by Wendy Byrne
Max came along from the side of the building, shaking his head. "Nothing. I think we should go inside." He removed a gun from inside his coat.
She closed her eyes and shook her head. "I'm not even going to ask."
"Good." He jiggled the knob and inserted something he'd hidden inside his pocket. She heard a pop. When it didn't budge, he put his shoulder at the right spot to dislodge the lock. "Don't ask about that either."
She rushed inside. "Mick?" Even while she called his name, she knew the place was vacant. Maybe he hadn't been here after all. Maybe Max had misinterpreted what he'd seen. Neither option made her feel better.
Then she spotted the blood, and her knees went weak.
* * *
As she started to fall, Max rushed behind her before she hit the floor. Her face went pale as her eyes fluttered closed. He didn't take her for the type to faint easily. Any New York police officer had seen the worst of the worst. She was made from stronger stuff than she'd showed in these last few seconds. The fear etched lines into her face, like she'd aged a couple of years since the last time he'd seen her.
"There's blood." She didn't quite pass out but remained shaky on her feet. "Over there."
He glanced where she'd pointed. Sure as hell looked like blood. "But it might not be Mick's."
"It's recent." She gulped as if she needed help to get the words out.
The blood hadn't soaked into the scraped-bare floorboards as of yet. Instead, the blood was setting on top. He didn't want her to be right for selfish reasons. He wanted to talk to Mick and find out what he knew.
"That still doesn't mean it's his." And maybe he'd convince her of something he wasn't sure he believed himself. But he doubted it. If the roles were reversed and it was a family member of his, he'd assume the worst and be scared to death.
"I'm going to call in the crime scene." She started to punch in numbers, but he grabbed her phone from her. "Are you sure you want to do that? You're already on leave—is that going to complicate matters, you being in an abandoned building?"
Her exasperation at him and at the situation showed in the bright crimson on her cheeks. "I need to know if he's okay."
"We're going to find him ourselves." He touched her bicep and felt the jump of her pulse beneath his fingers. "Surely the two of us can beat some beat cops from Brooklyn. Let me call a friend. I'm sure he knows somebody who can get us a sample and cause a lot less drama than the police."
"What do you and your family do again?"
"My siblings work for a place called The Alliance. They specialize in protection and retrieval. They go in where government types are afraid to go. And do a damn good job of it, even if I say so myself."
"That doesn't explain you."
"Ah, me. Well." He smiled at her and hoped it would lessen the worry on her face. "I taught them everything they know."
"And modest as well." She shook her head. "I don't care if you call in the devil himself. I want a blood type. And I want it now."
Less than a half hour later, they had their answer. "You do know that over a third of the population has blood type O positive?"
She nodded slowly. "Yep, but that doesn't make me feel any better." She bit her bottom lip. "I shouldn't tell you this, but Joey Trattner was found dead in a Dumpster in Manhattan right before I came here."
"Should I know this person?" Max watched her eyes. Most people revealed more than they thought through their eyes. The pupils might grow wide in anticipation or grow smaller as they concentrated. It was one of those physiological things that people had very little control over.
"He's one of the kids who were with Mick the night your friend was killed."
"Holy crap. You're right. You're assuming there's a connection." He started to pace as the nerves inside him ratcheted up. "Who was the third kid? Is he still alive?" Suddenly her fear didn't seem like an overreaction. "Let's think about this logically now that we know Mick was hiding out here and that this may or may not be his blood. For one thing, there's a lot of it, but not enough to kill him. There's no trail, so we know that he either stopped bleeding or managed to stem the flow somehow."
"Other than the fact we didn't find him dead, I'm having a hard time finding the silver lining."
"We know he's smarter than Joey."
"That's not saying much." She managed a weak smile.
He held out his hands. It was clear she was approaching panic stage at this point, despite the fact she was a consummate professional. When family was involved, he could understand why she was tunneling into the crazy zone. He'd been there himself on numerous occasions.
"How did he identify this building as being a place he could hang out? Are there other buildings like this in the area? Maybe ones that have started construction but stopped for one reason or another? Does he have any friends who live outside this general vicinity where he might hang out? Let's face it, the kid is sixteen—he doesn't have a lot of options. Who's the girl I saw bring the stuff to him?"
She closed her eyes and drew in a breath. "It's got to be Gabriella. Her father owns this building. He's waiting on some permits to be approved, the last I heard."
"Does he have other stalled projects?"
"Yes, one a couple of blocks away."
"Then let's start there." He escorted her past the construction tape and out the door. "You never did tell me how they found Joey's body."
"I had a trace done on Mick's phone, and it was found with Joey."
Oh hell. She had more than enough to worry about. But if he worked with her, he could find out some things as well and not be hampered by her lack of sharing. Some relationships were all about a little give and take. And if he happened to do more of the taking, he was fine with that.
Keeping what was going on away from his siblings was going to be the difficult part. The last thing he needed or wanted was for Jake and Sabrina to get mixed up in this vendetta against him. Maybe he could impose on Jennings to ensure they were off on an assignment and out of his hair for the time being.
* * *
Gia wasn't sure what she'd accomplished getting hooked up with Max Shaw. He wasn't without skills, but she didn't like having partners, and he was the worst kind. The guy had an agenda. As of yet she hadn't figured out what it was, but sooner or later she would. She had to give him some kudos for being honest about at least some information. His siblings worked for The Alliance. That said volumes about their skill level. Although the place was more mythical than real. If what she'd heard about The Alliance was true, that meant they were more deadly than the Navy SEALs even on their very best day. That meant whatever skills they had, Max had as well. Did she need to know where he got them to get her brother back? Nope. The idea that he could help her get Mick was all she cared about right now. As far as she was concerned, he was a means to an end. And his potential for helping was far better than any friend she had at the NYPD.
"Is this the place?" He pointed to another brownstone in the middle of an exterior renovation but devoid of workmen right now.
"Yes, this is it. Do your magic, and get us in." She pointed toward the door and let him have at it. Partly to observe his technique. Partly to see the set of tools he was using to gain entry. Last time he'd partially blocked it from her view. This time she wanted a clear picture of his expertise. The cop in her was curious while still being annoyed.
With a flick of his wrist he was inside, and she still didn't have a clue. "I'll show you my secrets one of these days, after all this is over, but it's not for common distribution among your cop buddies."
Interesting. He'd answered the question floating around her brain even though she hadn't expressed it. "Understood. Where did you get that stuff?"
"Europe. Specially made tools by a man you wouldn't want to meet up with."
"You're a thief?"
"Nope. It's a long story that maybe I'll tell you about one day. For now, all you have to know is that the three of us are fine, upstanding citizens of the state of New York and
have been since we came here. I make a boatload of money on the stock market, but I don't swindle or defraud any of my clients. In fact, I turn away more people than I take on."
There was so much more to his story, and she couldn't even imagine what he'd done in his past life, but somehow she still believed he and his siblings were on the up-and-up. Call her naïve, but that was how she read him. If the real target was Max, whoever was after him might have followed him from when he lived in Europe. Although she supposed it could be a jealous boyfriend or husband of one of the many women he'd flirted with since he'd lived in New York. Certainly his clients were more than happy with him. Which might be interesting fodder for a case at some point, but not when the main objective was to ensure her brother's safety and make sure he didn't get involved with whatever was going down with the Shaw family.
"My brother had to have help getting inside. Maybe Gabriella let him in somehow." She tried to think of a naïve sixteen-year-old boy and couldn't imagine he would know how to break in. He'd gone off track for a while there, but she had to believe he hadn't developed breaking and entering skills along the way.
"If what you say about him is accurate—and before you give me that evil eye, I don't have any reason to believe it's not—I can't imagine he would be able to get in without a key. This place is locked good and tight. Even I had a bit of trouble getting through the lock." He had the audacity to smile then, and she knew why lesser women might find his type intriguing.
She knocked on the door before they entered. "Mick, it's me, Gia. Are you in there?" Her breath caught in her chest as she waited for some word. Anything would work, but quietness surrounded her. Damn. She was hoping…but knew better. Nothing was ever that easy.
"Let's go inside and see if he's been here." Max led, the gun she'd overlooked earlier making its presence known once again. "Mick, we're trying to help you."
Gia couldn't decide if there was truth in his proclamation or a load of BS, but either way, she was happy he was there. Even to her, that concept seemed odd. He did serve a purpose though. She'd have to jump through numerous hoops and kowtow to the powers that be to get this far, and even then they might have refused to give in to her request or kept her out of the loop because of the family connection. For the time being, she'd accept his presence, as it was a means to an end and a necessary evil.
She shook her head. "He's not here. It doesn't look like anyone's been here."
"Maybe we should pay Gabriella a visit."
"Wait a minute. You didn't watch her break into my house. You were in my house when she broke in. You were inside when she took things out of Mick's room. What did she take? What else do you know?" She pushed him in the chest. She'd been taken to the limit today, and his nonsense wasn't helping.
He held up his hands. "You're right. But in the end, I gained important information. She stopped at a convenience store—I'm assuming to get him some food—and picked up some clothes for him that she threw into a bag."
"I'll wait for her after school."
He grasped her elbow. "Oh no you don't. I'm in on this too. I led you to where your brother was hiding. It's not my fault someone found him before us. Besides, I come in handy for a multitude of reasons."
"I don't—" Her phone rang before she could shut him down. If anybody talked to Gabriella, she would—on her own. She alone would figure out what had happened over the last twelve hours. He had no place in it. Not on her watch.
"Detective Collini." She glared at him as she answered the phone.
"Hey, Gia. It's Dave. I want to give you a heads-up. They're headed over to talk to Mick about that Joey kid's murder. They found the murder weapon, and it looks like Mick's prints are on it. Dumb and Dumber are on their way over to your house now."
She sucked in a breath. Her fingers trembled even as she fought for control. But the concept of regulating her emotions seemed elusive. She had to have heard that wrong. No way. This whole thing was headed downhill at lightning speed.
CHAPTER TEN
"What in the hell is going on?" Max took one look at her and knew something had happened.
"I need to get home." She mumbled as she race-walked away.
"I'll come with you. I know you're Ms. Tough Chick, but you don't look so tough right now." In fact, she looked perilously close to some kind of breakdown. Going without sleep, getting stitches, losing blood, not finding her brother—all were taking their toll on her.
She straightened her shoulders as they approached her home. An unmarked squad car pulled to the curb. "They're here already," she whispered.
"Who?"
"Dumb and Dumber. They've come to arrest my brother for Joey's murder."
"I'll stick around and run interference for you."
"I'm a big girl. I can handle those two morons." Her eyes shifted toward his but quickly shifted away.
"I'll stick around all the same. If nothing else, I'll be a witness and swear they got their broken arms from a fall down the front steps."
A laugh burst through her lips. "You got my back, huh?" She eyed him. "That makes me think you want something in return."
He shrugged. "Anything's possible."
"Detective Collini, we're here to talk to your brother," the smaller one of the two said.
"He's not home."
The taller one smirked. "When do you expect him? School should be out by now. Oh, that's right—we called and found out he hasn't been to school. Do you know anything about that?"
She folded her arms across her chest. "They must have been mistaken."
"Oh yeah, that happens all the time, doesn't it?" They were doing a tag-team approach, so the smaller one spoke this time.
"Poor kid didn't stand a chance with a piss-poor mother like you."
Max grabbed her arm as she started to move toward them. He didn't know if this was how they always operated, but it was clear their intent was to bait her into doing something stupid.
She blew out a breath and shook off Max's hand. "I said he's not here, and he isn't. That's all I've got to say."
"We've got a warrant for his arrest." The larger one spoke again. Based on the vibe Max was getting, that guy might be the Dumber part of the equation.
"I'm sure you do, since you like to fabricate evidence. Now get back in your car and get a search warrant. But that won't help you, because he's still not here."
"You probably put him on a plane to Italy," Dumb said. "Isn't that where you're from? You do that, and you could be charged with harboring a fugitive. You could lose your job and end up in jail."
She clapped her hands. "Congratulations. You've managed to remember a small part of the criminal statutes. Much better than your usual fumbling around."
"You won't be so high and mighty when you're both behind bars."
She shooed them away with a flick of her wrist. "You go on now. I'm sure the ladies at the strip club are waiting for you."
Max was surprised the two went back into their vehicle and pulled away. On the way, they mumbled something about coming back later, but she didn't seem to take their threat seriously.
"I've never met them before, but it seems like the Dumb and Dumber label fits them perfectly."
"Thanks for sticking around. I needed you to keep me from going all Sarah Connor from the Terminator movies on them."
He laughed. "I might have paid good money to see that, but landing in jail wouldn't be good for finding your brother."
"They'll leave me alone for a couple of days. Maybe I can find Mick by then and straighten this whole thing out." She avoided looking at him. "Or maybe we should concentrate on keeping you safe. Are you sure you don't want me to call in some protection?"
"Trying to get rid of me, Detective?"
"Not at all. It's been a long day, and I think it would be good if you didn't stay at your place. Things are heating up, and I don't want to get called in on a homicide investigation involving you."
"I assure you, if that happens, I won't be the victim."
"I've learned there is no such thing. I'm confident but realistic at the same time. I know when to back off and when to put on the pressure. Nothing wrong with that. It's saved me more times than I can say, but it also means things can get hairy a time or two along the way."
"Well, Mr. Fancy Pants, if you want to hang with the big boys, you'd better lose a bit of the machismo."
"Mr. Fancy Pants?" He chuckled.
"It seems fitting, since that's all you seem to wear." She chewed her lip, as if reluctant to continue her train of thought. "I can't help but wonder why."
"Why I always wear suits?"
"Yep. It seems like you might be trying to prove something." She shrugged, as if to lessen the harshness of her words.
"Wow, deep thoughts today, huh?" He made light of her observation, but he couldn't help but let it sink inside his head. Part of him had to wonder if she'd struck on something he hadn't considered before. "What's the plan for tomorrow?"
She shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe you go to work, make more money than you could possibly need."
"That's the goal."
"Try not to get killed."
"I didn't know you cared." She gave him the finger and walked inside her house. "Did you just give me an obscene gesture?"
"Thought it might keep you from camping out on my doorstep again."
"I'm not that easily dissuaded."
"I kind of figured that." She gave him an exaggerated sigh. "You might as well come in and make sure no one takes some random potshots at you. I'd hate to think a stray bullet or two might break one of my windows."
"As long as you have your priorities straight." He ushered her inside with a hand at the small of her back. "You got some food while we discuss strategy?"
She turned, placed her hands on her hips, and glared. "You're pushing it." Her facial expression softened as she waved her hands in his direction. "I've got some leftover spaghetti and meatballs. It's not what you're used to at Fresco in Midtown, but I do okay. You're welcome to stay. I have plenty."
