by ANDREA SMITH
Donovan said that several of the ‘non-Banion’ claimants were members of the OMC in Fort Wayne. One of the claimants was Susan Reynard. She’d been driving one of the Banion company cars in Charlotte, North Carolina last fall when Jack had made his weeklong trip. That claim had paid out $50,000 to her for purported lost wages. Jack had signed off on the affidavit to Motors Mutual as her direct-line supervisor, validating the lost wages.
What a total crock of shit.
There were now outstanding warrants issued against Susan for insurance fraud, mail fraud, and racketeering. She apparently had acted as the intermediary between the OMC contact in Fort Wayne and Jack.
Several pieces of the puzzle were missing, namely records and data lifted by forensic examination of Susan’s computer, which she’d attempted to wipe clean. The data pulled from the hard drive indicated that some type of deal had been underway involving the trafficking of assault weapons and cocaine. Again, the OMC was involved, but no specific names had been lifted.
My father dropped me back off at home. I immediately got into my car and headed towards the mall. The truth was, I didn’t like being in my own house these days if Slate wasn’t there. I was totally creeped out.
I spent the afternoon shopping, then stopped by Becky’s house to give her the update on everything. I was home sitting out on the back deck sipping iced tea when Slate arrived. He’d come around from the side of the house, as if looking for me.
“Hey you,” he said, coming up onto the deck. “I’ve been looking for you inside.”
“I don’t like being in there without you being with me,” I said with a shrug. I knew it sounded ‘needy’ but it was the truth.
He pulled me up from my chair, wrapping his strong arms around me. He was comforting me. He’d been doing a lot of that lately.
“Let’s go inside,” he said softly. “I’ve checked everything, including the camera recordings. No one’s been poking around at all.”
“How long have you been here?”
“About an hour.”
I hadn’t heard him come in, but then I usually didn’t. He was my ‘Slate-ninja.’
We spent the rest of the evening talking about what I’d learned at the meeting this morning. I wrapped Lindsey’s presents, while Slate pondered something. He’d become unusually quiet.
“How did things go in Fort Wayne?” I asked.
“Fine.”
“That’s it? Just fine?”
“Sammie,” he used his warning tone with me.
I hated that he constantly kept me in the dark. If I learned anything, I had to hear it from Donovan. I was sure Slate already knew all about the findings that were discussed in this morning’s meeting. He was such a stickler for protocol.
“Never mind,” I said, getting up and heading towards the stairs.
“Where are you going?”
“To get a shower and then go to bed.”
“Don’t be pissed, babe. You know the routine by now.”
“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” I grumbled.
I showered, and then dressed in a light nightie, crawling beneath the covers. I was exhausted. The heat and humidity of late July seemed to suck my energy. The house was cool with the air conditioning going, but I looked forward to the fall every year by the first of August.
I felt Slate crawl into bed beside me some time later. I was still a bit miffed that he couldn’t share anything with me. I knew that I could be trusted. Why didn’t he?
He pulled me against him, circling an arm around me. I felt him kiss my hair, his fingers combing through my still-damp locks. I pretended to be asleep. If he knew I was awake, he would likely want to fuck and tonight I was just too tired.
I felt his hand lifting my hair up away from my neck. I felt him nuzzle his face against it, pressing warm, soft kisses on my skin. God, that felt so good. His hand settled on the swell of my belly. I was nearly five months pregnant. The baby’s movements were getting stronger.
Slate kissed the back of my neck again. His hand gently rubbed my baby bump. Ever so softly, I heard him whisper, “I love you.”
chapter 51
It was the third week of August. God, I was so ready for summer to be over. The only bad part about fall was that Lindsey would be leaving to go back to Cornell.
She’d been staying with my parents, and, apparently, she had met a nice, young man at the swimming pool where they lived. I’d met him briefly at her birthday celebration. His name was Adam. He was a sophomore at Indiana University and as cute as could be. I could see that Lindsey was smitten. She was in no hurry to come back home.
I was sitting at the kitchen counter going over bills when I saw one addressed to Jack. On the outside of the envelope it was stamped ‘Past Due’ in red. The return address was a storage rental facility in Fort Wayne.
I slit the envelope open and pulled the piece of paper out. It was a letter basically stating that the checking account that had been used for automatic payments had insufficient funds. As co-signer for Susan Reynard, the responsibility for payment was being transferred to Jack.
What the hell?
The bill was for a refrigerated unit. July’s balance (which had been due on the 15th) was past due; the charges for August were due now. The total amount due with late charges was $365. Evidently Susan had cleared out her account as well, when they fled.
I looked at my watch. Shit! I was going to be late for my appointment with Dr. Bailey if I didn’t get a move on it.
Slate had left early. He said he’d do everything in his power to meet me at Dr. Bailey’s. I made him promise not to embarrass me this time.
I set the alarm and locked up. It was a twenty-five minute drive to the doctor’s office. If I didn’t run into major traffic, I would make it.
I was five minutes into the drive on the county road leading to the interstate when I saw Slate’s black pick-up suddenly on my bumper when I glanced in the side mirror. He was flashing his lights on and off, waving me over.
What the hell is going on now?
I pulled over to the side of the road. The front bumper of his truck had to be practically touching the back bumper of my Mercedes. I hit the button to lower my window as he came rushing up to the driver’s side. Too late, I realized it wasn’t Slate; it was Slash.
Panic set in immediately as I tried to power the window back up. Too late! My door flew open and Slash pulled me roughly from the car.
“Come on, bitch,” he sneered. “You and I are taking a ride. We have some things to discuss.”
Someone else had jumped from Slate’s truck and was now in the back seat of my car. Slash opened the rear passenger door on the driver’s side and pushed me in, slamming the door quickly and jumping into the driver’s seat.
He peeled back out onto the road as the passenger in the seat beside me gave a toothless grin. He nodded toward his hand. My eyes followed as I saw what he wanted me to see: a revolver pointed directly at my baby bump.
“Hey, sorry for not making the proper introductions back there,” Slash yelled from the front seat.
“Darrell, this here’s Diamond, Mr. Big’s old lady.”
“Is that right?” Darrell said with a cocky smirk, his eyes boring into me. “You mean Slate’s whore?”
“Yeah, that too,” Slash replied. “She’s gonna be helping us out today if she has plans on seeing tomorrow.”
Somewhere, and I’m not sure where, I suddenly was filled with rage and fury. How dare they kidnap and threaten me? How dare that asshole point that gun towards my baby? I lashed out.
“You motherfuckers better not lay one finger on me. I swear on all that’s precious, you’re dead fucking meat!”
Somehow, I hadn’t managed to pull it off. I felt the butt of Darrell’s gun slam against the side of my head. Everything went black.
chapter 52
When my eyes finally opened, they opened to darkness. I knew
that it wasn’t nighttime yet because, wherever I was, there was still sunlight streaming in through the cracks in the wooden planks. It looked to be some kind of a barn. It was hot, sticky and the air was thick with humidity.
My head was pounding. I felt beads of perspiration trickling down my face and back. My hair was damp, clinging to the back of my neck. I would have given anything for a cool breeze at the moment. My hands were tied behind my back; my ankles were tied together. The rough rope was digging into the skin on my wrists and ankles.
I looked around, my eyes adjusting to the darkness within. I saw my Mercedes parked over in front of a wide sliding barn door that was shut at the moment. My captors were nowhere around. I needed to clear my head, to think survival. That’s what Slate would tell me to do.
I suddenly became emotional. Would I ever see Slate again? Or Lindsey? Or my parents? What did these bastards have planned? How was it I was expected to help them? Did anyone even know that I was missing yet? I had way more questions that I had answers. The sound of a squeaky door opening and the light that filtered in with it told me that I was about to get a few answers.
Slash and Darrell sauntered over to where I was sitting on a pile of straw in front of a long wooden crate of some sort. They took a seat on the crate, drinking from their water bottles. It reminded me of how thirsty I was.
“Well, what do you think, Darrell? You think Diamond there has been hog-tied and left in this sauna long enough she might be a bit more cooperative with us?”
“Guess we better ask her, man.”
“What do you two want from me?” I hissed. “I had nothing to do with whatever it was Jack was doing.”
“We know that,” Slash said, taking another swig. “But we also know that Mr. Big left in quite a hurry. He didn’t have a chance to wrap things up at the house, you know what I mean?”
“Not really,” I replied.
“Well, let me make it simple for you, Diamond. We bought something from Mr. Big the day before he booked out of town, paid his fuck buddy ‘Suzy-Q’ cash on the barrel for it. It was a joint effort with two other chapters, so there’s quite a bit of money involved, you see. Now, here’s our problem. The day they split, Suzy-Q never showed up with the key or provided the password needed to get our goods. I’m betting that info’s at your crib.”
“Are you the ones who tried to break in last month?”
“Yeah, unfortunately that fucking computer we grabbed didn’t have a damn bit of information on it. So, we need that information from you, little lady.”
“I have no clue about any key, I swear to God. How do you know that information hasn’t already been uncovered by the Feds?”
“You’re fucking a ‘Fed,’ darlin’. If it’d been found, you’d be telling me that instead of asking me that, right?”
“No,” I replied angrily. “Slate doesn’t tell me shit. That’s the truth.”
“Well, we’re gonna see about that,” Darrell said, pulling my cell phone out of my purse.
I watched as he slid the battery back in. He powered it on and pulled up “G-Man’s” number from my address book. He sent Slate a text from my cell telling him to answer the next phone call he received. He powered the phone off, removing the battery once again and slipping it into his pocket.
Slash untied my wrists. I massaged them with my fingers to get the circulation going. My fingers felt numb.
Darrell pulled a track phone from his shirt pocket, punching in Slate’s cell phone number. Before he hit the ‘send’ button he instructed me on what to say. Again, the gun was flashed in front of me.
I nodded, as he handed me the phone.
“Sammie,” he said, his voice strained.
“Slate - listen to me please. Jack was in possession of a key and a password that Susan was to give it to her contacts at OMC the day they split. You have to tell me the truth - has this been found in any of the stuff the Feds found at Banion during their search?”
“No,” he said. “I’m being honest with you here. Nothing’s been uncovered that sounds at all like what you’re describing. Are you okay baby?”
“I’m fine, Slate, but I won’t be if I can’t help these guys. They’re not going to release me until you show up with the key. They mean business, Slate.”
“Tell me where to look, Sammie.”
My mind was racing. I had to think like Jack at the moment. “Give me a second,” I said, covering the mic on the phone.
“When and where was Susan supposed to meet your people to turn over the key?”
“Seven p.m. sharp at the corner of Eastern and Sixteenth.”
That was near the gym where Jack worked out daily, either before or after work. That was where he’d told Lindsey he was going after work. He’d then called me later on his way to the airport. He had a locker there at the gym.
“Slate,” I said, “you need to go to Sporty’s Gym on Baxter Avenue. Jack has a membership there. You need to get into his locker. If he wanted to hide something, that’s the only place I can think of where he might’ve put it.”
“Let me talk to Slash,” he said. I handed the phone to Slash.
Slash held the phone to his ear, rolling his eyes and grinning.
“You aren’t in a position to threaten me at the moment, asshole. Just think about this while you’re deciding whether being a Fed means more to you than seeing your baby born. I have nothing to lose if I get popped. I’m already going to serve more years than I have left on this planet. It wouldn’t bother me one bit to add murder to the list. You involve anyone else and it’s ‘bye bye’ to Diamond. You have one hour before we call back. Let’s hope your little scavenger hunt goes well.”
Slash ended the call and turned to me.
“You better hope your dude cares about you more than his career. He can’t have both.”
Darrell squatted down and tied my hands behind my back once more. Then, the two bikers exited the barn. I felt the tears well up, hoping that my hunch was correct and praying that Slate did care more about me than his career.
The puzzle finally fit. The key was to the storage locker in Fort Wayne, and the password was probably for the electronic gate that allowed access to the premises. They didn’t know that I knew the location only because of the past due bill that had arrived in the mail just today.
How had they gotten Slate’s truck? How would Slate get to the gym without his truck? I wondered where Slate was when I’d called him. I didn’t dare ask any or say anything other than what they instructed. I was sick of having that revolver waved in front of me.
This hour would probably be the longest of my life. Maybe it’d be the last hour of my life…. . .
chapter 53
~ SLATE ~
The call ended with silence.
Fuck!
That son-of-a-bitch better not touch a hair on her fucking head. How’d this happen? How had I let some low-life mother fucker like Slash get one over on me? I’d been so freaking careful!
I knew immediately something was up when Sammie hadn’t made her doctor’s appointment that afternoon. I’d tried calling her cell phone a dozen times. It was turned off.
I’d raced from the doctor’s office to her house in my truck, breaking the speed limit the whole way. I’d noticed a pick-up truck just like mine parked by the side of the road a couple of miles from her house. I stopped and called the plate number in to the locals. It’d been reported stolen that morning. That’s when the hairs on the back of my neck stood up.
When I arrived at her house, I used my key. The doors were locked, the alarm had been set. I checked every room in the house and the garage. Her car was gone, so was she. I checked the camera video on the computer. The only activity was her leaving for the doctor’s appointment at 2:12 p.m. She’d been running a little late, it seemed, for a 2:30 p.m. appointment.
I had sat down at the bar in the kitchen to try and get a handle on the situation. That’s when
my phone beeped that I had a text message. It was Sammie. I breathed a sigh of relief until I read the text. Several minutes later my cell phone rang. The caller I.D. was from Missouri; some fucking track phone. It was then I realized that Slash had gotten to her.
I listened to the message that Slash had instructed her to give me. The whole time, I was trying to figure out where she could be. I absently flipped through the mail she’d thrown on the kitchen counter. I listened to her instructions and then asked her to put Slash on the phone.
The mother-fucker knew he had the power at the moment and so did I. I listened to him yammer on as I picked up one of the envelopes that Sammie must’ve opened. It was a past-due bill that was addressed to the rat bastard. The letter folded up next to it told me exactly what type of key Slash was looking to find. It was why he’d attempted the break-in a few weeks back…a deal gone badly.
What kind of a stupid fuck doesn’t pay a storage fee? Probably one who already has the money in hand and is on the run.
I was glad it hadn’t been paid. I now knew where the goods from the deal gone badly were located.
I got into my truck and hauled ass to the gym. There was a young chick working the desk. I turned on the charm and showed her my badge, explaining that I needed to get into Jack Dennison’s locker; that he was a fugitive from justice. She started some shit about a search warrant being needed. I told her she watched too much television. Federal agents didn’t need search warrants, only local authorities. She bought the story and got the master key for me.
Once inside his locker, I emptied his gym bag out and there it was: a small envelope containing a key. There was a piece of paper wrapped around the key that had a pass code written on it. More than likely, the pass code activated the electronic gate on the premises.
I took his gym bag with the rest of his stuff in it and headed out. I had another twenty minutes before I would get the next call. I got on my phone and called Taz. I needed his help. I trusted him more than anyone.
