Hidden Scars (24 page)

       As soon as the words left her mouth, she wished she could take them back. That was the one question you
never
answered truthfully. She’d broken the unspoken rule, and now there was no way she was going to get this job. Not that she was sure she wanted it anymore. But it would have been nice to have the option.

      The recruiter blinked several times, then dropped her gaze to her desk top. She cleared her throat. “That must have been a difficult decision to make.”

       “It was.”
No, no, absolutely not, the asshat deserved it and then some. Did I mention I punched the wall repeatedly, imagining it was his face, the last time he screwed up?
Sara bit down on her tongue. Letting the snark loose would damage the interview further. Bad idea. Terrible idea.

       The recruiter nodded once. “Do you have any questions for me?”

       All she wanted was for the interview to be over. She trotted out her standard questions, why would she want to work here, what sort of working environment could they offer, blah blah blah. The interview wrapped up shortly after an awkward silence, and she left as quickly as she could without looking like she was running away.

       Rain hit her bare legs like tiny ice shards, her feet going numb within a block as she headed for the bus stop. It was really too bad. The position had seemed like a good fit, but damn, the woman was impossible. If she was any kind of indicator of the other employees, maybe Sara was better off.

       Her phone buzzed in the depths of her bag, and she fished it out. An alert flashed across the screen. Something had tripped the alarm again. Hands trembling, she managed to locate the number for the security company and called in.

       The motion sensors in addition to the door alarm had gone off; someone had tried to break in. “Police are already responding.” The calm, efficient female voice on the other end of the line took the edge off her fear, giving her the space to think through her next steps. She needed to get home, make sure everything was secure, talk to the police. She didn’t want to do it alone.

       Her fingers shook so bad she almost couldn’t pull up Taylor’s number. He answered on the third ring. “Sara? You on your way in?”

       The words got stuck in her throat, and she tried to swallow against the jagged lump forming. “I need you,” she blurted. “Something tripped the alarm, and I have to go home and I don’t want to do it alone.” She edged further into the corner of the doorway she’d sought shelter in, peering out at the rain. Someone had tried to break into her house. Someone who wasn’t Sam.

       “I’ll come get you. Text me the address.”

* * *

       “Have you noticed any unusual activity lately? Anyone hanging around that isn’t familiar?”

       Taylor shifted closer to Sara on the couch, her hand flexing in his. When he’d picked her up, she’d been pale, constant shudders wracking her body. The walkthrough and a cup of tea had brought some of the color back to her cheeks, fire and determination sparking in her eyes. She shot him a quick look, and the guilt flashing across her face surprised him. “A couple of days ago there was a car parked in front of my house that I’d never seen before. The driver’s side window was rolled down. I think the driver was watching me.”

       A couple of days ago. And she hadn’t told him. Was it right before Krista’s visit?

       As if she’d read his mind, she turned to him. “I didn’t want to worry you,” she said softly. “You’ve got enough to handle already.”

       The officer jotted something in his notebook. “Did you notify the police?”

       She shook her head, and Taylor’s simmering anger kicked up a notch. “He pulled away before I could call, and afterward it didn’t seem worth it. He didn’t actually do anything other than sit in his car and stare at me for a few minutes.”

       She should have told
him
.

       “You said he wasn’t on the property?” The officer — Taylor hadn’t bothered to note his name — flipped back through the pages of his notepad.

       “No, just at the curb.”

       “You reported a separate incident a few weeks ago.”

       She huddled closer, and Taylor let go of her hand to wrap an arm around her shoulders. “The motion sensors were tripped and I heard footsteps on my driveway. At the time I was concerned my ex-boyfriend had violated parole and was stalking me, but the police checked in with him and he was in Sacramento, like he was supposed to be.”

       It had to be one of Tony’s guys. It was the only explanation. Trying to figure out a way to exploit her if beating up Pop didn’t do the job and turn him. He’d done this. He’d put Sara in danger, and though his confidence in the authorities’ ability to do anything about it was low, there was still a slim possibility they could help. At the very least they could look out for her while he was in Boston. “It’s possible whoever was outside Sara’s house the other day may be connected to Tony Flaherty.”

       The officer’s face didn’t show a hint of recognition. “Who is Tony Flaherty?”

       “Organized crime. He’s from Boston, lives in my old neighborhood. I used to hang around his gang when I was a teenager, and he’s been threatening my family lately.”

       The other man straightened and lowered his notepad slowly. “What would he want from you?”

       Fuck. He’d opened this door. Hadn’t wanted to, but he wanted Sara safe more. Now he’d have to go through it. “I believe he’s trying to recruit me. He may be looking to expand his dealings and thinks I’d be of some use.”

       He had the officer’s full attention now. Over the next half hour, he gave him a rundown on his previous dealings with the Pretty Boys and ended by reiterating his suspicions. Sara pressed herself closer, her hand closing around his free one. The quiet show of support, so quick on the heels of her own fear, humbled him.

       “You’re incredible,” he said after the police had left with a promise to be in touch soon.

       She blew out a shaky breath. “I frequently am. How am I incredible this time?” She reached up and cradled his head in her hands. “Scratch that. Why did you tell him about Tony?”

       He turned his face into one of her hands, pressed a kiss to her palm. “It was time.” Grasping her wrists, he tugged her hands down and clasped them between his own. “Tony sent a couple of guys to beat up my dad the other night.”

       A soft cry of alarm sounded in the back of her throat. “Is he okay?”

       “He will be. I’m flying home this afternoon for a couple of days. I’ve got a meeting with the FBI agent in charge of the investigation. They’ve managed to piece together some evidence, but they want testimony. You still have my spare key, right?” She nodded. “Good. I’d like you to stay at my place while I’m gone.”

       She pulled her hands free. “No.”

       “Sara—“

       “No. If Tony’s managed to figure out who I am to you and where I live, he’s smart enough to know where you live, too. I’m safer here. I’ve got the alarm system and the police know about the men now. And I’m not going to let someone chase me out of my own home.”

       “I’ve yet to see anyone hanging around my place, though.” She glared at him and got to her feet, pacing away from the couch. “He doesn’t know I’m coming. I had Paul buy the ticket for me. Unless Tony’s monitoring the passenger lists, I’ll be able to surprise him.”

       “How is staying at your place safer for me?”

       “I haven’t seen anyone outside my apartment,” he repeated. “The police didn’t find anyone here, right?”

       “No. The sensor gives me a twenty second window to shut it off. If I don’t, it automatically sends an alert to the police. The officer said he was here within a minute of the alert.” She smiled now, a fierce, sharp thing. “I got lucky. He was already in the area. Normal response time is longer.”

       Enough time someone could have planted a listening device or small camera in the living room, possibly the kitchen, but not enough time to do it and get completely out of sight. Leaning forward, he ran his hands on the underside of the coffee table, then got up and repeated the process on the other flat surfaces in the room, scanning the corners and checking the edges of her TV for good measure. “Looks like your decorating procrastination worked for you.”

       Her brows drew together. “What do you mean?”

       “Whoever broke in could have planted a device if he’d been quick, but he’d have been limited to this room. There’s nothing here.” He drew her into his arms. “Let me take you back to my apartment. You use my car while I’m gone, stay in my apartment, it might work as a diversion until I get back. You see anything that looks remotely suspicious, any sort of ‘off’ feeling, you check into a hotel. Please don’t come back here.”

       He kissed away her frown, let himself sink into the kiss, steep himself in her response. “Please,” he murmured against her lips. “Do this for me.”

       She cupped the back of his neck, keeping him close. “Okay.”

       Taylor checked his text messages again as he sat down across from Agent Nance. Sara hadn’t responded to his latest text yet. She was probably dealing with a client, or in a meeting or a training session. She’d called just two hours ago, confirming that yes, she’d gotten to work okay, no, she hadn’t seen any suspicious activity since he’d left, and yes, she’d go to a hotel at the first sign of trouble. “Now go pay attention to your family,” she’d said. “And you’d better come home to me in one piece.”

       Christ, he missed her. From the first night he’d slept over, they’d rarely spent a night apart, alternating between his apartment and her house, though they’d been staying at her house more and more often. The Monday after Krista’s visit she’d given him a key and the current code to the alarm.

       It was fast. He knew it. He didn’t give two fucks how fast they were going as long as Sara was right there with him.

       “Mr. Smith?”

       He pulled his thoughts away from Sara and the unanswered text. Agent Nance studied him with an expectant look on his face, pen at the ready. “Yes, sorry.” Setting the phone on the table would only taunt him, so he slid it into his coat pocket.

       Nance lifted a brow and picked up his pen. “You’ve associated with Tony Flaherty since you were a teenager, correct?”

       “Around twelve or thirteen. I didn’t start collecting for him until high school. I believe I was fifteen.”

       Nance’s pen scratched over the paper, the sound barely audible over the muted noise of the street below. “What did you collect?”

       “Information. I rarely reported directly to Tony. Most of my dealings were with Patrick Reilly.”

       The agent nodded and continued his notes, occasionally asking a question as Taylor detailed his history with the Pretty Boys. “There have been rumors of a new line of heroin coming out of Mexico,” Nance said when Taylor got to Tony’s current offer. “We’ve been on the look-out, but so far no product has hit the streets.”

       He put the pen down and sat back in his chair. “The case is finally starting to come together. Years delayed, but we’re getting there. There’s still a substantial chance what we have won’t hold up, though. Lot of people nervous about giving depositions against Flaherty. Would you consider becoming a confidential informant?”

       Taylor stared at him. “You want me to go back in.”

       “Nailing Tony Flaherty on a trafficking charge would shut down his organization for good and put him away a lot longer.” There as a knock at the door, and a short, ruddy-faced man stuck his head in. Nance waved him into the room. “Griffin Zawacki, Taylor Smith. Taylor, Griffin. Griffin flew in from our Portland field office. He’ll be your handler.”

       Griffin held out a hand, and Taylor shook it, still scrambling to comprehend what was happening. “I haven’t agreed to this,” he said finally.

       Nance leaned forward, fingertips steepled. “No, you haven’t. But after what you’ve told me, I can imagine you’d want to do whatever was necessary to take down Tony Flaherty.”

       “I’ve also got a girlfriend in Portland he’s been terrorizing. I’m not going to do something that puts her at risk.” Joining Tony’s organization in any capacity was not an option. He would not do that to Sara. He wouldn’t do that to
himself
. He’d put that life behind him when he left for Carolina. He needed an alternative. Something he could give them now that would make their case stronger.

       “I can meet with Tony while I’m here. I can wear a wire.” Even as he said the words, he knew it wouldn’t work. He’d be searched the moment he set foot in Tony’s house. If he was caught wearing a wire, he’d be dead.

       Except…

       Tony was desperate. Wasn’t that what Jamie’d said? Desperate? Was he desperate enough to agree to meet Taylor on his terms?

       Nance was shaking his head. “We can try sending you in with a wire, but chances are Flaherty will search you.”

       “Or I could get Tony to meet me somewhere. You could bug the place ahead of time.” Jamie. Jamie would help. “My brother Jamie works for the utility company. Show him how to plant the bugs. He goes into my parent’s house, plants them, Tony comes over, you get him on tape telling me he wants to set up a mule run between Mexico and Boston.” Taylor’s phone buzzed in his pocket, and his heart stuttered. She was all right. Of course she was all right. The phone kept buzzing. A phone call, then, not a text. Not Sara. Disappointment was a lead weight in his stomach, and he forced his attention back to the two agents in front of him.

       Griffin was studying him with interest. “It could work. It’s not as substantial as a trafficking charge, but it’s a quicker solution.”

       Taylor pressed forward. “Working my way into the new operation will take months, at least. Tony’s never done anything quick. He covers his ass, and this won’t be any different.” Already it was different; the Pretty Boys had worked hard to keep the hard shit out of Charlestown, practically the only good they’d done for the neighborhood. That right there was a barometer of Tony’s desperation, if he was willing to let heroin onto his streets.