by S. W. Lauden
He crept along the edge of the garage, trying to get a better idea what he was up against. Then he heard something that almost made him laugh.
“Chick’s got balls, bro.”
Greg relaxed a little at the sound of Marco’s voice. He still wasn’t sure he was ready to face him, but it didn’t look like he had much choice. Greg went back into the garage for a last drink and to stash the Glock before stepping into the house for the first time in a couple of days. Marco sat at the kitchen table when Greg came through the living room, Eddie in the chair across from him. They took one look at the condition Greg was in and both dropped their eyes to the table.
“What the hell are you guys doing here? I thought we were getting robbed.”
Eddie went to stand, but Marco waved him off.
“Kristen asked us to swing by. She needs a few things for the baby.”
“So, you let yourselves in?”
“She gave me the key, bro. We were actually sitting here trying to figure out if we should wake you up.”
“I’m up now.”
Eddie kept his mouth shut up to that point, but couldn’t hold back any longer. He jumped up, pounding his fist on the table.
“You look like crap. I don’t know what the hell’s going on here, but you’re letting a lot of people down.”
That one stung, but Greg did his best to hide it. There were only a couple of people in the world he truly respected and Eddie was one of them. He couldn’t decide what hurt more—his words, or the pained look on his face. Greg was in no condition to defend himself, so he attacked instead.
“Maybe it’s time people around here stopped relying on me to fix all their problems.”
Eddie’s face flashed red. Marco leapt up, inserting himself between them.
“Both of you need to chill out. We didn’t come here to fight. Kristen asked for some help, but we aren’t picking sides. If anything, we want to make sure your family’s taken care of until you deal with your bullshit.”
“Spare me your junkie logic, Marco. Get whatever you came for and get out.”
“Come on, bro. You’re the reason Eddie and I are sober. You expect us to let you flame out like this?”
“For the last time: you, your sobriety, and anything else you’re dealing with are not my responsibility. Take care of yourselves for a change.”
Greg turned to leave. Eddie lunged, grabbing the back of his shirt. The momentum carried them into the living room, Greg tumbling to the ground with Eddie on his back. The old man growled in Greg’s ear while Marco clawed to pull him off.
“You don’t get to drink yourself to death because things aren’t going your way. We aren’t your responsibility, Greg—we’re your friends. Your family, godammit.”
Greg rolled to his side, bucking Eddie to the floor. Marco helped the old man stand, pushing him back into the kitchen. Greg pulled himself up on the edge of the entertainment center. His chest heaved and his body ached.
“You have one minute to get out of my house!”
Marco stepped forward, placing a hand on his shoulder. Greg slapped it away.
“I saved your life and this is how you repay me? Leave.”
Greg went out onto the patio while they gathered some things for Kristen and Timmy. It could have been the adrenaline pumping through his veins, but he was overcome with a sudden desire to see his son again. To hold him in his arms and tell him everything would be okay, even if it was a lie.
Eddie came outside with a bag of clothes, brushing by Greg on his way to the back gate. He reached the garage before turning around.
“I’m sorry about what happened inside. Things got out of control.”
Greg forced a smile.
“It’s okay, Eddie. You won’t lose any sobriety points for jumping me from behind.”
“I’d punch you right between the eyes if I thought it would help.”
“Worry about yourself.”
Eddie disappeared into the darkened alley right as Marco emerged. He had Timmy’s favorite stuffed animal in one hand, and a stack of board books in the other. It crushed Greg’s heart to know he was too drunk to see his own son.
“Please don’t tell Kristen what happened here tonight.”
“Whatever you say. It’s not like she can get any more bummed out at you.”
“What about you, Marco? Are you bummed at me, too?”
Marco shook his head, carefully forming his response.
“Greg Salem and I will always be cool, but I could do without the asshole standing in front of me right now.”
“What if this is who I am now?”
“Then I guess this is goodbye.”
Marco went into the alley to join Eddie. Greg waited until he heard their car drive off before stumbling back into the garage. He strangled the bottle, jamming it into his mouth. The vodka trickled down the sides of his face before he finally slammed it back down on the desk. Gabriella’s envelope grabbed his attention.
He picked it up, studying the note she had written. The jagged buzz washing over his brain delivered easy memories of her naked body. And with them came the realization that he might truly be a free man again, with no obligations and no allegiances. If Marco wasn’t willing to accept what Greg had become, then there was nothing stopping him from taking Gabriella up on her enticing offer.
Greg decided he’d resisted the inevitable long enough. He went into the bathroom to rinse off and put on some fresh clothes. But first another pull from the bottle. It was a long drive up to her house on the cliffs. He only hoped she’d have a drink waiting for him when he arrived.
h
The front gates of the Flores Estate were wide open when Greg pulled up. He’d made most of the drive with one eye open and both windows down. The fresh air and forced concentration made him feel almost human as he pulled up along the curb. Unfortunately, doubt began to creep in as well. Greg sat behind the wheel for several minutes, weighing his options.
Greg knew he’d sleep with her if he went inside. There was no other reason to be there, and he was only human. But there would be no coming back from it. Marco might be a super bro when it came to supporting his friends, but even he had his limits. Sleeping with his girlfriend topped the list.
The whole situation had gotten so out of control that Greg found himself laughing alone in the darkness of his car, high on the cliffs, with the rest of his life on the line. He laughed so hard that he started to cry.
There were so many people he could call, but he’d already disappointed all of them. Junior, Eddie, and the Police Chief in Virgil Heights—every one of them had always been there for Greg, and he’d let them all down. Even Chris and JJ, two people who needed him the most, were suffering the consequences of his choices. Worst of all, he’d turned his back on Officer Bob when he might be dying.
But it was the thought of Kristen and Timmy that made his blood run cold. He’d abandoned his own family, frozen them out completely. And now they were with Junior, probably trying to decide how to move on without him. The sad part is, they’ll probably be better off.
Greg wiped the tears from his face and pushed the door open. A cold wind whipped across his back as he walked up the driveway to the house. He could see the lights on inside, every window on the first floor lit up like a shopping mall. There were a couple of sports cars parked in the driveway like usual, but the helicopter was gone. He stepped up onto the porch and rang the doorbell. The chiming tones echoed through the cavernous rooms, but nobody came to answer. It offered another chance to change his mind—to make the right decision—but Greg was committed.
He went around to the side of the house, edging his way through the rose bushes and sculpted hedges. It seemed like an eternity before he rounded the corner leading to the backyard. He’d only gone a few yards when he heard splashing sounds in the distance. Things would go fast i
f she was already naked when he arrived.
The edge of the dancing blue water came into view when he heard her laugh. He stopped, listening to see if she was out there with anybody. His stomach dropped when he heard a man laughing along with her. Greg told himself that it might be a bodyguard, but knew better. This whole thing started with a job he never wanted to take, and now here he was—ready to destroy his entire world for one night with a woman who already had a date. How desperate can you get?
Greg reached the edge of the building, pressing his back against the cool bricks. He poked his head around the corner, spotting her in the hot tub. Her wet hair was slicked back with a drunken smile spread across her face. She squirmed between the two frat boys Greg and Marco had saved her from in the hotel room at The Cliffs. One of them had an arm around her bare shoulders, the other kissing her neck. It didn’t look like she needed any saving tonight.
Greg breathed an involuntary sigh of relief. He turned around to leave, walking straight into the barrel of a gun. It was in the grip of a hulking silhouette slowly emerging from the shadows. There was something familiar about the man standing in front of him, but Greg didn’t get the chance to figure out what it was. A second man came up behind him, bringing the butt of his gun down across the back of Greg’s head. The blow sent a jolt of pain down his neck and into his back as he collapsed to the ground. The follow-up kick made the lights go out.
Chapter 20
Jagged bolts of pain shot through Greg’s body, snapping him from his stupor. His head ached from the blow, a stabbing pain amplified by the dull throb of sustained alcohol consumption. Even with his mind swimming in clouds of confusion, Greg knew he was in serious trouble. He was standing upright, for starters, hands tied behind his back. An unwelcome weightlessness undermined his balance whenever he moved his feet, at odds with the noose around his neck. Soft music played somewhere in the background, a cruel soundtrack to his precarious situation.
Greg tried to relax, fighting waves of panic swelling inside of him. Whatever piece of furniture was just below the soles of his sneakers—A chair? A barstool? A stepladder?—it wobbled and shifted in response to the slightest movement, threatening to collapse all together. He did his best to stay absolutely still, fighting the urge to release the terrified screams building up inside of him.
Sweat and condensation from his hot breath accumulated in the plastic bag over his head, clinging to his face and choking out the air. It felt like he might drown in his own bodily fluids, if he didn’t accidentally hang himself first. He couldn’t decide which would be the worse way to die. Unless they plan to let me suffer before putting a bullet in the back of my head.
Anything could happen and there was nothing Greg could do to stop it. He didn’t even get to fantasize about being rescued since nobody knew where he was. Whatever horrors came next, he would have to endure them alone.
This mental balancing act raged on in his head until a high-pitched whining made it impossible to think at all. The squealing, screeching feedback dragged on so long that Greg half considered kicking off himself, and getting it over with. And then, as suddenly as the noise had come, everything went silent again. But only for a moment.
“Sorry about that, Greg. Tony always ran the mixing board.”
Gabriella’s voice boomed from every corner of the room. Greg at least knew where he was now—in the pool house recording studio. He clung to the revelation like a life vest in shark-infested waters, certain it did him no good.
“Testing one-two. Can you hear me in there?”
Greg nodded, unsure if she could see him or not.
“I’m glad you found the little note I left for you. Sorry you decided to take me up on my offer when I already had a date. Or two.”
She laughed into the microphone, the increased volume giving heavy undertones to her taunting giggles. Greg listened carefully, unable to tell if anybody else was in there with her. He only heard the sound of her rhythmic breathing.
“You want to make a record Greg? The microphones are all plugged in.”
“Won’t be easy with this bag over my face.”
“Good point. I’ll have one of my homeboys take it off.”
A large hand grabbed his shoulder while a second hand tore at the plastic. Dirty fingernails dug into Greg’s skin while ripping a hole to free his face. He gasped as the air flowed in, like emerging from under a huge wave. Gabriella’s words sounded like the voice of god coming through the speakers once his ears were exposed.
“Don’t get carried away out there. That stool you’re standing on has a couple screws loose.”
Greg looked around the room. Not much had changed since the last time he was there. Amps and drums were set up for recording all round him, but he was the one in the spotlight. He scanned the room for Gabriella, finding only a soft orange shape on the other side of the tinted mixing room window.
“Why am I up here like this?”
“Isn’t it obvious? You’re gonna die like the others. Just like your brother died.”
Greg’s fear collided with his anger, producing a bravado that would only get him killed faster.
“What the hell do you know about my brother?”
“I know what everybody else knows, thanks to that book. Your friend Tommy really seems to like writing about you. Too bad he couldn’t be here to take notes now.”
It was the first time in months Greg wished Tommy was there. But not Tommy the bestselling author—Greg wanted the gun-wielding Tommy who fought at his side during the shoot out the previous year. The Tommy who got on his motorcycle and chased Magnus Ursus and his men down the mountain, almost losing his life. That Tommy could get him out of this predicament. Unfortunately, he was probably doing a television interview or having dinner with a movie producer instead.
Greg knew there was little chance he’d get out of there alive. His only hope was to buy time until his luck changed.
“What the hell is this all about?”
“You’re supposed to be a smart guy. Figure it out.”
Greg tried, coming up blank. He guessed that Marco had stumbled onto something bigger than a cheating wife, but that’s as far as he got. Then he remembered the two young men he’d seen in the hot tub with Gabriella earlier.
“Those two guys from the hotel. They were never really going to hurt you, right?”
Her laughter echoed around the room.
“Hell no. They’re a couple of actors I hired so you could play the hero. Imagine how surprised I was when it was Marco who stepped up instead.”
“He learned from the best.”
“No doubt. He worships the ground you walk on. It’s too bad, though. He’s twice the man you’ll ever be.”
Greg flashed to the last exchange he had with his partner, gnashing his teeth at the ugly memory. Regrets wouldn’t matter soon, but he hoped Marco could forgive him. Eddie too. He knew they would in time. That thought gave him comfort, even as his legs began to shake.
“Was that scene at the hotel some sort of twisted sex game you and Tony liked to play?”
“Nope. That was all my idea. Well, me and my homeboys…”
Images of the two bodyguards raced through his head. He could still feel the barrel of the gun pressed against his forehead, the crushing blow against the back of his skull. But it triggered another memory too, something he’d practically forgotten about until that moment.
“The two thugs who pistol whipped me. They were on the security camera footage from Santa Barbara.”
“Now I’m impressed. Took you long enough. But they weren’t just at that show…”
Greg thought about the shows they’d played; remembered the imposing bouncers wandering the clubs every night. They were supposed to be there protecting him and the rest of the band, but it turns out a few of them were hired killers. He wondered if they were hovering nearby at the moment,
waiting for the signal to kick the stool out from under his feet—the final stop on their murderous tour.
Greg wished his hangover would go away so he had more brainpower. Another drink would do the trick too, but it also might screw with his balance.
“Why go to all the trouble? You could have killed me and gotten it over with.”
“That would be too easy. It’s way more fun to watch your whole world fall apart all around you. We had no idea you’d make it so easy for us.”
“Who’s ‘we’? You and Tony?”
“That fool didn’t even know what hit him. All I had to do was flash my tits and everything he had was mine.”
“So, you did kill him…”
“I couldn’t get the money unless he was gone, so I crushed him like a roach. Besides, I got tired of putting out for such a dirty old man. He was into some weird shit.”
Greg tried not to think about what she meant, his imagination running wild anyway.
“What does this have to do with Marco?”
Gabriella released a long sigh. It trailed off into an awkward moment of silence.
“He was my way of getting close to you, but now he’ll have to die, too. All of your friends will, one by one.”
“You didn’t have to involve him. You could have gone straight to me.”
“I told you, Greg, we know a lot about you. We knew it would drive you crazy to see your best friend score a hot piece of ass. It worked perfectly.”
“Your loss. He fell for you.”
