Act of Valor Page 8

  Her mother’s old cookbooks were yellowed and worn—obsolete, since there were millions of recipes online—but some things were better off old-school style. Violet put a sticky note on the page in the book that had belonged to her grandmother, with the handwritten, “Scrumptious!” note scrawled next to the ingredients. If it was scrumptious enough for Grandma, it would be good enough for Mom, and maybe she could even get Zach to eat some. She closed the book as she heard Latte clamoring for attention from his pen.

  Latte seemed to operate at full speed as soon as his eyes popped open. Even after three different ball-chasing sessions and a full-body grooming, he was alert as ever. Lying on his back in his gated area of the kitchen, he was happily chewing on his rubber bone, having upended his water since she last checked. He righted himself and leaped at the gate when he spotted her, tail zinging as if he hadn’t played with her in days instead of minutes.

  “You’re a wild one,” she said, lifting the roly-poly puppy over the gate. “I don’t know how Ellie and Carter keep up with your two siblings.” His pink tongue lapped her everywhere he could reach, and her problems melted away, if just for a moment. Was it humanly possible to sustain negative feelings while holding a warm puppy? She did not think so. Cuddling him and addressing him in outrageous baby talk that she’d never indulge in if others were present, she led the wriggling armful of joy outside to do his business again. Zach had admonished her in that annoying cop way of his that there was to be no taking the dog for walks in their quiet neighborhood unless he was present. Instead, she settled for playing a comical game of fetch with Latte, who would pounce on the ball eagerly, but could not be persuaded to return it to her. So far the count was five balls stored up in a pile across the yard and one left in the toy basket ready to throw.

  “You’re just not getting this fetch thing down, are you, Latte?”

  “If only we could get the bad guys to carry around tennis balls,” a voice said. “The dogs would catch them in no time.”

  She whirled around to find Zach leaning against the wall of the porch, arms folded, one booted ankle crossed over the other. Eddie wagged his tail and yipped at Latte. The sun lit Zach’s eyes to a vivid cobalt. He was not in uniform, but his badge was clipped to his belt. Long, lean, but not entirely relaxed.

  Her stomach fluttered, and she was glad she’d taken the time to shower that morning and pull her hair back into a neat ponytail. “I didn’t hear you knock.”

  “That’s ’cause I didn’t. Your mother said I can let myself in the backyard anytime to let Eddie and Latte have a playdate if he isn’t already booked with his puppy brothers and sisters.”

  “That’s because she doesn’t want you in the house. You break too many things.”

  “Nope, it’s because your mother adores me, and you know it.”

  She did, too. Barbara Griffin loved the Jameson boys as if they were her own sons. In a way, they were, since they had spent their formative years with Violet’s brother, Bobby. The hallway was lined with pictures of the six of them, Jordan, Noah, Zach, Carter, Bobby and Violet, in various stages of growing up, only Bobby’s image had disappeared from the family photos too early. What would he have been like as an adult? she wondered. Would he be a cop, too? Married? A father? Again, the fuzziness of her memories of Bobby bothered her. It was as if he was fading from the pages of her mind like old photos exposed to sunlight.

  Shake off those thoughts, she told herself firmly, wishing Zach did not look quite so appealing, sunlit and smiling. “You look...edgy,” she said.

  “Who, me? Nah.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “You can fool other people, but not me. You’re edgy. Why?”

  He shrugged, releasing Eddie to play with Latte. “We arrested Victor Jones, and I was hoping he’d roll over on his boss.”

  “But he didn’t?”

  “Not so far.” Zach cleared his throat. “Threat’s still out there.”

  She didn’t answer.

  “I know a guy,” he said over the canine greetings. “He works at JFK and he...”

  “No.” There was no way she was going to transfer her job to another airport.

  “But it would be...”

  “Uh-uh, and we’re not having this conversation again.” She marched into the kitchen and poured a cup of coffee.

  “Vi, why won’t you see reason?”

  “Because I’m not going to let anyone run me out of my job. I like it and I’m good at it.”

  “Your boss is likely involved with drug dealers, or he’s running an operation himself.”

  “I just can’t make myself believe it. I know he must have reasons for doing what he did, good ones.”

  “That’s because you’re loyal and stubborn and it’s given you a blind spot.”

  She dashed milk in the coffee, splashing some over the rim. “Fine, I’ll own that, but I’m not judging Bill guilty until I have proof, and if I’m working at LaGuardia I can be your eyes and ears. We can clear the whole thing up for good.”

  “That is a terrible idea, so get that out of your head right now. Bill’s dealing with bad people like Xavier Beck.”

  She repressed a shiver. “I learned a lesson last night. It was stupid of me to leave the apartment, but now I’m going to keep my eyes open and not take any chances. I’ll be perfectly fine in a public airport.”

  “What if things go bad? Beck’s tough.”

  She recalled her fear with Beck in the dank basement. She thrust her chin up, anyway. “I’m tough.”

  “He’s tougher.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “I’m hardly ever wrong.”

  She shoved the mug of coffee at him. “You say that because you are loyal and stubborn and it’s given you a blind spot about me.”

  He shook his head and, to her surprise, actually chuckled.

  “Why the laugh when I just told you off?”

  “You’re the only person I know who would shoot me down thoroughly with my own words and make coffee for me at the same time.”

  She could not stop her own smile. “I don’t do that for everyone, you know. Consider yourself a blessed man.”

  She’d aimed for flippant, but the look he gave her was suddenly tender and thoughtful, exasperation and bemusement that resolved into a shining certainty. “I do,” he said quietly. “I’m not sure how I can say that with the present circumstances of my life, but you’re right. I’m blessed, where you’re concerned, even though Jordy always said we fight like an old married couple.”

  Where you’re concerned, as if she was something precious and rare that outshone the darkness cloaking him. The notion warmed her inside and eased warmth into her cheeks. Lord, help me give him what he needs to push through the pain, to find his way back to You.

  “So what do you say, Vi? Will you consider the JFK thing? Please? For me?” It was not the little-boy-lost manner he sometimes employed to get her to agree. Sincerity teased tenderness into his tone. Oh, how tempting it was to give in, when she knew her assent would ease his strain. Give in. Let him take care of you. But then what would be next? Moving back in permanently with her parents? Starting over as a newbie when she’d worked hard for her seniority at LaGuardia? Worst of all, handing her independence to a man who did not love her in the way she craved? “I’m still not going to quit my job,” she said. “Tomorrow I’ll be back to work.”

  He exhaled deeply. “Yeah, I figured that’s what you’d say.” He drank from the mug and sighed. “You make good coffee, Vi, the best I’ve ever tasted.”

  “I know. It’s in my blood. Griffins are born with coffee in their veins.”

  He grinned. “Cops, too.”

  “Otto used to say the same thing.”

  He looked down for a moment. “Ah, well, sorry I brought up bad memories.”

  “They aren’t bad. Otto was a good guy, just not the o
ne for me. The whole thing taught me that I need to take care of myself.”

  Zach looked at her full-on. “Violet, Otto was insane to let you go.”

  She offered a casual shrug, though the words thrilled her. Keep your head, Vi. You didn’t feel the right things for Otto. Like the things you feel for Zach? Pouring herself a cup of coffee to give herself something to do, she clinked mugs with his.

  Zach grinned. “You know what I found in an old box when we were packing up Jordy’s stuff?”

  “What?”

  “A picture of that infamous Fourth of July.”

  She knew exactly the one. “Oh, boy. I’d forgotten about that.”

  “Not me. That was the best ambush in Jameson family history.” His eyes twinkled with mischief. “And you were the perfect accomplice.”

  “I still feel guilty about it.”

  “No way. My brothers had it coming. They swiped the keys to my car and moved it so I thought it was stolen, remember? I ran around like an idiot for hours until they returned it just before the cops arrived, which made me look like an even bigger dummy. Oh, they had it coming and you were my wingman.”

  She sighed. “Yeah. I lured them all out into the backyard with the promise of chocolate chip cookies and you unleashed, what, like two dozen water balloons?”

  “Oh, three dozen at least, and because I was standing on the roof at the time, they couldn’t escape. It was perfect. I laughed so hard I almost slid off. That was a classic moment that I’ll never forget.”

  “I don’t know how I let you talk me into that.”

  “Aww—” he tugged at her sleeve “—it’s because I’m irresistible and you can’t say no to me, right?”

  He had no idea how close he was to the truth.

  Assorted barks and yips drew them to the back door, where they stood, sipping coffee and watching Eddie and Latte race merry circles around each other. It was a moment of peace to be enjoyed shoulder to shoulder. Precious seconds with a precious man. For just a fraction of a minute, she imagined what it would be like if Zach was hers, and she his...like the married couple Jordy suggested, sharing a space, sharing a life, their picture on the wall with all the others.

  No good thinking that. Friends, remember?

  When they finished, she took his coffee cup and rinsed it.

  “I can do that,” he said.

  “I’m faster. I’ve got to secure Latte and scoot to the diner. Mom and Dad need me for the lunch rush. Nice weather will bring people out in droves.”

  “I’ll drive you.”

  “Okay, I’ll let you.”

  He twirled her ponytail, his fingers grazing the back of her neck, teasing prickles across her skin. “Always the tough lady.”

  Not always, she thought, as she considered that the next day she’d be walking back into the lion’s den.

  But his touch, warm and reassuring, pushed the danger and every other thought to the back of her mind.

  Friends, remember?

  Scooping up the pup, she escaped upstairs.

  * * *

  “Victor Jones made bail before I finished my lunch.”

  Noah’s words grated in Zach’s gut the next afternoon as he and Eddie drove the New York streets.

  Victor had been bailed out by a relative without confirming or denying that he’d been working for Bill Oscar. Now Violet was at work, against all common sense and his strongest efforts at persuasion, and he was still not a bit closer to bringing down her boss. At least he’d managed to get Victor’s last known address in Queens, an illegal basement apartment on a busy intersection in Corona. Armed with a search warrant, he forced the landlord to let him into the space, which was not zoned for residential use. He’d refer that one to the housing bureau later.

  Zach eased his way into the basement and flipped on the light. A futon with rumpled sheets occupied the darkest corner. A card table served as a kitchen counter, cluttered with empty Chinese-take-out containers crusted with dried noodles, a hot plate and a coffee machine, a phone-charger cord, a strip overloaded with plugs. Such was the problem with illegal apartments. One exit in case of fire, and way too many safety violations. The space also lacked appropriate ventilation, but with affordable housing so hard to come by in Queens, the temptation to rent out unsafe rooms was hard to resist. Eddie whined.

  The landlord stood by the door, arms crossed defiantly. Gavin had arrived to assist, and he kept a careful eye on the man. So did Tommy, Gavin’s springer spaniel, who was sitting obediently at his knee, tracking every movement.

  “You have no right to come in here,” the landlord snapped.

  “The search warrant and the badge say otherwise,” Zach said.

  “My tenant has done nothing.”

  Zach rounded on him. “Your tenant is a drug dealer and if I find anything illegal in this basement you call an apartment, I’m going to find him and he’ll go to prison. Would you like to join him there for interfering with an investigation? You already have enough problems, I’m thinking.”

  The landlord took a step forward, but Gavin raised a warning finger. “You’re gonna stay out of this or I will cuff you right now, you got me?”

  The landlord shot him a surly glare and retreated. Zach beamed Gavin a grateful look. “Now, where were we, Eddie?”

  But Eddie was turning in agitated circles, his ears flapping.

  “What do you smell?” He unclipped the dog. “Ready to work? Find the drugs, boy.”

  Eddie pranced into action, nosing along one wall, which was inexpertly covered with cheap wood paneling. Eddie paced back and forth along the paneling until he honed in on one particular spot. Zach’s pulse thumped as Eddie’s nose quivered, deciphering a thousand smells that Zach was not even aware of. Eddie finally sat and looked at him.

  Gavin watched. “He got something?”

  “I believe he does.” Zach knelt next to him and examined the wood, rapping his knuckles every few inches. The sound echoed hollowly at the point where Eddie was most interested. Sliding on gloves, he edged a penknife in the notch between the sheets of paneling. Almost invisible to the eye, he found a tiny indentation where the wood had been filed away. Zach’s gut tightened in anticipation. “Well, what do we have here?”

  Using his knife as a lever, he popped the paneling loose. It came away easily. Eddie barked. Zach peered into the space where the drywall had been cut away. A stack of plastic-wrapped bricks—cocaine, no doubt—and a half dozen guns were jammed in the small alcove.

  Gavin looked over his shoulder and whistled. “Dog’s got a million-dollar nose, that’s for sure.”

  “Yeah, he does. Good boy, Eddie. That’s my baby,” he said, doling out treats to the dog. “You did it again.” The street value of the drugs was probably somewhere in the neighborhood of a half a million dollars.

  Gavin radioed their findings and began taking photos. “So Victor is clearly moving product for someone,” he said in between shots. “Why would he risk getting popped at the bagel store?”

  Zach’s thoughts spun as he turned the situation over in his mind. “He needs money. They’ve had to slow down their operation since Violet pointed out Beck at the airport. I think Victor was desperate for cash and kept a little to sell on the street for his own profit until he has the all-clear to start moving it again. His boss wouldn’t like it, so he’s kept his borrowing small.”

  “This supply is a lot to walk away from. Victor must intend to come back here at some point. He wouldn’t abandon it, or his boss would make him pay.”

  Make him pay...

  Just like he intended to do with Violet?

  With Victor cut loose from jail and their stash discovered, would his boss order him to make another threat on Violet? Their need to keep the product moving must be growing.

  He reached for his phone and left Gavin and another newly arrived officer to
secure the scene and wait for the evidence to be processed. Scrambling back to his vehicle, he phoned Violet.

  “Answer, answer,” he said. He had to tell her that another one of the frequent fliers was involved in heavy-duty crime, probably organized by her boss. One ring, two. It went to voice mail.

  He phoned Griffin’s.

  Barbara answered, sounding harried.

  “I need to talk to Violet. Is she there?”

  “No, Zach. Bill asked her to come in for an early shift today, so she left here hours ago for the airport.”

  His lungs struggled to do their job.

  “She had a cop escort her, and she texted me that she’d arrived safely. Is there a problem?”

  He forced a cheerful tone. “No, ma’am. I just...need to talk to her.”

  Her voice dropped low. “Zach, we’re counting on you to take care of our daughter.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I will do that. I promise.”

  Barbara said goodbye and hung up, though she did not sound completely convinced.

  He gunned the engine on the Tahoe and pushed out into traffic, goosing the gas and flipping on the siren.

  Bill couldn’t make a move to hurt Violet in the airport in front of dozens of witnesses. She was probably safe...as long as Zach could get there in time.

  TEN

  Violet was happy to steep herself in the madness of her ticket counter duties again. Puppy care was fun but exhausting and though her father complained about her decision, she’d kissed him and left him muttering over his vat of vegetable beef soup. As usual, her mother did not give voice to her worry, but it was evident in the tensing of her shoulders.

  I’ve got to live my life, she wanted to say, to take care of myself. Killers and her burgeoning feelings for Zach aside, she really was okay on her own, and that was the way she would keep it, no matter who tried to strip it away from her.