Jackie slowly woke to darkness surrounding her. There was an intense pain circulating through her entire body. She could feel the cool, damp grass beneath her where she lay on her back staring up at the Colorado night sky. For a moment, she was disoriented and the world seemed to be spinning. She groaned as she managed to pull herself into a sitting position not far from Zack’s headstone. She stared at his name embossed on the gray marble. Her head was still spinning from the alcohol. She then looked at the nearby tree, stared at it a moment, and groaned. She vaguely remembered climbing the tree, which would explain why she didn’t remember falling from it.
“You idiot,” she muttered then held her head to keep the world from spinning.
She collapsed near Zack’s headstone and again looked at it. Her dream about the island flashback was still fresh and strong in her mind. She uncertainly pulled her sweatshirt sleeve from her wrist revealing the ruby and diamond tennis bracelet she’d found that afternoon among the debris. It seemed odd that its presence in the surf suddenly bothered her. Her drunken mind seemed to be working in overtime. She’d seen the bracelet before she found it in the surf. She tried to think where she’d seen it. Bogart flashed in her mind. It came back to her all at once. Bogart admired the bracelet while they were in the ship’s casino on their last assignment. The wife of a notorious mob boss was wearing it! How did the bracelet get on a beach so far from the resort? Had it been in the helicopter prior to the crash? Did Bogart have it on him when he pulled her from the water? Had he stolen it? Her head started to hurt from thinking too much.
She finally gave in to the world spinning around her. It was actually quite pleasant, like a large carousel. While enjoying her spinning world, she allowed her thoughts to stray to her missing husband. Jackie had attempted to keep Holden from her mind. She wanted to believe he was safely tucked away with Othello. She didn’t want anything to disrupt that fantasy. Holden couldn’t be dead because she couldn’t handle losing him too. Was Holden’s ambush merely another coincidence? What about the timing of the attack on Ross? Oddly, they both seemed to coincide with the attacks on the rest of the team while on Giovanni’s island. Was it a coincidence or a well-coordinated attack? Was it possible what happened to them on the island spread out to Ross and Holden?
Chapter Seven
It was a little after three o’clock in the morning when Jackie stumbled through the lodge lobby. Everything was quiet, signaling that all the drunks had gone to bed. She knew to be careful not to trip over anyone passed out on the floor. That actually only happened once when she was much younger involving Kirk, who was barely dressed at the time. He was a big guy and could pound them down with the best of them. Unfortunately, when the alcohol had finally hit him, he didn’t make it to his room and just sort of made himself at home wherever he crashed. She hated to admit Kirk was the first naked man she’d seen, because she was a little young to see such things.
When Jackie was halfway to the stairs, she heard the sound of glasses clinking. She looked across the lobby toward the massive front desk and saw Sal placing the dirty glasses on a tray. She was surprised to see anyone still up let alone cleaning the mess. He saw her and smiled with a little added warmth on his cherub face, which was now slightly red from drinking too much.
“Everyone went to bed,” he casually informed her, not sounding the least bit drunk.
“Shouldn’t you be there too?” she asked as she approached him while slightly unsteady on her feet.
“Alcohol and I have a strange relationship,” he replied cheerfully. “It keeps me awake. I won’t crash until sunup. You’ve been gone a while. Monroe was looking for you. Unfortunately, he passed out in the lounge.”
“I guess I wandered off,” Jackie announced with a sigh and attempted to sit on the arm of the sofa.
She slipped and collapsed onto the sofa. She turned on her side, propping herself up on her elbow, and made it look intentional. Sal was aware of her condition but didn’t comment. He just smiled and continued collecting glasses.
“I keep thinking about what happened last Saturday,” she remarked with a frown. “I was right there. I should have been able to save him.”
“You know you couldn’t have,” Sal replied without hesitation. “I know it’s of no comfort, but he died on his own terms. He went out the way he wanted to go.”
“Do you honestly believe that?”
“He died a hero, Jackie,” Sal informed her while leaning against the front desk. “He died saving you.” He managed a tiny smile. “Pretty much a blaze of glory. That’s the way he’d want to go.”
She considered his comment then nodded in agreement. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” she replied. “I just wish he hadn’t followed in my father’s footsteps.”
“Oh, how’s that?”
“My father died saving my life too.”
Sal stared at her a moment and tensed slightly. “I didn’t know that. I’m sorry.”
She drifted off a moment while deep in thought and stared at nothing in particular. “I always knew Zack would die because of me.”
“Don’t say that,” Sal scolded, catching her attention. “It wasn’t your fault. I’d give my life for my daughter. It’s what you do when you love someone.”
Jackie rested her head on her arm and stared at Sal from her horizontal position. “I know you’re right, but I can’t convince myself to feel any better.” She eyed him without lifting her head. “I have this nagging feeling there’s a large piece of the puzzle still missing. That entire assignment doesn’t sit well. Everything that happened on the island and everything that’s happened since we’ve been back. I wish I understood what I’m feeling.”
Sal approached and sat on the arm of the plush chair across from her. He casually leaned against the back. “I understand what you mean,” he replied and sank into his own thoughts while flexing his sore, injured arm then looked back at her. “It seemed as if everyone had their own agenda, and we were all just caught in the middle.”
“That’s an understatement,” she muttered.
He adjusted his thin wire glasses and leaned forward with a serious look. “I’m still shocked that Mac showed up when she did,” he announced and shook his head. “If she weren’t such a devil, I’d swear she was an angel fallen straight from heaven. That’s been bugging me since we left the island.”
Jackie struggled to prop herself back on her elbow and stared at him with surprise and disbelief. “Mac?” she practically cried out. “You mean that Mac. Who used to work for you then vanished without a trace?”
“Yes, that Mac,” Sal replied then eyed her with some surprise. “That’s right. You had already gone off on your walk when we were discussing that.” He shook his head still in disbelief. “She just showed up out of the blue, saved my life, and declared ‘we’re even’.” He snorted a soft laugh and grinned while shaking his head. “I don’t even know what that was supposed to mean. Even for what?”
Jackie returned her head to the sofa although remaining deep in thought. “That is strange.” She gave him a puzzled look. “You didn’t happen to run into a very attractive female Russian spy, did you?”
He stared at her with a puzzled look, not understanding the question. “Excuse me?”
She laughed softly. “Nothing.”
Sal stood with a deep sigh and returned to the front desk to claim his tray of dirty glasses. “I think I’ll wash these glasses and see about getting some sleep,” he announced, now slightly weary. “Gil offered to fly me from the private airfield in Colorado Springs to Chicago tomorrow after you drop us off in the helicopter.” He laughed and shook his head. “I hope he can fly hungover.” He then considered the comment and appeared curious. “I hope you can fly hungover. Anyway, I guess he’s taking Monroe home to his beach house off the coast of Florida after he drops me off.” He managed a soft laugh and grinned. “He’s heading back to Virginia. Don’t quote me, but I think he’s hooking up with his ex-wife again.” He then gave the comment
some thought. “I should offer them my beach house in Maui for a few weeks. Love always deserves another chance to bloom.” Sal turned to face Jackie while holding his tray of glasses. “Don’t you think--?”
Jackie was sound asleep on the sofa. Sal smiled, set his tray down on the desk, and approached the sofa. He gently placed one of the throw pillows under her head then covered her with a quilted blanket.
“Goodnight, Jackie.” He was about to turn when he noticed the familiar ruby and diamond tennis bracelet Jackie wore. Sal sank into thought while staring at it. “Mac,” he whispered then eyed the sleeping woman. “How did you get the bracelet Mac was wearing?”
Chapter Eight
Late afternoon. Jackie entered her house just outside Colorado Springs with her flight bag in her hand. After she had dropped off Liam and Selena at Ross’s farm, she flew Gil, Monroe, and Sal to the nearby private airfield where Gil had his plane. He would then fly them to their respective airports despite the amount of time he’d have to spend in the air. He didn’t seem to mind, and the guys were glad to avoid flying commercial. Jackie shut the door behind her and looked around the empty house. It was so quiet; she could hear the gently swaying pendulum of the grandfather clock in the hallway. Normally, she loved the sound of the grandfather clock, but in the silent, empty house, it sounded like a freight train.
She dropped her flight bag on the foyer floor and leaned against the front door, staring at nothing in particular. She didn’t know how long she remained against the door before straightening. Her hangover was finally fading and hunger was taking its place, but she didn’t feel like eating. The thought made her nauseous. She removed her leather flying jacket and hung it in the foyer closet next to Holden’s favorite casual jacket. She gently touched his jacket sleeve and pulled away when she felt tears welling in her eyes. She collected her emotions and finally headed into the kitchen.
An hour later, Jacket sat at the island counter and stared at the plate of heated leftovers she’d brought with her from last night’s memorial service. Her thoughts strayed to Zack and images of his tombstone beneath the tree. She held her head and sniffed while staring at the plate of grilled chicken. When she closed her eyes, she saw her last image of Zack as he kicked her from the helicopter just before it went over the cliff. Tears streaked her face. She drew a deep breath and straightened, collecting herself and her emotions. She sat there a second then violently cast the plate from the island counter and didn’t even flinch as it shattered against the kitchen cupboard.
Sometime later, Jackie stood within the master bathroom shower beneath a stream of hot water. She didn’t move as the water ran down her body. She stared off, indulging in a memory of her last shower encounter with Holden. Despite being late for work and jumping in the shower with her to save time, he couldn’t control himself when she offered to wash his chest and regions beyond. She could still feel his hands caressing her flesh while pressing against her body from behind. She drew a deep breath and enjoyed the phantom sensation. Her eyes suddenly opened to reveal hostility and rage. She punched the glass shower door, cracking it. A trickle of blood-tinged water ran down the glass. Jackie flexed her hand then shook it, instantly regretting her actions.
An hour later, Jackie paced the living room while making tight fists then releasing them. Resting on the sofa were framed pictures of Ross, Zack, and Holden with each positioned on a separate cushion. She’d glance at the pictures every so often without interrupting her pacing. Throw pillows were scattered on the floor. Every so often, Jackie would approach one and kick it across the room. Her hostility would eventually fade, and she’d start crying again. It was a vicious cycle that she couldn’t seem to control. At least the annoying sound of the grandfather clock wasn’t bothering her anymore. She could hear the muffled sound of her cell phone ringing from somewhere within the house and realized she’d left it in her flying jacket.
Jackie ran from the living room and into the hallway toward the foyer. Several wooden rungs on the stairs were broken with the jagged posts dangling free. The glass on the grandfather clock was shattered and scattered along the floor surrounding the carelessly discarded pendulum. Jackie ran to the foyer closet, threw the door open, and grabbed her cell phone from her inner jacket pocket. She was quick to answer it without first checking the caller ID. Her cell phone had an unlisted number, so there were only a select number of people who’d possibly be calling her.
“Hello?” she practically gasped into the phone, feeling her heart racing with anticipation.
“Hello,” came the computerized woman’s voice. “This is an important message from your cable company--”
Jackie struck the disconnect button with added vigor and was about to throw her cell phone when she reconsidered the action. She screamed in anger and karate kicked the closet door several times, cracking the heavy wood. Jackie panted with anger and rage while holding her head. She took several deep breaths and attempted to control her emotions. Once she was relatively calm, she stuffed her cell phone into her pants pocket and stormed through the hallway toward the kitchen. A moment later, she appeared from the kitchen carrying a bottle of wine and headed up the stairs. Maybe after a bottle of wine, she’d feel like sleeping. If not, there were always a few more rungs on the stairs she could kick out.
Chapter Nine
Sal Romano’s country mansion just outside the Chicago city limits was nestled on a large parcel of land beyond tall, stone walls. The professionally landscaped estate didn’t have a hedge out of place. Weeping willow trees and faux split rail fencing lined the long driveway. The driveway split off to circle a large fountain outside the front door, while the remaining driveway branched off to the left. The driveway led to the kitchen, staff wing, and eventually to the massive, detached, eight-car garage. It was a little after one o’clock in the morning Chicago time yet the inner and outer lights remained on brightening a large portion of the massive estate. Sal’s luxury sedan pulled up to the front of the mansion and parked. Given the late hour of his return, Sal didn’t bother parking his expensive car in the garage.
It had been a long travel day despite Jackie’s helicopter service and Gil’s private plane ride. They got a late start, being everyone was moderately hungover from a night of drinking expensive scotch. If Sal hadn’t bothered to stop at his office building to check on business details from the days he’d missed, he would have been home nearly four hours earlier. Considering he didn’t have anyone to return home to, there seemed little point rushing home. There wouldn’t be any staff to greet Sal as he unlocked the front door and entered the mansion.
The mansion once had more than two dozen employees with nearly half living in the staff wing. After a monstrous betrayal by several employees, Sal downsized his live-in staff to three and had several temp workers come in a few times a week to clean and tend to the yard. The only staff remaining was his devoted, longtime maid, Rosa, and two security guards. Once inside, Sal immediately entered the alarm code into the panel, disabling the system before locking and bolting the door for the night. He reset the alarm and headed for the broad staircase.
After a quick shower and a fresh dressing to the wound on his arm, Sal changed into a pair of black, silk pajamas with his initials embossed in red on the left breast pocket. He crawled under the satin covers of his massive, king-sized bed. He was so tired; he didn’t even bother removing all the decorative pillows from the bed. Some he shoved to the floor while others were allowed to remain where they were. It didn’t matter. By morning, they would all be scattered on the floor. Despite his aching arm. He fell asleep the moment his head hit the pillow. What should have been a deep, heavy sleep was riddled with confusing dreams of his hellish weekend on Giovanni’s private island. Within his dreams, he was transported back to last Saturday afternoon.
Sal lay on the ground clutching the bleeding bullet wound to his arm as he stared up at the man holding the gun on him. Sal showed no fear despite his obvious pain.
“They’ll find y
ou,” Sal informed the man and offered an unsettling smile despite his situation. “And when they do, they’ll kill you.”
“We’ll deal with them when and if that time comes,” the man replied and tightened his finger on the trigger while aiming the gun at Sal’s head.
Sal closed his eyes and held his head up proudly, waiting for the sound of the shot and the sting of the bullet. The guard suddenly groaned. Sal opened his eyes to see an attractive, dark haired woman in her mid-thirties, kick the guard several times before tossing him to the ground and disarming him. Macbeth aimed the pistol at the guard and, without hesitation, shot him in the head. The elegant ruby and diamond tennis bracelet around her wrist added a touch of warmth to her otherwise callus kill shot. She looked back at Sal and tossed the gun before him.
“We’re even,” Mac announced then hurried for the dock.
He stared after his former employee, who had gone missing some time ago, with a look of surprise. “Mac?” he gasped in disbelief.
Sal woke abruptly from his dream and stared wide-eyed at the ceiling as if suddenly completely awake. He rubbed his eyes a moment then sank into thought. His eyes narrowed while he shook his head.
“Mac,” he muttered softly still in disbelief. Another thought then occurred to him. “The bracelet--?”
He remained in bed only a few minutes longer before climbing out the opposite side, knocking the rest of the pillows to the floor. Without turning on the bedside light, he opened the top drawer and removed an electronic notepad. By the glow of the notepad, he was able to see his reading glasses within the drawer. He pushed the semiautomatic handgun aside and removed his reading glasses. He swiftly slipped into the glasses and typed onto the notepad’s attached, soft keyboard. He located the email address for Giovanni listed under the name ‘G’ and typed a message to his good friend, who was known to most as a notorious mob boss. In the email, he asked his friend to provide information on a woman who may have been employed at his island resort. He finished the email with an attached photo of him standing with the woman from his dream, Mac, and another man, who had died tragically in the line of duty. He hit send then tossed the notepad onto the bed along with his reading glasses.
Outside the Wire Page 4
