Triple Time (18 page)

“How do you know I'm going to ask you to do anything?”

“You get this look in your eyes. They go all dark and broody, like you've got some sort of diabolical plan.” She shook her head. “But that's not the point. The point is, I can't do this anymore, Gabe. I can't be with you.”

The
trofie al pesto
he'd made for dinner rolled in his stomach. “What do you mean you can't be with me? Why?”

“I just...can't.”

“That's not an answer. If this is about one idiot senator's misguided opinion...”

“It's not.” She wiped a hand across her face. “Look, we had fun, right? But we both knew it couldn't last.”

“I'll tell you what I know.” He shot to his feet and took her hands in his before she could protest. He raised them to his chest and held them there so she could feel the rapid beating of his heart. “I know we're good together. I know you bring out a side of me I never knew existed, one that's more relaxed, happier. I know I want your face to be the last thing I see every night and the first thing I see every morning.”

She broke away from him with a bitter laugh. “Like The Rolling Stones say, you can't always get what you want.”

“So that's it?” He stuffed his hands in his pockets. The key scraped against his knuckles, taunting him. “That's all the explanation I'm going to get?”

“I'm sorry.” She wrapped her arms around herself, rocking back and forth on her heels. “So sorry. I...care for you. Really, I do. And I'll never forget how you found Victor for me...”

Cade's words echoed in his head.
Face it, bro.
She got what she wanted. And now you're afraid she's going to cut and run.

“Right. Our bargain. You've got your brother. I've got my endorsement. Time to go our separate ways.”

“Right,” she echoed, dropping her arms. He could have sworn he saw tears before she ducked her head, hiding her face in a curtain of dark hair. “Our bargain.”

He followed her to the living room. She grabbed her purse from the couch where, not even an hour ago, they'd been making out like a couple of sex-crazed teens. If he had known that was the last time he'd touch her, kiss her...Hell, he would have kept going and never let her up for air until she was willing to admit they belonged together.

“You're a great guy, Gabe.” She hitched her purse up on her shoulder and headed for the door. “And you're going to make a great district attorney.”

“If I'm so great then why are you leaving?”

She stopped, her hand on the doorknob, but didn't turn. “Like you said, we had a deal. Now it's done. Nothing to keep me here.”

“Nothing?” He came up behind her and brushed back the swath of hair over one ear to plant a kiss on her spider-web tattoo.

“Stop it.” She shook him off but not before he felt her tremble. “You're not playing fair.”

“All's fair in love and war.”

“So you've said before.” She yanked the door open. “But this isn't war. And it's not...it's not love, either.”

The door slammed behind her, reverberating throughout the apartment.

Gabe sank onto the sofa and reached into his pocket for the key. His instinct was to chuck it across the damned room, but he held himself in check and laid it carefully on the coffee table. He stared at it for a good ten minutes, wondering how the hell everything had gone to shit so fast.

Fuck.
Could that have been any worse? Sure, she could have told him he was boring, too. Although at least then he'd understand what went wrong. Instead, she'd given him some bullshit excuse.

He pulled out his cell phone and called Cade.

“Hardesty.” Cade's sleep-muffled voice came over the line.

“You on duty?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Gabe heard what sounded like sheets rustling in the background. “Night shift. Sleeping at the station.”

“Remember that promise you made to buy me twenty rounds when Devin dumped my ass?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, it's go time. My place. As soon as you're off.” Gabe eyed his almost empty liquor cabinet across the room. “And bring the hard stuff.”

 

18

Q
UARTER
AFTER
TEN
, and The Mark was practically deserted. Devin hated pulling midweek shifts. Half the time the money wasn't worth the effort. But when her bartender buddy had called and asked her to fill in for him again, she'd jumped on it. Hell, anything was better than sitting at home, pining over Gabe. Even spending the evening in the same room as Fast Fingers Freddie.

“Last one, cowboy.” She plunked his mug of cheap-ass, pisswater domestic beer down in front of him. “After this, you're cut off. And I'm calling you a cab.”

“Aww, c'mon.” He picked it up, sloshing foam on the mahogany bar top. “Couldn't you let me sleep it off here? Or maybe at your place?”

“Have you forgotten how my knee felt in your balls?” She grabbed a clean cloth from under the counter and wiped up the spill. “Because I'm happy to remind you.”

He shrugged and gulped his beer. “You can't blame a guy for trying.”

“Actually, yes, I can.”

She threw the now sopping towel into the sink and reached for the remote for the TV over the bar. The Yanks were way ahead. With no one but Freddie and a couple of off-duty cops who weren't paying attention to the TV, she could find something more entertaining on. Maybe
Chopped
. Or a rerun of
Full House
. She flicked through the channels, stopping when she heard a low-pitched, earnest, clearly recognizable voice.

“Jack Kentfield wants you to believe the city's in a state of crisis. He wants you to believe there are predators lurking around every corner that only he can save you from. Well, the numbers don't lie. And the numbers say violent crime has dropped every year since 1990. Murders are down more than twenty-five percent in the past two years, sexual assaults down almost seven percent and robberies eighteen percent.”

She put down the remote and stared at the screen. Gabe looked good in his Armani suit. Better than good, on the steps of an impressive marble building with the wind barely ruffling his almost military style hair. Even more importantly, he looked confident, comfortable, jockeying questions from reporters with a host of supporters surrounding him. She caught glimpses of Gabe's boss, as well as Senator Humphries and a man she recognized as a former point guard for the New York Knicks.

You've done well, grasshopper.
Her heart ached with a strange mixture of pride and regret. She'd been right. He was ready to fly solo.

“We've had eight successful years under Thaddeus Holcomb.” Gabe motioned to his boss, who came to stand beside him. “I plan to build on that by working together with law enforcement and the community to make our streets the safest in the nation. That's why today I'm officially announcing my candidacy for New York County District Attorney. Thank you.”

A few reporters tried to sneak in one last question, but they were drowned out by the applause of the crowd. Gabe strode down the stairs and off camera, shaking hands as he went, and the station cut back to the news anchors in studio.

“Turn that shit off.” Freddie lurched on his stool, barely catching himself before falling on his inebriated ass. “What happened to the game?”

“Game time's over for you, Freddie.” She grabbed the remote and clicked until it landed on an old episode of
The
Golden Girls
. That'd serve him right for complaining. Then she called the cab company.

“Drink up,” she told him when she ended the call. “Taxi'll be here in ten.”

After bringing the cops two more bottles of Yuengling, she headed around the bar to deal with a couple of newcomers at the table in the far corner. Dark suits, starched white shirts, power ties. Businessmen. Or lawyers. The Mark was popular with the legal set.

As she got closer, she could hear snippets of conversation.

“I don't know...nervous.”

“...nothing to worry about.”

“What if he...?”

“...told you...”

“...sure Nelson can't tie it to me?”

Devin froze. There must be hundreds of Nelsons in the Manhattan phone book. What were the odds they were talking about Gabe?

She ducked behind a pillar and listened, straining to catch every word.

“I've taken care of that. By the time I'm done with that security guard, no one will believe him, not even his own mother. Then they won't be able to tie the video tape to me. And if they can't tie it to me, they can't tie it to you.”

The first voice was crisp, matter-of-fact and familiar. Devin shrank back farther behind the post.

“Sounds simple enough.”

The second man spoke more deliberately, with a faint accent that sounded Eastern European.

“It is. My guys have dug up enough dirt on this guy to bury him six times over. And if they need more, they know how to manufacture it.”

“As long as you're sure...”

“Sure, I'm sure. No one will ever know we hid the surveillance tapes. And no one will figure out it's your son on the video. They'll never connect him to the murders.”

“How can you be positive of that?”

“That's what the twenty grand was for. My contact at the lab will make it so no technology in existence could enhance that tape enough for anyone to identify Phillip.”

“Thanks, Jack. I owe you one.”

Jack.
At least now she had a name.

“Let's see, you're endorsing me for DA and funding my political action committee...buy me a drink, and I think we can call it square.”

DA?

“I would, if I could find the bartender. Doesn't anyone work around this place?”

Devin backed away slowly. When she was out of earshot, she hauled ass to the storeroom, where the manager was taking inventory.

“Al, I need you to wait on the guys at table three.”

“I'm a little busy here.” He held up a bottle of margarita mix, studied it for a second, then tossed it into the trash can next to him. “Expired. In 2010.”

“I'll take over for you for a few minutes. Please. Just this one table.” She raced over to the desk in the corner and started searching through the drawers for a pen and paper. No way was she disturbing Gabe at night, at home, and it'd be hours before she could see him at his office. She had to jot down what she'd heard while it was still fresh in her mind.

Shit, shit, shit.
Why hadn't she thought to start the video rolling on her iPhone? Then she'd have hard evidence this Jack was fixing a case in order to win the election. Instead, Gabe would have to take her word for it. And she wasn't sure he'd trust her after she dumped him with virtually no explanation.

“Let me guess.” Al smirked. “Ex boyfriend?”

“More like future ex cons.”

Al threw another bottle into the garbage. “What's gotten into you? You've been acting weird all night.”

“I'm fine.” With one swoop of her arm, she cleared off the top of the desk and sat. Balancing the pad on one knee, she scrawled a few key words to help her remember what she'd heard.

Jack. DA. Surveillance tapes. Phillip. Murder.

When she was done, she looked up at Al, still sorting through the bottles on the storeroom shelves. “Are you going to help me or not?”

“Okay, I'll take care of your damn table.” He took off his apron and straightened his shirt collar. “But after I'm done, you're going to tell me what's going on.”

“Don't worry.” She went back to her notes. “If things go as planned, you'll hear all about it on every news outlet in the tristate area.”

* * *

“T
HERE
'
S
SOMEONE
HERE
to see you.”

Gabe looked up from the sentence he was reading for what must have been the tenth time to find his secretary standing in the doorway. “I thought I told you I didn't want to be disturbed,” he snapped, his tone harsher than he'd intended.

Stephanie jerked her head back and her eyes widened.

Crap
. He'd scared her. Again. He'd been a bear to work with since Devin dropped him like yesterday's
The
Wall Street Journal
. Between his bad mood and the nonstop phone calls Stephanie had been forced to deal with in the wake of his announcement, it was a miracle she hadn't turned in her resignation.

Neither one of them had been able to get any work done, which meant Gabe hadn't figured out a way to connect Jack to the missing surveillance video. And until he did, an innocent man sat in jail.

“I'm sorry.” Gabe gave his secretary what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “I know these past few weeks haven't been easy. And I trust your judgment. It must be important if you decided it was worth the interruption.”

“She says it's urgent.”

“She?”

“It's Devin. I tried to get her to leave a message or come back later, but she wouldn't take no for an answer.”

A jolt of adrenaline kicked his heart into overdrive. He could picture her, hands on her hips, feet firmly planted, tapping one of her Doc Martens impatiently on the green-and-white linoleum.

It must be urgent for her to break down and pay him a visit. Like end-of-the-world urgent. He'd tried calling her so many times in the three weeks, two days, fourteen hours and fifty-three minutes since she'd walked out of his apartment—not that he was keeping track or anything—that it bordered on harassment. But she'd never answered. Hadn't returned any of his calls. Made it painfully clear she didn't want a damned thing to do with him. Only an act of God would have made her come all the way downtown to see him.

Had something happened to Victor? Or Leo? He didn't dare hope Devin had changed her mind and rushed to his side the minute she realized she'd made a huge mistake leaving him.

A sappy thought that suddenly didn't seem so sappy.

He saved the document he was working on and pushed his chair back. “That's Devin, all right. Show her in.”

“I showed myself in.” Devin pushed past Stephanie and made herself at home in one of his guest chairs, crossing one smooth, bare leg over the other and sending his sex drive into orbit. “I couldn't take the chance you wouldn't see me.”

Gabe nodded to his secretary. “Thank you, Stephanie.”

He cleared his throat and loosened his tie, fighting his more primal instincts, which were screaming at him to throw her across the desk and reenact the steamy sex dreams he'd been having on a nightly basis.

“I had to see you.” Devin rummaged in her purse and pulled out a yellow legal pad. “It's urgent.”

“So my secretary told me.” Gabe picked up a pencil and twirled it in his fingers. “Must be to bring you down here.”

“It's about the election.”

He dropped the pencil. It bounced noisily on the desk, finally coming to rest next to his coffee cup. “The election?”

She nodded, her dark hair swinging. He was sure he could smell her almond shampoo, even across the desk. “Your opponent was at The Mark last night when I was tending bar.”

“Jack?”

“That's him. He...”

Gabe held up his hand, palm out, silencing her.

“Hold on.” He crossed to the door and checked the hall. Empty. With one final glance left and right to be sure no one was close by, he closed the door and returned to his seat.

“Now what's all this about?”

She pushed the pad across the desk. “I wrote it all down. I hope it's enough. I had my goddamn cell in my pocket the whole time, but I didn't think fast enough to hit Record.”

He read silently, his mind whirring as he absorbed what she'd written.

“Did anyone else hear this?” he asked when he was finished.

She shook her head. “What does it all mean?”

“It's complicated. But with your help, I should be able to expose Jack and free an innocent man.”

“And win the election,” she added.

He shrugged. “That's secondary. Did you get a good look at either one of them?”

“No. And they didn't see me.”

He damn well hoped not. Otherwise she could be in serious danger. There was no telling the lengths Jack would go to shut her up if he knew what she'd heard. “Do you think you could identify their voices?”

“Probably.” She frowned, her forehead creasing in concentration. “The first one sounded familiar, and the minute the second guy called him Jack it clicked. I met him that day in your office. And the other guy had an accent. Eastern European, I think. But I'd know his voice if I heard it again.”

Eastern European accent, with a son named Phillip? And enough money and influence to have an assistant district attorney in his pocket?
That could only be one guy. Ilya Roginsky, real estate mogul and owner of half the island of Manhattan.

Shit.
Gabe steepled his fingers under his chin. Roginsky was rumored to have connections with the Russian mob. Jack was small potatoes compared to him.

“Are you willing to swear to that under oath?” he asked. “Give a statement to my inspector? Testify in court if it comes to that?”

He hoped to hell it wouldn't. And if it did, he'd make damned sure she had a security detail around the clock. If anything happened to her... He ran a hand through his hair, not even able to contemplate what he'd do then.

Her bottom lip trembled for a split second before she pressed her mouth into a tight, thin line. “If that's what it takes. So you believe me?”

“Of course. Why wouldn't I?”

“I don't know, maybe because I broke up with you, didn't return any of your phone calls and showed up here unannounced, with some chicken scratch on a legal pad?”

He let out his breath in a long whoosh. “Whatever happened between us, you're no liar. I'd stake my career on that.”

“Thanks.” She twisted one of the studs in her ear and looked away. “I want you to know...”