“Why do I have to bring the beer?”
Quaid laughed. “Because you’re the ugliest.”
“Fuck you.”
“Would, but you’re too ugly.” Quaid really laughed now.
“Funny,” Oz replied.
“Besides, guys with squirrels taking up residence on their chins don’t quite do it for me,” Quaid returned, making fun of Oz’s goatee.
Just had to love the guys at CEP. Fuckers.
“Jesus. You should bring the beer ‘cause you’re a dumbass,” Oz said.
“We did lack of intelligence last year. Boone won. This year is lack of looks. And you’re the champ.” Quaid chuckled.
“Good thing I know I look good or you’d be giving me a complex right now.” He ran a hand over his goatee wondering if maybe it was time to shave the shit off.
“Yeah, whatever. So where are you?” Quaid asked.
“Jersey turnpike. Bringing Hernandez in,” Oz answered.
“Damn. Read in the paper that the girl probably won’t be able to have children. That’s fucked up.”
“It is. Got him right here. If I thought the police would take him, I’d do a little rearranging of his face, but they tend to frown on that.”
“Too bad. Wish you could bring him in and we’d use him for a punching bag. Works for me.” Oz could hear the anger in Quaid’s voice. Dude seriously loved women and was very protective of them, well, when he wasn’t in dom mode or whatever the hell it was called. “Hey, you bringing that Lauren chick with you tomorrow?”
“Doubt it. I haven’t had a chance to talk to her in over a month. Been a little busy lately. You bringing Diane?”
“Nah. She’s a little too pristine for my taste.”
“Shit, Tasha Reign’s a little too pristine for your taste.” Oz chuckled. He wasn’t quite sure all that Quaid was into. He knew about the dom thing along with a variety of other stuff he’d heard him allude to over the years, things like his love for women who were subs and shit like bondage. He also knew he had an affinity for threesomes, but Oz didn’t really feel like finding out all the deets of Quaid’s sex life. Not now… or ever.
“Not true. I’d take Tasha on in a goddamned heartbeat. She’s one hot porn star.”
“You and me both,” Oz agreed.
“Hell no. I like threesomes but the other two have to be chicks.”
“Bro, if it were between you and me, Tasha would choose me over you any day.” It was Oz’s turn to chuckle.
Quaid huffed out a laugh. “That’s why that woman went home with me the other night and not you, right?”
“She wasn’t my type. I like ‘em soft. Dominatrix doesn’t get it done for me.” Damn. Remembering that, Oz shook his head. Just when he thought he had Quaid figured out he went and flipped sides.
“Don’t know what you’re missing out on.”
“Whips and chains give me the heebie jeebies.”
“Did you just say ‘heebie jeebies’?”
“I did. In other words, keep that fucking shit away from me,” Oz explained.
Quaid barked out a laugh. “Missing out.”
“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, I’ll be back in another hour and a half. How about you meet me at Rudy’s?”
“Got it. I’ll get rid of Jasmine and see you there.”
They hung up and all Oz could do was shake his head again. Quaid most definitely loved women, all types he now knew, and he shouldn’t have been surprised that he’d had one there even as he spoke about other women. Guy had balls for sure.
***
Graham wasn’t happy but he’d already made arrangements for what he had to do.
Maddox had called that morning telling him that Zim wasn’t backing down, that he didn’t want to lose his wife and child, and he had no other option but to turn them all in.
Jesus.
He’d threatened the idiot just the night before. Did Zim not know how serious the situation was? Well, he’d soon be finding out.
Graham sat at his desk in his office, leaning back in his chair, staring at the tumbler of scotch in his hand. “Stupid motherfucker,” he mumbled before drinking down what was left in his glass.
He knew what he had to do and it wasn’t going to be easy. Taking someone out was never uncomplicated, but that was just the way it went. Not that emotions got in the way. It was just the making it happen without getting caught that he was concerned with.
He stood and walked across the room to his safe that was hidden behind a picture on the wall. Upon pulling the portrait back on its hinges, he put in the combination and when the door opened he reached in and pulled out a gun case. The unregistered Glock 17 inside had a suppressor and would be perfect for the job. He picked it up checking the magazine making sure it was loaded.
The plans were set. He and Brynne always went to her parents’ for Thanksgiving so that’s where they’d be tomorrow evening. In the morning, he’d tell her that something came up in their Boston office, that he’d have to hop the company jet and go check on things then he’d be back by late afternoon. Zim was in his office every morning, even on holidays; therefore, he’d go take care of Zim, make the flight to Boston, then head back all in a matter of hours. That’d be a good enough alibi and no one would suspect a thing.
He smiled as he held the gun extended in his hand making a shooting motion with it. “This dies with me,” he said with finality.
Chapter 7
Thanksgiving Day morning, Tilly was ready to leave her house at five, and when the taxi honked, she grabbed the equipment she’d packed and quadruple-checked and made her way out the door.
“I need to get as close to the parade as you can get me,” she told the cabbie.
The guy nodded and took off, headed toward the chaos.
Tilly had gone the night before to watch the balloon inflations and gotten some rather interesting pictures. She’d gone around nine, and though she usually focused on children for the shoot, most of the people she’d caught on film were either teenagers or adults, and she’d taken a good array of photos. Funny how the holidays put the biggest smile on most everyone’s face.
Upon being dropped off near FAO Schwarz, Tilly felt the chill cut right through her and she pulled her sky blue stocking cap down over her ears and wrapped the matching scarf more tightly around her neck as she walked toward Central Park. There was only a small crowd out and about at the early hour, which was perfect. She knew she’d find an optimal spot to get some great shots.
Stopping near 61st and Central Park West, she decided it was an excellent place to stand. She got out her DSLR and snapped some pictures of a few of the balloons that she could see from where she stood, checking the photos to make sure her settings were good. She had a smaller “point and shoot” camera in case she wanted to walk through the crowd and take pictures quickly, but the DSLR would be the star of the day.
As it got closer to eight, the crowd had really picked up. She was still right on the street and could barely move without bumping someone, but she’d been through this many times before, so it was no surprise. She didn’t need a lot of room, and with both cameras around her neck, she’d have quick access to either when she needed them.
Halfway through the parade, she was having the time of her life. She’d gotten so many amazing pictures of not only floats but of the children. She’d made sure to explain to parents where the pictures may be published, asking for their permission to use them then giving them her card. Almost everyone was cooperative and excited at the prospect of their child’s picture being in a magazine, some even asking to see the photos she’d taken.
After Santa had gone by on his sleigh ending the parade, the crowd started to disperse leaving Tilly with a great feeling of satisfaction. She couldn’t wait to get home and start the process of winnowing out the best photos.
She took out the SD card from her DSLR, sticking it in her jeans pocket then packed the camera away into its bag, leaving her smaller camera around her neck. She walked with the
crowd, taking a left at 59th Street and while at an intersection as she waited on the light, she took several shots of the passersby then followed the crowd across the street.
Not ready to go home quite yet, she decided that she wanted to see the window displays at Macy’s, and since she was wearing her sneakers, she walked there, enjoying the sights and sounds of the holidays, Christmas decorations already displayed beautifully in various windows and on buildings.
She stopped to buy a hot chocolate from a vendor on the street and suddenly had the strange sensation that someone was watching her. She looked around to see who it might be, but not noticing anyone in particular, she continued walking, sipping on her drink, the warmth sliding down her throat soothing her insides from the chill.
When she got to Macy’s, there was a crowd gathered to look at the window display and she used her smaller camera to take more shots, again leaving her card with parents. Then feeling as if she’d collected some very good pictures, she hailed a cab and headed back to Brooklyn to check out her spoils.
If she’d hung around a little longer, she may have seen the mysterious man in the sunglasses and cap asking one of the parents to whom she’d given a card if he could borrow it.
***
“Goddamn it,” Graham hissed as he made his way through the crowd.
He’d just taken care of his now ex-business associate and had next intended to surreptitiously inform Meegan that if she didn’t keep her fucking mouth shut, she’d meet the same fate as her husband. But then he’d run into a problem.
Now as he walked, he kept his eye on the woman in the sky blue cap who he was sure had caught him on camera as he’d come out of Zim’s office building.
Shit. He’d made sure to be discreet, worn clothes he normally wouldn’t—jeans with a brown, leather bomber jacket, hadn’t shaved that morning so his face wouldn’t be easily seen. He’d also thrown on a ball cap and worn sunglasses to disguise himself further. He knew where the security cameras were in Zim’s building and ducked his head whenever he’d passed them. He’d been so fucking careful. And now this.
“Fuck,” he mumbled, making several people glance his way as he cut through the horde of shoppers and parade goers.
He followed the woman all the way to Macy’s and when he saw her give a business card to someone, he made his move, asking the person if he could have the card, making up a story about how he’d dropped the one she’d given him and he’d needed her information because he wanted her to photograph his kids.
“Tilly’s Takes,” he said quietly to himself as he looked at the card, paying particular attention to the address.
He watched her as she worked, her artist’s eye looking at her surroundings with great scrutiny. He’d dated a photographer and remembered how well she’d paid attention to detail, which had carried over to the bedroom. He wondered if this woman was that way, too.
He’d thought about grabbing her cameras and running, but that’d only call attention to himself and probably produce some fucking hero who’d chase him down and he’d have to shoot him, then he’d be totally screwed. No, he had her information so he decided to stay in the background as the woman continued working. Maybe he’d make a game out of this, play a little cat and mouse with her. He smiled thinking that could be fun.
When she finished, he watched as she walked to the street side and hailed a cab, getting in and leaving. There was no need for him to follow. He knew where to find her, and he’d be paying her a visit later that night.
***
“Well, we’re pretty pathetic,” Oz said as he sat down at the table full of the guys.
“Speak for yourself,” Quaid retorted. He took a drink from his beer bottle.
“He can speak for all of us,” Boone said with a snort. “None of us has dates.”
“Now, boys,” Mrs. Streeter, Boone’s mother said as she came into the dining room placing a bowl of mashed potatoes on the table. “I’ll be everyone’s date.”
“Fuck,” Boone muttered under his breath. He knew what was coming next.
“Hell yeah,” Quaid answered her. “I’ll take you up on that, Brandy.” He then checked out Boone’s mom as he usually did, hell, as all Boone’s friends usually did. She was in her early forties, having had Boone when she was still in high school, her long blond hair and slim figure always garnering Boone lots of grief from the guys, and Quaid could never resist giving his friend shit over her. “Ouch! Who the fuck kicked me?”
“Language, Chris,” Mrs. Streeter said.
“Sorry, Brandy,” Quaid mumbled. Then when she wasn’t looking, he flipped Boone off.
Funny how being around Boone’s mom turned them all into five year olds.
“I saw that,” Brandy said as she walked back into the kitchen to get more food.
Boone laughed at the look on Quaid’s face. “She’s a mom and a teacher. She sees everything,” he said.
“Yeah, well,” was all Quaid got out before Mr. Streeter came into the dining room.
“You boys not gonna give Brandy a hand?” he said gruffly. Frank Streeter was a huge man and wasn’t someone any of the guys wanted to mess with.
“We offered, Mr. Streeter,” Oz said, “but she said she didn’t want any help.”
“Probably for the best. She gets mad when anyone’s in her kitchen anyway. So, Boone, you don’t have a date this year?” He looked at his son who was practically his spitting image—built muscularly, around 6’4” with caramel colored hair and eyes.
“Nah. Too hard settling on one chick, Dad.”
His dad smiled. “Judith broke it off with you, huh?”
Boone’s face turned red. “Yeah. She wanted a commitment and I just couldn’t give it to her.”
“Thatta kid,” his dad said, ruffling Boone’s hair as he walked behind his chair going to sit in his spot at the head of the table.
Oz laughed at Boone’s dad treating his twenty-six year old son like he was a kid.
“He didn’t mention the fact that she caught him with another woman,” Quaid said under his breath.
“What’s this?” Frank inquired.
“Nothing, Dad.”
“You’d better not be disrespecting women, son.”
Boone shot Quaid an I will kill you look before answering his father. “I’m not. It’s just too hard settling on one at my age.”
“You know when I was your age you were seven,” his dad said.
“I know.”
“But I think it’s good that you’re keeping your options open. God knows I love your mother, but it was harder than fuck to provide for a family at twenty. But look at what it got me,” he said with a smile.
Brandy came in just then and bent to put a couple dishes on the table. Frank slapped her on the butt.
“Hey!” she squeaked out. “What was that for?”
“I just love your gorgeous ass,” he said, pulling her down to him for a kiss.
Boone rolled his eyes as Oz and Quaid chuckled. They were used to this from Boone’s parents and Oz loved seeing them interact. It reminded him of how his parents had been when his mother was alive, and he hoped that he’d have the same kind of relationship someday.
“Frank, can you come get the turkey to put on the table, please?” Brandy asked her husband.
“Anything for you, sweetheart,” he said as he scooted his chair out then got up going into the kitchen with his arm around his wife.
“God. They always make me feel like I’m ten years old,” Boone grumbled.
“Shouldn’t be much of a stretch,” Quaid answered.
“Fuck off, sexual deviant,” Boone shot back.
“At least I get some,” Quaid fired right back at him.
Oz laughed at his friends. He loved that they were as tight as they were even though they all worked together.
“Okay!” Brandy said as she and Frank walked back into the dining room. Frank set the turkey on the table. “Everyone stand and hold hands for the prayer.”
T
he men did as they were told, with not a little grumbling about having to hold hands, then Frank gruffed out a prayer. After they sat, Frank stayed standing and started in carving the turkey.
“Let’s go around the table and tell what we’re most thankful for,” Brandy stated. “Boone, why don’t you start first?”
“I’m thankful that I like normal sex,” Boone said with a smirk at Quaid.
“Oh! Um, okay, son.” She looked at him with questioning eyes and Oz could tell Boone was praying she wouldn’t ask him to explain. She cleared her throat and looked at Oz. “Oz?”
“Ditto that,” he said with a snigger.
Brandy tilted her head to the side wondering at what the guys were playing at. “Okay. Dare I ask? Quaid?”
“I’m thankful that I have an IQ over 120, that I even get sex and that I don’t have a squirrel living on my chin. And that’d be about it.” He looked at Brandy innocently while Oz and Boone whispered curses at him making him snort.
“Oh, you boys are so rotten,” she said with a chuckle then turned to her husband. “Honey? What are you thankful for?”
Frank stopped his carving of the turkey then looked around the table. “I’m thankful for family and friends. For my stunningly beautiful wife of almost thirty years and for my incredible son. But mostly what I’m thankful for is the fact that I, too, have an IQ over 120, that I get sex whenever I want it and that no forest animals inhabit my chin either. Let’s eat.”
With that, he sat down and started dishing food onto his plate leaving the guys to crack up.
Brandy rolled her eyes as she shook her head. “Well, I’m thankful that you’re all here with us today. Oz, you and Chris are always welcome any time, okay? I’m also thankful for my wonderfully handsome husband and my amazing son. I love you both. And since we’re going there, I’m thankful that Frank’s still giving it to me after all these years, but just so you know, I kind of like it when your chin’s a little furry.” She grinned at her husband.
Boone dropped his head into his hand in embarrassment, Quaid nodded in accord at Brandy with a look of awe on his face, and Oz spit out the beer that he’d just taken into his mouth at what Boone’s mother had just shared.
Unbreakable Hearts Page 7
