Surviving Brooklyn (Brooklyn Series Book 1) (4 page)

“Mary,” I stated, my lips on my cup. I knew he caught what I said, but he was going to make me repeat it anyway.

“What?” he asked, showing his patience was wearing thin.

“Your girlfriend, Mary.” I stared into my cup; the liquid was quickly dissipating.

“Why would you avoid me because of her?” Mark asked, appearing confused. I couldn’t blame him, it was a valid question. I hadn’t even shared my distaste for her with Kate.

“Just because,” I answered as I poured another drink. My belly was warm and my head tingled from the effects of the alcohol, but I wasn’t drunk yet.

“Explain it to me,” Mark stated in a loud manner. He sounded angry, but he looked intrigued.

“I just don’t like being around her when she is with you,” I answered quickly, “Why did my dad call you?” I wanted to know before he dug any deeper into my heart.

“He asked me to see if you would be willing to walk away from this case. He thought with our history I would be able to talk you out of it.” Mark sat silently as I mulled over what he had just said.

“Next time he calls, you can tell him the victims and I are the same. That if I walk away, there is no guarantee they will ever get justice. As long as I am on this case, I won’t stop until those women get the justice they deserve so they can rest in peace.”

“Did she threaten you?” Mark asked. “Did she do something to offend you? Did you get into an argument?”

He had switched the topic back to Mary. While I was grateful he was not interrogating me, I would not put it past him to stick me in a dark room with a light in my face and take on his detective attitude.

“No, I just don’t like her,” I said as I stood and walked over to the television stand. I placed my cup down and put my hands on my hips. Keeping my back to Mark, I drew in a deep breath. I knew he had stood up and was closing the space between us. I could feel he was behind me before he touched me.

Mark placed his hand on my hips and turned me to face him. I kept my head down and stared at his black belt. The silver in the clasp had me mesmerized, and I imagined if I continued to stare he would not pry any further.

“Look at me,” Mark whispered, his fingers laced with mine on the backs of my hips. He dropped one of my hands when I didn’t look up at him, then placed his index finger under my chin and lifted my face toward him. I knew he wanted answers, and he knew I didn’t want to confess.

“It’s just me. You can talk to me,” Mark whispered as I held back the tears that filled my eyes.

“No, I can’t,” I murmured as the alcohol seemed to disappear from my body.

“Brooklyn, it’s just us here. Just you and I. Obviously you have a strong reason. Your eyes are glistening with tears. You can’t hide your feelings from me. You wear them out in the open so everyone can see when you are hurt or scared. Let me fix this for you. Just tell me what has you so upset.”

I wrestled with the words inside my head for a few minutes. Mark didn’t move. Kate once told me the best way to say something that scared you was to blurt it out. Like ripping off a band-aid, the longer you draw it out, the harder it gets.

I looked into Mark’s cobalt eyes, which seemed to have a silver lining. The cliché popped into my head about how everyone should always find the silver lining of the cloud, and I was staring into mine. I was scared we wouldn’t be able to work together or that things would become awkward. I worried about ruining the friendship we had built over twenty years.

The last time we were together was just a mere two days ago, and I had managed to offend him without even trying. What would his reaction be now? Would he be offended, appalled, or would he utter the words ‘were better off friends?’

“Mark, we have known each other nearly twenty years.” I pulled back from him to gain some space. It didn’t last because I was now against the television stand with nowhere to go, his hardened body only inches from mine.

“Yes, Brooklyn, we have been friends a long time. That doesn’t explain it.” Mark pushed my hair off my shoulder.

“I am trying to explain,” I replied hastily. “In those twenty years, we have grown to be very good friends. You’re my best friend. Mark, I—”

“Brookie, just say it. Tell me what it is that has you so flustered. You used to be able to tell me everything,” Mark whispered, giving my hips a little squeeze as he closed the gap between us. His warmth enveloped me, and I stared at the silver lining around his cobalt eyes wishing he would look at me the way I always looked at him.

I swallowed loudly and my heart rate increased as Mark stared into me. I could feel him. I could feel the strength and courage that came from being near him.
I can do this. I just have to open my mouth and let the words flow out.

“Mark, I have strong feelings for you.”

I did it, I told him. I wanted to do a cartwheel and give myself a high five. I had always buckled under the pressure unless it was in a courtroom, but here and now I had excelled. It was like I was breathing fresh air for the first time in a long time after the words left my lips. Then I realized the hard part had only just begun, that Mark still had to reply. I held my breath as I watched his brows draw together, and his eyes became focused as the words left his mouth.

“What kind of feelings?”

I couldn’t run from his question. He was like gravity holding me in place where I belonged. He was holding me against him and demanding my soul to open up and pour my heart out.

“Mark, I have fallen in love with you,” I whispered as his eyes burned into me.

“How long?” Mark replied.

“Since the day we met,” I whispered softly.

The silence in my apartment was deafening as I waited for his response. Every second that ticked on the clock seemed like hours, and the minutes felt like years. I took a deep breath and began to shelter my heart when Mark placed his finger under my chin to hold my head up.

“Mark, I don’t expect anything from you. I was never even going to tell you. I just—”

He placed his finger over my lips to quiet me. He moved his hand to the side of my cheek, and brushed away the tear that flowed. Slipping his other hand behind my neck, he continued to caress my cheek.

My stomach quivered, and my pulse quickened. My body shivered as he neared me. I truthfully questioned how far this would really go until his lips brushed mine.

His kiss was soft and warm. His tongue brushed against my lips, and I parted for him to gain entry into my mouth. I returned his caresses as his tongue invaded me, and I tasted coffee and whipped cream as I felt his fear, his happiness, and even his need in his kiss. More importantly, I felt his love for me. I threaded my fingers in his silky brown hair.

Mark lifted me and set me on the television stand I had been standing against. My margarita glass toppled and shattered on the floor. I would have cared if I didn’t have this man between my legs.

I reached for his belt as his velvet kiss stole my breath once more. Every time I thought he was ending the kiss, he came at me again. I was ready to go much further when the phone rang.

First his phone, and then mine. This was not a good sign. Mark pulled his mouth away, but rested his forehead to mine as we caught our breaths. We let the phones go to voicemail. We would deal with it in a minute.

“You should always tell me everything. Stay here. We will discuss this later.” Mark pulled his phone from the clip on his belt.

I watched as he put on his shield. When he was on duty, he was Detective Stone and wore an invisible shield around his heart. When he was off duty, he was fun-loving Mark. I adored both sides of him. It felt weird to even say it in my head. I had denied what I felt for so long that admitting it was like coming up to breathe while swimming in deep water. He hadn’t said he loved me. He hadn’t really said anything. We would have to make sure our friendship would survive, but it would have to wait as the phones rang again.

Mark stood in my doorway as I looked at my phone. Another victim had been found. It was a nauseating realization, but it was time to go to work because the killer had struck again. As I watched Mark walk out the door, I wondered if I would remain inside or go to the crime scene, and let the world see that I had taken over this case.

Was I ready for this? 

Chapter 4

I had a cab drop me off on the corner of 59
th
and Park. I was standing across the street in front of one of the entrances to Central Park while I watched the scene unfold.

It was like watching a ballet. Everyone was in their place, doing their job, moving in coordination with the leader. I watched, mesmerized, as an officer in a black jacket took photos of a girl who lay lifeless on the ground. The coroner was standing over her, making notes. Mark looked right through me when he saw me. The area was covered in press and cops. The Plaza was having to reroute guests, as the body was outside their door by the Pulitzer Fountain.

Mark turned his back to me and began shouting orders as I walked closer to the scene. I had never been to a crime scene before, but I had an idea of what transpired. Most of the time, the Assistant District Attorneys didn’t go to crime scenes, but this was a different kind of case and they wanted to make sure everything was done to the letter of the law. Once we caught the killer, we were never going to let him walk on a technicality.

I came up on the blue police barriers and flashed my A.D.A. badge to get through. I was thankful I had taken the time to change into a pair of skinny jeans and my white button-down. Adding to my look was a pair of white heels. My appearance was just as  it should be, and I was hopeful that tomorrow’s headlines would not read
Mafia princess visits crime scene
or something even worse.

“Go home, Brook.” Mark glared at me as he spoke softly. I nearly missed how irritated he looked because of the tone of his voice.

“I need to see what I am dealing with.” I wasn’t talking to him as a friend or someone he cared for. I was speaking to him as a prosecutor.

“Two hours ago, you were drinking margaritas. I cannot have you here inebriated,” Mark replied.

“Give me a breathalyzer. If I fail, you can book me with public intoxication. If not, step aside and let me do my job.” 

I tried looking around Mark, but his football player build made it hard to look past him without being obvious. I held my footing and stared back at him. He was used to being in charge at crime scenes, but here and now it was my job to make sure he did his job correctly.

“Do not leave my side, Brook. You step away from me, and I will drag you home and spank your ass for not listening. Once the scene is cleared, I will escort you home.” He took my elbow in his hand, and slowly walked me toward the coroner.

They had taken the time to cover the body since my arrival, but they made no attempt to move her. I watched as the crime scene personnel looked over every inch of the surrounding area.

I later saw two FBI agents in the distance taking pictures with their cell phones from behind the barriers. I recognized them immediately. I tugged on Mark and began to walk toward them. Mark altered his course and came along with me.

“What are you two doing here?” I asked angrily.

They had always snooped around my family. One of these men was maybe five-foot-ten, and appeared to be in his late forties, with gray hair and glasses. His name was Special Agent Donnelley. The other was roughly six feet tall, with gray and white hair. Agent Carter.

“We came to see for ourselves,” Carter said. “Eventually, the NYPD will call on us. We are ready when the time comes for the NYPD  to admit defeat.” He snickered.

“You need to leave,” Mark growled. He was so sexy when he was serious. I had to break the thought from my mind and find a way to end this without a testosterone war.

I waved over one of the crime scene officers. The young blond was named Chris. He was new to the force and fresh out of college. He looked up to Mark as if he was some kind of a hero. I knew he would do anything for Mark, and that allowed me to take advantage of the situation.

“Detective Stone needs you to bag and tag those agents’ phones. The pictures they took are now evidence until we deem otherwise.”

Chris immediately turned to the agents and began explaining the need to take their phones as Mark and I turned away. I winked at both agents. This new job may come in handy with men like them.

Mark led me back to the body. The coroner began speaking in a language I could not understand. I stopped listening as I stared down and saw the victim’s blood pooling outside the plastic sheet. The coroner pulled the plastic back to show me the rose she held, her hands bound by rope. Her hair and make-up perfectly styled to be a 1950s model. She was naked and covered in thousands of blue forget-me-nots. Someone had taken the time to dead-head them and use them as a cover for the body.

I knelt down and stared at the face that matched mine. She had the same blue eyes and black hair. Same skin tone, and even the same tiny butterfly tattoo on her ankle. The coroner ran his hand over the victim to close her eyes as nausea rose up in my stomach. A subtle wind blew and a flicker of silver caught my eye as I looked at the flowers. She wore a necklace. Mark and the coroner saw it the same time I did. The coroner moved the flowers lightly, adding light to the necklace on her chest. It was a silver braided rope in the shape of a noose.

I reached my hand into the top unbuttoned portion of my shirt and pulled out my silver necklace. Mark and the coroner stared as I held it out. It matched hers exactly. It was like looking in a mirror. She was me.

My necklace had been a graduation present from my sperm donor, Nikolas. It was his way of saying being a lawyer was like hanging yourself. While I did not see the same meaning, I wore it every day anyway. I started walking backward as Mark followed. My thoughts clouded as the nausea overwhelmed me. I found myself turning around to face a large group of paparazzi.

“Have you identified the body? Is it the same Cut-Me-Not killer?”

I could not answer any of their questions. I ran across the street and into the park. I stopped and threw up in the trash can just outside the zoo.

The coroner was behind me.

“You all right, dear?” he asked as my dry heaves kicked in.

“She was me,” I blurted out as my heart raced. My palms grew sweaty and my head began to ache. I thought I might throw up again, but the coroner had me sit on the park bench and place my head between my knees.

“I understand what you see, but she is not you. You are still here, and she is not. You both have similar items which means you have similar taste. That is all.” He gently rubbed my back.

“What’s your name?” I should have known before I arrived, but my curiosity got to me before I could think to ask for names.

“James Garie.”

I lifted my head from my knees, and reached up to shake his hand. “I am the new nauseously mortified Assistant District Attorney Brooklyn Montgomery,” I said as we shook hands. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Well, Ms. Montgomery, how do you feel now?” James asked.

“I think I want to go home.” I rose to my feet. “Can you tell Mark I will wait here for him to drive me?”

James nodded, and went to get Mark. He wasn’t gone a moment when a man walked up.

“You all right, Miss?” he asked, as I hugged my belly from the nausea. The man had an accent I could not place.

“Just a little nauseous. I will be fine, thank you.” I took a second glance at this man, as most people in New York City are not nice enough to stop a stranger on the street and see if they’re okay.

He had blond hair and dark green eyes. He was very tall, but it was hard to tell how tall from my position on the bench. He had a crooked nose that looked like it had recently healed from a break. I looked down at his hands; he was cracking his knuckles when I saw a dripping dagger tattooed just below his thumb. His black hoodie was out of season for the weather, and he looked like he had mud all over his jeans.

“Miss, I just want to say even though you are feeling ill, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Your face is truly one of a kind.”

Before the chills of danger shivered down my body, he had already walked away. It wasn’t long before I saw Mark coming for me with two extra officers and a worried look on his face. I watched as he scanned the area as if the killer was there somewhere.

“Brook, you all right?” Mark asked, reaching down and lifting me off the bench.

“I’m mortified.” I wrapped my arms around him, and buried my face in the crook of his neck.

“I am taking you home,” Mark declared, as he carried me out of the park and into the black Escalade the police force had just given him.

He piled me into the passenger seat, and buckled me in. I would have spoken out that I was not an invalid; but the way I felt, I wanted the comfort and warmth of someone taking care of me.

Upon arriving at my apartment, I discarded my heels. I unbuttoned my long sleeve white shirt and dropped it, revealing the black tank top beneath. Taking my pants off, I walked into the bedroom in my underwear and tank top. I climbed under my comforter and buried my face in the pillow.

“Brook,” Mark called out, but I refused to look up at him. “Come on, Brook.”

I felt his weight press onto the bed and took a deep breath. Humiliation had invaded my veins after I got sick outside the crime scene. I glanced up to see a smile on his face. Men wouldn’t understand humility if it bit them in the ass.

“Go away, Mark,” I murmured with my head on my pillow. Instead, he stretched out on the bed so we were eye to eye with one another. He took my hand in his and uttered the words no woman ever wants to hear in bed.

“Do you need me to get you a barf bag?” His laughter was intoxicating, and soon I was giggling along with him. Until I realized we were both laughing at
me
.

“It’s not funny. Someone died,” I shouted. Mark’s laughter halted and his face fell. I don’t even know why I blurted that out.

“Brooklyn, I know someone died. It makes the fifth victim since this began. I was finding humor in your humility, not the situation. I would never under any circumstance find it anything other than horrid when someone has their life brutally ripped away from them.”

Mark sat up and seemed to argue with himself for a moment. He stood and left my bedroom. Twice, I have said something to piss him off. Perhaps I needed lessons on how to be a good friend.

I stood and grabbed my gray fleece blanket off my computer chair and wrapped it around me. I looked around, but I didn’t see Mark. I would have to find a way to apologize to him later. I went to the front door and locked it. When I turned around, the aroma of coffee hit me. I wandered into the kitchen where I found Mark looking in the bottom cabinets.

“I thought you left,” I said as he glanced up at me.

“Do you want me to leave?” Mark countered as he rose, holding a skillet.

“Isn’t Mary going to get upset that you’re out so late?” I hated bringing her up, but I didn’t want to cause trouble for Mark.

“I think her husband might have a problem if I called her and asked.” Mark turned his back and put the skillet on the stove.

“Her husband? Wait…
what?
” A blush invaded my cheeks. I must have turned a crimson color because it was at that moment I realized I was nearly naked in front of him.

“Brookie, Mary and I broke up over a year ago. You would have known if you used your phone and called me every once and a while.” Mark stated with laughter, as he began cutting cherry tomatoes. “You may want to sit down. You look as red as these tomatoes.”

I ran into my room and pulled on a pair of drawstring sweatpants. It was midnight, and I should be in bed getting some sleep for my first day at the office in the morning, but with Mark single and cooking in my kitchen I would rather stay up with him and take a sick day.

I finished dressing and walked back into the kitchen. He was making me homemade pasta primavera. It was a family recipe my mom had taught Mark before she died. It was my feel-good food. Mom made it for me whenever I was feeling down or just needed a boost.

“What’s the occasion?” I asked as I came upon Mark, who had made me a cup of coffee. I took a seat on one of the island stools and sipped my coffee.

“We still need to talk about earlier tonight, but it can wait until dinner is ready. I want to know about the crime scene.” Mark sighed before continuing. “You know I got sick at the first violent crime scene I ever went to. You never get used to it, but you learn how to adapt and overcome it.”