by Dana Mentink
Another hand wrapped around her mouth from behind, muffling the scream that was erupting from her lips.
“Shhhh,” Zach whispered in her ear. “It’s me. No light. I don’t want him to see you.”
Her knees went weak with relief as he released her and kept her close. His body was wire taut. He put his mouth near and spoke in her ear. “Get out, well away from here, and text my brothers with your location. They should be here any minute. I’m going to find him. He has to be in the basement still unless there’s an easy exit where he wouldn’t be spotted leaving.”
She clutched at his forearm. “No. He’ll kill you.”
He pushed her firmly away a step. “Gonna get him, Vi. Do what I say. Now.”
Fear flashed through her. Cops always lose. “Please, Zach. No.”
“You’re not giving orders here.”
“Zach...”
This time he didn’t answer, just dropped a kiss on her temple and propelled her to the threshold so fast she almost stumbled. When she turned around again, he was gone, vanishing into the shadows.
Her blood turned to ice, and a wave of fear overwhelmed her, for a moment she could not move. Beck’s words assaulted her again.
You know who wins in the end...?
Zach would play by the rules—he already had, by identifying himself as a cop, making himself a target. Beck would kill Zach without a second thought.
Her fingernails cut into her palms. Desperate to run to Zach, she had to do what he said, or risk making the problem worse. Text the Jamesons. Stumbling over the threshold, she raced into the hallway and frantically texted Noah, but the message failed to send, thanks to her position deep in the building. She took the stairs two at a time, panic driving her. Almost at the exit to the lobby she yelped as a German shepherd dog lunged at her, barking viciously.
Carter pulled Frosty back with a sharp command. “Are you hurt?”
“No. Zach’s in the basement with Beck. Beck’s got a knife.”
“We got his text. Keep going until you’re out of here.” Carter barreled by her, Frosty rigid with excitement. She continued her mindless sprint, emerging into the lobby where she found Luke Hathaway and his German shepherd, Bruno.
Luke guided her to a corner of the lobby away from the swarm of patrol cops. Noah Jameson was there, speaking into his radio. He gave her a nod, but he did not approach her. The intensity on his face aged him. She could not conceive of how he could do his job when another of his brothers could possibly lose his life at any moment. How could he calmly work the scene while Zach was in the basement with a lunatic?
Save him, she wanted to scream. You’ve got to save him.
But that was exactly what Noah and the assembled officers were trying to do, she realized. As much as she wanted to run right back down to that basement, she would do as instructed and not become another problem for the cops to deal with.
In control, strong, like she always was, but in truth, her legs felt like wet noodles. The whole thing was her fault. How could she have been so stupid to deliver herself to the lobby for Beck to abduct?
The building’s super appeared at her elbow. “Zach told me to lock myself in the office until I saw the cops. Uh, er, are you okay? You’re missing a shoe, and you look terrible. Did they catch the guy yet?”
Violet forced a steadying breath and gave the super a stripped-down account of what had transpired.
He shook his head. “And the worst thing I had to deal with today was a stopped-up toilet and a jammed mailbox.”
Violet could not manage a reply, but she was relieved that the super went to talk to the other tenants who had begun to assemble in the lobby. The patrol cop in charge told them in no uncertain terms to clear the area but they were slow in dispersing, curious to know why there was a one-shoed tenant on the verge of hysteria holding up a wall of the building. Each breath was an effort. Would the door open to Carter’s mournful face if he could not save yet another brother?
All she could do was stand there like a statue, praying like crazy that God would keep Zach safe.
A cop jogged in from outside. “Spotted Beck running as I pulled up. I pursued on foot but I lost him. He...”
“He was too quick for me, too,” Zach said as he followed the cop in.
Violet’s heart nearly jumped from her chest at the sight of him. It was all she could do to keep her tears from flowing and fight the urge to throw her arms around him and squeeze the breath from his lungs.
“Carter’s checking the nearby shops, but I think Beck had a vehicle somewhere close by.” Zach conferred with his colleagues for a moment while Violet simply stared and willed her legs to hold her up. She hunched over, trying to draw in steadying breaths. Zach came to her side.
“Hey. You okay?”
She nodded, still not looking at him. He crooked a finger under her chin and tipped her head up.
“Serious?”
“Yes,” she said through chattering teeth. She wanted him to stay there, holding her arms, telling her he was all right, that the whole crazy situation was going to be okay, but she could make no sound at all.
“You lost a shoe,” he said, holding her hand.
“A good excuse to get new ones.”
He smiled. “Since when do you need an excuse? You’ve got more shoes than Bloomingdale’s.”
“At least I’m wearing one. You’re barefoot.” Violet wanted to fire back another sassy remark. Instead, she put her head on his chest to hide her face.
“You... I...when you went after him... I was...scared.”
He stroked her hair. “I’m sorry you were scared, but that’s my job, Vi, and I’m gonna do it, especially if it means making sure you’re safe.”
Safe. She wondered if she would ever feel safe again.
“I shouldn’t have gone down to the lobby. It was dumb.”
He bent down to look at her, his expression stern. “This isn’t your fault. None of it. You’re not gonna feel that way, hear me?”
Some of her load of misery lifted. She wanted to fall into his blue eyes and float there in a sea of azure, far away from the current madness.
He tucked her into the crook of his arm. “I don’t think he’ll be back, but just in case, I’m taking you to your parents’ house tonight and I’m sure you aren’t going to argue with me this time.”
“Okay,” Violet said.
Zach frowned. “Okay? No arguments?”
“Uh-uh.” Violet bent, both to take off her remaining shoe and conceal her fear. “You’re right. I’ll go. I should have listened to you in the first place.”
He squeezed her around her shoulders. “I wish I could get that last bit on tape. That’s not your typical comeback.”
She tried for bravado. “It hasn’t been a typical night. I...I mean, he could’ve...” The feel of Beck’s arm locked around her throat shook her again. Tears gathered in her eyes, to her dismay, and she gulped them back.
Zach pulled her a bit closer and walked her to the elevator, calling over his shoulder, “Taking her upstairs to pack a bag. Be down in five.”
Noah nodded, still talking to a group of officers clustered around him.
When the elevator doors closed, Zach took her in his arms. “I’m sorry this happened, Vi.” He tucked her underneath his chin, his breath warm on her hair. “You don’t deserve any of this.”
She crushed herself to his chest and stayed there, breathing, trying to control the rampant flood of emotions. Xavier Beck’s threats rang loud and clear in her ears. But she had to be strong, she told herself, calm and in control, like he expected. Zach needs you to keep it together.
“You know, it’s...okay not to be okay,” he said into her hair. “Talk about it if you need to.”
It hit her like a slap. Was he really saying that she should be vulnerable with him? Asking her to sp
ill her guts? Her self-control started to erode. She jerked away from him. “So it’s fine for me to express my inner angst but not you?”
He looked startled. “Well, I mean, it’s healthy to talk about it, right? That’s what everybody says after a traumatic incident.”
“For me, you mean, but not for a tough K-9 cop.”
He offered a smile. “Right, well, that goes without saying, doesn’t it?”
“No, it doesn’t.”
He shifted uneasily. “I don’t understand why I’m in trouble here.”
She goggled at him. “You can’t keep your feelings locked away in a vault and expect me to share mine.”
He didn’t answer, just scrubbed a palm over his face. “Where is this coming from? It’s kind of out of the blue.”
“It most certainly is not. It’s been coming on since your brother was killed.”
He flinched, but she pressed on. “It’s okay that you’re struggling with Jordy’s death, Zach, and like you said, it’s healthy to talk about it.”
He did not meet her eye, but his mouth hardened into a firm line. “I don’t need to talk about it. I’m dealing, Vi.”
“No, you’re not. You’re angry and blaming God and it’s making you nuts that you can’t solve your own brother’s murder.”
He folded his arms across his chest, staring at the mirrored doors, tone hard and flat. “This isn’t the time.”
“Yes, it is. If you want me to share my feelings, then you can share yours.”
His twitching jaw muscle told her what he thought of that idea. Without looking at her he said, “I...just want you to be all right. I’m sorry if I offended you.”
Silence spooled out between them as she regarded Zach in the steel doors. So tall, strong, macho, but with his bare feet and the bemused expression and the pain that he was trying so desperately to keep sealed away, she saw his truest self: a man hurting, her best friend, whom she could have easily lost forever. She felt the anger drain out of her.
“You didn’t offend me.” He would not meet her eye. “And I want the same for you, Zach. I want to help you be all right, if you’ll let me.” Had her words been too plaintive? Too pushy? Too laced with longing that she hadn’t hidden away properly?
The silence went on for a beat longer. “Why don’t we talk about something else...like your baseball skills? Taking out the lights with a screwdriver, I didn’t know you had it in you.” His laugh was forced, tense, but the message was clear.
I don’t want this.
She was changing the rules of their relationship and he wasn’t ready or willing to do so. What did he want from her? Strength, wit, friendship, nothing more, nothing deeper.
Her spirit sagged. So be it. Those were the things she would give him, then. Nothing more, nothing deeper. Swallowing hard, she watched the buttons count off the floors one by one.
The silence was deafening by the time the elevator finally delivered them back to her apartment. She unlocked the door and gasped. Zach immediately pushed ahead of her, took in the surroundings and groaned. The sofa sported an eight-inch hole in the cushion, the stuffing spilling out onto the floor. Eddie was nowhere in sight.
“Officer Eddie, get your sorry self in here right now,” Zach thundered.
The dog slunk from behind the couch, his face more hound dog at that moment than beagle. “What do you have to say for yourself? You’re supposed to be a highly trained police K-9.”
Eddie offered a half-hearted wag of his tail and a yip at his master. A bit of stuffing clung to his whiskers.
“Don’t you try to make nice with me, dog. You ruined Violet’s sofa. I hope you thoroughly enjoyed yourself, because you are in deep trouble. This will be reflected in your service record.”
Eddie whined, ears down and then let loose with a pitiful baying.
Violet could not help the laughter that bubbled up from her mouth. Whether it was born of relief, or trauma, the giggles escalated until tears ran down her face and she doubled over.
“I’m glad you find this amusing,” Zach said, glowering at her and the dog. “Now I gotta pay for a couch.”
She could not restrain another peal of laughter. “At least you don’t have to worry about sleeping on it.”
A hint of a smile quirked his mouth and he let out a world-weary sigh. “Go pack your bag, Vi. Officer Chewsalot and I need to have a talk about behavior and life choices and the extent of his grounding.”
“Yes, sir,” Violet said, still giggling as she went to fetch her suitcase. Maybe you can get the dog to open up about his feelings, she thought, giving Eddie a little pat as she walked out.
EIGHT
Zach gave Violet an encouraging nod as she held the phone between them in the front seat of his Tahoe, dialed Bill Oscar and clicked on the speakerphone. He’d cautioned her vigorously not to mention anything about what had transpired at her apartment building. Bill might have orchestrated the whole attack, after all, and there was still a chance a cop might apprehend Beck before the night was over.
“I’m sorry for the late notice, Bill, but I am going to take your advice and not come in tomorrow. My mom really needs help with the puppy and...” She swallowed. “I’m not feeling at the top of my game, to be honest.”
As close as Violet would come to admitting she was rattled. “Good job,” he mouthed.
“No problem, Vi,” Bill said. “I understand completely. It’s about time you started to use up that mountain of vacation time you have on the books.”
She thanked him again and disconnected.
Zach had listened intently and did not hear any indication of suspicion in Bill’s voice. Either the guy was a great actor or he believed Violet’s excuse. It gave him some breathing room as he escorted Violet to the front door of her parents’ home.
She paused on the doorstep. The light of the streetlamp painted her in an ethereal glow, like a portrait he’d seen of a woman looking down at her moonlit garden. Was it the light that made her look so delicate or perhaps had his vision changed since he’d come so close to losing her in that basement?
His breathing hitched. He wanted to put his arms around her, to feel her warm breath on his neck, to reassure her and himself. But he was still confused by what had happened earlier between them in the elevator.
If you want me to share my feelings, then you can share yours.
Was that what he wanted? That mutual sharing of the deepest parts of themselves? But that was more than friendship, wasn’t it?
“Good night, Zach.” As she opened the door he saw Lou hastening toward her. Zach stepped away, wiggled his fingers at her and left her to the comfort of her worried father.
He was satisfied as he and Eddie returned home that at least Violet would be safe for one day and he’d have another chance to convince her to stop working for Bill Oscar, just until he figured out if Bill was guilty or not. It wasn’t like he was trying to force her to give up her career or anything.
Lying in bed, he stared at the ceiling. Though his body ached from exhaustion, his mind would not allow him to sleep. The moment in the elevator kept poking at him. What did Violet want him to do, flop down on her ruined sofa and share all of his innermost feelings with her? That wasn’t the kind of relationship they had. They were friends, jovial, supportive, yes, but upbeat always. Violet was a tough lady, sure of herself and ready with a wisecrack, just like she’d always been. He couldn’t imagine where she’d come up with the notion that they should cry on each other’s shoulders. Then again, he’d practically cried on hers outside the diner, and for some reason it hadn’t felt awkward at all.
More and more he found himself puzzling and worrying over what Violet Griffin might be thinking and yes, every so often, he felt the urge to unburden himself to her about the ravenous wolf gnawing away at his insides, the case he could not solve, the brother who was lost to him forever.
There were others, a long line of people from brothers to his parents, buddies and even a cop shrink, who would listen to an emotional rant from Zach Jameson, so why could he only imagine sharing with Violet and no one else? Familiarity, it had to be. He’d known her forever.
He pictured Violet’s mocha eyes and the sassy curve of her mouth, and in his mind she looked as she had on the doorstep, more tender and less tough, more wounded than wisecracking. There went the hitch in his breath again when he thought of her. He was losing it, pure and simple.
Aww, go to sleep, already, wouldja? Resolved to push Violet and everything else from his brain, he yanked up the covers and rolled onto his stomach.
* * *
After a night of fitful rest at best, he got up at dawn, pulled on a NYPD sweat suit and went out for a run in the chilly predawn of Thursday morning. Eddie, though a fairly energetic dog, was not the “jog four miles” type of animal, so he left him sleeping off his antics from the night before. Zach could only hope he had not ingested any of the sofa stuffing he’d worked so hard to disgorge. He ran long and hard, setting a pace that would drive away the angst and clear his confusion. Sweating and more relaxed, he returned to the kitchen he shared with his brothers, their families and his mom and dad, to find his six-year-old niece Ellie waiting for him.
“Hey, squirt.”
“Hiya, Uncle Zach. Ready?”
“For what?”
“You forgot.” Her cornflower eyes looked at him accusatorially. He scanned the counter and saw the ingredients she’d laid out: natural peanut butter, honey, wheat flour.
“No, I didn’t.”
“Yes, he did,” Violet said, entering. “Before you lecture, an officer walked me over from next door.” Her hair was caught into a loose ponytail, and she wore a shirt with greens and golds that coaxed the color of autumn leaves from her eyes. At that moment it hit him that Violet was insanely beautiful. It must have been some sort of profound idiocy that he had never noticed it before. He dropped the kitchen towel.
