Desiree
My stomach twists in knots the whole drive, hands ice cold. First, I couldn’t think at all, but as we pull into Indianapolis, a million thoughts swirl through my head. The major underlying anxiety runs along the lines of-what if he’s not there? What if we haven’t really found him? Or can’t take him when we get there?
“I was hoping we’d get here before Jasper gets picked up from the after school program at five,” Junior says.
I tilt my head, replaying his words in my mind, because my brain isn’t working straight.
He must see that I don’t understand, because he explains, “I don’t know, I thought it might be easier on him if you picked him up instead of his dad. And then we just drove off. But the school might not have released him.” Junior shakes his head. “It’s probably gonna be messy, no matter what.”
My eyes prick with tears of gratitude. I can’t believe how much thought he’s put into this-his consideration for Jasper. Junior may come off as a tough-guy meathead, but he’s way more. He’s nuanced. Sophisticated.
I remember how he slipped the girl in the cafe the money. It made me jealous-which was stupid-but part of my jealousy was over the thought and effort he put into the gesture.
He pulls up in front of a brick house. “This is it. That’s Abe’s truck.” He points to an old Ford F150 parked in front of us. “Abe rents the basement.”
He parks the car and pulls a gun out of a holster next to his seat.
My brain finally kicks into gear. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. What are you doing?”
He pauses but raises his brows like he doesn’t understand the question.
“You’re not bringing a gun in there.” I point toward the house. “My six-year-old kid is in there. And Abe is his father.”
Junior sighs.
“No. Guns,” I say firmly.
A new set of fears suddenly comes crashing around me. Junior and Abe. This isn’t going to go well. That’s part of why he thought picking Jasper up from school would be better. Junior is one hundred percent alpha male, which means he’s going to have to piss all over Abe.
Not that Abe doesn’t deserve it, but things could get messy here, really fast. And I don’t need messy. I just want to get my son and get out of here.
I want to either burst into tears or puke as we walk up the sidewalk, then down the steps to the basement door. Junior’s expression is hard, eyes dead. A shiver runs down my spine. “Maybe you should wait in the car,” I tell him when we get to the door.
He goes still, studying me, then draws back a half a step and angles his back against the brick wall. “I’ll be right here,” he says, folding his arms over his chest.
His position as bodyguard reassures me. I draw a deep breath and knock on the door.
Abe’s stupid enough to swing the door wide without looking out the peephole first. When he gets over his surprise at seeing me, he tries to shut it again, but I launch myself through the doorway. He slams the door back, and clocks me in the head and shoulder.
My vision bleeds black as pain explodes at the points of impact.
Junior surges into motion like a dark, avenging angel. I’m still seeing stars as he kicks the door open like we’re in a movie, simultaneously propelling me into the basement apartment.
“Mommy!” Jasper yells and then I really can’t see, because my vision goes blurry with tears.
Jasper and I both cry, strangling each other with hugs. It takes me a minute to realize how bad the situation got. Just feet from us, Junior’s brawling with Abe.
No, make that beating the shit out of Abe. The crack of bone on bone splits the air and Abe’s body flies past us, crashing into the coffee table with a sickening thud.
Jasper screams.
Abe groans, but tries to get up.
Junior stalks over, picks him up by his shirt and punches his bloody face.
“Junior.”
Junior ignores me, punching Abe again and again.
“Junior!” I scream.
I don’t want Jasper to see this. Any of it.
I also don’t want to put him down or out of my sight, even for a second. Ever again. But I need to stop Junior before he kills Abe.
I scream his name again, then body check him with my shoulder, my son still wrapped up tight in my arms.
When he glances at me, his expression chills me to the bone. There’s nothing there. No life at all. He’s cold. Deadly. Dangerous.
He must see the fear in my face, though, because the horrifying mask disintegrates, and then he’s the Junior I know. His brows drop, forehead wrinkles in concern.
I realize I’m still bawling. “Junior, no,” I beg. “Stop this. Right now.”
He looks at Abe who can barely move on the floor, then back at me and his expression clouds, like he realizes what he’s done. “Fanculo,” he mutters, scrubbing a hand over his face. His knuckles are swollen and bloody.
Abe can’t seem to get up. Jesus, Junior did some damage. What if he’d brought the gun in?
Ice sluices through my veins.
I know what would’ve happened.
My son’s father would be dead right now.
How far from reality did I drift that I thought bringing a violent mobster on the most important errand of my life with me would end well? And now, as if Jasper hasn’t been traumatized enough by his kidnapping, he will be forever scarred by seeing his father brutally assaulted by his mother’s boyfriend.
Not okay.
Not in any realm or reality.
I fish my phone out of my purse. I need to take charge of this situation and do what’s right. “I’m calling an ambulance,” I mutter.
“Don’t,” Junior warns.
“You don’t get to make this decision,” I snarl at him.
The color drains from his face. He takes a step back and his eyes go dead again.
I carry Jasper into his bedroom while I make the 911 call, then hang up and set him down. “You’re coming home with Mommy now. I missed you so much, Jasper.” I drop to my knees and give him another bear hug.
“I missed you, too, Mommy.” His little voice kills me. So sweet. So precious to my ears.
“What do you want to pack to bring along? Any special toys or stuffed animals?” He has a favorite pillow he was terribly attached to at home. I cried into it at least a dozen times, wondering how he was sleeping without it.
“I’ll bring Mr. Dragon.” He picks up a rainbow-colored stuffed dragon.
“Anything else?”
He shakes his head. “I just want to go home.”
Ugh. I moved after his dad took him from me because I needed to downgrade to afford the P. I. I’m not going to tell Jasper that now, though.
I pick him up again and carry him into the living room as the sirens approach the house.
Junior’s standing in the open door, waiting for the swarm of cops and paramedics who stream into the little apartment.
As the second shit-storm of the night rolls in, I realize I probably made a huge mistake.
* * *
Junior
The cops throw me face down and cuff me as soon as they arrive, even though I offer no resistance. I expected this kind of treatment, though. I just didn’t want Desiree or her boy to have to see it.
Cristo, I fucked up.
Big time.
I already wanted to throttle her stronzo ex for what he put her through taking the boy, but when I saw him smash the door into her face, I relished killing him.
But not in front of her. Not in front of the boy. I should’ve pulled back. Or pulled him out of the apartment. I don’t know. I should’ve done something different.
Because now I’m sure I’ve lost Desiree. The horror and condemnation on her face make it clear.
“Well, look here,” one of the two beat cops who showed up drawls. “Driver’s license says this is Santo Tacone, from Chicago. Wouldn’t be related to the Don Tacone sitting in a Federal Prison right now, wouldya?”
I don’t answer.
It earns me a swift kick to the ribs. Fine. Local cops want to be heroes and give me a beat-down, they’re welcome to it. I probably deserve it for what I’m putting Desiree through.
After a few more bruising kicks, the other cop, who was interviewing Desiree, snaps, “What the fuck are you doing?”
“He was resisting arrest,” the first cop says.
“You got a room full of witnesses, dumbshit,” he says, which is true. The tiny apartment also has three paramedics in it, as well as Desiree and Jasper. “And seriously-I don’t think you wanna fuck with this guy.” He hooks an arm under mine and tugs, helping me off the floor and to my feet.
“Are you kidding? We got Santo Tacone, Jr. on something solid. Assault and battery. No way we’re not taking this as far as we can.”
“Let him go,” Desiree storms. “He was just protecting me.” I’m more than a little relieved that she’s defending me, although I’m not stupid enough to think it changes things. Clearly she didn’t see this coming. She hasn’t been on the wrong side of the law her whole life, like I have.
The first cop looks confused.
“It was self-defense.” The second cop unlocks my handcuffs.
I have to hide my shock. But this could be the classic Good Cop, Bad Cop play.
“Are you kidding me? He put that guy in the hospital,” Bad Cop says.
“So he got a little aggressive. I’d be hot, too, if someone hit my girlfriend and kidnapped her child.”
I keep my mouth shut. I know better than to ever say a word in front of law enforcement.
The paramedics wheel Abe out on a stretcher. Good Cop speaks into his radio.
Bad Cop narrows his eyes. “You’re scared of this guy. Wait-you’re from Chicago, aren’t you?”
“I grew up in Tacone territory, yeah. What I remember mostly is they kept the streets safe. So, no. I don’t have a hard-on for putting a guy away who was acting hero for his girlfriend.”
I give the guy my full attention now, studying him, checking the name on his badge-John Badger.
“Badger Hardware,” I say, when the name comes to me. A locally-owned hardware store in Cicero, before Home Depot and Lowes put the small guys out of business. Actually, that store’s still there, a throwback to older times.
Good Cop’s face splits into a grin. “Yep. That’s my uncle’s place. It’s still around.”
“It sure is,” I say.
Good Cop’s phone rings and he answers it, stepping outside.
Bad Cop glowers at me.
I keep still.
Desiree’s pacing around the tiny apartment, still holding Jasper in her arms, picking up his clothes and toys and throwing them in a plastic bag. Every so often I hear her sniff, which completely guts me.
The kid, too, looks traumatized. He has a death grip on his mother’s neck, face tucked in like he doesn’t want to see any of what’s going on.
Good Cop comes back and addresses Desiree. “All right, I have confirmation of your story. Police records in Cook County show you have full custody of Jasper and the father abducted him from you. You are free to take him home.”
“Thank you.” Desiree glances in my direction without quite looking at me. “What about him?”
“He’s free to go, too.”
“Are you nuts?” Bad Cop snarls.
Good Cop holds his hand out to me and I shake it, relieved that for once, my family and my name won me a favor instead of lost it for me.
My dad did some things right.
He operated by a code of ethics, just outside the law. He made his own law.
But this isn’t a win, by any means. Desiree turns and walks out the door without ever meeting my eye and I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that we’re over.