by Debbie Burke
Florentino stood to the side, holding his rifle, still watchful but smiling slightly. Tillman extended his hand to the gardener. The men shook and exchanged a few words in Spanish. Then Florentino withdrew, moving to a new position to guard the house.
Tillman’s dark gaze bored through Tawny. He grasped the back of her neck and pressed his lips against her forehead. His hand felt like ice but his mouth was warm and soft on her skin. She hugged him tightly. He had never felt so good in her arms. She didn’t want him to ever let go of her.
The kids talked over each other, their words tumbling out in breathless rushes. At last, Tillman released her. He guided the children into the house, his big hands on each of their shoulders, as they described their ordeal—being bound with duct tape, how Tawny had shot the intruders, the escape out the bathroom window, the drawing Arielle had done.
Uncharacteristically, Tillman let them ramble. Normally he would interrupt with sharp questions, as he did in court to force witnesses back on track. Now he just listened.
Tawny hung back a few paces with Mimi. “Your dad really knows how to make an entrance. How’d he get hold of a helicopter?”
Mimi looked sideways at her. “Client of Dad’s. The feds confiscated his helicopter ’cause he was allegedly smuggling drugs. Dad got him off and made the feds give it back. The guy said anytime Dad wants, it’s his to use. He takes us up for rides sometimes. It’s pretty cool.”
“Way more than cool,” Tawny murmured, grateful that he’d returned much earlier than she’d expected. But another question still bothered her. “Where’s your mom?”
Mimi rolled her eyes. “She’s phobic about flying. She’ll drive back tomorrow.”
Tawny couldn’t imagine a fear great enough to keep her separated from her own children if they were in danger. She’d tried hard not to be judgmental about Rochelle but the more she knew of Tillman’s ex, the harder it was to stay neutral about the woman.
In the kitchen, Tawny scrambled eggs while Tillman sipped scotch and the kids sat at the counter, still jabbering. She watched his keen, dark gaze moving between Arielle and Judah, piecing their jumbled stories together. She knew he must be running suspects through his mind and strategizing a counter-attack.
Chest thrust out above his round belly, Judah bragged how his pocketknife had saved the day. To Tawny, he said, “Good thing I brought a knife to this gunfight.”
She reached across the counter to fist-bump him and he beamed.
Tawny served the eggs and they dug in, ravenous from their ordeal, except for Mimi who’d disappeared. After a nod to Tillman, Tawny carried a plate down the stairs to the girl’s bedroom.
The door was closed. Tawny tapped and asked, “Want some eggs?”
“I guess.” Mimi’s voice sounded shaky.
Tawny pushed the door open and went in.
Mimi sat cross-legged on the bed, barely wrinkling the spread. She stared at her phone, thumbs busily texting.
Tawny set the plate beside her then started to back out of the room.
The girl put her phone down. “You can stay if you want.”
An engraved invitation couldn’t have been more welcome. Tawny perched at the foot of the bed and nodded at the plate. “Your dad said you like them scrambled hard. Hope they’re done enough.”
Mimi picked up a fork and took a bite. “They’re good.”
Tawny waited in silence while the girl ate.
At last, she spoke: “Thanks for saving my sister and brother.”
Her soft words touched Tawny. “I’m just glad luck was with us.”
Mimi snorted. “Doesn’t sound like luck, not the way Judah described it. He thinks you’re a cross between Annie Oakley, Wonder Woman, and the Incredible Hulk.”
“He’s exaggerating. I never turn green.”
A smile tickled Mimi’s features, the first Tawny had seen. Seconds later, she pressed her palm on her stomach and set the plate aside. “I shouldn’t have eaten.”
“You don’t feel good?”
“Nauseated.”
Uh-oh. Did this indicate Mimi’s suspected pregnancy? “Want some ginger ale? I’ll get it for you.” Tawny started to rise from the bed.
“No, it’s OK. I’ve been sick a lot. The day you came to see me at the hospital, I had diarrhea. I guess it’s the aftereffects of ODing.”
Maybe that explained Mimi’s abrupt trip to the bathroom. Tawny had feared she’d said the wrong thing. Apparently not, thankfully.
She sank down and stayed quiet, suppressing the questions she desperately wanted to ask. Patience. Wait until she’s ready to talk.
Mimi’s cell chimed. She jerked as if stung and grabbed the device, peering closely at the message then faced Tawny. “I’m going to bed now.”
Damn. Tawny sensed the girl had been on the point of opening up but the text changed her mind. She rose.
Nothing to do but wait for another opportunity.
****
“We’ve got to get Alvin to a hospital!”
The idiot ex-con Frank Grand stood blubbering in the tile entry of Steve Zepruder’s condominium. Small red wounds like an angry rash peppered the side of his acne-scarred face. He stank of nervous perspiration and kept wiping his runny nose with the sleeve of his black turtleneck.
Steve struggled to control the anger surging through his veins. All contact between them had to be out of sight of possible witnesses or security cams. This fool could never be linked to Steve. But he’d blown that by showing up at Steve’s home.
Speak slowly, calmly, firmly. “No. You cannot go to a hospital. Every deputy in Yellowstone County is looking for you.”
Frank’s narrow shoulders shuddered with sobs. “I stopped the bleeding on the wound in his side but his eyes are all torn up. He’s blind!”
Steve took a deep breath. “I’m sure it looks worse than it is.”
“I’m telling you—he’s blind!”
“No, you’re telling me a woman and two kids kicked your bad asses. You must have spent your entire prison career bent over in the shower.”
Frank’s mouth screwed up like a toddler before a tantrum. He took a swing. Steve jerked backwards. Wind whistled past his jaw but the fist didn’t come close to hitting him. Instead, the momentum spun Frank off-balance. Steve grabbed his thumb, pulled his arm up behind his back, and shoved him into the wall with a hard thud.
Fast reactions and leverage prevailed every time.
Steve now regretted he’d wasted a favor to secure Frank’s early release from Deer Lodge, where the tech genius was serving five to fifteen for cyberattacks. He was useful for grubby tasks and his idea to use drone surveillance on Rosenbaum was inspired. But his former cellmate, Alvin Jimsen, alias “Crooked Neck,” was 275 pounds of useless.
As Steve held Frank, bending his thumb backwards, face squashed against the drywall, he wondered if he’d gone too far with the last insult. Handling Frank required the right balance of bullying and flattery. The guy wasn’t a hard case and Steve knew the bond between these two cellies was as strong as soldiers in combat.
“I’ll take care of Alvin,” Steve muttered in Frank’s ear, sickened by the greasy strands of the man’s hair that brushed his face. “Just settle down, OK?”
After a few seconds, Frank no longer resisted.
Steve patted his back and released the man’s thumb. “Good. Now let’s get this resolved.”
The man faced him, sniffling and surly.
“OK, first thing—erase yourself from this building’s security footage. No one can find out you were here.” Steve pulled Frank by the arm toward his home office. As much as he hated the thought of that fat ass in his leather chair and grubby fingers touching the keyboard, it was necessary.
Steve tapped in the password that gave him access to security cams, as president of the homeowners’ association. He stepped to the side and pressed Frank’s narrow shoulders until the man sank in the chair. “Both interior and exterior cams. Did you go in the parking garage?�
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Frank shook his head. “Parked on the street. Alvin’s waiting in the car.”
“Then get to work. The faster you’re done, the sooner we can take care of Alvin, right?”
Frank’s posture rounded as his fingers flew over the keys.
Steve stepped out of the office and scrolled through the contacts on his smartphone. His finger hovered between two choices to call: a drug-addicted doctor who could perform an emergency patch job or a gangsta who’d solve the problem permanently.
With the kidnapping plan gone awry, he needed Frank’s surveillance work even more to track Rosenbaum. But had this setback demoralized the ex-con so much that he was no longer useful?
He shook his head, pondering the ridiculous story Frank had told him of how Tawny had gotten loose and shot both men. When Steve questioned him how many shots she’d fired with her revolver, startled realization came over the ex-con’s ugly, scarred face.
The two idiots had fled from a woman with an empty gun. Pitiful. Stupid.
Unredeemable.
Steve skipped past the doctor’s number and instead tapped on the gangsta’s.
****
Tillman came out of Judah’s bedroom and softly closed the door. “He’s asleep,” he whispered to Tawny.
“So’s Arielle.” She glanced down the hall toward Mimi’s room. Light showed under the door and a rhythmic thunk-thunk-thunk sounded from inside. “What’s that noise?”
“She’s on the treadmill. Runs half the night sometimes.”
The sound reassured Tawny. As long as they could hear the girl’s steps, she hadn’t attempted suicide again.
Tillman grasped her hand and started down the hall toward Rochelle’s bedroom. Tawny pulled back. “Where are you going?”
“We’re sleeping in Chell’s room, close to the kids. My wing’s too far away.”
She shook her head. “That’s crazy. She’ll go ballistic if she finds out I was in her bed.”
Annoyance twisted his mouth. “Screw her.” He let go of Tawny’s hand and kept moving toward the double doors at the end of the hall.
She sagged against the wall, legs nearly buckling from exhaustion. Tillman was right—they needed to stay near the kids. But her intrusion in Rochelle’s bedroom would only make an already-bad situation worse.
No matter how hard she’d tried to stay out of Tillman’s family life, she couldn’t.
Feet dragging, she followed him into his ex-wife’s plush suite. She turned in a slow circle, taking in shades of rose, mauve, and gray satin that made the spacious room look like a queen’s boudoir.
Tillman stripped off his jeans and pulled the sweater over his head, tossing them on an antique fainting couch. He came close, resting his hands on her shoulders. His dark eyes penetrated her soul. “In less than a week, you’ve saved the lives of all three of my children.”
She ran fingertips over his sinewy forearms and leaned into him, cheek rubbing his chest, closing her eyes as his arms folded around her, one big hand cradling her head, stroking her braid. All she wanted to do was sleep. For days.
He moved her to Rochelle’s bed, pushing her to sit as he undressed her, then pulled the satin duvet aside and lowered her on the silky sheets.
Almost asleep, lying beside Tillman in the bed of his ex-wife, Tawny thought, this is so weird.
****
Pale gray dawn spilled through the windows of Rochelle’s bedroom when Tawny’s cell rang in the pocket of her jeans, draped over a chair. She climbed out of bed and padded barefoot across the mauve carpet. Caller ID said Zepruder. “It’s Steve,” she said to Tillman.
He yawned and stretched long arms over his head. “Better take it. But I’m not here.”
Why didn’t he want to talk to his partner? She tapped the screen. “Hi, Steve. What’s up?”
“Bad news, I’m afraid, Tawny. Kemp Withers passed away. Gloria just called me.”
She mouthed Kemp died.
Tillman’s brows drew tight in a painful grimace.
She offered him the phone but he shook his head. “Oh, Steve, I’m sorry. He was a good man.”
“Yeah.” Steve’s voice sounded hollow, unlike his normal bonhomie. “You heard from Tillman?”
Tawny hesitated, unwilling to lie. As far as Steve knew, Tillman was still out of touch at suicide camp. “He’ll probably call soon. I’ll let him know.”
“Good.”
She disconnected and gazed at Tillman, lying on his back, one arm crooked behind his head. Shadows clouded his eyes. “I’m sorry,” she murmured as she curled beside him and rested her palm on his chest.
The low rumble of his voice vibrated under her touch. “We made a good team. Kemp waltzed, I would rock and roll. Between us, we kicked a lot of ass.” He squeezed his eyes closed. “End of an era.”
They lay there for a long time, quiet. Tawny traced the prominent veins on his forearm.
Finally he spoke: “Everything’s different now.”
She waited, sensing Kemp’s death had triggered more than sorrow for losing a close friend.
“Zepruder’s finished. I’m pushing him out.”
Tawny propped herself up on one elbow. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“He’s been concealing cash, keeping it from Kemp and me, not putting it in the partnership. And not declaring it as income. The IRS will fry our asses if they find out.”
“How long has he been doing it?”
“Probably years. He’s trained as a forensic auditor. Knew all the tricks to hide embezzlement. The numbers didn’t quite add up but I couldn’t pin it down. Finally figured it out a month ago. By then, Kemp was dying and I didn’t want to burden him with that on top of cancer. I took out a loan on the property here and bought Kemp’s interest in the office building and land downtown. I hope that’ll keep his widow out of harm’s way if the shit hits the fan with the IRS, not that they ever cut widows and orphans any slack.”
Tawny’s heart warmed over Tillman’s honorable core. “That was really good of you.” But even as she kissed his neck, she worried. Because he’d kept secrets from her, she’d unknowingly welcomed the thieving partner into his home.
Tillman went on: “Before, it was always two against one. Kemp and I outvoted Steve. We thought we could keep him in line but now he’s gone too far. I’ve compiled enough evidence to take to the U.S. Attorney. Miserable cocksucker. I’d like to tear his head off and shove it up his ass.”
She heard the scritch of his teeth, grinding. Tillman’s strength matched his rage.
In a flat voice, he added, “He’s screwing Chell.”
She jerked up. “What?”
“They think they’re keeping this big secret. The two of them are working in tandem to get this property. That’s why the divorce dragged on so long.”
“But you’re letting her live here.”
“That’s not enough for her. She wants the house and wants me gone. I’ve told her a hundred times, fine, buy me out and it’s all hers. But she can’t swing it. She should be hitting up Steve for his skimmings. But if they did that, they knew I’d find out he’s been stealing.”
“Does she know what he’s been doing?”
His shoulder lifted. “Doesn’t matter if she knows or not. She’s got no exposure or liability.”
What else had Tillman kept from Tawny? “Does it bother you that they’re sleeping together?”
“It did when we were still married.” His arm came around her and he rubbed his stubbly cheek against her forehead. “Not now.”
She laced fingers through his. “Do the kids know?”
Another shrug. “Probably. They know everything…as you’ve reminded me several times this week.” He grimaced.
“What are you going to do?”
“Go to the office and throw his ass out the second story window.”
She rubbed his taut bicep, hoping he was exaggerating. He was fully capable of carrying out the threat. She prayed he wouldn’t. “Don’t do anything dumb.”
/>
He shot her a withering look. “The last dumb thing I did was marry Chell.”
Chapter 15 – Angel Eyes
After Tawny and Tillman showered in his bathroom, his cell rang. Detective Bettencourt reported the two intruders remained at large. Without a description of their escape vehicle and only Arielle’s drawing of one kidnapper’s face, not much could be done unless they showed up at a hospital or clinic for treatment of their wounds.
Tillman arranged for private security guards to drive Arielle and Judah to school and stay with them for the day. Another guard would be posted at the mansion to protect Tawny and Mimi.
“Who do you think those guys are?” Tawny buttoned her chambray blouse while Tillman shaved.
He looked at her reflection in the mirror as he scraped the razor up his neck and over his chin. “Law enforcement and prosecutors always want to knock me out but I can’t see any of them pulling a risky stunt like kidnapping. Has to be someone who thinks I’m bucks up. They obviously don’t know all my ready cash went to buy out Kemp’s interest.”
“Does Steve know about that?”
Tillman finished shaving and toweled traces of lather from his face. “Hell no. Keeping the buyout secret from him was the whole point so I could turn him in to the U.S. Attorney before he knew to counter-attack.”
Tawny zipped her jeans. “If he’s already stealing from you, could he have tried to score big, demanding the ransom?”
Tillman picked up a hairbrush, frowning. “Yeah, he’s the first one I thought of. But then dismissed him. The thieving little weasel knows I’d kill him if he touched my children.”
A sickening idea flashed into Tawny’s mind. “I don’t even want to say this but…”
“Go ahead.”
“What about Rochelle?”
“Stage kidnapping her own children to extort money from me?” In the mirror, Tillman’s eyes flicked back and forth, weighing, calculating. A strange grimace briefly pulled his mouth sideways. He faced Tawny. “That’s good,” he said slowly. “Very good.”
She’d thrown out the theory but didn’t think Tillman would take her seriously. Yet he had. He believed the mother was capable of terrorizing her own children to get back at him. The thought sickened Tawny.
