Tap Dance (Dance Series)

chapter Twenty Eight



Ram and I were officially back together. We were both still holding some hurt, but we were working through it one day at a time.

He still wasn't sleeping well at all and it showed in his exhausted eyes and the set of his shoulders. I didn't know what was in his head that was keeping him from sleeping, but he needed to get it out and deal with it.

It was these thoughts circling around my head as I was sorting my clothes for the laundry. How to get Ram back on track, how to be as comfortable together as we used to be, when my buzzer for the front door rang.

"Yes?"

"Marianne?" a deep, honey-smooth voice asked.

"Who is this?"

"Niko. May I come in?"

Oh, hello. No.

First of all I wasn't 'dressed to receive' as my Grandma Gibson would say. I was wearing an old pair of jeans that sagged around my hipbones with a v-neck t-shirt and no bra. Hair a curly, curly mess, pulled up and off my face.

"I'm sorry, Niko. I'm kind of busy."

"I know this is unexpected, but I wanted to see you."

He wasn't kidding when he said he was persistent.

F*ck.

"I'll be right out." I grabbed my keys and shoved them into my back pocket.

I opened the heavy outside door and pulled it shut behind me.

Niko was standing, legs braced and arms crossed, looking so good it should be illegal. His faded and frayed jeans hugged his thighs, dipping slightly around his firm stomach. He had paired the jeans with an old 'Alice in Chains' t-shirt pulled tight around his biceps. I dragged my eyes up to his face. His black messy hair, electric blue eyes and killer smile filled my vision.

He looked like sin, standing on my porch at nine in the morning.

Niko took a couple of steps forward, snagged my hand, and again brought it to his lips, his eyes straight on mine.

Day-yum.

You'd think, having him pull the sexy kiss your hand thingie a few times, you'd get used to it, right?

Nope.

"So, 'Man in a Box', huh?" I asked just to have something to say.

"Sorry?"

"Your t-shirt. Alice in Chains?"

He smiled and ran his thumb over my knuckles, which did funny things to my insides.

"I only bought the t-shirt because I liked the print," he said with a challenging gleam in his eye. "You know of their music?"

"Well, yeah," I replied in my 'no, duh' tone.

We were quiet and I watched his eyes roam from my messy hair, down my body to my bare feet.

"You are very beautiful, Dusho Moja," he said softly.

I wanted to turn around to see who he was talking to, but his eyes burned into mine.

"Ah, thanks," I mumbled.

Shit.

"And you are beautifully frustrating as well. I will keep trying, though. Will you have dinner with me tonight?"

"Uhm, Niko? You know I'm a lot older than you, right?"

"Isn't there an American saying that age is just a number?"

Shit.

He took another step forward and raised my hand in the middle of his chest.

"I've told you I'm seeing someone," I stated firmly.

"But 'seeing someone' is not married, correct?"

How could someone look sexy when they're smirking?

Damn.

"I'm sorry. I'm busy tonight."

His smile dropped just a little when he replied, "And I am sorry that you are busy tonight."

He used his hand to cover mine still planted on his chest.

"I like you playing, how do you say it? Hard to get? Is that right?" The sexy dimple was starting to make an appearance.

"I'm not playing hard to get, Niko. I don't want to go out with you. I am seeing someone else."

He was quiet, his head down stroking my arm between us.

"If you were not 'seeing someone', you would have dinner with me?" He asked softly.

No, boyo.

If I wasn't seeing someone, someone pretty damn terrific, then you and I would be rolling around naked, making funny noises.

"Thanks for the invitation, though, Niko," I said equally soft. "I've got to get back to it. Thank you for coming by."

"Thank you, Marianne. I hope to see you soon."

I had opened up the outer door and was just crossing the threshold when it occurred to me.

"Niko! Where'd you get my address?"

"Pardon?"

"How did you know where I live?"

He shot me that slow, sexy smile. And waved.

Those jeans would probably be illegal in most States and 47 foreign countries.



*.*.*.*.*

I was still puttering around my apartment, when I realized I was really bothered by Niko's impromptu visit. Sure, I was flattered by his attention, but I'd not given him any indication I would ever go out with him.

Persistence is one thing.

But there's a line when it becomes stalking. Having Niko show up at my house and not tell me how he knew where I lived was raising a big red flag for me.

I called Ram and left a voicemail saying I needed to talk with him.

Actually, I needed to talk with him about a few things.

Niko being one.

Steve and the CDs being two.



*.*.*.*.*

"The background check on Steve Quinlan shows that he went to U of C/Grantham from 2001 to 2005, was married to Marianne Gibson from 2006 to 2008 and moved to Oklahoma City where he worked from 2008 until 2010. It was in 2010 that he moved to New Mexico and worked exclusively for the Milosevic family," Agent Grant said to the room at large.

They were in the bullpen at the police station and Agent Grant had asked to meet with the Grantham P.D. detectives and their Chief.

Everyone had their notepads out and were scribbling the information almost as fast as it was said.

"He was married to Marianne?" Paul asked, looking around at the others in the room.

Ram had carefully schooled his face after those words had been said. He hadn't known she'd been married before. And, it appeared, no one else did either.

"Yes, Detective, from 2006 to 2008."

"Are the Milosevics he worked with any relation to the ones here?" Tim asked.

"Yes, our research shows there were five brothers who immigrated from Serbia. Between the five of them, they represent a crime family that controls the entire West Coast as well as Arizona, Utah, Colorado and New Mexico."

Agent Grant looked around the bullpen as he popped his cuffs.

Ram thought the man was ridiculously over-dressed for an investigation in this part of the country. Always a suit, white shirt with french cuffs and a tie. And he was fond of popping those cuffs, yanking them down to lay perfectly straight against his wrists.

"Goran Milosevic and his sons Niko and Stojan control Colorado and Utah from here in Grantham. Drago Milosevic, along with his sons, control New Mexico and Arizona."

"We are aware of Goran and Niko, but I've haven't heard of a Stojan," Ted Pierson said his eyebrows lifted as he glanced at the other detectives. All of them shook their heads.

"We believe that Stojan's base is in Denver." Agent Freeman answered.

Agent Grant continued, "Our sources said Steve Quinlan's job was in jeopardy since he was privy to all the financial dealing of the New Mexico/Arizona business and had asked one too many questions to one too many people. He abruptly fell off the radar in late March. At first, we assumed that he was taken out by someone in the Milosevic camp. But his personal financial records show he was on the move and has popped up a couple of times in different western states. One of the trails we found showed he has been in and out of Grantham for the last couple of weeks."

"You think he's been in contact with Marianne?" Paul asked.

Ram's thoughts had gone that exact same direction and his stomach clenched.

"I think it’s a distinct possibility and I will be interviewing her later today or tomorrow," Agent Grant replied. "Are there any other questions? You have Steve Quinlan's picture and you need to be on the lookout for him. It is very important that we bring Mr. Quinlan in since we're sure that he has information that could bring down Drago Milosevic. Thank you for your time."

Agent Grant followed Ram into his office.

"I'd like to be there when you interview Marianne Gibson," Ram said settling into his chair.

Agent Grant just looked at him.

Ram waited.

"It has also come to our attention that you have been seen with Ms. Gibson on several occasions," the Agent finally said. "I think it's best if you hang back for now."

Ram thought that through and decided he would've said the same thing to, say, Paul if he was in the Agent's shoes. He knew it was logical and he knew it was the right thing to do.

But, he didn't like it.

"Besides, I hear that she is pretty and can be quite the firecracker. I'm looking forward to meeting her."

Ram especially didn't like that, and he liked the shark smile on the Agent's face even less.



*.*.*.*.*

Ram listened to Marianne's voicemail wondering if he had time to see her before the Agents went to her house. He glanced at the clock. All Agent Grant had said was, 'today or tomorrow' for her interview.

He used his personal cellphone to make the call.

"Hey, Ram," she said softly into her phone and it was like a balm for his frayed nerves.

"Are you available for lunch, Pyari?"

"Sure, honey. When and where?"

"Your place in half an hour?"

"Sounds good. Are you picking something up or should I order in?"

"Call Red Dragon and I'll pick it up on my way," he said, trying to think of anything on his schedule that he'd need to move in order to spend time with her.

He wasn't even two steps through her door when she was in his arms. He lowered his head as he walked her backward so he could put the bags of food on the counter and greet her properly.

As their mouths fused, tongues wetly searching and finding each other, he held her the way she liked. His hand fisted in her hair and his arm tight around her waist, which produced her sexy mewls and full body wiggles.

He was instantly hard but remembered that his time was limited. He didn't think it would be a good idea for the Agents to show up when they were naked and enjoying each other.

Ram lifted his head.

"Damn, Pyari," he muttered against her mouth.

"Wow," she said breathily.

"May we call that a 'to be continued'?" he asked with a smile before moving to the Red Dragon bags.

"You better believe it," Marianne agreed moving to grab plates and utensils.

"What did you need to speak with me about?" Ram asked, removing his light windbreaker before sitting at the bar.

She glanced at him as she prepared the plates.

"There's this guy, almost a kid, that I met when I worked a shift for Greg. Nice enough guy, who has been asking me out. I've told him I won't go out with him numerous times then he showed up here this morning. Greg admits to giving him my phone number. But when he showed up here today, he wouldn't answer how he knew where I lived and it scared me," Marianne said placing a full plate in front of him.

"What's his name?"

"Niko."

Ram's whole body stilled, his fork still half way to his mouth.

"What, Ram?"

"Niko?"

"Yeah, that's what he told me," she said trying to think if she'd ever heard him say his last name.

"Niko Milosevic?" His voice was like steel, hard and deadly.

"I don't know," she said catching her lower lip in her teeth. "Paul said he knew him when I introduced them at Buxby's. Maybe Paul knows his last name?"

Ram reached for his cell. "Paul, that Niko guy that you saw with Marianne…"

"Yeah, Chief. Niko Milosevic. Made me sick to my stomach just to see his slimy hands on her."

Ram stood up from the barstool, so angry he couldn't sit down.

"Thanks, Paul."

"Do you know who Niko is, Marianne?"

"No," she whispered.

"He is one of the sons of Goran Milosevic. The Milosevic family are what you might call the Mafia, the Serbian Mafia. Niko is being groomed to take over the 'family business'."

"So, not a good guy?"

"No, Pyari, not a good guy at all," he glanced down at his plate before remembering the rest of Paul's sentence. "Why did he have his hands on you?"

He watched her blush as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"It's just this thing he does. Kisses the back of my hand," she said pushing her food around her plate.

"That's all he does?"

"He holds my hand over his heart after he's done kissing it," she mumbled.

Ram took a very deep breath. He didn't like the thought of anyone touching her even innocently. But for Niko f*cking Milosevic to touch her, or force her hand to touch him? That shit stops now.

"Please listen carefully, Pyari. If he calls, you don't answer. If he comes by, you don't answer. If he sees you out and about, you call me or Paul immediately. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she said looking up at him. "I'm sorry, honey."

"For what? You haven't done anything wrong and I'm sorry if I scared you but, it is important that you stay away from him. Okay?" Ram sat back down on the barstool and rubbed her back.

"Okay," she whispered leaning back against his hand.

Ram took another bite and was trying to think of a way to legally beat the shit out of Niko when he remembered she'd said there were two things she needed to talk with him about.

"What was the other thing, Pyari?"

"Oh, yeah," she said reluctantly.

He waited and watched as she moved more food around on her plate.

"Remember that Fed Ex envelope you picked up when we…the first time we went for a drive?"

He nodded.

"I was married before. His name is Steve Quinlan," she snuck a glance up at him before turning her eyes back to her plate. "We were married a short time, a long time ago."

He watched her swallow thickly.

"He's the one that sent the Fed Ex. I'd totally forgotten about it until he called and asked me to put the contents in my safe deposit box. There were five CDs in the envelope and all he will tell me is that by having them, they keep him safe."

"Where are they now, these CDs?" Ram said trying and failing to unclench his jaw.

"In my safe deposit box," she mumbled.

"Do you know what's on them?"

"No, Ram. I don't. I tried to find out both when he called me and then when he stopped by, but…"

"He's stopped by? What does that mean, Marianne?" He was trying to remain as calm but his every muscle was tense.

"Tha-that Saturday night, you know, of your dinner? I drove around for a while and ended up here at my apartment. He showed up around four in the morning."

"He showed up here?" Ram didn't even want to touch the subject of the dinner, why she didn't tell him of an ex-husband or even why her ex-husband would come to her apartment in the f*cking middle of the night. Those were things they would talk about later.

"Yeah. But he wouldn't tell me anything except that he had a 'situation' and that it had gotten a little out of hand. He said that those CDs were keeping him safe but wouldn't tell me from what or from who…" her voice trailed off. "I think he's in some really deep shit, Ram."

"He is, Pyari," Ram admitted.

He saw her head jerk towards him on his words.

"I can't tell you what I know, okay? But we need you to speak with Agent Grant about this. The only thing I can say is your ex-husband is being pursued by the Milosevics."

"You mean Niko?"

"Not necessarily, although family is family," Ram shrugged. He was going to have to think this through.

But first, he wanted to get Agent Grant on the phone so he could get his tight FBI ass over to Marianne's.

Didn't want Ram there for the interview?

Bullshit.