Page 15 of Nothing to Beat (Nothing to… #13)

AFTER A SQUEEZE of her shoulders, Tripp let go to go pour drinks.

“Catch up time!” Roxie announced. Sometimes she forgot how much there was to know about the new woman in her life.

Ever the hostess, Roxie went to the living room and gestured at the seats.

“Everyone sit down. Relax. Kick off your shoes.” All eyes dropped to Roxie’s bare feet. “I’m at home everywhere.”

“Have you seen your father since you got back?” Porter asked, going to join Roxie, though it was Sequoia he wanted the answer from judging by the direction of his expectant gaze.

“My father—speaking of, why isn’t he in jail?”

She wasn’t surprised, but did doubt how slick this prosecutor could be if he let that slip by him.

“You really haven’t kept up,” Porter said. “He made bail.”

Roxie sat at the end of the couch while Porter took a seat in an armchair. All very civilized.

“Why on earth would anyone let—”

“Probably best not to ask that question in Chicago,” Roxie muttered from the corner of her mouth.

“Your father has influence,” Tripp said from the kitchen.

Yeah, and bribed his way out. Plus he knew things, some things people might not want getting out. Damn, it was so unfair that he kept getting away with his bullshit.

Putting that aside, this was an opportunity to get answers. Except she didn’t know this prosecutor guy, didn’t know what he’d tell her or how much to trust him. Asking her sister was one thing, opening up to a stranger…

Okay, she was no slouch, how could she frame this? Hmm, ah, mental deep breath, and over she went to sit on the couch opposite Roxie.

“My brother didn’t slip through the net.”

“No offense, but your brother doesn’t invite the same loyalty… or have the same smarts.”

“And he doesn’t have the best impulse control.” Came from a lifetime of being spoiled and entitled. “It’s better that he’s there.”

No doubt her father used some of his influence to keep Joey behind bars. Would he want a Gambatto back there? No, not exactly. Trouble with Joey was that he spent too much time getting in his own way.

“Now or in the long-term?” Porter asked.

A nd the prosecutor was invested in her potential answer, the discernment in his eye betrayed that.

Porter was sizing her up. Just as she needed to get a measure of him, he clearly wanted a measure of her too.

If he was to be honest, there would have to be trust. It wouldn’t be easy for him to hand that out to a Gambatto, regardless of the history.

Could be that Tripp’s showdown was coming in a different form than expected.

But, seriously, who would she tell? At worst, it would be a Breckenridge and Porter already declared a proclivity for them.

She definitely wouldn’t be rushing back to her ancestral home to boast about gathering intelligence.

And what about him? This might be a casual conversation to her, was it to him? She didn’t want to be called to the stand to relay any details of it further down the line.

“I have to be conscious—”

“Off the record,” Porter said, relaxing into a smile that she wanted to trust.

His intuition was good. Did that make him better at his job? More likely to succeed? Another bias peeked through. Not bias, wishful thinking.

“It’s strange being back in Chicago,” she confessed, starting small.

“Something in the air, just breathing it in…” Every little thing was a reminder of something, of the life she’d left behind.

Like an ominous warning, if she stayed too long it might suck her back in.

“I’m not usually so guarded in New York. ”

Or so serious and suspicious. Until then, she’d taken that freedom for granted. It was funny how fast a person could be transported back in time. Unsettling, actually. Would she always be a scared kid somewhere in her psyche?

“I assume you don’t live the same lifestyle there.”

As she had in Chicago as a child? As a teen? That was a lifetime ago, yet right there on her periphery all the time.

“In New York, I can trust the people around me…” for the most part. “But I’d be lying if I said my family don’t still influence my decisions.”

“We take care of each other in New York,” Tripp said, approaching to distribute mixed drinks. She immediately put hers aside on the end table. “Seq’s not so good at remembering that.”

“Given her upbringing, I can forgive her.”

Back then, forgetting could mean injury or worse. Where she’d been was one thing; where she’d end up mattered more. Don’t languish, progress. The past wouldn’t change, the road ahead was still to be built.

“Are you pursuing a case against my father?” In truth, she couldn’t remember a time when there hadn’t been some agency or department building a file on him. “Realistically. A case that might actually end somewhere around twenty-five to life.”

All the years of investigation, paperwork, surveillance, files got thicker until he probably had his own row in the file room.

Yet not one charge stuck. He was Teflon, that’s what he told people as he laughed at feeble attempts by law enforcement to trap him behind bars.

His arrogance was sickening, but it was difficult not to believe him invincible when he rose over and over again.

“There are a number of charges leveled at him,” Porter said. “We’re taking as many of his men from the streets as we can.”

No one would cut a deal, if that was the expectation.

Fewer soldiers on the streets explained the Gambattos shrinking territory.

There was no one around to stake a claim, to defend what they asserted was theirs.

The reduced manpower made it difficult to hold onto any respectable amount of control.

And by respectable, she meant to the other families, the families who’d poached most of the Gambatto territory.

The Gambattos were weak and there was no mercy in this town.

The other families could have at it, for all she cared, she wouldn’t be raising her children there… If she had children.

“What are the odds, Mr. Clement? Is there a chance he’ll be taken off the street for good?”

“The more evidence we have, the better.”

Her eyes met Tripp’s as he sat beside her. “Time to call Axon?” he asked.

Another of the Breckenridge brothers. One of two security specialists in the family.

“No,” she said, her head shaking.

Except Tripp could see through her facade into the workings of her mind.

Maybe that was the key to the whole thing.

Witness protection—private or federal. Her father wouldn’t be able to reach her if she was in hiding.

And Breck? She’d tell him to stay behind in New York with the people who loved him, but what would be the point?

He wouldn’t listen to that request any more than she would in his shoes.

And, truth be told, the only reason to get into the witness box would be to put her father away.

Someone may ask why she’d testify. The answer was to free them, to be with Breck, that was why.

She’d put her father in a cage to liberate her relationship.

There was that selfish bone again; her Gambatto blood had to be curtailed.

Her head was in the clouds. What would be the point of freeing them only to disappear into hiding? She wouldn’t. That meant if she testified and disappeared, Breck would be right there with her.

But the thing with Breck? They were polar opposites in family and upbringing. His family, their stability, meant everything to him. Would she steal him away from that?

“I would never do that to your mother,” she said to Tripp as though he’d been reading her mind. “To your family.”

“We can protect the Breckenridges if—”

“The Breckenridges don’t need your protection,” Tripp said to Porter. “She’s talking about taking my brother with her because we both know he’ll never watch her walk away alone.”

“I can talk to him if—”

“It doesn’t matter,” she interjected. “Like you said, I’ve been gone too long. I don’t know anything about current Gambatto operations.”

“We’re open to historical allegations. Anything you can give us to point—”

“This isn’t what I wanted,” she said. “I’m not here to testify against my father or to get myself in deeper.

” She hadn’t known she was coming “here” at all, not to the prosecutor’s residence.

Getting sucked back and could happen fast. Not only suspicious, she had to be wary too.

“I want my father in prison; he’s a danger to society and that’s where he belongs.

” True. And it sure sounded good, better than the lustful truth.

“But this started as a case against my brother, Joey. Is that where it ends? Is he who you want?”

If they stopped there, ultimately, nothing would change, not for her.

“Joey’s conviction is almost guaranteed,” Porter said. “With what Trish knows, he’ll be convicted of Ava Marilyn’s murder.”

Miss Illinois. God, it was sickening. How could anyone think they had the right to take another life? That woman had been in her prime and Joey cut her down. Why? She didn’t know. Any reason would be a pitiful excuse.

“Will you make a deal?” she asked, knowing that was one way to achieve his ends.

“The case is strong enough that we don’t have to. Though there’s a chance of Joey working something out in California. They’re desperate to get at him.”

Was it a surprise her brother was wanted in more than one state? No. Though she didn’t know the particulars.

“California?”

“Dayah Lynn,” Roxie said. “He’s going down for Dayah’s murder too?”

The look Roxie and Porter exchanged was curious.

“Dayah Lynn,” she murmured, her fingers linking with Tripp’s. “The actress? Joey murdered her?”

The beauty’s death made headlines at the time, a couple of years ago, at least.

“According to Trish,” Roxie said.

Why did it feel like something wasn’t being said. “What does that mean?”

Porter sighed. “LA could never make murder.”

“Until Trish put the pieces together.”

The true pieces or… otherwise?