by Dee J. Adams
Jess edged her way closer to the house until she flattened herself along the back wall. She peeked through the window just as the door inside open,” she whisperedFacinettiatay bed and two people came in. She froze, completely unable to move when she spotted her mother getting tossed inside. Her heart nearly pounded out of her chest at the relief of seeing her mom alive. But just as soon as the feeling swamped her, it ended when the man backhanded Terry across the face. The force spun Terry into the wall before she hit the floor.
The man shut the door, locked it and turned. He wasn’t a giant, but he had mammoth shoulders, a nine-month-p to listen car
Chapter Nineteen
Paul had heard the commotion, grabbed his gun and ran for the lower level. He elbowed his way into the room between the two hulks Frank had hired, and stopped short. The sight of Frank lying face down on the floor momentarily paralyzed him. The curtains billowed from the ocean breeze and a giant hole in the window marked where a lawn chair had broken through. Glass littered the floor. Two of the new hires had guns trained on Terry St. John and another younger woman. They stood next to each other in the corner of the room, wide-eyed and waiting.
Paul didn’t take the time to make sense of anything. “Frank,” he said softly. He moved toward his friend, a man he’d known for thirty years, and knelt next to him, setting his gun on the floor. “Frankie…” Paul took his shoulders and turned him on his side, careful of the knife still lodged in his back.
Frank stared at him with panicked eyes. “Paulie…can’t feel my legs,” he rasped.
Oh, shit. Paul kept his panic under wraps and ignored the staggering amount of blood on the floor. He’d always joked that Frank’s knife was more like a machete and knowing that most of the eight inch blade was buried deep didn’t give him much hope. “It’s okay, Frankie. We’ll get you help. It’s gonna be okay.”
“Don’t be an idiot, Paulie. We can’t.” Frank shook his head. “Too many questions.”
“Fuck the questions.” Yeah, they both knew an ambulance was out of the question, but getting help wasn’t. “We’ll take you to a hospital right now, Frankie.” Paul looked over his shoulder. “Get a God-damn car ready to roll now,” he told the men behind him. “And get them the fuck outta here,” he added of the two women. He’d deal with them later.
Both men left the room. One with his gun on the women and the other down the hallway toward the garage.
The pool of blood steadily grew under Paul’s knees. He gave Frank a grim smile. “Frankie…what am I going to do with you?” he joked. “Here I,” she whisperedch lside and thought you were only going to fuck the one girl and you end up with two.”
Frank’s lips lifted in an attempt at a grin. “I wish,” he said before losing the smile. “They fucked me good.” He shook his head. “It’s bad, Paulie. I can tell it’s bad.”
“We’ll get you the best doc—”
“No.” Frank shook his head. “Not doing the hospital thing. I won’t be a helpless bastard getting a sponge bath from some two hundred pound nurse with a mustache.”
The image made Paul smile despite the seriousness of the situation. It was just like Frank to think the worst. “C’mon Frank, you might get a hot blonde you can finger while she’s rubbing you down. Nothing bad about that.”
“Car’s ready.” The second guy appeared in the doorway with a blanket in his hand. His gun holstered at his shoulder. “I’ll help you move him. We can get him on the blanket and carry him out like a stretcher.”
At least this guy had a brain in his head. “Good. Careful of his back,” Paul said, shifting to arrange the blanket so they could shift Frank onto it.
But Frank moved too fast. Paul should’ve seen it coming. He should’ve known better. In the split second it took to see Frank reaching for his gun, he knew he was too late. Maybe Frank’s legs didn’t work, but his arms and hands worked fine.
Paul took a breath to scream, “No!” as Frank aimed the gun, but the shot went off like a canon and took most of Frank’s head with it. Blood and brain matter splattered everywhere.
Falling back, Paul landed on his ass and stared in shock at what was left of his friend. They’d been through everything together. Elementary school, junior high, high school. Frank had protected him for thirty years. He’d done all the dirty work and kept Paul clean. He’d always been an ear to listen and a rock to depend on. He’d mentored the new hires and kept them in line. He was an important part of the machine and just like that he offed himself.
Frank had watched his father crumble bit by bit in a nursing home for fifteen years and had always said he wouldn’t die a slow death. Compounding his father’s situation had been Paul’s sister’s fight with cancer. Sarah had whittled away to nothing after seven years. Frank wouldn’t live in a hospital or nursing home. He’d promised to take matters into his own hands before ever living out that fate.
He’d kept that promise.
But Jesus…it shouldn’t have happened this way. Frank was too young. At forty, he was just hitting his prime. Sure, he didn’t take great care of himself, but he enjoyed life.
Reality set in and Paul’s chest constricted. He glanced at the man staring dumbfounded at Frank’s body. Dark hair, dark skin… He didn’t even know the guy’s name. The smell of death permeated the air.
Slowly and surely, anger built from his center and Paul wanted revenge for his friend. A lot of revenge. A family,” she whispered went "’s worth of revenge. He picked himself up from the floor. “Bring those bitches to my office in ten minutes.” He’d have to make arrangements for Frank. He’d give him a burial fit for a king. Until then, he’d have to do something with Frank’s body. “Call a local mortuary. Buy a coffin. A nice one.” He looked around the room, at the blood and gore. “Clean this up.”
Paul climbed the stairs to the main level. He’d planned to change, but decided that having bits of Frank splattered on his clothes might actually make a more gruesome sight. He splashed some water on his face and washed his bloodied hands.
A few minutes later, two of his men hauled in Terry St. John and the younger woman. Paul walked around the front of the desk and faced both women as his men stepped back. Terry had blood on her hands, on her clothes. She’d killed Frank with a knife to his back. It didn’t get much lower than that. The lady next to her was too close in looks to be any other than her daughter.
Simmering anger boiled hotter.
“You killed my best friend,” Paul bit out the words to Terry. Unlike Frank, Paul had never hit a woman. But there was a first time for everything. Lightning fast, he backhanded her to the floor. When Jess screamed and lunged for her mother, Paul slapped her next. Breathing hard, he looked down at both women. “That was for Frank.” He yanked Jess to her feet and held her by the collar. “I don’t know how you found us, and honestly, I don’t give a fuck. But if you bring the cops down on me, I’ll kill every member of your family before I go down. You understand me?”
She shook her head. “No cops. I swear. I found your sister’s obituary and thought I’d check. I didn’t think you’d be here. I swear.” Her eyes glittered with fear. A red mark already blazed on her jaw. Good. He wanted her to hurt. He wanted both of these bitches to hurt. “It was my fault that he died,” Jess went on to say. “I pushed him—”
“Jess, no!” Her mother said, rising from the floor. “Frank killed himself.” She eyed Paul fearlessly, a pretty stupid thing to do considering the circumstances. “The knife did damage but by the looks of your suit, he took his own life. Can’t blame me for that.”
Paul released Jess and took a step toward Terry. He’d have hit her again if the door hadn’t swung open.
“Someone at the front door,” Hollister said. “He says he knows you have the St. Johns. I coulda shot him, but in case he told someone else as a back up, I figured you want to talk to him. He says he wants to make a deal.”
Paul eyed Jess, his anger spilling over once again. He didn�
�t know which St. John female to kill first. But he had an order of business. “Take them back downstairs, keep the new guy in the living room. I’ll be down in five minutes after I change. Too bad his timing sucks. He’s going to die like the rest of them.” He could kill all eight people and be out of this place in no time flat.
It only took Paul four minutes to put on a new suit. It was one thing to show the St. John women what they’d caused, but it was another to meet a man, wearing someone else’s blood and brains. Even if he planned on ,” she whispered
Entering the living room, Paul sized up the man across from him. Big, serious and not very happy. Paul could relate. He was two out of three of those things. “You are?” he asked.
“Tanner Bryant. And you’re Paul Facinetti.”
Paul wasn’t in the mood to be nice. “Mr. Bryant, you’ve got one minute, so make it good.”
“Jess St. John owes me money and I want it before you kill her.”
Not something Paul expected to hear. But this seemed like a conversation he wanted to have while Jess St. John occupied the same room. He wanted to see her face. “Follow me,” Paul said, leading the way downstairs to the lower level of the stacked house. They walked down a short hallway. One of his men stood at the end, his large gun prominent in his shoulder holster, and opened the door as they neared. Two men shoved Paul’s newest guest inside and followed him in.
Paul looked at the scene through Tanner Bryant’s eyes. The whole St. John family sat along two walls with their hands behind their backs. Two of the brothers looked pretty messed up. So did the mom. Jess had a bruise forming on her jaw and Paul felt the tingle in his hand where he’d hit her. No sense in waiting any longer. Paul forged ahead and looked at Jess.
“You owe this guy money?”
“Yeah, she does,” Bryant piped in before she said anything. “Like I told you upstairs…” he pointed to Jess, but kept his eyes on Paul. “She owes me for a job. It’s real simple. I need work and from what I’ve seen of your operation, you need some muscle.”
“Funny. I don’t remember a help wanted sign on my front window,” Paul said.
Bryant was all business. “You didn’t need one. Maybe I’m a mind reader.” He gestured outside. “You didn’t have anybody watching the outside of this place. A sure sign that you’re short-handed. Maybe you can’t trust hiring new guys. I don’t know. What I do know is you want money from Maurice Juneau and I know how to help you get it. Without her.” Bryant pointed to Jess.
“What are you doing?” Jess screamed, her face turning red.
“You seem to know a lot about me, Mr. Bryant.”
“I know what Jess told me. You invested in Juneau’s movie scam and he stole from you. You’re from Nevada and you’re only here to collect. Basically, I know everything Jess knows.”
Son of a fucking bitch. He hated people nosing into his business. “Go on,” he pulled a small Berretta from his pocket and gestured with it. Every damn person in this room should be worrying about dying in the next two minutes.
Bryant glanced at Jess again. “Did she tell you Juneau’s dead?”
“You son of a bitch, bastard,” Jess hissed.
More anger bubbled from Paul’s g experience in show businesssuatut. “Juneau’s dead?”
“Very. She shot him in the head.” At those words, every member of her family looked at her.
“Tanner!” The shock in her voice was as real as the surprise on her face. “Shut up!” Jess’s words were clear, concise and full of unadulterated malice.
Paul changed the direction of his gun. Instead of pointing at Bryant, he aimed at Jess. “So I have no reason to keep any of the St. Johns alive.”
“Wait!” Jess shouted. “I have his computer. I’m the only one that can get it and I won’t do it if you touch any of them.” She tipped her chin gesturing to her whole family. “You can get all Maurice’s information if you find someone to hack into his computer. It’s not impossible. People do it all the time.”
Paul gritted his teeth. Now ot someone to
Chapter Twenty
Jay didn’t doubt a word Bryant uttered. The way Bryant stared him down a second time made his blood run cold. The man had serious motive and not much chance of getting caught if he stayed with Facinetti.
There was so much information to process, Jay hardly knew where to start. His mind reeled from the minute Facinetti walked in with Tanner Bryant until both men left the room. Jess had not only walked into a time bomb by working for Maurice Juneau, but apparently she’d compounded it by teaming up with a convicted felon.
Jesus… Tanner Bryant. Although he’d recognized the man’s face, it wasn’t until Facinetti had said the name that everything registered. The man had changed. He’d grown in prison, up and out. He was a good four inches taller and that many wider. It was easy to see how he’d spent his time behind bars. Though he had to be about Jess’s age, he looked older.
A swift wave of contrition hit Jay. He’d inadvertently helped put Bryant behind bars. When he rethought the trial and the other attorney’s lack of defense, he suspected Juneau had paid the lawyer representing Bryant to railroad his client. There were attorneys in the world who didn’t care about the outcome of a trial as long as the paychecks cleared. Jay shoved the guilt and memories to the back of his brain. He had too much to think about now to dwell on the past.
Processing everything he heard, Jay studied his oldest child. S,” she whisperedT0to his mhe had her head down, eyes closed. His relief at seeing her alive battled with the wish that she wasn’t here at all. Good thing he had a strong heart, or he’d have had several massive coronaries by now.
He had a million questions, so he started at the top. “Jess, honey, are you okay?”
She nodded, glanced up at him and quickly looked away. Maybe because he looked as if someone had used him for a punching bag or maybe because she felt responsible. Jay didn’t know. Right now, he wanted some answers.
“You finally figured out what we were trying to tell you?” Eric asked.
“Took you long enough,” Danny kidded. The boys usually resorted to humor in tough situations. Even now, when it was clear that Jess was devastated by all that had happened.
Jess eyed him but her gaze softened at Danny’s teasing smile. She looked at her brothers and misery shone bright in her eyes.
“How’d you end up with Tanner Bryant?” Jay asked.
Glancing skyward, Jess sighed before meeting his gaze. “It’s a weird story. I was with Maurice on stage at the studio and Tanner…uh…” She either didn’t want to tell him or didn’t know how to tell him and Jay just nodded, encouraging her to continue. “Tanner…was shooting at Maurice and…”
“Shooting?” The question lurched out of Jay’s mouth before he clenched his jaw and waited for the rest. He already hated it. Shooting? Not the word he wanted to hear. Terry’s eyes were as wide as his. “And,” he prodded.
“And he missed. Kind of got me instead.”
“Kind of? There are no ‘kind ofs’ when it comes to bullet wounds. You either get hit or you don’t,” Terry said.
Jess’s brows quirked together in that little slant that usually preceded an apology. “I’m fine. Really, he barely nicked me and he didn’t mean to do it. He apologized.”
Apologized? Jay briefly dropped his chin to his chest before looking back at Jess. “An apology is supposed to make up for you taking a bullet?” Jess leveled him with upset eyes, so he moved on. “So he shot you and you became…pals?” Jay couldn’t even let his mind wander to the other thing Bryant had said. No way, no how. Yeah, sure, Jess was an adult, but she was still his little girl and little girls didn’t… He pushed it out of his head.
“Tanner thought I was hurt worse than I was and he…well, he took me. Kind of.”
There she went with the kind ofs again. “Took you? As in, kidnapped you? Instead of taking you to a hospital!” Jay growled. If he survived this, he was going to
make sure Tanner Bryant spent every last day of his life behind bars. Or six feet under.
Jess seemed sufficiently torn. “Well, maybe at first, but then we made a deal and he’s been helping me.”
“Helping you? You experience in show businesspe l think this is help?” How could he have raised a daughter so naïve? He’d always loved that Jess was so sensitive and caring, but now he wanted to shake a little sense into her. But, too late to go back now.
“I never expected him to do this.” Jess’s eyes widened, the betrayal clear in her tone. “He helped me with Maurice. He helped me…” She shook her head. “He just seemed like he wanted to help and I trusted him.” Two tears leaked down her face and Jay looked away. Couldn’t stand to see her pain.
“It’s okay, honey,” Terry said. “Is what he said true?” Her voice carried the compassion of a mother. “Did you kill Maurice?”
Jess pressed her lips together, but never opened her eyes as she nodded. “I didn’t mean to,” she whispered. “It was an accident.”
Jay leaned his head against the wall. The pain in his chest hurt like nothing else. His little girl had killed a man. An act she’d have to live with the rest of her life.
“He had a gun on Tanner,” Jess continued. “He was going to kill him and I just wanted to scare him. I wasn’t aiming for him when I pulled the trigger, but the bullet hit one of Blake’s guitars hanging in the garage and it ricocheted and…” She shook her head, couldn’t finish. But she didn’t have to.
Bryant had wanted Maurice dead and Jess had accomplished it for him. Obviously Bryant knew what he had when it came to Jess. Retribution on a large scale. Robert Briscoe had defended Bryant in the trial and he’d done a piss-poor job. The man had died from complications of diabetes several years ago, so Bryant couldn’t mete out his own justice when it came to his lawyer, but he sure as hell could when it came to Jay. If he wanted, Bryant could wipe out all the St. Johns while Jay watched. That was a hell of a lot of retribution. Jay’s stomach knotted.
