The Steve Williams Series Boxed Set

by J. E. Taylor

  Steve closed the door and leaned his forehead against the wood.

  Dear God, what the fuck was that all about?

  Jennifer bolted into the bathroom.

  He ran a shaky hand through his hair and sat at the desk, forcing a few long slow breaths reviewing the exchange. Every nuance, every unspoken word, every glance in her direction replayed and his stomach burned. Fury filled his bones.

  The bastard came to my apartment, and he has the hots for my wife.

  He stood and crossed to the bathroom. “You have to leave.”

  Jennifer turned from the counter where she was brushing the acid taste out of her mouth. She spit in the sink. “I’m not leaving.” She leaned against the counter, staring at Steve in the mirror.

  “Jenny,” he began, leaning against the doorjamb. He put his arm across the door, blocking her from leaving the bathroom. “This is dangerous.” His low voice bore into her along with his sharp eyes.

  She pushed his wrist out of the way. “I’m aware of that, but I’m not leaving.” Her eyes were just as steady as his were and she walked into the living area and curled up on the couch.

  Leaning his head back, he closed his eyes. “I can’t do this with you here.”

  “Yes, you can.” She turned on the television, flipping through the channels, and stopping on the local news station. Her eyes rose to his. “They found her.”

  He took a seat next to her, his eyes glued to the television. “Are you sure that’s her?”

  Jennifer nodded and her breath hitched in her chest. “Charlie reminds me of the bastard who’s doing this.” She waved at the television and brought her hand to her throat.

  Steve stared at her, processing the information. “How so?”

  “His eyes, they’re similar.” She returned her gaze to the television and the ugly truth hit her like a falling cinderblock. It wasn’t a detached nightmare, something that faded away when she woke until it was nothing more than smoke in her mind. Her visions were real and now she had another name.

  “Aimee,” she whispered and a tear slid down her cheek.

  He put his arm around her shoulder and kissed her temple. “It isn’t your fault.”

  “What good is having visions if I can’t stop them?”

  “I don’t have an answer for you, but with each vision, you’re able to tell us a little more about him. Eventually, Jack will catch him.”

  Chapter 21

  “What, exactly, does Bondino want?” Charlie sat on his couch, his arms extended comfortably over the back cushions.

  “He wants a bigger cut,” Kyle answered.

  “Bullshit! He can take a flying leap off the Brooklyn Bridge.” Charlie stood, crossing to the window of his penthouse. “I’m the one whose ass is on the line.” He glanced at the reflection in the glass. He hadn’t seen Kyle in years and this wasn’t the reunion he’d imagined. It would have been better if Kyle had left after the play last night, but no, Kyle had to be interjected in the middle of the business arrangement he had with Tony Bondino, the biggest mafia boss in America. Kyle was Tony’s personal assassin, so the current conversation laid out more like a threat than a friendly visit.

  Kyle didn’t say a word. He just leaned back in the seat with his arms crossed.

  Charlie turned toward him. “Why did he send you?”

  Kyle smiled and shrugged, keeping silent. His orders were to lean on Charlie, but that wasn’t going to happen. Tony Bondino was not aware of the ties between them and neither Kyle nor Charlie was inclined to enlighten their boss.

  Charlie turned away, his hands curled into fists. “Tell him to pound sand.”

  “You really want me to do that?”

  Charlie grinded his teeth. “No. How much does the bastard want?”

  “Another ten percent.”

  He swung around, his jaw slack and eyes wide. “He’s already getting a fifteen percent cut!”

  Kyle shrugged. “Times are tough.”

  “Bullshit!”

  “Charlie, you’ve got to give him something.”

  “The hell I do!”

  Kyle leaned his elbows on his knees and glanced up at him. “You know I can’t go back to Tony with nothing. He’ll want me to take you out.”

  He crossed his arms. “And what if I contracted you to take Tony out?”

  Kyle leaned back, laughing. “You have a sweet deal here, but you couldn’t afford me, Charlie.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I know more than you give me credit for.” In truth, with one hit, Kyle made more than Charlie did in a year but he didn’t want to rub it in, especially with all Charlie had done for him. However, he wanted to make it clear that Tony Bondino took very good care of his favorite assassin. For ten years, Kyle had been a profit center for the Bondino family with worldwide contacts who had asked for his services. Not one kill ever led back to the Bondino’s or to those who requested the hits and for that, his reputation was legendary. Less than a handful of people knew what Kyle looked like, but no one, outside of the man in this room, really knew whom Kyle was. “So what do I tell Tony?”

  “Tell him five percent,” he said through a tight jaw. “If he wants more, he’ll have to come out here and run the fucking business himself.”

  “I’ll tell him.” Kyle stood and looked at his watch. “I have to head out.”

  “How long are you in town?”

  “A few more days at the most.”

  Charlie nodded and took a deep breath. “Was this the only reason you came back?”

  Kyle shook his head. “Tony figured while I was out here I should pay you a visit.”

  “I’m sure.” Charlie crossed and extended his hand.

  Kyle gripped Charlie’s hand and pulled him into a quick hug. “It was good to see you, Charlie.”

  “Don’t take another eight years to say hi,” Charlie said, patting him on the back. “Seriously, it’s been way too long.”

  Kyle nodded. “I’ll swing by next time I’m in town.”

  Charlie watched the door close and headed in the direction of his home gym, already feeling the emptiness of the apartment closing in on him. A twinge of jealousy skittered through his hard form as his thoughts turned to Jennifer. Steve had no clue what he had and if Charlie had his way, he’d be the benefactor of her attention.

  Chapter 22

  He didn’t broach the subject right away, still a little gun shy from Charlie’s visit and the news story that shook her up. He stood over the stove, cooking a Greek pot roast with a side dish of rotini noodles. “You staying here is really dangerous for both of us, Jen.”

  “Are you going to harp on this again?”

  He turned, staring her down until interrupted by the buzzer. He drained the pasta and set it in a bowl before laying thinly carved slices of meat across the layer of curled noodles. He stirred the simmering wine sauce and flipped the stove off before pouring it over the top of the concoction. He set the dish down, grabbing the wine bottle and a single glass before he slid into the seat across from her. “Yes.”

  She licked her lips as the succulent scent drifted through the apartment and her eyes remained glued to the dinner instead. “Yes, what?”

  “I’m going to harp again.” The pop of the cork accented the glare she sent in his direction and he ignored her in favor of filling his glass with the fine merlot.

  “Steve, please, please don’t do this. Tonight’s the first time in a while that I haven’t been nauseous and if you insist on pissing me off, I’m not sure what my stomach will do.”

  He shrugged and served a spoonful of meat, noodles and sauce onto her plate and pushed the salad bowl in her direction. “I’m sorry Jen, but this isn’t something I can just slough off, especially after he came here today.”

  Resigned to another frustrating conversation, she said, “I know you were upset by him coming by, but if you think about it, it was kind of sweet.”

  Steve choked on the sip of wine, coughing and wheezing, his eyes tear
ing up as the alcohol burned the lining of his windpipe. “Sweet?” He managed to squeak the word out, wrapped in a harsh rasp.

  “Yeah, the candy, the flowers, the concern, that was sweet.”

  He continued to cough and wheeze, wiping the corners of his eyes. Concern scrunched the flesh between her eyes.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Wrong pipe,” he said when the coughing finally subsided and he was able to draw a pain-free breath. He cleared his throat. “Charlie has the hots for you.”

  Laughter sputtered from her lips along with a few stray pieces of noodles. “What the hell are you talking about?” She wiped her mouth with a napkin, meeting his direct stare. Amusement peppered her face, leaving a trace of a smile on her lips.

  “I’m not kidding,” he said. “Did you not see the way he looked at you?”

  Jennifer rolled her eyes. “Oh, for the love of God, Steve, a lot of men look at me like that.”

  Steve’s teeth clamped together. “I know, but they aren’t Charlie Wisnowski and they don’t have mafia connections.”

  Raising her eyebrows, she took another bite of food and challenged him with her gaze.

  She didn’t get it. She had no idea how dangerous Charlie was. He had to find another way to get her to leave, another avenue, and it materialized in a clear train of thought. He dug into his food, contemplating exactly how to deliver the lines. “Did it ever occur to you that he might decide you’re worth more to him than me? Do you have any clue what would happen if he came to that conclusion?”

  He didn’t think Charlie would do anything of the kind. He was more apt to try to seduce her than to have him killed—especially with his greed for money and power, and Steve was the best financial wizard Charlie ever had. However, he wanted to bring the point home and if Jennifer thought her presence was a threat to his safety, she would be more apt to listen to reason.

  “Huh?” She took a sip of her milk and swiped her lips with the napkin.

  “You could kiss my ass goodbye.”

  She slammed her glass down and picked up her fork again, the aggravation claiming the set of her jaw. “You think I’d leave you for him?”

  Steve scoffed. “Did it ever occur to you that he might decide to off me because he wants you?”

  Her eyes blinked rapidly and her fork paused in mid air. “Wh-what?”

  Steve raised his eyebrows and cocked his head. “That’s the kind of guy Charlie is, hon.”

  “He’d try to kill you?”

  He shrugged and took a sip of wine before attacking his meal.

  She finished the progression of food to her mouth and chewed slowly, digesting his words. She swallowed and her eyes narrowed. “You’re just saying that so I’ll leave.”

  Fuck. She called my bluff. “Jen.”

  “No, Steve, that was low, even for you.”

  Steve threw his silverware on the table, followed by his napkin, and stormed across the room to the window. Anger, fear, jealousy all volleyed for dominance and he concentrated on breathing. Breathing and counting. When he reached twenty, he turned back to the table. She continued picking at her food, taking a bite every so often, the bulk of her face concealed by her long hair.

  “Jen?”

  She glanced up and he swore under his breath. Tears caught the light, shimmering on her cheeks and he crossed the distance, dropping to his knee by her side.

  “I know you don’t want to leave. Hell, I don’t want you to, either, but I also don’t want you stepping in the line of fire. Now that you’re on his radar, you’re within reach of his wrath.”

  “What do you suggest I do?” More tears slid from the corners of her eyes. “Give up my career for yours?”

  He hung his head. Anything he said in response to that question would land him in the doghouse. “Temporarily, yes,” he finally said without meeting her gaze.

  The chair slid back and she stomped across the room, slamming the bathroom door behind her. The sound of her retching reached his ears and he stood, clearing the dinner dishes.

  Suffocating silence hung on the air between them for the rest of the afternoon and when he went to kiss her goodbye, she turned her cheek instead. The rattle of the front door closing followed her rebuff.

  Steve stared at the closed door.

  Way to fuck up a perfectly good weekend.

  * * * *

  Sunday was no better. Jennifer ignored him, actually turning her back like an insolent child every time he tried to bring up the subject. He buried himself in Charlie’s financials, plotting the money trail, but with all the aggravation, his concentration level landed in the shitter and he only got about half of what he wanted done.

  Monday morning he stood in front of the door, his hand on the knob. “Damn it!” he muttered and dropped his briefcase on the floor, crossing to the bed and shaking her awake.

  “What?” She blinked her eyes open.

  “I didn’t want to go to work with this still hanging between us.” Steve sat on the edge of the bed.

  “Then let it go,” she said.

  “I’m not comfortable with that, Jen. Actually, I’m not comfortable with any of this now that you’re on his radar.”

  “I know,” she said and exhaled. Sitting up, she wrapped her arms around him. “I’m not comfortable with you working undercover on this case.”

  He stiffened at her words, but for the first time since he insisted that she leave, he had an inkling of how she must feel day after day and he pressed his lips to the curve of her neck. “You know I love you.”

  She nodded. “I love you, too, and that’s why I put up with all this.”

  He pulled away from her and stared into her sleepy green eyes. “Putting up with me doing my job is one thing; I’m paid to be in harm’s way. You aren’t.”

  She tilted her head, her eyes pleading for him to let it go, and he caved.

  “All right, you win for now, but if I get any hint of things going south, I’m going to give the order for Jack to get you out of here.”

  Jennifer inhaled and nodded before offering a slight smile. “Have a good day.”

  He allowed his lips to curve into a smile and kissed her goodbye. The moment he slid into his car, his smile disappeared. His mind twirled around all the weekend information he uncovered in the finances and he sighed. He wouldn’t be able to finish the money trail timeline until next weekend. Jack wasn’t going to be happy with him, but he’d just have to deal with it.

  * * * *

  Charlie leaned against his office door, waiting with a stern expression and a newspaper rolled up in one hand. Steve’s heart lurched into his throat, but he kept his face neutral and offered a nod in Charlie’s direction. He waved Steve into the office and stepped inside, closing the door and tossing the newspaper onto his desk.

  Steve raised an eyebrow and hung up his coat before crossing behind his desk and dropping his gaze to the paper. He sat and picked up the entertainment section, scanning the article Charlie circled.

  A review.

  A stellar review and a grin surfaced.

  “Jenny’s going to be walking on air after this.” He glanced up at Charlie. “And let me tell you, she needs this.” He set the paper on his desk and leaned back in his chair.

  “Rough weekend?”

  Steve offered a shrug. “She’s been sick on and off, but she said it didn’t hit her at the performances Saturday and Sunday like it did Friday night.”

  “Opening night jitters?”

  “I guess,” he said and broke into a yawn. “But beyond feeling sick, the stress of everything is draining, for both of us.”

  “You need a little pick me up?” Charlie asked.

  “I got my coffee.”

  A knowing smile surfaced and Charlie reached into his pocket. “Try a hit of this. It’ll be quicker than caffeine.” He tossed a small vial and Steve caught it.

  Studying the amber colored vial, he watched the powder shift against the sides as he rolled it through his fingers. He
cocked his head to the right, returning his gaze to Charlie’s.

  “Every now and then I need a pick up, too.” He took a seat and pointed to the container. “Go ahead.”

  “I don’t know…” He returned his focus to the cocaine and licked his lips, torn.

  “Go ahead.” This time Charlie’s tone was more demanding, much like when he drew the gun.

  Steve put the vial down on his desk and glared at Charlie. “Maybe I’m not in the mood.”

  Charlie leaned forward. “Maybe we should take a long drive.”

  His sharp stare sent shivers down Steve’s spine, but he crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat. “I’m not playing this game, Charlie. Either fire my ass or cut the shit.”

  Charlie’s musical laugh filled his office, but he was not amused. When he wound down, he sat back in the seat and studied Steve. “Boy, if I ‘let you go’,” he said using his fingers to indicate parenthesis, “you’re not going to be out pounding the pavement for another job. I wouldn’t be surprised if years from now they found your remains somewhere under the pavement.”

  He clamped his teeth together and turned to his computer, flipping it on before he focused back on the drugs sitting there, mocking him. The sad truth was he wanted the rush; the sudden shot of adrenalin he knew would follow the first snort. Reaching for the vial, he met Charlie’s gaze and unscrewed the cap. The cap had a tiny spoon attached and he scooped a small amount of powder and brought it to his nose, inhaling the fine particles into his sinuses. The sudden sting brought tears to his eyes and before he completely lost his vision to the mist, he sucked a hit into his other nostril. “Happy?” he asked, screwing the cap back on and setting the small canister on the desk. He rubbed his numbing nose and sniffled a few times, blinking the burn from his eyes.

  Charlie smiled and nodded. He stood and headed for the door.

  “Hey, don’t you want this?” He held the vial out to his boss.

  “Nope, that’s yours,” he said and left Steve staring at the small jar of coke.

  He swept it into his top drawer, welcoming the minor tingle and the thundering of his heartbeat in his ears. Charlie was right—it sure beat coffee. Hell, it left even the strongest European espresso in the dust.