I couldn’t help but notice he hadn’t answered my question. “Is that what you dream about? Leaving them? Having it be just us?”
“No! God no! I love our gang, baby. I would lay down my life to keep us together.”
I nodded, relieved.
“But it fucks me up to think about a simple normal family and holidays and shit. I don’t want you to think I don’t love what we all have. It’s just that you grow up with these stupid dreams—”
“They’re not stupid. Dreams are never stupid.”
“We can never have that life.”
“Is it what you dream about?” I ask.
“Sometimes, maybe.”
I squeezed his hand, feeling heartbroken. The things he was talking about couldn’t happen on any level.
“Whatever,” he sniffed. “I dream of being in a rock band, too. So there’s that.”
“Zeus—don’t. Don’t minimize it.” I could feel how deeply his desire ran, the pain of knowing things he’d dreamt of could never happen. “Zeus—”
“What?” He pulled his hand from mine and twisted my hair in a finger. “What do you think about putting Odin on drums? I think Odin would be awesome on drums. Thor would be on bass. You could play tambourine.”
“I love you,” I said. “There’s that.”
He looked grimly ahead.
We were nearing the shadowy-looking figures gathered around the fire, which smelled faintly of burning rubber. Zeus nodded a greeting in their direction, and we continued on. I pulled out my phone and found the picture of the accident scene that the beardsman had sent me. We identified the washing machine and the graffiti on the sides.
Zeus took out his phone and illuminated a band of white along the wall. Then he went to the wrecked train tracks and did a three-sixty turn. The man was in full-on investigator mode, seeing everything, feeling everything with his big animal instincts.
I felt such love at that moment, and I hurt for him, too, for all of the pain in his words. Of course he would have dreams that didn’t involve being a dangerous fugitive. I was really the only one of us four who’d chosen this life. My guys were so fabulous and uber-capable, it was easy to forget they hadn’t chosen this.
He crouched at the base of a massive utility pole, sifting through a patch of broken glass. I went and stood near him, just to be by him.
“He came down here specifically to crash it and walk away unseen,” Zeus said. “Because if you crash a Corvette on well-traveled streets, you have people around with phones. Five calls to 911 before you even get out.” He stood up and pointed. “He hit the thing first to test his nerve. Then he spun around and hit the nose under that yellow tag. Probably jarred him a bit. He hits here a final time with less force.”
He seemed so sad. I want to tell him not to give up, that he could have a picket fence, but it would be a lie. He could have all the money and dark glory he wanted. He could have a diamond as big as his fist if he got it in his head to take it, but never a picket fence. Never neighborhood barbeques. Never a friendly mailman. At least, not one that they wouldn’t want to kill.
He walked the scene, lost in concentration. This was a little bit like what he must have done when he was in ZOX—catching culprits. Righting wrongs. Had he dreamed of getting out of the field one day to become a ZOX bureaucrat with a family in D.C. or something? I wanted very much to ask, but I hesitated to, now that he was focusing on the investigation.
“Come on.” He took my hand, and we headed over to the group around the fire.
“Are you kidding?”
“What? They’re the perfect witnesses.”
We drew near to the group of mostly middle-aged men who looked more tired than scary. Zeus asked them about the car. None of them saw the accident, but two of them were in the area when it happened and had heard it. They told him the driver was gone when they got to the car, and they argued for a while about what time it had been—late, but before midnight seemed to be the final verdict. Zeus thanked the group and gave them five hundred bucks. “Get something nice for the group of you,” he said.
“That was nice,” I said, walking away with him.
“If I’d’ve thought of it I would’ve brought more,” he said. “What the fuck do we care? We’re rich bank robbers.”
That night the four of us sat around our mod strip-of-fire fireplace that night comparing notes and making a battle plan for the next day. We didn’t even have sex—that was how consumed my guys were with the investigation. A crashed car whodunit was a zillion steps down from the kind of investigation Zeus and Odin had been trained for, but they threw themselves into it with passion.
Odin wanted us to talk to the ex-boyfriend Nico together. He’d heard from a few different people beyond Diego that Nico had gotten angry when Diego had hooked up with Maria. Odin wanted to get to him before he got wind of our investigation.
So the next day we showed up to his bright new condo building near Venice Beach with coffee and a bag of chocolate-covered donuts. The doorman tried to hold us up while he cleared our visit with Nico. My guys didn’t like that; instead, Odin babysat him with his 9mm while Zeus and Thor and I went up.
Nico lived on the fifth floor, but we took the stairs up instead of the elevator for whatever crime and spy world calculus they liked to use.
“Nice building,” I said. “What’s Nico into?”
“He’s connected with the Borellis. Middle management,” Thor said.
“Does that mean he’s killed people?”
“He would’ve had to by now,” Thor said. “He’ll need to do more before he gets made.”
“He won’t get made,” Zeus said. “Too impulsive. Not trustworthy. Nice, though.”
“He’s nice until he’s not,” Thor said. “Nico’s uncle had a gunshot wound last fall, and Nico was a real asshole about my work. He apologized, but what the fuck.”
“Are the Borellis friends with the Galvanos?”
“Sometimes,” Thor said mysteriously.
Nico didn’t answer when we knocked, so Zeus whipped out his phone. “People need to start answering their doors, man.”
“Who in their right mind would answer an unknown knock?” I said. “If somebody knocks without texting first, you know it’s either a psycho or a Jehovah’s Witness.”
“Or us,” Zeus said.
Thor texted, informing him that we were outside the door with donuts and coffee.
“What the fuck,” Nico said, pulling open his door. His hair was lopsided with last night’s product. He had classic Italian looks, and really, I could see him passing for Latino in the dark—even more so with a little arm bronzing. Especially with the kind of picture Don Galvano’s laundromat had picked up.
“We brought you breakfast,” Thor said, “and a few questions.”
“You just show up at ten in the morning?” Nico said.
Thor walked in with the stuff. “We have Boemer’s Donuts, dude.”
You didn’t need to be an ex-covert agent to know that Nico’s main domestic activity was gaming, what with the takeout containers and couch and TV setup. He had a fabulous view of the water.
“Hey man, this is Ice,” Zeus said.
I nodded.
Nico nodded back at me. “You didn’t come for breakfast.”
“Is it okay for Odin to come up?” Zeus asked. “He’s held up with your doorman.”
Nico rolled his eyes and called down to instruct the doorman to let Odin come up, then set his phone aside. “You should’ve called,” he grumbled.
Thor pulled a donut from the bag and handed it to me—to get the eating started, I guess. “You hear about Don Galvano’s Corvette?”
Nico sniffed. “I heard about it.”
“What’d you hear?” Zeus asked.
“That Diego went on a joyride and cracked it up.”
“Diego said it wasn’t him,” Zeus said. “That somebody made it look like him.”
“Well I’d say the same thing if I crashed Galvano�
��s car. You don’t want to be crashing the old don’s car.”
Zeus eyed him. “Did you? Did you crash it?”
Nico adjusted his sinewy neck in a WTF, did I even hear that right? way. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
I’d seen my guys pull this technique before—the weirdly blunt question.
“I’m not kidding you, I’m asking you,” Zeus said.
“That’s why you came over here?”
Odin walked in.
“Don’t bother knocking, man,” Nico said.
“Did you crash the car?” Zeus asked again.
Nico locked the door. “In what universe would I drive or crash that car? Fuck no. It’s not even a cool car.”
“Where were you Tuesday night between ten and midnight?” Zeus pressed.
“What are you, the cops of the underworld?”
“Yeah,” Odin said. “We are the fucking-g cops of the underworld, my friend.”
Zeus crossed his arms. “Just want to know if you got an alibi.”
“Yeah, I got an alibi.” He pointed at the coffees. “One of those for me?”
“Yup.”
Nico pulled off the lid and took a sip, then he reached over for a pack of cigarettes. He took his time lighting up.
“You gonna tell us?” Zeus said.
“Why should I?” Nico said.
“So we stop bugging you,” Thor said. “So we cross you off our list.”
Nico thought about this. Then, “I was at Handsome Jack’s all that night. Ask Jack.”
“Gambling?” Zeus asked.
“I don’t do that anymore. Just drinking. Hanging.”
Zeus was looking around. I felt like he wasn’t convinced.
“What? You think I took the car to make Diego look bad? Diego Washington makes himself look bad. He doesn’t need help from me.”
Odin exchanged glances with Zeus.
“Seriously, Diego thinks I did this? Is that who sent you?”
Odin shrugged. “You were upset when he hooked up with Maria.”
“If anything, I owe Diego a debt of gratitude for getting me out of that relationship. I have something better now.”
“What’s that?” Odin said.
Nico put his cigarette in an ashtray and grabbed his phone. He fired it up and then turned it face out, showing an image of him with a blonde girl. I took it and studied the photo. She had wholesome looks, like she could be on a milk commercial.
“This is what I got now. Diego can have Maria, man.”
Zeus got a call just then—one of the wig stores, it sounded like. He stepped out onto the porch to speak in private.
Odin eyed me. “What do you think, Isis?”
“She’s pretty,” I said.
“Thanks,” Nico said.
“Not that,” Odin said. “The other question.”
I frowned.
Odin tipped his head at Nico.
I widened my eyes when I realized what he was getting at. “No way. That is not happening.”
“Just academically,” Odin said. “How close is he?”
“What are you guys talking about?” Nico asked.
“Nothing you need to worry about,” Odin said.
Thor draped an arm over my shoulder. “Nico’s not even close. Even I can tell you that, Odin.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Nico asked.
“How do you know?” I asked Thor. Because he was right—Nico was far from my type for watching.
“Instinct, baby,” Thor said. “You like a certain gravity.”
I studied Thor’s face. “How do you know?”
“When I’m, you know, on that end, it’s my persona. I think of myself as a stern statue, and I think you like that better. Once when I was watching I smiled, and it cut the energy.”
I felt my face grow red, but more, I was kind of flattered. “You put that much thought into it?”
“Of course, baby.” Thor nuzzled my ear, breathing hot like I liked. “I put thought into everything with you. All of it.”
I smiled in amazement. “Yeah,” I said. “I don’t like smiley.”
“Is there something perverted going on here that I don’t know about?” Nico demanded.
“Yes,” Odin said. He turned to me. “So we’re looking for somebody with stern gravity. But Don Galvano didn’t fit the bill. Why? Tell me why, Ice.”
“I think this is a bad road to be going down,” I said. “I’m off this whole road.”
Zeus came back in. “What road?”
“No road,” Odin said.
Zeus frowned and headed for the door. I felt a little bad—I didn’t like keeping secrets from him, or for Thor and Odin not to know what he was struggling with.
Odin motioned at the coffee and donuts. “Sorry for the inconvenience.”
“What the fuck,” Nico said. “Call next time. Or maybe just skip me.”
We headed down the hallway in silence and took the stairs down.
“Nico could pass for Latino in the dark,” I said. “With not a lot of fuss.”
“Agreed,” Odin said. “You see anything out there?”
“Nah,” Zeus said. “but he certainly…I don’t know, he went a little stiff when I asked him, don’t you think?”
Odin swung around the rail to the next flight of stairs. “He didn’t feel genuine.”
We emerged out of Nico’s building into the misty February morning, ready to go to Handsome Jack’s. Things were getting very Law & Order now, but I didn’t say that, because my guys hated that show.
Handsome Jack’s was a bland sports-themed bar off the beaten trail; its sign proclaimed it a neighborhood pub. “If you have to say you’re a neighborhood pub,” I observed, “then you’re probably not a neighborhood pub.”
We asked the hostess for Jack, and she buzzed him with the phone on the hostess stand. A big bald man eyed us from the bar. Zeus nodded at him, and he nodded back. Zeus then picked up a menu to study, but I got the feeling he was really looking the place over.
“That’s Len over there,” Thor said to me, indicating the bald man. “High-priced muscle.”
“Huh,” I said.
I felt eyes on me and I looked over to meet Odin’s gaze.
“What?”
Odin flicked his glance at Len.
I widened my eyes. “Stop it!”
Odin slung an arm around me and whispered in my ear. “Imagine if we tied him up. And he’s stern and powerful, but the way we tie him up, he wouldn’t be able to move.”
I rolled my eyes.
Odin drew his lips close enough to touch the shell of my ear, evilly using his knowledge of the little places on my body that always got me hot, and continued, “He’s tied up, and he can only feast his eyes on your skin as we undress you. All that gravity, caressing your skin with his gaze as we mercilessly use your body for our basest pleasures.”
I closed my eyes. I could feel my nipples hardening.
“And you know you shouldn’t enjoy it as a stern man watches,” he continued, “but it’s no use, Isis. Eventually you give over to your pleasure, as you always must.”
“Oh, is that so?” I whispered, feeling awkward at how turned on I was, and kind of scared to even look at Len. He wasn’t even my type for watching, but closer than Nico.
“You know it’s true,” Odin said. “You are helpless to us. He, too, would be helpless. And he would watch you give yourself over to us and to the unwelcome intrusion of his gaze,” Odin said. “The stern, heavy, uncompromising gaze, penetrating you.”
I kept my expression perfectly placid, but my breath sped.
“We would put our hands all over you, and you would shamelessly enjoy it as he watched, helpless as the pleasure builds between your legs—”
I laughed and shoved him away. “You are too much.”
“What’s going on?” Zeus said.
Odin said, “I think Ice would like us to tie up Len and fuck her in front of him and—”
I gasp
ed.
Zeus had him pressed to the wall before he even finished the sentence.
“—we know now that she likes somebody stern and statuelike,” Odin continued.
“We are not playing that. You understand? Do you?”
What was Odin thinking?
“Gentlemen.” Handsome Jack came out in a black ball cap and a mustache to match. “What can I do you for?”
Zeus let Odin down. “I assume Nico told you we were coming.”
Handsome Jack smiled suavely. “That he did.”
“So you know we’re looking into a certain accident. He says you’d vouch for him being here Tuesday night, all night. Though I can’t say I love that he called ahead to warn you. Makes a man feel like he’s getting something rehearsed.”
“You won’t have to take my word.” Handsome Jack turned and led us through the booth- and fern-filled place to an unfinished back room with pipes zig-zagging across the ceiling. The floor was brown, and the walls were painted a kind of hunter green with portraits of show horses hung here and there. Handsome Jack moved around his desk to a computer and hit a few computer keys. “Tuesday night,” he said. “Four feeds. Take a look.”
Sure enough, the screen was split into quadrants with Tuesday’s date and time stamped at the bottom. He pointed. “There’s Nico.”
The footage showed Nico drinking at the bar alone at 9:09:57 pm. Jack sped it up and we watched Nico drink and do things on his phone while people walked back and forth behind him. A few stopped to talk with him.
“How long do you keep your records?” Zeus asked.
“I back up a couple months,” Jack said.
“Jack’s a bookie,” Zeus said to me. “Sports.”
“That explains the big TVs,” I said. And Len, too, but I didn’t dare say his name.
“Is Nico still playing?”
“Nah. But he made a lot of friends here when he was. He still likes the sports.”
“You do a lot of cash through here?” Odin asked.
“Get in the twenty-first century, man,” Jack said. “You think I do cash? I almost never do cash. Strictly PayPal. Pay taxes and everything.”
“What?” Odin said.
Jack grinned. “Don’t you know? I’m a website designer.”
The Most Wanted (Taken Hostage by Kinky Bank Robbers #4) Page 6
