Hard to Come By (26 page)

“This is Detective Kyler Vance, BPD,” Nick said, gesturing to the younger of the two men. Marz shook his hand. Dark hair, blue eyes, plain clothes. Guy probably wasn’t much older than Marz. And he was current BPD. Maybe that shouldn’t have unsettled Marz, but after everything they’d learned, it did.

“I see the questions in your eyes,” Kyler said. “Miguel was my godfather. He and my dad were partners on the force for years. He got us up to speed on the way over here. I’m aware you all have very good reasons for distrusting BPD.” He swallowed, hard. “But you can trust me. I want justice for Miguel. You can count on me for anything.” His unflinching gaze met each of Marz’s teammates’ eyes.

Marz nodded, appreciating the man’s words and feeling Miguel’s loss anew. As hard as it had hit him, he truly felt for the long-term relationship Kyler had surely had with Miguel.

“And this is Hugh Vance, Kyler’s father and Miguel’s partner,” Nick said.

Jesus
. It didn’t get much tighter than partners, did it? Marz shook Hugh’s hand. “So sorry for your loss.” He looked at Kyler, and the family resemblance struck him over the head. “For both of your losses.”

“I’ll second Ky’s sentiments. We are with you in this as much as you want us,” Hugh said with grit in his voice.

“We really appreciate that,” Nick said. “I respected the hell out of Miguel. Can’t believe he’s gone.” He glanced down the length of the building. “Let’s go see if we can help Ike.”

“We’d like to stick around and help if that’s all right,” Hugh said.

“Absolutely,” Nick said.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Kyler said, “but the authorities are coming down on this one way or the other. So I called for some PD and FD guys I
know
we can trust. They’ll be here shortly.”

Nick gave a sharp nod. “Appreciate it.”

As a group, they walked to the corner of the block.

And Marz’s breath caught at the destruction. “Jesus Christ,” he rasped, walking out into the street to get a fuller view of it. The whole center of the rectangular building had caved in, from the roof to the ground, creating a cascading mountain of rubble that spilled into the street. Small fires burned here and there, but luckily the interior’s emptiness and the cinderblock-and-brick construction kept them from spreading. And the guys had all been on the top of that when it happened? They were lucky any of them survived.

“Oh, my God,” Emilie said, hugging herself against
Marz’s arm. “What if they hadn’t made this side of the building look like the real side? That could be Hard Ink right now.”

She was right. Marz’s gaze went directly to Beckett, whose anger had brought out the hard angles in his face. He got the credit for this idea. Him and Jeremy, for going along with it.

“Any luck?” Nick called to Ike and another Raven that Marz recognized from another mission but didn’t know well.
Meat, Jeremy had called him?

Ike braced his hands on his hips. “No. Not heard anything, either. No way we can move all this by hand. I called in a favor with a guy I know who runs a construction company. He’ll be in-bound within the hour with some equipment. Dead or alive, I’m not leaving my brothers here.”

Marz totally understood that.

“We’ll help however we can, Ike,” Nick said, climbing the pile toward him. “Really fucking sorry I couldn’t get to them in time.”

Ike gave him a nod. “I know,” he said. “Wasn’t your fault. But I can sure as shit tell you that this is no longer just your fight. Dare’s already called a meeting and a vote. I suspect the Ravens will be in on this of their own accord by day’s end.” Dare Kenyon was the Ravens’ club president, and he’d been a part of last Friday’s mission against the Church Gang.

Marz was glad to hear of the Ravens’ plans to fully join forces with them, because he and his teammates needed the help. Obviously. But he hated the reason they’d come to this decision—that they’d very likely lost two of their own.

As he watched, Meat climbed the still-smoking
rubble pile toward the open second floor and held out his hand. An orange tabby cat stared at him a long minute and scurried away. Marz could hardly believe his eyes. The stray must’ve been in the building when the blast occurred—and survived. Go fucking figure.

Emilie rested her forehead against Marz’s shoulder and shuddered out a breath.

“Hey,” Marz said. “We’re okay.” Or as okay as they could be given what had come at them out of the darkness.

“I know,” she said, her voice tight as a cord. She looked to the left, away from all the death and destruction. “I know,” she said again.

And then she went stock-still.

“Derek?” She tugged on his arm.

Marz followed her gaze across the intersection. His eyes went wide when he finally realized what she was looking at. “That’s a pair of boots.”

“Could that be one of their guys? Maybe he crawled out of the way,” she said, her gaze filling with hope.

“Nick! Ike! We’ve got a body over here,” Marz said, taking off across the intersection. “Shane, might need you.”

Footsteps ran up behind him as Marz reached the far corner. The man lay on his stomach in the trash-filled gutter that edged the street.

“Oh, shit,” Marz said, his gaze landing on the back of the man’s shaved head. Or, where the back of the man’s head used to be. But a point-blank shot had taken care of that.

“Christ,” Shane bit out.

Emilie gasped and covered her mouth. “Oh, God,” she said, anguish pouring back into her eyes.

“Don’t look,” Derek said, pulling her against his chest. He was quite sure she’d seen more than enough dead people the past few days. He hated that, for her.

“How the hell does this fit in?” Nick asked, coming to stand by Shane.

“I don’t know, man. Lemme roll him.” Shane took ahold of the man’s arm and eased him onto his back.

The man’s forehead was gone, but the rest of the face—

Oh, God. Oh, no
.

Emilie turned her head to watch Shane.

Derek wrenched himself in front of her, his head shaking. “Come with me,” he said, taking her by the shoulders and bodily moving her away.

Away from the executed body of her brother.

“What? What are you doing? Derek, stop,” she finally said, pushing against his chest.

And Marz had thought the space around his heart couldn’t hurt anymore. This was going to devastate her. “Just come with me. Okay?” No way did she need to see his ruined face. She should not have to live with those images in her head, haunting her waking hours and her dreams.

She looked toward the boots, and scanned the others. Those who knew Manny Garza—or knew what he looked like—dropped their gazes to the ground. Emilie frowned. “I don’t . . .” She shook her head. “Why?” she asked, nailing him with a stare.

“Emilie—”

She pulled out of his arms and ran toward the man. Marz took off after her and caught her around the waist.

The gasp that ripped out of her throat was so loud it must’ve hurt. “No! No!” She twisted out of his arms, falling to her knees at her brother’s feet.

And then she screamed and screamed.

N
ononono, this can’t be! Manny!

The scream came from someplace inside Emilie she never even knew existed. A place where agony and fear and hopelessness lay in wait to suck you in and drag you down. She thought she’d been in pain at the loss of Jack from her life. This moment taught her she hadn’t had the first clue what pain actually was.

God, she couldn’t breathe. Emilie couldn’t focus on anything except the terrible, bloody facsimile of the handsome face she’d known her whole life. She couldn’t hear anything except the pounding rush of her pulse in her ears.

Warmth surrounded her back, and words came to her as if through a long tunnel, warbled and indistinct.

Without consciously deciding to do it, her hands reached out and settled on Manny’s boots, then upward,
to the hem of his jeans. These were the same clothes that he’d worn to her house the night before, but sometime in the last twelve hours he’d shaved away all those beautiful waves.

She forced herself to look at his face, to confront the reality that someone had put a gun to the back of his head, shot him at point-blank range, and dumped his body in a gutter.

It brought the second of the fears she’d had for him to life. That he’d get hurt. Just as he’d already hurt others.

Still, despite everything he’d done, he didn’t deserve this.
No one
deserved this.

My fault. This is my fault. I waited to get him help, and now he’s gone. Disposed of like so much trash
.

In the back of her mind, she became aware of a sound. She couldn’t place it until it was so loud it hurt her ears.
Sirens
.

The minute she reconnected to the world around her, her stomach violently heaved.

Emilie twisted to the side and planted her hands on the rough, crumbling blacktop as her body expelled the first wave of vomit. She wretched again and again, but she hadn’t eaten anything this morning, and not much last night, so it was just hard, clenching dry heaves that bowed her whole body until she thought she’d break. Gravel dug into her bare hands and her knees through her jeans.

When the heaving finally slowed, she realized that heat was still against her back.

“Oh, God, baby, I’m so sorry. I’ve got you, Em. I’ve got you. Sshh.”

Derek, embracing her and holding the hair back from her face as she sat on her hands and knees in the middle of a war zone.

When her body finally relented, Emilie’s muscles went loose and she sagged. But Derek was right there to catch her. She twisted in his arms and curled into his chest.

One of his hands held her tight across the back and the other cradled her head. “I’ve got you. I’m so sorry, but I’ve got you. I’m here for you.”

A fast nod was all she could manage.

“Let’s get you inside, Em,” Derek said against her ear.

She lifted her head and looked him in the eyes. “I know he did horrible things,” she said, her voice thick with tears. “I know he did. I know he killed. But he was my brother. And he wasn’t always like this.”

Derek caught her tears with his thumb and wiped them away. “I know.”

“I can’t leave him lying here, Derek. I’m all he has.” And, oh, God, he died thinking she’d betrayed him.

Derek’s dark eyes were so soft with compassion and affection. “He won’t be left. The authorities are here. They’re going to want to take some pictures of the scene. The coroner will take Manny’s body, and we’ll make sure he has your contact information.”

The authorities were here? Emilie pulled herself from the little bubble her mind had constructed around them and scanned the street. The Hard Ink guys formed a circle around her and Derek, and right behind them stood Becca, Sara, Jenna, and Katherine. But between all of them Emilie could just make out several large red fire engines, an ambulance, and at least one white BPD squad car.

Head swimming, Emilie looked at Derek again. “Do you think he felt it?”

Shane crouched down next to her and took her hand.
“He didn’t feel it, Emilie. He was gone before he could know it happened. In situations like these, it’s a mercy that our brains can’t process information faster.”

It was a mercy. Because she couldn’t bear the thought of Manny suffering—at least not any more than his obvious mental illness had already caused. “Thank you,” she said.

“Let’s get you up,” Derek said.

“I can do it.” Though, in truth, her body was weak and shaky from the violence of her heaves. Derek and Shane both helped her up. “What’s happening?” she asked, her gaze settling on a group of men—Nick, Beckett, Miguel’s friends, and men in various uniforms—having an animated conversation over by one of the two fire engines.

“Not sure,” Derek said, his arm around her shoulders. “But Nick will fill us in.” He turned to Shane and Easy. “I think everyone who doesn’t need to be out here should come inside. There’s too damn much we don’t know right now.”

“Roger that,” Shane said, and he and Easy gathered everyone not part of the conversation and urged them in.

“Hold up. We need to do a walk-through of the building first,” a fireman said, hand in the air.

Derek groaned and pressed a kiss to her ear. “I’m sorry.”

“For what it’s worth, that whole side is totally intact,” Jeremy said, stepping up next to the firefighter. “I own the place and have been rebuilding it. The explosion didn’t impact that arm of the L.”

The fireman nodded. “Then it shouldn’t take long to clear it. Just sit tight.” He gathered a few guys to join him while the others doused the small fires burning here and there in the rubble pile.

“Why don’t I come with you?” Jeremy asked. “The interior is controlled by keypads. You won’t know the codes.”

The man he’d spoken to before looked at him a long moment, then finally nodded. “Come on.” Emilie watched all this as if she were watching a television show—like it was distant and unreal.

“Let’s go over here.” Derek guided Emilie to the back of the open ambulance. “You got a blanket she could use? She’s in shock.”

“I can examine her,” the paramedic said, handing Derek a blue blanket.

“No,” Emilie said, the question jarring her from the fog. “I don’t want that.”

“Ssh, it’s okay. I’ve got you,” Derek said, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders and hugging her to his chest.

By slow, slow degrees, Derek’s touch and warmth made her feel more present in this situation. It was a mixed blessing.

Fifteen minutes later, they had the all clear to go inside. Emilie returned the blanket and walked toward the others with Marz by her side, his arm around her waist.

“I don’t want to leave Nick,” Becca said, the blood stains on her hands and shirt darkening as they dried.

Identifying with the desperate need in the other woman’s voice, Emilie held out her hand. “He’ll probably worry about you out here. He’s got Beckett, and Ike’s here. And the police. He’ll be fine. Come in and get cleaned up. I’m sure he’ll be in soon.” It made it easier to deal with her own pain if she focused on someone else’s.

Katherine stepped up beside Becca and gave her a
small smile. Emilie had met her briefly before they’d gone to her house on Friday night. With her dark brown waves and bright green eyes, Kat was really quite stunning, even with her face smudged by ash and arms and hands nicked up.

From the explosion?

“Emilie’s right,” Katherine said.

Becca looked back and forth between them for a moment and finally nodded. She slipped her hand into Emilie’s and held her arm out to Katherine, and the three of them made their way toward a chain-link fence on the far side of Hard Ink, Marz right behind them.

“I’m so sorry about your brother,” Becca said.

“Thank you.” The words came out mechanically, Emilie’s brain still not quite processing the reality of what she’d seen, of what had happened, of the fact she’d never hold or see or touch her brother again. And,
oh God
, she was going to have to tell her mother—and break the woman’s heart for real this time. Heaving a shaky breath, Emilie peered up toward Becca through blowing tendrils of her hair. “I know he probably did bad things to all these guys. No one here owes him anything, but I do. I can’t forget the other thirty years of his life just because he made a lot of very bad decisions during the past few.” Images flashed through her mind’s eye—of the sheer wildness in his gaze as he choked her in her kitchen, of the unmistakable determination on his face to beat her with that bat. It all made her so tired, and so very sad. “I don’t know, maybe that doesn’t make any sense.”

“It does, Emilie,” Becca said. “Everyone will understand where you’re coming from. And you tried to get him help. But you can only help someone who wants it.”

“Yeah,” she said.

“You know,” Becca said, looking at Katherine. “You were pretty freaking amazing going out there with the guys.” She turned to Emilie. “Katherine fought with the men. She was up on the roof with them when it collapsed.”

Emilie had to agree with Becca’s assessment. Would she have had that kind of courage in that situation?
You killed that cop
. True. But he hadn’t given her much of a choice.

Katherine shrugged. “I know how to shoot and I figured they needed all the bodies they could get,” she said matter-of-factly.

Becca chuckled. “I know how to shoot, too, but Nick wouldn’t hear the first word about me helping.”

“Well, I’ve never been much of a listener,” Katherine said, bumping Becca’s shoulder. “And he’s not in love with me.”

“Yeah,” Becca said, smiling. Her expression made it totally clear that Becca felt the same way about him.

A yearning opened up inside Emilie’s chest, but it quickly crashed into the big ball of grief she felt over Manny, and that swamped her with guilt for even thinking about anything else. His loss was an ache that blotted out almost everything—her kidnapping, her injuries, the fact that she’d shot and killed another person. All of that felt distant and inconsequential in comparison to the hole in her heart.

Shane jogged ahead to his truck, parked at an angle with the back end almost in the middle of the road. He reached into the driver’s side and apparently pushed a release on the gate, which swung inward.

Soon, they made their way to Nick and Jeremy’s apartment. They filled up the couches and chairs, a sort of collective shock and exhaustion hanging over them. No one talked much. Jenna and Sara mirrored
Emilie’s position, tucked in under the arms of their men.

She was glad for the sisters, that their brains weren’t filled with the images of a dead sibling the way hers was. She couldn’t stop seeing the destruction the bullet had wrecked on Manny’s skull.

Jeremy and Charlie sat huddled together on one of the couches—Jeremy with his elbows braced on his knees and his head in his hands, and Charlie with his arm around the other man’s back.

Abruptly, Charlie grabbed one of Jeremy’s hands and pulled him to his feet, and then without a word led him around the room and down a hall. As much as Jeremy had tried to duck his head, Emilie had seen that his expression was probably a short moment away from crumpling.

Katherine stared after Jeremy like she wanted to follow but also didn’t want to interfere. She traded a worried look with Becca, who sat beside her.

Poor Jeremy. From what she understood, the tattoo shop and the building were primarily his. And now at least part of it had been demolished.

Emilie’s throat clogged with tears again, and she closed her eyes and let them flow against Derek’s chest until she felt his shirt dampen. And then, miraculously, her eyelids got too heavy to lift, and she didn’t remember anything else.

S
LEEP WAS EXACTLY
what Emilie needed, so Marz was only too glad to hold her against his chest and let her find some comfort and solace in him as long as she could. Nick had come in about an hour after the rest of them and laid out the big pressing question they all faced—whether or not to remain at Hard Ink. And, if they fled, where they might go.

But they couldn’t go anywhere before the key search was completed. Disconnecting the computers at this point risked needing to start the process over from the beginning. In the craziness that had been the past two days, Marz had totally lost track of Charlie’s idea to try to acquire more powerful hardware to run the search, but it was probably just as well. Between Emilie’s abduction on Friday and the attack on Hard Ink this morning, the fates were making it pretty damn clear that they all needed to keep their heads down and not pull anybody new into this clusterfuck. So that meant they still had between twelve and eighteen hours before the search found the key to unlock the encrypted microchip they’d found in Becca’s bear.

Given the forced cooling of their heels, Nick had told everyone to think about those two questions and plan to reconvene for a debrief and discussion in the gym at five o’clock—by which time he hoped to hear from Ike how the Ravens had voted on the question of taking on the team’s mission as their own.

Emilie hadn’t budged once while Nick spoke, so Marz hadn’t wanted to wake her to go up to his room. Instead, he settled into the corner of the couch with Emilie tight against him and let himself pass the fuck out.

It didn’t happen right away.

For a long while, a horror movie played against the insides of his eyelids. The GSW to Miguel’s head. Manny’s gruesome execution. Emilie’s mourning for her brother, which had nearly ripped his heart from his own chest.

“Marz. Hey, Marz.” Something was shaking him. Or someone. His eyes felt like they’d been glued together, and they opened blearily to find Easy standing over him.

“We’re supposed to meet in the gym in fifteen, but I thought you two might want to grab some food first.” He pointed toward the kitchen. “Becca made a big pot of homemade chicken noodle and a bunch of rolls. They’re still warm.”

“Thanks, E,” he said. Had he really slept for six hours straight? Almost unheard of. “Be right over.”

Easy clapped him on the shoulder and left.

Looking down, Marz found Emilie still asleep against him, though at some point, she’d turned over and scooted down so her head lay in his lap. The fact that he hadn’t felt her move like that spoke to just how damn tired he’d been, too.