OK, I don't know why all of the last chapter's reviews didn't post to this story, but they came through to my email and I did receive and read them all. And they made me so happy! You guys are the nicest readers ever! And to the guest reviewer who apparently has a vigilante streak and is planning Johnny's demise, I would never want to mess with you, lol. But you did give me some GREAT ideas to think about for Johnny and various Reagans or Carlos down the road. :)
Chapter 10
Frank Reagan pushed away the stack of reports from the commanders of every precinct and leaned back in his leather chair. The chair squeaked in the quiet of his home office. He looked at the picture on the corner of his desk. Him, Mary, and all five of their kids. He picked it up.
The pain wasn't as raw as it was the first year he had lost Mary. But losing Joe had opened up that hurt again and he knew he was going to carry the weight of that loss the rest of his life. Danny was scowling at the camera, Erin mid-sentence— probably telling Danny to smile— teenage Joe giving Jamie bunny ears, and an infant Katie held in Mary's arms. Katie, their late in life surprise who had been nothing but an easy child from the day she was born. Smiling and agreeable, she had three older brothers wrapped around her finger and a doting older sister.
A heavy sigh escaped at the thought of Katie. Four years and no word. He didn't know if he was a fool for holding out hope his daughter was still alive. Every avenue had led to a dead end. She had disappeared without a trace. No warning that anything was wrong, no sign of her after.
"Dad?" Erin's voice interrupted his introspection.
Frank looked up, setting the picture aside and schooling his face into neutral.
"I didn't know you were stopping by tonight. Is Nicky with you?"
"She's in the kitchen with Pop." Erin hesitated, rubbing the palms of her hands together.
Frank waited, allowing her time to gather her thoughts. When Erin didn't look like she was going to speak, he raised his eyebrows. "Well, let's have it. You didn't come by on a work night just to shoot the breeze."
Erin heaved out a sigh. "I'm worried about Jaime," she said.
"Jaime? Is there something I missed? He and Eddie seemed fine on Sunday."
"No they didn't," Erin said, finally taking a seat. Her silk blouse whispered against the leather back of the chair.
"A little on edge," Frank amended. "I'll give you that. But they had just caught a nasty call. And it was Renzulli's kid."
"Danny thinks it's more than that."
"Does he now?" Frank knew his oldest was good at reading people, but he also knew he was naturally suspicious. It made him a good detective—a great detective if he could keep his temper in check—and a temperamental family member. "Have you talked to Jaime about this?"
"Danny asked me to." Erin leaned forward. "I don't think Danny's wrong."
"Did you tell Danny that?" Frank fingered the pen near him, rolling it absently across the desk under his fingers.
Erin finally let out the hint of a smile. "Of course not. His ego doesn't need any help. And Jaime doesn't need Danny trying to figure out what's going on." She sobered. "But I'm worried about Jaime. He's keeping something from us and it's eating away at him."
"Did he want to talk about it with you?"
Erin pressed her lips together before she admitted, "No."
Frank nodded and set his pen in the cup where it belonged. He drummed his fingers on his desk, weighing the information Erin had given him, Danny's involvement, and the likelihood that it was something serious. Decision made, he rested both hands on his desk. "Well then, I don't think there's anything any of us should be doing until Jaime lets us know he wants to talk."
Erin frowned. "Danny said he was going to talk to Jaime himself. I don't know if he did, he and Jaime won't answer my calls now."
Frank felt the frown that pulled at his face. "Then we let the two of them deal with it, and if they haven't by Sunday dinner, we deal with them ourselves."
"That sounds like a fun Sunday meal," Erin muttered. "Pour me a drink."
With a low chuckle, Frank reached into his bottom desk drawer to pull out a bottle of bourbon.
#
Kate led Carlos through the back room. There were crates of guns piled against the back wall. She knew she should look back at Carlos and cut her eyes to the crates, let him get an idea of the inventory on hand, but she couldn't. She couldn't turn around, couldn't look at him. Joe and Carlos never should have stood up to Hux when he hit her. That's what set the whole knife and gun fight off and what got Hux killed. That's what gave Johnny free reign over the Dimeboys.
The stairs creaked underfoot as she made her way upstairs. She pushed open the door and went into the unused apartment, boxes and supplies for the bar downstairs tossed around.
As soon as he closed and locked the door behind him, Carlos spoke. "What's going on here?"
Kate could hear the anger in his voice. Well, she was angry too. She didn't want any of this, and having Carlos here to see her complete humiliation and degradation was too much. She whirled around.
"What do you think is going on?" she asked sharply. "Johnny's moving past trafficking guns."
Carlos gritted his teeth. "And he's trafficking you?"
Kate didn't answer. She knew Carlos knew the answer. She curled her hands into fists.
Carlos started to say something else, but then stopped, his intense gaze landing on her face. "What's that?" he asked. His voice vibrated with anger and he took a step toward her.
It was a reflex to stand her ground, even though nothing about Carlos would make her flinch away anyway. She ground her molars together as Carlos lifted a hand and lightly brushed her hair back from her face.
There were no lights upstairs, only the neon that came through the window from the bar's sign. But Kate could tell it was enough for Carlos to make out the purple bruise next to her eye.
"Johnny?" he asked, the tight thread of control holding his emotions clearly ready to snap.
Kate did pull away then. "It's nothing," she said.
Carlos met her eyes, his dark eyes intense, holding hers. "You don't have to stay here. I can get you out of here. Joe and I can—"
Kate slapped away the hand he was lifting to move her hair from her face. "You have no idea what you're talking about," she hissed. "No idea."
"Then tell me," Carlos countered, not deterred by her venom. "Tell me what I need to know to get you away from this. Away from Johnny."
Kate had grown up overhearing stories not meant for her ears. Between a grandpa who was the police commissioner, then a father, and a sister in the DA's office, she knew the stories of witnesses who disappeared, who were gunned down in protective custody. And what was done to their families…their children…
"Just build your case and leave me out of it," she snapped.
"Kate," Carlos said.
Kate steeled herself against the emotion that flared when he said her name.
"I want to help you."
Kate let out a bitter laugh. "You can't help me."
Carlos gentled his voice and tried again, this time a soft touch to her hand. "You don't know that."
Kate jerked away from him so quickly she almost fell. "And you don't know the first thing about me! All you know is I'm some loser bartender at this dump. You don't know anything about my life away from here!" A hard lump lodged in her throat and she stopped before she gave in to the emotion.
Carlos didn't say anything and she knew he was giving her space to tell him what it was he didn't know about her life apart from the bar. Kate went over to a stack of boxes and took a seat, arms folded protectively in front of herself. She could run down the clock.
Carlos leaned back against another set of boxes, surprising her when he didn't push. He let the silence settle around them.
A car alarm sounded down the street. Two loud cracks that could be fireworks or gunfire in the distance.
"Should we get back downstairs?" Carlos finally spoke.
Kate had no idea how long a…business transaction with a prostitute was supposed to last. She shrugged and stood, her ribs aching less with the movement than they would have yesterday, and less than the day before that. Carlos' eyes were dark with concern and she deliberately turned away from him, hating that it made her think of Johnny's lack of care about her being shot or having broken ribs. He had made a point to give her a sharp elbow right to where she had been stitched up the day she returned and told him her version of what had happened.
Carlos started toward the door at the top of the stairs, but Kate stopped him.
"Wait." Her voice was raspy and she told herself it was because of the awkwardness of this whole situation, not because of any emotion.
Carlos stood still as she approached. Kate stood in front of him, looking up at him. She could smell the clean scent of the shaving cream he used. She reached up her hands and slowly tousled his hair.
"Johnny isn't easy to fool," she said, avoiding his eyes. She slowly unfastened the buttons of his flannel shirt, pretending she didn't notice the way his chest stilled and he held his breath. She deliberately buttoned one button into the wrong button hole. She was about to step back, but foolishly met his eyes first.
"Kate," he said hoarsely.
Her own breath was trapped in her lungs. Her lips parted as she waited for what he was going to say, willing him to not say anything that would make this harder at the same time she mentally begged him to say it.
He brushed at her hair again, his fingers feather light against her bruise. He was close enough now she could tell he saw the cut on her other temple.
He finally let out a ragged sigh and stepped back. "Any time you want out…"
She closed her eyes for a minute but didn't let herself imagine what getting out would look like. "We need to get downstairs," she said, stepping around him, running a hand through her own hair to muss it, and heading down the stairs.
#
