Page 20 of Nothing to Beat (Nothing to… #13)
WITHOUT KNOWING HER arrival time, she couldn’t tell how long her and Porter had been talking in his apartment. However long it was, the guy had time to get dressed and make coffee. For a while now, he’d been pacing, scrutinizing one handwritten page he’d taken from the others.
“This is incredible.”
“It happened a long time ago,” she said.
“There’s no statute of limitation on murder.”
No, she knew that. “I mean not all of the players are still involved.” And it would be flat cruel to draw them back in. “We don’t even know if they’re still alive.”
“But you think she’s still alive?” he asked, raising the pulp. “This Rosita?”
“The last time I saw her, she was alive. But we’re talking years since then, I can’t say that now.”
“Your father cared for her.”
“If he didn’t, she wouldn’t have been allowed to live long enough for me to see her again.”
“You can testify in court. Tell the—”
“No, I told you no. I was a teenager and it was a million years ago. Besides, isn’t whatever she told me hearsay? I didn’t see it happen myself.”
“But you did see their intimacy. You witnessed their affair.”
More times than she cared to admit. “My father always had mistresses. Sometimes they lasted the night, sometimes it was years.”
“Have you written them down?” he asked, marching back to the desk. “Their names, the dates you—”
“I didn’t always know their names or the dates they slept with my father.”
Which was a ridiculous enough thing to say that he should appreciate the absurdity of the question. Those women, the ones who’d broken free, it wouldn’t be fair to drag them back. They’d have new lives now, and maybe the people in them wouldn’t want to know about their pasts.
“If we know their names, details, we can trace them, find out what they know.”
“They could be anywhere by now.”
“We have people who do this kind of thing full-time. And the more names we have, the better. If nothing else, it adds to the timeline, gives more context. You never know what detail could be crucial.”
“Involving them puts them at risk. It’s not safe. You should know that as well as anyone; someone connected to my family will be responsible for flambeeing your apartment. Think about that. How many other people will get hurt if you start harassing them?”
Which was exactly the reason she hadn’t put identifying information down for those she considered just passing through.
Fleeting connections didn’t tend to lead to the sharing of incriminating information.
But what did that matter? If anyone loyal to the Gambattos saw investigators and law enforcement sneaking around with someone, they wouldn’t stop to give that someone the benefit of the doubt.
Shoot first, ask questions later. What was another life? Innocent or not.
“How much harm will your father do over the next five years, ten years, if we can’t put him in jail?”
Damnit, yeah, okay, there was that. Didn’t Porter get that she didn’t have to be convinced? How many more lives would…?
“You have to promise me you’ll be careful, discreet, and the information didn’t come from me.
I don’t want them in the witness box, not unless you can promise to protect them.
” Could anyone official do that a hundred percent?
“No coercion. And their details didn’t come from me.
Do not mention my name to them, to anyone. ”
“Absolutely. Whatever you need.”
On a sigh, she opened her hand. “Do you have a pen?”
This was a bad idea, she was getting drawn back in herself.
See how easily it could happen? It snuck up on her.
This was why she didn’t come back to Chicago.
God, and what was worse? All she kept thinking was how much she wanted Breck there.
She could be impulsive, maybe didn’t think everything through.
And what happened in those situations? Breck caught her hand, pulled her back and just looked into her eyes until she got it.
They didn’t need words to communicate, but she did need contact. Physical contact.
One phone call and—no, there was a reason she’d turned her phone off. She should’ve left it in New York, that would’ve been the smarter plan.
Almost done with her list, a sound from upstairs stopped the pen on the paper. Was that a door slamming? Footsteps, fast, slow, a pause…
“Who’s that?” she asked. “Someone’s upstairs.”
“People come and go around here,” Porter said. “Could be anyone.”
“Is it Roxie?”
“That sounded more like the front door,” he said. “Could be Rainie, Trevor, Zairn, I don’t—”
“Zairn? Why would he—”
“Roxie’s here,” he said with a shrug. “I think. God knows with that woman. Disappearing at two a.m. would be exactly her style, especially recently.”
Being ditched was preferrable over Zairn showing up unannounced. How would she hold up under his scrutiny? And Roxie wouldn’t lie to him if asked straight out why they were there, would she? She shouldn’t be promoting conflict in others’ relationships, and what else did secrets cause?
The movement noises continued, then the mumble of a muffled voice. Now there was more than one person up there. Great.
On edge, she put the pen down. “Shit, I thought I could get back before they knew I was gone.”
“We still have work to do.”
“No,” she said and stood up. “I don’t want anyone to come looking for me. What am I supposed to tell Roxie?”
“Tell her you went for a walk.”
Oh, yeah, brilliant. “Alone on Chicago streets where anyone could recognize me?” And this guy was supposed to be smart. “You think she’ll buy that?”
“No,” Porter said. “But she’ll let you get away with it. She’ll believe when you’re ready, you’ll tell her. Otherwise, your business is your business. She won’t push.”
Nice to know, though the same may not be said for Tripp.
He wouldn’t push, but he might ask, repeatedly.
At least she could be sure neither would tell Breck about her momentary disappearance.
Tripp because he never told anyone’s secrets to others, and Roxie because, well, she didn’t know Breck all that much.
Why would they ever have cause to seek each other out or talk…
? Although… wasn’t he going to the wedding?
Shit. Was anyone not going to the wedding of the century?
Roxie could tell Alice… hmm… No, she wouldn’t… would she?
Alice was lethal when it came to secrets. Her kindness, the soft note of her voice, probing without being invasive. That woman could give CIA interrogators a run for their money with nothing more than a smile.
The longer she loitered in Porter’s apartment, the harder walking into Roxie’s would be.
“Okay, I’m going upstairs.”
“What about the names?” he asked, leaping into her way on route to the door.
“I’ll finish later, you’ve got enough to go on.” Now he was just being rude. “I’ll put a note under your door later. Are you going into work?”
“Planned to. I can wait. I’ll come upstairs—”
“No, you won’t,” she said, planting a hand on his chest when he tried to go around her. “Roxie won’t buy the walk story if we’re together. What kind of walk includes her ex-boyfriend?”
“She won’t be jealous.”
A tsk. “I don’t care about jealous.” It wouldn’t be nice to laugh in his face. If he thought anyone would ever put them together in an intimate way… Wasn’t his fault he’d never seen her and Breck in action. “I care about answering questions that might lead to what we’ve been doing here coming out.”
His twitch of a smile wasn’t appreciated. “No one will find out.”
“It’s not your life on the line here.”
“Your father doesn’t want you dead. If he thought you knew anything that could lead to—he’d have done it years ago. Don’t you think?”
She stepped closer, lowering her pitch and volume. “My life is nothing compared to those I care about.” Yeah, not so funny now. “And if you don’t take Gambatto capability seriously, you shouldn’t be doing this job.”
“He’s weak—”
“You think that matters?” Her laugh wasn’t one of amusement. “God, all this time and you’ve learned nothing.”
His brow hardened. “I’ve learned plenty.
Most important of which is where the power lies.
I could choose to live in fear, put the possibilities ahead of faith that we will come out on top.
But I don’t. I don’t give him the power.
He doesn’t have it unless you put it in his hands.
” His scrutiny narrowed. “That’s what he wants, can’t you see that?
Trust your own strength. Otherwise, he wins. ”
And that sounded exactly like something Breck would say. It must be nice to have that kind of clarity. Every time, in the past, when she’d underestimated the patriarch, she’d lived to regret it.
Damnit, shouldn’t it be different by now? Why did she regress to an anxiety-ridden teenager every time she imagined facing off with her father? She was a confident, successful woman, her own strength grew every day.
Pop psychology would have to wait for another time. He’d distracted her long enough.
“Stay here,” was all she said and left, without him on her heels.