Deep Dark Night Read online

  ‘No.’ Monroe stops mid-pace. Turns to JT. ‘Not yet.’

  JT frowns. ‘Why not? The guy just—’

  ‘Look, Cabressa is totally OCD about things. It’s a well-known fact. Something he’s made a part of his image – nothing overlooked, every issue dealt with.’

  I take a step closer to JT. His muscular bulk and chilled attitude is a whole lot more appealing than Monroe’s angry mania. ‘Maybe he just doesn’t want these chess pieces all that bad,’ I say.

  Monroe turns to face me. ‘He wants them, believe me.’

  I frown. ‘A man like that, head of the top mob family, can buy anything he wants. There are other valuable chess sets out in the—’

  ‘Not like this one,’ snaps Monroe. ‘Cabressa was in Vegas for the game back in eighty-six. He took his favourite son, his youngest, Roberto – a hell of a chess player himself, so I’m told, and a real fan of the game. It was the boy’s seventeenth birthday.’

  ‘So he wants it as a present for the son?’

  Monroe shakes his head and runs his hand through his over-long red-brown hair, making it stick up. It makes him look like a greying rooster. ‘Roberto died a few days later back in Chicago. There was a pile-up on the freeway outside the city, nine vehicles – the boy never stood a chance. Cabressa was still in Vegas when it happened. The last time he saw his son had been the night of the chess match.’

  I bite my lip. Hell, losing a child, that’s the kind of pain a parent can’t ever recover from. ‘Cabressa wants the chess pieces to remind him of that last time with his son?’

  ‘He’s been after these pieces a long time,’ says Monroe. ‘You gave Critten the pawn, yes?’

  I nod. ‘I told you that I did, but that he gave it right back.’

  Monroe mutters something to himself then looks back at me. ‘Then we’ll have to hope it isn’t all lost.’

  ‘But the man just walked away,’ says JT. ‘That’s a pretty clear demonstration of not being interested.’

  ‘Sure,’ I say. ‘But if what Monroe’s saying about Cabressa is true he’ll still want this chess set.’

  Monroe nods. ‘We need to wait. He’ll get in touch.’

  JT looks from me to Monroe and lets out a long whistle. Doesn’t look a whole lot convinced. ‘Maybe.’

  Monroe frowns. The tension between Monroe and JT hangs thick in the air. JT doesn’t trust Monroe an inch, and right now they look like two stags ready to lock horns.

  I move over to the bed and sit down as I change the subject. ‘So who’s Herron?’

  Monroe looks real worried. ‘Who told you about him?’

  ‘Critten asked if I worked for him. I said no.’

  ‘In truth, we don’t know who Herron is. My sources tell me the rumours started a couple of months back, every time a shipment went missing, stashes got robbed, or a club got turned over, the word on the street was that Herron was behind it. They’re saying he’s the new man in the city, with a fresh crew, and that’s making everyone twitchy.’

  ‘Even Cabressa?’ JT says.

  ‘Especially Cabressa.’ Monroe rubs his hand across his chin. ‘And when Cabressa gets twitchy, there’s usually a bloodbath.’

  A wave of nausea floods through me. I swallow hard. Fix Monroe with my gaze. ‘I didn’t sign up for that.’ I glance at JT. ‘We didn’t sign up for it.’

  Monroe gives me a crocodile smile. ‘But you’re here, and you got a job to do.’

  ‘This is a sting, not a combat operation.’ JT’s expression is real serious. His tone no-shit determined. ‘Things get messy, we’re out.’

  Monroe glares at him a beat longer than is comfortable. Then he laughs. ‘Yes it’s a sting, for sure, and you’re not here as cannon fodder, but I don’t want any mistakes, you got to make sure you do the job right.’

  I can tell from the firm set of his jaw that JT’s pissed. I’m feeling the same way. I catch Monroe’s gaze. Raise my eyebrows. ‘You doubting us now?’

  Monroe sighs. ‘Look, for the Bureau the pieces are the tip of the iceberg. You do your job right, and we arrest Cabressa for handling stolen goods. Taking him into custody will send a ripple through the mob’s world, and word will get around fast to the other crime families here in the city. When we’ve arrested him before there’s not been enough evidence to make things stick, but we do this right and we’ll be able to hold him. That’ll disrupt the power he has over the city.’ Monroe’s getting more passionate as he speaks. ‘People will see he’s in trouble and they’ll want to talk, cut a deal, before they get pulled in. The crime eco-system will be in flux, and that’ll give us the chance to get more dirt on Cabressa. Then we can lock him up for good.’

  I’ve never seen Monroe so passionate about catching a criminal, and I know for a fact that he’s only really interested in doing things where he personally benefits. I tilt my head to one side. ‘Why this guy; why not one of the others?’

  ‘What the hell does it matter to you?’ Monroe growls.

  ‘I’m curious why you’re getting your panties in such a wad. And if I’m risking my hide for this, why don’t you humour me?’

  Monroe is silent for a long moment. Shakes his head. ‘Look, I lost a promotion when the sting I planned last time failed … That made this personal. If I lose again this time, my career’s over.’ He glares at me. ‘That a good-enough reason for you?’

  ‘Sure,’ I say. But, as I watch him start to pace again, I wonder if he’s told me the whole truth. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s lied to me. And when he does lie, things have a habit of getting real dangerous, real fast.

  3

  Monroe leaves a few minutes later, but the tension remains in the room. The confusing meet with Critten and the conversation afterwards with Monroe has me feeling jacked up as a junkie on crystal, and I can’t work out if it’s the fear of failure or the fear that the job will go ahead that’s causing my adrenaline to spike.

  Getting up from the bed, I cross the room to the coffee maker and start to fix a mug. I fumble with the mechanism. My hands tremble as I slot the coffee pod into the machine.

  JT moves closer to me. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ I say, struggling until the pod clicks into place. Then I fill the water reservoir and press the button. Watch the coffee start to drip through into the mug below. Clench my hands into fists to stop them shaking.

  JT looks real concerned. He puts his hand on my shoulder. ‘Like I said, Lori, you don’t have to do this.’

  ‘But I really do. This whole situation has me stuck tighter than a hair in a biscuit. It’s the only way I can pay the debt I owe Monroe.’

  ‘But you know he only helped you out on that Miami job because it suited him? He wasn’t doing you any favours.’

  ‘For sure.’

  ‘Then walk away.’ JT shakes his head. ‘You don’t owe that man a damn thing.’

  JT might be right, but things didn’t work like that. ‘He’ll always have a hold on me if I don’t do this, and you know that’s the truth – if I do something he doesn’t like he’ll find some way to make our lives hell. Shit, he’ll probably try and throw you in jail again just to spite me.’

  JT looks thoughtful. He looks at me with those big old blues of his. Squeezes my shoulder. ‘I guess you’re right. But working for him on this? Hell, I sure don’t like it any.’

  ‘Me neither.’ I lean into his hand. Hold his gaze. I can sense that there’s something more he wants to say, but he’s holding back. That’s kind of the story of our relationship – things left unsaid, stuff left unresolved. I don’t want it to be that way, and I can guess what’s eating at him. I take a deep breath. ‘You want to talk about Dakota and the bone-marrow donor thing?’

  He lets go of my shoulder. Takes a step back. ‘Jeez, Lori, you want to have that conversation right now?’

  Beside me the coffee maker gurgles and hisses as the last of the coffee filters into the mug. I keep my focus on JT. ‘We’ve been putting it off, and I can tell it’s
eating at you.’

  ‘Maybe we should get this job—’

  ‘Could be I don’t survive the job. I don’t want you never knowing.’

  ‘Don’t talk like that.’ He looks hurt, worried.

  ‘Talk like what? Honestly?’

  JT shakes his head. ‘Okay, look, while we were on the boat with Red, Dakota told me how when she was real sick and they were thinking the cancer wasn’t going to respond to the treatment, they said she might need a bone-marrow donor.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘She said you got tested but you weren’t a good match.’

  Tears prick my eyes as I remember my sweet baby girl, just eight years old then, lying in the hospital bed. Skinny and sick, she’d looked as pale as the bed sheets. It was the worst time in both our lives. ‘Yes.’

  JT frowns. ‘You never got in touch with me, even when our daughter was so sick she might die. I could be a match – but you never even gave me the chance to—’

  ‘It didn’t come to that. She started responding to the treatment, and the doctors stopped talking about needing a donor.’

  ‘What if she’d died back then? I’d never have known I had a daughter.’ There’s hurt in his eyes, and a whole lot of it. His voice is loaded with emotion as he says, ‘You would have robbed me of that, Lori.’

  It’s true, I would have. But back then I had no idea JT would even like the idea of having a daughter, let alone be happy to find out he’d gotten the real thing. Ten years ago, he’d been a reclusive bounty hunter and I’d been grieving the death of my best friend, who’d been shot in front of me by my good-for-nothing husband, Tommy. Tommy had evaded the cops and disappeared into the wind. JT had helped me find him. He’d taught me how to track a man and how to capture him. But when it came to me bringing him in, Tommy attacked me, and I emptied my gun into him. JT never understood why I didn’t shoot to disable rather than kill, just as he’d taught me. I couldn’t explain why either. That night, as JT helped me bury Tommy’s body, our romance died. The next day I packed my belongings in silence and drove out of JT’s life. Four months later, when I realised I was pregnant, I made the decision never to tell him – he’d let me go and he’d never once tried to make contact after the fact. He’d been the love of my life, but I’d gotten used to the idea that I’d never see him again. And it’d stayed that way until earlier this year, when a job brought us into contact, and back together. Since then we’ve been trying to figure things out.

  ‘After the way things ended between us I never thought—’

  JT sighs. ‘I lost it. That night, with Tommy fresh under the dirt, I wasn’t thinking straight.’ He steps closer. Softens his tone. ‘I forgave you a long time ago, Lori. But seems you couldn’t bring yourself to forgive me?’

  He’s right. I couldn’t, not for a real long time, and then, when the hurt of how he’d reacted to me in the aftermath of Tommy’s death had dulled a little, it felt like it was too late to make amends. Still, a relationship goes both ways. ‘If I had my time over, I’d tell you. But that’s with hindsight and the knowledge that you were happy to learn about Dakota. Back then things were different. No, I didn’t tell you, and yes I am sorry about that, but you near as dammit threw my ass out on the street, and although you’re saying you forgave me, you didn’t come find me either.’

  ‘I didn’t. And I’ve regretted that for a long, long time.’ He reaches out and takes my hands in his.

  My mouth goes dry and my heart hammers against my ribs for a whole other reason than earlier. It’s always been this way between us. His touch ignites something in me no other man ever has, but it’s not just the physical stuff; it’s the connection and the way I feel with him, how he is with Dakota, and the fact I know for sure that he would do anything to protect our daughter, even if it cost him his life.

  JT gazes into my eyes real serious and says, ‘So where does that leave us?’

  ‘Here. Now,’ I say, squeezing his hands. ‘Let’s start again from now.’

  ‘Deal,’ says JT.

  I press my lips against his and we kiss. He wraps his arms around me and I melt my body against his. In this moment I feel calm, and secure, and happy. JT has always felt like safety.

  My cell vibrates in my pocket. The maximum-volume ringtone blasting out like the horn of the Staten Island ferry. Reluctantly, I pull away from JT and take out my phone. I smile when I see the caller ID.

  Pressing answer, I accept the FaceTime call. ‘Hello sweetheart.’

  Dakota’s face fills the screen. Her long strawberry-blonde hair is pulled up in a messy bun on the top of her head. Her vivid blue eyes, just like her daddy’s, are bright, and she’s got a big smile on her face. ‘Hey Momma. Mr Red said it would be okay to call. Is it okay? Is JT with you? What’s Chicago like?’

  I laugh at the barrage of questions. Turning the phone, I angle it so she can see JT on screen as well. ‘Of course it’s okay to call – it’s great you’re calling. We’re both here. Chicago is nice but not as hot as where you are.’

  ‘We’re on the boat,’ says Dakota. She pans her phone’s camera round, giving us a glimpse of the green-and-gold livery of my good friend and trusted confidante, Red’s, houseboat. ‘Mr Red is teaching me how to sail. Today I was allowed to steer her all by myself.’

  ‘That sure sounds a lot of fun,’ says JT. ‘What was Red doing when you were steering?’

  ‘He was having a sleep.’ Although Dakota’s expression has turned serious, I can tell from the giggle in her voice she’s trying hard to conceal her mischief.

  I decide to play along. Gasping, I fake a shocked look. ‘He was doing what?’

  I hear Red chuckling in the background. He steps into the picture, crouching down beside Dakota. Silver hair, deep tan and a wicked smile, he looks relaxed and happy as he says to Dakota, ‘Don’t you go worrying your momma; tell her and JT the truth.’

  She giggles. ‘Don’t worry, Momma. We’re just messing with you. Mr Red was right next to me, teaching me how to steer. I was good, wasn’t I?’

  ‘That you were, Little Fish,’ says Red, the chuckle still in his voice.

  I raise an eyebrow at JT. ‘Little Fish?’

  ‘It’s what Mr Red calls me, because I’m such a great swimmer. We’re going swimming every day in the ocean. Mr Red has been teaching me how to dive too. First I had to do sitting dives but now he’s said I can do standing dives off the boat.’

  ‘I’m glad you’re having fun, honey.’

  Suddenly she frowns, and her tone changes. ‘When are you and JT coming back?’

  I look at JT. In truth we don’t know. I need to get this job done, and it could be I need to do a whole lot more grafting to get closer to Cabressa. The longer he takes to take the bait, the longer we’ll have to stay in Chicago.

  ‘We’re not sure,’ JT says. ‘Hopefully not too much longer.’

  ‘Well good,’ Dakota says. ‘Because I really want to show you my diving.’

  JT nods. ‘I’m looking forward to that.’

  ‘Me too,’ I say. ‘Honey, can I have a word with Red?’

  She frowns. ‘Why?’

  ‘Just boring grown-up stuff.’

  ‘Okay. But come home soon, Momma. Then we can all go swimming together.’ She passes the cell to Red.

  JT pours our coffee as I wait for Red to move across the boat, away from Dakota. As he walks, the camera shows the outside deck, the water lapping against the jetty, a gull pecking at something on the wooden boards. Then it swings upwards and Red reappears. ‘What’s on your mind, Miss Lori?’

  ‘Is she really doing okay?’ I can’t disguise the worry in my voice.

  ‘She’s doing real good. You don’t need to be worrying on that. Your little apple didn’t fall far from the tree – she’s tough, just like her momma. You just focus on doing what you need to get done, then get on back here.’

  ‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘For everything.’

  ‘You’ve no need to thank me, Miss Lori. It�
��s always a pleasure helping out.’

  ‘I’m thanking you anyhow.’

  Red puts his fingers to his forehead in a mock salute. ‘Appreciate that.’

  In the background I hear Dakota asking if they can practise diving again. I swallow down the feeling that I should be there with her, having these new experiences with her, not stuck in another city, in another state, thousands of miles from home. I force a smile. ‘You should go.’

  Red nods. ‘Be safe, Miss Lori.’

  ‘You too,’ I say, and then I end the call.

  I stand for a moment with the cell clutched to my chest. Fighting the urge to say to JT, Let’s grab our stuff, leave this hotel and jump on a plane back to Florida.

  He passes me a mug of coffee. Frowns as he sees the expression on my face. When he speaks it’s as if he can read my mind. ‘Lori, we can walk away from this. Whatever you decide, I’m with you.’

  The coffee is hot in my hand. The fear of failing, or worse – something bad happening to both me and JT, and our daughter getting orphaned – makes my stomach churn. There’s a sour taste in my mouth, and I feel like I might vomit. I feel this, but I still know that I can’t walk away. I made a deal with Monroe – a deal with a devil in federal agent’s clothing: his help for mine. And I never go back on my word.