Act of Valor

by Dana Mentink

  When the subway lurched out of the station, he shifted his focus completely to that spot. If Beck was on the train, he’d be coming through that entry point.

  His anger hardened like forged steel. Let him try.

  But with a subway car full of potential victims, he could not take any chances. He took out his phone and sent a text to Noah. He was beyond relieved to hear back that no one had been injured in Beck’s secondary attack and Eddie would be safely delivered to the Jamesons’ and an officer would retrieve Violet’s purse. His second text was in the form of a request that went to his friend, Archie Ballentine, and the positive reply came back immediately. He heaved out a sigh.

  “Where are we going?” Violet whispered.

  He bent to keep their conversation private. “I know a guy in Manhattan, at the address I gave you earlier. We’ll go to his place. It’s safe there. He just confirmed.”

  She didn’t speak; her demeanor was outwardly composed, but he knew it was a front. The tiny tremor in her fingers betrayed her. All he could do was stay glued to her side and keep his hand free in case he needed to reach for his gun.

  After the twenty-minute ride, they switched trains, watching warily for signs that Beck was following. Violet and Zach saw one person came through the adjoining cars, an older woman with a tiny white dog nestled in her purse. She sat next to Violet in a seat that had been vacated along the way.

  Violet offered her a wan smile.

  The woman watched them for a long while before she finally quirked a brow at Violet and then at Zach. “Not my business, young man,” she said, “but you should take better care of your sweetheart. Her shoe is broken.”

  Violet’s cheeks went red. “Oh, he’s not...”

  “You’re right, ma’am,” Zach cut in. “It’s been an unusual day and I’ve been rushing her.”

  “Unusual or not,” she clucked, smoothing her wrinkled hands over her dog’s wiry head. “You should never rush your sweetheart. And you’ve spent this whole ride staring at the door or your cell phone, not even giving one speck of attention to this beautiful lady.”

  “She’s right,” the woman across the aisle piped up. Zach swiveled to acknowledge her. She was bundled in a coat and rubber boots, sporting a chic red hat.

  Violet’s tiny smile indicated she was enjoying his public chastisement.

  The look both women shot him was pure disapproval.

  “Got to step up your game,” the hat lady said, “if you want to keep her.”

  Zach felt like an insect on a pin as he cleared his throat. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Women need to be treasured, pampered, treated like jewels.” The older woman eyed Violet’s broken shoe. “Well, you should take her someplace where she can have that shoe repaired and then get a bite to eat. I am quite certain I heard her stomach growl. It’s nearly four o’clock. Did you even bother to get her lunch? A late-afternoon snack? Anything?”

  “Uh, no, ma’am. We were...”

  “I haven’t eaten since breakfast,” Violet said, her tone melancholy.

  “What has happened to the youth in our country?” Huffing out a breath, the woman reached around the dog in her bag and pulled out a chocolate bar. “Eat this, honey. You need a pick-me-up, if this fellow did not so much as get you a hot dog for lunch.”

  With a sweet smile, Violet accepted. “Thank you very much. It’s so kind of you.”

  The old woman shot Zach a hostile glare. “And don’t share it with him until he learns some manners.”

  Zach was stumbling over some sort of reply when his phone buzzed with a text from Noah.

  Beck’s evaded capture. Watch your back.

  He blew out a breath. At least Beck wasn’t on the subway train. Now, if he could just get Violet to the safe house.

  He looked up to find both women watching him, frowning.

  “He can’t even keep his eyes off his cell phone long enough for one conversation.” Hat lady sniffed. “Pathetic.”

  “She could definitely do better,” the older one said, launching into a story about her grandfather and his courtship procedures. He was beyond relieved when the train pulled into the station. Quickly, he took Violet’s hand and helped her to her feet. She staggered a bit on her broken heel.

  As Violet thanked the lady again for the candy bar, the woman handed her a slip of paper, whispering loud enough for him to hear, “My grandson is an orthodontist. He’s single. Here’s his number.”

  Violet managed to keep a straight face until they were out of the train. Then she let out a mighty burst of laughter. It was a release of stress, he knew, but still. He hustled her along faster, tucking her arm under his.

  “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?” he said as they made their way out of the station.

  She nodded. “Oh, yes. Immensely.”

  He sighed. He could handle being lambasted, if it took her mind off Xavier Beck, bringing back her sparkle if only for a few moments.

  “Come on, Vi. Maybe I can redeem myself for my boorish behavior.”

  “Doubtful,” she said, squeezing his hand, “but it will be amusing to see you try.”

  * * *

  The apartment building in Manhattan was on the Upper West Side, half a block from Central Park. They’d finished the last leg of the journey in a cab. Rents here were high, and she wondered about Zach’s acquaintance. Tidying her hair and straightening her jacket, she worried she looked like a vagrant with her ruined shoe. They’d already gotten stares from the taxi driver, the doorman and the lady waxing the floors, who looked pointedly at Violet’s broken heel. They were buzzed through the lobby and up to a third-floor studio apartment.

  “Who is Archie Ballentine?” she said.

  “Friend of the family. He’s at work, but he said to make ourselves at home.” Zach used a key to open the door.

  “Why do you have a key?”

  “Friends, like I said. He’s got a key to our place, too.”

  Must be very good friends, she thought, if he had a key to a cop’s house. The interior was small, with a brick wall and hardwood floors. A neatly made queen-size bed opened onto a tiny kitchen. Another door led to the equally tiny bathroom. Zach walked to the windows that looked down onto 82nd Street. He must have been satisfied, since he drew the curtains and went to the bottom drawer of the dresser.

  “Here,” he said, handing her a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. “Archie’s sister stays here sometimes and she left some things. Archie said to borrow what you needed and shower and change. Sorry there’s no shoes, though.”

  “I’m okay... I...”

  Zach’s look went mournful. “Please, Vi. I’ve already been chewed up by two ladies about how I should take better care of my sweetheart. At least allow me to do this and fix you something to eat so I can salvage some shred of dignity.”

  “But you’re not my sweetheart, so you’re off the hook.” Not her sweetheart, just a man she trusted with her life, who knew her better and deeper than anyone else on the planet. And why did her stomach go fluttery when she looked at him now, all strong and tender at the same time?

  He pushed the bundled clothes at her. “While you shower, I need to make some calls and I’m going to fix you some eggs if there are any.”

  Her doubt must have shown on her face.

  “Why are you giving me that look? I can cook eggs,” he said defensively.

  “Since when?”

  “Since, like, forever.”

  “Last time you tried to make eggs we had to throw away the pan.”

  “Aww, go shower, wouldja? I need to recapture some self-esteem. You just wait. The eggs are going to be awe-inspiring. Much better than an orthodontist could make.”

  Taking the clothes, she squeezed into the bathroom. A narrow stand-up shower was crowded in with a pedestal sink and toilet, but to Violet it was finer than accommodati
ons at the Four Seasons. The hot water rinsed away the grit and grime and she helped herself to a dollop of shampoo. It felt glorious to be clean, and though Archie’s sister was a bigger size than Violet, she was grateful for the gentle softness of the borrowed clothes next to her skin. She used her scarf as a makeshift belt to cinch the waist of the jeans.

  The mirror cast a sobering reflection back at her that took away some of her contentment. A scrape grazed the cheek that was already bruised from Beck’s airport attack and there was another scratch on her forehead. But what Violet was most shocked by was the fear she saw imprinted on her own face.

  Where was the independent, self-assured woman she thought she’d been hours before? Now she was nose to nose with someone small and scared, unsure, a woman who’d seen a life snuffed out right next to her. It came back in a horrifying rush. Clinging to the edge of the sink, she searched for strength. An image of Zach rose in her mind. Zach is here, and he won’t let anything happen to me.

  She didn’t want to depend on someone else for her peace of mind. The very idea offended her sensibilities, but nonetheless Zach’s presence was the only thing keeping the terror at bay. He was right there, in the kitchen, and his nearness meant comfort and shelter, whether she could admit it or not. Straightening her shoulders, she tucked her hair behind her ears. With her nerves bolstered a little, she pattered out of the bathroom on bare feet to find him before her confidence could evaporate.

  The acrid smell of burning eggs tickled her nostrils. She found Zach staring mournfully into a blackened pan at the remnants of what had probably been his attempt at scrambled eggs.

  “Oh, dear,” she said.

  “I don’t get it.” He shook his head. “I watched a YouTube video. I thought I did everything right.”

  “It’s okay. I wasn’t very hungry, anyway.”

  He heaved out a breath. “You know, I’m beginning to suspect I’m not very good at cooking.”

  The understatement of the decade. Through sheer force of will, she smothered a smile and a peal of laughter. “You just need more practice.”

  “I was trying to get some at the house.” He groaned. “My brothers have started to call me The Incinerator. The only thing I can make is Eddie’s treats and that’s only because Ellie helps me. A six-year-old is a better cook than I am.”

  She giggled. “You can’t be good at everything.”

  He shoved the pan in the sink, filled it with water, his back to her. Hands braced on the counter, his head dropped. “No, only one thing. I have to be good at being a cop. It’s all I have,” he mumbled to the soapy water.

  “You are a great cop.” She sensed the pain and she put her hands on his shoulders, kneading the taut muscles. He relaxed slightly, letting out a deep sigh. Her fingers massaged his neck as if she could ease away his doubt.

  “I’m not sure anymore.”

  The vulnerability jarred her. He’d actually shared the crack in his confidence, a deeply painful thing for him to expose to anyone. “You will catch Beck,” she said firmly, pressing her cheek hard to his spine. “And you will find the man who murdered Jordy and you will experience joy again, just like God wants.”

  He was silent for a long moment and then he turned around to face her. His eyes were thoughtful, so blue, exquisitely earnest. “Do you really still believe in me like that, Vi?”

  “I really do.”

  “Why?” It came out as the softest whisper.

  “Because I trust you, just like I did when I climbed the tree. You wouldn’t let me fall then and you won’t now. Jordy trusted you and you won’t let him down, either.”

  His face was close to hers, his breath and body warm. He brushed a thumb along her cheek.

  “I know you’re scared,” he said.

  “Not me.”

  His touch was as gentle as the smile playing across his lips. “You’re lying, Vi.”

  Her lip trembled. “Maybe pretending, just a little.” His caress continued to connect her to him, to make a bridge past the fear to a new place that she hadn’t been before.

  And then his mouth was on hers and her whole world grew fuzzy around the edges. Sparks circled and danced in her spirit like fireflies on a warm spring night. He stopped for a moment, looking at her in wonder, and then he leaned in for another kiss.

  THIRTEEN

  Zach pressed his mouth to hers and reveled in the explosion of comfort that flooded over him. It felt like coming home. He buried his hand in her hair and held her there, her lips soft as satin. His brain could not keep up with the confusion he felt at kissing the woman who was supposed to be his friend only. Somehow with his kiss he had eased them into a new wild and thrilling territory. This is a bad idea, his brain blared at him.

  So he stopped listening to his brain and kissed her again, letting his heart guide him toward what it wanted. When they were both breathless, she eased away a fraction, and he looked in disbelief at the brown eyes that stared from under a curtain of long lashes, reflecting his own surprise back at him. His face looked like that of a man in love.

  “Zach...” she breathed.

  Then the door opened and he shoved her behind him, grabbing his gun and charging the front door.

  Archie Ballentine jerked to a halt with a grocery bag in one arm. He was a short plug of a man, close to seventy now, with a cap of snowy hair and a suit, custom-made, to go with his leather wing tips. “Hello, Zach. I’d raise my hands and surrender, but I don’t want to drop the groceries.”

  Zach exhaled and holstered his weapon. “I thought you were working.”

  “Closed the deal early.”

  “You should have texted me. I could have shot you.”

  “I did text you.” His brow hitched a fraction as he scanned Violet’s face and then Zach’s. “You were distracted, I guess...”

  Archie had always had the uncanny ability to read Zach like a book. It didn’t help that Zach’s breathing was still erratic and his heart was thumping like Eddie’s tail after a bust. He cleared his throat, hoping he did not still look like a lovesick puppy. “I’m sorry. Very glad to see you, we both are. Sure do appreciate your help, Archie.”

  “Figured you might want some food for the lady.” He gave the bag to Zach along with a hug, and extended his palm to Violet.

  “Vi, this is Archie Ballentine.” The mundane introduction seemed ridiculous to Zach, when he was still reeling from kissing Violet. He could not tell from her face how the kiss had affected her, except for a slight petal-pink blush staining her cheeks. Ten minutes before, he would never have believed he’d have kissed Violet Griffin, not like that, anyway.

  “Nice to meet you,” she said. “Thank you for letting me come here.”

  “Sure,” Archie said. “When a Jameson says he needs something, the answer is always yes. This time, however, I am a little lacking in details.”

  “I’ll fill you in.” Zach deposited the groceries on the kitchen counter as he talked. He started with the airport incident and quickly outlined events that led to his desperate text to Archie on the subway ride from Queens.

  Archie nodded. “So this Xavier Beck’s at large. Is he the big boss or is there someone else?”

  “Bill hinted there was a bigger guy behind it all.” He caught Violet’s wince at the mention of her deceased boss. “I, uh... It’s been a traumatic couple of hours.”

  Archie nodded thoughtfully. “I think I got it. What’s the game plan?”

  “Keep Vi here tonight, if that’s okay.”

  Violet started to object, but Zach shook her off. “Beck’s going to stick around. I want you here for a while to give our guys a chance to catch him and to set up a tighter watch schedule at your house. He’s been seen by a ton of people and the cops are all over, so he won’t be able to remain long out in the open. It’s safer for you to stay here tonight.”

  She slid a look at A
rchie. “Is it fair to involve Mr. Ballentine in a dangerous situation?”

  “Call me Archie,” he said. “And offering up my apartment is a no-brainer. As far as danger goes...” He shrugged. “I can take care of myself.”

  “That’s for sure. Always land on your feet somehow,” Zach said with a laugh. “And as I recall you’ve beaten Carter in a judo match a time or two.”

  Archie grinned. “Yes, I have. More than a time or two in my younger days. His hip throw was terrible back then. Couldn’t knock over a toddler.”

  Zach grinned. “Still can’t.”

  “When did you two meet?” Violet asked.

  Zach leaned on the kitchen counter. “Jordy and I arrested him.” They both chuckled at the look of shock on Violet’s face.

  “All right, Miss Violet,” Archie said. “Sit down at the table, if you’re still willing now that you know I’m a reformed felon. I brought sandwiches because The Incinerator here can’t boil water without setting something on fire.”

  Zach groaned. “You’ve been talking to my brothers.”

  “I check in when I can. Since my apartment smells like burned eggs, I assume you haven’t changed your ways. Sit down, both of you, and I’ll explain before we get ourselves a game plan.” Archie passed out pastrami sandwiches and cans of soda.

  Zach realized for the first time that he was starving. He’d missed both breakfast and lunch and it was well on toward the dinner hour. He ate hungrily, while Violet only managed a few bites.

  “Eat, Vi,” he said. “You’ve got to get some food down.”

  “That’s what I’ve been telling you for the past two months,” she said, sampling a small bite.