Through Fire (Portland, ME #3) (8 page)

“Grab something at the pub,” I suggest.

“I can do that. See you in a bit.” He hangs up before I have a chance to answer.

Maybe I should get his opinion. Mark’s got a good head on his shoulders, he may have some thoughts on how I should handle this.

-

I
spot Ruby behind the bar the moment I walk in. There’s a decent crowd for this time of year, and it looks like Matt and Ruby are busy. No sign of Viv though, but Ike is sitting at the end of the bar in his usual spot.

“Where’s Viv?” I ask, and sit my ass down on the stool beside him.

“Group therapy. She was gonna come back here after.”

I grunt in response, but my eyes have been on Ruby from the moment I walked in. Watching her in action is something else. Smiling and chatting up the customers is a far cry from the almost shy and reserved Ruby I usually get. Except the scene the other night. That one was so far out on left field, I still don’t know what to make of it. The woman is a walking contradiction. Even now, I know she saw me come in, but she still avoids looking at me.

“Ruby? Can I get a draft?” Her eyes flick to me at the sound of her name, but she only nods in response.

“What’d you do?” Ike asks, looking between Ruby and me. “Did you piss her off?”

I groan as I drop my head in my hands. “Seems to be a going trend,” I mumble, but Ike hears and the moment Ruby places my beer in front of me he pounces.

“Talk.”

I glance to see if we’re out of earshot before I start talking. I tell him how I made the mistake of asking Brenda out, ended up bringing her here, and the fiasco that followed Friday night. I also describe what my week at the office has been like so far.

“Sounds like your Brenda doesn’t like rejection much,” Ike says in a dry tone.

“She’s not
my
fucking Brenda,” I bite off, just as Ruby walks by, a slight hitch in her step when she obviously hears me. Just fucking wonderful.

“Easy, my friend.” Ike’s soothing tone does little to settle my aggravation. But Ruby’s warm brown eyes, now turned to me with obvious concern, do. This time she doesn’t look away and I’m caught in her gaze, feeling my heart rate slow down. “Really?” I hear Ike mumble beside me. When I reluctantly drag my eyes away, I find the question plastered on his face. “You went there? Christ you’ve been busy.”

A quick look reveals Ruby now has her back turned, giving me the opportunity to lean into Ike. “Pushing all the wrong buttons tonight,
friend,”
I spit out under my voice. “I’m having a hard time keeping my seat, so better fucking check what you say about her.”

With a firm hand in my chest, Ike pushes me out of his space. “Calm your tits. All I’m saying is she is not one to mess around with. There’s a reason she ended up with Pam. Whatever brought her there is not out of her system yet.”

“Funny,” I point out with a smirk. “Would seem that not that long ago I was telling you something similar about Viv.” That got a smile out of Ike.

“Yeah. And she’s wearing my wedding ring now.” His smug look is soon replaced with a more serious face. “Seriously, man. No offense, but this one is not even your type.”

I regard him for a minute before letting my eyes drift to Ruby again. Short, round, dark little Ruby, so different from my usual fare of tall, slim, and blonde, and who confuses the hell out of me. “I know,” I mutter.

“Talking about offense, did you catch the game on Sunday? Fuck, that Brady has some serious butter fingers. Last three games, I thought I was gonna have a coronary before he finally managed to turn things around. Viv had the phone ready with her finger poised to dial 911.”

“Almost did too. Several times.” Viv’s smoky voice sounds behind us, and Ike turns around to catch his wife in his arms. “Hey, honey,” she says, when Ike finally lets her come up for air. “You boys playing nice?”

“Always,” Ike lies with a sideward glance at me.

“Yup,” I confirm, when Viv’s eyes turn to me squinting.

“I’ll take your word for it,” she says, making it clear she’s not convinced. Her attention zooms in on the line forming at the other end of the bar, where Ruby is trying to keep up. “Better give these guys a hand.”

With a last kiss for Ike, one I could’ve gladly done without, she’s gone, and we continue our commiserating on the Patriots QB’s lackluster performance thus far this season.

Three beers later, a heavy hand falls on my shoulder.

“Mark, how’ve you been?” Ike directs over my shoulder. I’d totally forgotten he was supposed to meet me here.

About two hours ago.

I turn around on my stool and take in my brother’s bedraggled appearance. “Took you long enough,” I poke at him a little. A tired grin tells me he takes it as the friendly ribbing I intended.

“Work is just...” He shakes his head as he lets his words drift off.

“Day got even tougher?”

“Yeah. Sorry,” he says, pulling up a stool on my other side. “Remember that girl I told you about on Sunday?”

I nod with a wince. I remember it all too well.

“Call came in, just as I was about to leave. She’d been tucked away in a safe house, and they found her dead this afternoon. Sixteen fucking years old. She’d pocketed a paring knife from the kitchen, locked herself in the bathroom, filled the tub, and sat there slicing her forearms from wrist to elbow. By the time the agents broke down the door, it was already too late.”  His head slumps down on his arms. “I lost it when I heard. May have done some damage to the captain’s office.” He lifts up and looks at me with turmoil in his eyes. “I was suspended, pending psychiatric assessment.”

“Jesus, Mark. For getting upset?”

“Not the first time,” he softly admits, dropping his head down. “Job’s been getting to me. Today was just the last straw.” He chuckles, “Guess tossing his computer through the window was the last straw for the captain.”

Nothing I can say, so I reach out and give his neck a squeeze. I don’t think I’ve ever appreciated the pressures and the frustration of being in law enforcement. Having to look at the underbelly of humanity every day, dealing with victims of violent crimes, with the animals committing them, that’s got to do something to you.

I spot Ruby and wave her over. She walks up, a look of concern on her face as she eyes the back of my brother’s head once again on the bar. I’m struck by the compassionate warmth in her brown eyes. “Think we need something stronger than beer here. Scotch? Bring the bottle, honey. And three glasses.”

As Ruby turns away, Mark lifts up his head and vigorously rubs his hands over his face.

“Sounds tough,” Ike directs at him.

“I’ve had better days,” he responds with a wry smile. “Hers must’ve been much worse, though.” With affirming grunts from Ike and myself, Mark gets up and pushes away from the bar. “Right back. Gotta hit the can.”

I watch my brother walk through the door to the restrooms, the weight of the world a bit heavier today, judging by the more pronounced slump in his shoulders.

“He doesn’t look good,” Ike points out.

“I know,” I agree. “I’ve always worried the job might eventually get to him, but it was his dream to be a cop since he was five-years-old.” I chuckle at the memory. “I’d wanted to be a lumberjack for Halloween, my dream at the time, but Mark was adamant; he wanted to have a police uniform, complete with badge and billy club. Whined for days when Mom couldn’t find one in Portland, until she finally drove into Boston to a specialty store to get him what he wanted.”

“Lumberjack? You?” Ike chuckles.

“You know, I liked building things with my hands,” I admit. “My father had that wood shop in the garage and used to build birdhouses and bookcases. Remember, he’d let us help cut the wood with a handsaw sometimes? When I got older, we started building side tables, spice racks, all kinds of smaller wood furniture. I got pretty good at it.”

“I knew that, but never realized how much you love it.” Ike looks at me surprised.

“Yeah, well, Mark dreamed of catching bad guys ,and I dreamed of building furniture for the children I was going to have. Then I grew up and got a real job.” I shrug, ignoring the long forgotten pang of regret.

I’m glad to see Ruby approach with three glasses and a bottle. A welcome distraction in more ways than one. “This okay?” she asks, holding up a full bottle of Gunnar’s
prime
collection. Both Ike and I chuckle, knowing he’d flip his lid if he knew.

“Perfect,” Ike answers for me. “Tim here will replace it before Gunnar even knows it’s gone. Ouch!” He flinches when I elbow him in the ribs. Hard. “That hurt,” he adds unnecessarily.

“Just leave it here, Ruby, and is it too late to get something from the kitchen for my brother? He hasn’t eaten yet.”

Her eyes light up with interest when I mention my brother and with a quickly mumbled, “Of course,” and a hesitant smile, she disappears down the hallway.

I’m still focused on the spot I saw her disappear, when Mark’s large frame blocks my view. “What were you staring at?” He wants to know when he takes his seat beside me. I dismiss his question with a shrug of my shoulders, as I crack the bottle and pour us all two fingers, but Ike is more than happy to oblige.

“Your brother has developed an interesting fascination with Ruby,” he volunteers with a smile, eliciting a groan from me.

“Who’s Ruby?” Mark turns to me with one eyebrow raised.

Again Ike feels the need to answer. “The luscious brunette, about five foot nothing, who started a few months ago. Took a while, but I think he’s finally recognizing a rare treasure when he sees it.”

“I have to see this woman,” my brother says, twisting around on his stool. I drop my chin down on my chest, exasperated, yet knowing when I’m outnumbered.

“Here she is. Bringing you a plate,” Ike helpfully points out.

“You?” Mark’s voice sounds surprised.

A sharp intake of breath and the sound jof something breaking has me sharply snap up my head. Mark is half out of his seat, and Ruby has her hands clasped to her mouth, her face a sickly white. The plate with Mark’s dinner in pieces around her feet.

“What the...” Before I have a chance to finish, Ruby whips around and tears out of the bar.

R
uby

“Whoa. Where you running to twice in one day?”

The voice belongs to Dino, against whose chest I bumped for the second time. This time, I can’t afford to let him hold me back. Struggling in his grip, I don’t register the footsteps behind me until two strong arms band around my waist and a voice sounds in my ear, “I’ve got you.”

“You sure, man?” Dino asks, not sounding too sure himself, as I let myself go limp in the firm hold around my body.

“Positive,” he answers, taking all of my weight when Dino slowly lets go of my arms.

With my eyes closed and my head down, I let him shuffle me down the hall. I don’t open them until I hear a door click shut behind me and his voice whisper my name. “Ruby?”

I’m in Gunnar’s office, and Tim is walking me over to the love seat where he pushes me down. Sliding down on his knees in front of me, he places his big hands firmly on my legs, keeping me tethered in place.

“How do you know my brother?”

I flinch at his question, but there is nothing but concern in his voice. No threat, no accusation, just concern and probably confusion. I’m confused too. “I don’t,” I whisper the truth.

“But you recognized him. Hell, he recognized you.”

“I know. I’ve seen him before. Just this weekend. He talked to me in the parking lot, when I was walking home. I thought...” I stop myself from telling Tim I ran from him, thinking perhaps they found me. “I was afraid,” I say instead.

“Of Mark?” His disbelief cuts me and instead of answering, I just shrug.

“But he’s a cop. He works for the Portland PD.”

“He does?”

I realize Tim probably expects that to alleviate my fear, but it does the opposite. My experience with the police has not been good, so that bit of news doesn’t instill a feeling of safety.

Before either of us have a chance to say anything, the door opens and the topic of conversation walks in, closing the door behind him. 

“I thought you looked familiar,” he says, with his arms crossed in front of him and his back against the door, looking relaxed for all intents and purposes. But the intense scrutiny in his eyes contradicts that.

“Mark...Give us a minute?” Tim’s hands haven’t left my legs. In fact, he’s only tightened his grip to the point of pain.

“No,” I interrupt, not wanting to cause trouble between Tim and the brother he so obviously loves. “It’s okay,” I assure Tim, the feeling of empty resignation hollow in my chest. Then I turn to the man by the door. “I saw you outside my apartment building.”

“You did. I’d just responded to a domestic disturbance call and was on my way back to the precinct when I spotted you. Thought I recognized you from your picture, but wasn’t sure until your reaction just now.”

I try to stay calm, but panic starts closing off my airway. “Picture?” I manage, my voice sounding as ragged as my thoughts.

“Single potential witness to a gang-related execution, close to seven months ago, in Boston. Closed video surveillance shows what looks to be a woman hiding behind a stack of crates in a warehouse on Shipyard Point. On the footage, you can count the number of shots fired out of range of the camera, based on the woman’s response to each one. All eight of them. One for each arm and leg, one to his jewels, one in the gut, another one in the chest and the final one, the one that finally killed him, right between the eyes. Then the woman runs, and when she turns around for one last look, her face is in perfect view. Snap!”

With every word from his mouth, I’m transported back to the warehouse. I am hearing each one of the shots he describes and the screams that resulted. Except the last one. That one was followed by an eerie silence, in which I held my breath, trying desperately not to make a sound. When I’d heard footsteps going in the opposite direction, I left my shoes and ran.

When Mark barks out the last word, my body jerks as if someone punched me. I hear a rushing in my ears that all but drowns out Tim’s loud protests. “What the fuck, man! What the hell is wrong with you?” he yells at his brother, while at the same time sitting down beside me and wrapping his arms around me.