Judged (The Mercenary Series Book 4)

by Marissa Farrar

  Eddie squared his narrow shoulders. “You’re making this my business.”

  I admired Eddie for standing up to Callum for once, but I didn’t think things were going to go well for him.

  Callum swaggered toward the smaller man, puffing out his chest like a goddamned peacock. “I think someone is stepping way out of line. You been to tell the C.O.s you were the one to start the fight?”

  Eddie scowled behind his glasses. “No, because I didn’t.”

  “Of course, you did. Now do as we say, or you’re going to have bigger problems to deal with.”

  I stepped in. “Come on, Eddie didn’t do anything, and there’s no way the guards are going to believe for a second he was the one who started it.”

  “Mind your fucking business,” Callum snapped, glaring at me. Something dawned across his face. “Actually, if you care so much about this little bitch, you go to the guards and tell them you were the one to start the fight. We want our yard time back, right boys?”

  His friends all nodded in agreement, not that they had enough brains between them to actually make a decision for themselves.

  “You don’t have to do that,” muttered Eddie, glancing away.

  I felt bad for Eddie, but I couldn’t be the one to take the blame. I needed to think about Vee. If I was down in Solitary for a matter of days, and she came to the prison, needing something from me, and I was unable to see her, I’d never forgive myself. What if I got out of the hole only to learn something terrible had happened to her and I’d have been able to do something to stop it? I had to put her and the baby above Eddie. It was as simple as that.

  With my stomach twisted in turmoil, I shook my head. “Sorry, Eddie. You’re on your own with this one.”

  A smile of triumph spread across Callum’s face, and I wanted to punch him in the mouth and relieve him of his teeth. That son-of-a-bitch thought he had won, and in a way, he had. Disappointment hung from Eddie’s features, but he shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Callum gave Eddie a shove. “Go on then. Go and see the C.O.s.”

  Eddie stood his ground. “I’m still not doing it.”

  “What?” His lip curled in anger.

  “No. Do what you want. Say what you want. I don’t care. I’m not doing it.”

  “Just go, Eddie,” I said, hating the words coming from my mouth, but worrying about what Callum and the others would do more.

  “No.” And he turned and walked away.

  “You’re going to regret this,” Callum yelled after him.

  Chapter Sixteen

  V

  I called Dylan Ferrera and asked him to come to the house so I could tell him what was going on. He needed to know about Leon Millen and the Blood Legion, or I was going to end up with a turf war on my hands and more people would end up dead.

  I paced my father’s office, chewing at my thumb nail, and staring down at the floor, lost in thought. My father had once walked these floors, just as I was doing now. Would he ever make it back here again? I struggled to imagine what he would make of the mess left in his wake. If he were in my place, he’d have both X and the members of the Blood Legion killed, but I couldn’t allow that.

  A lazy bluebottle smacked against the window, the buzzing distracting me until I open the window and shooed it out. Within thirty minutes, Dylan arrived, storming into the house.

  He stood in front of me, his green eyes shining with anger. “What the fuck is this, Verity? I don’t appreciate being called to the house like your little lapdog.”

  I remained calm. “There’s been a development.”

  “Is your father back?”

  “No, but he’s been in touch.”

  “And?” He was angry and impatient. I didn’t blame him. I’d be suspicious of me, too, if I was in his situation.

  “This deal he’s been working on, he needs to put up a little collateral to show he’s serious about working with them.”

  Dylan frowned. “You need money?”

  I shook my head. “Not exactly. We need to give over the north-east sector to the Blood Legion.”

  His frown deepened. “Those white supremacist fuck-heads?”

  “Yeah, those ones.”

  “Why the hell would your father want to work with them?”

  “He wouldn’t tell me the details, but it sounds like it’s a way to free up some serious cash in return for the business. He just told me to make sure no one stands in their way.”

  Dylan pushed his hand through his short brown hair. “This is insane. I need to talk to him myself. His cell phone just goes through to voice mail every time.”

  “He’s in some kind of connection blackout,” I said, thinking fast. “I already told you. This is big. Really big. The two sides have set up a temporary base of operations so they can build up a cash reserve. He’ll be in touch as soon as he’s ready, I’m sure.”

  I wished I could tell him the truth, so we could figure out a way to keep Leon Millen and the rest of the Blood Legion out of our territory, but it wouldn’t work. Not until X was out of jail could I risk losing the support of my father’s men. I needed to carry on as though everything was okay.

  “I’m not asking you to do anything with this, Dylan, except step out of the way and let them get on with it.”

  “Our regulars aren’t going to be happy if those nut jobs show up and start demanding money.”

  I sighed. “Okay, do the rounds and let people know they’ll be paying someone else for a while.”

  “I don’t like this, Verity. Businesses on our turf pay us to keep them safe. No one is going to go unscathed with that bunch of goons hanging around.”

  “I know. This is only temporary. We just have to be seen to be doing the right thing. My dad won’t be happy either if you guys mess this up for him.”

  I could see Dylan didn’t like it. I didn’t blame him. I didn’t like it either, but I had no choice.

  “Fine,” he agreed eventually. “But make sure Mickey knows we’re doing everything he’s asking. If these gang members start messing with the crew, though, I can’t promise we won’t step in.”

  I nodded. “That sounds reasonable.”

  I showed Dylan to the front door, glad things had gone as smoothly as they had. I hoped Leon and the Blood Legion weren’t going to cause too much trouble.

  “Hey, Verity,” he said, turning back to me on the front step. “Next time you talk to Mickey, make sure you tell him I need to speak with him, okay?”

  “I’ll do the best I can,” I replied.

  He nodded then turned and left. I remained in the doorway, watching him go.

  “Well, that went better than expected.”

  I jumped at Nicole’s voice behind me, and then turned to face her. “Yeah. For the moment. I’m not looking forward to the next few days or weeks if things get ugly, though.”

  Her lips twisted. “Me either.”

  “So, are you ready?” I asked her.

  She nodded. “As I’ll ever be.”

  Nicole and I had a job we needed to finish. Twenty-four hours had passed since we’d heard the news our father was still alive and in the hospital. We’d already discussed that as soon as Dylan had been taken care of, we’d be doing the drive up north to the hospital where our father had been admitted.

  “You don’t have to come,” I told Nickie. “It’ll look better if you do, and we’ll be more likely to get access to him, but I understand if you’d rather stay here.”

  She shook her head. “No, I’m coming. I want to make sure the son-of-a-bitch is really dead this time.”

  Nicole had gotten over the initial shock of Detective Caraway’s news. Like me, she only wanted him out of our lives for good. The man had done nothing but cause us pain. Killing our own father wasn’t going to be an easy thing, but we both knew it was the only way to be certain he wouldn’t hurt us again.

  I hoped we’d get farther than the end of our street this time.

  We grabbed what we needed
and headed out to the car.

  “How are you feeling?” Nicole asked when we were on the road.

  “Okay.” I placed the hand not on the steering wheel over my stomach. Stretchy pants and over-sized shirts were quickly becoming my outfit of choice. I was still able to hide my pregnancy, but I didn’t know for how much longer. My height helped spread the bump out a little. “I can’t believe I’m five months already.”

  I must have been one of the few women who wasn’t looking forward to their baby being born. I was filled with guilt at the idea of bringing a child into this world. I’d sworn my baby wouldn’t be raised in the same environment I’d been brought up in, but right now it was looking as though I wouldn’t have any choice.

  We drove most of the way in silence. We were armed, but I didn’t plan on shooting him. It was going to need to be done in a far more discreet manner. I wanted it to look as though he’d succumbed to his injuries rather than been killed. The last thing I needed was to end up in prison. Having this baby out here was going to be bad enough. I didn’t want to give birth handcuffed to a hospital bed. No, I’d either mess with his meds, or I’d inject an air bubble into his IV. Hell, I’d put a pillow over his face and smother him if I had to.

  There were plenty of ways to kill someone.

  My nerves increased the more miles we covered. I wondered how he’d be, and how he’d react if he was conscious and saw us again. Would he remember it was Nicole who’d hit him? He hadn’t told the police what we’d done, that was for sure. They’d have been knocking on our door if he had. I figured, if he did remember, it would be a hard tale to spin, explaining what we were all doing out there in the first place.

  For the millionth time in the last few weeks, I wished I had X with me. He’d have taken care of this on my behalf, would have slipped into the hospital, killed my father where he lay, and been out of the building again before anyone even realized Mickey Five Fingers was dead.

  Eventually, we reached the hospital where my father was staying. I pulled into a space and turned off the engine.

  “Well, this is it,” said Nicole. I could hear the tremor in her voice.

  “We don’t have any choice,” I said, as much to myself as her. “Remember Mom, remember Mateo. Remember X locked away inside. Those are all the things he has to pay for.”

  She nodded. “I know.”

  We stared at each other, so many unspoken words passing between us. Are we really going to do this? Murder our father. What kind of people are we? But we couldn’t have any doubts. We needed to work fast and without emotion.

  I gave Nicole a tight smile, reached out and squeezed her hand, and then turned from her and climbed out of the car. My legs felt weak, my stomach loose, and I knew it was the result of the adrenaline firing through my system. I took a couple of slow, deep breaths, trying to calm my rapid heartrate.

  Together, we walked toward the entrance of the hospital. A couple of people sat in wheelchairs outside, one of them smoking, the other one chatting to another person standing beside the chair. We were given some cursory glances, and I forced myself to smile. I needed to remember we were two loving daughters visiting our sick father. That was the impression we needed to give people. Of course, as soon as anyone looked into our background and went through the relationship we had with our father, they’d soon see that couldn’t be further from the truth. I still hoped no one would ever think us capable of killing him, however. I didn’t want either of us to be a suspect in his death.

  We passed through the doors, which slid open as we approached, and then headed to the reception. A harried-looking woman was shuffling through paperwork and didn’t look up as we came to a halt in front of her.

  “How can I help?” she asked, without even lifting her head from what she was doing.

  Nerves churned my stomach. “Our father, Michael Guerra, was admitted a couple of days ago. We only just found out and we’d really like to see him.”

  “One moment, please.”

  The phone rang and she answered it.

  Nicole and I exchanged a glance. The waiting was making it worse. I wanted to get this over with.

  The woman on reception finished the call and hung up. She picked up a piece of paper and then frowned at us as though she’d forgotten we were there. “Sorry, what was the name again?”

  “Michael Guerra,” I repeated.

  “Right.” She turned to her computer and started tapping on the keys. I leaned forward, stretched across the counter, in the hope I might spot a list somewhere with names and room numbers.

  She frowned at the screen. “You’re his daughters, you say?”

  “Yes. Verity and Nicole Guerra.”

  “I’m sorry to tell you, Miss Guerra, but your father discharged himself yesterday.” She frowned at the screen again. “Actually, checking the notes, he didn’t even bother to discharge himself. It seems the nurse went in to check on him, and he was already gone.”

  “Gone? What do you mean gone? He had a brain injury. He could be anywhere! Why the hell didn’t someone contact us sooner?”

  “We didn’t have any contact details on file for you. I don’t know who notified you that your father was here, but they didn’t pass on any of that information to us.”

  “The police,” I said, numbly. “The police told us he was here.”

  “Well, we have notified the local sheriff’s department, but they told us he’s a grown man and is allowed to leave the hospital if he desires. This isn’t a prison, Miss Guerra.”

  “I’m fully aware of that,” I snapped. “Tell me, what sort of state was he in before he left?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t answer that question, but I can find you someone who can.”

  “Yes, please. Do that.”

  “Take a seat over there. I’ll get someone to come and speak with you.”

  I took Nicole’s hand and guided her over to the bank of plastic seating. We sank down side by side. I looked into my sister’s face to see tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “He’ll come for us again,” she cried. “You know he will.”

  I put my arm around her shoulders. “Good. We’ll be ready for him.”

  “Will we?”

  “Yes. He’s an injured man. You heard what Detective Caraway said. He’s not strong. We’ll be prepared this time.”

  Someone approached. A young, anxious nurse, wringing her hands together and glancing between us. “You’re Mr. Guerra’s daughters?”

  I nodded and got to my feet. “That’s right. What happened?”

  “I don’t really know for sure. I did my morning check on him, and he was the same as he’d been for the last couple of days.”

  “Which was?” I prompted.

  “Sorry?” She looked confused.

  “How was he the same? What was his health like?”

  “He was conscious and communicating. He has suffered some paralysis down one side of his face, so his words were slurred and sometimes hard to understand. But he was able to stand, though he was weak. To be honest, I’m amazed he got out of the hospital alone.”

  “Is there a chance he wasn’t alone?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Could someone have come and collected him, but you just didn’t know about it?”

  “Possibly, though we do try to get the names of all visitors.”

  “Of course.”

  “Look, this isn’t normal, us losing patients, I mean. I am truly sorry. If you let me have your contact details, I’ll be sure to let you know should he turn back up again.”

  I nodded. The nurse handed me a pen and a piece of paper, and I scribbled down my cell phone number. The nurse glanced over at Nicole, who still had tears streaming down her face. She must have thought the tears were in concern for her father, rather than fear. If Mickey Five Fingers remembered Nicole had been the one who’d hit him, he wouldn’t let it rest. We didn’t, however, know how much he remembered, if anything at all. Hell, we didn’t even know if he stil
l remembered where he lived, or what kind of state he was in mentally.

  I put my arm around Nicole and helped her to her feet. She slumped against my side, and I squeezed her tight, that protectiveness I’d always felt with my little sister rising strong inside me.

  Together, we left the hospital and walked back out to the car. I found myself more alert than before, checking around for any sign of our father, before stepping out into the parking lot. My shoulders were tensed, every sense on high alert.

  We reached the car and I opened the doors. I reached for my gun, the weight of it comforting me. We’d not taken the weapons inside the hospital, knowing we wouldn’t have been able to shoot him and make it look like natural causes. I was glad to have it back.

  “What do we do now, Vee?” Nicole asked as she settled into the passenger seat, glancing out the window, her fingers at her mouth as she chewed anxiously at her nails. “Do we go into hiding again? You know he’s going to come looking for us.”

  I thought of the tangled web I’d found myself caught in—of needing Dylan Ferrera and his contacts to believe I was legit, in order to let the Blood Legion take what they wanted and in doing so leave X unharmed. I still needed Dylan to find the cleaner who dealt with Harvey Baglione’s body, so we could try to prove that X wasn’t guilty of his murder. If we ran again, I wouldn’t be able to control any of those things. X could end up murdered in jail.

  Plus, if we ran, we’d be looking over our shoulders the rest of our lives. We tried that once before and we’d still been found.

  “No,” I said, “we need to go back to the house. We need to carry on as though nothing has happened.”

  “But then he’ll be able to find us.” Her voice was reedy with panic.

  “So? Let him come.”

  Nicole’s expression did nothing to hide her fear. I forced myself to soften and took her hand. “Listen to me, if this is too much, you can go. I can find enough money to get you a long way from here, somewhere Dad will never think of looking for us.”

  A moment of hope passed across her face, but then she shook her head. “No, I can’t leave you to deal with all this. You’re pregnant, Vee. What kind of sister and aunt would I be if I ran off when you needed me the most? I know I’m not as brave as you, but just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.”