Vice (Tortured Heroes Book 1) (4 page)

“Good morning, Chief!” The nurse practically sang it as she got closer. The girl in the chair struggled to lift her head. Her thin arms curled up, and crooked beneath her chin. She tried to smile, but the left side of her face hung slack. She made a joyful sound. A squeal. But she couldn’t form words.

The nurse gave me an odd smile, then pulled her sweater tighter around her shoulders. “I’ll give you guys some time. Be back in ten.”

“Thanks, Laura,” Stan said. He grabbed the handles of the wheelchair and brought the girl to our table.

“Rachel, this is my friend, Jase.”

Rachel struggled to focus. I leaned forward and closed a hand around hers. I couldn’t shake it, her rigid muscles held her arm pinned against her chest. So I leaned down and kissed the top of her hand. Rachel laughed, then her head lolled to the side as she tried to focus on Stan.

“Glad to meet you, Rachel,” I said.

“She was a swimmer,” Stan said. “She held the state record for the 100 fly. Headed for the Olympic trials, my girl.”

My heart froze. My guts churned as bile rose in my throat. Slowly, I sank back onto one of the benches. Stan gently combed Rachel’s hair with his fingers and caressed her cheek.

“Your daughter?” I said past a dry throat.

Stan’s eyes glistened as he nodded. “Baby of the family. She had a full ride to U of M. Can you believe that? That’s the last trip we took together before this happened. Checked out the campus. Looked at her dorm. She went to a party after Nationals. She had a boyfriend who, let’s just say, didn’t have her best interests at heart. She made a bad fucking decision, Jase. And we were the lucky ones. Her boyfriend? The one that shot her up? He’s dead. OD’d that same night. Hotshot. That fucking shit. By all accounts it was the first time either of them tried it. The kids she was with got scared and ran. The doctors think if they’d called 911 maybe they could have gotten to her in time. She stopped breathing, see. Lack of oxygen to her brain. She’s still in there though. At least, sometimes. I don’t think she remembers anything about the way things were … you know … before. But she knows who she is. She knows who
I
am. And that’s all that really matters.”

My heart broke into a million pieces, then remade itself in steel. She was in there, Rachel. You could see glimpses of her. And I knew that’s what had to tear Stan Lewandowski apart the most.

He looked up at me as tears rolled down his cheeks. He said his next words through gritted teeth. “They let that bastard go. We
had
him. Iron fucking clad. The feds swore it up and down. I swear to God, Jase. If it’s the last thing I do on this earth, help me bring Cyrus Marsh down. Help me stop him from hurting kids like Rachel. Can I count on you?”

I swallowed hard and held out my hand. Stan clenched his jaw as he took it.

“Yeah, Stan. You can count on me. Let’s take that mother fucker out.”

D
evin

“You want some help with that, boss?”

Kinney stuck his head through the slats in the railing while I heaved the CO2 canister over toward the basement wall.

“Now you ask me. Where the hell were you ten minutes ago?”

Kinney gave me that dazzling smile and shot me a wink. Yeah. It didn’t work on Georgia, and it didn’t work on me either. He’d been up my ass for a day and a half trying to get on my good side for Bella. He was wasting his time. I’d given her more chances than I could afford. It’s not that I’m heartless. I knew she was going through a rough time. But I simply can’t have that element in my bar. And I’m not naïve enough to think I can keep it out all the way, but I had to be aggressive in trying to drive it out when it was right under my nose.

“Just holler up if you need anything.”

I gave him a thumbs-up. “Don’t worry. I know where you live, Kinney. Just do me a favor and don’t shut the freaking door all the way. The latch is still broken and I don’t feel like getting stuck down here again. On second thought. There’s a job for you. Go buy me a new door latch!”

“On it,” he said. “And I don’t mean to rush you, but you might wanna get up here.”

“Why? We’re not even open for two more hours. What’s the crisis now?”

“No crisis. All good. It’s just, your uncle’s waiting for you in your office.”

My blood froze and my breath went out in a whoosh. “My uncle? When the hell were you planning on telling me that? Dammit, Anthony? How long’s he been waiting?”

Kinney shrugged. “Five minutes. Ten tops.”

Great. That meant it was probably closer to fifteen or twenty. Kinney and the rest of the staff were scared shitless of Uncle Cy. Well, everyone except for Floyd. The two of them shared a mutual respect, but I wouldn’t call it admiration.

Quick as I could, I hooked the CO2 up to the line and headed up the stairs. My heart pounded in my chest and I took a steeling breath as I closed the basement door. Ever since I was a little kid, Uncle Cy had this effect on me. Whenever he came around, turmoil seemed to follow. Year after year, Cy hooked my father, his youngest brother, up with some job or another until his drinking made it impossible to hold on to it. My mother was in worse shape than he was and turned to pills. She was out of the picture by the time I was five. After my dad died, the cycle repeated itself with my sister, Mandy. Cy was always the one to bail her out and bring her back home when she took off with some loser boyfriend. That’s where she was now, though it had been nearly a year and I was worried. Very worried.

Her longest period of sobriety came after our dad’s liver finally quit. We took the trip to Niagara Falls during it. Mandy made it so I didn’t have to go into foster care. It ended up being me taking care of her more than the other way around. I swore to myself then I wouldn’t wind up like her or my father. I’d work until I had something of my own. But life has a funny way of knocking you on your ass. You didn’t say no to Cyrus Marsh. Ever. And if you took something from him, you better believe you’d have to pay it back. Dad warned me about that. But when Uncle Cy offered to put me through college it seemed like a way out. For a while, it was. After I got my management degree, Cy put me to work for him here. He promised Mandy and me it would be ours free and clear someday. After five years, he turned the bar over to me, but he was still a silent partner. Today though, it seemed he had something to say.

I retied my ponytail and smoothed my shirt. But it was hopeless. I had grease stains and grime down the front from carrying the CO2 cans and helping Floyd clean out the fryers earlier this morning. I let out a breath and opened the door to my office.

Cy sat in the chair behind my desk with his cell phone to his ear. He held up a finger and motioned for me to wait. I folded my hands in front of me. A few seconds later, he gestured for me to sit across from him. I felt like a school kid sent to the principal’s office. I’d certainly had plenty of experience with that.

Cy clicked his phone off and gave me a grim nod. He wore a black suit. I’d never seen him in anything else. I don’t think he even owned a pair of jeans. His crisp white tailored shirt had diamond-studded cufflinks and he wore a version of the same red tie every single day of his life. He had a thick mass of salt-and-pepper hair that he parted on the left and slicked back. He’d never been married, but still wore a wedding band on his right ring finger. I never knew why.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” I said.

Cy smiled, flashing me a perfect row of straight teeth. He came around the desk and leaned down to hug me. He put a wet kiss on my cheek then straightened and perched himself on the edge of my desk, one hand dangling over his right knee.

“When are you gonna wear your hair like a normal person?” he said, making a circular motion in the air around my head. “What is that? Half shaved, half long. I thought punk rock went out with disco.”

Uncle Cy laughed at his own joke and I rolled my eyes. He never liked my style and I’d learned to live with it. In a weird way it was kind of nice to have one person in the world who cared enough to be irritated by me. But I liked my hair, dammit.

“I didn’t know you were paying us a visit today.”

“That’s the best time to check on ya, sweetheart,” Cy said, tapping a finger to the end of his nose then pointing it at me. “How’re your receipts for the week?”

“Good.
The HolyRocks
always bring in a good crowd. We’re up eight percent from this time last year.”

Cy shook his head. “I’d rather it was twenty.”

“Slow and steady,” I said. “And the demos are terrific. Eighty percent regulars, twenty percent newcomers. Things are turning around, just like I told you they would.”

Cy narrowed his eyes at me, giving me that withering stare that made most people avert their eyes from him. But I knew better than to back down. He was looking for it. When he turned the bar over to me, I completely revamped it to reflect the changing demographic of the Old North End. He still didn’t see the logic in that, but my receipts didn’t lie.

“They look dirty,” he said and I knew he meant my customers. He harbored the stereotypical resentment for the Millennial Generation a lot of fifty-year-olds had, even though the Millennial sitting in front of him was making a tidy profit and helping to line his pockets. “Why the hell is that? And why the hell did you take the big screen TVs down near the bar?”

“Uncle Cy, we’ve been over this. Your sports bar idea isn’t right for this area. This area is a younger, hipper, more eclectic crowd. People come down to the Old North End for different reasons than they did even a decade ago. This is the art scene now. The whole area’s in the process of gentrification. We have to cater to that or
The Dive Bar
can’t survive. You have to trust me on that. We’re establishing a real foothold as the hip place to be down here.”

He ran his hand along his chin and let out a snort, but he didn’t argue with me. I called that progress. I had to fight hard for my vision for this place. As long as my profits kept increasing, he’d give me breathing room. For now.

“I saw some new faces out there when I walked in,” Cy said. He kept that pointed stare fixed on me. I took a breath. This was the other point of contention between us. Cy wanted final say on all new hires and firings. At times it made it impossible for me to run things the way I needed to. Soon though, if I could just hang on a few more months, I’d have enough saved to pay off his capital investment and I’d own the bar free and clear.

“And I missed some old ones,” he continued. “Kinney got very quiet when I asked him where Bella was. Is there something I should know?”

I sighed. I knew this was going to cause me problems with Uncle Cy. Hopefully though, when I made him understand what happened, he’d come around. “Bella’s gone. She’s unreliable. I can’t have her in the bar, Uncle Cy. You need to let me manage the way I see fit.”

He pounded his fist against the desk, making me jump. “You don’t call me? Not even a text? That’s not our agreement, Devin.”

“Our agreement is that I manage this bar. I can’t manage it if I have to run every personnel decision by you. Bella showed up wasted out of her mind. She was shooting up in the alley five feet away from the kitchen. I said I
can’t
have her here.”

He changed tactics, gave me a warm smile, but his eyes stayed hard. “Well, then I guess that’s another story. But she’s family, Devin. I hope you didn’t burn that bridge down.”

I gritted my teeth. “I’m family, Uncle Cy. I know you and Bella’s father go way back, but she has to be held accountable. I know she’s gone through some rough stuff with her ex and all, but we can’t let that slide. You of all people should know that. And I can’t have the rest of the people who work here thinking that kind of behavior is okay. It’s a cancer to a place like this.”

Cy nodded. “Still, you should have called me. Bella’s father is a business associate of mine. And yes, I’ve known him for over thirty years. I’ll back your decision, but next time you need to keep me in the loop. I’ve got a very uncomfortable conversation in my future and I don’t appreciate being blindsided.”

Nodding, I gave him a weak smile. “I understand. And I really didn’t mean to do anything behind your back. But the situation was volatile and I had to make a decision. It was the right one, but I get it. I’ll call you.”

Cy’s eyes softened and he went around behind the desk and took a seat again. The picture of Mandy and me sat perched on the edge of it, tilted right toward him, and I saw his smile drop. A pit formed in my stomach. I knew he wouldn’t want me to bring the subject up again, but I had to. He’d made me a promise.

“You know I’m going to ask. Have you gotten anywhere in trying to find her?”

Cy folded his hands together and rested them on the table. His face grew weary and he blinked slowly. “Don’t you think if your sister wanted to be found, she’d have reached out to you herself?”

We’d had this same conversation at least a dozen times. “Uncle Cy, she did. I played her last voicemail for you. You saw her emails. She was in Chicago putting her life back together. That last message … she was trying to make arrangements for me to go out and visit her. I mean, yeah. Mandy’s got a track record of taking off from time to time, but nothing like this. It’s been almost a year. And she’s never just cut me off abruptly like that. She’s never just
stopped
calling.”

Cy nodded and ran his hand through his thick head of hair. I knew he hated talking about Mandy. She was a disappointment to him. Just like my father. The cycle repeated. And believe me, she disappointed me just as much and more. But I wasn’t willing to give up on her. Maybe I never would. I just wanted to know if she was okay.

“Was your private investigator able to use anything I gave you?”

He shook his head. “She was probably using one of those prepaid phones. And, Devin, this guy’s a real pro. Former homicide detective. Then he did a dozen years on skip tracing for a credit agency. He
knows
what he’s looking for and at. He agrees that Mandy’s probably fine, she’s just not ready to get in touch yet. I need you to be patient just a little longer.”

I gripped my knees hard and tried to keep my face even. He’d said this to me so many times. It usually ended with one of us losing our temper. I couldn’t stand that he kept trying to discount my own instincts. Maybe he was right. Maybe Mandy was just shacked up with the latest in her string of douche guys and on the road. But my gut told me something different and I needed to know the truth. I had no intention of letting Uncle Cy off the hook in helping me get to it. A promise was a promise.

“Why don’t you let me talk to your private investigator friend? I’m sure he’s just going to tell me the same things you’re telling me, but it’s better if we don’t have to use you as a middle man, don’t you think? You won’t get irritated with me and I won’t get irritated with you.”

“Next time,” Cy said. He knocked his fist against the table, signaling the end to the conversation, at least from his perspective. “Just don’t forget that Mandy’s wellbeing is important to me too. You girls are the only family I’ve got. You’re like a daughter to me, Devin. I’m not likely going to forget that.”

I swallowed hard and nodded. It made me uncomfortable when he said things like that. I appreciated it, of course, but it only made me miss my real father that much more. He gave me a knowing look as if to say, “You know that’s not my fault either.” It wasn’t. My parents made their own choices, just like Mandy did. And yet, here Cy and I were, the last Marshes standing. All of a sudden, I felt like a shit for giving him a hard time. Yeah. Here we were, just the two of us, trying to do what each of us thought was right.

“You’re doing a hell of a job,” Cy said. “I may not agree with the direction of the club, but I know how to do math, Devin. I’m not one hundred percent convinced on this place, but you keep going the way you’re going and I’ll get there.”

“Thanks,” I beamed. His good opinion of my business sense really did matter to me. Maybe more than I wanted to admit. I was about to say just that when a soft knock on the door drew my attention behind me.

The door cracked open and Jase Randall stuck his head in. I looked from him to Cy and back again. Shit. He was another new face I hadn’t told Uncle Cy about. Jase stepped in the office all smolder and swagger. I think maybe he sensed the tension between us or that Cy was forming an impression of him that might matter. Jase held a clipboard in one hand and a pen behind his ear.

“Sorry to barge in, but you’ve got a distributor out there who needs your signature. He didn’t seem inclined to wait.”

Jase crossed the room and gave a terse nod to Uncle Cy. Cy sat back in his chair and scowled. Oh shit. I knew I was about to get another lecture about keeping him in the loop on firings
and
hirings.

“Thanks, Jase,” I said rising to meet him. His fingers brushed against mine as I took the clipboard and pen from him. A little spark of heat went through me and he gave me a quick, barely perceptible wink. I bit my lip and signed the form.