Okay, Tony’s pissed. He knows Megan, we all went to high school together so he knows her tendency for drama. I get that but he can’t order me around and tell me who I can or cannot talk to. I glare at him as I hear Jude agree, “Yeah, the best idea would be to stay away from Megan Harper for a while.”
Looking back at Jude, I ask, “Why? How serious is this?”
It’s not Jude, but Tony that answers, “Gabby, I don’t even know what the fuck’s goin on here, but I can see there’s a hell of a lot of Federal Agents and Police Officers goin through all their shit. I can only assume this is pretty serious and I don’t want you anywhere near anyone with the last name Harper or anyone who has anything to do with them. Are you feeling the magnitude of what’s up here? No. Megan. Harper. Period.”
“Are you her husband?” Jude asks out of the blue. I guess I can see how he might come to this conclusion since we have the same last name and Tony being all bossy with no patience for me. But still, yuck! He’s my cousin! Tony’s only seven months older than me, but was a year ahead of me in school. He has seven inches on me, almost black eyes to my blue, rich brown hair to my dark blonde but we do share our dads olive toned complexion.
“Fuck no! She’s my cousin, but she’s still a huge pain in my ass at times,” Tony answers as I gasp. “At least she knows enough to call for representation when she gets herself into shit like this,” he goes on, shaking his head.
“You are unbelievable, Tony Carpino!” I say throwing him my dirtiest look. I turn to Jude, “Just for your information, I’ve never had to call for representation before! Ever! But if there’s a next time, I’m calling another Carpino,” I turn to Tony, “got it?” Looking back at Jude, I say, “Paperwork…my things…please?”
“Yes ma’am” Jude replies, gazing down at me with a hint of a grin.
*****
Salt and Pepper, who turns out to be Mac, returns my purse with all my belongings and my gun. He smiles kindly to me and despite him making fun of me earlier, I’m pretty sure if I had met him at say, a picnic, or any happier occasion I would really like him. He seems to have a soft side under his tough black police outfit. I fill out my paperwork and without giving Tony a glance, I turn and strut myself out to my car. It’s a miracle I’m not blocked in with the amount of cars parked in the drive. I walk as fast as my strappy high heeled sandals will take me and start to climb up into my pearly white Tahoe. I can hear Tony trailing behind me and he finally says, “Gabby, stop!”
Barely turning to him, I give him the edge of my tongue saying, “What? What do you want Tony?”
“Stop and talk to me for a second. Calm down.”
“Calm down?” I ask, fully turning to him. “Do you think I wanted this to happen to me today? For heaven’s sake, I was told to stand with my hands against a wall, cuffed, patted down, had to wait for almost an hour because if I didn’t I’d be treated to a different load of shit from you for not calling before answering questions. Am I right?” Tony sighed, tipped his head back and looks to the sky. I go on while waving my hand around, “See, I’m right! I did nothing but deliver a client gift today to be treated to this crazy ass mess. So, drop the attitude Tony, next time I’ll call your dad or Gino, the only reason I didn’t was because it would get straight to my aunts and I didn’t want to worry them. They worry about me enough, I don’t need to add any fuel to their fire.”
“I’m sorry Gabby, but you run your mouth like a freight train and always say too much. I know you’ve never been questioned like that before, but next time, heaven help me there won’t be one, but if there is a next time just answer the questions. I’m ninety nine percent sure you’re clear here, but you never know. Just leave out the fucking commentary,” he basically pleads.
“You’re in business law, Tone, mergers and acquisitions. Didn’t know you handled so many interrogations on a daily basis,” I had no trouble being haughty now!
Tony takes a step closer to me, puts a hand on the side of my neck and leans down closer to me. “Look, I’m sorry. I hated to see you sitting in that shit storm when I walked into the house,” I close my eyes and turn my head to the side. “Gabba Gabba,” he uses his nickname for me softly and I open my eyes but don’t turn to look at him. “You good?”
I don’t answer him for a few seconds and his hand gives me a little shake. I finally look up at him and whisper on a sigh, “Yeah, I’m good.”
Tony goes on softly, “I was serious in there. You do not see or talk to Megan. If she tries to call you, you do not answer and let me know if she tries to come see you. They don’t put together an operation like this for no reason, Trevor’s got himself sucked into some serious shit and I don’t want you anywhere near it.”
“I know, I get it, I get it,” I say, finally giving in.
“I don’t have any meetings the rest of the day, do you want me to follow you home and hang out for a while?” he asks, proving to me I’m his favorite cousin and just maybe his favorite person ever.
“I’m good, Tone, really. I’ve ruined enough of your day. You’ve got a couple hours left. Go back to work,” I answer. “But don’t you dare tell your dad! He’ll tell Aunt Lizzie, she’ll freak and be all up in my business stressing me out.”
Tony looks at me as if he’s trying to decide whether or not to give me what I want. I’m really not worried about it, he usually lets me have my way. “Okay,” he finally gives in. See? There’s a reason he’s my favorite cousin, too. I smile and give him a hug as he kisses the top of my head. “You comin’ to the draft tomorrow night? Dad’s grilling.”
“I’ll be there, I’m bringing a salad,” I inform him.
“Of course you are,” he says smiling and he rolls his eyes at me.
“Shut up and go back to work,” I say while giving him a good hard shove which of course doesn’t move him an inch.
“See you tomorrow, Gabby. Try not to get arrested,” he says, teasingly. It’s my turn to roll my eyes as I climb up in my car to crank it on and jack up the A/C. My hair is going to start frizzing if I stand out in his heat and humidity any longer.
On the drive home I start feeling guilty about leaving Megan, wondering where Trevor is and what in the hell he’s into. I really don’t know why I’m surprised, he’s a jerk but it’s still a surprising situation to be at your high school friend’s home only to find yourself in the middle of a federal raid. I understand why Tony doesn’t want me to have anything to do with Megan right now but I have a feeling this guilt is going to eat away at me.
I pull into my neighborhood, curve around and turn down my dead end street. My chest tightens a bit like it does every time I have driven up to my childhood home over the last three years and eight months. Counting the weeks and days is a different level of depressing that I’ve made myself stop doing. I smile and wave to my neighbor, Martha, who is weeding her front flower beds. My neighborhood is developed with mature trees and landscape. The homes are somewhere between twenty to twenty-five years old. My parents built ours when I was three and it was one of the first in the development so I have a prime lot. I am at the end of a cul-de-sac backing to a lake with a tree line on the other side so I have a lot of privacy in back of my house. The lots are wide, spacious and well maintained by homeowners. There has been quite a bit of turnover in the past ten years, empty nesters moving out, younger people making homes for their young families, it’s a popular neighborhood because of the larger homes and good school district. I push out a breath as I pull into one of my three garages. Hopping down from my car, I trudge through my yard sale, estate sale and Craigslist treasures that I’ve not quite found a use for but couldn’t say no to because of their personality. I’m sure someday I’ll have just the right project for them. Opening the door to my mudroom I’m instantly attacked from the knees down, the tightness in my chest instantly releases as Mia whines and yelps, communicating how much she missed me during the last four long hours she had to manage on her own.
“Hi baby,” I crouch low to gi
ve my sweet little Maltese-Shih Tzu mix scratches and kisses. “Momma’s had a bad day, but I’m home now.” Mia, with her paws on my knees, reaches as far as she can for my face, relaying to me how happy she is and that she loves me more than anything. I stand, she races across the kitchen and great room to the deck door off the back of my house, showing me she knows the ritual we go through every time I come home. I follow much slower and see her dancing circles in eager anticipation of the outdoors. She has business to take care of, squirrels to chase and neighbors to greet, so I hurry myself to the door to give her what she wants. I turn and see the mess in my kitchen from my morning coffee and breakfast, and if I’m honest with myself, a couple dinner dishes from the night before. I keep a clean house without a problem, but being tidy on a daily basis is something I’m still trying to mature into. The arguments my mother and I used to have over my bedroom still play in my head. My dad would say, “Meredith, just shut her bedroom door so you don’t have to look at it. I’m sure it’ll be clean again someday when she takes all her shit and moves out and then you’ll be sad, so get over it!” Such stupid arguments, why I couldn’t just pick up my clothes to make her happy, I will never know. With these thoughts, I grab the remote, turn on my stereo hitting shuffle on the playlist and start to tidy my kitchen.
My mom completely gutted and refurbished the kitchen about five years ago. I lived in an apartment then since I was finishing up graduate school, but she and I had a grand time renovating. She would say, “I don’t need a decorator, I have my Gabby!” The cabinets are all cherry wood, dark brown and distressed with just enough black glaze settling into the grooves. The kitchen, originally U-shaped, was replaced with a long, deep rectangular island the length of the room that houses an extra-large copper apron front sink with five barstools across the front. Across from the sink is a five burner Jenn-Air stainless steel range. To the side are matching stainless steel double oven and an enormous refrigerator. It’s awesome! My mom always said, “Having a big family means you need the right tools to cook!”
I kick off my sandals and toss them in the way of my bedroom thinking I’m just going to have to pick them up later. I hear Lifehouse start to croon out You & Me and set about my task. I do my best to put my day behind me and move on. I’ve gotten very good at this the past few years but I’ve also never been handcuffed, patted down and questioned by federal agents. Thinking of being patted down brings my thoughts back to Jude Ortiz. I haven’t had many second thoughts about men in the past few years. I’ve been set up occasionally by friends, asked out a few times on the rare occasion I put myself in a social situation, but haven’t dated anyone on a regular basis since James. James and I met in the last year of our MBA program. He was fun, nice and attentive as long as we were doing what he wanted to do. He always wanted to be with his friends, watch the game he wanted to watch, eat where he wanted to eat and so on. I thought I loved James, we were together for one year and three months, but my family was not so crazy about James.
My family is big. My family is gregarious. My family is in your face if you are their family. And since I am their family, they love me, they want to see me, spend time with me and be in my face, they saw James as a roadblock to all of the above. James thought my family was overbearing. Period. I did my best to walk that tightrope for one year and three months because I thought I loved James and he loved me in return. Then I found out when times got tough and I needed to focus on me, he proved to be the self-centered jack wagon that he is and broke up with me. This sucked, but other things sucked worse and I got over James-who-I-thought-I-loved way faster than I ever imagined I could. End of story. End of James.
So thinking of Jude Ortiz with his melty eyes, big strong hands, broad shoulders and the list goes on, is a surprise even to me. He has a great voice and when his lips tipped up at me right before I left it was so appealing that I can’t help but think what a full on smile would do to me.
Finishing my tasks in the kitchen, I go to the back door and whistle for Mia. She comes bounding at me like it was her idea and runs straight to her treat jar. “This is number two today, Mia, you only get one more. And don’t try and talk me into a fourth, Lanny said you have to cut back or you’re gonna get chubby.” Lanny is my vet and my cousin’s husband. He loves Mia, but thinks I overindulge her with treats, which is true. I overindulge Mia in about everything.
I walk to my room with Mia on my heels, picking up my sandals on my way and the phone rings. Rounding my bed to get to the phone I look at the caller ID, sigh and hesitantly answer. “Lilly, what’s up?” I ask.
“Yoga is what’s up! Five o’clock. I have reservations for both of us, it should be a semi private class, she has two others signed up with us,” she informs me. “You in?”
“I don’t know,” I say closing my eyes. “It’s Friday and you would not believe my day if I gave you a thousand guesses. I’m beat and was going to curl up with wine and a movie.”
“Gabby, get your ass up and going, you can do your wine and movie afterwards,” she says, planning my night. “It’s just an hour, you’ll have the rest of the night to veg.”
I guess I could use some stress release and I’ve been so busy I’ve barely hit my treadmill all week. “Fine, I’ll be there,” I agree. “I need to swing by the grocery store anyway, I’ll do that on my way home.”
“Perfect! See ya in an hour!” she says, way too excited for yoga. Hanging up the phone, I head to my closet to change, try to center my head, or whatever it is we do in yoga that I can never seem to concentrate on enough to do. I put all thoughts of Jude Ortiz out of my head, I’ll never see him again anyway.
Chapter 3 - You Ask A Lot Of Questions
I should call her. I should really have Mac call her. I have enough to do with the case I’ve been working on for seven months going to shit yesterday. Reading the transcripts from the wire taps from the few phones that haven’t been dropped after the round up has been frustrating as hell. Harper’s cell pinged from his house minutes before we hit his door and we were sure he was there. Since yesterday morning we’ve figured out that he had been tipped that warrants were being served in his organization and he skipped as fast as he could, leaving his cell behind, not to mention his wife and kids.
This should all be enough to monopolize my time, but what’s about to make my fucking head explode is what I’ve read on the transcripts regarding Gabrielle Carpino. She was not exaggerating yesterday when she said she got a bad vibe from Trevor Harper. She doesn’t even know the half of it and from the attention she’s receiving on the wire taps since the raid yesterday, she needs to take extra precautions in a big way. Extra precautions that include a hell of a lot more than carrying around her little S and W 380. I’ve seen a lot in my job, but she surprised the hell out of me yesterday when she threw her mass of long thick blonde hair over her shoulder informing us she was carrying and had a C and C. I would never expect a woman in a fancy ass getup like that to be carrying, especially just going to a friend’s house if she was working, which leads me to believe she carries most of the time. So when I moved in and had her smoking hot body up against the wall and handcuffed, I did what I’ve never done before, something against policy and that’s pat down a woman. We’re supposed to call in a female officer to pat down another female, but fuck me, I did it before I thought twice. And fuck me again if I didn’t feel it in my dick when she shivered under my hands. Mac had a few choice words for me later, but after interviewing her, I doubt she’ll do or say anything unless her attorney cousin makes an issue out of it. I could tell that even though Mac knew it was against policy, on some level he knew why I couldn’t resist. He might be twenty years my senior, but he’s a man and not blind by a long shot. And demanding to call an attorney? She’s gotta to be familiar with the process, most people don’t have their attorney on speed dial unless they are loaded or already in trouble with the law and have needed one in the past. Yes, Gabrielle Carpino was full of surprises.
She’s not tall but
not short, with the perfect amount of curves for her size. And ever since yesterday feeling her body under my hands and her looking up at me with her clear blue eyes, scared shitless at what she found herself in the middle of, I cannot get her out of my fucking mind. It pissed me off enough during the interview to learn how Harper’s comments made her uncomfortable in the past, but I’m fucking infuriated about what’s been said about her on the wire taps. We’ve heard talk of retribution against her now that she knows what little she knows about Harper. Then she threw attitude in front of me with her cousin which was even more intriguing, and if I’m honest with myself, highly entertaining and extremely hot.
Yes, I need to let her know there’s a threat, tell her as much as she needs to know, get the hell away from Gabrielle Carpino and my mind back on my case where it needs to be. As I turn down her street and look for the address on the side of the houses, I’m surprised again. She owns her home, I learned this last night as I ran her background. Not only does she own her home, she owns it outright, there’s no loan or note listed on the property and this is an upper income neighborhood with big lots and large houses. She drives a top of the line Chevy Tahoe that’s only a year and half old, again no note. Her background didn’t say she was married, or divorced for that matter and she’s still pretty young, not quite twenty eight. How in the hell does an accountant slash decorator set herself up like this at the age of twenty seven? Did we miss something on her?
I pull into the circle drive and park in front of a huge ass house complete with an enormous porch on the front with limestone pillars. There are a shit load of pots overflowing with flowers and vines that clearly states a woman lives here and gives a shit. As I exit my truck and walk up to her door, I can’t help but think that Gabrielle Carpino is on the take and somehow we fucking missed it. Or maybe she’s a damn trust fund brat that walks through life with a gun in her purse. I press the doorbell, step back so she can see me through the sidelight windows and wait. Moments go by and nothing. I try one more time. All of a sudden I hear a small dog yappin’ and Gabrielle yell, “Hang on, I’m coming, I’m coming!”
Overflow: The Carpino Series Page 3
