“Seriously, take a couple weeks off and spend some time with your old lady. Garrett leaves for football camp in Chicago on Wednesday so we’ll have a week to ourselves to sleep in, eat breakfast in bed, and have sex in any room in the house we want. When the kid gets back, we can all hit the road.”
Zeke met the sparkle in her hazel eyes.
“Any room I want?”
“Any room you want without even having to throw our boys out,” Ginny said with an eyebrow wiggle.
“Vacation never sounded so good.”
Venders were still rolling up the sides of their tents and unloading their wares as Zeke and Ginny strolled into the market. Rows upon rows of tables groaned beneath the weight of fresh produce, antiques, clothing and crafts. There was something for everyone. Tiny trinkets and enticing treats beckoned to children, prompting them to tug at their parent’s clothing with imploring pleas. The scene brought a reminiscent smile to Ginny’s lips. She’d been coming to the market for years, many times with her own young boys in tow as she stocked the house and bar with fresh fruits and veggies. Zeke had seldom been able to pull himself away from work long enough to make the trip, and the boys, now grown, could no longer be bribed into coming with the promise of a new toy or cheap souvenir. Strolling through the elongated tents seemed such a mundane thing to do, but it was the simple pleasures, the trivial things that most couples took for granted that she savored with her workaholic husband.
“What happened to breakfast in bed and sex?” he murmured in her ear.
“You had that the last two days. Today you have to earn your keep and your nookie. Impress your woman with your bulging muscles and ready wallet.”
“I knew paradise couldn’t last forever.”
Wrapping her arm around her husband’s waist in a possessive display of pride, Ginny stopped to examine a colorful display of summer squash and zucchini. She could feel Zeke’s bemusement listening to her haggle for the best price. Walking away with a steal, she tucked a hand in his back pocket and leaned her head against his bicep to look up at him.
“What?”
“What what?”
“I can hear the wheels turning.”
“You just assured me that our finances were sound, so what’s with the fish wife routine?”
Ginny laughed at his unflattering description.
“I was not being a shrewish harpy. Haggling is part of the culture. It’s what makes garage sales and flea markets fun. It’s not a game for the meek and mild. Besides, how do you think I manage to tuck away a little Choo money?”
“By demeaning and defaming a defenseless old woman?”
“Don’t let Elaine’s prim bun and starched apron deceive you. That woman can out-haggle a Jewish fish wife,” Ginny said with a snort.
“Obviously not an Irish one though,” Zeke muttered, earning him an elbow to the ribs.
Bits of grass mingled with the sweat and dust coating Zeke’s bare torso as he trimmed the yard. Still early, the air hung muggy and still, promising the day would be a hot one. The last couple of weeks had been a welcome respite from the constant pressures of law enforcement. Ginny had gotten her ride. The whole club had made the trip down south through the mountains, before bringing Interstate 95 back up the coast. With perfect weather, a full turnout, and flawless cooperation from rival clubs along the route, it had been the Lord’s most successful run in the past couple of years.
A blur of color crossed Zeke’s peripheral vision. He glanced over his shoulder and frowned as the unmarked Crown Victoria pulled into the driveway. The driver and passenger were detectives from his squad, though Zeke didn’t consider them his friends. This was way outside their jurisdiction. A prickle of unease ran down his spine. Something was up. Zeke killed the weed-eater motor and squared his shoulders.
McElroy rounded the front of the car and Evans fell into step with him. Outwardly calm, Zeke dissected the situation. Their body language was more apologetic than aggressive. Neither uncovered their side arm as they approached. His gaze flickered briefly to the street, searching for backup. If this were another of Kramer’s pissing matches, he would have pulled out the whole dog and pony show in an effort to humiliate him in front of his neighbors. Cops or not, Zeke felt naked without his Glock.
“Brawer.” McElroy extended a hand.
“McElroy,” Zeke replied, taking the offered hand while keeping an eye on Evans who had stopped behind his partner.
The younger man fidgeted under Zeke’s scrutiny, but didn’t meet his gaze. The click of the front door opening drew the visitor’s attention. Zeke didn’t turn to look at his wife.
“I’m sorry.” McElroy cleared his throat, swallowing against the anguish etched into his lined face. “There is no easy way to say this. Someone put a hit on Lombardi this morning. He didn’t have a chance.”
Evans said something. Zeke saw his lips moving. He could read the genuine sorrow on his youthful features, but the words didn’t pierce the numbing fog. Ginny was behind him. He found comfort in the press of her body and the Glock’s penetrating chill as she slid it into the back of his waistband.
“How?”
“Execution style, up close and personal. The son-of-a-bitch shot him in the forehead while he was taking out the garbage. No one saw or heard a thing. When he didn’t come back…Jennifer went looking. She found him in the ally by the dumpster. It was too late.” McElroy shook his head, clearing his throat again. “You did the job when Bobby…” his voice trailed off. “I owed you this.”
Zeke nodded, remembering McElroy’s partner. The old man had taught them all a thing or two.
“Who caught the case?”
“O’Halleran and Pancamo.”
“Good cops. I’ve worked with them both.”
“We’re going to get this son-of-a-bitch,” McElroy promised.
Zeke didn’t have to say a word. The steely glint in his pale eyes spoke volumes.
Ginny hugged the distraught woman tight.
“I’m so sorry, honey.”
“I didn’t know if you would come. I’m so sorry about what I said at the Memorial Day party, Ginny. I really am,” Jen stammered.
“Honey, that’s water under the bridge. Families fight, but when it comes down to it, we’re here for one another. You know whatever Zeke and I can do to help…”
“I just can’t believe it. There were so many mornings I wondered to myself, ‘Is today the day?’ It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”
The pain and confusion in the woman’s eyes stabbed straight to the core of Ginny’s own fears. How many times had she watched Zeke pull out of the drive with the same thoughts playing in her head? She had sat this helpless vigil with too many women. Having a husband that pinned on the badge or fought for his country was a lonesome and frightening life.
A murmur of discontent pulled Ginny from her memories. Her lip curled in disdain spotting the man standing framed by the front door. Internal Affairs had the unenviable job of policing law enforcement officers. She had no doubt that some of these men and women simply did the job assigned to the best of their ability and went home. Paul Kramer personified the stereotypical prying, back-stabbing, rat that most people associated with I.A.
His colleagues avoided him as he made his way through the crowd. Thinly veiled contempt and unease marked him a leper in their midst. Pausing before the new widow, he offered words of sympathy devoid of substance. Squeezing Jen’s hand in support, Ginny struggled with her Irish ire. Snakes, like the one before her, made a mockery of the dedication and sacrifice good men and women made every day. He hid behind the letters of the law with little regard for the meaning in them. He would never be the one to put his life on the line, and yet presumed to judge the actions of those brave enough to do so. She felt Zeke step close behind her and was grateful for his strength.
“This must be the beautiful Mrs. Brawer I’ve heard so much about. I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.” Kramer sneered over her shoulder.
“And you won’t have it now.”
Kramer’s gaze snapped back to Ginny. The flush to his face and the furious way his jaw worked, said that her scathing words had cut deep. Tension crackled between them and Kramer took a step forward. Crowding her personal space, he used his height to look down at her. His cheap bullying techniques didn’t draw a flinch. A derisive smirk toyed at the corners of Ginny’s lips as she straightened to match his height and return his stare without blinking.
“Where were you this morning at approximately 0700 hours, Detective Brawer?” he inquired tightly.
“Making love to my wife. Before you ask, she can vouch for my whereabouts. It’s one of those little advantages to the real deal versus blowup Barbie.”
A muscle twitched in Kramer’s cheek.
“You might want to be thinking on a better alibi than that, Brawer. I doubt very much that ‘fucking my wife’ would hold up well in court.”
“And me without my politically correct partner. I guess I’ll just have to hope the Judge isn’t a five finger fellow like you.”
“I would like you to leave,” Jen choked through fresh tears. “Zeke and Jimmy were like brothers.”
“Did you not tell me when we spoke on the twenty-second that you had your doubts about Zeke Brawer’s honesty and where he got his money?”
“We’re a family, Detective Kramer. Families have their petty jealousies.”
“You were asked to leave.” Zeke’s reminder was pointed.
“So you can get your story straight with her the way you used to with her husband?”
“That’s enough, Kramer. I’ll show you out,” Captain Donovan said between clenched teeth. “This is neither the time nor the place.”
His nod forced, the muscle in his cheek working furiously, Kramer allowed Donovan to escort him to the door without another word.
“I’m sorry, Jen,” Ginny said, her voice soft with genuine regret.
“It’s ok. Thank you for reminding me what actually matters. Jimmy always said when the hour is darkest, your true friends show themselves.”
The sun cut through the early morning haze, glinting off the gunmetal gray casket. The smell of fresh turned soil hung heavy and cloying. A carpet of faux grass under foot seemed but an attempt to hide the gritty evidence before them. Hundreds of officers in their stiff dress blues lined the graveside to pay their respects.
Putting the last crease in the revered stars and stripes, Zeke stepped over to present it to Jen. Fresh tears flooded eyes already bloodshot and puffy. Bending, he brushed her cheek with his lips and then stepped into line beside her. As the final words were uttered, most remained rooted to the spot. Walking away hammered home the finality of the day and reminded those left behind of their own mortality.
Zeke started at a hand on his arm and looked down into Ginny’s concerned hazel gaze. At the unspoken question there, he nodded. She took his hand and gave it a squeeze in reply. They walked hand in hand, threading their way through the maze of stone markers in silence. Handing her into the passenger seat of their Charger, Zeke leaned on the open door. The impressive contingent of motorcycles and squad cars that had escorted the funeral procession were slowly clearing out. People walked to their cars, talked on their cell phones and made dinner plans. All around them were people preparing to go about their lives. A lump formed in his throat and he found himself wondering when he would feel that same sense of normalcy again, if ever.
Ginny hesitated coming out of the master bath. Zeke sat on the end of the bed, stripped to the waist. His elbows rested on his knees, his head in his hands. He had been quiet since the funeral. Kneeling on the edge, she crawled to her husband. Kneading the tense muscles along the top of his broad shoulders, she waited. His eyes drifted shut. She could feel him relaxing under her hands, and hear the low rumble of pleasure.
“I want the son-of-a-bitch that did this,” he muttered, rolling his shoulders. “If I go back, it’s just going to be more of the same. Kramer’s not letting up. With him up my ass I won’t be allowed anywhere near this case. With Jimmy gone, I have nothing holding me there. I have my retirement. I know I said I was going to work until the house was paid off …”
“The Lantern is doing well. Money is the least of our problems. If that’s what you want then do it, baby. I just want you to be happy. Tell them to go fuck themselves and retire. I have stuff you can do here.”
“Great. The honey-do list from hell,” he said with a mirthless snort.
Ginny laughed and hugged him. Planting a kiss between his shoulder blades, she smiled against his warm skin.
“Some of my demands are pleasant ones.”
She felt rather than heard his amusement.
“Demands now are they?”
“A woman has needs, Zeke Brawer.”
“Besides a pair of Jimmy Choos a year?”
That comment earned him the expected stinging slap to the middle of his broad back.
“It could be
Louboutin’s and
I have one pair, you beast.”
“One pair that cost as much as the other shoes in the household combined.”
“As I recall, the last time I wore them you declared them worth any amount of money.”
“A man can’t be held responsible for anything said in the throes of being spurred on by four inch stilettos.”
“Four and a half, but who’s counting?”
“If I retire we may not have that type of extra dough.”
Hands and lips gentle on his skin, Ginny closed her eyes to the worry in his voice.
“You’ve always been all that this family needs. Material things come and go. It’s the time spent together that we remember,” she murmured, struggling for the right words.
He turned, searching her face for confirmation.
“In five years will any of us remember what we got for Christmas this year? No, but in turn, do you think our boys are ever going to forget that weeklong ride we just took? That’s what matters. That’s what Jen buried today…not a paycheck.”
Zeke pulled his wife to him, burrowing his nose in her fragrant locks. Standing by, watching what Jen had gone through these past couple of days had made him think. A tremble passed through his mighty frame at the thought of ever losing this woman and he tightened his hold. He couldn’t lose her. He wondered if others knew she was his Kryptonite. Did she know? The odd thoughts chased around in his head as he pushed her down to the bed.