Tap Dance (25 page)

"I'm sorry, Mom," Ram said holding her close at the door.

She shook her head and cupped his cheek before letting herself out of his house.

When Marianne never returned any of his calls or his texts, he knew he had lost her.  But his heart couldn't let go.  He knew when she moved back in from her aunt's place and he knew how often she just sat motionless in her car.

He would end each of his nights by sitting in his truck until he saw her lights go out. 

Wondering what she would do if he went up to her door.

Wishing he had let her go home when she wanted to, so she wouldn't have witnessed the debacle his father had instigated.

Wanting nothing more than to just look at her, talk with her,
touch
her just one more time.

But his girl was a lot braver than he was, recognizing his truck and stomping towards it after he had eased himself out the door, his heart beating a mile a minute. 

Yelling her questions as she stormed towards him, her arms flailing with her words.

Until her last question. 

Her last question she hadn't yelled, she didn't use her arms to emphasize.  She just stood there in the middle of the road, the rain weighing down her curls, dripping off her chin. 

Her heart in her eyes, filling her eyes, as she asked that last question.

And the look of wonder she had after he had answered, "Yes,
Pyari
.  With all my heart." knowing it was true.

He had beeped his locks and grabbed her arm to take her back inside, to get out of the rain.

It wasn't until they were inside that she started crying, clinging to him.  He wanted so badly to kiss her but she was crying so hard, clinging so tightly that he couldn't.  So he did the next best thing, which was to hold her.

Eventually, they made it to her room but not to make love.  They held each other and spoke in whispers against each other's mouth.  She had fallen asleep in that position, with her arms around him, her lips resting softly on his.

And it filled his cold, empty heart almost to bursting.

Chapter Twenty Eight

Ram and I were officially back together.  We were both still holding some hurt, but we were working through it one day at a time.

He still wasn't sleeping well at all and it showed in his exhausted eyes and the set of his shoulders.  I didn't know what was in his head that was keeping him from sleeping, but he needed to get it out and deal with it.

It was these thoughts circling around my head as I was sorting my clothes for the laundry.  How to get Ram back on track, how to be as comfortable together as we used to be, when my buzzer for the front door rang. 

"Yes?"

"Marianne?" a deep, honey-smooth voice asked.

"Who is this?"

"Niko.  May I come in?"

Oh, hello.  No.

First of all I wasn't 'dressed to receive' as my Grandma Gibson would say.  I was wearing an old pair of jeans that sagged around my hipbones with a v-neck t-shirt and no bra.  Hair a curly, curly mess, pulled up and off my face.

"I'm sorry, Niko.  I'm kind of busy."

"I know this is unexpected, but I wanted to see you."

He wasn't kidding when he said he was persistent. 

Fuck.

"I'll be right out."  I grabbed my keys and shoved them into my back pocket.

I opened the heavy outside door and pulled it shut behind me. 

Niko was standing, legs braced and arms crossed, looking so good it should be illegal.  His faded and frayed jeans hugged his thighs, dipping slightly around his firm stomach.  He had paired the jeans with an old 'Alice in Chains' t-shirt pulled tight around his biceps.  I dragged my eyes up to his face.  His black messy hair, electric blue eyes and killer smile filled my vision.

He looked like sin, standing on my porch at nine in the morning.

Niko took a couple of steps forward, snagged my hand, and again brought it to his lips, his eyes straight on mine.

Day-yum.

You'd think, having him pull the sexy kiss your hand thingie a few times, you'd get used to it, right?

Nope.

"So, 'Man in a Box', huh?" I asked just to have something to say.

"Sorry?"

"Your t-shirt.  Alice in Chains?"

He smiled and ran his thumb over my knuckles, which did funny things to my insides.

"I only bought the t-shirt because I liked the print," he said with a challenging gleam in his eye.  "You know of their music?"

"Well, yeah," I replied in my 'no, duh' tone.

We were quiet and I watched his eyes roam from my messy hair, down my body to my bare feet.

"You are very beautiful, Dusho Moja," he said softly.

I wanted to turn around to see who he was talking to, but his eyes burned into mine.

"Ah, thanks," I mumbled. 

Shit.

"And you are beautifully frustrating as well.  I will keep trying, though.  Will you have dinner with me tonight?"

"Uhm, Niko?  You know I'm a lot older than you, right?"

"Isn't there an American saying that age is just a number?"

Shit. 

He took another step forward and  raised my hand in the middle of his chest.

"I've told you I'm seeing someone," I stated firmly.

"But 'seeing someone' is not married, correct?"

 How could someone look sexy when they're smirking?

Damn. 

"I'm sorry.  I'm busy tonight."

His smile dropped just a little when he replied, "And I am sorry that you are busy tonight."

He used his hand to cover mine still planted on his chest.

"I like you playing, how do you say it?  Hard to get?  Is that right?" The sexy dimple was starting to make an appearance.

"I'm not playing hard to get, Niko.  I don't want to go out with you.  I am seeing someone else."

He was quiet, his head down stroking my arm between us.

"If you were not 'seeing someone', you would have dinner with me?" He asked softly.

No, boyo. 

If I wasn't seeing someone, someone pretty damn terrific, then you and I would be rolling around naked, making funny noises.

"Thanks for the invitation, though, Niko," I said equally soft. "I've got to get back to it.  Thank you for coming by."

"Thank you, Marianne.  I hope to see you soon."

I had opened up the outer door and was just crossing the threshold when it occurred to me.

"Niko!  Where'd you get my address?"

"Pardon?"

"How did you know where I live?"

He shot me that slow, sexy smile.  And waved.

Those jeans would probably be illegal in most States and 47 foreign countries.

*.*.*.*.*

I was still puttering around my apartment, when I realized I was really bothered by Niko's impromptu visit.  Sure, I was flattered by his attention, but I'd not given him any indication I would ever go out with him.

Persistence is one thing.

But there's a line when it becomes stalking.  Having Niko show up at my house and not tell me how he knew where I lived was raising a big red flag for me.

I called Ram and left a voicemail saying I needed to talk with him.

Actually, I needed to talk with him about a few things.

Niko being one.

Steve and the CDs being two.

*.*.*.*.*

"The background check on Steve Quinlan shows that he went to U of C/Grantham from 2001 to 2005, was married to Marianne Gibson from 2006 to 2008 and moved to Oklahoma City where he worked from 2008 until 2010.  It was in 2010 that he moved to New Mexico and worked exclusively for the Milosevic family," Agent Grant said to the room at large.

They were in the bullpen at the police station and Agent Grant had asked to meet with the Grantham P.D. detectives and their Chief.

Everyone had their notepads out and were scribbling the information almost as fast as it was said.

"He was married to Marianne?" Paul asked, looking around at the others in the room.

Ram had carefully schooled his face after those words had been said.  He hadn't known she'd been married before.  And, it appeared, no one else did either.

"Yes, Detective, from 2006 to 2008."

"Are the Milosevics he worked with any relation to the ones here?" Tim asked.

"Yes, our research shows there were five brothers who immigrated from Serbia.  Between the five of them, they represent a crime family that controls the entire West Coast as well as Arizona, Utah, Colorado and New Mexico."

Agent Grant looked around the bullpen as he popped his cuffs. 

Ram thought the man was ridiculously over-dressed for an investigation in this part of the country.  Always a suit, white shirt with french cuffs and a tie.  And he was fond of popping those cuffs, yanking them down to lay perfectly straight against his wrists.

"Goran Milosevic and his sons Niko and Stojan control Colorado and Utah from here in Grantham.  Drago Milosevic, along with his sons, control New Mexico and Arizona."

"We are aware of Goran and Niko, but I've haven't heard of a Stojan," Ted Pierson said his eyebrows lifted as he glanced at the other detectives.   All of them shook their heads.

"We believe that Stojan's base is in Denver." Agent Freeman answered.

Agent Grant continued, "Our sources said Steve Quinlan's job was in jeopardy since he was privy to all the financial dealing of the New Mexico/Arizona business and had asked one too many questions to one too many people.  He abruptly fell off the radar in late March.  At first, we assumed that he was taken out by someone in the Milosevic camp.  But his personal financial records show he was on the move and has popped up a couple of times in different western states.  One of the trails we found showed he has been in and out of Grantham for the last couple of weeks."

"You think he's been in contact with Marianne?" Paul asked.

Ram's thoughts had gone that exact same direction and his stomach clenched. 

"I think it’s a distinct possibility and I will be interviewing her later today or tomorrow," Agent Grant replied.  "Are there any other questions?  You have Steve Quinlan's picture and you need to be on the lookout for him.  It is very important that we bring Mr. Quinlan in since we're sure that he has information that could bring down Drago Milosevic. Thank you for your time."

Agent Grant followed Ram into his office.

"I'd like to be there when you interview Marianne Gibson," Ram said settling into his chair.

Agent Grant just looked at him.

Ram waited.

"It has also come to our attention that you have been seen with Ms. Gibson on several occasions," the Agent finally said.  "I think it's best if you hang back for now."

Ram thought that through and decided he would've said the same thing to, say, Paul if he was in the Agent's shoes.  He knew it was logical and he knew it was the right thing to do. 

But, he didn't like it.

"Besides, I hear that she is pretty and can be quite the firecracker.  I'm looking forward to meeting her."

Ram especially didn't like that, and he liked the shark smile on the Agent's face even less.

*.*.*.*.*

Ram listened to Marianne's voicemail wondering if he had time to see her before the Agents went to her house.   He glanced at the clock.  All Agent Grant had said was, 'today or tomorrow'  for her interview.

He used his personal cellphone to make the call.

"Hey, Ram," she said softly into her phone and it was like a balm for his frayed nerves.

"Are you available for lunch,
Pyari
?"

"Sure, honey.  When and where?"

"Your place in half an hour?"

"Sounds good.  Are you picking something up or should I order in?"

"Call Red Dragon and I'll pick it up on my way," he said, trying to think of anything on his schedule that he'd need to move in order to spend time with her.

He wasn't even two steps through her door when she was in his arms.  He lowered his head as he walked her backward so he could put the bags of food on the counter and greet her properly.

As their mouths fused, tongues wetly searching and finding each other, he held her the way she liked.  His hand fisted in her hair and his arm tight around her waist, which produced her sexy mewls and full body wiggles.

He was instantly hard but remembered that his time was limited.  He didn't think it would be a good idea for the Agents to show up when they were naked and enjoying each other.

Ram lifted his head.

"Damn,
Pyari
," he muttered against her mouth.