Annihilate Them

by Christina Ross

  He furrowed his brow at her. “What do you mean?”

  “Covering the license plates with dirt. Now, no one will be able to call in the numbers. All anyone will know is that we’re in a black Murano, which this city is filled with. When we’re well out of sight, pull over somewhere so I can run outside and clean the plates. Then we go to Rowe.”

  “Done,” he said.

  “It’s eight-thirty,” she said. “You should go and position yourself near her apartment before she comes out. Are you OK?”

  “Mostly.”

  “That’s about right,” she said. “It’s also good. You’re not overly confident, which means that you’re on your toes. Now, here,” she said as she leaned toward him. “Give your big sister a kiss on each cheek. That’s right. I’m here for you, Carlo. I’ll be watching and hoping for the best. Do what you can. Together, we’ll handle what comes.”

  “I love you, Gia.”

  “I love you, too, stud.”

  He grinned when she said that. “We’ll get this done, Gia.”

  “That’s good to hear,” she said. “Because if we don’t? We’re fucked.”

  WHEN CARLO LEFT THE vehicle, Gia turned and watched him walk down the sidewalk until he faded from sight. As she watched him go, she was aware of some women turning to look at him in lust or delight as he strolled past them.

  She was betting on his looks. She was betting that Janice would be seduced by his looks.

  She has to be, she thought. She’s a former stripper and probably a former prostitute. There’s no way that she can ignore Carlo or his charms...

  Minutes passed. Minutes that seemed like hours to her. With her nerves rising, she weighed the bottle of chloroform in one hand, clenched the white cloth in her other, and then checked the time on her watch—eight-fifty!—before she looked outside the SUV again and saw the growing number of people hurrying by on the sidewalk.

  Fucking hell, she thought. There’s too many of them...

  Ten minutes later—and just on time—she saw Janice Jones in the far distance walking toward her, her bright blonde ponytail bouncing behind her in ways that seemed ludicrous to Gia given what Jones was walking into. Carlo was not far behind her, and Gia saw that his expression was tense for good reason—there were too many people around them.

  He knew it. She knew it.

  God, help us...

  On edge, Gia shifted around in her seat and looked out the back window as they approached. Fearing for her brother and the situation at hand, she removed her gun from the back of her pants. It wasn’t part of the plan, but if she had to use it, she would.

  Too many people, too many people, too many people...

  In a city filled with heroes.

  She twirled the bottle of chloroform in her hands, itching to open it and use it now, though she knew that she couldn’t.

  Not yet... Not yet...

  Many had heard about the drug from movies, but Gia had used it enough times in the past to know that Hollywood exaggerated everything when it came to science. For the chloroform to work, a rag needed to be freshly soaked before it was pressed against the mouth and nose of the victim. That way, they’d breathe in the toxin at its highest concentration, and unconsciousness would quickly follow. But if the toxin was stale? Good luck with that, because it wouldn’t be nearly as effective.

  For this to work—for this to really send Jones into the ether—she needed to anticipate when Carlo would nod at her to shove open the door. And when he did? She needed to have the cloth already soaked with the liquid.

  No easy task...

  As they moved closer to her, Gia took in the area around them. When she saw a young police officer walking close behind Carlo, her lips parted in horror and disbelief.

  “No,” she said aloud.

  Carlo kept moving forward, keeping in time with Jones, unaware that a beat cop was in the mix.

  Her stomach clenched.

  Her forehead broke out into a cold sweat.

  There was no way in hell that she could lose Carlo to this...

  Carlo and Janice were about three feet away from the SUV when he approached her. Gia could almost read his lips when he said, “Excuse me, miss.”

  And Jones stopped just as the cop neared.

  People hurried past them, eager to get to work on time.

  Carlo engaged Janice with a smile and a confused shrug while Gia watched Janice’s eyes rove over her brother’s body. She took a small step away from him, but then she seemed to relax as he spoke to her. And then her head tilted to the right as she smiled at him.

  Look behind you! Gia wanted to scream at Carlo. The cop is almost upon you! Don’t do anything until he passes!

  She watched Jones turn behind her and point to the east, where the Manhattan Plaza Health Club was located. It was clear that she was giving Carlo directions to the club. She could almost hear her saying, “It’s just over there,” as the cop walked by the SUV, his gun heavy at his side.

  When her brother caught sight of him, Carlo didn’t flinch. Instead, he looked at the man for a lingering moment, held strong, and kept his wits about him—which made her proud of him. He continued to engage Jones in conversation even as she edged away, clearly eager to move on and get to her workout.

  But then Carlo bought time and stopped her when he reached for the iPhone clipped to the side of his Spandex pants. He turned it on and said something that made her blush.

  This time, she stepped toward him again with a smile upon her lips, clearly flattered by whatever he’d said.

  You’re doing well, Gia thought. But there are still too many people around you. And she won’t stay there forever—we both know that.

  As he tapped something into his phone, a man hurrying past him nudged Carlo’s arm. In faux irritation, Carlo took that moment to look around him so that he could assess the crowds on the sidewalk. He was running out of time to keep her there—they both knew it. And so Gia opened the bottle of chloroform, spilled a great deal of the heady liquid onto the cloth, and prepared herself for the battle that was to come.

  With the cloth in her left hand and her gun in the other, she waited for Carlo to give her the cue that he was ready to act. And then, just as Jones was about to walk away from him, he grimaced in Gia’s direction, winked at her as if to say that this might be it for them—and then gave her the nod.

  In a flash, Gia threw open the door.

  In a blur, Carlo swept a bewildered Janice Jones off her feet and into his arms, and then he thrust her into the SUV so forcefully that she slid across Gia’s lap and slammed her head against the other door. As quickly as she could, Gia pounced. She smashed the cloth over Jones’ mouth and nose, but Jones was strong. Jones was fit. And given the way she was thrashing and clinging for her life right now? It was clear that she also was a fighter. She rammed her elbow into Gia’s ribcage as Gia heard people scream on the street.

  “Throw me your gun,” Carlo shouted.

  With Janice writhing against her, Gia did her best, but when she threw the gun, she heard it hit the pavement—instead of Carlo’s outstretched hands.

  “Get the fuck off me!” Jones screamed in a muffled fury.

  When Carlo slammed the door shut, she knew this was it—either they’d win this, or they’d lose. If they were going to get out of here, she first needed to silence Jones and hope to hell that Carlo could retrieve the gun and get into the SUV before something terrible happened.

  And then something terrible did happen.

  As she continued to cover Jones’ face with the cloth—and as Jones started to gag on its fumes while she twisted wildly beneath Gia, her limbs flailing out and striking her in the face while Gia bore down even harder—Gia caught a glimpse of an unknown man rushing toward Carlo and then slamming him against the driver’s side door.

  She saw the back of her brother’s head connect with the window with a loud thwack. Then, she heard the sound of the gun going off, and saw her brother’s assailant stagger backward
s with a bullet hole through his gut. And then there was nothing but pandemonium as people scattered on the street as Jones finally went limp in her arms.

  Two more gunshots went off before Carlo leaped into the car, threw it into gear, and cut into traffic as more shots went off. Gia looked to her left and saw that the cop she’d seen earlier was now shooting at them. She heard bullets rip into their SUV as Carlo ducked his head low. He nearly collided with another car when suddenly his side window blew apart, leaving glass flying into the interior of the Murano and cutting her brother’s face and neck.

  “Carlo!” she shouted out in fear.

  But Carlo didn’t answer. Instead, he pressed hard on the gas and jerked the car forward while the cop continued to shoot at them as they sped away—and got away.

  At least for now.

  “Are you OK?” she said to him as they cut right onto Ninth Avenue.

  “I’m bleeding from the glass, but I wasn’t hit,” he said as he pulled pieces of glass out of his face and neck. “We’re fucked, Gia. We’re officially a target. Look at my fucking window. There’s no covering that up. And there’s no covering up the blood on my face. The cops will spot us in a second.”

  He was right.

  “Is she down?” he asked.

  She looked over at Jones, who was slumped over on the seat next to her, her ponytail hanging in her face. “She’s down.”

  “What do you want me to do? Tell me now, because we don’t have much time!”

  Fuck! she thought as her mind raced.

  Nine million people live in this city. Millions more commute here...

  She considered that for a second before she said, “Keep driving. The odds are on our side. But listen to me first,” she said. “We skirt around the city’s edges—that’s how we win. Drive down Ninth to Twenty-Ninth Street. From there, cut over to Eleventh and make a left onto West Twenty-Fourth Street. What I need you to do is to keep zigzagging through the city in ways that are unpredictable. Can you do that?”

  “I was born here. Of course I can do that.” He wiped his face and neck and came away with a blood-smeared hand. “Is there anything in here to help me stop the bleeding?”

  “I’ve got another cloth.” She reached down at her feet, found it on the floor of the SUV, and handed it to him. As he wiped himself clean and then applied pressure to the wounds at his neck and face, she learned toward him.

  “Take the streets we know are less populated, especially by the cops. I know that we’re far from the warehouse, but if we stick to the outbound streets and avenues, we might just make it there, Carlo. God willing.”

  Forty minutes later, God answered.

  When they arrived at the warehouse, Gia immediately grabbed the remote in the cupholder, pressed a button and opened the warehouse’s door. When they drove inside, it was so dark that the SUV’s lights switched on—and revealed Stephen Rowe waiting expectantly inside for them.

  His face was tense, gaunt. For some reason, his eyes looked wild with unrest. With a flourish, he swung out the switchblade at his side and released the blade just as the warehouse’s garage door rattled shut behind them and one of the iridescent lights flickered above Rowe and brightened, casting him into a surreal, bluish hue.

  In front of him was the metal chair Gia had found a few days earlier.

  “Put the bitch here,” he said to them. “She dies now.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  “WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR face and neck?” Rowe said the moment Carlo stepped out of the car.

  The bleeding had stopped, but Carlo’s face, neck, and his Spandex shirt were nevertheless stained with blood. “A cop happened to it.”

  “A cop?”

  “Don’t worry—nobody followed us here. We’re certain of that.”

  “How can you be certain?”

  “Do you really think that Gia or I would corner ourselves in this building if we didn’t know better? We’re not going to prison for you, Stephen. And we’d never do anything to put you in that position either. Trust me—we got away.”

  “After they shot the hell out of your car,” Rowe said as he stepped over to look at it.

  “Getting Jones wasn’t easy,” Carlo said. “Gia and I knew that it wouldn’t be, but neither of us expected a cop to be around us when we took her. Shit happens. But she’s with us now, and she’s ready for you. That’s what matters.”

  “Carlo, give me a hand,” Gia called from the backseat. “She’s still unconscious. She’s already dead weight. I can’t lift her on my own.”

  “Then let me do it,” Carlo said.

  Gia slipped out of the car and looked in horror at her brother’s slashed face and neck, as Carlo bent inside, took Jones by her feet, and then pulled her toward him. Jones was so out of it, she looked like a rag doll to Gia. But with a yank and a heave, Carlo nevertheless tossed her over his broad shoulder, walked around the SUV, and sat her down in the chair Rowe had waiting for her.

  “Get the cuffs, Gia,” he said with his hand pressing against Jones’ chest so that her back touched the back of the chair. “And the rope. She’s going to fall over otherwise.”

  Gia retrieved the cuffs from the car and tossed them over to her brother, who snagged them in the air with his right hand, and then cuffed Jones’ wrists behind her back and locked them to the chair itself. The rope was to the left of the chair. Gia handed it to him, and he bound her feet around the chair’s legs. When he was finished, Janice Jones sagged forward. Drool spooled from her mouth and into her lap while Rowe licked his lips, took a step toward her, and watched her.

  “How long will she be out?” he asked. “I have a plane to catch. I need to get out of here soon. You know that.”

  “I’m actually surprised she’s still out,” Carlo said.

  “I’m not,” Gia said as she walked over to them. “I used a shitload of that crap on her. I had no choice.”

  “Then how do we wake her, Gia?” Rowe said. “Because before I open her throat, I have a few things to say to her. And I want her to know that it was me who killed her—not either of you.”

  “Do you want her to communicate with you? Because if you do, she’s only going to start screaming, Stephen. And that will put all of us at risk.”

  “I plan on being the one doing the talking, Gia.”

  “Then let me get the duct tape.”

  When she returned from the SUV with it, she bit off a piece, slapped it across Janice Jones’ mouth, and then went for the hose.

  “Step back,” she said to Rowe.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Waking her up.”

  She turned on the hose and poured the cold water over Jones’ head until something in her mind broke. She suddenly came back into herself, and then reared back in the chair with wide, terrified eyes as a haunted moan sifted through the tape.

  Gia would have felt something for Janice right then if she hadn’t known just how far Jones had gone to betray Rowe. On the Internet, she’d seen the video of Jones burying him in that press conference. And as much as she couldn’t stand Rowe, what she hated even more was the kind of betrayal Janice had handed him.

  You might not know where you are now, Janice, Gia thought. But even I have to agree that you have this coming to you after what you did to him...

  She turned off the water, replaced the hose, and joined Carlo on Jones’ left. Dazed and confused, Jones looked from Gia to Carlo and finally over to Rowe. When she saw him, Gia knew that she didn’t recognize him at first—with his bald head and blond goatee, he looked completely different from the man she’d once loved—and then successfully destroyed. But after a moment, it occurred to her exactly who he was. And when the truth of that struck her, she started to shake her head violently at him even before he lifted the switchblade and pointed it at her heart.

  “Hello, Janice,” he said. “Have you missed me?”

  She didn’t move—not one muscle. Instead, her gaze remained fixed on the knife, the blade of which was gli
nting in the iridescent lights humming and crackling above it.

  “And here you thought you’d won,” he said as he walked over to her and used the tip of the knife to flick her ponytail off her shoulder. “Here you thought that you’d had the last word.” When he said that, he immediately leaned down and got into her face. “Guess that’s not going to happen, sweet pea, is it? No, you already know that it isn’t, don’t you?”

  Like a cat out for a kill, he moved deftly in front of her, stopping once to press the back of his hand against her wet face before moving out of her line of sight and standing directly behind her.

  And it was at that point that Jones started to shake in fear.

  “You know what’s coming, don’t you, Janice?” he said.

  Her only answer was a muffled sob.

  “But before we go there, we’re going to run down why you’re here now. Would you like that? No? Well, I would. So,” he said with his lips pressed against her right ear. “Let’s do it. Let’s take that unwanted walk down memory lane...”

  At that moment, she screamed.

  Tried to scream.

  With the duct tape over her mouth, all that came out of her was a weirdly throttled noise that no one would hear beyond these walls. And when Jones heard it herself—when she registered how weak it was and how powerless she was over this situation—she lowered her head and started to cry.

  “I gave you everything, Janice,” Rowe said. “A swanky apartment overlooking the Hudson that you owned outright, a motherlode of expensive jewels, a Mercedes, all the clothes you wanted, and even elaborate vacations whenever poor dead Meredith was away.”

  He lowered his voice. “For the two years that we were together, I changed your life for the better. You became the love of my fucking life, for God’s sake! And yet you had to keep pressing me, didn’t you? You had to keep demanding that I leave Meredith for you. You increasingly made things uncomfortable between us. You kept my feet to the flames. And in the process, when you didn’t get what you wanted, you ruined everything—for me and for you. Didn’t you?”

  He paused in front of her as she looked up at him in terror, and then he placed the tip of his knife to one of her breasts. “I even gave you these,” he said as he pressed the knife against her other breast. “Far better than the ones you had when I first met you, aren’t they? What you had before were so cheap, it was as if a butcher had operated on you. But as we fell for each other—or, shall I say, as I fell for you and you used me—I gave you what you wanted most. A fresh pair of tits. Some you could be proud of. Some that weren’t lopsided like the ones you had before you met me—and were introduced to my kindness.”