Chapter Nine
Gwen
“James?”
The man’s head snapped up from his desk, his eyes tired but filled with rage. “What?”
I held up a brown bag from my place against the doorway. “I brought you some food.”
He scoffed. “Really, Gwen?”
“Yes, really,” I snapped. “You have to fucking eat.”
The sun had just set and I needed to make sure the man didn’t die of starvation. Last night, my fiancée came home with Jer and the agent standing before me. James brutally murdered Charles Tipponi, and they dumped the body on the pitcher’s mound at Busch Stadium.
It was bold; borderline stupid but bold.
The message would be received.
There was no doubt about that.
I tossed the bag on the surface, his file scattering as a result. He shot me a death glare. “I’m not afraid of you, Garner, so, you can cut that shit right now.”
“I don’t have time for this,” he quipped, picking up a stack of papers off this desk. I knew what they were: the contents of that fucking file—the damning evidence that Collin was Ray Romano’s bastard son. The night of Haley’s kidnapping, I forced Dean to tell me everything.
“You need to eat,” I said softly, trying a gentle approach.
He had barely eaten or slept since Haley’s kidnapping. Both of my best friends were missing, and it was all my fault. James might have thought he was going crazy, but he didn’t know the meaning of the word.
He shook his head.
Obviously, gentle wasn’t the way to go, and that suited me just fine. I had enough attitude and anger to go around. I rolled my eyes at him, pulling my gun from the waistband of my jeans, pointing the weapon directly at his face.
He growled, unfazed. “In a federal building?”
I tilted my head, scowling at him. “Really? Says the man who unloaded a fucking clip into a mafia boss’s face,” I hissed.
Slowly, he let the papers fall away as he raised both hands in the air.
“What do you want?”
I gestured to the food with my free hand. “Eat, or I shoot you in the knee, and you can stay in a hospital while I go rescue Haley. Then, when I bring my girl back, Haley can have the pleasure of teaching you how to walk again, and you can tell her you got shot for being an asshole.”
He growled at the sound of her name. “Don’t fucking—”
“Eat." I loaded the chamber. He glared at me, challenging me.
“You won’t win this battle, Agent. Eat. Now.”
I kept my gun pointed at him, watching his every move, every bite. I made him a turkey on rye, toasted with jalapenos. His favorite, according to Haley.
Everyone was on edge.
Haley was the last straw. Kay should have been the last straw, but nothing we'd been doing was good enough. I knew it was all my fault, and I was willing to accept that, but I couldn’t sit around and mope.
My friends needed me, and I needed them.
If they weren’t back home to me soon, I feared I would lose myself again, and I couldn’t do that to my son.
He needed his momma—he needed his whole fucking family.
“Where’s Aiden?” he asked, his mouth full. My heart smiled.
Three weeks ago, James Garner would have finished chewing before speaking. This James Garner no longer gave a fuck and I was right there with him.
“He is with the Jacksons.”
Mrs. Jackson was his schoolteacher, but she has known Aiden his whole life. Her husband was a barber in Soulard, just down the street from Sullie’s Bar. They agreed to watch Aiden until we got our family back. We could trust them.
“You should just take him somewhere safe and stay there.”
Rage boiled in my blood. I stepped closer to him, pointing the gun in his face.
“Fuck you,” I spat. He glared at me as he stood slowly from his seat, his meal gone.
“Watch yourself, Davenport,” he warned.
“I will not sit on the sidelines like a good little housewife while men fight my battles,” I snapped.
“These aren’t your battles!” He boomed, throwing his arms out.
“All of this is my fucking fault, Garner, and I will be damned if I let someone else clean up the mess I made!”
His nostrils flared as his jaw jumped, covered with dark hair. His hair was a mess. His clothes were clean but wrinkled and untucked, the top two buttons of his shirt undone. He looked awful. “You look like shit,” I noted, looking him up and down.
The office door flew open, and Jer stepped through, his brown eyes clouded with thought. His steps faltered when he saw my gun pointed at James. He blinked slowly, taking in the scene before him. “G, what the fuck?”
“Exactly,” James hissed.
“Shut up,” I snapped.
“You know, if I really wanted to, I could have that gun out of your hands and unloaded before you could even blink,” he warned.
I looked back to him, taking a step closer. “I fucking dare you,” I seethed.
“Enough!” Jer barked, his deep voice echoing throughout space. Both of us froze, turning toward our friend. He shut the door behind him before walking up to me. He folded his arms over his chest, his t-shirt straining over his muscles.
His eyes got soft, just for a moment, and I saw the old Jer. God, I missed him—I missed the life I once had. That all of us once had. My chest ached.
“Put the gun down, G. Save your bullets for someone who deserves them.”
Heaving a heavy sigh, I put the gun up, but not before I shot James one more glare.
He swiped up the empty brown bag and tossed it in the trash.
The room was silent for a moment, the air thick and heavy with regret.
All three of us had done things that led to where we are now. We'd all made mistakes.
We all had sins to pay for, but that would come after we killed the Devil.
“Thank you…for the meal. I needed it,” the FBI agent finally said softly, his dark eyes meeting mine. He cared for me and I cared for him. I considered him a friend—hell, even family, whether he wanted it or not.
“You’re welcome,” I returned, my voice thick with emotion. I twisted my neck to look away from them, taking a moment to get my head in check. I blew out a puff of air, shaking off the sadness and getting right to it.
“Okay. So, Boston. When do we leave?”
“Whoa, whoa. You aren’t coming, Gwen,” Jer said as he put his hands on my shoulders.
“Yes, I am,” I snapped, hating the fact that every male around me thought that I was more fragile than glass all of a sudden.
“No.”
“Jer, I'm going.”
“No, I can’t lose you too,” he argued, his voice stern.
He blamed himself for Haley’s kidnapping. He was the one who convinced her she needed to go, but Haley would have gone on her own eventually. She didn’t need to be convinced.
“Need I remind you that I went to New York on my own. I found Tony Romano on my own. I got under his skin on my own. You are bat shit crazy if you think I'm just going to sit here like a good little woman and let—”
“This has nothing to do with gender,” Jer said, scowling at me.
“Says the human with a penis,” I snapped.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake! We leave after midnight. The four of us,” James confirmed, his voice dripping with annoyance.
“That’s what I thought,” I hissed.
Dean, Jer, James, and I would head to Boston.
Collin was seen there earlier today, and Sullie got word from one of his contacts in New York that things in the mafia world are tense.
A man named Roman Barone was trying to overthrow Ray Romano.
Ronan oversaw the Boston Red Sox but was in New York City on business last night.
Collin was seen walking out of his club—Club Sweat—earlier this afternoon.
“Did you get anything out of Grant?” I asked, watching James straighten the sleeves of his shirt, something he hadn’t done in months. Gabe was Haley’s coworker.
“No.” Short and to the point.
I knew he wouldn’t. Gabe was a good egg. I had met him once or twice before. He stopped by Haley’s apartment once before I discovered Dean was still alive. He was nice, and Haley made it seem like everyone at her company was nice. They were and she thoroughly enjoyed her job.
She was happy there.
“What about Chris Robinson?”
That was her CEO, and apparently close friend to Ray Romano. The evil bastard came back from the dead at an event, the launch of the Tyler Project, in New York. He sent two men to follow Haley into the bathroom and kill her. My stomach twisted at the thought.
“He is still in the holding cell,” James said simply.
“Has he said anything?” I pressed, folding my arms over my chest as I flipped my curls over my shoulder.
“Couldn’t tell you. He has been unconscious for the last six hours.” My eyebrows shot up, and I turned to Jer, who was trying to conceal a smirk.
“Fucking bastard,” he whispered.
“Flight leaves at midnight. Jer and I have something to take care of before then,” he said as he turned to leave, Jer following.
Oh hell no.
“Cool; where are we going?” I followed in step with them out into the hall.
“G,” Jer sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Agents from various departments passed us as James locked up his office.
“I’m coming. We are either riding together, or I am following you. You pick but make it snappy. We are on a time crunch,” I said, looking at my invisible watch.
My friend looked down at me, his face masked with concern. “You don’t need to see this,” he whispered.
“If it concerns Romano or the girls, then I do.”
Jer looked at James.
The agent rolled his eyes. “I don’t give a shit anymore, but Connors will be pissed.”
Jer rubbed the back of his neck. “That shit is on you, G.”
“Speaking of my fiancé, where is he?”
“Already there.”
“Where?”
Jer and James shared a look, and I stepped closer to both men. “I will chop your dicks off and feed them to you. Where. The. Fuck. Is. Dean?”
“With Kevin Matthews,” James answered plainly before turning away.