Deeper (The Deeper Chronicles #1) (29 page)

Ido’s partner’s finger trailed the grooves in his desk. “And that’s exactly how I prefer it.”

“But I saw you.”

Brown eyes lifted to Ido’s face. “I was there to meet
the
Ido Aswad.”

His ego swelled, as did another part of him. “You held your own too.”

“That’s right.” Ido’s associate sat on top of the dark wood desk and wedged a foot between Ido’s muscular thighs, pressing against the bulge there.

“Hmm,” he groaned.

A cigar was slid between Ido’s lips.

“You assured me you were the man for this.” Leaning forward, the tip of the cigar was removed with the cutter. “If you’re not, I can get someone else.”

Ido’s sight landed on the blue flames that sprung from the lighter, and his countenance shifted. He grabbed the slender hand, delighted when the area became red and he saw a wince. Their battle of wills manifested in a tug-of-war. As the struggle mounted, Ido applied more pressure to the digits. After several moments, it became clear there could only be one outcome. With a sly smile, Ido basked in his silent victory.

He steadied his lover’s shaky hand that held the light and brought the flame close to his cigar. When it was lit, he released his hold. Resting his shoulders back into the chair, the corners of Ido’s eyes crinkled with pleasure as his friend rubbed the tender hand.

Never before had someone so turned him on, and his libido was indiscriminate. Pulling the cigar from his lips, the aromatic smoke billowed forward. “There will be no other man.” He eyed his defiant partner. “
Tu me fais dur quand tu parles comme ça
.”

“You know I don’t speak French.”

In the shell of his lover’s ear, Ido whispered, “I said you make me hard when you talk like that.” He unzipped his pants and grabbed a condom and lube from the top drawer.

Hours later, hundreds of police officers lined the edges of a quiet street in Brooklyn. They stood, shoulder-to-shoulder, saluting a passing black limousine.

Shielded by the vehicle’s tinted window, Avi tried her best to relax. Her stomach gurgled with nervousness. She fidgeted with the clasp on her clutch just to give her fingers something to do. The scene in front of her was one reason she was close to losing her breakfast.

Four motorcycles driven by police officers led the procession to the church. Robert Plummer, her lawyer—Avi still couldn’t wrap her mind around that one—had conveyed her request to Harry’s department about the day’s proceedings: there would be no police officers allowed inside the sanctuary or any of the other traditional send-offs like gun salutes or playing bagpipes. All of those would have further increased her anxiety.

When her request for a more intimate funeral was respected, she decided to allow the officers to publicly display their condolences toward their fallen brethren. After all, Harry had spent more than half his life protecting and serving the city of New York. So there they were, most of whom never knew Harry by name, but were connected to him because of the badge they wore and the city they protected. While here she sat with his blood coursing through her veins yet so disconnected from Harry Manning.

“Are you ready?” Noah asked once the vehicle stopped.

It was now or never. She gave a quick nod.

As soon as the door opened, reporters swarmed them. An off-duty cop gunned down on a bustling street corner was news enough, but who attended this notoriously private officer’s funeral was the real story.

Exiting the car was an easy feat, but pushing through the reporters with their blinding floodlights, intrusive microphones, and prying cameras was hard. Even with Ro clearing the way, reaching the church doors wasn’t without challenge for Avi and Noah.

“How did you know Detective Manning?” someone yelled.

“Criminal,” another voice shouted.

Avi craned her neck in an attempt to peer over Noah’s shoulder at the source of the accusation. Ro hustled them inside, and once the heavy doors closed, Noah released her hand.

“Hey, you,” Sofie’s words drew Avi’s focus forward.

“Hey yourself.”

Sofie pulled Avi close in a hug she needed. “I know you didn’t know him, but Harry was a really good man.”

“So everyone tells me,” she muttered.

Sofie released her with a pat on the back. They walked down the center aisle. The gathering was small and filled with the same faces Avi had been introduced to at Sofie’s birthday party. Beth was holding Cass’s hand and rubbing his forearm in consolation. Gavin cracked a small smile as they walked past him.

Avi and Sofie sat beside Stacey, who immediately whisper-yelled, “I’m so hungry.”

The light chuckles the women shared helped calm Avi’s rampaging nerves. Not knowing what to say, but needing to fill the air, Avi shared, “Thanks for being here.”

Stacey reached for Avi’s hand and patted it. “Harry was good people. Like a father to my Ro, Cass, and—”

“Avi, are you coming?” Noah stood beside the pew. “Evening, ladies.”

As Avi walked by, Sofie said to Noah, “Take care of our girl.”

“I will.”

His words did nothing to settle her raging nerves. Her imagination went into overdrive, hoping he didn’t seat them too close to the front.
Oh, my God, was the service an open or closed casket?
She twisted her lips, trying to remember, but everything had been so fuzzy since he picked her up from her apartment. She was sure Noah had told her. The possibility of seeing Harry lying like that...Avi became light-headed and gripped the top of the pew for support.

“Noah, go sit her down. She looks like she’s about to faint.” Stacey’s concern was evident.

Avi took several breaths before she could trust her feet to work. She removed her fingers and turned slightly toward her father’s friend. With his hand on the small of her back, Noah ushered her forward and slowed his steps to match her cautious ones. He led her to the first row and allowed her to sit first. Avi exhaled when she realized that her emotions wouldn’t go into a tailspin by seeing Harry’s frozen face.

“Do you need anything?”

“I’m good.”
I think.

A microphone screeched from the front. Avi faced the podium and the small-statured man standing behind it. While the other man spoke, her skin prickled under Noah’s constant peeks at her. He made Avi want to hide even more.

Was he hoping she’d be tearful and inconsolable? Everything was so confusing. One minute she was sad, the next angry, and somewhere in between all of those jumbled feelings was the one that nagged her the most. Jealousy. It gnawed and clawed at her insides. It choked her up and left her vulnerable.

“Avi,” Noah whispered.

She was glad he called her name, pulling her out of her head, which these days wasn’t a safe place to be.

“Mr. Adams requested this service be a little different,” the pastor said, eyes on Noah. “Right now, we’re going to have reflections by those who knew the deceased.”

One by one, Noah’s friends, supported by their sniffling wives, spoke about a loving, generous, and kind Harry Manning. The longer they shared their personal experiences, the more Avi frowned. They openly recounted private moments. Phone calls on birthdays, regular meals together—family activities. Things she missed with her mother, and had never had with her father.

She squirmed, feeling overly chilled despite the warm air. When Cass, Ro, and Gavin called Harry the father they never had, she bit back a gasp.

“He helped mold me,” Ro said. “Me, Cass, and Noah became true brothers in the sand, never worrying that our DNA didn’t match. Harry used to send these big care packages. I mean jammed packed for Noah and these thick letters. He loved him some Noah.” Ro paused, resting his gaze on his friend. “I’m telling you when we finally met Harry, he scooped us up under his wings. Noah trusted us, and that was all Harry needed. It was like, where had Harry been all my life? I was out of the desert, but had no home. Harry gave me one, and taught a twenty-eight year old man how to really
be
a man.”

“And thank God for that,” Stacey piped up from beside her husband.

Ro smiled down at his wife. “You have something to say, babe?”

She stepped up to the closed bronze casket and touched it with tender care. “I’m going to miss this man. Since everyone told their stories, I’d like to share mine. Some may not know this, but a few years ago, Ro and I were sure we were headed to divorce court.”

Surprise passed through the small group of mourners.

“All is well at Castle Harris—now. And it’s because of that man. He believed in family. He somehow made these yahoos we love part of his family. It was that belief that made him fight so hard for all of us.” She took a breath. “Anyone who knew Harry had no choice but to love him. He was as genuine as they come, and if he’d lived longer, he would have loved you just as I’m sure you would have loved him.” She pinned Avi with a stare.

The pastor stood and approached the couple. “Thank you for sharing. The way you all speak about Mr. Manning, I now wish I had the privilege of knowing him. But we know he’s in a better place. You’re all fortunate to be his living legacies. Mr. Adams...” He walked back to his place.

Approaching the podium, Noah unbuttoned his jacket. “What can I say that hasn’t already been shared? Harry was a tough bird to take me—”

The church doors flew open. Gasps were heard while the seated men stood to their feet.

Two uniformed men took determined steps toward the group. Their police hats hung low over angry, unapologetic eyes. Black bands lay straight across their badges, covering a portion of the brass shields.

The shorter one came straight toward Avi, stooping in front of her.

“Miss, my sincerest condolences.” Detective Giampa took his hat off. “I never knew Harry had any family.”

She shrieked when he grabbed her hand.

“Don’t touch her,” she heard Noah shout.

Disregarding everything around him, Frank said, “I just want to give...” His rough hand tugged on Avi’s balled one. “This was your father’s. He kept it in his locker at the precinct.”

Her palm opened up at the softness in his tone. A medal dropped into her hand. The familiarity when he mentioned Harry’s name made Avi’s gut churn with longing and envy. Everyone around her knew this man, her own flesh and blood, and they were a constant reminder of what she never had.

And now this.

She swallowed the bitterness and pain. Tears pooled in her eyes.

“I said don’t touch her.” Noah’s voice was closer, but Avi couldn’t really see or hear anything.

Her finger traced the outline of the medal. None of the words on the silver medallion meant much except for two words: Harry Manning. The weight of Frank’s gift became like a heavy boulder in Avi’s hand, and she let it slide onto the padded seat. In front of her, Ro had a restraining hand on Noah’s arm. The detective and the officer now had their backs to her.

“You delivered whatever you had to, now leave,” Noah commanded, shrugging from Ro’s hold and coming toward Frank. His gaze flickered to Avi, but went right back to the detective.

The scene unfolded before Avi, and though her lips opened to tell everyone to be quiet or to leave, no words left her mouth. She stood, hoping that would gain their attention.

“Who are you?” Frank returned his hat on top of his head. “Are you family, too?”

“Doesn’t matter who I am. I told you to leave,” Noah said through clenched teeth.

The pastor stepped forward. “Please. Gentleman, this is a house of worship.” His tone was rebuking. “And a private service per the wish of Mr. Manning’s living relative.”

“I’ll leave when I’m ready.”

She tried to voice
her
wishes: she would leave and they could all stay. The words lodged in her throat.

The pastor pulled out a handkerchief, wiped his forehead, and dabbed at his reddened cheek.

Frank was tugged back by Officer Simmonds standing near him. “We should respect Manning’s kid’s wish.”

“Take a hint, detective,” Noah spat out.

Frank approached Avi and tipped his hat at her. “My condolences again.”

Conversations around her swelled. Avi stood, but no one was paying much attention to her. Their focus was on the blatant disrespect by Frank Giampa. They didn’t need her. Their righteous indignation wasn’t baseless. After all, they were Harry’s friends and his true family. She was an outsider and would never belong.