She lifted her head and watched him for a few seconds, searching his face before offering a tentative smile and then turning to walk through the door. It swooshed shut behind her, silent except for the loud click of the automatic lock.
…
Teague dropped his bag on the floor of the Elliott apartment with a thud, heading straight to the fridge and grabbing a beer. He popped the top and gulped half of it down in one long chug. The icy liquid slid down his throat and landed in his gut with the promise of oblivion just within reach with the help of a few more of the tall ones. The apartment was quiet and empty. He’d become used to Risa playing music in a constant loop on her iPod and the round-the-clock flow of guests that seemed to appear on the doorstep whenever she was in residence. Even his DC place had seemed cold and overly large without her being there, and he’d spent most of the last week at the office burying himself in work.
He missed her. His only consolation was that it would pass once he got used to her being gone. He’d been fine before and he’d get there again. He compensated by keeping company with the TV or the radio, but the constant ache in his chest was harder to relieve. Sleep, when it came, was the only respite. But this morning he’d received a call from his colleague in Las Vegas and he’d relayed that his marriage was over and expunged from the system. Teague had left work and instead of making a left to get to his place, he’d made a right and kept driving until he reached Elliott. He still wasn’t sure why.
He drank down the rest of the beer, tossing the bottle in the trash and loosening his tie while he grabbed another one from the fridge. Heavy footsteps pounding up the steps signaled a visitor. Beck—he was the only one who took them two at a time. The door popped open and the appearance of his dark, shaggy head confirmed his guess.
Without missing a beat, Teague slid the open bottle in his hand across the island and into the open grip of his friend.
Beck grinned, but shook his head. “I can’t man, I’m on call. Give me a water?”
Teague reached inside the fridge and snagged a bottle of water, and traded beverages, joining his friend as they leaned against the granite countertop.
“So, what did you do?”
Beck’s question didn’t surprise him at all. He knew this wasn’t a social call. “What do you know?”
“I know I had to help Risa pack up her stuff and drive her to the airport. All Risa would say was that you guys were done.” He lifted the bottle to his lips, pausing to ask again before drinking. “So, what did you do?”
“I asked her to stay with me. I told her we’d make a great team and I could give her life she deserved.”
“Uh-huh.” Beck placed his bottle on the counter, crossing his arms in a casual pose that would have fooled anyone else, but Teague could read the anger making his muscles bunch under his long-sleeved T-shirt. “And what did she have to do to earn this ticket to easy street?”
Teague felt his own ire rising in prickles along his skin. He still didn’t understand Risa’s objections and it sounded like Beck thought he did and was jumping to conclusions. “Nothing. The firm was going to take care of everything and all she had to do was agree to a few changes.”
“Like? Did she have too many parking tickets for the future first lady? An overdue library book?”
“No. She had things, criminal matters, in her past that would have been a problem in the future.” What she’d done was none of Beck’s business, but Teague needed to tell him enough to get him to drop the self-righteous attitude. “Leland was generous—”
“Oh fuck. Leland Duff?” Beck slapped the countertop in time with his sharp bark of a laugh, his face twisted in derision. “He’s never been generous a day in his life. You don’t want to owe a guy like him, Teague.”
“You sound like Risa.”
“Well, your wife is a smart woman. Leland Duff is a user and a dick of the first order. Whatever he knew would come back to haunt you one day.”
Teague lowered his bottle to the counter. He was getting damn tired of everyone thinking he didn’t know the score when it came to favors in DC. He knew the cost, but it was worth it to get where he wanted to go. It was how it was done and he was too smart to give Leland too much power.
“I think I can handle Leland.”
“I’m sure you can, but why would you?”
He felt his grip on his temper slipping, the frustration of the past few days spilling out. “Whatever. The bottom line is that Risa didn’t see the obvious benefit of accepting the firm’s help to get rid of her record. She’s too stubborn to see she’s getting a fresh start that few people in her situation get—”
“You are such a dick,” Beck said and emphasized it with a rough shove that sent Teague back a few paces.
His control—stretched so thin—snapped and Teague rushed his friend, tackling him and propelling him backward until the wall stopped them both with bone-jarring force. They were frequently MMA sparring partners and each anticipated the moves of the other. The result was a standoff of two angry men with no recourse but to break apart, breathing heavily, and eyeing each other warily. They both took a step back, waiting on the other for the next move.
Beck wiped his mouth and quirked a slight smile at the smear of blood on his finger. His voice was quiet when he finally spoke, Beck’s eyes boring into his own. “Do you remember when my dad went to jail the first time?”
“I do.”
That event had started a strange alliance. The son of the career criminal and the descendent of the town’s founder facing off against a few older boys who thought they could pick on Beck because of what his dad was.
“I kicked Junior Scearce’s ass because he and his buddies jumped you behind the middle school gym.”
“It wasn’t the last time I had to fight my way out of a situation where someone thought they could put me down because of the past.”
“I always had your back.”
“Yes, you did. You’ve always been a good friend to me, but you never understood what it was like to be me.” Beck slid onto a barstool, tracing the water ring left behind by the condensation from his water bottle. He didn’t look up, lost in whatever he was remembering. “You went back to your big house, warm bed, and clothes that didn’t come from the secondhand bin at the Methodist church.” He looked up then, his eyes full of the fierce pride Teague had seen a million times before and now recognized as the same fire that flashed hot in Risa’s eyes. “You had my back like a brother, but you never understood what it was really like to be the son of the convict. The poor kid from the trailer park.”
An uncomfortable prickle of unease settled in the base of his skull, warming his skin with the inkling of where this conversation was going. “I never thought of you that way. Never.”
“I know you didn’t, but that was exceptional, especially for someone from your background.” Beck smiled, his hand running through his overly long hair. “Poor kids with shitty backgrounds like me, like Risa. We either fall deeper into the gutter or we prove everyone wrong by making it happen and never compromising who we know we are. Once you’ve fought that hard, you wear your success like a fucking banner. Risa stumbled with this whole Big Tony thing, but coming that close only made it crystal fucking clear what she could lose by the same kind of compromise.”
“So when Leland offered to give her a new start…”
“Oh my God, you still don’t get it. What that asshole Leland did was tell Risa that she should be ashamed of everything—her past, her scrapping her way to a decent life—in order to be good enough to breathe the same air as him. That isn’t generous, it’s insulting.”
Teague was beginning to understand the other side of this story. Beck was right—he didn’t know what it was like to be him or Risa. He admired their strength. He’d witnessed Beck’s firsthand as he worked his way to scholarships, college, medical school, and training as a trauma doctor. Teague had also stood by him when Beck hid the bruises from his father, struggled with poverty with unwavering
dignity, and watched his father go to prison. A father he loved even though he never said so.
Yes, he’d been a friend, but he’d never really understood. Not until now.
Teague slid onto a barstool, uneasy with how he’d handled this situation settling heavy on his shoulders and anchoring him in place. He itched to do something to fix the mess he’d made.
Beck read his mind.
“You’ve got to call Risa and fix this.”
“I can’t.”
“What do you mean you can’t? This is what you do.”
“I got her a new identity and she’s gone. I promised I wouldn’t try to find her.”
“You got her a new what?” Beck shook his head. “You are a moron.” Beck pulled his phone out of his pocket and waved it in his face. “You were good with her. Call her and get her ass back here.”
“She loves me.”
“Really?” His friend clapped him on the shoulder, grinning widely with genuine happiness. “That’s great. You call her and she comes back and you guys keep going.”
“No. No, I can’t do that to her.” He had to move now, standing quickly and ripping at his tie with a vicious tug that burned the skin of his neck. “I don’t love her.”
“Bullshit.” Beck picked up his phone from where it buzzed on the countertop, glancing at the screen before he continued. “Look, I know your parents were all kinds of fucked up in the marriage and love department, but it’s real, man. Just look at Lucky’s and Jack’s parents.”
“I never said it wasn’t real. I just don’t think I can do it. There are things I want more than—”
Beck stood up, taking his bottle over to the recycling bin. “That was the hospital on the phone and I’ve got to go so I’ll make this quick. I’ll even use little words so you can understand.”
Teague flipped him the bird.
“There is nothing more important than love. I had it once and I was too stupid or too young to know what I had.”
“What?” Teague had never heard this before. Beck was the guy who jumped from bed to bed, never staying long enough for anyone to get too attached.
“You heard me. And let me tell you that regret is a bitch that digs her claws in and never lets you go.”
“Risa doesn’t fit in with my future. I know it. She knows it. We both got wrapped up in the great sex for a while and mistook it for something else.” Teague remembered how easy it had been to mistake it for something more than it could ever be. “I care for her. I want her. But I don’t love her.”
“You’re one of the smartest guys I know, but on this, you’ve got your head up your ass.” Beck slapped him on the shoulder as he headed for the door, already breaking into his usual half-run. Nothing got his blood pumping like a medical emergency. “I just hope you pull it out before you lose her for good.” He flashed a smile over his shoulder as he pulled the door open to leave. “Don’t be like your dad, man. Look at how long it took him to figure it out.”
The door closed behind him and Teague was left with nothing but an empty beer bottle, the sound of Beck’s retreating steps pounding down the stairs, and his advice bouncing off the walls of this empty apartment.
He rose, discarding his morbid thoughts. This wasn’t true regret, it was ego—he didn’t like being the one turned down. Risa’s walking away stung his pride. But he’d deliver the client files to the attorneys who’d taken them over, gather the last of his personal items from this apartment, and head back to DC. In a few months he’d have shaken off this melancholy and returned his focus to the future he’d worked so hard to achieve.
You didn’t have regrets when you got everything you wanted.
But he didn’t have everything he needed and that was what was so hard.
His telephone rang, the loud sound jarring him. He tapped the screen without looking at the caller ID. It was probably Beck in his car ready to continue the lecture.
“Hello.”
“Teague?”
Risa. He snapped up, rigid and amped up and at full attention. Maybe he could make this right, get her to come back so they could talk about this without so much damn drama.
“Yes, Risa. Look, I’m sorry—”
She rushed in, cutting him off. “Big Tony wants the thumb drive. You need to bring it to Vegas. Please, Teague.”
“What are you talking about?
“Big Tony—” Risa’s voice was cut off, a scuffle coming across the line and sending a frisson of anger and fear up and down his spine, making him break out in a cold sweat. He knew what was coming before he heard it.
“Mr. Elliott, this is Frank Gazarra…”
Teague bit back a curse at the name of Big Tony’s right-hand thug. He had info on Frankie, the kind that made him want to throw up knowing he was within touching distance of Risa. Big Tony was done fucking around; the message was loud and clear.
“Mr. Giambetti would like his thumb drive. If he doesn’t get it then you’ll be a widower. You’ve got twenty-four hours.”
And then the line went dead, the adrenaline rush through the blood in his system whooshing in his ears and making him temporarily deaf. He knew it was his blood pressure and he took deep breaths, like the ones he would take at mile ten on a run to level out his system and oxygenate his brain.
He was focused; he was seeing with such clarity he knew his heart had suddenly gained twenty-twenty vision on the truth of the matter. Of course he was going to Vegas. There was never any question. He would turn over the pictures to Big Tony. The chips in the rest of his life would fall where they may. None of that mattered anymore because they had Risa.
They had his wife.
And the thought of never seeing her again, never touching her again, settled across his shoulders like a ten-ton weight and threatened to bring him to his knees right there in the kitchen. He gripped the counter, sending up a prayer to a god he’d ignored for the majority of his adult life and hoping that the big guy didn’t hold a grudge because he needed him now.
He loved her.
How to actually do the loving part was beyond him. He had no idea if he could do it right—do right by her—but he would spend his life trying, if she would let him.
If he could get her back from Big Tony.
The odds were not in his favor; he knew what kind of man Tony Giambetti was—the kind who would kill you anyway once he got what he wanted.
So Teague needed leverage, both physical and otherwise, to get her out safely and to make sure they both got a chance at this love between them. Teague shut his eyes, anger and fear making his hands shake as he tapped the screen on the phone and hit speed dial. A plan was already forming in his brain. It wasn’t complicated. It wasn’t all that heroic.
It all hinged on secrets.
And he was very good with secrets.
He took a deep breath when the phone was answered on the other end of the line. He couldn’t trust Risa’s safety with anyone but the best. He needed to know that the men at his back would protect her as if she were one of their own. Luckily, he had people.
“Lucky? Get Jack over here as fast as you can. I need your help.”
Chapter Nineteen
Risa still hated all the guns.
She really hated the one aimed at her head right now and the man holding it: Frank Gazarra. She still couldn’t believe Big Tony had picked up her trail so easily. She’d flown to Los Angeles and rented a car to drive into Las Vegas, arriving at night and slipping into her house to grab a few things she wanted to take with her for her new life.
A long night in a crappy hotel paid in cash was uneventful and she was home free. Or so she thought. Her mistake had been Pepper. Unwilling to leave without making sure her friend was still okay, she’d gone to the rehab facility to speak to the administrator before leaving and setting up a place for Pepper to join her. Frank had been waiting for her in the parking lot. She hadn’t seen him coming and he had her before she could scream for help. Risa struggled, fought with every ounce of strength in
her body, but in the end all she had to show for it was a torn T-shirt, a shiner under her right eye, and a one-way trip to the Gold Coast Casino. They’d shoved her into a room just off Big Tony’s office, handcuffed her to a chair, and left her with Frank and his gun.
Good times.
A knock at the door preceded the knob’s turning and she pivoted, hoping Teague was here to get her away from these guys. But her chest clenched and her stomach fell when Big Tony stepped into the room, filling the doorway with his bulk.
“Get out, Frank.” The man in question scurried to follow the order quickly and efficiently. Nobody liked to make Big Tony wait, and Frank was gone before Tony could take two steps forward to sit in a big leather chair at the head of the table that took up most of the space and had served as her impromptu bed last night.
“I’m very disappointed in you, Risa.” He smiled, a creepy dark flash of teeth that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He was pissed, and she had no idea what this meant for her. “I give you a job, treat you well, and you betray me for a man who is a stranger to you. You were very rude.”
“Rude” was the mob code word for someone who would soon take a one-way trip to the desert. It didn’t bode well for her plans to start over in a place far, far away.
“This husband of yours. I know him, but I’m not sure how this is going to go down. Does he love you enough to give me what I want?”
“No.” She’d heard it from his own lips; the truth was undeniable. “He doesn’t. I only called him because you forced me to.”
That part wasn’t true. She’d called to hear his voice one last time because she was pretty sure she was going to die. But she wasn’t going to tell Big Tony. He’d just use it against her.
“Well, that sucks for you.” Big Tony got up to leave, but she had her own questions and since she was dying, she’d take a chance and ask. She had nothing to lose.
“Why do you hate him so much? What did he do to you?”
“Do? He didn’t do anything except be way too smart for his own good. He knows stuff he shouldn’t know because he’s the kind of fucker who doesn’t miss anything. He was becoming a danger to me and I needed to do something about him.” Tony picked at a piece of lint on his pants as he considered his answer, laughing to himself at his own private joke. “And he turned down my job offer. That pissed me off.”
Sweet Southern Betrayal Page 17
