Chapter Fourteen

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Anthony

My phone started to ring at six in the morning as I blearily made a pot of coffee.

Saylor was already on her way to Fury after spending the night wrapped up in my arms.

I hadn't expected such a one-eighty when she came out of the bathroom. I had been preparing myself for another day of awkwardness and tension.

Maybe her mother had said something encouraging to her. Sam seemed to be on my side with the whole relationship thing.

Because that was what this was. Or, rather, what I hoped it was. I knew that it might take a little more convincing on Saylor's part. She was probably going to try to insist for a while that it was just sex, just a fun way to spend time while we were on a never-ending stakeout.

She could lie to herself all she wanted. But I knew she'd felt it when I'd felt it that last time we'd had sex. Something deeper than just sex, more so even than simple intimacy.

Something felt really fucking right about it.

And judging by the tears I brushed off her lashes, she felt it. Even if she didn't know what to call it. Even if she was afraid to try to figure out what it was.

I had to remind myself that she wasn't constantly surrounded by happily-ever-afters like I was. Wasn't constantly being told you would just "know it" when you finally found the right person.

She just needed time.

And some more orgasms to break down her defenses.

Luckily, I was happy to give her both those things.

Which was why it was fucking disappointment I felt when I saw Elio's name on my phone when I reached for it.

"Hey, Elio. What's up?" I asked.

"What are you up to today?"

"Nothing really. Why? What's up?"

"I haven't been able to get in touch with Matej Dvorák," Elio admitted. "That's why I haven't been in touch yet."

"Hey, it's no sweat. I'm not in a rush."

"No?" he asked, and I swear I could hear his grin through the fucking phone. "Would that have anything to do with that all kinds of pretty you had with you in the deli?"

"Yeah," I admitted.

"Nice pull. Anyway, this is less of an apology call and more of a request."

"Okay. What do you need?"

"Backup."

"Backup for what?" I asked, pouring myself a cup of coffee before emptying the last of the brownie batter creamer into it.

"I need to check on the Czechs. Not necessarily just for you. We need to be able to get in contact with them when we need to. I got a bad feeling, and my brothers are handling some other shit. I need another set of hands. Or two, if Saylor wants to come."

"Oh, she's gonna want to come," I said, shaking my head at the idea of telling her to sit pretty in the stakeout studio while I did all the ‘fun shit.'

"Alright. When are you guys free?"

"Saylor is just walking her dog. Ferry leaves, what, every half an hour or so this time of day? Can probably be there in an hour and a half."

"Sounds good. I'll meet you at the ferry and we can just go from there."

"I'll let you know when we get on," I told him, then ended the call to dial Saylor.

"Fury, it's a balloon, not a mass murderer," Saylor told the dog as furious barks could be heard in the background. "What's up?"

"We need to head back to Staten Island," I told her.

"Is something wrong?"

"Elio can't get in touch with the Czechs. He's got a funny feeling. He wants to go check shit out, but his brothers are busy, so he wants some backup."

"You have to wait for me," she demanded.

"I did say we , didn't I?" I asked. "Wouldn't dare try to leave your ass behind," I told her. "Finish up with Fury, then come back here. Make sure you got some weapons on you," I said, going over toward my duffle to pull out the two guns I'd brought with me to the studio.

"I always have them," she said. "Do you need any extras?"

"I thought you got cleaned out."

"My inventory, not my private supply."

"I got two. Should be enough. Might be smart to bring some bullets, though. Just in case this goes sideways."

"Got it," she said, ending the call.

By the time I showered, dressed, strapped on some holsters and guns, and cleaned up the coffee, Saylor was waiting for me down the block.

I grabbed the keys and my wallet, then rushed out the back alley to meet her.

From there, we grabbed a cab, then made it to the ferry just before it was heading across again.

"Is it unusual that the Morellis can't get in touch with a crew like these guys?" Saylor asked as we stood on the deck. The wind was whipping her hair around wildly, making her strawberry scent mash over me, overwhelming my senses, making me wish the ferry could turn around and take us back to shore. Where I would rush us back to the studio and get lost in her for a few hours.

"It sounded like it was weird. I figure maybe they have a headquarters that Elio had shown up at a few times with no answer. Which, yeah, would be odd. Especially if they are a bigger crew. Someone really should always be at the headquarters."

"That makes sense," she said, nodding.

"So, Fury has a fear of balloons, huh?" I asked, moving in behind her, caging her in with my hands on either side of her on the railing. Instead of stiffening, she melted back into me. And I couldn't keep myself from leaning in to press a kiss to the side of her head.

"You'd think one of them had chased her down the street with a machete for how much she was freaking out," Saylor said, shaking her head. "She's not a huge fan of skateboards either. I'm kind of starting to feel guilty about leaving her in the warehouse alone all the time. I mean, I know she's better off where she is now than where I took her from. But she's always so excited when I come by."

"No one is making you keep her there," I said. "If you want her to be a dog of leisure instead of a working dog, then so be it. You can always ramp up security at the warehouse without her there. Does your building allow dogs?"

"Yeah," she said. "The neighbor above me has like a dozen little fluffy dogs. Take up half the elevator when she takes them down for a walk."

"So, bring her home with you. Or bring her to the studio with us."

"That might not be the best idea," she said. "With how noisy she can be. One of us would be constantly trying to walk her around to tire her out."

"True," I agreed. "Well, I doubt we will be in the studio for longer than a week or two. And she's happy where she is in the meantime. After that, you can outfit your place with all the shit she will need. That way, you can bring her with you to work and still have all her stuff there too."

"That's a good plan," she decided. "You're very relaxed," she observed a few minutes later.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because we could be walking into a trap in another fifteen minutes."

"Eh. When you've been stabbed and shot a few times, you kind of don't get too worked up about shit like this," I admitted. "You nervous?"

"I'm… cautiously anxious," she admitted. "I know my job is inherently dangerous, but I'm not usually walking into potential traps."

"What about when you make deals?"

"It's with established crews that I can research beforehand. I wouldn't be meeting up with some random assholes. I know what happens when you do something like that."

The hurt was back in her voice.

"Is that what happened to your brother?" I asked.

"Yes," she admitted, surprising me. Maybe she was closer to agreeing with being in a relationship than I was giving her credit for. Because Saylor was way too fucking private to give that information to someone she saw as a fuck-buddy.

"Did you two work together?" I asked, sensing she needed prompting to keep talking about such a sensitive subject.

"No. I worked for my mom. I kind of always figured I would take over the gym someday. Or maybe open another one. But my brother decided to get into the arms trade."

"Why?"

"He had a friend who was really into guns. Got my brother into them when he was young. Then he slowly started to build a stockpile. Then he started to get himself into debt, and he had to start selling off his supply. He realized it was profitable, so he started to make a career out of it. But… one day, he went to do a drop. And he never called to tell me he was back.

"My mom and I were up all night worrying. And then the cops were at the door. They found his body in an alley, riddled with bullets."

"Christ. I'm sorry, babe," I said, hands moving off of the railing to wrap around her. "Why did you take over after that?"

"It started as just wanting to get rid of the supply he had left. None of them were legal," she admitted. "And he had been storing them in a warehouse with my name on it without me realizing. But then I realized he was in just… in astronomical debt. And he'd somehow managed to get a second mortgage on the gym."

"How? Isn't it in your mom's name?"

"It was fifty percent in her name. And then my brother and I each had twenty-five percent. My mom wanted to make sure if anything happened to her, we could honor our father's legacy without things getting all complicated in court or whatever. So she sold us each a quarter when we were adults.

"The thing was, we didn't know about the second mortgage. And he was months and months behind on it. The bank was days away from foreclosing on it. I needed money. Fast."

"And there is fast money in the arms trade."

"Exactly," she agreed. "It just kind of… grew from there. I saw how much money I could make quickly, how easily I could set myself up for a very early retirement. I got addicted to that idea, I guess."

"How long have you been doing it now?" I asked.

"Six years. About five or so more to go."

"Is this the first time you've been ripped off?"

"Yes. Well, no. One of my early deals, the guys pulled guns on me. Then they took the guns I was delivering without paying. But that was, I don't know, maybe only three guns. Nothing like this."

"Did you ever get those fucks for stealing from you?"

"Well, more or less."

"What did you do?"

"Remember, I was still a lot younger back then. New to all of this shit. I didn't feel comfortable trying to do anything myself. So, I may or may not have called in an anonymous tip to the police that I saw those assholes loading a bunch of guns into their car. Last I heard, they were all still in prison for criminal firearms possession."

I wanted her to keep talking, to tell me more about her life, to understand her better.

But the ferry was pulling into the port.

Whether I liked it or not, it was time to get back to work.

As expected, Elio was waiting in the lot, leaning back against his sleek black sedan with blackout windows that had to get him tickets fucking constantly.

"Saylor, nice to see you again," he said as we got close. "Ant, thanks for coming."

"Is everything alright with your brothers?" I asked, reaching to open the back door for Saylor.

"Yeah, just… usual business. They can barely spare me, let alone anyone else."

"So, where are we heading?" I asked as I climbed in the front with Elio.

"There's a house that they work out of. But as far as I can tell, shit has been calm there. Dead calm," he added. "Can't find anyone who has seen Matej. Not sounding good."

We fell into a silence on the short drive from the port to the neighborhood where this Czech crew was operating. It was a congested street, the houses all but on top of each other with small strips of grass in the front, and not much more out back.

All the houses were two stories with a steep staircase up to the first level, reminding me a bit of the street of row houses we'd been watching. Except each of these had their own unique styles and colors instead of matching.

Elio pulled to an open spot at the end of the block, but we had to walk halfway up to move in front of a bright green house with a protruding picture window and a sunken front door.

Elio stopped, pointing down the narrow space between the house and the one next door.

We made our way in single file down the side of the house, feet crunching on the loose gravel stone between the strip of concrete down the center.

In the back was a raised porch with a set of steep stairs.

Elio started toward them, then waved around to us, silently telling us to keep an eye as he went up and tried the back door.

I glanced over at Saylor, finding her positioned so she could see around the side of the house, but also up at Elio. Her hand held her gun casually, like someone who was comfortable as fuck with them.

I wondered how good of a shot she was. If she practiced. There were a couple of ranges in the city. I'd practically been raised in them, always knowing my future would involve being in the Family, and wanting to be an asset, not a liability.

I was a good shot.

Whether I would trip and fall while drawing a weapon was another story entirely.

Above me, Elio let out a whistle, and I gestured for Saylor to go up first with me taking up the rear, keeping an eye around us as Elio produced a lockpick kit, and getting to work on the door with Saylor being his eyes for him.

As silent as we all were, we heard the click in unison.

Elio straightened, sucked in a deep breath as he tucked his kit away, and reached again for his gun.

Then, with a nod, we moved inside.