Page 28 of Brooklyn Bratva

It was her civic duty. New York was one detective down, because I was out of action. All my thoughts were on her, and I was wandering around half-hard at just the thought of her. I needed to make sure she knew I really meant everything I’d put into that kiss.

It was coming up on five when the burner vibrated in my jacket pocket.

6.30. Usual place.

I cursed. There was no way I’d make it to pick Becca up like I’d said I would and be back in time to make the drop. Not without dragging her headlong into all of this and that was something I wasn’t prepared to do. No matter how blue my balls were becoming.

This could be my only chance of tracing the link back to the people who were trying to muscle in on the area. If I let it go, I’d kiss my chance goodbye at pulverizing whoever had set Jerome and his buddy on Becca. And the chance to nip it in the bud would disappear. If they got away with this, there would be more schemes up and running before I knew it. I was already behind the ball here and I didn’t like it. There was an invader on my turf right when I wanted as little as possible to distract me from Becca.

The faster I uprooted the weed, the better.

I pocketed the phone again. 6:30 it was. I’d make it up to Becca. And myself.

Decision made, I pulled out my own cell, only to realize I didn’t have Becca’s number. As soon as I saw her again, I would remedy that, but for the time being, all I could do was call the clinic.

“Good afternoon, Brighton Beach Health Center, how can I help you?”

“Hi. I got a message for Becca. Tell her I’m not going to make it to meet her after work. Something came up.”

“And who am I speaking with? You better not be that hunk of a man sucking her face off on the doorstep this morning. That’s a fast turn around, and I don’t think she needs to be hanging around with someone who’s going to stand her up right at the last minute.”

“Listen lady, it’s not your concern. Becca knows what I do is important. I would be there if it was possible. Tell her I will see her later.”

“Who am I telling her is seeing her later? I’m no psychic, Sir.”

“Ivan Kovalenko.”

“Well that’s better Mr. Kovalenko. Now I can tell her something sensible instead of some garbled something about some man not meeting her.”

“Detective Kovalenko. Just do it. And take my number down. Give it to her.”

“Yes Sir.”

Scowling, I hung up as soon as I relayed my number to the woman on the other end of the phone. She seemed as though she thought that Becca’s life was already her business and I despised women like that. What was between me and Becca was no one else’s business.

If Becca got the impression I’d changed my mind about meeting her because I was having second thoughts, it would only come from that woman. And I would take revenge.

All I wanted to do was take her somewhere we could be alone and really get to know her as the woman she’d become. But that was going to have to wait.

CHAPTER 13

Ivan

Leaning against the metal railings at the edge of the boardwalk, I looked out across the flat expanse of sand that lead down to the water, letting my eyes scout in each direction across the beach. The sea stretched wide in front of me, the waves racing in over the shallows. In the summer the sand baked, heating up the water enough for swimming. Just as long as you didn’t mind the trash.

Off season it was less crowded on the sand.

Behind me there were so many stalls selling brightly colored odds and ends. Hot sugar and oil wafted through the air. Batter from donuts and corndogs, cotton candy, ice cream cones and bright blue slushies all mingled into the unmistakable smell that I’d learned accompanied the fairground glitz of Coney Island’s Luna Park. It might have been just a walk away, but Brighton Beach was more sedate.

This place had more youth, more bustle. More through and through Americans taking in the sea air and getting angry about the gulls. The soundtrack of arcades and fairground rides, flashing lights and music blaring would last well into the night and it meant nobody was going to notice anything at all.

But I would.

From my place here, I could see the agreed location. A little further towards Brighton Beach, In front of the aquarium where there was a brightly colored fish on the wall, and a lamppost by the tail fin, steps stretched down to the grubby sand.

Jerome’s instructions were simple enough.

Leave the bag under the steps.

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