Hunted by the Mob

by Elisabeth Rees

  “I hope you’ll take extra care today, Officer Diaz. After what happened with Marsha Volto, I expect you’ve learned some valuable lessons about security.” He glanced up as Goldie descended the stairs. “The subject of your protection assignment is incredibly important to me, and I need to know she’s in good hands.”

  “You can trust me, sir,” Officer Diaz said. “I give you my word that I won’t let you down.”

  Zeke smiled. “Thank you. I’ll leave my cell phone number on the refrigerator. Call me if you need any advice.”

  Suddenly, Goldie was behind him, gently moving him aside, holding out a hand to introduce herself.

  “Is Agent Miller subjecting you to an old-fashioned shakedown, officer?” she said with a smile. “Whatever he’s told you, don’t worry. We’re perfectly safe here.”

  Zeke gritted his teeth but said nothing. Why did she have to play down the danger like this?

  “I’ll do my best to minimize any risks, ma’am,” Officer Diaz said. “I’ll go take an immediate tour of the house and familiarize myself with the exits. I like to be well-prepared.”

  As soon as they were alone, Goldie tilted her head to the side and raised her eyebrows, apparently asking a silent question.

  “What?” Zeke said with an exaggerated shrug. “I was simply making sure Officer Diaz understood the severity of the situation.”

  “You were checking up on him,” she challenged. “Because you don’t trust him.”

  He couldn’t deny this accusation. “I don’t trust anyone, Goldie. Except you.”

  She pursed her lips. “And I thought I was meant to be the one with problems. You’re surrounded by great colleagues, and they’ve got your back. You have to learn to rely on them.”

  “When it comes to your safety, I’d rather be in control.”

  She gave him a gentle push back. “Get over yourself, Zeke. You’re not my knight in shining armor. I’m a trained agent just like you are.”

  “Yeah, I know.” He rubbed the back of his neck, worried about bringing up this difficult topic again. “But I get the feeling that I’d be more careful with your life than you are.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Not this again. I’m trying really hard to build up my self-worth. It’s not easy, but I’m working on it.”

  He was pleased to hear that. It was a good start. “Did you get around to reading that Bible I left in your room?” he asked, wondering if this might have anything to do with it.

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’ve opened Bibles a hundred times before,” she said. “I’ve spent hours reading passages and parables that are meant to be meaningful and profound, but they’re just stories that don’t mean anything to me anymore.”

  That made him so sad. “You don’t find meaning in any of them?”

  “No.”

  Zeke thought of the many passages of scripture that had supported and strengthened him during difficult days—those that encouraged him to cast his anxieties onto God and to trust in a wisdom that surpassed all understanding. He couldn’t imagine facing life without these vital sources of comfort and wished that Goldie could see things the same way.

  “Maybe it would help if I wrote some verses down for you,” he suggested. “You might not be finding the most inspirational ones.”

  She shook her head. “No, thank you. I’m fine.”

  He grabbed a pen and notepad from the hallway table. “Are you sure? It won’t take a second.”

  “Let it drop, Zeke.”

  He placed the pen and pad back on the table. “I wish you’d let me in a little more,” he said, deciding that a gentler approach might work better. “And stop being determined to be mad at me.”

  “I need to be mad at someone,” she said, folding her arms protectively. “Otherwise I have to accept that God hates me.”

  His mouth dropped open. “How on earth could you reach that conclusion?”

  “Think about all the things that happened to pull us apart.” She began to check the events off on her fingers. “My dad forced us to leave town in the middle of the night. Your dad destroyed my letters. Your parents changed their phone number so I couldn’t call. You moved away from Glenside only a few weeks before I managed to get to your house.” She let out a groan of frustration. “Are things really that random? Or was somebody out to destroy our relationship?”

  He could see what she was getting at. “You’re asking me if God is to blame?”

  “Well, if neither of us is at fault, then He’s the only one left to take the blame.” She stared down at her feet. “And if He deliberately crushed our love, then I guess it means He doesn’t much care for me.”

  “God doesn’t set out to cause us pain,” Zeke said. “He only wants what’s best for us.”

  “So why did He make me so miserable by letting us lose each other?”

  He sighed. Goldie sure knew how to wallow in misery. “Life is like a series of chapters. When you’re in the middle of the book, you don’t know how it’ll end. You have no idea how our story would’ve played out if we’d stayed in Glenside and settled down like we’d planned. Anything could’ve happened. We might’ve split up because we were too young and immature. You’d most likely never have joined the army or the Bureau, and you wouldn’t be the person you are today.”

  “I don’t know, Zeke,” she said with a look of skepticism. “It all sounds a little too convenient for my liking, like using the excuse that God’s always in control. Why can’t you just tell me that God messed up and let me be mad at Him?”

  “Because God didn’t mess up and blaming Him isn’t helping you.”

  She fell silent, but he saw her fists clench at her sides, her knuckles white. “I guess if God didn’t mess up then it has to be on you.”

  “You’re your own worst enemy, Goldie,” he said, letting his impatience get the better of him. “I don’t think you really want to grow and change. You just want to punish the world for hurting you. Or punish me at least.”

  “Is that what you think I’m trying to do?” she asked. “You think I’m trying to punish you?”

  “Well, aren’t you?”

  “No.” She sounded genuinely pained. “I’m trying to make sense of what happened, to learn to accept that everything I had planned out in my life came to nothing.” She threw her hands in the air. “What was the point in all those years we spent growing up together, falling in love, learning about each other, mapping our future? It was simply wasted time. I feel like I’ve been robbed, so please don’t tell me not to be angry. I don’t know how to be anything else right now.”

  “All I’m asking is that you try to stop hurting me because of the past,” he said. “We’ve already established that I don’t think there’s anything more I could’ve done.”

  “Yes,” she said firmly. “I understand that perfectly.”

  “I don’t know what I can do to help you, Goldie,” he said with exasperation. “I’ve tried everything and you only push me away.”

  “Everything?” she challenged. “You think you’ve tried everything?”

  “Yes.” He knew where she was leading him. “Almost everything.”

  “Everything apart from apologizing, right?”

  Zeke felt that Goldie was driving him to the brink of madness. “I really do care about you, Goldie, far more than you realize, but we’re continually going around in circles. If only you’d listen to me when I try to give you advice, you might be able to move forward, but you’re always putting up barriers, finding reasons to pin your unhappiness on everybody else’s shoulders but yours.”

  She blinked as if he had slapped her. “If that’s how you feel, then I guess this conversation is done.”

  He wondered if perhaps he had gone too far. “I really do want to help you, but sometimes I get frustrated.”

&nb
sp; “Help me?” she queried. “Like some sort of charity case.”

  “No, not like a charity case.” He really was making a mess of this. “Like a friend.”

  “We’re not friends, Zeke,” she said. “I don’t know what we are to each other now, but we’re certainly not friends.”

  That comment stung. “I thought we were doing okay,” he said. “Why can’t we be friends?”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re always telling me what to do, when to pray, what to feel, how to be a better person. It’s like I’m your little project or something.”

  He was taken aback and more than a little hurt by that. “I don’t see you as a project.”

  “Yes, you do. You’re trying to mold me into being somebody else, somebody better.”

  “I’m not. I’m just trying to help.”

  “I don’t need your help, because I’m fine with being a hot mess.” Pivoting on the ball of one foot, she swiveled away from him melodramatically. “Thanks for the chat, Zeke. It was superhelpful.”

  She stalked in the direction of the kitchen, and Zeke squeezed his forehead with an index finger and thumb. Goldie really infuriated him with her closed-mindedness and determination to hold on to hurt. She seemed like a lost cause, and he sometimes wondered whether to give up on her. Was the heartache really worth it?

  “I won’t give up on her just yet,” he muttered under his breath, rallying himself. “Let’s give it just one more day.”

  * * *

  Goldie opened the fridge and took a deep lungful of cool, crisp air, letting the white vapor glide over the layer of sweat on her face.

  “I can’t believe that the air-conditioning chose today of all days to stop working,” she said. “It must be more than one hundred degrees outside.”

  “One hundred and three to be exact, ma’am,” Officer Diaz said. “Extreme heat warnings have been issued by the local forecasters.”

  Goldie closed the refrigerator door and picked up her damp cloth from the kitchen counter. As soon as she pressed it to her forehead, it became apparent that the ice she had placed inside the folds just ten minutes ago had melted away, and the fabric was now tepid and unwelcome on her skin.

  “Oh, this is ridiculous,” she said, tossing the cloth aside. “Did you call the technician?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Officer Diaz replied. “But the sudden heat has caused a lot of technical problems today, and I’ve been told that a technician might take a few hours to arrive.”

  She slid down the side of the wall and sat with her legs outstretched, hands flat on the tiled floor, desperately trying to glean some coolness from the ceramic. But, like everything else, the tiles were warm and clammy.

  “The whole house feels like it’s sweating,” she said. “It’s excruciating.”

  “It would certainly help if we could open the drapes and windows on the shady side of the house,” Officer Moss said, fanning himself with a magazine. “But that’s strictly against the rules.”

  Goldie wiped her brow with the back of her hand and jutted her bottom lip to try to blow some damp tendrils from her face. With the house constantly shrouded in darkness and lit by artificial light, she imagined that the bulbs themselves were emitting a scorching heat to mingle with the awful humidity that pervaded every corner of every room. Wearing shorts and a tank top didn’t help in the slightest. She wanted to be immersed in water.

  “I think I’m gonna melt into a puddle right here on the floor,” she said. “Would you guys think I’m totally crazy if I said I wanted to take a swim in the pool?”

  Officer Moss laughed. “Taking a swim wouldn’t make you crazy, but it might get us fired. We’re not supposed to let you go outside.”

  She stood up, her bare feet slightly swollen, skin stretched tight. “Actually, I can do what I choose. You’re here to oversee my protection, but not to decide my movements. I’m still an agent of the FBI, and I get to weigh the risks.”

  Officer Diaz took a sip of water from a glass on the kitchen counter. Both officers had removed their ties and rolled up their shirtsleeves, but Officer Diaz had also taken off his shoes and folded up the hems of his pants. The overall effect meant that he looked a little like a ship’s castaway, and he sat on a stool at the breakfast bar, wiping his neck with a cloth.

  “Technically, ma’am,” he said, “you outrank us, so we take orders from you, not the other way around.”

  She smiled. “That’s what I thought.” She closed her eyes for a few seconds to imagine slipping into the beautiful chill of water. It would envelop her, saturate her hot scalp and soothe her swollen feet. “The drone jamming technology is installed now, right?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Officer Moss replied. “Any drone that tries to fly within two miles of this house will be neutralized.”

  “That means nothing with a signal can fly into the yard and hurt me.” She walked to the kitchen window and teased the blind aside. There was the pool, glinting in the haze, a muggy breeze sending small waves lapping across the surface. “What about a sniper?”

  Officer Moss appeared behind her and peeked through the small gap she’d created in the blind. “The security fence is too high for a shooter to hit you from close by.” He pointed to the rolling countryside beyond, the kind of view that only the very wealthy could afford in the suburbs. “A sniper would have to be way up in those hills to stand a chance of getting a direct line of sight.”

  “So he’d have to be a professional marksman?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’d say he’d only be able to take a shot from a mile away. And there’s the humidity to think of too. I’m no expert sniper, but these conditions would make it very difficult for a bullet to find its target.”

  She continued to stare at the pool, taking a big, deep breath and letting it out slowly. “That means I’m probably perfectly safe to take a quick dip.”

  “On balance of probabilities, you’d be fine,” Officer Moss replied. “But there’s a price of two million dollars on your head, so please don’t even consider taking the risk.”

  As a bead of sweat snaked its way down her back, she couldn’t help but contemplate it.

  Officer Diaz slid from his stool at the counter. “I’ll stand guard while you swim if you really want to.”

  “Maybe I should call Agent Miller,” Officer Moss said. “And run it by him first.”

  As if Zeke had a hotline to the conversation in the room, Goldie’s cell began to buzz across the counter, his name on the display. She picked it up and hit the answer button.

  “Are you checking up on me?” she asked.

  “Yes.” There was a low hum of voices in the background. “The court is on a break, so I checked in with Karl at the office. He tells me that your AC is broken and he’s struggling to get a repairman to you. How are you holding up in this heat?”

  “It’s like being inside a metal box that’s buried in a firepit,” she said. “It’s unbearable.”

  “That sucks, but you’ll have to bear it because there’s no other option.”

  She fell silent.

  “Goldie,” he said slowly. “You’re not thinking of doing something stupid, are you?”

  “No,” she lied. “Absolutely not.”

  “Good. Because I’m certain that a bounty hunter knows you’re at the house, and if you go outside, he’ll target you. And you’ll place everybody in danger.”

  “I know,” she said with a sigh. “That’s why I’m staying indoors.”

  “Promise me,” he said with a tone of condescension. “I need to hear you promise.”

  “Stop patronizing me, Zeke. And stop calling.”

  “Wait, Goldie—”

  She hung up the phone and tossed it roughly back on the counter. Then she re-wetted her cloth and held it to her temple.

  “My conscience just called,” she said. “I guess we’ll b
e staying in the sweatbox after all.”

  * * *

  “Goldie?” Zeke continued to hold the phone to his ear. “Are you there?” He moved the cell away from his head and stared at it. “She hung up on me.”

  Garth patted him on the shoulder as they both stood outside the door that led to the judge’s chambers. Mrs. Volto had broken down in tears numerous times while giving evidence that morning, so the trial judge had ordered a short recess to give her time to compose herself, allowing her the use of his own private space to do so. At that moment, Willy was giving his client a pep talk, likely reminding her that her husband had no power to hurt her in a packed courtroom dotted with armed guards.

  “Are you surprised she hung up on you?” Garth asked. “You’re checking up on her like she’s a child. Goldie is a grown woman who can take responsibility for herself. Give her some space.”

  Zeke was surprised at the rebuke. “You think I patronize her?”

  “A little.” As he spoke, Garth’s roving eye scanned the corridor, across the people wandering through. “I know you two have history, and it’s none of my business, but sometimes when you talk to her you seem kinda...” He stopped, clearly uncertain which word should follow. “Smug.”

  Now Zeke was even more surprised. “Smug?”

  “Yeah, like you have all the answers and she’s just a screwup.”

  Zeke’s mouth dropped open. In all of his dealings with Goldie, he never once considered himself condescending or arrogant. But maybe he was wrong.

  “I don’t think Goldie’s a screwup,” he said.

  Garth side-eyed him, one eyebrow sliding upward. “You don’t?”

  “Not really.” He considered all of Goldie’s flaws. “I think she makes bad choices, even when alarm bells should be ringing. She’s stubborn and won’t listen to reason. She’s argumentative. She holds on to grudges and past hurts. And she drives me to distraction because she can’t see how amazing she truly is.”

  “Wow.” Garth sucked air through his teeth. “I had no idea you were this crazy in love with her.”