Tough Enough (Tough Love Book 3)

by Trixie More

  Tommy shook his head. “I’m going to discount that albatross of a condo he has and get a buyer for it. Do me a favor. You pick him up this time.”

  The sounds of William’s protests were still coming out of the speaker when Tommy disconnected. The phone rang in his hand immediately. The number was a bad sign. He sank onto a chair, looking out at the office space renters. Every now and then, he felt one of them looking at him through the glass. How the hell had Doug worked in here?

  Tommy swiped at the ringing phone. He didn’t even get a chance to say hello.

  “Kretlow. I guess Lloyd’s got a second strike. If you’ve got anything on him, now’s the time. Three strikes and they’ll throw away the key.” Marco Junior sounded positively gleeful. The video of Doug fuckin’ the living daylights out of Ed Walker crossed Tommy’s mind.

  “What do you want, Marco?”

  “What any partner wants,” he replied. “To make sure you see an opportunity when it smacks you in the face with its dick.” Marco laughed.

  Tommy balled his fist on his thigh. Homophobic murdering bastard.

  “You with me, Kretlow?”

  No, Tommy thought. Instead, he said, “Get over yourself.”

  “Hey,” Marco said. His voice was no longer jovial. “Lloyd’s been arrested for murder. It’s in everybody’s best interest that he stay in jail. That means, no bail. That means...”

  “I can’t stop him from making bail. He owns a multi-million dollar condo he can use as collateral.”

  “Well, you better make damn sure he’s going down for this murder. After all, Doug didn’t kill Gerrimon. You, however, well, it’s just not that clear. I mean, if anyone were to find Colton’s laptop with your fingerprints on it, well, then we’d have some evidence.”

  “Look, Marco, just try that. I think it’d be great if everyone got a good look at Colton’s laptop and whatever transactions he made right there at the end. I lost money in this too, you know.”

  “You know,” Marco said. “There’s no telling what shape the hard drive would be in.”

  Fear bulldozed a swath of ice down Tommy’s back. What was Marco saying? Surely he wouldn’t risk himself by trying to set Tommy up. Would he?

  Marco laughed abruptly. “Got ya thinkin’, little buddy, don’t I? Just make sure nobody thinks of a way to get Doug to go free.”

  “That’s him.”

  Sophia wanted to cry.

  “Deb, you’re sure?”

  “Yes.”

  For the second time, Sophia had the bodega photos laid out on the counter in Deb’s kitchen. George was confirmed dead, so she was trying again.

  “Why didn’t you tell me this before?” Sophia knew why but she couldn’t stop the words.

  Deb just looked at her and frowned. “The better question is why in the hell am I telling you now? You left Ben. For a convict.”

  “Because I’m relentless, and you’re tired?” Sophia offered.

  “You know, Sophia, that might be the first time you’ve admitted you’re not as nice as you pretend to be.” Deb turned her back on Sophia, opening the refrigerator and getting out a beer.

  “You want one?”

  “No, thanks.”

  “Good. ‘Cause I’m not feeling the love today, Sophia.”

  Sophia ignored the jab and sat at the table. After all, she knew she wasn’t all that nice. “So tell me about him.”

  Deb joined her, the snap of the beer top sharp and crisp. “I saw him twice. Once, at the shop. I remember him because he left on foot. There were only two cars in the bays, and I knew who owned them. One was George’s dad’s truck. The other belonged to this little old lady that had been a customer at the garage since before we were married. Mary Ellen Vario. She always had Buicks until they went under. She’d had to switch to Chevy and it practically killed her.” Deb smiled softly, lost in memory. “You know, George loved that garage. It was all he’d ever wanted. To be his own boss, go to work every day, fix cars, talk to his customers, shoot the breeze. Sometimes I’d stop by at lunchtime, and there would be five or six old boys sitting around, bullshitting while George worked.” Her smile turned sad, her eyes unfocused. “It made me feel so good. Knowing if something happened to him, someone would be around. I used to worry...” Deb’s voice broke. “I used to worry he’d get hurt, cut, or have a car fall. I never thought...”

  Sophia moved next to Deb and wrapped her arms around the small woman’s shoulders. “There was nothing you could have done, Deb. He wanted you safe. He loved you.”

  Deb reached up and rubbed Sophia’s forearm, leaned her head into Sophia’s shoulder. “I know you tried with Ben, Soph,” she said. “Anyway, that guy in the picture was there one day. I could hear George’s voice as I walked up, but I didn’t know what he was saying. When he saw me, he shut up. That right there was strange and then the guy walked out and not one car there was his, and he didn’t have a car to drive away. I mean, we live in the city. People don’t drive unless they have to, right? I didn’t think anything of it.”

  Sophia sat back. “When was the second time?”

  “Two days before they beat him.”

  “Two days before Derrick found George in the garage?”

  “Yes. That bastard was standing on the sidewalk out there, looking down our driveway at our backyard.”

  “Was George home?”

  “No. The kids were playing out there, and it freaked me out.”

  “Debra! Why didn’t you tell anyone this?”

  “I told George, and he said not to worry. After they beat him like that? We agreed we needed to split up and I needed to leave.”

  “Why don’t you just tell me what you know?”

  Debra nodded and sat forward, her hands cupping her beer.

  “Okay. Well, you know, George didn’t tell me anything about it until after that day he was beat-up bad. So anyway, by then, he was behind on the loan and owed three times what he’d borrowed. They came to the garage and worked him over. They told him if they had to come back again, the next time it wouldn’t go so easy. Maybe next time,” Debra stopped. “Maybe next time they might break his legs, and if they had to come back a third time, they’d be stopping by the house.” She took a long pull at her beer.

  “So, we agreed. There wasn’t going to be a next time. So George left. But then they left me a note under the wiper of my car when I was at work. You know, I worked at the same school where our kids went. So they knew where we lived, where I worked, where the kids went to school. That’s the day I decided to take the kids and leave. It took me two days to figure out a plan. I quit the school and figured out where we would go. I had to get another phone and so did George so that we could talk. I packed the kids in the car and went to Canada. I have a friend from college who lives in Toronto. George stayed here to see if he could figure out who they were, figure out how to get us squared away.”

  “What happened next?”

  “It wasn’t that long before they left a note in Ben’s work bag and threw the bottles of gasoline through Ben and Derrick’s windows. And then Derrick and George’s folks paid them off.”

  “Derry and Ben’s parents?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Not Allison?”

  “She put in almost half. George’s parents put up a second mortgage on their house and Derrick put in the rest.”

  Now Deb’s nose was red, her eyes watery. “I’ll never be able to pay them back. And George died anyway.”

  “I don’t understand. Was George alive when Ben gave them the money?”

  “Yeah, I got texts from George for about six months. Before Ben and Derrick decided to pay them off, George was going to wait a bit, travel west, come up to Canada through Michigan and then join us. We were just going to start over. We thought in a couple of years, we could let someone know, maybe George’s folks could come and visit the kids. We’d be together and safe. Just have Ben sell the house and the garage. Send the money somehow. But then Ben and Derrick decided to pay
off the debt. George was watching this house in New Jersey where that guy in the picture lived. The day Ben paid off the debt, George was watching.”

  “He was watching when Ben gave them the bag of money?” She couldn’t believe her ears. That day, Sophia had followed Ben to the drop off and hidden herself. She had seen the whole thing too. But she hadn’t seen George.

  “Did he see me there?”

  “You?”

  “Yeah. I followed Ben.”

  Deb gawked at her. “You followed Ben? You saw the house? Saw him give the money to them?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Does Ben know?”

  Sophia winced. “Yeah. He wasn’t happy.”

  Deb shook her head. “I bet.”

  “So George saw the drop off. Then what?”

  “Then he didn’t want to come to Canada. He wanted to find out what happened to the money, who these people were. It bothered him that his family had to pay for his mistake.”

  A pit was opening up in Sophia’s stomach. Her thoughts must have showed on her face because Deb started nodding her head.

  “I know. I don’t, I can’t. I mean—them paying that debt for us was the worst thing that could have happened. If not for that, George...”

  “Oh no.”

  “He stayed because of that, and I can’t ever tell Ben or his parents. It’s eating me alive.” Debra laid her head on the table. Sophia was in shock. She’d always thought it was wrong to pay off the loan sharks, but she never thought that paying them got George killed. She’d always kinda thought George was dead before they paid the money. But this? This was ten times worse.

  “George was texting me every day—he was following the guys who lived in this house whenever he thought he could get away with it. He wanted so bad to find some kind of evidence that would get them arrested and let us just come back to the Bronx, back to his family. He felt so obligated. He was trying so hard to find a way to redeem himself. I don’t think most people who knew George knew how much he cared about that, about being good.” Deb looked at Sophia and the expression on her face was anguish.

  That right there, Sophia thought. Whatever makes her love him that much, that’s the thing I wasn’t built with.

  “So when’s the last time you heard from him?”

  “A long time. He was following these guys and he’d figured out they were connected to somebody who lived near Caldwell. You know, it’s an upscale area. He was trying to figure out who owned this one house he followed them too. That’s the last I heard from him. I think, I think he got caught, you know by them. I think they killed him.”

  “Do you have the last text you got from him?”

  “I have all of them. I’ve got a track phone that I keep charged all the time. I’m afraid it will die and I lose...” She stopped speaking.

  “Can I see the phone?”

  Deb got up and Sophia followed her up to her room. The phone was in her bedside drawer. She showed Sophia the texts and Sophia tried not to read the contents as she scanned the dates. Still, the words leaped out at her. Love. Miss You. Emojis that were silly and sweet. Nothing she would have expected from either of them. She looked at the most recent text. It had been sent over a year ago. Seventeen months to be exact. She looked up. Deb’s hair was too short to hide her face, and this time, the strain showed as clearly as if it had been written there in marker.

  “Seventeen months?” Sophia whispered.

  Deb nodded and turned away.

  “My God.” Her first thought was that Deb had held that information, unshared, for all those months. If anyone could attest to the pain of holding a piece of yourself apart, keeping dark secrets with no relief, it was Sophia. She knew only too well what it was to withhold yourself from everyone you loved. Me too. All the connotations of the slogan came along with the thought, and her mind turned to Doug Lloyd. He might be a hundred horrible things, but one thing he was not—he was not the person who murdered George Connelly because when George died, Doug had been in prison. Whatever was she going to do with that information?

  Mastrelo’s had shutters across the bottom half of their windows, so diners seated near the glass could decide if they wanted to be seen. Tonight they were shut, so Ben had to go inside not knowing if Sophia was behind the bar. He gave the door a yank. It was his lucky night because the Aussie was there.

  Rounding the half wall into the game room, the first person he saw was Marley. She turned as he approached, looking over one bare shoulder, her shirt hanging low on her arm. She had a pool cue in her hands, thick, black hair swung over her smooth olive shoulder and her eyes sparkled when she caught sight of him. The long dimple on her face deepened as she smiled brightly at him.

  “You! Come an’ play. You can be Allison’s partner. Derrick and I are wiping the table with her.” Marley swung her hair, her hips, and the cue as she leaned over, her round butt swaying as she stroked the cue back and forth over her finger.

  “Over here,” Derrick called, and Ben averted his eyes. He’d just broke up with Derrick’s sister, it wouldn’t do to be staring at Marley’s ass in front of him.

  He didn’t bother to try to give Allison a hug.

  “Hey, chef. I didn’t think Derrick beat you at anything,” Ben said, leaning next to her.

  Allison smirked and crossed her ankles, one black work boot twitching as she waited.

  “Oh, she lets me win a couple things,” Derrick said, watching the balls roll everywhere but into a pocket.

  “I thought you said you were wiping the table with Allison,” Ben said to Marley.

  “We’re not?” Marley looked at him, a tiny furrow on her brow. “We’re winning, right?”

  She was about as adorable as a woman could be. “Not a single ball went in, Marley,” he said.

  She shrugged with exaggeration and gave that sideways glance of hers over her shoulder. It was as if she was saying, I messed that up, but you and I both know, I’m so sexy, it doesn’t matter.

  She had that right. Marley was hotter than August, so Ben looked away. Not before he saw a small look of hurt on her pretty Costa Rican face.

  “Gimme a cue, Allie,” Ben said.

  The stick was thrust at him, and then he was focused on the game. It felt good not to think for a minute.

  “They picked up Doug Lloyd for George’s murder,” Derrick said. Ben scratched.

  “Who?” Ben put the cue ball at the back end of the table and stood back. Derrick took his sweet time lining up his shot. Surely, his friend hadn’t just used his brother’s death to beat him at pool.

  “Bastard who kidnapped Dottie.” Allison said the words so forcefully, Ben thought she might be able to spit nails. He guessed it made sense; Dorothy and Allison were tight.

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” Ben said. “They arrested him? Today?”

  “Yesterday,” said Derrick.

  “How’d you know?”

  “Soph,” the big man said. “Text.”

  God knew Sophia texted her brother all the time. She used to text Ben too. For a moment, Ben felt jealous of Derrick. His friend was married, had found his soul mate in the sharp-tongued Allison and he still got texts all the time from his sister. Now Derrick was playing pool with Marley. His friend knew more about George than Ben did. His gut twisted.

  Allison took her shot with Derrick leaning over her to help. Allison laughed. Marley came and sat on a high stool, her long legs catching Ben’s eye. What kind of brother was he? He should be mourning George, not mooning over Marley.

  “Nice to see you out of that house,” Marley said to him.

  He searched his mind for something to say. “How come you’re out tonight?” For the second time that night, she looked hurt. Ben wanted to brain himself with the cue hard enough to put himself out of his misery.

  “Why can’t I be out?”

  “Don’t you have to worry about, about...” He couldn’t remember her little girl’s name.

  “Who?” Now she was standing, both fi
sts planted on her slender hips, her dark eyes flashing, color rising on her cheeks. God, she was nothing like Sophia. Marley was...wild.

  “Um, your...”

  “Karito?” Marley got up in his face and her anger washed over him.

  Why was she so mad at him? For forgetting the kid’s name? He’d only met her a couple of times, even if one of them had been just a couple weeks ago.

  “Hey, your shot, Marley. Stop pickin’ on him,” Allison called. Marley turned in a huff. Ben put down his cue.

  “Look, um, this was a mistake. I thought I was ready for this, but I’m not. You guys finish this without me.” He turned and headed out, ignoring the protests of his friends and the little voice in his own mind that was asking where on earth he was going? Everyone he knew was here.

  Chapter 16

  The noise of the common area echoed upward through the prison. Even though Doug could leave his cell if he wanted to, he sat on his bunk, back to the corner of the room, facing the doorway. He kept his legs out in front of him so he could get up quickly if he needed. His palms lay on his thighs. He could feel the hardness of the muscles there. Breathe in. Breathe out. One. Breathe in. Breathe out. Two. Occasionally, a shiver raced through his body and his stomach would clench, deep and tight. Breath in. Breathe out.

  I can’t believe I’m inside again.

  The thought gripped him, and his body shivered violently.

  Just breathe. There’s a finite number of breaths between now and the moment I walk back out of here.

  Voices in the pod escalated, louder and louder. Doug sat. When the next shiver racked his body, he thought he might lose his mind. Everything in his being wanted to run, to leave. He didn’t believe he could do another two years.

  Maybe more, much more, he reminded himself. He was sure he couldn’t do it. This time, the shivering didn’t stop.

  I can’t do it. I can’t, Doug thought. Still, he must. If that was his fate, he’d have to endure. Endure or die.

  Can I do ten more breaths? The question was familiar to him. He’d made it through many nights asking that question.