“Fuck.” He drives me back to my old apartment where Mia meets me first, Kimmy asleep on her shoulder.
Thank God for the baby, which keeps her from freaking.
“Sit.” Joey whispers as Rose pounds down the stairs and Mia puts my cute little niece down in the bedroom.
When his kitchen spins, I put my head in my hands, which fortunately, are on my knees. So much for the tough detective act.
My older cousin picks up my cell phone and dials my dad. “Hi, Uncle Mike. It’s me, Rose. Sam is at our place. She, ah, slipped on the ice in front of the construction… Huh? No. Yeah, I get it. No. A cut lip and a few bruises… Groceries. Her hands were full, didn’t want the eggs to break. I know… True. Uh-h. No. Joey went and got her. Sebastian’s working in the city. Uh-huh. I will… You’re welcome. You too. ’night.”
I grin, then moan as my lip begins to ooze blood. “Ow.”
“You owe me.” My oldest cousin points her index finger.
“Sure, sure. I’ll be the surrogate mom to your kids. Whatever.”
She laughs but my gullible cousin’s eyes go wide. “No way. That’d be weird.”
“We’re kidding, Mia.” Rose is about to roll her eyes but we all stop what we’re doing when Joey reenters the room with a fishhook.
I almost pass out as he threads the weird looking needle. “You wanna be a private dick? Get used to shit like this. It’s your own damn fault.”
A familiar yellow tabby pads downs the stairs, jumps up on the table, and eyeballs me. Then she gives me a toothy yawn, and meows.
“Et tu, Brute?” My Shakespeare wasted, Chloe lays down, chin on the first aid kit until Mia shoos her off.
“Mrumph.” Chloe jumps up again, so I grab her by the scruff of the neck and put her in my lap, keeping my drink away from her reaching paws.
Joey swabs cold gel over my mouth while my older cousin pours a few shots of Johnny Walker into a sippy cup with a straw. “Drink this.”
Thirsty as hell, my lips refuse to come together but Rose, God bless her, does not give up. “Tilt your head back and I’ll pour it down your throat.”
I do as she says, swallow, and cough. A few more doses later, I close my eyes, ready for stitches and don’t feel a thing.
After Joey cuts the thread, I hug him to me. “Thank-ooh. Weally. I wean it. Woo are the west cousin ewer.”
The man who’s been my big brother for my whole life rests his eyes on me, shaking his head back and forth. “Damn, I wouldn’t want to be you when Sebastian finds out. You sure you called him? Rosey, take a look at her phone.”
I try to grab it back but not recently having had whiskey poured down her throat, she’s faster.
“Yup. Says right here she tried but got no answer. And she texted. Wait a second.”
She glares at me. “A little fall? Really Sam?”
I shrug. “He’s ’orking.”
The last time he thought I was in trouble, he dropped everything to come find me. I need him to know I am a self-sufficient, capable, partner.
“C’mon girl.” Rose helps me to my feet. “Time for beddy-bye. ’Night Joey.”
“Goodnight girls. Don’t let the bed bugs bite. And handcuff Sam to the bed if she tries to leave.”
“Yeah, yeah. We got her. See ya in the morning.”
The stairs seem steeper than I remember and it takes me a while to get to the top railing.
My cousin Josi, who had my room for a few months, kept everything pretty much as it was. Most of the stuff belongs to Aunt Marion so I left them. And, while I appreciate Cookie Monster and Dora the Explorer, I didn’t bring them to start my new life with Suds.
Dropping onto the comforter, I kick off my boots, lean back, and don’t even remember falling asleep.
Chapter 9
Suds
Slate should’ve warned me.
My client, Mykola Ponomarenko, likes to talk politics and drink everyone under the table until two in the morning. No wonder he needs a bodyguard. He parties hard and not in the greatest of neighborhoods.
All things considered, tonight could’ve gone a lot worse. A few locals felt the need to get in Mykola’s face but backed off when I opened my jacket, showing off my holstered gun.
Still, I heaved a sigh of relief when the Ukrainian turned in for the night.
Now, resting on my mattress, I open my messages and recall how I tried to text Sam around midnight. She said she fell on the ice but it wasn’t too bad. The bartender had tapped me on the shoulder and pointed to the sign over the top shelf vodkas.
No phones, no service. No kidding.
In the past, I would’ve insisted but not after what she said about being overprotective. She promised to stay out of trouble, but it finds her, not the other way around.
Her first message says to call her back. Later, she sends she fell on the ice but is fine and not to worry.
Now, it’s late and she’s not responding. The last time this happened, she was stuck on the side of the road in a blizzard.
Shit. I open my app that tracks her phone and calm when I see she’s staying with her cousins.
For a moment, I consider driving home. I could be back in time for breakfast. On second thought, I’d probably wake her up, piss off Mia and Rose, and for what? She’s right. Sometimes I might be a mite overbearing. Fuck. I need to be able to trust her so I can take a few jobs like this one.
So, I tell her I love her, and I hope she didn’t damage her pretty butt when she fell.
She’s fine. Right?
On the fence, I pace for a while then settle down to a restless sleep, filled with my least favorite nightmares.
In the morning, my alarm goes off, and I call her as I stare at the ceiling.
“Suds?” She moans and the bed creaks.
“Yeah. Sorry. Did I wake you?” Smiling, I picture her in the bedroom, hair all mussed, body all soft and sexy.
“Uh, no. I had to get up anyhow, to answer the phone.” Her voice sounds funny, like maybe she had a tooth pulled.
“What happened? Why’re you talking weird?” I get a real bad feeling.
“Prowise, you won’t get ’ad.”
“Saammm.” Bracing for the worst, I sit and take a few deep breaths.
“I had a little altercation.”
“Sugar? Maybe you should start at the beginning. I thought we agreed, no sleuthing.”
“I swear to God, I wasn’t. I researched, had lunch, and on the way home, I was followed.”
“Don’t tell me, your Glock was in your purse?”
“I don’t quite remember.” Her tone says the opposite but I don’t press because right now, that’s not important.
“At least you weren’t hurt.” At the silence that follows, my stomach flip-flops and my fists clench. “How bad?”
“I didn’t need the emergency room. I called Joey. I can take care of myself. Please don’t come home. I’m fine. Really I am.”
Her story sounds thin and everything inside me is raring to drive home but Mykola has meetings in a few short hours. I won’t be able to find a substitute to replace me and even if I could, Slate has only so much patience for this kind of shit. I can’t say as I blame him. He has a reputation to uphold.
“Dammit Sam. Can you promise me you’ll stay at your cousins? Don’t even think of answering the door.” For once, I’m thankful she’s got family on the wrong side of the law.
“Wait. How do you know where I am? Are you tracking me?” Her voice goes up an octave.
Taking a deep breath, I use the tone I usually reserve for old ladies and little kids. “Tell me you didn’t do the same.”
Busted.
“Sort of. Maybe. It’s possible.”
“I love you, Sam, and need to be able to find you in case anything bad happens. I assume that’s why you tracked me, too.” I hold my breath, hoping she’ll admit to what I already know is true.
“Nu-uh. That’s not why. I wanted to make sure you weren’t sleeping around.”
/>
“Seriously?” I glance around my room for my keys.
She giggles. “I was kidding. What? You ’elieved me?”
“For a second. Not funny.” I need to inhale, exhale, and calm the fuck down.
“Sorry.” There’s a long delay. “When are you coming home?”
“I have a couple hours off tomorrow. I’ll see you then.” Maybe I can convince Mykola to do a little sightseeing.
“No, don’t. You’ll sit in traffic the whole time. I’m fine. Really, I am. I’ve been taking care of myself for years.”
“I fail to see how being an analyst in DC compares to being a private dick in Brooklyn.” We will talk later, just not on the phone. “Turn your camera on, sugar. I want to see your face.”
“Ah… I just woke up. I look like shit.”
“Honey, you always look beautiful. If you don’t, I’m comin’ straight home.”
“I can’t. It broke.”
“Sam.”
“The dog ate my homework?”
I chuckle even though it’s not funny. “I’m standing, I’m opening the hotel door, I’m walking down the hall...”
“Fine.” Her image flashes onto the screen and at first, I don’t recognize her.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” I punch the mattress, then unmute the phone. “Dammit, Sam. I want you go to the ER right now.”
“It looks a lot ’orse than it is.”
“I doubt it. How did you let someone get the drop on you?”
“The guy caught me unaware and the ground was icy. I could’ve shot him in the back as he ran, but figured killing him was a bad idea.”
“What did your father say? I assume you filed a report.”
“Ah...”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake.” I throw the phone on the mattress and thread my hands through my hair.
“No wait, listen. I don’t want the police, not yet. But I promise, I will. Let me explain. I went to work and Uncle Vinny invited me to lunch. He said our Anne Gallo is involved in import-export but not the legal kind. We need to stop her. The only way to do it is to find the missing body. We must be getting close or why would someone try to rough me up?
“This happened right after talking to your uncle?” Warning bells go off in my head.
“Yeah.”
“Slow down. What exactly did he say to you?”
“He said we should not be investigating Anne Gallo.”
“And you said?”
“I told him I would think about it.”
“Fuck. Is there any chance Vinny ordered someone to scare you off?”
“I guess… But why?”
“To save your life, darlin’. He knows you never listen to no one.”
“That is so not true!” Her indignant tone makes me laugh but not in a good way.
“Name one time.”
“Ah… “
“Gotcha.”
“No fair. I haven’t had coffee.”
“I swear to God, Sam. Send Mrs. Rossini back the check. We are so done with this case.”
“No way. I am not letting Gallo get away with murder. People should not kill other people.”
“What about Frankie?”
She pauses, no doubt trying to figure out how to rationalize her friendship with the hitman. “He doesn’t count. First off, it’s his job. Secondly, he only murders people who deserve it. Really, really bad guys. He’s got scruples.”
Somehow, we got off topic so I try to rein the conversation back in. “Sam, sweetheart. You no longer work for the FBI. If you’re really concerned, give the Rossini case to them, or the NYPD.”
“I can’t. We don’t have any evidence. I promise, once we find a body, I will.”
“Dammit, Sam. I don’t know if I can do this anymore. Call me back when you find an ounce of common sense.” I hang up and punch the pillows until feathers fly.
She won’t let me protect her and she won’t drop this case. She’s driving me ab-so-fucking-lutely crazy.
She’s texts me back an apology but it’s a far cry from what I need. Hell, what if whoever tried to hurt her comes back?
Me: Keep your goddamn gun in your holster
Sam: K
Me: Text me every hour
Sam: K
Me: Sorry I hung up on you
Sam: Sorry I can’t drop the case
Me: Y not?
Sam: It’s complicated
Everything about her is complicated. But hell, I love her, and when I hold her in my arms, I’m going to fuck some sense into her.
While I’m daydreaming, my phone pings, and at first I think it’s her. “Sam?”
“No, it’s me, Rose.”
“Is she alright?”
“Yeah. She had worse bruises in grade school. She’ll be fine.”
In my youth, girls didn’t come to class with black eyes and split lips but in Brooklyn, who knows? “You messin’ with me?”
“Okay, maybe not that far back, but certainly by middle school. However, that’s not why I called. Josi, the cousin who went back to college? She broke up with her long-time fiancé. To make a long story short, Sam was talking about your wedding and how you wanted to keep costs down? Well, Josi’s friends already paid for a bachelorette party and I took the reservation off their hands for a fraction of the cost. It’s a surprise. All you have to do is bring Sam to the door. Tell her you’re taking her out to dinner, then drop her off with us.”
“When?”
“Next Thursday.”
“Where?”
“A club in the city. I’ll text you the location.”
“Fine. And Rose?”
“Try to talk some sense into her.”
“Right. I’ll get on it straight away.” Her tone says the opposite. What is it with these Brooklyn babes?
After hanging up the phone, I call her Uncle Vinny. “Was it you?”
“Was what me?” He sounds genuinely surprised which makes me feel a hell of a lot better.
“Some guy followed Sam and tried to work her over, right after talking with you.”
“No fucking way.”
“Black eye, split lip. Go see for yourself.”
“Shit. T’anks for the heads up. I’ll see to it.”
“No problem. She’s stayin’ with Rose and Mia. I’ll check in on her as soon as I can.”
Chapter 10
Sam
“Come on, cuz. I want to go home and feed my cat. Pleeaaasse.”
Joey-the-Enforcer blocks my exodus with his legs wide and arms crossed. And, unlike Mr. Clean, he’s not smiling. “I sent Mia to take care of it. You, are not going anywhere.”
He stays put until I walk all the way back upstairs. Sitting at the small kitchen table, I sigh, and log back onto my computer. It’s been like this all week. I actually begged Aunt Marion to let me come back to work but she doesn’t want me in her shop. She says my face will scare away the customers.
The worst thing is how without Suds, nothing is funny, nothing tastes good, and I can’t help thinking I blew it. He’s never lost his temper before, at least not with me.
Despite all that, I simply can’t drop Martha’s investigation. As I make another cup of coffee, I try to psychoanalyze my motives. Why is this case so important to me? Dr. Gordon, my shrink from my FBI days would have a field day. I recall how we talked about my childhood. It wasn’t easy having a policeman for a dad and on my mom’s side, organized crime. It’s no wonder I never fit in. Thank God for Rose and Mia. They were my sisters, my best friends, and my protectors.
Joey, a few years older, could always be called in to straighten anyone out but his presence could and often did, make things worse.
I didn’t have a single date in high school. No one wanted to get mixed up with my crazy family tree. Then, in college, I was too busy. Honestly, I had pretty much given up on ever finding the right guy. When my ex came along, I was desperate. I would’ve believed anyone’s bullshit.
A writer? The next Faulkner? Seriously? I was s
uch a dope. All he wanted was a warm bed and an apartment to screw anything with a clit and two legs.
What has that got to do with finding a dead body? Fuck if I know but if Anne Gallo murdered a man, someone should care? Maybe that’s the crux of it. Even though I don’t always appreciate my huge family, if I went missing, a lot of people would be out looking for me.
As a last resort, I call my friend, Doctor Jenna Jones. “Hey. Can I talk to Jason for a few minutes?”
“What for?” Jenna’s pretty protective of her artificial intelligence application and I totally understand. The stuff Jason can do could get her in plenty of trouble with the law.
“I got a client who thinks she saw a murder but all I got is dead ends.”
Jenna pauses for a moment, then sighs. “Okay, but if Jason breaks into a network without a warrant, it can’t be used in court. In fact, other than your partner, you shouldn’t tell anyone.”
“I understand. And thanks.” I hang up and contact the AI app over Skype.
A handsome, dark avatar appears on my phone screen. Today’s he’s wearing a tie and thick glasses. “Hello Sam. It’s nice to speak with you again. How can I help you today?”
“I need information on Mrs. Anne Gallo of Bensonhurst. Could you send me her cell phone records for the last twelve months?”
“To do so would be an invasion of privacy. Let me first get approval from Jenna.” He blinks at me, then disappears from my phone.
A few seconds later an email with an attachment arrives in my inbox from an unknown sender and Jason’s face pops back onto the screen. “Dr. Jones suggests you print the list out immediately as it will disappear in exactly fifteen minutes.”
I open up the file, check my printer for paper, and then hit send. “Done. Thank you.”
“Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“Not now, but can I call you later?”
“You may. I look forward to speaking to you again, Samantha Russo. Who do I bill for this time?”
“Suds and Sam Detective Agency.” Internally, I moan. I hope this call pans out.
“You’re welcome. Goodbye and good luck with your missing dead person’s case.” The avatar disappears off my screen as I shake my head.
The Dead Gigolo Caper (Suds and Sam Book 4) Page 7
