Broken Hero Read online

  He brought the glass down to his shirt and gave it a quick polish before checking it by holding it up to the light again.

  “What we got today?” he asked, stepping over to the table.

  “Nothing much to report so far, just trying to get in good with—”

  “Nah, nah,” he said. “I’m not talking about the girl. I mean what’s on the table.”

  I flicked my eyes over to the bottle and took in the sight of the label. It was something French, something I’d never had before. I wasn’t much of a wine drinker, truth be told. But Joey was, and he always wanted me to drink with him.

  “Chateau Re—re-kwin?” I asked, trying to work my mouth around the French words. “It’s a cabernet.”

  “Ah!” said Joey, evidently happy to hear the name. “Chateau Requin. You know what that means, right?”

  “Not a clue.”

  “That means ‘shark’ in French. So it’s the ‘House of the Shark’ or something like that. Weird fucking name for a wine place if you ask me.”

  I didn’t really have an opinion on the matter. All I wanted was to give Joey the information, get the fuck out of here, and try to pretend that I wasn’t in the process of betraying a client.

  Joey slipped a wine key out of his pocket and flicked the little knife at the end open. Once the wrapper was peeled off, he pulled out the corkscrew and jammed it in. It was clear by the way he worked the tool that cutting and stabbing were things he was very, very well practiced in.

  “I was thinking something red earlier,” he said, twisting the corkscrew. “Sounded refreshing. Especially since we’ve finally got some sun in the city after all that fucking rain and gloom.”

  I said nothing, my hands on my legs under the table.

  Joey stopped mid-screw, his eyes landing on my waist.

  “Now, Garrett,” he said. “How many times do I have to tell you about where I like your hands?”

  I gritted my teeth and took my hands off my legs and set them palm-down on the table.

  “Very good,” he said, finishing his twisting. “Go ahead and remind me how I like them.”

  He flashed me a grin.

  “Where you can see them,” I said.

  I wanted him to be right where he could see them, all right. Maybe nice and close and wrapped around his neck.

  “That’s right,” he said. “You know, like with the cops. Except, ha, I’m about as far from a fucking cop as you can get.”

  “No kidding,” I said.

  He pulled the cork out with a slow, fluid motion before twisting it off and setting it on the table.

  “OK!” he said, clasping his hands together with a fleshy crack that sounded through the empty restaurant. “Let’s take this shit for a spin.”

  He poured both of us two small portions.

  “Not going to smell the cork?” I asked.

  He scoffed.

  “What, do I look like some tourist from Iowa ordering some Paul Masson at the Times Square Olive Garden trying to look like I know what the fuck I’m doing?” he asked. “No point in smelling the fucking cork—that marks you as a wine rookie, in fact.” He took the wine glass by the stem and held it up to the light. “No, no,” he said. “You learn all you need to know by just going with your senses. The way it looks in the light, how it smells, how it swirls in the glass. And, of course, how it tastes.”

  He squinted his eyes as he held the glass up, swirling it gently. As he did, my eyes drifted down to the wine key. I wondered if I’d have the speed and strength it’d take to snatch that thing off the table, flick it open, and jam that tiny little knife into his jugular.

  “Go ahead,” he said. “Give it a look.”

  I took the glass by the rounded part.

  “Ah-ah,” he said. “Hold it proper—by the stem.”

  “I don’t think that’s going to do anything to the taste,” I said.

  “Nah, but it gets grubby fucking fingerprints all over the glass. Looks like shit.”

  I did as he asked, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible.

  “See that rich, ruby-red color?” he asked. “That’s a good sign. No light’s getting through that. Lets you know that you’re about to have some shit that’s gonna coat your tongue like a melted cough drop. But in a very, very good way.”

  He brought his glass in front of his nose, and I followed suit.

  “Now, give it a smell.”

  I leaned in and sniffed. Joey let out a loud bark of a laugh.

  “You sniffed that like you’re checking your fucking milk to see if it’s turned, my man.”

  “There’s a right way to sniff?”

  “There’s a right way to do everything,” he said with a flash of his eyes. “Sniff slowly, like you’re smelling a flower, or a peach pie right out of the oven, or some gorgeous girl’s hair as she’s lying with her head on your chest after you’ve just fucked her brains out.”

  His words reminded of what I’d gotten up to with Natalie the other night. Made me wonder how long Joey’d take torturing the life out of me if he found out that I’d slept with his ex. Her hair did smell pretty fucking nice, now that I thought about it.

  He sniffed the wine slowly and deliberately. I did the same.

  “What’s that smell like to you?” he asked.

  “Smells like grapes,” I said. “Red grapes.”

  Another bark of a laugh burst from his mouth. “Of course it does,” he said. “That’s what it’s fucking made out of.” He sniffed it again. “Nah, there’s more to it than that. I smell coffee, freshly ground in the morning after a good fucking night’s rest. French roast. Then there’s chocolate. And the good kind of chocolate—the kind you get for ten bucks a bar from some artisan joint in Williamsburg, not that Hershey’s shit for a buck at the bodega.”

  “I’ll have to take your word for it,” I said.

  He flicked up his eyebrows. “Now’s the fun part.” He raised his glass and took a small sip. I did the same, swallowing right away. He let the wine linger in his mouth for a long while, closing his eyes as he savored it. The fucker even swished it around his mouth like Listerine.

  And my eyes went right back to the corkscrew. Before I could get any big ideas, however, he brought the wine down in a slow swallow.

  “Man, that’s some good shit,” he said. “There’s cocoa all right. Little bit of coffee on the nose, like I was thinking. Thick texture, lingers on the palate. And notice how it’s still on your tongue long after you swallow? Good cab will do that.”

  He clasped his hands loudly together again.

  “I think it’s a fucking keeper,” he said. “What about you?”

  “Tastes like grapes.”

  He narrowed his eyes in a way that managed to be both playful and menacing at the same time. “Garrett, buddy, after all the wine we’ve shared together, I would’ve hoped you’d have developed a more, ah, extensive vocabulary about the subject. You got nothing? No ‘nutty,’ no ‘creamy,’ nothing? Hell, I’d be happy if you started talking about fucking mouthfeel.”

  “I’m a whiskey man,” I said.

  Joey waved his hand through the air dismissively. “Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Once a fucking SEAL, always a fucking SEAL. You know, for a team that travels all around the fucking planet you guys sure manage to find a way to seem, I don’t know, really fucking parochial. Whatever.”

  He poured us both full glasses, raising his.

  “What’re we toasting to, buddy?” he asked.

  “Whatever gets me out of this place the fastest,” I said.

  “Now, now,” he said, shaking his head. “Always in such a fucking rush. A good wine is one of the few treats we get in this little world of ours. It’s important to savor it when you’re lucky enough to have it.”

  “Not exactly in a celebratory mood,” I said.

  “Come on,” he said. “Don’t be such a wet blanket.” A look of realization flashed on his face. “I know—to the ongoing success of our professional rela
tionship.”

  “Works for me,” I said.

  We tapped glasses and took our sips. I had to admit, it was pretty good wine. But not good enough to make me not want to smash the glass on the edge of the table and jam the jagged stem into his neck.

  “So,” he said. “Why don’t you tell me how my fucking cunt of an ex-girlfriend is doing?”

  I bristled at Natalie being talked about in that way. My protective instinct was getting the better of me.

  “That necessary?” I asked.

  “Such a white fucking knight,” said Joey. “Fine, fine. How’s my extraordinarily disagreeable former paramour doing?”

  “No go,” I said. “You want updates, I need to hear about my sister first.”

  Joey regarded me with a hard expression, as if trying to determine exactly how OK he was with me talking to him this way. Finally, his expression eased. “Your cute little coed sister?” he asked.

  I narrowed my eyes. “Watch it,” I said. “Step very, very carefully when you talk about her.”

  “I don’t think I need to remind you that you’re not exactly in a position to make demands of me, buddy,” he said, his tone taking on a hard edge. “But fine. I won’t wax poetic about your extremely charming and cute little sister.”

  “Tell me.”

  He shrugged. “What’s to tell?” he asked. “We’re not holding her fucking hostage. Yet, that is. Right now she’s studying for exams or cramming over expensive coffee drinks or getting drunk off wine coolers or whatever the fuck it is that college girls do these days. And if you play your cards right, that’s all she’ll be doing. You do what I ask and she’ll never be any the fucking wiser that I’ve got a pair of goons ready to throw her into the back of a black-windowed van at a moment’s notice.”

  My heart rate picked up. I wanted to kill this fucker so badly I could taste it as surely as I could taste the wine.

  “Now,” said Joey. “Tell me about Natalie. Let’s start with her relationship with the NYPD. What do you know about that?”

  “Just what you’ve told me,” I said. “She’s still planning on working with them to help make a case against you.”

  “Fucking hell,” he said. “I knew she’s doing it, but man, the betrayal! But that’s women for you, huh? One minute they’re rubbing your shoulders after a hard day’s work and the next they’re jamming a penknife into the tires of your Maserati. Not that Natalie ever did anything that crazy. No, she’s the scary kind of vengeful chick—the calculating, smart-as-fuck kind.”

  “I’m still trying to gain her trust,” I said.

  “She signed you, right?”

  I nodded. “She seemed like she was on the fence, but after I took down those thugs you sent, she was ready to hire me.”

  A broad grin formed on his face.

  “I knew that would do it,” he said, clearly proud with himself. “I’ve held off on doing anything that direct, but sometimes they’ve got to see exactly what kind of danger they’re in, right?”

  He shook his head.

  “Those guys, though,” he said. “You really worked them the fuck over.”

  Damn right I did. They weren’t the one I wanted to lay into with my fists—that was the guy across from me—but they were as close as I was going to get for the time being.

  “Don’t be surprised if neither of them invite you to their birthday parties anytime soon, if you know what I mean. Didn’t think it was possible for those two to get any uglier, but you managed it.”

  I kept my eyes on him as he spoke.

  “Anyway, buddy,” he said. “That’s good, that’s what I wanted to hear. Now that you’ve got her as a client, it’s only a matter of time before she starts really trusting you with her life. And when she trusts you with her life, that means she’ll trust you with information.” He jabbed his chest with his thumb. “And information is exactly what I want.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as the names of the NYPD that she’s working with. You’ll be meeting with them soon enough, and if I can get their names, that means I can start applying pressure to them. Maybe if I scare the fuck out of enough of these cops, the case will turn radioactive.”

  I didn’t like the idea of bringing more people under Joey’s eye, but there was nothing I could do. I needed to keep my sister safe.

  He took a quick swig of his wine. “And what about the rest of your crew?” he asked. “They still good to go?”

  “Stan’s still on board,” I said. “Very on board.”

  “Yeah he is,” said Joey. “I still remember the look on his face when I told him how much I’d be paying him off. Maybe I ought to get his résumé—that fucker might be in the wrong line of work.”

  “And the rest of the team still thinks it’s a normal op.”

  Joey teasingly wagged his finger. “You know I don’t like that, buddy. You know I don’t like to hear that.”

  “They’ll be fine,” I said. “The rest of the crew handles long-distance work. No need for any of them to know about what’s really going on.”

  “Fine,” he said. “I’ll take your word for it. But I’ll say right now that if one of them finds out what’s going on and gets cold feet about the whole thing, starts getting a little inflammation of the moral gland, you’re not going to like what I end up doing with them.”

  “They won’t,” I said. “I know how to manage my team.”

  “I’m sure you do, G,” he said with another big grin.

  I took the glass of wine into my hand and drained the rest of it in a single sip.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” said Joey. “That was a very expensive, very delicious glass of wine you just killed like it was a fucking Coke Zero. You’re supposed to savor it, you know.”

  “If it’s all the same, I want to get back to work.”

  “I bet you do, G,” he said. He stood up and gestured for me to do the same. He began walking toward the entrance, clapping his hand on my back hard enough to let me know the subtext. “Get back to it, buddy. And just know that I’ve got my eye on you. And I’m always watching very, very closely.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  GARRETT

  The few days passed quietly, just like I knew they would. As much as I’d been hammering home to Natalie the idea there was danger lurking around every corner, or in every window across from her apartment, I knew that Joey wouldn’t make a move without telling me first.

  That meant I only had my conscience to do battle with. That, and the fear of what Joey and his goons would do to Ellie if I failed in my mission.

  More and more, however, my protective instincts had begun to spread out and include Natalie. I was supposed to keep my professional distance from her, but she was making it hard.

  In more ways than one.

  The elevator rose up to her floor, and soon the two of us were in her apartment. The sun was setting over the city, the sky outside of her window filled with brilliant creams and oranges, wispy white clouds curling over the vibrant colors.

  “Shit,” she said, taking off her heels and stretching out her toes. “Rough day.”

  “I’ll have to take your word for it,” I said.

  We’d spent the day at her office, just like we’d been doing during the rest of her workweek. She’d wanted to keep things as close to her routine as possible, which meant long days at her firm.

  “That’s right,” she said with a half-grin. “Keep forgetting I’m spending time with a trained killer. A rough day for you probably involves almost getting shot.”

  She didn’t know how right she was.

  “Something like that,” I said, stepping over to the tall windows and looking out over the city, making a show of looking for snipers that I knew weren’t there.

  “You OK?” she asked.

  “Huh?” I said, turning around slowly. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, are you OK?” she said, stepping over to her bar and preparing a cocktail. “You’ve been a little out of it all day.”r />
  She didn’t know that each moment I spent with her, knowing what I knew, was a total betrayal of everything I stood for. She didn’t know that nearly every word out of my mouth was a lie. And she didn’t know that around lunch I’d gotten an email from an encrypted address, a few pictures taken from a distance of Ellie along with the simple message: “just making sure your head’s in the game ;).”

  And she didn’t know that I was spending what little energy I had left trying to keep my eyes off how damn good she looked in her work outfits. Or anything else she wore, for that matter.

  “I’m fine,” I said. “Most of my head’s in the job. Tends not to leave much mental space for small talk.”

  “Ah,” she said as she dropped a few cubes of ice in her vodka. “Guess I’ve gotten used to you being around. And I’m doing my best to forget that your job is to keep me alive.”

  “I don’t forget,” I said. “That’s what you’re paying me for, after all.”

  “Don’t need to tell me twice about that,” she said with another sexy smirk. “I’m trying not to wince every time I look at my bank account. But I’m paying for the best.”

  I responded with a quick nod, not wanting to spin out more lies if I could help it.

  “Thanks, by the way,” she said. “I know it’s your job, but you’re putting your life on the line for me. It means a lot.”

  “You’re welcome,” I said.

  Even that little pleasantry was a lie. If she knew what was really going on, her tune would change pretty damn quickly. Natalie couldn’t have been more than a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet, but something told me that she’d be a force to reckon with if she was mad.

  And if she knew, she’d be mad. Only “mad,” if I was lucky.

  “OK,” she said. “You’re extra stiff today. Let me make you a drink.”

  Some booze sounded so good it almost made me want to shed a tear. I hadn’t had anything to drink since the wine during my meeting with Joey, and that wasn’t exactly an opportunity for relaxing.