Broken Hero Read online

  “Managed to talk the kids down at the front desk into thinking I’m doing some late-night moving,” said Stan. “Not exactly a crack team you’ve got down there, but at least you buzzed me up.”

  “No fucking kidding,” said Garrett. Then he turned to me. “Get a suitcase packed. I’ll meet you down in the lobby.”

  I went to it as they loaded up the thug and took him out of the apartment. A half hour later I was down in the back of a car driven by Kate. A little after that, Stan and the cargo were dropped off at a nondescript warehouse in Greenpoint. And soon after that, Garrett and I were at the entrance of his apartment in Williamsburg.

  It all passed by in a strange blur of activity. Sure, I was safe for the time being, but I was still processing the fact that some strange man had broken into my apartment while I’d been sleeping. If he hadn’t made that racket, or if Garrett hadn’t been there to protect me…

  I didn’t even want to think about what might’ve happened.

  “Come on,” said Garrett, leading me into the building.

  The lobby was unmanned and required several keycards and codes to enter. The doors were thick and steel, and it looked more like a bank vault than an apartment lobby.

  We made our way to an elevator, where Garrett placed his hand on a sensor, confirming his identity. The doors opened. and we made our way up.

  The mood was far, far different than the last ride we’d taken up together. The adrenaline was wearing off, and my limbs felt heavy and sluggish.

  The doors opened, and Garrett led me down a hallway to another very secure-looking door. It required more codes and scans and keys, and soon we were in.

  The apartment was sleek, with abundant black-and-white décor. It was a comfortable-looking loft, large factory windows looking out over the city.

  “They’re bulletproof,” he said, as if reading my mind. “I’ve spent quite a bit of money getting this place outfitted for my needs. There’s not a chance in hell that anyone could get in here. You’ll be safe, assuming Joey doesn’t rent out a jet and bomb the apartment from the sky.”

  I hated being away from my apartment, feeling like I was on the run. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a hell of a lot safer.

  “I need some sleep,” I said. “I feel like I’m going to pass out.”

  “Come on then,” he said. “Bedroom’s right over here.”

  He led me to the master bedroom and got me undressed and under the covers.

  “I want you calling in tomorrow,” he said. “I know you’re a workaholic, but we’ve got bigger matters to worry about right now—like keeping you alive.”

  My eyelids felt heavy. I wanted to object, to tell him that I could figure some way to not retreat from my life. But I was so freaking tired.

  And soon, I was out.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  GARRETT

  I dug my nails into the umber Italian leather chair in Joey’s office. I scanned the space, looking for something that I could use as a weapon if I had to. But as much as I might’ve wanted it to come to that, I knew this wouldn’t be as easy as just clubbing the fucker in the head and sending him into the next life.

  The grandfather clock ticked a steady beat, piano jazz tinkled from an expensive speaker set in the corner of the room. A large antique desk dominated the space, and the red velvet upholstery of the high-backed chair behind it was the color of freshly spilled blood.

  He was making me wait for a reason. I’d dealt with scum like him before, and everything was a fucking power play. He was making it clear that despite me calling this meeting and demanding to see him, I was still at his beck and call.

  I checked my watch—forty minutes had passed since his goon had led me into the office. I wouldn’t have put it past him to make me wait for another hour.

  Right as I was about to go for the bar, I heard the door open with a heavy thunk followed by a creak. Next came the sound of expensive shoes clicking on the parquet floor.

  “G-Man!” Joey called out as he came sauntering into the room like a little prince, his face all smiles. “Been wondering when we were going to talk next.”

  I wasn’t going to wait to get right to the point. I shot up from my chair and closed the distance between us. “You want to tell me why you’re sending goons into Natalie’s fucking apartment in the middle of the night?” I growled. “Sending them without telling me?”

  Joey didn’t even flinch. His eyes flicked down and noted the mere inches between us. “I know you’re not getting in my face and barking at me like a stray doggy, buddy,” he said. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were threatening me.”

  “Maybe I am,” I said, my words dripping in venom.

  “That really how you want to play this?” he asked.

  “This isn’t what we agreed,” I said. “You told me that any moves on her were going to be just for show. No fucking way I’d have agreed to this if I thought I was going to be complicit in the killing of an innocent woman.”

  Joey let out a snort, his breath hot on my face. “Speaking of innocent women,” he said. He turned his head and called out.

  “Call Ellie,” he said.

  The jazz music cut out, replaced with the sound of a phone dialing.

  “What the hell are you doing?” I asked.

  “Giving you the chance to say hello to the reason you’re in this little predicament.”

  Before I could say another word, a voice spoke through the office.

  “Hello?”

  It was Ellie.

  “Hey!” I said. “What’s up, sis?”

  “Garrett?” she asked. “Oh, is that you? What number are you calling from?”

  “Ah, my phone’s messed up so I got a temporary one while they fix it. Just wanted to check in and see how you were doing.”

  More lies. They never stopped.

  “Oh, OK,” she said. “Things are fine. Just studying like freaking crazy. I’m actually on my way to a study session right now.”

  “That mean you’re talking and driving at the same time?” I asked, trying to make it feel like a normal conversation.

  “Yeah, yeah,” she said. “Not a conversation with the big bro without you making sure I’m looking both ways before crossing the street.”

  I let out a forced, dry chuckle. Right as I opened my mouth to speak, Joey held up his phone. The screen was on a text message conversation, and he very slowly pressed the “send” button on a text he’d written.

  I was confused. Then, moments later, Ellie let out a shriek on the other line.

  “Ellie!” I shouted.

  I heard the sound of tires squealing, followed by a horn blaring.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, panic gripping my voice.

  “Hold on,” she said.

  I waited for her to speak, afraid of what she’d say.

  “Sorry,” she said. “Something weird just happened.”

  “What?” I asked.

  “I was about to drive through this intersection near my apartment and this black truck just pulled out in front of me and stopped right in the middle of the street. And then I honked at him and the driver just stared at me for a second and then left.”

  I glanced up at Joey. He nodded, a big smile on his face.

  “That’s…weird,” I said.

  “Crazy California people,” she said. “Drive like lunatics out here.”

  “OK,” I said. “I’ll let you go.”

  “Come visit soon!” she said. “Could use my big brother out here to liven things up.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  We said our goodbyes and hung up.

  Joey was seated on the edge of his desk, an impish smile on his face.

  “What the fuck did you do?” I asked.

  “Just giving you a little reminder that even though your kid sister’s halfway across the country, that doesn’t mean I can’t be very, very close.”

  I wanted to grab the nearest sharp object and ca
rve the fucker open right then and there.

  “And,” he said, “to make sure you know what’s at risk. Just in case it slips your mind.”

  I gritted my teeth and clenched my jaw hard before speaking.

  “Tell me why you sent someone to Natalie’s apartment in the middle of the night,” I said.

  He shook his head and wagged his finger. “Now, now,” he said. “That still sounds like an order to me. I know you’re used to running things your own way, G, but right now, I’m your lord and master. As far as you’re concerned, I’m your god.” He stretched out his arms on the desk and crossed his legs at the ankle, a smirk still on his face. “Now,” he said. “Try that again.”

  “Why did you send a goon to Natalie’s apartment?”

  He shrugged. “To keep you on your toes,” he said. “I trust you as a solider, G, but not necessarily as an actor. I wanted to get a real performance out of you, one that would remind Natalie how much fucking trouble she was in.”

  “She could’ve been killed,” I growled.

  He raised his eyebrows. “Nah,” he said. “The charming boy I sent isn’t much in the brains department, but he knows how to follow orders. I asked him to knock you out and give Natalie a scare—nothing more. After all, call me a big softie, but I’m not looking to kill the bitch.”

  “Doesn’t look that way from where I’m standing.”

  “Believe it or not,” he said, “I’m not a totally ruthless prick. The whole idea here is to scare her so badly that she gets this stupid idea of working with the NYPD out of her head.”

  “I’ve talked to her about it,” I said. “She’s pretty dead set on going forward.”

  He shook his head. “She’s a stubborn girl,” he said. “And principled. Pretty damn admirable actually. Too bad having a rigid sense of morality is exactly the right way to get yourself killed in my world.” He pointed to me. “You could help things along,” he said. “Maybe let her know how fucking dangerous and stupid what she’s doing is. Think about it. You manage to talk her out of testifying, and we can put all this sordid shit behind us. And your kid sister will be safe and sound.”

  “And if she doesn’t?”

  He tilted his head to the side. “If she doesn’t, then I’ll have to take more drastic measures,” he said. “And that would mean that you’d failed in your mission.”

  “My mission is to give you information.”

  “Getting me information is in the service of cutting this case of hers off at the knees. And giving me some names in the NYPD I can start scaring the shit out of. Remember?”

  “I remember.”

  “Then what can you tell me?”

  The meeting from the other day came to mind. I had names, I had information, both of which were exactly what Joey wanted. But if I gave it to him, that meant more innocent people would be under his thumb.

  But he had my sister. There was nothing else I could do but play his game until I had one over on him. Joey was a ruthless prick, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew just how important leverage was.

  “I’ve got some info,” I said. “I was at a meeting with Natalie and a few cops. One of them very high up.”

  Joey’s eyebrows rose.

  “But I want your word that you’re not going to hurt Natalie.”

  Shit. The words slipped out of my mouth.

  “That’s an interesting thing to say,” he said. “I hope you’re not cooking up a little crush on my ex, G.”

  “It’s not like that,” I said.

  But it was. And it was more than a crush.

  “Then tell me,” he said. “What is it like?”

  “She’s not meant for this shit,” I said. “Men like you and I, we don’t know any other way to live. Killing and cloak-and-dagger games—it’s what we do. But women like her, they’re not built for it. So I want her out of this crap as fast as possible.”

  “Makes some kind of sense,” he said. “Though I got to admit, it’s some surprising altruism from a merc.”

  “You might find I’m full of surprises.”

  “Hope they’re the good kind,” he said with another wicked grin. He made his way over to the bar and poured a pair of drinks. “Now,” he said, handing me a glass before taking a seat behind his desk, “let’s hear everything you know. And I hope it’s all very good shit. We’ve got lives on the line after all.”

  I took a deep breath, fighting back the urging of my conscience not to speak.

  But there was nothing else I could do. Drink in hand, I talked.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  GARRETT

  “Can we at least open the blinds?” asked Natalie as she paced back and forth in my apartment.

  “No,” I said, my voice stern. “Not unless you want to risk Joey’s pricks taking potshots at you through the window.

  Natalie flashed me a look that was both impatience and distress.

  “I’m going freaking crazy,” she said. “It’s been four days since you brought me here, and I haven’t been out of the apartment once.”

  “It’s for the best, and you know it,” I said. “You’re paying me to keep you safe, and this is the best way to do it.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” she said. “I know. But damn, I’ve gone through all the work I had backlogged, but without going to the office, I’m out of stuff to do. I’ve been watching Netflix and drinking wine like a normal person.”

  I allowed myself a grin. “Not a fan of living like the rest of us?”

  She smirked. “Not sure I’d include you in the ranks of the normies,” she said. “Not too many bodyguards taking the shuttle and working nine-to-fives like the masses.”

  “Good point,” I said. “Anyway, I want keep you here for at least a week. After then maybe we can talk about what we can do next.”

  She shook her head. “Damn,” she said.

  I plopped onto my leather couch and spread out my arms over the back. “What,” I asked, “you don’t like my place?”

  “It’s a monument to bachelor minimalism,” she said. “All black and white, not a single whiff of anything feminine.”

  “You want me to put up one of those calendars with the babies posing like angels?”

  She chuckled.

  “Who knows? Might be just the thing to tie the place together.”

  My phone buzzed and I took it out. It was a text from Stan confirming our meeting.

  “I’m about to head out,” I said. “Stan’s ready to meet and go over some intel.”

  “And leave me here all by myself?” she asked, her tone slightly sardonic. “What if I get lonely?”

  “Don’t worry,” I said, matching her snark. “I’ll only be gone for a half hour or so.”

  “Seriously though,” she said. “It’s cool with me being by myself?”

  “Trust me,” I said. “This place is like a vault. No one’s getting in unless you let them.”

  She nodded.

  “OK,” she said. “But I’m signing you up for Hulu or something while you're gone. I’ve watched half of Netflix already and your taste in DVDs leaves a little to be desired.”

  “What,” I asked, “no appreciation for the classics?”

  She picked up the stack of movies from the coffee table.

  “I’d hardly call anything that Steven Seagal’s been in a ‘classic,’” she said.

  “You’ve got Robocop and Predator in that pile,” I said. “That’s enough cinematic perfection between those two movies to last you a lifetime.”

  “No thanks,” she said. “As soon as the explosions start, that’s when I get bored.”

  “Pearls before swine,” I said with a grin.

  “Don’t make me throw one of these pillows at you,” she said.

  “You do,” I fired back, “and I might have to come over there and give you a spanking.”

  “Is that a promise or a threat?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “Try me and you’ll see.”

  The look on her face made it
clear that she was taking my offer under serious consideration. It was pretty damn tempting—and what better way to pass the time if the two of us were going to be holed up away from the outside world?

  “OK,” I said. “As strong of a case as you’re making, I need to get going.”

  “Boo,” she said with a playful smile.

  I threw on my leather jacket and, with one last wink, I was off.

  My mood darkened as soon as I was out of the apartment. There wasn’t going to be anything fun or frivolous about my meeting with Stan, to put it mildly.

  In fact, I knew that what I was going to bring up might very well strain things beyond repair between the two of us.

  I was soon on the back of my bike and tearing through the streets of Brooklyn. I wanted to gun the engine, to open up the bike and zip down the busy lanes of the street so fast that I didn’t have time to think about anything else but keeping the bike upright.

  It wasn’t an option, however. After the drive to Bushwick, I was in front of the dive bar where Stan and I had agreed to meet. I killed the engine, propped the bike up on its kickstand, and headed in.

  The place was a dive bar, all right, and not the overpriced, hipster type I’d find in my part of town. A handful of rough-looking, blue-collar men were seated here and there, and a surly-faced man with a white undershirt stretched over a big beer belly and arms covered in tattoos stood behind the bar.

  Neon lights advertising cheap beer cast the space in strange washes of purple and red. A pair of TVs that had seen better days played the Yankees game for the patrons who stared at the screens with empty eyes, their hands wrapped around pints of light yellow beer.

  I nodded to the bartender as I entered the place. After a quick look around, I spotted Stan at the corner seat of the bar. We made quick eyes of acknowledgement before I sidled into the seat next to him.

  “Fucking bullshit,” he said as I sat down.

  I raised an eyebrow, wondering which of the many parts of our current situation this statement referred to.

  “Having issues?” I asked.