Finding Gary (The Romanovsky Brothers Book 4) (3 page)

Jessica’s blank eyes searched the room, her body too overcome with emotion to even allow her to express it in her eyes. She pulled her cell phone from her back pocket with trembling fingers, dialing a number.

“This is Harper.”

She sighed at the sound of her boss’ voice and did what she hated most.  Swallowed her pride.

“Do I still have my job?” she asked, her wide eyes searching the busy hospital hallway.

“Have you turned on a television in the last hour?  Of course you still have your job, B.”  From the other end of the line, her Supervising Agent, Sam Harper, chuckled.  “They just keep setting them up, and you just keep knocking them out of the park.  You did it.  You broke him down.  This case is yours until you no longer want it to be.”

Jessica exhaled. 

Taking her silence as something negative, Sam did too.  “I was wrong for doubting you.  Break them down mentally until they can’t take it anymore.  Let me tell you; I’ll never doubt you again, B.  You have my word.  Genius.”

“It doesn’t feel genius,” Jessica said, turning back to Roman just in time to see him collapsing against the wall adjacent to Angie’s room, his hands enveloping his face.  “It feels like shit.  But I’m glad to hear I still have my job so I can fix what I’ve broken.”

“Broken?  Our suspect just confessed.”

“And yet Victor King is still free.  Victor King is still breathing.  So our job isn’t even halfway done.”

“Patience, B…”

“I don’t have time for that word.”

“You’ve built an entire career on that word.”

“Harp, I don’t have time!”  Jessica took a moment when she felt herself on the verge of coming apart.  She lowered her voice, pacing the hallway. “I need you to do me a favor.  I can’t focus on anything but Zoey and Angie right now.”

“Name it.”

“I got a phone call tonight.  It was a man, maybe even a woman disguising her voice, warning me not to go back to my apartment.  He warned me about the carbon monoxide.”

“Why am I only hearing about this now?”

“Right after that phone call, I found out Angie Colt was in the process of breaking into my place.  I found her lying on my kitchen floor, half conscious.  It was meant for me, Harp.”  Jessica stopped pacing, taking his silence as confirmation.  “And my money’s on Victor King.”

“The number that called you?”

“I’ll send it once we hang up.  Whoever it was, knows who was trying to kill me, and is probably connected to King.”

“I’m on it.”  Harper breathed deep and lowered his voice to the authoritative, fatherly level he rarely took with her.  “Damn it, B, stay safe.”

“I will. Call you later.”  She ended the call and dialed another number, making her way towards the exit.  “Chet, I’m on my way back to Presbyterian, give me good news,” she begged.

“Why haven’t you been answering your phone?”

“Because I’ve been running back and forth between two hospitals for over an hour.  Because Gary has just blown the lid off this whole thing.  Because this case is about to tear me limb from limb if another fucking thing goes wrong.  Because Angie is on the verge of death, Chet.  That’s why I haven’t answered my phone. Now give me good fucking news, please."

“Sorry…  But the
bad
news is that another innocent victim just joined this shit show, here at Presbyterian.”  Chet’s voice remained strangled as if he’d just run a mile.  “Zoey saw the news and went into premature labor.  It’s a boy.”

Jessica ended the call and turned on her heel, racing toward the exit.

***

Still bent over in her chair, amazed that she hadn’t yet yanked every strand of hair straight from the scalp, Zoey gasped at the sound of a knock.  Her burning eyes rose to the door, and she was only able to breathe again when she caught sight of Jessica Borgia in the entryway, giving her an uneasy smile.  Feeling the slight sting to her eyes, just as swollen as her lips, Zoey sat tall.  She could see in Jessica’s eyes how terrible she must look.  She’d never seen Jessica emote much of anything, least of all pity, but alas, there it was.

Jessica leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.

Zoey’s eyes fell to the gold badge clasped to Jessica’s hip.  It caught the moonlight beaming in through the pediatric ward’s windows.

“Must be nice to be able to flaunt that thing now, huh?” Zoey asked, voice hoarse. 

Jessica stood tall and snatched the badge from her waistband, shoving it in her back pocket.  “Forgot I had it on,” she whispered.  “It helps to get things done around here when it’s out in the open.  Didn’t mean to shove it in your face.”

“You don’t have to hide it from me.  A day ago, you might’ve.  Back when I had no idea that the people I’ve called my family for the last ten years were never really my family at all.”

Jessica shifted, letting her crossed arms fall to her sides.

Zoey tried to smile, but all she managed was a strained chuckle.  “I can’t believe I didn’t see it all along.  Of course you’re a cop.  It seems so obvious now.”

“I’m a federal agent—not a cop.  Most days, that mix up would earn you a quick fist to the balls, but I’ll let it slide this time.  Mostly because you don’t have balls.  But also because you’ve already been through the fucking wringer.”

Zoey had the grace to try to smile, but couldn’t.  Her eyes flew back to the incubator and, despite her fight; a sob escaped her lips the moment she got a look at Marcus.  She buried her head in her hands, stunned that there was even a single tear left in her shattered body to shed.

The squeak of Jessica’s combat boots grew closer.  When the sound passed her and proceeded towards the incubator, Zoey looked up, just in time to see Jessica place a gentle hand on the machine, taking in the tiny bundle, with gentle eyes.

“1 pound, 11 ounces,” Jessica breathed, her hand turning to a claw, scratching at the glass.  She snuck a peek at Zoey.  “He’s a soldier, I can already tell.  Look at those fingernails.  I bet the next time I’m in here; he’ll have clawed those giraffe-print bed sheets to shreds.”

Zoey didn’t smile, holding Jessica’s eyes.  “I don’t want them anywhere near me or my baby.  None of them.”

Jessica straightened, crossing her arms again.  “My partner already has security at the doors downstairs, and at the entrance to the NICU.  Nobody is getting near you without his or my express consent.”

“I haven’t seen or spoken to your partner.”

“His name is Chet, and he moves in silence.  He works surveillance, so it’s his job to be invisible.  But he gets shit done.”

That should have been good news, but it only sent Zoey exploding into tears again.  They flowed like a faucet as she dropped her head.  Jessica’s boots came into Zoey’s view, and then her knees as she bent down next to the chair. 

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you, or Marcus,” Jessica whispered, rubbing Zoey’s back.  “I know it might be hard to see it now, but I’ve been trying to protect you both this entire time.”

“You know what’s hard to see?” Zoey lifted her head just high enough to meet Jessica’s eyes.  “It’s hard to see how I could’ve been such a fool.”

“Zoey…”

“It’s hard to see how I could’ve been so blind.”  Zoey sniffled.  “Did you know that Gary hated Angie on sight? He’s hated her from the very second she came into my life.  Why?  He could never give me a real reason.” Zoey’s voice broke.  “He hated Angie because she’s been trying to find my parent’s killer since the moment we met.  That’s why he hated her.”

Jessica sighed.

“When I was fourteen Val laid in bed with me, every night, and held me while I cried over my parents.  He called it love, and I believed him because that’s what it felt like.  That’s what you feel when someone holds you in their arms until the pain stops.  It feels like love.  I never once considered that maybe it wasn’t love, but guilt.”  Zoey’s lips curled.  “He held me because he knew, and he was guilty.”

Jessica scooted closer, so close that the tears falling from Zoey’s eyes hit her jeans, wetting them and making them tinge a little darker. 

“I wasn’t the least bit suspicious why Tony would take me into his home; no questions asked when he already had five mouths he was struggling to feed.  Even if he and my father were…” Zoey made finger quotes.  “Friends… it still didn’t make sense.  I barely knew Tony.  But he took me in?  Why?  Because he knew it, too.  They all knew.  And little orphan Zoey, none the wiser, bopping around like the fucking idiot she’s always been…”

“Zoey…” Jessica begged, rubbing her back a little faster.  “Take it easy on yourself, alright?”

“It’s hard to see how I could be such a fool.  It’s hard to see all of it.  But it’s not hard to see that you were protecting me. That you’re the only person in my life who’s moved with any real truth.  The only person who’s out to end the people that moved with lies.”  Zoey met her eyes.  “And I want you to end them all.  Every last one of them.”

“You’re angry.”

“Was it all of them?” Zoey frowned.  “Did they all know?”

“Not as far as I know.”

“Who?  Who knew?”

Jessica’s head fell.  “For certain? Val, Tony, and obviously Gary.”

Zoey’s face collapsed again, a lone tear tumbling from her eye.  “So Tony made it disappear. That’s how Gary got off.”

“We don’t know that.  The case is still ongoing. There’s still a lot to learn about what happened that night, and it looks like Gary is ready to talk.”

“I never want to see any of them again for as long as I live.  They will never lay eyes on my son, touch him, or even know his name.” 

“Okay,” Jessica agreed.

“Not Leo.  Not Roman.  Not Bette.  I don’t care whether or not they knew.” 

“They won’t get near you.  Like I said, Chet has men on all the doors.  I’ve already spoken to my superiors about getting you and Marcus into a protection program.  We’ll have that finalized before the day is out.”

Zoey nodded, her eyes going back to the incubator where her baby boy was fighting for his life.  A fury she’d never experienced sent a new rush of moisture to her eyes, but this time, she was able to stop them from falling.  The angry tears, she’d learned, were easier to stifle.

“Zoey?”

A new voice stunned both Jessica and Zoey.  Their eyes flew to the door of the room where a young blonde nurse was smiling.

The nurse made her way in, clutching a chart.  “How’s everything?”

“Shitty,” Jessica answered for Zoey.

The nurse nodded.  “I was about to send off the forms for Marcus’ birth certificate, then I realized…” The nurse paused with a sigh, as if continuing was too painful to bear—as if she’d lost a bet with all the other nurses, and had been forced to do this.  She spit out her next words in rapid fire.  “Well, it seems you’ve forgotten to include the father’s information.  We need that, as well as his signature, before we send it off and make it official.”  The nurse took a deep breath, clearly relieved that she’d managed to spit it out without dying of embarrassment.

A long silence fell in.  The nurse’s eyes fell to the floor, and she held out the chart to Zoey.

“I didn’t forget anything.” Zoey rose her eyes to the nurse, ignoring the chart on offer.  Her voice broke as she whispered her next words, her eyes going vacant.  “My son doesn’t have a father.”

3

In the wake of Gary’s confession, most would believe Val Romanovsky’s first order of business would be protecting his company.  As Novsky’s founder and CEO, he was well aware of the tight corner this scandal would force his company into.  The Romanovsky name would now be firmly attached to a homicide.  Val’s reputation wasn’t the only thing in danger, but also his stock.  His shareholders.  One false move would destroy them all forever.  Turning his head was not an option.  Time was of the essence, and Novsky would need every shred of his attention if it had any hope of surviving. 

If it were any night but that night. 

That night, Val had received the worst news of his life, and it had nothing to do with Novsky.

He should’ve seen it coming.  He should’ve known it the moment Leo had joined him, Gary and Roman on Novsky’s balcony that night, blasting them with the news that Jessica Borgia—a girl they’d all known as Ashley Williams—was a federal agent investigating their family.  Val should’ve known it when, mere seconds after Leo had blasted them with that news, Gary’s entire face had collapsed.  Then, in the next instant, a calm had floated over Gary’s face.  Val had watched it happen.  It wasn’t a positive calm, but a resigned one.  One that screamed surrender.  Gary had already surrendered when he’d left that balcony without another word.  Without another glance.

Val should’ve known it right then.

But he hadn’t wanted to.

He hadn’t wanted to believe that Gary had been bent to the point of—not just breaking—but shattering completely.  He didn’t want to know that Gary was so torn up inside that his last desperate claw for peace would be made atop a desk at The New York Post. 

People always said when it rained; it poured, but those words had never resonated with Val.  An action minded man; he believed there was always a choice.  When it rained, you got under an umbrella, or you got wet.  Adversity could only affect you as much as you allowed it to.  Now, Val knew nothing was further from the truth.  Now, Val understood, for the first time in his life, what a complete loss of control felt like.  It left him fighting to keep the bile gurgling in his stomach from jetting up his throat.

While Gary had been on his way to The New York Post, ignoring his ringing phone, Val, Roman and Leo had just been blasted with the heart churning news that Zoey was miscarrying, and Angie was unconscious.  It had felt like something out of a movie, and at that very moment, it still didn’t feel real.

How wrong Val had been.  When it rained, it certainly poured.

As his twin brother, Leo Romanovsky brought his cherry apple red Porsche Carrera to a screeching halt in front of Westchester Presbyterian Hospital, Val had already thrown open the passenger door and had one foot on the gravel before the car had even come to a complete stop.  He left the door hanging open as he leaped out of the passenger seat and raced towards the sliding doors of the emergency room, dodging hospital personnel and patients as he moved.

Once inside, breathless, Val took only two seconds to survey the room before he moved past the welcome desk and straight to the double doors that led to the operating rooms in the back.

The nurse at the welcome table hopped from her seat as Val went blazing by, holding out a halfhearted hand.  “Mr. Romanovsky, you need to sign in.”

Val didn’t take a moment to wonder how she knew his name with no introduction.  Most people in Manhattan did.  The especially obsessive ones also knew his favorite color, his date of birth, and a plethora of other random facts that people only cared to learn when they were attributed to a multimillionaire. 

And the nurse wasn’t the only person with his name on her lips.  From the far corner of the room, his name floated from the speakers of the television perched on the ceiling.  His stomach dropped, but he didn’t turn towards the TV to confirm what he already knew was there. 

Everything ceased to exist.  The curious looks.  The whispered voices.  As he raced towards the double doors, all that he could think, hear, feel—all that mattered, was getting to her.

Getting to him.

Not even when two NYPD officers came into Val’s sight, shoulder to shoulder on either side of the doors, did Val slow his pace.

The officers held out their hands as he approached.

Val held out his own hands, signaling peace, but the look in his eyes made the opposite clear. If these men were planning on trying to stop him, he wasn’t looking for peace, and he wasn’t above a fight.

The officers must’ve seen that gleam in Val’s eyes, that gleam that meant a man was readying himself for battle because they both planted their feet.

“Mr. Romanovsky…” The officer with the bald head and healthy waist cleared his throat.  “We’re going to have to ask you to turn around and leave right now, sir.”

“That’s my son in there.” Val’s voice trembled.  “I just want to see my son.”

The thinner, younger officer reached out a friendly hand, but Val swatted it away.

The officer gritted his teeth, holding his hands out at his sides as if surrendering. 

But Val knew what he saw, and now, he wasn’t the only one primed for a fight.  He wasn’t blind to the eyes he was catching from every corner of the room, the bodies gradually closing in on him, or the TV still showcasing his name—along with his mug shot.

He brought his fists down to his sides.  “I just want to see… my son.”

“We have implicit orders from the FBI that you’re not to be within one hundred feet of Zoey Black, or her son.”

“Our son,” Val corrected, his voice slamming into every wall in the room, which had grown pin-drop silent.  “My son.”

“You need to leave.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“We strongly suggest that you do,” one officer said. 

“Unless you’d like to get better acquainted with the jail cell your little brother is on his way into right now.”

Val nearly emptied his stomach.  The thought of Zoey miscarrying, of his child being on the other side of those double doors somewhere, had left him so blind with desperation and grief, he’d nearly forgotten about Gary.  The moment his baby brother’s face entered his mind, he was forced to swallow back a heave, as the vision was too much to shoulder.  Val couldn’t bench another ounce.

Trying to breathe past the ferocious gurgling in his gut, Val looked to his left.  Patients, hospital personnel and security alike were all on their feet; some with their arms crossed, some with fire in their eyes, all looking about two seconds from going for his neck.  He looked to his right and found a scene that wasn’t much different.

His lips trembled, and when he looked back at the officers, he struggled to speak.  “I just…”

“Mr. Romanovsky, we will place you under arrest if you do not leave the premises now.”

“I just want to know if my son is okay.”

“Mr. Romanovsky…”

Despite his fight, Val’s voice rose.  “I just want to know if my son is
alive
.  Please!”

When two pairs of arms took hold of Val from behind, he nearly swung.  By the grace of God, he managed to hold back, just in time to hear Leo’s voice in his ear.

“Let’s go,” Leo’s voice was gruff, the perfect compliment to the numbing hold he had on Val’s arms.  “Now.  No sense in you joining Gary.”

Gary.

Val heard the name in his head, saw his face flash across his mind, and nearly hit the ceiling.

As Leo began to drag him away, Val’s voice did hit the ceiling, shaking with naked need as he took in the officers growing smaller in his blurred vision.  “Please just tell me if my son is alive!”

No one in the room confirmed or denied, not the police or the employees, and as Leo muscled Val off the premises, one thing became crystal clear.

If his child didn’t make it, neither would Gary. 

Because Val would end his life.

***

Gary kept his head firmly between his knees, trying to ignore the stench of mold and urine.  Not even when the jingling of keys bounced off the tight walls, floated down the long hall, and surrounded him in the four by four box he’d been rotting in all night, did he look up.   Not even when those jingles died down the moment they sounded close enough to touch.  Not even when the sound of the key disagreeing with the cell lock rang out did he have the heart to look up.

Not until he heard the voice.  The voice he’d been both longing for and dreading.  The voice he’d known would come.

“I should let you rot in here.”

Gary lifted his head, and the moment he caught eyes with Val, the urge to look down or away, to avoid what he saw in his brother’s gleaming gold eyes, was almost overwhelming.

But Gary didn’t look away.  He held Val’s gaze across the small prison cell, noting that his dark hair had come apart, falling into his eyes.  His tanned skin was flush.  Thick black eyebrows pulled tight.  Gary’s eyes moved to the hand Val had on the guard’s arm, stopping him from opening the cell.

Green eyes battled with gold, and Val’s face flashed with a vast range of expressions, all of which contradicted the calm stance he held, his deep even breaths, the straight line of his lips.

Moisture filled Gary’s eyes, and he clasped his hands together, squeezing them so tightly he nearly pulled the skin from his bones.

“I should let you rot in here… until you realize what the fuck you’ve done,” Val said, again, his own eyes growing wet, hands taking on a subtle vibration as he clenched them into fists.  His lips followed suit, trembling as they curled down at the corners.  A tear escaped his eye and disappeared into the tight crease of those lips.  Val pressed them together, and they were ghost white when they reemerged.  “I should let you die in here.”  Another tear fell, but this time away from his face, dropping onto the black concrete floor.  “Because you’re forever dead to me.”

Gary watched Val’s tears fall and splatter onto the floor like they were moving in slow motion.  It wasn’t until the third tear splashed against the concrete that Gary realized the moisture was his own.

He blinked, and the tears came like a waterfall as he found the will to meet Val’s eyes again.

Val’s chest swelled, and his glistening gold eyes widened.  “I never want to see you again.”

Gary gasped, desperate for the courage to speak, but Val had already turned away.  His name tried to leave Gary’s lips, but only a hoarse cry came. 

After watching Val go, the guard stepped forward and unlocked the cell, sliding the doors open.

Gary met his blank gaze.

The guard lifted his eyebrows with a shake of his head, motioning halfheartedly to the long hallway that led out the front doors.

To freedom.

“You made bail,” the guard said.  “Five hundred thousand.  Posted by Valentin Romanovsky.”

Gary tried to stand, but he couldn’t move his bones.