by Freya Barker
“Not at all. I’m simply reminding you of your obligation to Ms. Rizzo, and my obligation to uphold the law.”
That leads to a stare down that does not intimidate me in the least. She’s the first one to look away.
“The money will be in her account,” she concedes through clenched teeth.
“Excellent. So glad we could work things out.” I turn to walk away a few steps before swinging back around. “Oh, and, Katherine?” I wait until her angry eyes meet mine. “Best keep Josh in check. He bothers Ollie again and I’ll have no choice but to throw the book at him. And I will—gladly.”
As I suspected, the official part of the opening was rife with long and boring speeches. The only thing notable was the clear snub Katherine gave Ollie in hers, when she didn’t even acknowledge her. The bitch. She praised the city, the urban planning committee, even the goddamn contractor, but not once did she mention Ollie.
Last one speaking is Stan Woodward, who is quick to give Ollie credit for her vision and hard work, but unfortunately the damage has been done. I can see it in Ollie’s strained face.
As soon as the crowd starts dissipating, and most of the notables have left, I walk up and throw an arm around her. I feel, more than see, her shoulders sag and her weight lean against me.
“Ready to—”
“Go? Please. I’m so glad this is over,” she mumbles, and I steer her to the parking lot.
My phone rings just as I’m about to get behind the wheel, and I hold up a finger to Ollie sitting in the passenger seat. When I check the screen and see Cruz Livingston’s name, I make it a point to walk away from the car before answering.
“Talk to me.”
“Found Rizzoli, twenty minutes ago, in a cash-only motel outside El Paso.”
“Dead?” I ask immediately.
“Four bullet holes in him, man. Walked in there, the place looks like a fucking abattoir with all the blood he’s lost over the past twenty-four hours.”
“Bleeding means alive,” I point out.
“If you can call it that. Flight for Life chopper just took off. Doesn’t look good.”
“Fuck. She’s going to want to see him.”
“Wouldn’t be wise.” He’s not telling anything I don’t know. No way should Ollie be going anywhere, but that doesn’t mean she won’t want to, and it’s on me to fucking break it to her. “Brace yourself,” Cruz says, his voice low. “Got more.”
“Shit.”
“You’ve got that right. Had eyes on Cindy Warner, Rizzoli’s secretary? My guy followed her home from a family visit last night, checked her place before she went inside, but got a bad vibe when there was no movement in her condo this morning. She was dead in her bathtub, bruising around her neck.”
“Fuck!”
“Looks like they got in from the roof through a bedroom window at the back of the house.”
“Why now? I mean they left her alone for weeks.”
“Rizzoli’s phone was missing, Joe. It likely has a record of his calls, and we know he called his secretary.”
Bile surges up at his words and I swing around to see Ollie looking through the window at me, concern on her face. “He called Ollie yesterday from that phone.”
“I know. That’s why I told you to brace.”
Chapter 16
Ollie
“What’s going on?”
The moment Joe walked away from the truck to take his call, I knew it was because he didn’t want me to hear. When he turned around and looked at me, his phone still by his ear, but his eyes never wavering from mine, I knew it was about Christian.
“Let’s get home and we’ll talk,” he says in his soft voice, but instead of soothing me—it pisses me off.
“Fuck that,” I snap. “If you know anything about my brother, you tell me now.”
“Ollie, let’s—”
“No, Joe. Whatever news you have to give me is preferable to not knowing, and imagining the worst.”
“They found your brother. He’s been airlifted to a hospital in El Paso. That’s all—”
“He’s alive?” Tears well up and I immediately grab my bag to dig out my phone, but before I get a chance to open my browser to look for flights Joe grabs it from me. “What the hell?”
He leans forward and grabs my chin with the other hand. “You need to listen to me.” His intensity is freaking me out. “Right now I need to be focused so I can keep you safe. Please don’t use your phone for anything. Don’t answer any calls, don’t argue, and let me drive you home. Can you do that for me?” Definitely freaking out. So much so, I realize I’m holding my breath. “Breathe, baby,” he whispers in his soft voice, and I let the air out with a whoosh. “Now let me do my job.”
The moment we pull out of the parking spot, Joe’s phone rings. He hits the hands-free button.
“Yeah.”
“It’s Gomez. Got a call from Livingston just now. We need to meet.”
“I know. I’ve got Ollie in the truck and we’re on our way home.” I glance over at him, knowing he just warned the other man not to say too much. I’m not sure if I should be pissed or grateful. He catches me watching and reaches over, giving my leg a squeeze. “I’ll need some time to fill her in. My place in an hour?”
“I’ll make a few calls and we’ll be there.”
This doesn’t sound good. None of this sounds good and I spend the rest of the drive to Joe’s place vacillating between relief, confusion, and alarm.
When we pull into the driveway, Joe helps me out of the Toyota and with an arm tightly around me, leads me into the house.
Neither of us speaks until he sits me down on the large sectional, sitting down right beside me.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” he says, taking me by surprise. “Shit just got serious in a way that is going to take a little processing.”
“More serious than my brother getting shot?”
I don’t like the expression on his face, and I really don’t like it when he grabs my hands in his. “Your brother’s in bad shape, Sweets. He was barely hanging on when Cruz found him.”
I swallow a sob. Even though I haven’t seen him for eighteen years, had written him out of my life, there’d been a time my brother had been my anchor—the only safe haven I had—so it hadn’t been so easy to ban him from my heart. The possibility of losing him is hitting me hard.
“I need to see him.”
Joe drops his gaze to our hands before he takes a deep breath and looks up at me. “It’s too dangerous, sweetheart.”
“Can’t I—”
His hand comes up and cups my cheek and he leans his forehead against mine. “It’s too dangerous,” he repeats. “His phone was missing from the scene.” When I stare back at him, not understanding, he adds, “Last person he called was you, Ollie.”
“Shit,” I hiss, grabbing the wrist of the hand Joe keeps pressed against my face.
“There’s more, so I need you to brace.”
“More?” I’m not sure if I can handle more. The sadness I felt just seconds ago is suddenly replaced with a burning anger—at my brother. He didn’t just mess up with my life eighteen years ago, but he’s doing it again now.
“Yeah. They got to your brother’s secretary. He had been in touch with her and it looks like they aren’t taking any chances. She was found this morning.”
I don’t even need to ask; I can tell from Joe’s words and tone, the poor woman is dead. “And now they’re coming for me?” It’s clear he doesn’t want to answer, but eventually he speaks.
“It’s possible.”
In one move, I’m up off the couch and head for the stairs, the only thought in my head to get out of here. Disappear like I did all those years ago.
When I’m halfway up the stairs, I’m suddenly lifted off my feet with a strong arm wrapped around my stomach.
“Where are you going?”
I struggle against Joe’s arm, but he holds fast. I’m not weak, but I’m no match for Joe’s streng
th, and he much too easily carries me the rest of the way upstairs and into his bedroom, where he tosses me on the bed, landing on top of me, and caging me in.
“You have to let me go,” I plead, trying to roll out from under him but he has me pinned.
Panic sets in. It feels like insects crawling under my skin and I can’t get enough air in my lungs.
“Ollie, look at me.” He braces on one hand while the other turns my head to face him. “You need to breathe, sweetheart.”
I focus on his eyes and force myself to take slow deep breaths. “I’m good. I’m all right.” The words are meant more for myself than Joe.
Slowly rationale returns, even though my heart is still racing. Joe’s body on me less of a confinement than it is a comfort now.
“Are you gonna bolt?” he asks, his eyes scanning my face. I shake my head. “Good,” he whispers, even as he lowers his head and brushes my lips with his. The next moment he rolls off and I immediately miss his weight on me.
“The kids.” The sudden thought hitting me square in the gut.
Joe’s hand is instantly back at my face. “They’re gone. Safe.”
“You sure?” His boys should already be at camp, but Trinny’s plane doesn’t leave until four.
He pushes off the bed, his feet hitting the floor, and his hand already digging in his pocket.
“Hey, girl,” he rumbles in the phone, eyes on me. “Boarding soon?” I watch as a corner of his mouth pulls up. “Yeah, she’s here. We just wanted to check in. Have a good trip, honey.” Now with a soft smile on his face as he listens to my daughter talk—one I’m filing away with the rest of my memorable moments—seeing as it warms me from the inside out. “I will. Handing you over now.” He holds out the phone and I press it to my ear as I sit up.
“Hey, baby.”
“Hey, Momma.” I can hear the smile in her voice and my heart settles. “Will you be okay?”
My girl, looking out for me. A lump forms in my throat and my eyes sting. “I’m fine, baby,” I manage, still, my voice catches.
“Back in two weeks,” my girl whispers, hearing it.
“I know. Have so much fun, okay? Send me lots of pictures, yeah?”
“Will do. I’ve gotta go, Mom, they’re starting to board.”
“Okay, honey. Let me know when you get there.”
“Love you, Momma.”
It’s been a long time since she’s told me that, so I need a second to feel the words course through me. Filing that too. “Love you lots, baby.”
Joe takes the phone and grabs my hand to help me off the bed. Then he dials, wraps an arm around me, and pulls me to his side. As if it’s second nature, I slide an arm around his back and lean in.
“This is Joe Benedetti. I want to make sure my sons arrived okay? Mason and Ryder Benedetti. Good. Right. No, don’t do that. I’ll talk to them another time. You have my numbers? Right. Thank you.”
I tilt my head up and look at him, as he tucks the phone back in his pocket and turns me in front of him, both arms around me now.
“Boys are there. In the middle of an orientation session. They’re good, Ollie.”
“Thank you.” I give his waist a little squeeze.
“You’re welcome.” His clear gray eyes are warm on mine before they slide down to my mouth. “It’s that I know Gomez will be knocking at the door soon, or I’d taste those gorgeous lips of yours,” he mumbles, and my breath hitches. “But next time I take your mouth, I won’t want to stop there. Fair warning.” That sounds more like a promise than a warning, and I can feel it right to my core.
“So noted.”
Joe
“More coffee?”
I watch as Ollie does the rounds with the pot. She’s strung tight with nervous energy and can’t seem to sit still for more than a few minutes at a time.
Damian Gomez, Dylan Barnes, and to my surprise, Keith Blackfoot are all sitting at my dining table. Damian apparently gave both Keith and Tony a head’s up, and Keith ended up showing because Tony just caught a burglary case.
“Please,” Damian smiles at her.
All the guys at the table probably recognize the edge of panic that still lingers in her eyes and accept their third cup of coffee in fifteen minutes, just to let her feel a purpose. Good guys, all of them, and if it wasn’t for our current situation, I’d take a moment to consider my luck, ending up here in Durango.
Since we do have a situation and it’s a worrisome one, I jump right back in.
“So what’s our move?” I prompt.
Damian has just filled us in on his second phone call from Livingston. Rizzoli is apparently still hanging on and in surgery—news that had Ollie swallowing hard, but holding it together—and forensics was going over both crime scenes with a fine-tooth comb, with minimal luck so far. The one good bit of news was from the motel, where a witness had heard the shots, saw a man darting out of one of the rooms, and beeline it for a car left to idle in the parking spot in front. He also was able to give decent descriptions of both, but was not able to catch a license plate. Now if forensics can find something concrete to add to that witness account, we’d have something to go after.
As it is, we’re in waiting mode, which is something I don’t think anyone around the table is happy with. Main concern will be to make sure Ollie is safe in the meantime.
“She stays here,” Damian says without hesitation to me, but his eyes slide to Ollie. “Under no circumstance do you go back to your house. Jasper will work on making any record of your phone account disappear, but there’s no guarantee they haven’t already pulled information from there, which is why you cannot go home.” Ollie nods, but I can see this is freaking her out, so I reach under the table and put a calming hand on her bouncing knee. “He’ll need your phone, as well as your computer.” Damian holds up his hand when Ollie opens her mouth to speak. “You’ll have that back in a day or two. He’ll put some security measures in place so it’s safe for you to use. Dylan will move your MINI to our office.”
“Why?”
Dylan answers her. “Because I’ll be temporarily moving into your place to keep an eye on things from there. Anyone knocks on the door, I’ll tell them you’re on an extended vacation.”
“Now here’s the hard part,” Damian leans his forearms on the table, a sympathetic look on his face. “You’re going to have to put word out to your clients that you will be traveling for a few weeks.”
“But I have projects—”
“I realize that,” he interrupts. “But it’s important the message you are on vacation is consistent.” Ollie’s hand grabs mine under the table and I give her a reassuring squeeze. “We have two weeks before your daughter returns, which means we need to focus on getting this case resolved before she comes back, instead of needing full-time security on you. You stay under the radar, while the outside world thinks you’re off on a trip, is the safest way to do that.”
“So I can’t go out at all?”
Damian’s eyes dart to mine before he swings them back to Ollie. “That’s probably something you should work out with Joe.” He pushes up from his chair, and Dylan follows suit. “I’ll need your phone, car keys, and your house key. Anything you need from the house, Dylan can get and drop off tonight, just text him a list.”
“I won’t exactly have my phone,” Ollie snaps and I bite down a smile. I much prefer her pissed off than frightened.
“You can use mine,” I offer when I close the door behind the two agents. “And one of us can pick you up a new one.”
“What if Trinny tries to call me?”
I walk back to her and curl my hand around the side of her neck. “She has my number,” I assure her, leaning down. “We’ll tell her you dropped yours and broke it.”
“Is her phone connected to your account?” Keith, who stayed behind pipes up, his eyes taking us in with a smile tugging at his mouth.
“No, it’s a new provider. We changed her account recently.”
“That’s goo
d. I should probably head out too,” he says grabbing his cup and setting it by the sink before he turns and looks at me. “You want—I can cover for you. Ramirez is on board as well. You need to be somewhere; one of us can be here. Keep the circle small.”
“Appreciated.”
To Ollie he says, “You’ll be all right, and any time you feel the walls closing in on you, my wife is on family leave and stuck at home with our six-week-old boy. We’re up on the mountain—remote—and I’m sure she’d love a chance to talk to a human being instead of her cats.”
“I’d like that.”
She’s clearly affected by the offer and Keith gives her arm a squeeze. “We’ll be in touch,” he says, and I walk him to the door where he turns to me. “Make room for the SUV in your garage, she won’t even need to step out of the house to get some fresh air. No risk. Temperatures are great, view is gorgeous from my deck, Autumn will be happy with the company.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Another reminder how fortunate I am to have found this new community. These new friends.
Keith gives me a half-smile and a chin lift before walking out the door, and I turn to see Ollie washing the coffee cups at my sink.
Fuck yeah, I’m a lucky bastard.
Chapter 17
Joe
I wake up when my phone starts buzzing on my nightstand.
It’s still dark outside, and judging from Ollie’s soft snores, she’s still sleeping. Has been since dropping off in the middle of a movie we were watching last night. I’d dozed off shortly after and woke up with her body draped over mine a little after midnight. She never even moved her eyelids as I carried her upstairs. It had been a stressful day and she was out like a light.
Still, it didn’t feel right taking off her prosthesis or her clothes with her dead to the world, even if I had made my intentions clear earlier. So I ended up laying her on top of the covers, went and got a quilt from the couch downstairs and wrapped her in that. Since my bed is a California King, there was plenty of room for me and I stripped quickly, pulled on a pair of running shorts and slipped under the covers. I thought it would take me longer to get back to sleep with her within my reach, but I was gone again in seconds.
