Ballistic (16 page)

“I get it
, Anthony,” she says. “I’m not judging you or mad. I was just curious.”

“You expect me to buy that?”

“Yes, because it’s true. I don’t like it, but I can’t change it either. I don’t want to compare pasts because I’ll lose that argument. I just wasn’t expecting someone like her. She wasn’t a nice person. You could do better.”

Leaning forward
, taking her good hand, I whisper only for her to hear, “I did do better.”

“Now that,” she says
, coming across the table to kiss me, “was a great answer.”

Finishing dinner we make small talk and after a while the patrons stopped staring at us. Finally able to relax knowing
the drama is over, she’s fed and relaxed, I pay the bill and we head back to the car. Just before I open her door, she tells me she’ll be right back. Watching her round the corner, I follow at a safe distance. She approaches a man bundled up on the curb, touches his shoulder and hands him her carryout. When he tries to thank her, she nods and walks away. If my pop were here he’d be just as proud of her as I was. My woman was fucking special. Once we’re home, though, she did an about face and I can see she’s restless and looking like a lion in a cage. Watching her pace and mumble to herself, I have to wonder what in the fuck happened between there and here. But like all men, I waited for the explosion.

And then
, I got it.

I’m jealous of every woman that’s ever held his attention
before me. My worry was that there were many, that they were beautiful, normal and waiting for me to fuck this up to take him from me.

You don’t take from me.

Ever.

Jealousy is an evil bitch.

It’s coursing through me and no matter what I do
, I can’t stop it. Pacing doesn’t work and since I don’t meditate, I’m ready to rip the walls down one handed. Hardly noticing the pain in my right hand, I need something to do or better yet, someone to hurt. Feeling like this doesn’t look good on me. Most things don’t look good on me. Stripes, lycra, capris or tube tops, just to scratch the surface. I recognize a meltdown in progress when I see myself in his hallway mirror. Grabbing my keys and phone I need to clear my head because this rage I’m feeling isn’t his fault but, it does need an outlet.

“Where are you going?”

“To get ice cream or commit a felony,” I tell him, walking to the door. “I’ll decide in the truck.”

“Talk to me
, Sherlock,” he says, pulling me back inside. “What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?” Staying silent, I just want to leave so I can harness my chi or whatever the hell it’s called in private. Actually, as soon as I said it, ice cream did sound pretty damn good. “P
iękno,” he says. “Are you jealous?”

Oh no he didn’t.

I will never admit that this is what jealousy looks like. People say envy looks bad on people, wrong! Jealousy looks bad on people, horrible even. I have enough image issues without adding this to the mix. “Who taught you to speak polish?” I ask, narrowing my eyes on him. If he’s going to block the door then he’s going to get the backlash for it.
P
iękno means beauty and the way he says it actually makes me feel that way. It’s also freaking me out because he’s serious.

“My parents did,” he says
, walking me back toward the couch “I know the basics. Enough to pick up on what you say when you’re out of it.”

“
Bullshit, I don’t speak it anymore,” I argue. “You’re wrong.”

“You do speak it,” he corrects me
. “Beautifully too.”

“I do not,” I growl
, but can’t find the lie in his words.

“You do, piękno. Why are you so pissed?”

Seething with anger and jealousy, I’m seriously close to crying. I haven’t knowingly spoken it since I was a child. My parents spoke it thinking I didn’t understand the awful things they were saying about me, when in fact I did. It hurts to know my parents thought I was an evil mistake. Regrets have never been my thing, but teaching myself my father’s native language was one of them. If I didn’t understand them, I couldn’t hear the truth. I should have left it alone, but I didn’t. I like to learn and I needed the truth. When I got it, I knew how they really felt and it hardened me. Ashamed, embarrassed, slighted and unable to love something like me, that’s how they felt about their own kid. Yet when I was vulnerable, he heard me and understood me. I don’t like it one bit. I’m also feeling murderous because I’m positive that hooker Jessica had abs. I’ve never had abs a day in my life and I call bullshit when people with them act like it’s no big d or, gee it’s just good DNA. Liars. Abs are awesome and I’ve yet to meet someone with them that doesn’t think so either.

“Talk to me,” he orders
, snapping me back to the present. “Do not fucking shut me out!”

The walls are squeezing me, the ceiling is crashing down and if I don’t move
, I’ll be crushed. Turning and running for the door, I’m about to open it when he’s there using his big arms as vices, keeping me in place. “It’s okay, piękno,” he says, kissing my head to calm me. “You can tell me.”

Feeling extremely emotional and
unstable, I just lose it. “I can’t be jealous,” I wail. “If I’m jealous, it means I care. I can’t care. I won’t fucking do it! I want abs, dammit!”

“You already have,” he whispers
, calming me down and that only makes it worse. “It’s okay Lina, I have too. What about abs? Your body is perfect the way it is.”

“Let me go,” I beg him
. “Please.”

When his arms release
me, I’m disappointed he gave in so quickly, but I’m still ready to bolt just the same. Only I can’t because he whips me around and plasters me against the frame of the door. “I will not let you go, god dammit,” he growls. “I’m trying to tell you I belong to you. Look at me,” he orders and when I look up, I’m torn apart. “You own me.”

At this point
, I’m incoherent. He cannot be serious. I own my truck that’s it and even that is overdue on an oil change and a tire rotation. Now that I think about it, my right windshield wiper is busted too. I kill houseplants and splash people with puddles when I drive by because it’s funny. I am not fit to own a human. Shit, I can barely take care of myself.

“I am fuck
ing serious,” he growls at me. “I don’t have houseplants and if someone is stupid enough to be near a puddle when there’s traffic, it’s their own fault. You do own me, Lina and I’ll take care of you if you’d sit still long enough to let me.” Blinking up at him I have no words, not a one. “Yes,” he says, helping me out. “You said all of that out loud.”

“Shit,” I mumble
, feeling like an idiot.

“Are you jealous
, Lina?”

“Yes
, Anthony, as a matter of fact I am,” I admit, staring directly in his eyes

“Good.” He says backing away from me. Hold up
…“Good?”

“Yeah good,” he says lighting two smokes and handing me one “I can’t be the only one feeling like a fucking psycho around here.”

“I don’t like jealousy,” I offer up, “It doesn’t make me feel right.”

“I know,” he says
, taking a hit and offering it to me. “Come here.”

Making my way over
, I stand between his legs inhaling, then exhaling away from him. “Jealousy means we care,” he explains. “It’s going to happen. Christ with the way men look at you, I’m jealous all the time.”

“Me?” I ask
, confused “Have you seen you?”

“I’ve got nothing on you, Sherlock,” he says
, patting my ass. “Now, do you want that ice cream or can I take you upstairs, lay you down in our bed and have you proper?”

“Can we get ice cream first?” I ask
. “I perform better when I’m maxed out on sugar.”

“Yeah,” he says
, smirking. “We can get ice cream first.”

So I said
“fuck you” to abs and ate my ice cream like a queen. But on our way back I received a call from Jules that ruined my sugar buzz. Without even a heads up, she went back to DC on her boss Mack’s orders. Max outted her in front of her team and she left to face the firing squad without them, prepared to take all the blame for her actions. Fucking Max. Will the guy ever figure it out? Shit.

Does the man not get that she put it on the line for him? Jules is my best friend and though I know all about him, I’ve never met him in person. She always kept me in the loop from DC and I kept her in the loop about his father. If my hand wasn’t already busted
, I’d consider breaking it on
his
face. I’m over him torturing my best friend because he’s a pussy. Well not as much as he used to be, but still. One pussy in a relationship is enough, two just complicates things, or so I’ve heard. I have a friend that would argue that, but since I’ve not had pussy, I can’t say one way or the other. I’m totally just speculating.

Turning to Anthony
, I ask his opinion on what I’ve just heard. I expected him to be team Max, but surprisingly he wasn’t. “He hasn’t had the best role model in Hank,” he says, turning into his subdivision. “But he should know better. He’s wanted her in his life for years, but she comes back and he repeats the same mistake over and over. If he can’t put his fears aside, it’s probably best she left,” he says, pulling in the driveway. “She deserves a life.”

“I agree,” I tell him
, turning in my seat to face him. “But she doesn’t just love him. He is her entire focus. Always has been. I’ve never known her to quit anything. She went back without him or her team which means she’s officially done.”

“Max will be a wreck.”

“He deserves it,” I groan. “She doesn’t.”

“What
do we do?”

“What we always do,”
I whisper while my heart breaks for her. “We watch and we wait.”

That night we went to bed
, but we didn’t connect. Anthony was lost in his own world as much as I was. My best friend, my sister, was no doubt heart broken and there was nothing I could do. Maxwell Allen was a mystery I couldn’t solve. I sent her several text messages, but she never responded. So yeah, she’s hurting and she’s probably lost her job too.

Not being able to sleep, I get up and make my way to his
spare room quietly. Lighting up, I gather my notes putting them in order by date. Venessa’s parents’ deaths were called in first, Anthony’s parents, two hours later. The same officers responded to both crime scenes. That should not be possible.

Taking the officer’s files and adding them to the timeline
, I run their names in the database to see if they were still active. As of three weeks after the murders of both families, neither officer reported back to work. Hacking the system, I see why. Both officers were shot, execution style in their own homes and no investigation was noted. Slap my ass and call me Shirley, but the name on file for both reports was from the captain himself.

Ho boy.

Watching The Honeymooner’s reruns I can hear my mother arguing with my father. It’s rare they argue at all, so I turn the television down to listen.

“You should be in bed,” he
said, opening the oven.

“I sleep when you sleep,” she
said, getting food from the fridge.

“I’ll sleep when this case is over
. I don’t want you wearing yourself out waiting on me.”

In a quiet voice
, I hear my mother tell him, “I will always wait for you,” she whispers. “I’ll sleep when I know you’re home safe and I’ll know that because you’re there next to me.”

“Christ Vera,” he whispers
, pulling her to him. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“If I remember correctly
, you chased me incessantly and you didn’t stop until my legs were tired.”

“You ran track,” he
laughed. “Your legs never got tired.”

“True,” she
giggled. “Maybe I was just ready to be caught.”

“I love you, Vera.”

“I love you, Anthony,” she said back. “Now eat. I’ve got a honey do list that won’t do itself.”

Turning my show back on
, I knew what my parents had was special and rare. I hoped that one day I’d have it too.

I was stretched too thin. Between worrying about Max and trying to get through to Lina these last few days, I was exhausted. She stays up in that room from morning to night. She only comes out to use the bathroom or grab coffee, if I don’t bring it to her fast enough. Bringing her food she doesn’t eat, making conversation she doesn’t hear, I can honestly say this was a mistake.

I miss her.

This isn’t her. This is an obsession.

Last night I woke to find her asleep sitting up (again). When she does speak to me
, it’s only about the case and even then it’s like I’m a whiteboard she’s writing ideas on. She isn’t actually looking for my opinion at all. I already feel like shit for not being there for Max, but I can’t get through to her either and I don’t know what the fuck to do.

Standing in the doorway
, I take a photo of her with her head bent, completely focused on the case. The case I asked her to take. When her phone rings she doesn’t even blink. Seconds later when it rings again, she reaches down and answers.

“What?”

Then for several minutes she sits there listening wearing no expression, no emotion, nothing. Slowly like she’s almost frozen, she lowers the phone, placing it in her lap. Shaking her head she picks it back up, dials a number and completely changes again.

“Saved the day, lost your man, your job and moving on? You sure stay busy.”

Then, lighting a cigarette, she continues a conversation with who can only be Jules. “I do know you,” she says. “Where are you headed?” Pausing, she makes notes, then fires up her laptop. “So, since you are unemployed and not likely to sign up for a sewing circle, I’m going to need you to come back home.”

Typing in a web address she carries on
. “I wasn’t asking,” she says with her fingers flying over the keyboard. “Wait, did I sound like I was? You wanted me to help, I did. I also betrayed a lot of fucking people to do it, so march that sassy ass back home and call me when you get here. We have work to do.”

“Depends,” she says quietly
. “Do you still love him, Jules?” Suddenly she stands up and throws a fist in the air and does some weird touchdown dance then sits back down. “For once you and I are in agreement. Check your phone; sent you your flight info. Now call those nagging bitches back, would you? They keep blowing up my shit. See you soon.”

Taking a huge hit she twirls in her chair, still not noticing me and yeah that hurts because, I am
right here
. Dialing again, I come further into the room and take a chair. “Her flight number is 1737 arriving at 2:25pm tomorrow,” she says, making notes. “She will be looking to grab a cab and head to the Westin. Now, I have it on good authority you love my best friend.”

She pauses rolling her eyes
. “Yeah, whatever,” she says, smiling. “If this blows up in my face in return, I’m going to blow up in your face, just so we’re clear. I don’t like it when she’s sad, Max. Thing is, around you she tends to be disgustingly happy when you’re not ruining shit. 2:25 Max. Oh! Now that she’s a civie she won’t be armed, but don’t think if she decides to destroy you that she’ll need guns for it.”

Taking a long hit she exhales
. “Jesus,” she says inhaling. “I thought she was kidding when she you had feelings. For god sakes, man turn off the sap tap.”

Disconnecting the phone she spins around to face me wearing a huge smile. “Feel like
crashing a wedding?” She asks wagging her eye brows at me.

“You knew I was here?”

“I always know when you’re close by,” she says, walking over to sit on my lap. “Are you up for it?”

“I can’t stay hidden forever can I?”

“It’s time, Anthony,” she says quietly. “I’m close, real close.”

“About that,” I start
, wanting to call it quits but she cuts me off before I can.

“Max told me Jules was taken
, right? First a uniform drew on her in public, but word on the street is my girl shot him in the throat. She’s a helluva of shot. That guy was a distraction, then the perp used Macy’s drug to transport her and it backfired. Also, the chip Duffy had inserted into her ovary blew when it was activated, almost killing her when the second uniform took her. We will have words about that by the way. Here’s the thing,” she says, looking eager, “a cop took her. He was given orders to, only then another cop shows up, right? I’m thinking they’d be in this together right? Bros and all that, only he fucking shoots the guy right in the forehead!”

“No shit.”

“No shit, indeed.”

“Both cops are dead?” I ask
, already knowing the answer.

“
Jules handled the uniform that drew, but the second uniform showed up and took out the first uniform holding her. The second guy was actually trying to save her. He was the one with her when her ovary blew. He told Max he couldn’t do it, couldn’t be a part of it and decided to help her instead. He’s a dead man walking and left for DC with the team to buy some time. But why would a city cop even think to shoot someone, another cop in that manner?”

“Because he was ordered to.”

“Exactly. Well kind of. They were both ordered to kill her but didn’t. Instead each wanted to save her. At least, I think they were supposed to kill her. Maybe detain her, who really knows? They both wanted out. However, number two kills number one to climb the food chain, maybe? Either way, with him gone, he was free to move her to another location. That took balls. I need to find more cops like this one.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Huh? Well, yeah. Did you even hear me?”

Leaning in
, I kiss her on the mouth. “I heard every word. Welcome back,” I say, quietly. “I’ll make you something to eat.”

“I wasn’t gone
, Anthony,” she says, stopping me. “I was just working on your case like you asked me to. I’m close, aren’t you happy?”

Leaving the room to head downstairs to feed her
, I decide I’m going to tell her. But how do I tell her that every hour she spends working on that case, she moves farther and farther away from me?

I know for a fact that I can’t have justice and her. Even thinking that I could
, would be a lie. I want her more than I want justice. I want her more than I want anything.