Taylor checked his text messages again as he sat down across from Agent Nance. Sara hadn’t responded to his latest text yet. She was probably dealing with a client, or in a meeting or a training session. She’d called just two hours ago, confirming that yes, she’d gotten to work okay, no, she hadn’t seen any suspicious activity since he’d left, and yes, she’d go to a hotel at the first sign of trouble. “Now go pay attention to your family,” she’d said. “And you’d better come home to me in one piece.”
Christ, he missed her. From the first night he’d slept over, they’d rarely spent a night apart, alternating between his apartment and her house, though they’d been staying at her house more and more often. The Monday after Krista’s visit she’d given him a key and the current code to the alarm.
It was fast. He knew it. He didn’t give two fucks how fast they were going as long as Sara was right there with him.
“Mr. Smith?”
He pulled his thoughts away from Sara and the unanswered text. Agent Nance studied him with an expectant look on his face, pen at the ready. “Yes, sorry.” Setting the phone on the table would only taunt him, so he slid it into his coat pocket.
Nance lifted a brow and picked up his pen. “You’ve associated with Tony Flaherty since you were a teenager, correct?”
“Around twelve or thirteen. I didn’t start collecting for him until high school. I believe I was fifteen.”
Nance’s pen scratched over the paper, the sound barely audible over the muted noise of the street below. “What did you collect?”
“Information. I rarely reported directly to Tony. Most of my dealings were with Patrick Reilly.”
The agent nodded and continued his notes, occasionally asking a question as Taylor detailed his history with the Pretty Boys. “There have been rumors of a new line of heroin coming out of Mexico,” Nance said when Taylor got to Tony’s current offer. “We’ve been on the look-out, but so far no product has hit the streets.”
He put the pen down and sat back in his chair. “The case is finally starting to come together. Years delayed, but we’re getting there. There’s still a substantial chance what we have won’t hold up, though. Lot of people nervous about giving depositions against Flaherty. Would you consider becoming a confidential informant?”
Taylor stared at him. “You want me to go back in.”
“Nailing Tony Flaherty on a trafficking charge would shut down his organization for good and put him away a lot longer.” There as a knock at the door, and a short, ruddy-faced man stuck his head in. Nance waved him into the room. “Griffin Zawacki, Taylor Smith. Taylor, Griffin. Griffin flew in from our Portland field office. He’ll be your handler.”
Griffin held out a hand, and Taylor shook it, still scrambling to comprehend what was happening. “I haven’t agreed to this,” he said finally.
Nance leaned forward, fingertips steepled. “No, you haven’t. But after what you’ve told me, I can imagine you’d want to do whatever was necessary to take down Tony Flaherty.”
“I’ve also got a girlfriend in Portland he’s been terrorizing. I’m not going to do something that puts her at risk.” Joining Tony’s organization in any capacity was not an option. He would not do that to Sara. He wouldn’t do that to himself. He’d put that life behind him when he left for Carolina. He needed an alternative. Something he could give them now that would make their case stronger.
“I can meet with Tony while I’m here. I can wear a wire.” Even as he said the words, he knew it wouldn’t work. He’d be searched the moment he set foot in Tony’s house. If he was caught wearing a wire, he’d be dead.
Except…
Tony was desperate. Wasn’t that what Jamie’d said? Desperate? Was he desperate enough to agree to meet Taylor on his terms?
Nance was shaking his head. “We can try sending you in with a wire, but chances are Flaherty will search you.”
“Or I could get Tony to meet me somewhere. You could bug the place ahead of time.” Jamie. Jamie would help. “My brother Jamie works for the utility company. Show him how to plant the bugs. He goes into my parent’s house, plants them, Tony comes over, you get him on tape telling me he wants to set up a mule run between Mexico and Boston.” Taylor’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and his heart stuttered. She was all right. Of course she was all right. The phone kept buzzing. A phone call, then, not a text. Not Sara. Disappointment was a lead weight in his stomach, and he forced his attention back to the two agents in front of him.
Griffin was studying him with interest. “It could work. It’s not as substantial as a trafficking charge, but it’s a quicker solution.”
Taylor pressed forward. “Working my way into the new operation will take months, at least. Tony’s never done anything quick. He covers his ass, and this won’t be any different.” Already it was different; the Pretty Boys had worked hard to keep the hard shit out of Charlestown, practically the only good they’d done for the neighborhood. That right there was a barometer of Tony’s desperation, if he was willing to let heroin onto his streets.
Nance flipped his pen back and forth, his gaze flitting from Taylor to Griffin. Finally he dropped it on the table. “Doubt it’ll make much difference.”
Taylor was tired. He wanted to spend a couple days with his family, make sure they were okay, work on his parents to get them away from Charlestown. He wanted to go home to Sara. “It’s all you’re getting. The case goes to trial, I’ll come back and testify. I’ll talk to Matt and see if he’d be willing to do the same. But I’m not getting involved for any length of time in anything Tony’s got planned.” He rolled his chair back from the table and stood. “You know how to reach me.”
Neither man said a word as Taylor let himself out of the room, pulling his phone from his pocket as he strode down the industrial-beige hallway. Foolish to think the authorities would be of any use, and a waste of time. He thumbed off the screen lock to see who’d called, his pulse kicking into overdrive when he saw it was Sara.
She didn’t answer right away, and he increased his speed, as though running down the hallway to the elevator would get him to her faster. “Hey, hon.”
“You all right?” She sounded calm. Happy. He dropped back to a walk right before he entered the reception area.
“What? Yeah, I’m fine. Why—? Oh, shit. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. I was calling to thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”
Relief washed over him, and he exhaled slowly. The e-reader he’d bought for her must have arrived. He’d had it delivered to the office. “I wanted to.” It hadn’t been the most romantic of gifts, but it was something she wanted, and something she’d use — a lot, probably to the point she’d ignore him on occasion. He’d liked the image of her curled up on the couch, the device in her delicate hands. He’d liked it even more when he’d added himself to the picture, Sara snug against his side, her head on his shoulder as she read while he snuck glances at her book. Figuring out what book to buy her next could be a fun game. A permanent sort of game.
“How are your parents?”
Taylor punched the down button and turned so he faced the reception area. “They’re holding up. Pop’s healing pretty well, and grumpy about it. I’m heading over there now.” He’d thought about staying with his parents while he was in town, thought about staying with Jamie, and discarded both options. Tony would have heard he was home by now, since he’d gone to see his folks first thing, but he didn’t want to invite trouble by staying with them.
The elevator arrived, and he stepped into the car. “I’m in an elevator, so I might lose you.” Lose you. The words tightened like a knot in his chest. He would not lose her. He was putting this behind him so he wouldn’t.
“’Kay. I need to get moving anyway. I miss you,” she said softly.
“Miss you, too.” The call dropped as the elevator descended, and he clutched the phone in his hand.
Another couple of days. Another couple of days, and he’d be home.
* * *
Ma shook her head, her short brown hair dancing around her face. The grey streaks were more liberal now. “I’m not letting that man into my house, Taylor.”
He didn’t blame her. Whatever mess Tony’s guys had made the night they’d broken in had been cleaned up, and a brand-new flat screen stood on the old rolling cart they’d used as an entertainment center for years. Pop was ensconced in the recliner, his attention on a golf tournament.
“It’s a few hours, Ma. Jamie’s going to come in and set everything up.” Nance had given in to Taylor’s suggestion quickly, calling him later that same day. Taylor shifted forward on the battered couch and braced his elbows on his knees. “This was the best way we could think of to try and get Tony behind bars for good. We get him on tape talking about a drug deal, it’ll really help the Feds.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, her chin set and expression resolute. “He’s not welcome in my house. You’ll have to have your meeting elsewhere.”
He’d known there was a possibility his mother would dig in her heels, but he’d assumed she’d eventually see reason — inviting Tony to his parents’ house was the place least likely to raise suspicion, and the easiest for Taylor and his new buddies with the FBI to control. There was no way he could walk into a meeting with him miked up, and Tony was too smart to discuss something as big and illegal as his newest venture in a public setting. It had to be here, or it wouldn’t happen at all.
Before he could explain, again, why the meeting needed to occur here, his father spoke up. “The boy’s right, Lorna. Flaherty’s too smart to go for anything other than a private meeting, and he’ll search Taylor the moment he steps inside. Let ‘em use the basement.”
“Bobby—“
Pop turned his head sharply, pain flashing across his face. He held up a hand. “It’s my house, too. The meeting’s here, if Tony will agree to it. Taylor’s a smart kid. Smart enough to get himself out of the mess in the first place. While we’re at it,” he said, picking up the remote and muting the TV, “you given any more thought to the place out in Lynn? George said there’ve been two more showings. You want it, we need to make an offer.”
Taylor’s brows shot up. This was a surprise. Ma hadn’t said anything about an actual house the last time he’d spoken with her. He’d figured between him and Jamie they still had a lot of work cut out for them, convincing their parents it was time to move out of Charlestown. “Ma? You found a house?”
Ma tugged at the hem of her shirt and smoothed her hair behind her ears. “You remember the Carters, from two streets over? They moved to Lynn a few years ago. George mentioned to your father a couple of weeks ago a house was up for sale on their street. It’s nothing fancy, just a two bedroom, one bath, and it’ll mean a longer commute for me, but the neighborhood is quiet.”
“And there’s no Tony Flaherty or his gangsters hanging around,” Pop muttered.
Taylor suppressed a grin and kept a tight hold on his excitement. Tony had already proven he was willing to stretch his resources to get what he wanted from Taylor by stalking Sara. While having his parents out of the neighborhood was no guarantee Tony would leave them alone, it was still some much-needed distance, and it gave him hope.
He looked around the living room, taking in the cracked walls and faded plaid curtains, the furniture that had been old when Taylor was a child, the carpeting that had been vacuumed and shampooed into a non-color. The upstairs was much the same, more cracked walls that had been repainted sometime in the last two decades, worn carpeting. The property taxes were killing them. Moving out of the city would be better for them for a number of reasons.
He wouldn’t be sorry to see the house go. The neighborhood as he knew it was long gone, young families and people with disposable income taking over, house by block by street. Someone else would come in, fix up this house with the money his parents never had.
“Glad to hear it, Ma,” he said. “Want to take a drive out there before I leave? You can show it to me.”
Chapter Twenty Five
“Glad you decided to reconsider, Taylor.” Tony thumped down the stairs to the basement, seemingly unconcerned with the undiluted hatred on Ma’s face.
“Always good to have all the facts before making a decision.” Taylor waited for Sean to precede him. Sean normally didn’t attend these meetings, so his presence had to mean something. “Patrick not coming?”
“Patrick’s handling some other errands for me.” Tony settled himself into the one comfortable chair in the basement, the space a sort of family room Taylor and his brothers had used when friends came over to hang out. The couch with its broken springs that Matt had found on the sidewalk and Taylor and his dad had wrestled down the stairs still sat in its place of honor in the middle of the room, and Taylor took the seat on the left, knowing the broken springs in the middle and right would make sitting for any length of time uncomfortable.
“Too bad. Would have been nice to catch up with him.” Taylor wondered if those “errands” were in Portland. “Just so we’re clear from the outset, I agree to do this for you, my family meets with no more unfortunate accidents?”
“We’ll see to it that no one bothers your parents.” Tony’s thin mouth twisted in an amused grin. The years had not been kind to him. His face had wrinkled up worse than Keith Richards’, and he was almost unrecognizable as the man who’d terrorized the neighborhood for decades.
Taylor was tempted to ask about Sara as well, stopping himself before he could. He didn’t want to draw any more attention to her than necessary. “The set up. It’s out of Mexico?”
“Sinaloa. Product is shipped through Arizona currently, out through Oklahoma and the Midwest. There’s been some trouble lately on the current transport route, so we’re looking into alternatives. If we can get it up to Seattle, 90 is a possibility, but we’d prefer a less trafficked route.”
“And it would be my responsibility to find that route?” Sean shifted around on the other end of the couch, trying to get away from the spring that was likely digging into his ass, and finally gave up and stood.
Tony’s grin never faltered. “Among others. I would expect you to monitor the transport and stay in contact with our friends in Campo and Tecate. We’re in the middle of negotiating passage through the Cleveland National Forest and the Capitan Grande Reservation.”
“Avoiding the Five,” Taylor murmured.
“The what? Oh, you mean Interstate Five?” Tony chuckled. “Yes, exactly. Tell me, have you spent much time in California?”
“A summer after college.” Three months of no responsibilities, sun, and hiking. He’d finally allowed himself to believe that his family was safe, that Tony couldn’t reach him. “I spent more time in the northern part of the state, though.”
Tony waved Sean over. “You’ll learn. You’ve always been a smart and clever boy.” Boy. He wasn’t a boy any longer. Sean held out an older model flip phone. “All calls will be made on this phone. Patrick’s the only one with the number, and he’ll be your contact, just like before.”
Taylor stared at the phone Sean held out. “This meeting is to talk. Learn the facts. Never said I would do it.”
Tony lost the grin. “I thought you understood how this works. Asking for the details signifies your agreement, Taylor. Think of your family. Jamie’s done well for himself, hasn’t he? Nice condo, good job. His supervisor speaks well of him.”
Taylor waited. Tony wasn’t done. He’d started with the strongest of his loved ones, knowing it wouldn’t do much to rattle Taylor. Jamie could handle himself. No, Tony was dangling his younger brother under his nose as bait. The real prize was who he named next.
The real prize was his next target.
“Heard your girlfriend’s ex was out on parole.” There it was. Sara. His weakness. Not a weakness. The part of him that made him stronger, better. Tony tapped a finger on the armrest. “He’d like to see her again, you know. Apologize, try to make things right.”
So
somehow Tony had gotten to Sam, talked to him. Planted a seed in his brain about seeing Sara again. No way was Sam getting anywhere near her.
Not all scars are visible.
“He’s on a pretty tight leash,” Taylor replied. He’d asked Sara to check in with the detective in Sacramento just after he left to confirm Sam was still complying with the terms of his release, even though she’d done so recently.
Tony shook his head. “You of all people should know better than to put faith in law enforcement. Weekly check-ins? Show up for work daily? Sacramento isn’t far from Portland if you’re motivated. Call in sick for a day, you can get up and back in less than two.”
The first niggle of doubt worked its way into his brain. Maybe he should have brought Sara with him instead of leaving her to fend for herself.
“She’s a pretty little thing. Got a fire to her. It’s good to see after what she’s been through. She fought back.”
The basement walls closed in on him as Taylor considered his options. Refuse Tony and Sara would get hurt. If it was Patrick out in Portland, that meant physical pain; he’d never been one for sexual assault. Taylor hoped that remained true.
If he took on Tony’s job, he’d give Nance what he really wanted and he and Sara would still be in danger. Informing on Tony would mean revealing something about the other end of the pipeline, and whoever Tony was dealing with had to be as dangerous as him.
Pretending to agree would buy him a little time to figure out how to keep Sara and his family safe. He just hoped it would be enough.
He took the phone from Sean. “You’ll be in touch?”
Tony’s lips split in a wide smile. “Excellent choice, Taylor. Glad we could come to an agreement.”
* * *
“I’m fine,” Sara insisted. “I haven’t seen anything around your apartment. Detective Fallon checked in with Detective Milan and confirmed that Sam has actually been at work.” She fell silent. “Sam does want to apologize,” she said softly. “Detective Milan called me himself to ask. I told him I’d think about it.”
Hidden Scars Page 19
