Giving It All (24 page)

“How can you be sure? It’s too much of a risk.” Grant gulped down half of his beer.

“I had screaming nightmares for months after I got back. I’d wake clawing at the nurses, swearing at them and trying to punch with my missing arm. Luckily, my depth perception was so off I never hurt anyone, but I was dead certain I’d never spend the night with another woman, even if I could get one to look past the scars and the whole Cyclops look.”

“Then you fell in love and that cured you?” Grant said, sarcastically.

“No, then I started drinking myself unconscious for about a year. Finally, my folks dragged me into rehab. While I was drying out, I got hooked up with a doc who specializes in PTSD, and as part of my discharge plan, I had to attend therapy.”

“I did some of that with the VA.”

“Yeah, I did too, but this guy, he knew his shit. He’d been a Ranger, had gone through all of the same crap, you know? It wasn’t some guy who’d studied battle trauma and thought he knew everything. He’d actually lived it.”

“Do you still have them? The nightmares?”

“Sometimes. I haven’t had a flashback in over a year, but I taught my wife what to do if I have one. It’s just like living with a diabetic or someone who gets seizures. If you have a plan in place, it doesn’t necessarily make it any less shitty, but it’s not as scary if they know what to expect.”

“Aren’t you afraid you’ll hurt her? And now the baby?”

“I had a few bad moments thinking about that after we found out Becky was pregnant. I went back to the doctor and he said he had no worries about me. I can’t say as I believed him, but then he said something that made me think.”

“What?”

“He asked if I let my wife drive to work.”

“What does that have to do with PTSD?”

“He said I had one episode in eight months. There are close to 1200 traffic fatalities in Georgia a year. That’s roughly three deaths a day, every day of the year, and if I really wanted to protect her, I should make her stop driving.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Exactly his point. So this girl you’re worried about hurting has more of a chance getting hurt driving than being with you.”

“But I don’t want to be the one who hurts her.”

“You won’t. It’s not like you were a killing machine who operated mindlessly. You operated under orders, right?”

“Of course.”

“Then I doubt you’d suddenly get the urge to go berserk and kill everything during a flashback.”

Grant sat back and thought about Trev’s words. He wasn’t sure he believed everything, but some of what he’d said made sense. Obviously, it worked for Trev or he wouldn’t be here showing pictures of his new baby.

“It’s something to think about. Thanks.”

“Anytime. Remember, we regularly meet here the third Wednesday of every month. It helps to be around guys who understand.”

“I might just swing by.”

Grant waited until he was out of the pub before listening to the message from his mom.

“Hey, Grant, everything’s fine here. I just wanted to let you know that the police called and said we could reopen the business. Ellie’s gone to the store to try to figure out what Greg did and I’m calling Anita to rehire her. I’m going to need your help getting everything straightened out. We’ll talk more at dinner.”

“Shit!” Grant swore so loudly, an older woman crossing the street gave him a dirty look.

What was Ellie thinking? She knew there was more to the story than they’d told his mom. She shouldn’t be going to the store alone. They didn’t know who’d beaten up Greg. What made her think they wouldn’t come after her now that the police were out of the store?

He jogged down the street, glad O’Malley’s was on the same road as Anderson’s. Sure enough, Ellie’s beat-up Nissan was parked right there in front of the store. Why didn’t she just take out an ad that said, “Vulnerable female, come and get me!”

The front door was locked at least, so he ran around back instead of unlocking it. He knocked on the door and waited until Ellie opened it.

“What the hell are you thinking coming here by yourself?” he shouted. “Do you want to end up in the hospital like Greg?”

“I was thinking someone had to clean this mess up for your mom. Now do you want to see what I’ve found or yell at me for coming to a store in broad daylight?”

“Greg got smacked around in broad daylight, if you remember.”

“Do you want to see this or not?”

Grant grunted and followed her into the office. His gaze took in everything about her from her cut-off shorts to the pencil shoved behind her ear. She’d lost weight and looked more fragile than normal. Damn it, that wasn’t his fault. He was trying to do what was right for her.

“What did you find out?”

“I finally figured out why the numbers didn’t match. He wasn’t paying the bills.”

“What do you mean? The lights are still on, and as far as I know, Dad still has his insurance.”

“Yes, but he liquidated all that extra stock he bought, that’s why the warehouse was empty. He sold off the good auto parts, cut his salary, Anita’s salary and benefits plus your dad’s salary, and he hasn’t paid for the last shipment of parts from his new distributor. All of that equals extra money in the account over the last two months.”

“I don’t get it. Why is he doing that?”

“I have a theory.”

“I’m all ears.”

“He’s trying to hide something. He stopped paying his salary from the store bank account, but he’s still making a deposit to his personal account that’s only a few hundred dollars more than his regular weekly paycheck.”

“How do you figure that?”

“I happened to look at his bank account.”

“Is that legal?” Grant asked.

“I didn’t hack into the account. He has the password saved on the computer. A few weeks after your dad’s stroke, he made a deposit of 9999 dollars. Every week after that, he made a deposit a little more than his regular paycheck. In total, he’s probably deposited close to a hundred thousand in the three months your dad has been gone.”

“Where is he getting this money? Tony said there were no drugs in the parts either here or in Mexico. The forensic accountants at the agency didn’t see anything unusual in the store’s bank account either.”

“They wouldn’t, because he’s not using that account, he’s using his personal one. The amounts he’s depositing don’t set up any red flags because they are within normal parameters for his lifestyle, other than the one big deposit, and he kept it under ten thousand so there was no report generated for that either.”

“But if you noticed he deposited close to a hundred thousand, why hasn’t the bank?”

“Because he’s taken out a good half of that.”

“Could he be laundering it?”

“I have no idea.”

“We need to talk to Greg. And I know just where he is.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Ellie watched in her rearview mirror as Grant parked his mother’s car behind hers in front of Greg’s apartment building. It was more run down than Ellie remembered it, and the security sucked. They walked right into the vestibule where the mailboxes were and waited for someone to walk out the locked door. According to the numbers on the mailbox, Greg lived on the first floor.

Grant’s Aunt Karen answered the door when they knocked, seemingly surprised to see them. “Hello, Grant, Ellie, how nice to see you. Greg’s resting right now, he’ll be sorry he missed you.”

“We thought we’d see if you needed anything. I imagine there’s no food here after Greg’s been in the hospital for so long. If you want, we can sit with Greg while you run to the store and pick up a few things.”

“That’s sweet of you. I brought more food than we can eat from Sue’s, but there are some staples I could use.”

“Here, Aunt Karen, use Mom’s car.” Grant handed her the keys. “You’ve been cooped up in the hospital for weeks. It might be nice to get out for a bit.”

“Oh, I don’t mind,” she said, but she eyed the keys. “I do need to refill my prescription though, and it’d be nice to have some of the soap and lotion I like.”

“Then go, we’ll hold down the fort, no problem,” Ellie said with a reassuring smile.

“If you’re sure. Greg should sleep for a while yet.”

“Then you should take advantage of it,” Grant put the keys in her hand and folded her fingers over them.

“Let me just get my bag. If the line’s too long at the pharmacy, I’ll come back.”

“Take all the time you need,” Grant said.

They waited until the Camry had pulled into traffic before Grant crossed to Greg’s bedroom.

“Wakey, wakey, Greg. I’ve got some questions that need answers.”

Grant kicked the foot of the bed and Greg sprung up, then clutched his side and kind of wilted back down. “Huh? What’s going on? What are you doing here? Where’s my mom?”

“She went out shopping for a bit. You have some ’splaining to do.” Grant loomed over the bed.

Ellie kept out of the way. She’d stay close in case Grant had any money questions, but interrogating Greg was definitely not her area of expertise.

“Like what?” Greg asked.

“Like where’d you get a hundred grand?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“Now that’s where you’re wrong. When you put my family at risk, it’s completely my business.”

“You don’t understand. I can’t say anything. They’ll kill me!”

“Who, Greg? Who will kill you?”

Greg clamped his lips closed as if preventing the words from coming out of his mouth. He reached for the pain medicine on the side of the bed, but Grant got it first and held it out of reach.

“I want answers, and you’re not taking one of these feel-good pills until you give me some.”

“Come on, man. I’m in a lot of pain. I need those meds.”

“Then you better talk fast.”

Greg stared at the pills like they were the last life boat on the Titanic. Sweat beaded up on his forehead and he opened his mouth a few times before finally saying, “I had it all figured out, but it went to shit.”

“What did? What’s really going on?”

Greg’s eyes shifted to the side, not meeting Grant’s gaze. Grant pressed a thumb against his side near the knife wound. “The truth or I’m flushing these pills down the toilet.”

Ellie winced at the steel in Grant’s face. He was not messing around and Greg knew it. Her hands were shaking and she hadn’t even done anything wrong.

“I have a buddy who works at customs. He has a buddy in Mexico who works at the packaging plant where the parts get shipped from. We came up with this plan.”

“To bring drugs into the country. I fucking knew it.”

“Not a lot, and not heroine or anything like that. Just some coke. I didn’t do anything but put certain boxes in the storage container, that’s it, nothing dangerous.”

“If it wasn’t dangerous, why’d you end up in the hospital?”

Greg pulled at his lanky ponytail, as if struggling to find the words. Grant shook the pill bottle to get his attention.

“My job was just to get the marked boxes and store them in the shed out back. The guy from Mexico had family here who would collect the boxes and leave me cash.”

“So what happened?” Ellie asked softly, her heart breaking for the Andersons.

“Greg got greedy, that’s what happened. Isn’t that right?”

A chill ran down her spine at the anger in Grant’s voice.

“I only took a little from each shipment. How would they know how much was in each box?”

“But they did know, didn’t they?”

“Yes! And they want their shit back, but I don’t have it.”

“What did you do with it?”

Greg looked even sicker than before. “I used some to pay off a debt I owed. Some of it I sold, and I had a big-ass party with the rest.”

“I hope it was worth going to jail for,” Grant said, pulling out his cell phone.

“You can’t call the cops. These guys have people everywhere. If I go to jail, I won’t last a day. Come on, Grant. If you won’t help me, think of my mom. I’m all she’s got left.”

“How much were you thinking of her when you decided to take a business your father worked his whole life to build and destroy it? Were you thinking of her when you decided to skim a little off the top? What if the cops had found the cocaine in the store? That would have made her real proud.”

“I fucked up, big time. I know that.”

“Ya think?”

“I know, I know, but you have to help me. They won’t stop with just coming after me. They’ll go after my mom and Aunt Sue and you and even her.” He pointed at Ellie. “You wouldn’t have figured it out without her help, and now she knows too much.”

“Fuck!” Grant paced in front of the bed, anger rolling off him in waves. “Would you be willing to turn on your friend in customs? DEA might be willing to deal if you give them a dirty inspector.”

“Can’t I just name the Mexicans?”

“Do you want to go to jail or not?”

“Fine, fine. I’ll name names, sing like a canary, as long as they can protect me.”

“You disgust me,” Grant said as he tossed the pills at Greg’s chest and stalked to the door. “I’m going to call my contact, hopefully he hasn’t made it back to Atlanta already.” He looked at Ellie. “Will you stay here and make sure he doesn’t call anyone?”

“Of course,” she answered.

“I’m sorry to have gotten you involved in this.”

“You didn’t. Go, call your friend. The sooner you can make a deal, the safer we’ll all be.”

Grant reached out as if to stroke her cheek but let his hand drop before he made contact. He turned on his heel and stormed off toward the kitchen.

Whatever was in those pain pills worked fast, because only ten minutes later, Greg was looking glassy eyed and dopey. “How’d you figure it out? I was careful to spread the payments out,” he asked, slurring his words a little.

“The numbers didn’t add up. Numbers don’t lie.”

“You and your fucking numbers. It must be like fucking an adding machine with you.”

“You’ll never know,” Ellie responded. Coming from someone like him, the insult was less than nothing.

She wandered over to the window. Even a view of the crummy street was better than looking at him. Greg was babbling now, something about Grant playing Superman and coming to the rescue. For a guy who’d just begged for help, he didn’t sound all that grateful.

Cars zipped by on the busy street. Her beat-up Nissan fit right in with the rest of the rundown cars parked in front of the building. She’d better keep an eye out for Aunt Karen and run interference so she didn’t come back in the middle of negotiations.

A huge SUV with tinted windows and gleaming chrome wheels drove slowly past the apartment building. Something about the dark windows made her nervous. She wasn’t one to believe in clichés or stereotypes, but that vehicle was way too nice for this neighborhood. It wasn’t until it turned the corner that she felt the tension ease from her shoulders.

“Tony’s on his way back, but he’s still forty-five minutes or more away. He wants us to stay put until he can get a team together. Fingering the customs agent is the only thing saving your ass right now,” Grant said, coming back into the room.

“It’s too fine an ass to be in jail,” Greg muttered.

“What’s up with him?”

“He took his pain pills. I’m pretty certain he’s no longer feeling any pain,” Ellie said.

“Hope he enjoys it now. Once he’s in police custody, he’ll be singing a different tune.”

“Will the DEA seize the store?”

“I don’t know. Tony doesn’t think so, but it’s up to the prosecutor. We’ll have to submit everything for evidence. The next few weeks are going to be tough for everyone.”

“That’s an understatement.”

“The only easy day was yesterday.”

“Thanks. That little gem makes everything better.” Ellie sniffed. “Your poor parents.”

“They’ll survive. They have each other.”

“Yup. They have each other to lean on. It helps to have a partner when things are bad.” She didn’t add
idiot
, but she wanted to. Why couldn’t he see that they were better, stronger, when they worked together?

“Ellie, you know I care about you.”

“You have a funny way of showing it.” She walked into the living room before she said something she’d regret.

“I’m doing the right thing. The smart thing,” Grant said, following her out of Greg’s room.

“Shouldn’t you be making sure he doesn’t call anyone and warn them?”

“I took his phone.” He held it up. “Not that he’d be able to figure out how to dial in his current state, but why take chances?”

“Oh, no, we shouldn’t take any chances. God forbid.”

“Damn it, I
won’t
take chances with you. Don’t you understand? I finally found something good in my life. I’m not going to see it destroyed by my issues.”

“So you’ll destroy it outright? And what about me? Don’t I have any say in this?
I
wasn’t freaked out by what happened. I didn’t tell you to leave.”

“You should have. You were crying.”

“Because I was worried about you, you freaking moron! I hated that you had to go through hell even once, forget again and again in your mind. I wasn’t afraid of you. Not for one second was I afraid of you.”

Grant didn’t say anything for a while and Ellie took advantage of the silence to pull herself together. Aunt Karen could come back any second and she was yelling at him like a fish wife.

“You might have a point. I’m not saying you’re right, but I may need to rethink some things.” He turned to face her, and for once, his confusion, his love and even his fear were clear on his face for her to read. She took heart that he was letting his emotions show. It was a tiny chink in his armor, but it was a chink nonetheless.

“Don’t give up on me, okay?” he said.

“I don’t give up easily.” She ran to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her face to his chest and just breathing in his scent.

For a moment, he did nothing, but when he did return her hug, he almost squeezed the air right out of her lungs. “I’ve really missed holding you,” he said, his voice hoarse.

“I’ve missed being held.”

“Maybe once this latest mess is figured out, we could grab some barbeque?”

“I’d like tha—”

Before she could finish, the front door slammed open and two men burst into the room flashing skinny blades like they knew what they were doing with them.

“Where is he? Give us the
carbon
and no one gets hurt,” the taller of the two men said.

Grant pushed Ellie behind him, handing her his phone. Her hands shook so badly, she almost dropped it. The shorter man moved toward the bedroom door and Grant slid over and cut him off.

“I’d happily turn over the motherfucker, but that would upset my aunt, so sorry, he’s not going anywhere.”

Ellie couldn’t believe Grant was actually talking to them. They had knives. This was a matter for the police, not them.

So maybe you should call the police on the phone he slipped to you, idiot.

As soon as Ellie thought about it, she almost looked down at the phone hidden by her leg and gave away its presence. As unobtrusively as possible, she dialed 9-1-1 and put the phone on mute. She wouldn’t be able to give the operator any directions, but hopefully, they’d figure it out from the phone signal.

The tall one snapped out an order to the smaller one in Spanish and they both rushed toward Grant. Ellie searched for something to use as a weapon, but Greg’s apartment was practically bare. The two intruders circled Grant, feinting lightning-quick flicks of their knives down toward Grant’s stomach.

Grant had his knees bent and seemed to be waiting for them to commit before he did anything. The two men spoke to each other in Spanish, and Ellie knew they were nerving themselves up for the attack. She wanted to run to the kitchen to find a weapon there, but she was afraid of distracting Grant.

Besides, she wasn’t sure her shaking legs would make it there before collapsing beneath her. The smaller man lunged, aiming for Grant’s abdomen while the taller man tried to get behind him. Grant lashed out a kick, knocking the taller man back even as he grabbed the smaller man’s wrist and twisted it in ways nature didn’t intend. The man fell to the floor, clutching his arm to his chest and swearing in Spanish. The knife fell to the floor and Grant kicked it across the room, out of reach.

The taller man had recovered from the kick way faster than Ellie thought possible. He and Grant circled each other, waiting for an opening. Ellie bit her knuckle so she wouldn’t scream or whimper. Why had she taken up yoga instead of karate? If she knew one damn thing about the martial arts, she could take the guy out from behind. Hell, if Greg had a decent lamp or bookend or even a darn broomstick, she could hit him over the head, but no such luck.

Wait. The knife.
Where had it gone when Grant kicked it? She kept a wary eye on Grant and the other man while she searched for the glittering blade. Taking tiny, sliding steps, she eased around the couch until she spotted the knife by the kitchen area. Little by little, she inched her way over there, trying to be as quiet as possible and not draw attention to herself. For once, her ability to disappear should come in handy.