by L C Hayden
She wagged her tail.
Chapter 39
Bobbi studied both Daniel and Sandy carefully for a few minutes and then let out a sarcastic little laugh. She turned away from them. “Leonardo, follow me. Pablo, you stay here and keep your gun pointed at them.” She signaled with her head, indicating her niece and her boyfriend. She turned so she could speak to Pablo, but her glance locked on Sandy’s eyes. “If either of them moves even an inch, shoot to kill. Do you understand?”
Pablo’s face lit up. “Like yeah, man.”
Bobbi glanced down at Daniel and read the look of disgust in his eyes. That was perfect. That’s what she wanted. She felt her lips part in a triumphant smile. She walked away and Leonardo followed her.
“What’s going on?” Leonardo asked once he caught up with her.
“You know Eddie?”
Leonardo paused. “Eddie? Like in Eddie Fin, Pablo’s friend?”
“The one and only.”
“What about him?”
“Did you know he’s here?”
Leonardo’s eyebrows met each other in a deep V of confusion. “What?” He glanced around as though expecting to see him lurking behind the trees. “He’s here? Why?”
“He may have lots of reasons. But the bottom line, the one that interests us the most, is that he’s here to kill us.”
Leonardo’s posture went rigid. “No, it can’t be.” His lips trembled as though they had been touched by the Grim Reaper himself. “You’re wrong.”
Bobbi stood perfectly still, staring at her nephew. She crossed her arms.
Leonardo bit his lip. “I’m sorry. I know better than to doubt you. You’re right. It’s just that it’s so hard to believe. Why would he want to kill us?”
“He wants to take over the empire. What better way than to find The Ledger, hand it over to Papa Lazzarone, and get all of the credit? As for us, we could prove him wrong, but if we’re dead, no one is the wiser.”
Leonardo remained quiet, digesting the information. “Does Pablo know?”
Bobbi shook her head.
“That’s why you ordered him to stay behind.” A statement more than a question.
“Someone has to watch Daniel and Sandy.”
“Of course.” The silence stretched between them. Leonardo was the first to break it. “You have a plan.”
Bobbi had been looking down at the ground. Her sight slowly traveled up to meet Leonardo’s eyes.
“I see,” he said. “What do you want me to do with his body?”
Bobbi shrugged. “Does it matter?”
“No, I guess not.” Leonardo took out the MRI Desert Eagle from the hip holster and examined it. Satisfied that all was well with the semi-automatic, he replaced in its proper place. “Any idea where I should look?”
“None at all, but then it’s not my place to locate him. You go out there, find him, and do your job. How you do it, I couldn’t care less. Just do it, and do it correctly. You know I don’t accept anything less than perfection.”
“What about Pablo?”
“What about him?”
“What are you going to tell him? That’s his best friend.”
“I will tell him he needs to choose better friends.” Bobbi turned and walked away.
Chapter 40
Bronson and the dog stepped out of yet another crumbling edifice. Like before, Bronson had found nothing but dust and broken memories. This had been a thriving town once. Its residents had lived and loved and laughed. They had hopes and dreams which, like the town they lived in, had evaporated and turned to darkness and despair.
Why? What had happened?
If Bronson could answer that, maybe he could grasp one small sliver of the past, and that would be enough to get the wheels of his mind rolling.
He knew what he needed, what he wanted. A good cup of coffee in his hands would force him to relax, to think, to analyze.
A good cup of coffee.
That had to be the real Bronson speaking. Were bits of memory finally coming back to him? Too soon to get excited, he told himself. Just keep talkin’, maybe somethin’ else will come up.
Bronson stopped and Dog sat beside him. “Can you smell that, Dog? I so desperately need a good cup of coffee that I can almost smell it.” He looked down at the canine who cocked her head and flashed him a stern look. “Don’t give me that look.” Bronson resumed his journey. Surely, he’d find the answer on the next building he searched.
Dog stood up and followed him.
Bronson looked down at it. “The only person who can give me that look and can get away with it is Carol.”
The image that flashed before him exploded in his heart.
Carol.
Who’s Carol?
A grin that spread ear-to-ear appeared on his face. Carol. Gentle Carol.
He did his best to hold on to the image, but like vanishing smoke, it drifted away.
Oh, Carol. I love you. A smile the size of Texas returned to his face. He did love her, he knew it in his heart. Now all he had to do was figure out who Carol was. His daughter? His granddaughter? Yes, maybe. But the Carol he was remembering was his wife.
Bronson stood still, hoping to grasp the shirttails of that memory, hoping it would bring back the rest of his life.
Nothing came to him.
Shiiit.
“Come on, Dog. Let’s continue with our search.” He mumbled the command as he looked up and down the street. Crumbling buildings, followed by empty lots. Partial walls. Bits of furniture in various stages of disrepair. What good would that do him?
Stop and think. He had somehow reached to this so-called town. Chances were he came by car. Where was it? Maybe if he walked this entire town, he’d find the car hidden behind some structure that kept him from seeing it now.
The possibility of its discovery gave Bronson new hope. With a new spring to his step, he set out to walk the town.
Beside him, Dog wagged her tail.
Chapter 41
Leonardo didn’t like it one bit. Something was going on, and he wasn’t privileged to that information. That irritated him.
Eddie is here, Aunt Bobbi had said, and Pablo doesn’t know. Go find Eddie and kill him.
A simple statement spoken with such authority.
Aunt Bobbi never gave him a choice.
Go find Eddie and kill him.
Just like that. He was expected to obey and not question the demand.
Where would it end? Were Daniel and Sandy next?
Probably so. They were expendable, and chances were he’s the one who was expected to kill them. Problem was he liked them. They were family—or at least Sandy was. Sure, it was okay to scare them to death, make them tell all they knew. But kill them? No way.
Yet, he couldn’t disobey Aunt Bobbi. Circumstances put her in the same spot he occupied. She was only acting according to Papa Lazzarone’s instructions, and nobody ever went against Papa Lazzarone’s wishes.
Maybe Leonardo was over thinking everything. Best if he stuck to completing his assignment. Find Eddie—
Leonardo’s eyes widened into saucers. Was luck with him or what? From where he stood halfway down the hill he could clearly see the town below him, and right smack dab in the middle of the street stood Eddie, facing away from him. With Eddie was a dog Leonardo had never seen.
No matter. He was instructed to kill Eddie. Let the dog be.
Leonardo retrieved his handgun, raised it and aimed.
He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and lowered the firearm.
He knew the Desert Eagle had a firing range of what? One-hundred meters, maybe? He didn’t think he was within range, and even if he was, if he shot Eddie from this distance, he might miss. That would put Eddie on guard, and Leonardo might never again regain the advantage. But more important than that, if he killed Eddie now, Leonardo would lose the opportunity to learn what Eddie knew.
With that new goal in mind, Leonardo descended the hill as fast as possible, all the time k
eeping his eye focused on Eddie’s movements.
The closer Leonardo moved in, the more his mind seemed to play a trick on him. Eddie was tall and thin. This other man stood like a barrel as if he had been carved from a single piece of wood. He was big and powerful. He looked like a man who could defend himself even if he had no weapon.
That thought forced Leonardo to stumble as he tried to stop but at the same time, continue going. He regained his balance and breathlessly looked down at the man who still stood on what once had been a paved street but was now full of potholes.
The man paid no attention to him.
Leonardo breathed easier.
But not for long. This man—this man, he couldn’t be Eddie. He looked more like, like—
Bronson.
How could that be? He was supposed to be dead.
Yet, here he was. Alive and wandering the town.
Leonardo retrieved the gun from its holster. Now, more than ever, he knew something was going on. Maybe Eddie wouldn’t tell him what that was, but Bronson would.
Leonardo paused long enough to consider his options. He would sneak up on Bronson, pretend to be his friend, let him know he was glad he was alive. Maybe he could even offer him medical help. That should loosen Bronson’s tongue.
Once Leonardo felt satisfied that he knew everything, he would raise the gun and kill Bronson.
Chapter 42
Bronson stood in the middle of the street, his mind like a runaway train, one thought running into another. He had to have come by car, or someone for some unearthly reason had brought him here and left him for dead. He glanced at the ground that had once served as the town’s main street. No signs of tire marks, but then again the dirt, hard and dry, would not give up its secrets.
Assuming he was alone, the car had to be here somewhere. But why hide it? He looked up and scanned the area surrounding him. A thick cluster of trees with thick barks offered many possibilities to hide a car. He redirected his sight down to the ground under the clusters and quickly eliminated those that a car couldn’t possibly reach.
By this process of elimination, only three of them offered good possibilities. He’d begin with the one closest to him.
“Bronson.”
The sound of the voice at his back came like a clap of thunder, and he jerked in response. He had been so intent on the ground and on the scene in front of him that he had failed to pay attention to what might be coming at him from behind.
Big mistake.
He slowly turned to face a young man who would easily set any woman’s heart pumping hard. The man smiled, but behind the smile, Bronson recognized something else, a sense of unease. Fear or anger or both poured out of every pore in his body. Even the dog seemed to sense it. She stood rigid, her eyes focused on the stud.
Trust no one.
Where had that come from?
The man continued to stare at him through unblinking ice blue eyes that could only belong to a Hollywood actor. Those eyes held him at bay, and the fake smile he wore did nothing to hide the fact that in his hands, he held a Desert Eagle 50AE.
It took Bronson all of two seconds to summarize his situation. The firearm his opponent carried proved to be an interesting choice. Its brushed stainless structure made the semi-automatic look cool, and it wasn’t cheap. Almost two grand.
All of this led to one conclusion. This dream man carried a big ego and often these kinds of men were either hugely insecure or were hard to fall. Which was he? Judging by his stand, he belonged to the first category. Bronson could overtake him, but he had to be quick and accurate.
But first, he had to get some answers from him. The fact that the stranger held the gun pointed downward in a non-threatening position spoke volumes.
“You know me.” Bronson opened his arms, showing him he had nothing to fear.
Leonardo’s eyebrows furrowed, and his eyes analyzed Bronson through narrow slits in his face. “Know you? Of course, I know you. We met at Aunt Bobbi’s house.”
None of this struck a chord in Bronson’s gut.
Leonardo’s awkward smile vanished. “Don’t you remember me? I’m Leonardo.”
Leonardo.
Aunt Bobbi.
Bronson mentally grasped those images and tried to hold on to them. They should mean something. But nothing came to him. Desperation ate at him. Why couldn’t he remember? He needed to reach out to this young man and get the answers he so desperately sought.
Leonardo saw him advance. His eyes widened, and instinctively, he raised the gun.
Bronson saw and recognized the slight shift in Leonardo’s stance. He knew he had half a second to react, a half second that stretched into a lifetime.
Bronson threw his right leg up, knocking the semi-automatic out of Leonardo’s hand. At the same time, his left fist came at his head, delivered with everything he had to throw. The impact knocked Leonardo out of balance.
Bronson grasped the opportunity. He intertwined his fingers and delivered a hammer strike that hit Leonardo’s shoulder with the force of a hurricane. Bronson knew that he no longer had the wind for a long match—age had robbed him of that—and he had to end this now. His punch, fired from close range and out of defense, felled his opponent.
Leonardo crumbled to the ground, the back of his golden head hitting the stony earth with a dull, heavy thud. He lay still like a broken doll, a rivulet of red blood trickled out of his head wound.
Bronson checked on the firearm’s location. It had landed a distance from them. No way Leonardo could reach it, even if he were in a condition to do so.
Bronson bent down and checked on Leonardo. Although still breathing, he was out and would remain in this condition for quite a while. He would be of no use to him for a long time. At least he was still alive and would be able to answer all of Bronson’s questions at a later time.
Bronson straightened up and scanned the area.
Where there was one, there may be more.
Bronson couldn’t possibly leave Leonardo’s body in the middle of the street as a signal to the others. He’d take care of that, but first he had another task he had to do. He picked up the discarded weapon, checked it, and placed it in his waistband. Without losing another second, he dragged Leonardo toward the nearest building and found a sturdy beam. He dragged the handsome stud toward the beam and grabbed Leonardo’s arms and placed them behind his back around the beam. He removed Leonardo’s belt from his waist, wound it around his wrists, and tightened the belt as much as he could. Theoretically, Leonardo wouldn’t be going anywhere.
Bronson stood up and admired his work. How did I know what to do? Who am I? What am I? The possibilities filled his mind with cobwebs.
Before leaving him, Bronson cleared the area around Leonardo so that no matter how far he stretched, he wouldn’t be able to reach anything that might help him.
Again, how did I know this is what I’m supposed to do? Oh, Carol. Carol, my love. I hope I’m someone good enough for you.
Inwardly, he smiled. He would never be good enough for Carol. She stood in a circle all by herself. Best wife ever. Best mother ever. Best—
He had children! Little Carol and…and…
Bronson massaged his forehead. Little bits of his past came like small bursts of light only to have his hopes drenched by a darkness so intense that it left Bronson in turmoil. “Come on, Dog. Let’s go see what else we can uncover.
Dog stood up and walked beside him.
Bronson cast Leonardo one last look. “Have a good rest. I’ll be back so we can talk.” Bronson wanted to stay, wake this man up, and get the answers he so much desired. This was the man who could fill in all the gaps in his life, and here Bronson was, walking away from him and heading toward definite uncertainties. Crazy or not, Bronson’s gut told him this was what he had to do.
And a long time ago, he had learned to always trust his gut instincts or at least he thought he had.
Chapter 43
Daniel spent his time looking at the mo
untains to the north, the east, the west, and finally to the south of him. The sky above them was mottled with white, puffy clouds. They should be gray and the sky should be an angry red because neither the sky nor the mountains provided any sanctuary for him or Sandy.
All hope had drained out of Daniel like a giant leaking sponge. Why hadn’t Uncle Harry come? Daniel had been so sure he would show up and rescue them. But so far, he remained a no show. That realization ate away at Daniel.
Maybe his uncle had been more seriously hurt than he had assumed. What if he was— He couldn’t complete the thought. A lump the size of a lemon formed in Daniel’s throat. He looked away from the mountains and focused on the rolling hills that surrounded him. Stunted, desperate-looking trees covered the area. Under them, the yellow grass rippled nervously in the breeze.
Had they too lost all hope? The water they so desperately needed was nowhere in sight and neither was Uncle Harry. Why? What had happened?
A gentle breeze blew through the forest, chilling Daniel. Again, he moved his arms up and down very slowly, leading Pablo to believe he was cold. But the truth was the occasional nippy weather had nothing to do with his movements. He was tired of sitting, his back pinned to a tree, his hands tied behind his back, his legs tied together.
He moved his arms up and down again. Maybe the friction would eventually cut the rope and he’d be free to defend Sandy and himself.
Of the two, Daniel feared Pablo the most. Funny, how he had never recognized the mean streak Pablo carried. Unfortunately, Aunt Bobbi had chosen Leonardo to do who knows what, leaving Pablo to guard them. Those were the facts and Daniel had no control over them. No use brooding about what he could not change.
Instead, he should focus on what he could do. No use relying on Uncle Harry to rescue them. It was up to him now to save Sandy and hopefully even himself. But how? He didn’t have the training his uncle did, and he certainly didn’t have a weapon. Having spent most of his time cramming for tests so he could attend one of the best graduate schools, he never developed an interest in guns. He didn’t even know how to use one.
