Tony shook his head grimly, but his gaze skated to his brothers. Liza knew that look. No amount of acting classes could get rid of that look on Tony’s face. He had made that face as a toddler who stole Liza’s last Oreo from the dessert plate. And usually, it was when another brother had told him to do it. Guilty and colluding.
Liza scanned the rest of her brothers. Griffin sat stiffer than usual in his corporate attire. Parker looked especially pompous with his casual arm rested across the length of the couch and eyes zeroed in on Daisy like she was about to rob the bank.
Liza had to shut that down quick-smart. She wasn’t ready to attack Daisy just yet.
“Hey Parks,” she called and ditched a pillow at his lustrous hair. “The nineties called. They want their shampoo commercial back.”
He sneered at her in a way only a brother could. But she achieved her purpose. He may be kingpin in the field, but he wasn’t at home. They were all equal.
Daisy had offered to tell them anything they wanted to know about the Syndicate. And here she was, sitting in borrowed sweats and shoeless. Mary was by her side, stoic and ominous in her dark yoga attire. The woman had a spine straighter than an arrow, and yet, today, she managed to look smaller and more fragile than any of them. It was the first time Liza had ever imagined her adoptive mother as anything other than invincible. But Mary was getting older, as they all were. Mary’s latter years had been full of gut-wrenching nerves. The children she’d raised to be loving yet implacable warriors for good had come undone, stitched themselves back together, and come undone again.
And here was her greatest regret, Daisy. The obvious hope in Mary’s eyes kept flicking to her lost daughter, who tucked her long skinny legs beneath her bottom and kept to herself.
“Bit early to discuss the end of the world, isn’t it?” Liza asked.
Parker slid unamused eyes to her but said nothing.
Griffin, already dressed and slick in his corporate attire, indicated the sketches. “Daisy’s been telling us what she knows about the Syndicate.”
“Oh?” Liza took a seat next to Daisy and tried not to look too invested, but this was the moment they’d all been waiting for. “Shouldn’t we wait for Wyatt and the others?”
Tony snorted. “As if Wyatt’ll leave the seventh floor before Misha gives birth.”
“That’s not true,” Griffin said. “He’s cooking family dinner at the end of the week.”
“I think Daisy was about to explain the sketches Evan’s made,” Parker interrupted, in no uncertain terms, effectively silencing everyone. “Please continue, Daisy, and tell us what you know.”
Daisy’s violet eyes shimmered beneath a frown. “The truth is, not as much as you’d like to hear. I’ve been having blackouts.”
Mary took Daisy’s hand and met Liza’s stare. “Julius has no further use for her, and since she’s not triggered her powers, a blackout isn’t going to get her far in terms of world devastation. Not when you are all powered. Apparently, they haven’t completely dismissed the possibility of turning you all rogue. Daisy believes her life is in danger.”
Liza wasn’t the only one unconvinced at this excuse, but Mary swallowed it. They had to tread carefully or they’d break her heart. Uncovering Daisy’s true reason for being here was like surgery. They needed the right tools and the right surgeon.
When Evan and Sloan sauntered in with a mobile tattoo kit, Liza understood. They were going to use the bio-indicator ink on Daisy. Having the yin-yang tattoo was just one level of secrecy they could peel away from her. The ink would show everyone just how close she was to blacking out, if she was a risk, or if it was all a lie.
“This is going to take some time,” Parker said, and then looked at Liza. “You should go to work.” He stood and guided Liza to the door, not even giving her a chance to say goodbye, but Liza knew better than to publicly dispute him. He almost always had a valid reason. She didn’t have to like it to know it came from good, or smart, intentions.
At the elevator, she murmured, “What is it?”
His brow furrowed in a surprising show of concern. “Be careful.”
“Me?”
He nodded.
“Don’t worry, I feel more in control this morning. I’ll keep my hands to myself, and I have a backup plan if shit goes down. I’ll be fine once I see Joe.”
“Will you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s not exactly comforting to see a Fed walk out of a known criminal organization’s headquarters in a dark mood.”
Liza flinched. She hated it when he called their family criminal, but it was true. “He’ll be fine. He just needs to process.”
An indignant eyebrow shot up. “It’s Joe.”
“Exactly.”
“You know, on second thought, you should be heading straight to the basement and working on your control. One slip at the precinct and you give us all away, even if your mate decides to keep our secrets to himself. You need to seriously consider if it’s time to give up the day job.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Tony’s done it, and he was balancing both lives well enough. You’ve never been capable of balancing your alter egos. So you’ll have to pick one. Time for you to get into your suit. I’m almost finished with upgrades to handle your poison. We’re going to get the information we need from Daisy and then shit is going to happen. Are you in?”
Pain shot in her teeth from the tightness of her clenched jaw. How could he say that? How could he make demands?
“You know I’m right,” he said. “We’ve let you entertain thoughts of a real career, but I think it’s clear you’re a Lazarus. You can’t run from it.”
“Fuck you, Parker.”
“I’ll meet you downstairs in ten.”
18
A flyer was slammed onto Joe’s desk.
He looked up and found Letisha from admin. She waggled her eyebrows and glanced at the flyer.
“What do you say, Loochie? You joining the team?”
“Stop asking me.” He shifted the flyer away. “I’m not part of this precinct anymore. I’m just visiting. Find someone else to join your—what is this?” He squinted at the flyer. “Softball?”
She nodded emphatically. “You haven’t played in years.”
“That’s because I left the city,” he replied drolly.
“Don’t take that tone with me, Mr. Snarky Pants.” She snatched the flyer back. “It’s the least you can do since you cost us our best player.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Liza pulled out.”
“Why is that my fault?”
She pursed her lips. “Boy, I’ve been around since the day you two walked in with your academy shirts and matching green faces. You think I don’t know the reason our girl’s taking her first sick day, so soon after you arrive in town, isn’t because of you?” She made an incredulous sound through her teeth. “Puh-lease. It’s always the man.”
She went to leave, but Joe stood suddenly. “Wait. Liza’s sick?”
A raised brow and a gesture at the flyer. “You going to join?”
“I’ll think about it. What do you mean about Liza?”
Liza told Joe last night that she needed to be in contact with her mate, or her internal balance was volatile, or something like that. Whatever she’d done to maintain her equilibrium before might not be enough now. If she’d called in sick, maybe it was his fault. Maybe she was actually sick, and he’d walked away from her.
Letisha shrugged. “All I know is that her brother said she was unwell and won’t be in for a few days. He also said to remove her from all extracurricular activities, hence the need for a replacement player on our softball team.”
“Her brother said that?”
She tipped her chin affirmatively.
He sat in his chair and fumed. When Letisha left, he pulled out two Manila files from his locked drawer. He’d spent most of the night compiling his report on the Deadly
Seven, but the moment he’d finished, he immediately started another report. Both of them were so sensitive, that he hadn’t been ready to enter the data into the computer. The second report had been about the white-robed terrorists Liza called the Faithful, and their Syndicate boss. By the time he’d crossed the last t and dotted the last i, he knew he needed more information before making a final decision about which report to hand in. One file was thick. The other was thin. He needed more evidence.
The previous night had left him exhausted, both spiritually and bodily. Old bitterness rose to the surface at how Parker had treated him on the way out. Parker thought he was so much better than everyone, and maybe he was. Maybe that was the reason Joe wanted to see his downfall. If Parker didn’t think he was so perfect, then Joe didn’t have as high to climb.
A knock came at the door. A glance up and his heart stopped.
“Liza.” Joe surged to his feet, almost knocking the case files wide open. Scrambling to order them, he quickly locked them back in his drawer before meeting Liza’s eyes.
“I thought you were...”
“Sick?” she finished for him, and then slouched into the guest chair at his desk, making herself comfortable by kicking up her boots and stretching back in a way that affected him in dark and deep places.
The passage of night and the murky thoughts of apprehending her family had not dulled the ache in his body for want of her touch. She looked picture perfect. Brown glossy hair. Tanned face, sharp and stubborn jaw, wide lips. Curious eyes laced with awareness too clever to miss anything. She knew he studied her longer than appropriate, and she welcomed it by stretching her arms behind the chair to expose the swell of her breasts beneath her white blouse. Her bra was black today. A rosette pattern of lace. Had she made a mistake or was she deliberately trying to heat his blood?
The answer would come when she either buttoned her jacket to hide the lace or left it open before leaving the room. He supposed he could always just ask her.
He cleared his throat. “Letisha said your brother had called in sick for you.”
Two brows squished together. “I know. Can you believe that ass-wipe? He thinks I need more training, but I said I have you now, so not to worry.”
Her blind faith in him pinged a spark between his ribs. Hearing her blow off Parker’s orders sent another spark kindling. He liked that she came to him for support, but... she was wrong.
He planted palms on the desk and splayed his fingers before leaning toward her, returning her glib contemplation for something more unwavering. “What makes you think you don’t have to worry around me?”
She paused. Her brow flinched as if she was trying to assess his veracity, but then shrugged it off. “Because you’ve always had my back, and I’ve had yours. I may have lost my way a little. As you said, I got a little jaded, but now we’re partners again. I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.”
Her gaze lingered a beat longer than normal, and then she pulled out her cell. “I think we should head to the shelter today. I’m not sure if that runaway will be there long. Most of them bail after the first night.”
“No,” he said.
“What?”
He went to his door, shut it, and then turned to her. “We’re not going anywhere until we talk. We’re not going to sweep last night under the rug.”
She gaped, scoffed as though she would rebuff but then softened and said, “Yeah, well, maybe I was afraid that if I talked, you’d run away again, just like you always do.”
“I don’t run away.”
“Yes, you do.” She held up leather-clad fingers and pointed them out. “Exhibit A, last night. Exhibit B, in my garage when I told you to get the ball from my pocket. You said you liked me and then bolted. Exhibit C, in seventh grade, you were supposed to meet me behind the blue trash can in the cafeteria on Valentine’s Day and we were going to swap puddings. You failed to turn up. I rest my case.”
He arched a brow. “Seventh grade? Really?”
“Yes, you dick. Seventh grade. Pudding. Valentine’s Day.” She widened her eyes with an attempt at intimidation. “I remember everything, Luciano.”
He scratched his head. The pudding incident had been the year after they’d started hanging out. The summer they’d met was well and truly over, and Parker had just left for his first year “studying abroad” but his warning to stay away from his sister had been fresh in Joe’s mind, and Wyatt’s ever-looming presence had seemed to grow darker without his level-headed, older brother to keep him in check.
“I don’t remember it being Valentine's Day,” he muttered.
“The point is, you tend to avoid tough conversations. Even the ones about your…” Her voice trailed off, but then she rallied and looked him in the eyes. “About your parents. We never talked. We just sat there and shared the silence.”
“I was a kid back then, Liza. I’m not now.”
Her gaze sharpened as she took him in with feminine appreciation. “I know.”
“I’m just trying to figure out how I fit into this.”
Liza stood and pulled something out of her back pocket before putting it on the table. It was a folded picture of the two of them grinning at each other on their first day in the police academy, dorky T-shirts, dull haircuts, and bright cheeks. He remembered it vividly. They’d both been so surprised to have enlisted in the same class but were giddy with excitement at having someone to share the experience with. Well, Joe had been giddy with plenty of other feelings too. Liza had grown from a fifteen-year-old budding beauty to a hard-as-nails hidden rose. Anyone else who tried to talk to her got a browbeating, but not him. All the male rookies had been jealous of him. He’d been so smug.
She pointed at the picture.
“You think you had no choice in this, but neither did I.” Her eyes glistened. She swallowed with barely restrained emotion, and when she spoke, her voice had turned tight. “But from what I’m seeing there, we couldn’t have been happier to know our partner was someone already proven to be trustworthy. I know when I left to train, we drifted apart. But somehow, we found each other again. And now, for the third time, the stars have aligned and we’re here.” She tapped his chest, and then hers. “That’s not a consolation prize, Joe. That’s destiny.”
“Liza Lazarus talking about destiny?” he asked sardonically, then winced at his attempt of disrupting the intensity of their conversation.
“I have to believe it,” she insisted. “Because without it, then all I have to go on is that life is shitty. I was born in a lab. I put my life on the line when there is corruption and sin around every corner. And loving someone only brings me pain. I don’t want that life for myself. I don’t.” She choked up and turned away, stiff.
He didn’t know what to say, so picked up the picture. They did look happy. Innocent. Hopeful. Naive. He complained about not having a choice, but neither did she. No one did in life. You’re born into your circumstances, but you can build your way out of them. Hard work was his version of destiny. And if he wanted to make his own, then he had to lay the first brick himself.
A knock came at the door a moment before a hurried shout. “We got a body!”
Liza wiped her eyes as his phone pinged with an incoming text.
“There’s been a homicide,” Liza murmured, eyes grave.
He nodded and pulled out his cell. When the message hit his brain, a sinking feeling leveled his gut.
“Same MO as our guy,” he said.
Shit.
The dead body belonged to a fifteen-year-old girl. At least, that’s what the medical examiner was currently telling Joe. She was unrecognizable from all the blood, viscera, and gore. Naked from the waist down, her body had been dumped on the muddy banks under the Vermillion Bridge near the South-Side industrial area.
A bearded homeless man pushing an overflowing cart cursed when he was stopped from getting to his shanty tent, right next to the crime scene. Another homeless man threw an empty bottle of beer with a shout to not touch his things as
an officer finished cordoning off the area.
Liza’s subdued murmur floated in and out of the occasional angry shout as she took witness statements. He’d never known Liza to avoid a body like this, but the minute they’d arrived, her face had paled, and she turned away without another word.
Joe used his pen to lift wet hair from the girl’s face. A plastic pink clip fell from her hair. It was the kind you bought at a dime store or won in those little coin machines you found at the mall. She was so young. Innocent. Probably a first-time runaway.
At the thought, a cold stone dropped in his stomach. Hadn’t Liza said she’d come across a runaway? He glanced at her, and then back to the girl. If this was who they were meant to see at the shelter yesterday, it would explain her reluctance.
Joe straightened. The examiner’s bald head shone with sweat. His long fingers plucked a hanky from his pocket and blew his nose.
Scenes like this could get to even the most seasoned.
“What else have you found?” Joe asked.
“Just like the other ones,” the examiner said. “She’s been brutalized, cut open with surgical precision, and has organs missing. I’ll know more at the morgue, but at first glance, it seems like a liver, a kidney, and her uterus. Lack of blood on the ground suggests this happened elsewhere.”
“Christ.”
“She got in a few good scratches, though. We’ve retrieved samples from beneath her fingernails.”
“Good. Let me know what you find out.”
“Will do.”
Joe put his notebook away and strode toward where Liza interviewed a woman wearing a blanket and a beanie. He was sure he’d already seen her speak to that person.
He cleared his throat to let her know he was there, but then stayed at a respectful distance until she finished.
With bleak eyes, Liza said, “It’s not safe out here.” She wrote something on a card and handed it to the woman. “Ask for this person at the shelter. She’ll look after you.”
The woman nodded but didn’t look like she’d do it. In Cardinal City, a dead body down here was something they saw every other day.
Lust Page 14
