Relief swamped her. It was Noah who held her close and moved her toward the rear emergency exit.
“Where’s Meghan?” she had to ask.
“If she’s smart, already out of here.” Noah bulldozed his way through the crowd toward the rear exit, away from the melee in the front of the building.
Following his steps, her left heel sank into something soft, squishy. It could only be one thing. “Stop! Damn it! Stop!” She beat at the unforgiving arm holding her.
“No. I’m getting you out of here.” His arm tightened.
“There’s someone on the floor. I can’t just leave them.” For all she knew, it was Tori being trampled to death. She couldn’t walk away. She wouldn’t. His arm loosened, and he shifted in front of her and backtracked. Kensley fisted the back of his sweater, grateful for his presence, and together they fought the tide to the exit. They hadn’t gone far. A handful of steps and Noah stopped. Kensley squeezed around him, her foot brushing something solid.
She dropped down as Noah shoved people away. It was a man, unconscious and bleeding from his mouth and temple. She pressed her fingers to his throat, searching for his carotid. She felt the steady throb, but his breathing was ragged and rattled in his chest, probably from a punctured lung. He needed a hospital.
Gunfire filled the air. Suddenly, she was plastered face down to the floor with Noah’s solid body on top of her. “Oh, God! Are you hit?” She shoved at him to see, but he wouldn’t budge. A ton of muscle pinned her to the sticky floor. More gunfire and Noah wrapped an arm around her waist and hauled her behind an overturned table.
As soon as they stopped moving, she spun in his arms and grabbed him, her fingers tight on his shoulder, then moved to his neck, and onto his face, then back to his shoulders. Her gaze followed her hands, accessing every square inch she could touch and see.
“I’m good, Kensley,” his voice a low rumble.
She managed a sharp nod, then buried her head in his chest and plastered herself to his body. She’d never been more terrified in her life. His arm tightened around her. That’s when she realized she was trembling. No, she was shaking worse than a leaf in a hurricane.
He captured her face between his rough palms and forced her to meet his chestnut-colored eyes. “Shh. You’re okay. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”
The steadiness of his voice, coupled with his fierce expression, calmed her, enabled her to take a deep breath. “You’re not?” she wheezed.
His fingers dug into her shoulders, grounding her. “No. Nothing will happen to you. I swear. I won’t let it.”
And she believed him. How could she not when his calm certainty seeped into her. Whatever happened in the bar, she would leave here in one piece. Noah would make sure of it.
“We’re gonna stay low and head for the rear.” He took her hand and started to move.
“But—But.” Her legs wouldn’t cooperate. They’d jellied beneath her. Besides, she couldn’t leave the injured man. “Can’t we wait for the police?”
Sirens wailed in the distance as if on cue. The police station was only three blocks away. So why the fuck did it seem like it’d been an hour since she’d been huddled behind the table. Gunshots fired outside the building, causing a backflow of frantic bodies. People screamed, pushed.
“Maybe.” He peered around the edge of the table. She peered with him. Some guy had a gun pressed to Perry’s head as Perry opened the cash register. He wasn’t a local, at least no one she recognized from the town.
Perry retrieved the wad of cash he’d placed inside earlier and handed it over. He saw an opportunity and grabbed for the gun. It went off. Was he hit? She had no idea, regardless, Perry kept fighting.
Noah lunged to his feet. Kensley latched onto his sweater and wouldn’t let go. “What do you think you’re doing?” she cried, aghast he’d put himself in danger.
“Stay down,” he ordered. “I’ll be back.” He pried her hand off his shirt and took off before she could stop him.
Eyes glued to Noah, she watched him keep low to the ground, scoop up a two by four piece of a broken chair and a bottle of Jack from the floor. “Hey!” he yelled, drawing the thief’s attention away from Perry. Noah threw the bottle first. The thief ducked. Noah followed up with the two by four that nailed the guy in the chest and glanced off Perry’s head. Perry went down, the thief crashed into the glass shelving lining the back wall. In a slick move, Noah vaulted over the bar, skidded across the polished top, and landed between the thief and Perry.
The thief raised the gun. Noah grabbed his hand and yanked it up. The gun went off. Noah got two punches into the guy’s face, wrapped his hand around the guy’s neck, and yanked his head down at the same time he brought his knee up. Once. Twice. Perry’s would-be robber went down while Noah snatched the gun out of his hand.
The entire thing happened between one blink and the next. She’d never seen anyone move that fast.
Handling the weapon like an expert, he released the clip and checked the chamber. Before he could do anything else, the door burst open and in rushed the police.
“Everyone freeze!”
“Drop the weapon! Get your hands up!”
“Get down on the ground.”
Half the people still inside the bar froze, the other half hit the ground. She was of the former half, opting out of returning to the filthy floor.
Noah froze.
Mick, her old high school boyfriend, now an officer of the law, raced over with two other officers and took Noah down, hard. They kicked his legs out from under him and knocked him to the ground. Rather, Noah let them knock him down amidst the broken glass and spilled liquor. One officer jammed a knee into the small of his back while another twisted his arms around to handcuff him.
Kensley understood why they had to. A man with a gun standing over two unconscious men with an open cash register, yeah, she would’ve formed the wrong idea also. Still, all that rationale didn’t stop her from losing it. She flew across the room and launched herself into Mick. “You asshole. He didn’t start this! Eric did. And he disarmed that asshole on the floor.”
“Kensley, what the hell!” Mick grabbed her and dragged her away while his fellow officer finished handcuffing a compliant Noah. “I could have you arrested!” He shook her.
“Then do it because you are not taking him out of here in handcuffs!” She yanked away from Mick, but the skinny kid she’d dated in high school had filled out. So, she shoved him. Both hands to the center of his chest and got nowhere. He wasn’t as tall as Noah or as broad. However, Mick’s stocky frame was solid, no doubt aided by the bulletproof vest under his clothing. Hands on his utility belt, he glared holy hell at her. And had every right.
She was being irrational and ridiculous and not helping the situation. “I’m sor—”
“Arrest that woman. No one assaults my officers.” At some point during the fiasco, the sheriff stepped inside the bar, all three hundred pounds of him.
“Arrest me! For what?” She demanded, closing the distance between them even with Mick in the middle.
“Miss Jacobs, I saw you shove my officer, and that is something I will not tolerate. My officers will be respected.”
Fine! She bit her lip to keep from making it worse, then gave a mental Fuck it. “Eric assaulted me.” She jabbed her thumb into her chest. “He grabbed me and tried to drag me out of the bar. That’s what started the brawl. Are you gonna arrest him?” She folded her arms and waited. Not patiently by the uncontrollable tapping of her foot.
The sheriff glanced around the bar. His salt and pepper eyebrows were as bushy as his salt and pepper mustache. No need for a surname. He knew exactly which Eric she spoke of. “I don’t see Eric. Anyone here see Eric?” No one answered because, except for them, the bar had emptied. “I didn’t see Eric assault you. So, no. He will not be arrested.”
“So once again, you protect the banker’s son,” she spat. “The guy sponsoring your reelection.” Some things never changed.<
br />
Grim-faced, he did not like her reply. “We’re taking everyone down to the station and sorting everything out.” His hand rested on the butt of his gun.
“Arrest Eric and the thief on the floor. That’ll sort everything out,” she yelled as Mick spun her around, and cold steel circled her wrists. This is really happening! Dumbfounded, she angled her head around and glared at Mick.
“You have the right to remain silent, Kensley. Take my advice and do so,” he said as he led her out of the bar and into the glare of flashing lights and a camera from the local news station.
Fourteen
“No. No!” Joseph Morretti, second in command to his brother Lonnie Morretti underboss and nephew to jailed and recently deceased Alfredo Morretti boss of the Italian mob, screamed in anguish.
“No!” Joseph pressed his hand to the bullet hole on Lonnie’s chest. Blood seeped beneath his palm, first a trickle, then a red river. “Don’t you die on me!” he ordered, but his older brother never took orders from anyone. Today wouldn’t be any different.
“Simple mission. Simple mission! That’s what you said.” He wanted to beat the shit out of him, but it was too late for that.
Lonnie clutched Joseph’s hand, the hand over his heart. His mouth opened, and a whisper of words escaped. Joseph leaned closer to catch the words.
“Find it.” The words were nothing more than a wet gurgle, then his chest heaved a final time and…nothing.
Joseph tightened his hold on his brother’s body, and as his brown eyes dulled and the fluttering of his heart struggling to regain its rhythm ceased. His body slackened. His brother was gone. Killed by a fat, middle-aged survivalist with bad teeth and a receding hairline. The new boss of the family was dead.
“All you had to do was let us search the house, you backwater piece of shit.” Brandan shoved his nine-millimeter into the homeowner’s mouth.
“S-sorry,” the dead man walking choked around the barrel.
Sorry. Gently, Joseph lay his brother on the once pristine, now bloody snow-covered ground. “Sorry.” The fresh sorrow of his brother’s passing morphed into an all-consuming rage. “Sorry?”
Joseph entered the house. The place stunk of piss and shit and rotted food. He figured the piss and shit came from two bloodhounds locked in cages occupying the right side of the room. Well, he hoped it only came from the dogs. The owner loved his animals. He loved them enough to make sure they had beds, toys, fresh water and food in decorative bowls and were well-groomed. Though caged, by the state of the house, it was probably for their protection not as a punishment.
Yeah, he loved his animals. Maybe he loved them as much as Joseph loved his brother.
Joseph emptied his gun into both cages. You take from me. I take from you.
“Why did you do that?” Brandan shouted, staring at the cages. “Those dogs didn’t do anything. They deserved better than their owner.
He loved them, so they had to die.
Joseph knocked his younger brother away. The gun popped out of the man’s mouth along with his two front teeth. Joseph replaced the gun with his foot. He planted his size twelves in the piece of shit’s face. Over and over again. Each kicked was done in remembrance of his brother. Each sharp crack of bones shattering, a balm to his destroyed soul. He didn’t stop until brain matter splattered the walls and himself.
It took a moment for him to recognize the hands pulling him off the mangled body. Then another moment for him to realize he had his gun out and pressed to Brandan’s temple. Another for his heart rate to slow and the blood pounding in his eardrums to ebb.
Pauly Sisto came out of a backroom held up the torn papers from an accounting ledger locked in a Ziploc bag. “Found them!” He ran up to Joseph like a kid on December twenty-seventh who’d discovered a forgotten present. “Look! It has the other half of the banking numbers. We have the accounts. Now, all we need are the passwords.”
Joseph jammed the empty gun under Pauly’s chin. “You think I give a shit about that when my brother is dead!”
Pauly trembled, his eyes saucers and wet from tears gathering. “I-I didn’t know. I swear. I didn’t. I w-was doing what Lonnie told me. W-what I’m supposed to, you know, get in and find the numbers while you guys take care of the bodies. Right? That’s what I’m supposed to do.” His gaze shifted to Brandan for help, but Brandan was at the cages, petting the dead animals.
“Help,” Pauly whispered.
Brandan cursed under his breath and came over. Carefully, as if knowing the precarious ledge Joseph balanced upon, Brandan touched Joseph’s shoulder and squeezed. That’s all that was needed to save Pauly’s life. Plus, they needed him. His only purpose was to get them access to the money Uncle Alfredo had stashed. Money in separate accounts all over the world. Money the FBI couldn’t get too. But the only living relatives of Alfredo Morretti could.
Five years of building trust and coded messages and a final death bed confession to lock the last piece of the puzzle into place brought them the last pages of Uncle Alfredo’s accounting ledger and his brother’s death. Joseph’s heart said the price was too high, though not according to Lonnie’s last words. His brother wanted the money for the prestige it would bring, not just the monetary gain, because with all the pages of the ledger intact, also came the secrets. Who owed who and the circles they ran in. Info like that was better than gold. It was power.
Joseph dropped his arm, removing the threat from Pauly and Joseph’s higher goals. He returned to his brother’s body and crumpled in a graceless fall, not caring who saw, who judged. He removed his special cold gear, winter gloves, and the latex gloves they wore as extra protection against leaving fingerprints.
Lonnie’s flesh was cold, already tinged blue. “Lonnie,” Joseph whispered in his brother’s ear, knowing there wouldn’t be an answer. “You shouldn’t have done it. Today was my day to die. Not yours.”
But worse than that. Now it was up to him to find the passwords, steal his uncle’s money and leadership of the Morretti clan. Without the money, they’d have no leverage, and with no leverage, their lives wouldn’t amount to shit.
Make that my life.
“We have to go. Someone could’ve heard the shots.” Brandan stood nearby. His tread silent, even in the snow. In his hands, a roll of tarp pulled from the trunk of their Tahoe. Without asking, he knew Lonnie’s body was coming with them.
Together they rolled Lonnie in the tarp while Pauly examined the pages. Lazy fucker. The second he wasn’t needed…
By the time they had Lonnie secured in the trunk of the SUV, flurries danced in the air, soon joined by many others. At least that worked in their favor.
“Do we burn it?” Brandan tipped his head toward the house.
The cabin was isolated by distance and terrain, also off the grid. A generator for power, no cellphone signal. No internet connection. Not even a TV. The nearest neighbors were five miles away. The nearest town, ten. It hadn’t been easy getting up the mountain to the location. Adding snow to the environment made the descent twice as dangerous.
Joseph returned to the house. He ignored the trash and concentrated on the lack of personal details. No family pictures on the walls. No feminine touches such as knickknacks, decorative pillows, hell, not even curtains covered the windows.
He opened the dog cages and turned. Brandan was right behind him, a brow raised in question. “No one’s coming to check on him. We leave it open. By the time anyone notices he’s missing, the animals would’ve cleaned up for us.”
“You hope,” Brandan murmured.
True enough. “Either way, we’ve left no prints.”
Except Lonnie’s blood soaked the ground. Joseph got a shovel. No part of his brother would be left behind.
An hour later, Joseph tossed himself into the passenger seat, beyond exhausted. Behind him, in the back seat, Pauly studied the recovered pages.
Brandan got in and slammed the door behind him. He cranked the engine, sending lukewarm air through the inter
ior.
“Why did he shoot without even seeing who we were? He didn’t even say ‘Who’s there?” Joseph asked no one in particular.
Brandan shrugged and dragged his wool cap off his head. He mashed on the gas pedal, revving the engine.
“Fool probably thought we were FBI or ATF. He had a weapons stash in the second bedroom. Probably thought the government had come for him.” Pauly didn’t look up from the pages.
Seemed likely enough, but Joseph kept his thoughts to himself.
Brandan carefully rolled out of the driveway. “Where are we burying Lonnie?”
That took some thought. With the ground frozen, it couldn’t be anywhere near, and it couldn’t wait. “Head south. We’ll take him to the compound in Florida. We’ll bury him there then fly back east,” Joseph said.
Brandan nodded and slowed to take a bend. “Two houses left to check, right?”
“Yeah,” Pauly answered eagerly. “The house in the Poconos and in Sessory Corners.”
“Two more, and we’ll have the passwords. Two more and you’re head of the family.” Brandan navigated the icy road.
Joseph nodded. “After Sessory Corners, all of our plans will come true.”
Just without my brother.
Fifteen
Kensley had never touched a set of handcuffs, never mind had a pair around her wrists. She’d thought about buying a fuzzy pair for her honeymoon, you know, to spice things up, throw some kink into the usual missionary. Without the fuzz, cold metal frosted her skin.
She’d never been in the back of a police car either. What a surprise, it wasn’t a pleasant experience. Duct tape held the cracked seat together, though not completely. Something scraped the back of her knee. The rear smelled like week-old vomit and something else equally as foul. Something she couldn’t decipher, and as a nurse, she’d smelled a lot of foul things.
“You shouldn’t’ve done that, Kensley,” Mick said from the front seat.
Yeah, like she didn’t already know that. The handcuffs would’ve been a big clue. Pushing Mick in front of the sheriff was a bad idea. “I’m sorry. I lost my head.” She hadn’t been that angry since the engagement party. “What’s gonna happen now?”
If I Love You Page 11
