by Dee J. Adams
Facinetti? The name rang a bell. Jay had heard it at work on more than one occasion, but could it be the same man? As in Paul Facinetti?
“What?” Terry asked him. “You look like you thought of something.”
“That name. Facinetti.”
“You know him?” Eric asked before taking a bite of his sandwich.
“I know of him,” Jay said. “If it’s the man I’m thinking of, he’s being investigated for money laundering, racketeering, tax evasion. The list is long. He owns a casino on the outskirts of Vegas.”
“So what’s he doing in L.A.?” Danny asked around a mouthful of food.
“That’s what we need to find out.”
No Neck came back into the room, pocketing his phone. He eyed everyone suspiciously, as though one or all of them had managed to get out of their cuffs in the last few seconds. Too bad no one here was named Copperfield.
“When do we find out what the hell is going on?” Jay asked.
“Shut up.”
Eloquent.
Terry lifted a brow. The same look she’d give one of the boys if they said something disrespectful. A gesture that said more than words. No Neck didn’t notice. He rested both chins on his chest and kept his gaze traveling the room while everyone finished eating.
Within five minutes they’d all demolished the food and cold coffee brought to them. No Neck cuff, but she wouldn.t him ed them again before clearing the trash.
Another man came in and strolled around the room. They’d seen him a couple of times. Jay didn’t like him or the obvious interest he took in Terry. He didn’t look any smarter than the other men who’d been assigned to watch them, but he had a confidence about him that scared Jay. This man was no regular flunkie. Or maybe he was the top flunkie. That might’ve been where his attitude came from. He stopped in front of Terry and stared down at her with a leer. His gaze roamed from her chest to her feet and back again. Though she was wearing jeans and a loose, flowing green shirt, he looked at her as if she were naked. A geyser of possessiveness erupted in Jay’s chest and he bit back the urge to lunge.
Terry had her legs in front of her. She looked relaxed enough, but Jay felt her tension, knew the hard expression in her eyes and on her face. He’d seen his wife when her patience was all used up. If this guy did one thing to piss her off, sn>
“Terry. Don’t.” Jay said the words as softly as he could, barely moved his lips. But the guy standing over them heard anyway.
And he smiled. Maybe he recognized the defiance in her eyes. Maybe he didn’t care and just wanted to see what she’d do. He kicked her foot and she lashed out fast, nailed him hard in the shin with the heel of her boot. Jay launched his body in front of her as the guy recovered and grabbed her shirt collar.
“Let her go,” Jay growled, his blood pumping hot and violent. With his hands bound there was nothing he could do if this man chose to cart Terry out of here. Terry’s chest rose and fell as Jay kept her pinned against the wall, his body the only thing between her and the jerk standing over them.
“Before this is over,” the man said, staring into Terry’s eyes, “you and me are going to go a few rounds. The nicer you are to me, the better it’ll be for you later.”
“Oh, we’ll go a few rounds,” Terry gritted out. “But it’s not going to be what you’re looking for. You’ll be very sorry you messed with me and my family.”
“Big talk from a little thing like you.” He seemed genuinely amused by her. Maybe he hadn’t heard what she’d done to his pal at the house. They hadn’t seen any sign of him since.
“Why don’t you take off these cuffs and we’ll go now.”
“Dammit, Terry, don’t,” Jay hissed. She wanted to get free, wanted to take this guy on. Clearly along with the tears in the bathroom, she’d leaked some common sense.
The guy released her shirt and stood up. He grinned at her. “Oh, we’ll be going, sweet-thing. You can count on it.”
Fury blinded Jay. He lashed out and kicked the guy high and hard on this upper thigh. It was reflexive. He couldn’t let the guy threaten Terry and not do something about it. The man quickly recovered and grabbed a chunk of Jay’s hair, holding him steady before pounding him with a hard left in the jaw. Pain exploded in his face, as the force threw him away from Terry. experience in show businessBE6at
Terry screamed and kicked out again, the boys raised hell too, and the man backed away.
He pulled out his gun and pointed it at Jay’s head. “You want to fuck with me?” he asked.
“Leave him alone,” Terry screamed. “You want me, come and get me.”
The boys started shouting, probably to drown out their mother’s words. Jay struggled to sit up, blinked to clear the stars circling in his head. He understood his family trying to protect each other, but the job belonged to him first. If he could distract this sleazeball from Terry, then he’d do it. Even if it meant getting his ass kicked. Or worse.
Across the room the door opened and the leader—Facinetti—walked in, still wearing that stupid mask. Of course, that mask was the only thing keeping them alive. As long as Facinetti thought his identity was safe, then Jay believed they had a shot at survival. He hoped the rest of the family realized it, because if someone said his name, their chances for a future went down the pipe.
Facinetti quickly assessed the situation. “Frank, step outside,” he said.
Frank still had his gun pointed at Jay’s head, but he slowly tucked it in his shoulder holster. He gave one last leer at Terry before heading out of the room. “She’s mine,” Frank muttered as he passed Facinetti. “She just sealed that deal.”
Jay’s gut churned and he took a deep breath to quell the nausea. Terry scooted closer, taking her place by his side. She looked as fierce as ever, refusing to let anyone see how scared she was. But Jay knew. He knew because he was scared shitless too.
The door closed and Facinetti surveyed all of them. “I wouldn’t get Frank angry if I was you. He’s not such a nice guy.”
That was pretty fucking ironic coming from Facinetti. A man who had not only kidnapped a family of six, but had watched with no visible emotion as some goon had maimed Brendan last night.
“Then keep him out of my face,” Terry snapped. “Better yet, we’ll be happy to skip on out of here if you take these cuffs off.” She jangled her wrists against the pipe.
“No can do.” Facinetti shrugged.
“Tell me what you want,” Jay said, straightening up against the wall. The movement had his head and eye throbbing. He should’ve come up with this earlier. He had a ton of contacts, including a good, discreet private investigator. “I’ll help you get whatever you need, anything at all. Just release everyone else.”
“Hmm.” Facinetti seemed to consider it. “No. I don’t think so. I have a feeling your daughter can do the job just fine on her own.”
Another shot of fury erupted in Jay’s chest. He’d known since the phone call that they were leverage, but hearing Facinetti talk about it so casually made his blood roar. That this man was using his daughter ate him up inside. “What the hell does Jess have to do with this?”
“It’s very simple. She has access to a man who owes me money. She can either get me the money or give me the man. When she delivers either, she gets you in return.”
It all made sense. “You want Juneau, don’t you?” Jay asked. A part of him had hoped that Jess wouldn’t run into trouble working for him, but the lawyer part of him had suspected otherwise. There’d been something about the man that had put Jay on edge years ago, but with nothing to back up his feeling, he’d ignored it. What a mistake. When Juneau’s son, Alex, had been up on charges of armed robbery and assault, Jay had done his job and gotten Alex off with only some probation time, but the same couldn’t be said for Alex’s buddy. Jay had believed Alex when the kid told him that his best friend had put him up to the job. He’d been sincere, desperate. It had been Jay’s job to make sure Alex stayed fr
ee and he’d succeeded. Only to have the sinking feeling when it was all over that he’d made a terrible error. That maybe the wrong man had been sent to jail.
Facinetti studied Jay. “As I said, he owes me money.”
“So kidnap his fucking family,” Blake muttered from across the room.
“Nice mouth,” Facinetti said, glancing at him. “I would have, but his only son died a few years ago and he doesn’t have any other relatives. At least none that I could find. I took an alternate route.”
“Kidnapping. Blackmail. You don’t really want to face those charges.” Terry said the words Jay had on his mind. He wished she hadn’t. They only added to the list already there and maybe the longer the list got, the less the man cared.
Facinetti smiled. “I don’t plan to.”
Did that mean he planned to kill them regardless of whether he got his money or not? Jay didn’t particularly want the answer. He tried again. “Look, let them go. I give you my word they’ll stay clear of the cops. Keep me. Let my wife help Jess get your money.”
Shaking his head, Facinetti grimaced. “I don’t think so.” He let his gaze roam the whole family. “It’s nothing personal.”
“Just business,” Blake piped in.
“Exactly.” Facinetti ignored the sarcasm and seemed pleased that at least one of them understood. The guy was out of his mind. He seriously considered this a business arrangement.
“What happens when Jess delivers?” Danny asked. The whole family watched Facinetti intently and he took his time answering.
“I guess that depends on what she delivers and when.” Facinetti checked his watch and headed to the door. He shot one last look at Terry. “I’d be careful about getting Frank riled up. He likes you.” He winked and let himself out the door, leaving Jay to worry that much more about something different altogether.
____________
Maurice looked around the converted garage, her chest rose and fell back t him frustration eating at him. His eye throbbed and the need for revenge raced in his blood. He leaned his head against the paneling along the wall and his gaze slid to the filing cabinet three feet away on his left. It sat askew, which didn’t surprise him since he’d slammed into it after Bryant’s punch, but the carpeting bulged abnormally behind the cabinet. Maurice took a closer look. He shifted a fraction and saw a flash of metal. Straining with one good eye, he struggled to make out the object lodged under the carpet. Maurice angled his body along the wall, wedged his foot behind the metal and pushed the cabinet. It moved without much muscle. Relief has his pulse racing faster. Once he’d cleared a few more inches, he used his heel and peeled back the carpet.
A screwdriver. Someone had dropped a screwdriver and left it, or lost it. It was short with a thick handle. Perfect. If he could get to it. That wouldn’t happen with his shoes on. Maurice toed off his left shoe, glad he’d worn the slip-on kind instead of something with laces.
Sweat beaded his forehead, collected along his spine and under his arms. Using his right foot, he kept the carpet pulled back and with the left he edged the screwdriver along the wall and closer to his reach. He inched back, slowly making progress. After a few minutes, when he finally got his hands on the tool, elation bubbled in his chest. Maybe he could sharpen the edge of the flathead with the cement under the carpet and slice through the plastic cuffs. It was worth the try.
A noise outside made him freeze. Bryant? Or Jess? He didn’t know. His pulse soared as he quickly let the carpet fall back, used his feet to push the cabinet in place then shoved his foot into his shoe. He faced front just as the door opened and Bryant came in.
Maurice didn’t see the gun. Most likely Bryant had it tucked in the back of his jeans. The man sure as hell wouldn’t come in here without one. Why would he come in here at all? Without a computer to access his account, they could only wait for Jess to return, which meant Bryant was here for another reason.
“What the hell do you want?” Maurice had lost all patience. He was hot and cramped and had no reason to put on an act. He was also pissed that he’d fallen into this situation to begin with. As soon as he sawed through these plastic cuffs, he was going to show Bryant exactly what kind of mistake he’d made. He’d show Jess too.
Bryant stood over him, his giant arms crossed over his chest. Considering the guy had spent seven years in prison, he looked damn good. He’d been a skinny kid when he’d been escorted from the courthouse, but he’d filled out. The man was enormous. He’d used his time well. He was strong. But did his strength match his mental health? Maurice doubted it.
“You never gave a second thought to putting me away, did you?”
Maurice rolled his eyes. “You’re kidding me with this shit, right? What, am I supposed to feel guilty for saving my son? Go waste someone else’s time, punk.”
“But you couldn’t save him, could you, Juneau? Alex went ahead and killed himself anyway. Ever think that if I’d stayed his buddy, I’d have kept him clean? Ever wonder about that? Maybe putting away your son’s best friend contributed to his overdose?”
No,,” he said quietly sat Maurice hadn’t thought about it. Anger rumbled to the surface. Nausea swirled in his gut. “You have no idea what you’re saying, Bryant. You’re just a punk like all the other punks my son kept as friends. I told him to stay clear of all of you.”
“Ever consider that your son was the punk and anyone who associated with him landed in trouble? And maybe it was his friends who helped him realize he needed more than the things his dad could buy him? Maybe he needed someone to listen to him instead of throw money at him to keep him quiet?”
Maurice yanked on the flex-cuffs, itched to wrap his hands around Bryant’s neck and squeeze the life out of him. He’d given Alex everything. Yes, he’d worked his ass off and maybe he wasn’t around a ton, but he had to make a living. Had to afford to give his son the best. “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he growled.
“I know that even while I was in prison, Alex was up to his neck in trouble and drugs. Putting me away didn’t change anything. You fucked up with your own son. You may as well have killed him yourself.”
Maurice thought he might puke. Bryant hadn’t spent near enough time in jail. Maurice couldn’t wait to destroy him personally. “You’re fucking insane, Bryant. You have no clue what you’re talking about. You’re grasping.”
“I don’t think so.”
“No, you just don’t think,” Maurice shot back. Bryant thought he could make him squirm, but Maurice had learned to turn the tables on his opponents. He knew Jess’s weakness, now he wanted to find Bryant’s. “You never did think for yourself. I saw that much with my own eyes. You latched onto Alex because you didn’t have anyone else. My son did you a favor hanging out with you.”
Tanner simply shook his head so Maurice pushed him.
“I know what this is all about. You need someone to fuck with since you don’t have your prison buddies to fuck anymore? Is that it? You’re missing your boyfriends in Leavenworth.”
Aside from the darkening of his already dark eyes, Bryant didn’t budge. “Southern New Mexico Correctional Facility.”
Maurice hadn’t known where Bryant served his time. Hadn’t cared. “You went in there pretty scrawny. Bet you got used to being somebody’s bitch.”
“You’d have liked that, wouldn’t you, Juneau?” Bryant’s gaze didn’t waver as he stepped closer. The urge to check if he’d replaced the carpet burned in Maurice. He fisted the small screwdriver, kept eye contact and made sure Bryant’s gaze didn’t stray as he continued to speak. “I’m thinking I should call a few of the guys that were into that. Let ’em know I have a world class chump just waiting for a little action.”
Bryant was full of shit. Maurice hadn’t paid too much attention to him when he’d hung around Alex all those years ago. Teenagers were usually full of crap, but it was interesting that Bryant thought he could use scare tactics.
“What are you getting �
� Romantic Times.
“What makes you think I won’t beat the hell out of you right now?” Bryant asked. He spread his legs, got more comfortable in his spot. “Whether she delivers you or the money doesn’t mean you have to look good when it happens. If she does deliver the money, then you’re all mine. Either way, you might want to drop that smile.”
Maurice didn’t. He wanted to stick it to Bryant any way he could. “Yeah, I’
{atlistened
Chapter Twelve
A sense of accomplishment filled Jess as she jumped out of the car and sprinted into the house. She’d called Tanner after leaving the condo, so he knew she was on her way. “Tanner?” She set the computer on the kitchen counter and checked the den and living room. “Are you in here?”
Silence. Which meant he had to be in the studio. With Maurice. A seed of worry blossomed in her gut, but she fought the feeling before backtracking into the kitchen and rushing outside. Tanner had promised he wouldn’t go back on his word. He’d told her he’d left Maurice alone to stew but planned to check on him before she returned. So why was her stomach turning summersaults?
Jess opened the studio door and the hinge creaked.
Tanner turned as she stepped inside. Behind him, a flash of movement widened Jess’s eyes. Her pulse skyrocketed as Maurice launched himself at Tanner. Jess couldn’t get a warning out. Didn’t have the air in her lungs or words on her tongue. Tanner must have sensed the danger because he tried to dodge Maurice’s body as he reached in his waistband for his gun. Too late. Maurice slammed into him hard. The gun bounced out of Tanner’s reach. Maurice landed on top of him, pinning Tanner’s right arm beneath him as he lifted his fist high in the air, ready to strike. Something flashed, and paralyzed, Jess could only stare, horrified, as Maurice viciously came down with a weapon in his hand. Tanner caught his wrist before the weapon imbedded in his head. A screwdriver? Maurice had a screwdriver in his hand!
Maurice’s face was a mask of determination as he bared his teeth and fought like an animal. She never would’ve given him credit for half the strength she saw, but adrenaline did amazing things for the blood stream.
