He may be a courier, but he’s not the boss. Though there’s been some street chatter that he’s moving up in the ranks, trying to prove himself. We’ve heard the name Uno.”
“You think he’s the guy in charge?” Zach pressed.
Noah shrugged. “Nothing definitive, but it’s telling that when we bring up the name, all our sources close up tighter than a tick on a coonhound. There’s something behind this guy Uno.”
“Another drug ring putting down roots here in Queens?” her father asked with a shake of his head.
“Plenty of noise that there’s a drug-smuggling operation organizing,” Carter said, “but we can’t prove this Uno character is behind it. Malcolm Spade was running things until recently, but thanks to Declan, we got him put away.”
Declan Maxwell was Zach’s longtime friend and the newest K-9 officer with the elite NYPD Vapor Wake Squad. Along with the Jameson brothers, Jordan among them, Declan and his dog Storm had helped take down the drug kingpin. Thinking about it set loose a wave of sadness inside her. She had not seen Katie, Jordan’s pregnant wife, at the diner in several weeks. Zach’s grimace made her believe he’d been thinking about his lost brother also.
“What about the TSA guy?” Noah asked.
“No sign of him but we’re looking.”
Zach toyed with his coffee mug. “Bill Oscar’s got to be involved. I’m going to put him under a microscope and tear his past apart until I get to the bottom of it.”
Violet bit her lip. Her heart told her Bill was a good boss, a good father, a good friend, but there was no way to overlook the fact that he’d acted suspiciously at the airport. Zach’s flinty expression told her she had zero chance of diverting him from that course of the investigation, anyway.
“You shouldn’t go back to your apartment,” Zach said, fixing her with eyes darkened to navy. “It’s not safe. If Bill’s involved, he can feed Beck your address.”
There was universal agreement around the table.
“He wouldn’t...” she started to say, until uncertainty dried up the words.
“She can move in with us,” Barbara said. “Help take care of that little stinker of a puppy.”
The pup’s mother, Stella, was a gift from the Czech Republic to the NYPD. The yellow Lab had surprised one and all by having eight puppies shortly after her arrival, leaving the department scrambling for homes for all the pups. K-9 officer Brianne Hayes was now training mama Stella in the ways of bomb detection, but her babies were unharnessed hurricanes needing constant supervision. Latte, the precocious pup, had found a home with the Griffins. Two others had been placed with Carter and his daughter Ellie in the Jameson home. Violet figured them to be a welcome distraction in the wake of Jordy’s murder.
“Yeah, you’re gonna need another set of hands at least,” Carter said with a groan. “The two we’ve got are tearing up the place. I’m down a gym bag and a Yankees cap already. Ellie is all set to keep them forever, even though they’ve mangled her toy sewing machine.”
“So everyone agrees, then,” her father said. “It’s settled. Violet can work here and stay at our place. I need help keeping up with the pie demand, and everyone says that your pies are superior, Violet. Your mother’s got a little birthday shindig here on Tuesday afternoon, remember. She’s expecting big stuff in the pie department.”
Violet steeled herself. Her father would be content if she never left their family dwelling in Rego Park, right next door to the Jamesons’ shared family home. She was never sure if his overprotectiveness was due to losing his son, or the fact that she was a female, or just his natural bent, but whatever the reason, she’d fought for her independence and she wouldn’t let it be stripped away because of Xavier Beck. “Hold up just one minute. As much as I adore you all, no one is going to organize my life. I am perfectly fine at my apartment, and I’m not giving up my job at the airport.”
“But...” her father started.
“It’s not safe,” Zach said again. He got to his feet. Eddie eyed him from the porch room and stood, too, tail wagging in anticipation of a departure. “This guy Beck knows you saw the drugs in his bag. You can testify. You shouldn’t be alone.”
She stood. “I’m not alone. I have a roommate.”
He was unmoved. “Who is away on an overseas assignment for another three weeks, correct?”
“Yes, but I live in a building with a hundred other tenants. The guy next door is a butcher, and he knows how to handle a meat cleaver, if it comes to that.”
Her father snorted. “He works practically round the clock, plus he’s a Red Sox fan and that just speaks to his poor character right there.” He threw up his hands as if he’d just set the universe in order.
Violet stood as tall as she could manage. Good thing she was wearing heels. Even so, she had to tip her head to look Zach in the eye. “With or without a butcher next door, I am a very competent woman, thank you very much.”
“Vi...” Zach towered over her, handsome face close enough for her to reach out and touch the fatigue lines that grooved his forehead. She kept her hands clenched by her sides. “This isn’t about competence,” he said wearily.
The softness in his voice almost broke her resolve. Bossiness she could deal with, but tenderness... She swallowed. “I will not be forced out of my home. I’m safe and I’m not scared.” She tried to believe her own brash statement.
They all stared at her. Zach folded his arms across his chest. It seemed like the entire diner went dead silent.
Noah cleared his throat. “We’ll assign a detail to watch her place.”
Zach shook his head. “No. It’s not enough. Vi, I want you to stay with your parents.”
Right next door to the home he shared with his brothers? It was part of the reason she’d been so anxious to move away. It killed her an inch at a time to see him every day, watch him bringing his girlfriends to the house for family dinners, to try and pretend she was happy for him when her own heart was protesting. In the months before Jordy was killed, she thought she’d actually achieved some level of normalcy, accepting that Zach and the Jamesons had their own lives and loves that didn’t involve her. It’s the way he wants it, she’d finally convinced herself. She thrust her chin up. “Badge or not, you don’t get to tell me what to do, Zach.”
His eyes sparked, narrowed, pinned her in that way he probably did when he was staring at someone he was about to arrest. She stared right back, hoping the fire in her eyes matched his.
“Okay,” he said, after a breath.
She was thrilled at her victory until he continued.
“If you’re going to ignore all good sense and stay at your apartment, I’m sleeping on your sofa. End of story.”
Satisfaction turned to outrage. “You most certainly are not.”
“Zach,” Noah said. “This isn’t your call. You’re off shift, and you’ve had a long day. Go home and rest.”
Zach shot
