by Gina LaManna
Something told me that I’d just locked my friends into a van that was due to explode in thirty minutes.
CHAPTER 44
“Can’t you go any faster?” I asked, crossing my arms in the back of the horse-drawn carriage.
“That’s not romantic,” the driver said. “We’ll go at the speed I say.”
“And you’re not a carriage driver.” I scanned the man holding the reins. A big, bulky figure, he had sunglasses pulled down over his eyes despite the dark of night, and a bulge underneath his jacket that wasn’t a pair of socks in his pocket.
“What gave it away?”
I rolled my eyes. If not the gun, there was the whole fact that he hadn’t asked for money. Or the fact that he had no interest in carrying on a light conversation about what a single girl like me was doing buying herself a carriage ride in the middle of winter.
“Look, we’ve got to hurry it up,” I pleaded. “Please.”
The man didn’t bother to respond, nor did he urge the horses faster. I tapped my foot, impatient to get to the destination even though I was almost guaranteed to find an unpleasant surprise at the other end of the journey.
A whole six minutes later, we crossed the bridge. The minutes had turned into hours, and I’d run through the entire scenario in my head once more. I had none of the items on me that I’d started with, except for my clothes. I had no phone, no GPS, no trace of anything, except the van parked along the river with Clay and Meg inside. Now that I’d left them behind, I was flying solo.
My biggest hope was that The Fish wanted something from me, and when I arrived he’d let the girls go. If he wanted money, a favor, anything tangible, I could get it. I had resources. But what could he want? Why go through all of this?
My second hope was that Anthony had gotten the message on his voicemail and followed the clue to my apartment. If he made it that far, he’d know that something was wrong. Same with my father.
As the carriage ground to a stop, I looked at the driver. “Where to now?”
He pointed. A shiny black limousine pulled up. “Have a good evening, ma’am.”
I climbed down, watching as the driver tipped his shades in my direction, as if he’d done me a favor. For the brief moment his glasses were down, I caught a glimpse of his face. He was a stranger. At least, I’d never seen him before, which meant he was either a thug for hire, or one of The Fish’s minions that I hadn’t yet had the pleasure of meeting.
I climbed into the limo with a driver who was even less chatty than the one before. We drove in silence across town. I watched out the window as we backtracked, looped, and generally made sure that nobody was following us.
Eventually, my ride in the limo came to an end. From there, I was dumped into a taxi, and after the real taxi came one of those bike taxis – the kind powered by a man and his legs. The poor guy picked me up from the real taxi and pumped his thighs at lightning speed. My bicycle ride finished directly in front of the St. Paul Cathedral where I was instructed to climb into the back seat of yet a different vehicle.
I faked a yawn as the car rolled away from the curb. The Cathedral, a majestic, strong structure looming overhead at first, shrank and grew further and further away as we coasted down a hill. This car veered through Rice Park in downtown where decorative lights blinked with a merriness I couldn’t muster today. Any other day, I would’ve been enchanted by the sight of soft, snow-covered branches tinged all shades of reds and greens, pinks and purples, blues and yellows, the rows of bulbs draped majestically around the iconic park.
“I’m beginning to think The Fish doesn’t exist at all,” I said dryly. I kicked the back of the car seat to get the driver’s attention. He, too, was dressed in a black suit, complete with the telltale shiny object strapped to his waist and dark shades blocking his eyes from view. “I think you all are just expensive chauffeurs.”
This driver was the least talkative of all, which wasn’t saying much. I sighed again. Based off of the clock on the dashboard, the journey couldn’t have taken more than twenty minutes from the van ride. But those twenty minutes had extended to years – lifetimes, even – filled with worry for Meg and Clay, fear for the girls, and uncertainty for what would become of me when we reached our destination.
“Get out,” the driver said.
My hands twitched with nervousness. When he spoke, the car was moving at a pretty good clip, and I didn’t feel like jumping out. “Excuse me?”
“Now. Get out.” The man stepped on the brakes then, a bad idea considering the invisible patch of black ice on the street.
We careened, left, right, and then left again, and it was everything I could do not to scream as we fishtailed in a complete 180-degree turn.
“Get out,” he said again, when we finally came to a screeching halt, the back half of the vehicle partially wedged in a snow bank.
“You have nerves of steel,” I said, pushing open the door.
My feet barely hit the ground before the driver burned rubber getting out of the snowdrift. As his car scuttled off down the street, the rear tires sprayed wildly, coating my clothes with all shades of gray-colored sludge.
I blinked and stood still as I got my bearings. Up until now, someone had always been waiting to shuffle me right into the next mode of transportation. This time, I was surrounded by an eerie silence. There were no pedal pubs, no taxis, no limos, no nothing waiting to haul me off to some unknown location.
I looked up and down the street.
I waited.
I held my breath.
When I calmed down and actually looked around, I recognized the location. The street corner where the latest driver had dropped me was familiar, and so was the building before me. It was a restaurant by the name of Marinellos, which doubled as Carlos’s base of operations, his trusted dinner spot, and a generally safe place for family business.
I walked forward, each burning, icy breath building tension as I reached the front door to the family restaurant.
Somewhere, deep inside, I knew this would be the end. It’d be the end for either The Fish or me, or for whatever we had going between us. Leading me to Marinellos had been part of his plan, I was sure of it. A plan that’d been a long time in the making.
I extended a hand, my fingers reaching for the entrance to the front door. As I pulled it open, I made a promise to myself: there would be no “next time” for The Fish and me. Tonight, one of us would be walking away a winner. The other would be lucky to walk away at all.
CHAPTER 45
“What do you think of the location?” The smooth voice came from a table in the back of the restaurant. Unlike most evenings, the place was empty. I walked past the spot where the bouncer, a scary guy who made sure nobody – including the police – towed Carlos’s fleet of illegally parked vehicles, was notably absent. So were the kisses he left on my cheek, and the reassurances that everything would be okay.
Tonight, a cool darkness set in as I let the heavy door close behind me. My eyes adjusted to the absence of light as I hesitated in the doorway, waiting for the voice to speak again.
“We’ve really brought things full circle, haven’t we?” Again, those slippery words slithered across the bar and over the gelato counter until the very molecules of The Fish permeated my space bubble and caused goosebumps to prickle my skin.
“Would you like a gelato?” he asked.
“No.” I surprised myself. My heart rattled my rib cage, but somehow, my answer had sounded quick, calm – maybe even confident.
Something inside clicked, and the fear started to slip away. Maybe it was the fact that my mom had spent time in this restaurant. Maybe it was because Anthony had scooped my first gelato behind this very counter, his fiery gaze at odds with the creamy, cool texture of the dessert. Maybe it was the fact that deep down, I was bone tired of dealing with this mastermind. Whatever might’ve caused the switch to flip, all I knew was that I was ready to be done. For good or for bad, I wanted out.
“No to th
e gelato? Now, that’s a first,” he said, a hint of amusement dancing on the edge of his words.
I stepped deeper into the restaurant, my eyes scanning the old-timey photos on the wall, some of which featured the beautiful, smiling face of my mother. A wave of nostalgia washed over me, and I realized that this might be a good place to take my father, if I made it out alive.
“Don’t talk like you know me,” I said. “Stalking a person doesn’t mean you know what I like and dislike, or who I love and hate.”
The Fish blinked as I spat the last word out. I had made my way far enough into the dining area that I could see his expression, his clothes, the swirl of hair that looked out of place, although it had probably been combed to look just a little ruffled.
“Hate, that’s a strong word.” He sat behind a table in the darkest, deepest corner of the dining area, shadow falling over half his face. Only the moonlight streaming through the window provided any light to see, the jagged angle of the shadows giving off a Scarface impression.
“I’ve always said that I’m not capable of hating anyone, but I’m currently reevaluating that.” I crossed my arms, keeping my gaze steady as I took in his crisp, black shirt – a button-down which ended above a pair of standard black jeans. Dark, casual, though somewhat upscale – the man did “charming” well, I had to admit. More than a few girls would turn their heads to catch his blue eyes in a bar, though I wondered how quickly they’d change their tune if they discovered who he was inside.
“What would make your decision easier?” He tilted his head slightly, the blue irises catching a glimmer of light, the reflection cold, hard sapphires. “You don’t hate me, Lacey. You like me. This game we play.”
“This isn’t a game,” I said. “You’re hurting innocent people. You shot a squirrel. You kidnapped my cousins. You’re a murderer. The only thing I’m wondering is whether you have any remorse for the things you’ve done. One of the earliest signs of a psychopathic serial killer is hurting animals, they say.”
“I don’t hurt animals.”
“You’re torturing my family, one person after the next. Why?”
“All in time.” His eyes shifted down for a brief second, and a different glow appeared on his face.
My eyes followed his, our gazes landing on the table as a shiver wracked my body. There sat a phone with a digital clock display. Ten minutes blinked up at us. “Is that…” I pointed. “Is that a timer?”
“You keep talking, I keep time on the clock.” He smiled down at the display. “It’s linked to the bomb underneath your cousin’s van. You don’t happen to have anything you care about in the van, do you?”
My eyes burned as they stared into his. “I thought you said the bomb was set to go off in thirty minutes.”
He twisted his lips into an apologetic smirk. “I lied.”
“I’m talking. Shouldn’t there be a few more minutes on there?”
9:38.
“Oh, Lacey. We’ve talked about manners so many times by now.” He raised his hands from where they’d been folded in his lap, and he placed a deck of cards on the table. “Let’s start with lesson number one. Please and thank you go a long way, dear,” he said, mimicking Nora. “Let’s see if you understand. What’s the magic word?”
I focused on the deck of cards, swallowing hard. Asking this man nicely for anything would never, could never, be easy. “Please add more time to the clock.”
The Fish picked up the deck of cards and began a lazy shuffle.
8:58.
“Oh, I suppose,” he said, after a long wait. When he tacked on an additional two minutes, I took a breath. Double digits gave me some hope that he still needed information from me. And if he needed information from me, he’d be more likely to keep me and my friends alive. “You’re welcome.”
“What do you want me to talk about?” I watched the clock with relentless abandon, and when ten seconds had counted down without a response from him, I jumped in with another question. “Look, I’m talking, but I don’t know what you want me to say. Where are the girls?”
“They’re here. Safe.”
“Why did you take them?” My breath came out in harsh gasps.
9:22.
“Because I needed some insurance, and I needed some answers.”
“I’m here to give you answers!” I’d opened my mouth, and the words poured out. I hadn’t intended to shout. Trying for composure, I shifted my weight back and forth and took a breath. “What answers?”
“Everything, Lacey. Why? What does Carlos want from me?”
“From you?” I squinted. “Seeing how I’m not Carlos, I wouldn’t know the answer to that.”
“But you’re his granddaughter.”
“Do you think that means he tells me what’s on his mind?” I laughed, trying to ignore the tick tock of the moving numbers. “That’s funny. Also, I’m talking. Add some more time if you want me to continue – that’s my price.”
“You’re saying words, but not giving me answers.” His lips fell into a thin line. “What does he want from me?”
My palms grew sweaty. “Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I don’t believe you.” He reached for the cards, his blue eyes sharp as he shuffled the deck over and over and over again until it was almost mesmerizing. “You’ve been after me since the beginning. I offered to keep things peaceful.”
“You came after me.” I pointed a thumb at my chest. “I had no clue who you even were until you showed up outside of Anastasia’s house back in July. You ruined my birthday party. You shot a squirrel. You came after me.”
“It started long before that.”
“Really? Then please, fill me in because I’m not aware. And add some time; you’re a dead man if that clock hits zero.”
“You wouldn’t kill me. You have bad manners and good morals. What an unfortunate combination.”
“Sometimes people with good morals do bad things.” I rubbed a hand across my forehead, watching him out of the corner of my eye. “And you know what else is good about having friends and family? Insurance. Even if you kill me and let the bomb run down to zero, someone else will come after you. That’s what families are for.”
“Not most families. Yours, I’d believe it. Which is why we need to get rid of them.”
“My family? What have they done to you?”
“I don’t plan to get rid of your family one by one…” The Fish’s voice trailed off as he gave a sharp rap of the deck against the table. Then, very slowly, painstakingly slow, he dealt a game of solitaire on the table. “No, I won’t get rid of them one by one.”
I held my breath, watching as he flipped over four of the top cards.
Aces, each one of them.
“Do you like my magic trick?” He looked up, a smile on his face. “As you can see, I don’t go for the little fishies. I go for the aces, the king who rules them all.”
“You want Carlos.” My voice hovered above a whisper. “What are you planning to do with my grandfather?”
“What am I doing? I’m not going to do anything, but you are.” The Fish looked up, his eyes icy. “Tonight is a night of games, Lacey. Games to get you here. I thought it would be a fun way to wrap up our relationship since you’ve been playing games with me all along.”
“I haven’t been playing games with you.”
“The flour.” The Fish flipped over a king, laying it on top of the ace. “You stole it from my men back on your first assignment for your grandfather.”
“That belonged to Carlos,” I said. “I was hunting down the stolen flour for my grandfather. You stole it from him.”
“It wasn’t his to steal in the first place.”
I shook my head. “If it’s money you want we can give it to you.”
“Then there was the spa. You shut down my spa. Kitty worked for me.” The Fish didn’t let me speak before he continued. “Did you ever wonder why Carlos had you go after the spa?”
“Because it
was wrong! Carlos didn’t know it was your business. You weren’t the target.”
“Really. You believe that?”
I cleared my throat. Carlos knew everything. But I wouldn’t admit that now. “He didn’t know. He would have told me.”
“You said it yourself, he doesn’t tell you all that much.”
Again, I had no response.
“Do you see my predicament?” The Fish gave a one-armed shrug. “I have a target on my back from your grandfather. And I don’t like it. He’s been after me for years, using you to do his dirty work.”
“That’s not true,” I said. “My first assignment, your name never came up. It was the Russians.”
“That doesn’t mean I don’t have alliances with them.”
“Coincidence,” I said, my words sounding more confident than I felt.
“You exposed my undercover contact in that Vegas wedding, thanks to that guy with the orange face and the loud girlfriend.”
“Donald?” I coughed. “Donald…the boring banker who was supposed to marry Vivian, he worked for you?”
“In this family it sure is hard to get a guy on the inside.” The Fish shook his head. “I thought we’d finally clinched it, with him set to marry that tramp—”
“Hey, Vivian’s not a tramp,” I said. “She’s just…boisterous.”
“Whatever she is, you ruined it.”
“I didn’t ruin it,” I said. “She still loved Joey-the-Pumpkin. Viv and Donald would have never worked out.”
“But they might have lasted long enough for me to get the information I needed from your family.” The Fish paused. “I don’t think you’re stupid, Lacey, believe it or not. So let’s look at this objectively. Your first three projects for your grandfather have only one common link – and that link is me. Tell me you aren’t starting to see my point?”
