he’d eaten by himself, watching the game. Now he had to decide if he should leave it out for her or just pack it all into the refrigerator.

  “Maybe I should get a dog,” he said to no one. The fact was, he was lonely. He’d always lived with someone. First, at home with his parents and George, and then with Derrick. Because he worked with Derrick on the same raising gang, if he’d worked overtime, so did Derrick. So the two of them ate together most nights. On the nights Derrick had gone to Mastrelo’s for dinner, Ben already knew about it and got takeout. He’d never once thought about how much living with Derrick had set his expectations for cohabitation.

  Sophia was nothing like Derrick. Of course, she was a gorgeous woman, but beyond that, she didn’t show up for dinner, didn’t let him know where she would be, and in general, acted more like a college student than an iron worker. Which made sense, but didn’t make Ben feel any better when he was waiting for her to show up for a meal.

  He decided to pack the food away, scraped his leftovers into the garbage, and shoved the dishes into the dishwasher. He wiped down the counters and, for the umpteenth time since Sophia had moved in, wondered how to kill the last hour before bed.

  He was almost deciding to go downstairs and see what Derrick was up to; he was that lonely when he was saved by the sound of the key in the lock. That’s how he wound up in the embarrassing position of standing all alone in the middle of the apartment, TV off, kitchen dark, looking just as at odds with himself as he was. A part of him wanted to sprint for the bedroom and turn on the TV in there before she came in and found him looking this pathetic. He was just man enough not to do it.

  Sophia stepped inside, her hair in a braid, her pale trench coat belted tightly. Ben willed himself not to ask her where she’d been. He might cook for her, yearn for her and wait for her, but he refused to turn into that nagging bitter person he felt building inside himself.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “Hey, yourself.” He tried to find a smile, but all he managed was a small grimace. He cleared his throat. “Supper’s in the fridge. I was heading in to watch TV.”

  “Okay.” She took off her coat and hung it in the closet. “I ate at Allison’s.” She turned and walked up to him, smiling slightly. His stupid heart beat faster, and he resented it. Sophia stopped before him, resting her palms on his shoulders; he put his hands on her waist as if this was normal. She was looking him right in the eyes. What was going on here?

  “What’s up?” he asked.

  “I’ve been thinking about you,” she said, and Ben was surprised to find that didn’t mean as much to him as it used to.

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. I’m going to take a shower.” She searched his eyes. “Will you be up when I get out?”

  How badly did he want to say no? How badly did he just want to get into the shower with her?

  He put his arm around her back, bent his knees, and lifted her in his arms, never looking away from her. “No.”

  She let him carry her into the shower and damn him, his heart twisted. A man divided, he felt as if this might be the last time he loved her, not because she was leaving but because he was.

  Chapter 6

  In the dark of their bedroom, Sophia moved Ben’s arm off her shoulder, and he turned in his sleep. She padded in her bare feet to the kitchen. He’d been different tonight, and it made her wonder. He’d carried her to the shower, loved her under the hot water, shared the soap and dried her off like he used to, but there was none of the usual chatter she associated with him. He wasn’t sullen and angry either. The Ben she’d been with tonight was a new creature, keeping his thoughts to himself. Sophia found she liked it. Even though she’d been more receptive to him tonight than she’d been in months, she still found herself awake and thinking. Thinking about what could be on the note that Doug Lloyd threw at her this afternoon. So she padded to the kitchen to get it.

  The envelope was crumpled at the bottom of her bag. It was nestled below the tan folder of the pictures she’d shown to Deb.

  Tonight in the shower, it had occurred to Sophia that this might be the last night of Ben’s life when he still thought his brother was alive. Tomorrow, in the light of day, she’d have to tell him the texts to Debra had stopped long ago. Who would explain to his parents? She dug through her purse until she found her cell phone, turned it over in her palm and pressed the home button. She touched the little red icon and saw her brother’s name. One tap of her finger and a chain of texts appeared. Emojis, little bits of words between them. If she’d never changed phones, their conversation would extend all the way back to her girlhood. She scrolled through some stickers and found a puppy with a big heart. She tapped it and sent it to Derrick. If Allison was aware of Sophia’s silly texts, she’d never said anything. Sophia sighed. Her brother was sound asleep, she was sure, so she opened the envelope, unfolded the note and smoothed the paper.

  The document looked like a printed page of notes. At the top, written in pen, was “D. Lloyd—201-582-1944”. She doubted it was his social security number, so it must be his phone. She continued to read.

  - Investment bitcoin - Feb 2019 $2,000,000 @3800

  - March - bitcoin hits 4800

  - 3/15/2019 additional $2,000,000

  - May bitcoin hits 6800

  - July, bitcoin hits 11,000,

  August Colton Gerrimon dies

  She turned the paper over. McDonald, Nuri, Camisa were scribbled on the back in pencil. That was it. It was enough. The name Camisa carried a lot of information, none of it good. She searched on the date. Then she searched for Colton Gerrimon and sucked in a breath.

  Cryptocurrency Firm loses $154 Million.

  CEO dead with only cold wallet password.

  “No freakin’ way,” she muttered. She spent the next hour following the story through the twists and turns. The company had continued to manage the limited half million it had in hot wallets, waiting for deposits to flow in before paying on withdrawals. They had delayed informing the public
for two months, finally issuing the first statement on September 25th. There were rumors that the CEO’s death was faked, accusations of fraud, each one as outlandish as the idea that the only person who knew the password to the storage device that held one hundred and fifty-four million in multiple cryptocurrencies was dead. This is what Doug Lloyd wanted her help with? Who were these other people?

  The numbers caught her attention, and she did the math.

  He lost eleven million in this, she thought. Hard on the heels of that thought, Who cares?

  It was intriguing, and if it had been anyone else asking for her help, she’d be jumping up and calling Jacob. This wasn’t just anyone. This was Lloyd, the man who had kidnapped Allison’s best friend. Kidnapper and..., Sophia stopped the thought. Her mind finished it lamely. Worse.

  She for sure didn’t intend to help this monster. He was a perp, an unsub, a—

  Just say it, she told herself.

  “A rapist,” she whispered.

  “Who’s a rapist?” The voice startled her and Sophia gave a little shriek, wadding up the paper and tossing it into her purse like it was on fire. Ben stood behind her, his cheek creased from deep sleep, hair sticking up like baby chick feathers.

  “Perp in a case they’re working at the Bronx. Monica asked me to review her notes.” The lie came out fast and easy.

  “You crumpled her notes?” He looked sleepy and confused.

  “No, those were mine and they’re worthless. Why are you up?”

  “Tha’s wha I was askin’ you,” he mumbled and wandered into the kitchen, chugged some milk right from the gallon, his obliques delineated as he lifted the gallon high. He was a gorgeous man, kind underneath all his bluster and he waited on her hand and foot. Tonight he’d been a gentle and attentive lover. He wanted to marry and start a family, and she was going to leave him.

  The thought settled in her mind and she found that she wasn’t startled to think it. She was leaving, just as soon as she got the nerve to break his heart. At the thought, her eyes dampened. Ben’s heart. How could she leave him when he was about to learn that the texts, his only hope his brother was alive, were nothing but lies?

  Sophia moved almost without intention, coming behind this very good man, wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned her cheek against his back. He settled one hand on her forearm and gave it a pat while he put the milk away.

  “I know,” he said. “I know.”

  Her heart stuttered. What did he know?

  “It’ll be alright, Soph,” he said and turned in her arms, giving her a small kiss on the cheek. “Come on back to bed.”

  He laced their fingers and led her down the hallway, giving no indication if the words were just to soothe her or if he really did know one of her many, many secrets.

  “Dumpster diving for evidence is for the boys in blue,” Jacob announced, and Sophia felt herself startle for the second time since midnight.

  In the end, she hadn’t said anything to Ben about his brother, and she’d let him head out to work before her, hiding in the shower in a veil of lavender-scented mist. Coward, she thought. In so many ways.

  Now, Jacob was standing behind her with both of their coats in his hands. Sophia recovered her poise and continued smoothing Lloyd’s crumpled message. She slipped it into a large brown envelope and folded the top closed, spreading the silver tabs. After labeling the corner with the date, Sophia slid it into her top desk drawer. She glanced over at her partner and mentor, picking up the thread of his teasing.

  “I didn’t pull that out of the trash. Not that it’s anything to you,” she said with a smile, tipping her head to the side, keeping the challenge light. Men. They either put you on a pedestal, or they wanted to control everything you did. Either way, you wound up a child and Sophia was old enough now to know which type Jacob was.

  “Ready for lunch?” She took her coat without waiting for an answer. When Jacob followed her, she resisted the urge to say “good boy.”

  “So, what was that?” He persisted. Sophia had to admit, he’d be a damn poor prosecutor if he wasn’t determined.

  “Probably nothing, just some stuff I wanted to double-check before I file it and forget it.”

  “Anything interesting?” Jacob held the big glass door to the street open, and Sophia passed through. Outside, the breeze was brisk, and the sun was shining. They headed north to the small luncheonette they both liked.

  “Maybe. Do you know anything about that cybercurrency company that lost money when their CEO died?”

  “You mean, the one where the man died with the only password?”

  “Yeah.”

  Jacob’s mouth stretched wider, corners turned down. He blinked and then gave a negative shake of his head. “Nah. Just what’s in the paper. He died in the Bahamas, right?”

  “Yeah. It just blew my mind is all.”

  “Well, yeah. I guess that company’s bankrupt.”

  “Did you know the business was domiciled in New York?”

  “City?”

  “State.” Sophia opened the door to the diner, Jacob following.

  “Huh.”

  Why wasn’t he interested in the fact they might have some jurisdiction? She almost told Jacob she was thinking of checking with the coroner in the Bahamas on the cause of death, but something held her back, probably not wanting to look foolish to a man who already thought her in need of oversight. That and the fact that Jacob seemed odd, almost disinterested, and if there was one thing that Jacob was not, it was indifferent.

  “So d’ya know what you want to order?” Sophia asked instead. They both slid into a booth and ordered their usuals.

  The talk turned to other things, current cases and departmental gossip. By the time they returned to the office, the day had become cloudy.

  “I thought it was supposed to be sunny,” Sophia said as she hung up her coat. Jacob shrugged, both in answer and in removing his jacket, and Sophia headed off down the hall to the ladies’ room.

  She let herself ponder the name, Camisa. The surname was renowned in the world of organized crime. Marco Camisa was an older crime boss who headquartered himself in New Jersey. His operations straddled the Hudson and were more in line with old-school loan sharking, drugs, racketeering and gambling. He was more likely to be associated with the kind of crime George Connelly had been a victim of than any cybercrime. In fact, her research into George’s loans had Camisa on her short list of suspects.

  As she returned to her work area, her head was bowed, and so she didn’t see Jacob at first. As she neared, she realized he had her desk drawer open and whatever he was doing, he was doing it quickly.

  “What are you looking for?”

  It was Jacob’s turn to startle. “Oh, Um, I...” he paused and then gave her his most charming smile. “I wish I could say I just wanted to borrow a pen, but the truth is, I wanted to get a look at that file.”

  “You’re going through my things to get something you saw me put away? On purpose?” She couldn’t believe it.

  Jacob looked down, maybe humbled, maybe playing for time. “I can’t say that I’m in the drawer accidentally, can I?”

  Sophia blinked at him. “I meant, something I’ve purposely put out of sight.”

  Jacob had the envelope in his hands now. He handed it to her. “I saw the name Camisa on it before you put it away,” he said as if that explained everything.

  “So why didn’t you just ask me about it?”

  “I did, and you didn’t seem to want to talk about it.”

  Sophia shook her head, shoving the envelope back in her drawer.

  “Don’t ever do that again,” she said, feeling off. He was her superior, and he could have just ordered her to show it to him. On the other hand, she wanted to let him know he couldn’t just walk all over her. She turned her back on her desk and folded her arms over her chest. She had to bite her tongue to keep from giving him the chance to ask her about it.

  “That’s it? You’re not gonna tell me?�
�� His face was open, curiosity evident in his eyes.

  “No, I’m not.” She held her ground.

  “I could just order you to step back and have HR go through the drawer. Would that work better for you?” Jacob’s face was controlled, his eyes cold.

  “Fine,” she breathed. What could she tell him? Then, she knew. “They’re notes about the password thing, but also notes from one of my cases from my previous job. A bodega stick up. I...” Sophia cast her eyes down, hoping she appeared to feel foolish. “I didn’t want you to know I was following up on such a minor case. It doesn’t align with what we’re doing here.”

  Jacob looked like he wanted to ask her something else, but he shut his mouth and just nodded. “I’ll need the files on the case we’re actually working on by the end of the day.” He walked away.

  Despite the fact she caught him in her desk and he was totally in the wrong, the way he’d said that last thing stung a bit, as if Sophia was behind on her work.

  Jerk, she thought. He just said that so he could feel like he’s the boss and not a sneak.

  Still, she did wonder if he’d seen the other names on the page. If he had, he knew she was lying to him. McDonald and Nuri weren’t the names of any bodega robbing gangs. Not by a long shot.

  When she arrived home, the apartment was quiet. It would be a few hours before Ben arrived. Curling up on the couch with her laptop, she began to search for the man with the hairy arms, looking at photo after photo of men associated with loan sharking and gambling in the metro area. Eventually, she came upon Marco Camisa Senior. Marco Camisa Junior also came up. He had a broad face, small eyes, basically looking like an aging high school jock, muscle turning soft. His father had a thinner build, silver hair combed back from his face, a cross between a fifties wise guy and an aging rocker. His deeply tanned, deeply lined face had a charisma to it that his son would never match.

  Tired of looking at mugshots, she took a break, looking up the Camisa father and son online, scrutinizing the photos online, looking at their wives, girlfriends, known associates. When she got up for more coffee, she dug the envelope that Doug had given her out of her bag. Returning to the couch, she started looking up Colton Gerrimon. It took a while, but she was able to get the first names that she thought went with Nuri and MacDonald. Both men had given interviews crowing about the automated investing platform that Gerrimon had created. Another twenty minutes of work yielded nothing else, so she put her notes down and went back to looking up the Camisa family.