That’s when I felt it. A twitch. Her soft finger moving just a bit. I stop mid-word to study her. Nothing. After a breath, I continue singing, but pay special attention to her fingers. “When that fog horn blows, you know I’ll be comin’ home.” Another twitch. I keep singing. By the end of the song, her entire hand moves, so I start over.
“Don’t quit your day job.” A hoarse, weak voice exits Lani’s tiny body.
“Lani?” I gasp, turning to look at her beautiful face.
“Hi,” she squeaks.
“Oh God. You’re awake,” I utter, my hands cradling her face. “Wait, I need to get a doctor.” Bolting out of my chair, I run toward the door, grabbing the doorjamb to stop myself. “Someone, come quick. She’s awake!”
Doctors and nurses come running into the room, checking her vitals and reflexes. I stand on the outside and wait. She watches me as they poke and prod her, a weak smile on her face. “Holy shit, she’s awake?” a squeak comes from behind me.
“Just a few minutes ago,” I answer Taryn, who’d left to go to the cafeteria.
Standing next to me, she puts her head on my shoulder and cries. I take the coffees out of her hands, setting them on the nurse’s desk. Placing an arm around her, we both watch as the doctors check over Lani.
“You can come in now,” a nurse says as all but one of the doctors leave. “Just take it easy on her, she needs to rest.”
“Ohmigod, Lani,” Taryn sobs, running past me. “What the fuck!”
“I love you too,” she croaks, causing Taryn to sob-giggle.
“Hey, darlin’, welcome back.”
“How long have I been out?”
“It’s almost Christmas,” I tease. Her eyes go wide in panic, the blood draining from her face. What was I thinking, making a joke? “No, I’m kiddin’,” I assure her. “About a week.”
“My head feels like a lead weight.”
“Take it easy,” I warn. “You still need to recover.” Moving to the other side of the bed, I place my hand on hers.
“Doctor said I’ll be here another few days, then I can go home,” Lani says, yawning.
“You need rest,” Taryn says, motioning with her eyes toward the door. “We’ll come back later.”
“Brody, please stay?” she whimpers, her tiny fingers wrapping around my index finger. Leaning over, I place a soft kiss on her knuckles.
“I’m not goin’ anywhere,” I breathe as she closes her eyes. “Why don’t you go get some sleep, then come back with Dominic? I’m sure he’ll be thrilled she’s awake,” I insist as I sit in the chair beside Lani’s bed.
“Okay. I’ll be back for dinner,” Taryn says as she exits.
I haven’t slept in days and the excitement from her waking is taking a toll on me. Placing my head on her bed, I vow to close my eyes just for a minute.
A HAND CARESSES my hair as my eyes open. A smiling Lani looks over at me. “How long have I been sleepin’?” I ask, lifting my head.
“I’m not sure. I just woke up a few minutes ago.”
Stretching, I try to work the kinks out from my uncomfortable slumber. “How do you feel?” I ask mid-stretch.
“Sore. Tired. Hungry,” she murmurs. “Brody, can I ask you something?”
“Sure, baby. Anythin’.”
“How did you find me?”
Sitting back down, I hold her hand. “I had help from the FBI. They had surveillance on the bank.”
“I didn’t want to do it,” she blurts out, her bottom lip trembling.
“Do what, darlin’?”
“Armond told me if I didn’t get him the money, he was going to kill Taryn. He showed me pictures of his men tailing her and Dominic,” she says, her nostrils flaring. “Armond stashed a change of clothes and a wig in a bathroom stall at the bank,” she whimpers.
“I know. After everyone realized you weren’t in there any longer, they ran facial recognition on every female who left the bank. We saw you get into a silver Ford.”
She sighs. “I don’t care about the money. I didn’t want him hurting Taryn.” Stopping, she reaches out to touch my face and I lean in so she can. “Brody, I thought you were dead.”
“I told you the only thing that could stop me from protecting you was a bullet. Never said it would kill me.”
“You were so pale and lifeless. Then they dragged me away, I didn’t know . . .”
Taking her hand, I kiss the back of her palm. “I’m here. You’re here. We’re here, together,” I assure her.
“I was so scared. I thought he was going to kill me,” she says, a sob escaping her throat.
“Baby, it’s okay. He’s been arrested and is behind secure bars. He’ll never see the light of day again.”
“They caught him?” Not wanting to tell her I had the opportunity to put a bullet in his head and didn’t, I nod. “He’s really in jail?”
“Guarded twenty-four seven,” I confirm.
The look of relief that crosses her face makes my heart swell. But it’s short lived. “I’m going to have to testify, aren’t I?” she asks.
“Let’s not rush into anythin’,” I say, trying to calm her nerves. “It’s months away. Let’s just focus on gettin’ you better.”
I STEP OUT for coffee and my phone rings. “Russell,” I answer, not bothering to look at the screen.
“Yes, hi. Is this Brody Russell?” a deep, masculine voice asks.
“Speakin’.”
“My name is Carter Beckett. I’m the Assistant District Attorney for the State of New York. Do you have a minute?”
“What do you need?”
“As you know, Armond Castillo is in custody. I think it might be in Delani’s best interest if we place her into protective custody until the trial.”
“I don’t think that’ll be necessary,” I start to argue, but he cuts me off.
“I insist. His network runs deep. I’d be much more comfortable if I knew where she was. Without her, my case is dead in the water.” I pinch the bridge of my nose with my good hand, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. I don’t want agents staying with her, but I tend to agree with the theory behind what he’s saying.
“What if I talk to the FBI, see if I can get a safe house?”
Silence stretches across the line for several seconds. “That may work,” he admits. “I could put some undercovers outside the house.”
“I’ll be there with her too. Between Travis gettin’ killed and everythin’ with Lani, I took some time off.”
“That’s understandable,” he says in agreement. “Sorry about your friend.”
“Thanks,” I mumble.
“Okay, you have my number. Once you work everything out with the FBI, let me know the address so I can schedule the officers.”
“Sure. When’s the trial?” I ask, wondering how long Lani will have to be in a strange apartment.
“He’s been arraigned, which is good. His lawyers are trying everything they can, from motions to suppress to motions to dismiss. I’m trying to push the trial date back as far as I can to give Delani time to heal. As of now, it’s scheduled for the end of next month.”
“That’s good. That’s almost two full months.”
“Yes, but that could change. Since Armond is remanded, the defense may try to move up the trial. I’ll keep you in the loop.”
“Okay, thanks.” I get off the phone and call Dallas on the number he gave me in case of emergencies. After speaking with him a few minutes and explaining the circumstances, he comes up with a plan. And the perfect safe house. Right near Taryn.
Brody
FOUR MORE DAYS in the hospital and Lani’s been given a clean bill of health. She can’t move around much from her multiple injuries, but she’s able to walk on her own. The doctor said she can leave this afternoon.
“Hey there, darlin’,” I say, walking into her room. Taryn’s sitting on a chair braiding Lani’s hair.
“Hi,” she sighs.
“I know you’re anxious to get out of
here, but there’s somethin’ I need to tell y’all.”
“What?” Taryn asks mid-braid.
“I just got off the phone with the District Attorney. He wants Lani to stay at a safe house until Armond’s trial. That piece of crap has too many associates who may try to silence her,” I reveal. Lani’s shoulders sag. With the amount of trauma and heartache this poor girl’s suffered, there’s nothing I wanted more than to take her to her own apartment—her own bed. But it’s just too dangerous.
“I understand,” Lani mumbles, playing with her fingers. She tries to hide her disappointment, but her face falls after the last syllable. My heart sinks. This is killing me.
“I managed to make sure we’re still in the city, so you’re close to Taryn. We’re just gonna have to be careful on who can come over and when.”
“That’s good, right, Delani?”
“I guess,” she murmurs. This version of Lani, this sad and broken version, is breaking my heart. I want my strong, sassy girl back. She needs time—time to come back to me—and that’s something I have plenty of.
IT’S BEEN TWO weeks since we got to the safe house, and Lani’s been despondent and static since we walked through the front door. Even though Armond is behind bars, there’s still a long trial to eventually get through. All day long, she mopes around the house in her pajamas. I’ve tried giving her space and hovering, but nothing’s working. Even Taryn hasn’t been able to get through to her.
“Hey, baby. You hungry?”
“No, not really,” she mumbles.
“You’re always hungry. Why don’t I go pick up a pizza from that place around the corner you like?”
“Sure, whatever.” Her eyes are glued to another episode of Friends. At least Netflix is keeping her entertained. On a positive note, she’s dressed today. That seems like progress.
“I know you really don’t like this apartment. We’ll be back at your place real soon,” I say, kissing the top of her head. “I’ll be back in a little while.”
Picking up my wallet from the hall table, I walk out the door, locking it behind me. I know Armond is in prison, but I’m not taking any chances. When he’s sentenced and in a more secure facility, I’ll breathe a little easier.
Two blocks from our safe house is a damn good pizza place. That’s one thing I can really get used to here in New York City. That, and bagels. I’ve never had one so tasty.
I order a pie and wait. Everything here is so damn fast, I don’t know if I could get used to the pace. Sitting in the pizzeria, I watch people as they walk by. Couples holding hands, some with little kids, and I can’t help but want to share that joy with Lani one day. She’d make a fantastic momma.
“You waiting on a pie?” an older guy behind the counter asks.
“Yessir, with onions and extra cheese.”
“That’ll be twenty-fifty,” he says with a grunt.
I pay the man, then stroll back toward the apartment. As noisy as the city is, I enjoy the sights and sounds. I just don’t know if I could live here on a permanent basis. I wonder if Lani would want to live in Texas. I don’t want to put the cart before the horse, so I push the thought out of my mind.
A flower stand comes into view, the cart overflowing with beautiful colors and all different types. I don’t know shit about flowers, but I pick the biggest, fullest bouquet and pay the woman, hoping they will help brighten Lani’s day.
I take the steps to the apartment two at a time and wrestle with the key in the lock. As I open the door, I call out, “Lani, I brought you a surprise.” Walking into the kitchen, I put the pizza down and find a vase to put the flowers in. Centering the vase on the kitchen island, I call out again, “Lani?”
Turning the corner, I stroll through the living room. No Lani. My anxiety goes up a notch. I check the bedroom and bathroom. No Lani. My body shakes, my nerves getting the better of me. Where could she be? Coming back into the kitchen, I notice a folded piece of paper by the coffee maker. Opening it, I recognize her handwriting.
Brody,
I’m sorry I couldn’t do this in person, but I know you’d try to talk me out of it. Seeing the way you’ve been looking at me these past couple weeks . . . it’s broken my heart. I know you blame yourself, but it’s not your fault. I don’t blame you for what happened, and I never will. But knowing I can’t give you what you need tears me apart. I’m damaged. Broken. A shell of my former self. I don’t know if I’ll ever be right again, and I don’t want you to wait for me. You deserve a woman who can give you everything you desire and more, and I can’t. You’ll always be in my heart.
Love always,
Your Lani
I look around. Everything that was hers is gone. There’s nothing left of her. No, this can’t be happening. Grabbing the vase full of sunflowers, I hurl it across the room, smashing it against the door. “Fuck!”
Shit, I need to focus. I pace around the room, trying to think. She couldn’t have gone far. I’ve only been gone about half an hour. Squeezing my temples, I rack my brain for anything she may have mentioned and come up blank. I don’t even know where to begin to look, I’m so out of my depth. Fuck, I wish I had my truck here.
Grabbing my keys, I run out the front door and flag down a cab. I give the cab driver the address to her apartment—the first place I think she would go—and he zips off into traffic.
Five minutes later, he pulls up in front of her place. “Stay here, I’ll be right back,” I yell to the cabbie as I fly out of the backseat. Bounding up the stairs, I pound on her front door. “Lani! Lani, are you here?”
“She was,” an elderly woman says from an open window above me.
“Do you know where she went?”
“Sorry. She had a couple bags with her, though. Hope that helps.”
Fuck. Not really. “Thank you, anyway.” Shit. Where else could she be? Pulling my phone out of my back pocket, I dial Taryn. Maybe she knows where she is.
“Hello,” she answers.
“Taryn, it’s Brody. Have you seen Lani?”
“No,” she squeaks.
“Taryn, don’t lie to me,” I say, low and controlled.
“Shit,” she whispers. “She’ll kick my ass if she finds out I told you.”
“Told me what?” I ask, getting back in the cab.
“I really shouldn’t tell you,” Taryn murmurs into the phone, her voice hesitant.
“Taryn! Tell me what,” I shout, my temper getting the better of me.
“Where to now, buddy?” the cabby asks, and I put a finger up to silence him.
“Taryn!”
“Brody, I can’t,” she whines. Fuck, I need to change tactics.
“Buddy,” the cabby repeats.
“Give me a fuckin’ minute,” I warn him. Turning my attention back to Taryn, I say as sweet as I can, “Please, Taryn. I love her. I need her. She’s hurtin’ and I need to be there for her.”
Silence stretches across the line, then Taryn speaks. “She’s on her way here,” she says on a sigh.
“Give me the address.”
“Brody, she’s scared. She doesn’t think she’s worthy of anyone’s love after everything she’s been through. She’s been lost inside her head, thinking about all the worst possible scenarios.”
“She’s bein’ ridiculous,” I argue, frustrated.
“Yeah, I agree. But she doesn’t see it that way. If I give you the address, you need to promise me something.”
“Anythin’,” I blurt out.
“Promise you’ll love her. No matter what.”
“That’s easy. I already do.”
“Buddy, the address,” the cab driver prompts.
“Yeah, I’m gettin’ that,” I shout back to him. “Taryn, the driver’s gettin’ pissy. What’s the address?”
“And you won’t hurt her.”
Sighing, I utter, “I’ll be the best man I can possibly be. The address.”
“Park Avenue, between Ninety-First and Ninety-Second.”
I repeat
the names to the cab driver, giving him the street address. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. Do not let her leave,” I plead as the driver hits the gas.
“I’ll try. I’ll leave the door open.”
The cab driver maneuvers through the streets like Mario Andretti. After making one sharp turn after another and almost hitting a cyclist, he pulls up in front of Taryn’s apartment. I throw a couple twenties at him and sprint through the door. “Lani! I know you’re here. Where are you?” I burst through the foyer, finding both of them in the kitchen. As soon as Lani sees my face, hers morphs into shock and she seethes, “You need to leave, Brody.”
“I’ll leave you two alone,” Taryn murmurs before slinking off out of sight.
“That’s not going to happen, darlin’,” I say, ignoring Taryn and stepping toward Lani. Her lips in a tight line, she studies my face.
“Fine, then I will.” Without so much as a look back, she walks down the hallway and into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. The click of the lock tells me she’s not coming out anytime soon.
“Lani, please come out,” I implore through the door.
“I say go away,” she shouts, but there’s no emotion behind her words.
I lean against the wall next to the door. “Just come out and talk to me. That’s all I want.”
“No.”
“I promise, just talk to me. If after I say what I need to say you want me to leave, I swear on my momma’s life I will,” I assure her.
“Brody, I can’t do this,” she pleads. Her cracking voice rips my heart out through my chest. I need her to understand how much I love her—need her.
“Yes, you can. Just come out,” I insist, my eyes fixed on the center of the door. The longest minutes of my life go by, then the click of the lock whips my head toward the door knob.
She exits the bathroom a different person. Her mood flipped a switch, her face impassive but determined. She wipes a stray tear from her cheek with the back of her hand.
When the Storm Ends Page 21
