Return to Poughkeepsie (24 page)

The first part of his dream had given him a rock-hard boner. Making love to Eve would make sense right now. She’d loved Mouse. Damn it, she was so fucking mysterious…Mouse probably told her all about the school-kid drama. In his dream she’d said she was happy all the time. And it was just a dream. For fuck’s sake, his brain was farting out memories and pretend information at the same damn time with the regularity of his dog’s ass.

He looked in the mirror, which he rarely did. Well, okay, he did it all the damn time but never while thinking deep motherfucking thoughts. He looked just like any other handsome bastard with a huge dick. The reflection’s mouth pulled up in a half smirk. He’d been flopping around in Maryland for years, and all he’d really done was become a priest and parole officer for a collection of down-on-their-luck assholes.

He was supposed to be dead, like dream Eve had said. So maybe helping anyone was better than breathing dirt. He shook his head and his mirror-self mimicked him. As of right now, Chery and Vere were upstairs. His place had been transformed into a safe place for Vere to be. Her sensory shit was tossed around, task charts were posted, everything was ordered. He was blown away at all that was entailed in keeping Vere present in her everyday. Half the time it was like Chery was pulling teeth just to get a response, never mind any opinion, from Vere. Though the woman surely had preferences. She would play with Gandhi every second of the day if she could. And Vere’s diet was wicked restricted. Apparently Chery got good results from taking the gluten and various other shit out of Vere’s system. The more Beckett watched, the more he saw. Vere always made sure Chery’s shoes were face up and by the door. And every once in a great while, he would catch Vere looking Chery in the eyes without being prompted. Chery would light up, and he now knew why. The first time Vere made eye contact with Beckett, he’d felt a zing. It was almost like a sacred moment.

It was a high-maintenance lifestyle he’d had no idea some people lived everyday. When he found Chery doing her best to soothe a compulsively rocking Vere in the living room crazy-early one morning, he saw them both clearly: Chery was an amazing sister, and Vere was a hero—battling every day to get to Chery somehow.

Jared hadn’t come to the store or come snooping around his house since their encounter two weeks ago, so Beckett was fairly certain he’d scared the ever-fucking shit out of him. But he was also fairly certain his foray into acting like his old self had been like advertising where in the world he was. If Jared told the right people, he could be a dangerous motherfucker.

But maybe he wanted to be found. Why did it have to be one or the other? He wanted these two ladies safe, but he also wanted to beat the shit out of assholes until they started doing the right thing for the right reasons. Mouse and Eve. Chery and Vere. Blake and Cole. Emme and Kellan Beckett. Kyle and Whitebread. Mouse and Eve.

His heart overflowed with good intentions but his fists felt best covered in blood.

18

Recovery

A
FTER
T
WO
W
EEKS
O
F
N
EAR
S
ILENCE
, Mary Ellen summoned Eve to her compound again. This time Eve decided to make the visit count. After the drive to Somers, she waited twenty minutes for her majesty to be ready—and while she waited she ran through all the possible ways Mary Ellen could be on to her by now.

But when she was finally ushered into the ballroom, the woman practically skipped over to join her. She sat delicately and crossed her ankles. “So tell me, did he take the money?” She leaned forward like they were girls at a sleepover.

“Yes. I watched him pick it up at the post office box.” Eve listened carefully to her surroundings, wanting to hear anything out of the ordinary.

“Very good. And of course he has no idea about you?” Mary Ellen smiled again. It was so hollow, like she’d rehearsed exactly how to set her face so it would appeal to people.

“No, no idea. We’ve been on a few dates, and I can tell he’s falling for me. He’s close to his mother, and she approves of me. I let him know I like jewelry and money. And that my last boyfriend knew how to treat a lady—although that’s pretty much a lie.” Eve snorted a little laugh, and Mary Ellen looked intrigued.

“Do tell,” she said, batting her eyes.

“Well, I get the sense you already know,” Eve offered, looking down and playing the role as best she could. “You’ve mentioned him a couple times—Sevan Harmon?”

Mary Ellen’s face remained impassive, but her body jolted visibly, as if electricity had passed through.

“It was more than a year ago, and not even for very long, but he certainly left a mark.” Eve sighed, as if the whole thing were too painful to discuss. “I was of use to him, and then I wasn’t, and then he was gone. So yes, as I’ve mentioned before, you and I seem to have a common enemy.”

“Do you hate him very much?” Mary Ellen asked after a moment, her voice trembling slightly.

Eve knew then that Shark had been right. It wasn’t just business; this crazy vendetta was personal. Mary Ellen and Sevan Harmon had been romantically involved. “If he was on fire, I wouldn’t stop what I was doing to put him out.” She met Mary Ellen’s gaze.

“Mmmm…precisely.” The woman nodded. “I always sensed you and I had a lot in common.” She smiled an ugly little smile, and Eve suppressed a barf. “Well, don’t you worry. He’s going to be sorry he took from me. Just as soon as I have everyone in Poughkeepsie’s attention, I’m going to be the one who fans the flames.” She seemed about to finish with an evil laugh, but suddenly stopped herself, straightening her suit and smoothing her hair. “Anyway, I’m very busy. I don’t have all day to chat, so please finish your report.”

Just then Mary Ellen’s phone rang. “Oh, just a moment. I need to take this.”

Eve stood and looked out one of the huge windows. The truth was she and Ryan had been sharing information tentatively. He had yet to pin down exactly what she’d been involved with years ago, but he knew it was illegal, and he’d been treading carefully with her since the beginning. But he’d let her know where the cops were on following up with the harassments and escalating crimes in Poughkeepsie, and she’d helped him determine what sorts of information he could pass on to Mary Ellen without actually equipping her enough to be any more dangerous. And stupidly, they’d been getting along. He had a great sense of humor and kept her laughing, something she’d almost forgotten how to do. Just last night she’d caught him staring at her bottom lip longingly. It had taken her a second to realize she was doing the same thing to him.

Snapping back to her current dilemma, Eve paid attention to the bitch. She should have been listening to her phone call.

“All right, Eve, it seems I have some urgent business to attend to, but what you’ve told me is wonderful. I’m sure Ryan will love to spend his new money on you. Well done. And of course, you know where his mother is, in case I need to exterminate her?”

Eve turned and faced her. “Of course.”

“Let’s put that in the database, shall we?”

Mary Ellen motioned for another guard, and Eve noted a mass of angry scar tissue on his hand. She memorized his face.

Nearly a week later, Mary Ellen had finally mustered the courage she needed. She stood outside her father’s room and checked her lipstick in her compact before taking a deep breath. She’d been to visit Daddy a few times since he’d moved from the hospital to the rehab facility, and each time it was a little harder not to tell him everything. But she couldn’t. She needed to have everything back in place so she could speak from a place of strength when she finally laid out her hand. Her original goal remained unchanged: show her father she was worth her salt, not someone he could ignore or push aside. So he could know nothing of her current difficulties. She’d learned from her misstep with Sevan, and that was that. Besides, based on what January told her, she hadn’t been the first woman mistreated by him. Clearly he was a professional, so it was no wonder this had spiraled into such a mess. She could hardly be blamed at all. Her mind set straight, she opened the door.

Until this experience with her father,
recovery
had been a word that conjured images of rest and relaxation. This was anything but. Today Daddy was again working the arm weakened by his stroke, with his good arm strapped to his body to prevent him from using it. Sweat poured off him, and he concentrated so hard he barely looked up to see her enter. The therapist was a hard bitch, but that’s the way Daddy liked them.

The stroke had pissed her father off. He hated the idea that there was anyone—let alone parts of his own body—that would refuse to listen to him. He was used to making people jump with a glance, and now one of his hands was too lazy to grip a Vitullo-made pistol. Mary Ellen hoped the humbling of the stroke would soften him to her proposals, when it was time for them. If she could just keep the lost money off his radar until it had been returned…

“Dad! Look at you go, you prickly old bastard! Soon you’ll be able to hold your dick with your dominant hand again.” Primo strolled around the room like he was paying Rodolfo and not the other way around.

Mary Ellen’s mouth fell open.

“Insubordinate.” Rodolfo gave Primo a dark stare as he attempted to grip a plastic water glass. After a few moments, as if his anger had propelled him, he closed his hand around the cup and brought it to his lips for a sip. It took him a few tries to set it back down on the table, but he managed.

“Well done, Mr. Vitullo. Lunch will be along shortly, so let’s leave your other hand strapped until that’s finished.” The therapist made some notes on her iPad before passing Mary Ellen and Primo and disappearing through the doorway without a word.

How dare Primo show up?
He never visited Daddy. Someone must have tipped him off about her plans to be here. Now she had two mouths to keep in safe territory.

Their father leaned back and sighed. “You both want money? That why you’re here?”

Primo snorted. “Dad, don’t be silly. I came to see you.”

Mary Ellen narrowed her eyes. As far as she knew, Primo had just gotten back from gambling his face off in Vegas. Which probably also explained his presence.

“There’s nothing to worry about,” she said soothingly. “I’ve been working hard to keep things running until you’re back to full speed. You’re working so hard, I bet it’ll be soon.” She willed herself to make confident eye contact with her father, but she was only brave enough to look at his forehead.

“Really, Mary Ellen? How is it that I can’t get into the main luxury account?” Primo tried to look threatening, but his hand shook a bit.

“Well, I’m sure I don’t know,” she offered sweetly.

“She’s been doing all kinds of crazy things, Dad. She had a party last month and—”

“How much you on the line for, son?” Rodolfo’s voice was a bit slurred, but strong. Primo pretended not to understand him for two rounds of “what?” before Mary Ellen interpreted.

“He’s asking how much money you squandered in Vegas this time.” Both men gave her a sharp look. She always took a risk when she asserted her opinion.

“I didn’t lose anything. I just needed to refill so I could get into a higher-stakes game. It was a sure thing. Dad, you know I can make money double its worth. I was on a great run. That why I needed more, and I couldn’t get any. An opportunity totally lost! Care to explain that, Ms. Keeping Everything Running?”

Mary Ellen put her hand to her stiff forehead, trying to think quickly. Failing to plan for her brother’s insatiable need for cash had been an oversight. “I’m sorry you experienced a disruption in flushing Daddy’s money down the toilet. I just tightened the belt on you a bit. I’m focusing on our business, our more productive ventures, right now. I want to make sure those endeavors have all the capital they need.” She crossed her hands and ankles demurely.

Primo kept rubbing the back of his neck over and over. He was a classic picture of the addict he was, yet her father never seemed to see it.

“Mary Ellen, get Primo his funds by tomorrow. I’ll top you off, son. Don’t worry.”

Primo understood that perfectly. He made a big show of thanking their father and giving him a big hug. “Get better, Dad!” He flipped her off as he turned to exit, like a petulant teenager.