Saved by the Outlaw(22)
“Turkey, swiss, lettuce, tomato, and mustard. I suppose that’ll do!”
“Why are the cops here?” I ask in an undertone.
“Sorry, dear, I’m a bit hard of hearing!” Wanda shoots back, still preparing the sandwiches as though everything is perfectly normal. This is getting ridiculous.
I drop the loaf of bread and storm into the living room despite Wanda’s feeble protests behind me. Walking straight up to circle of men, I demand, “Could someone please tell me what’s going on right now! Are we under arrest, or what?”
The officers blink confusedly at me, then they both start to chuckle.
“Wow, I’ve never seen someone so eager to incriminate herself,” says the first one, whose name badge reads SAMUELS.
The second one, whose lapel bears the name GREENE laughs, “I wish we were here to arrest you. It’d be an easy job.”
“Cut her some slack, gentlemen,” Leon interjects, though he’s smiling, too. “This is a new friend of mine. She’s not fully initiated yet, alright?”
“New friend, eh?” Greene says, waggling his eyebrows up and down and nudging Leon in the ribs.
“You gonna initiate her, or ya gonna give us the pleasure?” Samuels jokes. But Leon gives them both warning glares and their smiles fade instantly.
“Drop the innuendoes, boys,” Gerald adds, rolling his eyes. “This is serious business, if you haven’t forgotten. This is John LaBeau’s girl.”
Both officers immediately remove their hats and press them to their chests, bowing their heads slightly in deferential courtesy.
“Our apologies, miss.”
“And condolences. John was a good man.”
“Thank you. He was,” I respond, my voice sounding thick and emotional. I have to hold it together. I can’t afford to look weak in front of these guys.
“Have a seat, boys!” Wanda says, wobbling into the room carrying a silver tray stacked with turkey sandwiches and little cups of tea. Leon rushes to take it from her gently.
“Here, let me get that,” he offers, lifting it away from her with one steady hand. Something moves deep inside me at this kind, simple gesture. Maybe he isn’t the cold-blooded gangbanger I thought he was this morning in the warehouse. In fact, that first encounter seems to have happened so long ago, in another world. It’s hard to believe that in under twenty-four hours so much has transpired. So much for life moving slow in Bayonne.
“Thank you, son,” Wanda says, beaming at him as she settles into a slouchy, ancient-looking armchair.
I wonder how often Leon comes by to see them. I’m sure that the old couple sees something of their own late son in him. My heart aches for their loss. Sure, I have lost my own father, but I can’t imagine how terrible it must be to have to bury one’s own child. Especially under such suspicious circumstances.
The men all sit down, leaving a spot on the couch beside Leon, presumably for me. So I take it, shivering just so slightly when my thigh touches against his. I force myself not to look down, not to give that minuscule touch even an ounce of my attention. After all, like Gerald said, this is serious business. I’m not here to cuddle up to some hot shot bad boy.
Even if he did literally save me from otherwise certain death so many years ago. And despite the fact that he’s scorchingly, blindingly attractive. I can hardly fathom what those muscular arms and sensual lips could do to my body…
Nope! I scream at myself internally. Focus!
“So what exactly are you all here for, officers?” Leon asks, resting his elbows on his knees and leaning forward to take a sandwich from the stack.
Samuels, between gigantic bites of his sandwich, replies plainly, “We heard over the dispatcher about the shots fired at Mickey’s earlier.”
“Had a strong inklin’ you were involved,” Greene adds.
“Well, you got me. I was there. I might have inadvertently caused it to happen,” Leon admits, looking crestfallen and guilty.
“You weren’t the one holding the gun,” I interject suddenly, before I can stop myself. I can’t stand by and let Leon take the fall for what Mickey did.
“Yeah, but I provoked him,” he counters with a shrug. “I’m just as guilty as he is.”
“Don’t martyr yourself for him,” I reply, standing my ground.
Greene looks back and forth between us, a little bemused, then he simply asks, “Were there any injuries?”
Leon nods and heaves a burdened sigh. “Yes. One man outside was shot through the window when Mickey’s gun went off. He was aiming for me until one of my own men took him down and the gun misfired.”