How did they even know we’d be there?
There’s a rat in Vito’s crew. With morale so low, I could see disgruntled members turning on Vito. Handing the MC information for scraps.
They used me to grease the MC, and they shot at my wife. Ritter and Carter knew full well I’d be there and didn’t give a shit. This spiraled out of control. First, I’m an undercover cop. Now I’m a pawn for the MC. My intel helped the MC take out members—but Johnny’s taking over. It was the last thing they wanted. With the territory under his command, they’d never be able to seize it back.
What better way to strike at the mob than a baby shower where everyone would be in attendance?
Saul sucks his lemonade noisily. “Hey, you okay, man? You look like you’re having an aneurysm.”
I stare at him as the world shrinks and pull out my wallet. I take half the cash—it’s only a few hundred dollars, and I won’t need it anymore. Saul blinks as I throw the bundle on the table, ignoring his questions as I walk into the crowd of Sunday shoppers.
I can’t fix this.
This is too big to handle myself.
I should tell Eva what I’m about to do so she’ll beg me to stop.
This is stupid—beyond insane. If they don’t pull out a gun and kill me where I stand, they’ll open me up. Torture me until I no longer resemble a man and bag me up. Everything inside me screams to grab Eva and leave, but I know what’ll happen if I run away with her.
In a month—maybe less—the money will disappear. My bank accounts are frozen. The fake IDs won’t go anywhere. Tracking us would be easy. They’ll find and kill me. Ritter and his goons might do it first. Every scenario I can dream of ends up with me dead unless I’m more valuable to the mob alive.
It’s a big gamble that I’ll probably lose.
The road to Rick’s Auto Repair is too short, and there’s not enough time to think of what to say. A large white sign stands at the street corner with peeling black paint: RICK’S AUTO REPAIR. I pull in the driveway and recognize the line of cars parked in the lot. The windows roll up, and I bake in the heat.
Vito bought the shop in the ’80s. It used to be a thriving place, but now it’s a greasy, rundown shack he uses to launder money. Captain Ritter pointed it out when we trained for my undercover role. When I finally got in the Romanos, which was a fucking ordeal, Rick gave me half off oil changes. Decent guy.
Rick relaxes outside the shop, the garage door closed for once. He sits on a concrete bench. Smoke makes calligraphy in the air as he takes a drag from his cigarette. His salt-and-pepper beard hides a very weak chin. He nods at me when he recognizes my car, gesturing his thumb inside.
They’re in there. All of them. The bosses of both families and their crew. My heart sinks as I recognize Johnny’s Benz.
Fuck me. My chances of surviving this just dropped dramatically. I’m prepared for Vito’s fury, the blows that’ll rain on my body, but Johnny’s a different beast. He’s impulsive enough to shoot me in the chest the moment I utter my confession: I’m a cop.
Don’t do it. Turn back.
I climb out of the car and shut the door. Every step might as well be my last, and my mind can’t stop running with everything I should’ve done. I should’ve called my parents. Said goodbye to Eva. Told her I love her.
Rick stands up and pounds on the wall, and a voice inside bellows for me to come in. He opens it for me, and I slide in.
You promised her you’d be back.
She’ll curse my name for years. She won’t be able to talk about me without a dagger of pain. My baby will never know me, but at least they’ll be safe. The agony twists in my heart, sharper than any blade, so potent. I thrust it aside because there’s no room for despair when I’m dealing with them.
There’s still a chance I might make it out of this.
I walk into the office. Metal rolls on my tongue as I bypass the desk to slip into the garage. It’s big enough to hold four cars and packed with Cravottas and Romanos, their hostile faces amorphous. I used to fucking hate them. Then I killed two men. One was impulse and rage; the other was cold necessity.
I’m not the same person I was. The world isn’t painted in black and white strokes. It’s a haze of gray, and I can’t tell who’s right and wrong. They have more honor than the cops I worked for, but that’s not saying much.
A man with a lean build paces the empty room with the air of a lion trapped in a cage. His sleeves roll up his muscled, olive-skinned arms. He stops at my footsteps. Flicks his lit cigarette. “Where the fuck have you been?”
Several men close in like starved hounds scenting blood. They sense the beatdown that’s about to happen.
No way I’ll make it out of here alive with both families packed in here. “I need to talk to you and Vito alone.”
He eyes me with suspicion. “Get out.” He nods to the enforcers shadowing him like small boulders, and they squeeze out of the doorway along with the rest of the crews.
A cough alerts me to Vito’s presence, who sits in a plastic chair, straight backed. Even though I loathe the guy, I can’t help but admire his poise. The man’s dying of cancer, but a half-dozen bikers shooting up his daughter’s baby shower seems to have reinvigorated his energy.
The men slip past me and pack in the office, several of them spilling outside. When the room empties, Johnny repeats his question. “Where were you?”
“Chasing a biker. Henri didn’t tell you?”
“That was an hour ago,” Johnny says in a high, cold voice. “You lie one more time, and I’ll put a cigarette out in your fucking eye.”
Vito gives him a look. “That’s my son-in-law.”
How am I going to do this? “I was meeting with my PI.”
They glance at each other, confused. “Private Investigator? For what?”
My heart slams against my chest. “It’s a long story, but I had him tail two cops. Detective Carter and Captain Ritter. They’re working with the Legion MC.”
I pull out the images Saul took and spread them on the workbench. “You can research them now and find their profiles.”
Johnny impatiently sifts through them as Vito slips his phone from his pocket and searches for the names. “Jesus, he’s right,” Vito says, eyes widening. “They’re cops. Look.”
He shows Johnny, who compares them to the photographs. His suspicion darkens as he confirms their identities. “How do you know all this?”
“I used to work for them.”
The cogs move in Johnny’s head, fury blazing on his face when the pieces snap into place. “Tabarnak.” He wheels to a bewildered Vito. “Did you know this?”
“Know what? What is he—”
“He’s a cop!” Johnny says. “He’s an undercover fucking cop.”
The word seems to run through Vito like a sword. He loses his composure. Doubles over. “No,” he says softly. “He can’t.”
“When I met you six months ago, I was a police officer. Then I fell in love with your daughter, and everything changed.”
“Motherfucker!” Vito springs to his feet, grabbing my shirt with a surprising amount of strength. His eyes bleed pain. “You piece of shit. You lied to me!”
I could easily toss him, but I let his fist smash into my jaw. Fuck, it hurts. I duck the next one. “Put your anger aside and listen.”
“Fuck you! You took advantage of my daughter!” He swings at me, arms whistling through the air. Johnny watches with mingled rage and annoyance.
“You need to hear me out.” I seize his hand and force it to his side. “Stop fighting me; you’ll pass out.”
Vito heaves deep breaths as I guide him toward the chair.
The sound of a hammer echoes in the garage. I stare down the muzzle of a gun. Johnny’s. He’s not in any mood to negotiate. “Why the fuck shouldn’t I kill you?”
“I’m the only guy who knows what’s happening and I can help you both.”
“You fucked us—”
True. “I don’t expect
to leave this place alive.”
“You guessed right,” Johnny says, all grit.
“The cops I mentioned,” I say, louder than ever. “They’re dirty. They’re behind this. Those men might’ve not been the ones that shot at your wife, but they fed the information to the MC because someone told them about the shower.”
“Yeah,” Vito says. “You.”
“No. It wasn’t me,” I hiss through my teeth. “I wouldn’t hurt Eva.”
“Bullshit,” he says.
“You were right when you said I was a decent man—that’s because I am. I swear to God, I love her and would never do anything to risk her life. I told you to clear the room because I know there’s a rat in your crew.”
Johnny lowers the gun slightly.
Just keep talking. “All I need to do is meet with them one more time, and I can find out who it is.”
“And in exchange, I guess you want to live?” Vito shakes his head, smiling. “I will carve you up like a fucking ham.”
This is going well. “You can do that, or you could listen to what I have to say.”
“I’ve heard enough.” Johnny raises his gun. “Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”
There’s a bang as the door swings open. Henri bursts through, eyes full of menace. Another man follows, looking just as forbidding as Henri. They must have overheard.
I grab a wrench hanging on the workbench and swing as they tackle me. Johnny’s shout for them to stop is swallowed by the rage of four men. I won’t let them take me standing—I fucking won’t.
A man gags as I thrust the wrench into his stomach.
Something crashes into my skull. My knees give without a whimper, and the tool drops to the concrete. Fists rain on my back, my head. My vision is crossed. The wrench is a foot away. I stretch my hand. A boot crushes it.
The world drifts into muffled shouts and thumps.
And then blackness.
Chapter Seventeen
Eva
Five hours and no word from Bastien. My phone stays dark, and he won’t answer my calls. I don’t know if he’s injured or dead. I want to tear through the streets looking for him, but it’s not safe. I’m supposed to sit here, shut up, and wait.
I’m losing my mind.
I’ve had five hours to sort through my tangled feelings. There was so much panic at Madison’s house that Bastien’s last words didn’t sink in until now.
He loves me.
No one’s ever said that to me and meant it. Bastien always puts me first. When my dad screamed for him to pursue the bikers, he ignored the order and ran straight toward me. The marriage might’ve been a sham, but he saved me from the life I never wanted. I’m relieved he’s a cop, and I feel guilty because of it. I don’t think I could’ve ever had feelings for him if he made his living with violence.
My throat chokes at the thought of something happening to him. Joy will cease to exist. I’ll fade away. Nothing will ever be the same and I’ll never forgive myself for not saying it back.
I love you, too.
Dani sucks in a breath as she watches the TV screen mounted on the wall. A bandage wraps around her skinny arm, her cherub face frozen in an expression of shock. She was only grazed by a bullet, but Louis had to sweet talk her into refusing to cooperate with the police. Even though her cut was disinfected and stitched hours ago, Louis refused to let us leave. He sits in the chair next to Dani’s, leaning over to murmur something. She gives him a weak smile.
Too bad he can’t whisper nice things in Madison’s ear. Loud sobs wrack through the hospital as she cries. The lobby doesn’t offer much privacy, and well-meaning people approach her with kind words she ignores. There’s nothing to say that’ll make it better. Her house was shot up by a group of thugs. No one died, but her son was in the home. It was a very near miss.
I can’t squeeze air through my lungs. I hold it tight in my chest until it burns, and it doesn’t help that the TV provides a nonstop stream of terrifying updates. A man was found shot to death three miles from the drive-by. Several mob-owned businesses were torched. News vans parked outside Madison’s home pan over the destruction. Police and fire departments are stretched thin responding to all the incidents.
My mouth goes dry as I take it in.
This was planned. God knows how long they’ve been preparing for an attack on both families. It’s revenge, the organized crime expert says, for the massacre of Les Diables several years prior. My eyes burn with fury. What does any of that have to do with me? Don’t they understand we want nothing to do with this shit?
I grab my phone and swipe it open. It’s blank. I dial his number and his voice booms through the speaker. A flood of joy crashes over me until I realize it’s his fucking voicemail. It went straight to the box. Either his cell is out of juice, or someone turned it off.
My heart stops.
What if he can’t answer?
He could be disabled, screaming in pain on a stretcher, or dead. The air leaves my chest as I curl my fists. My eyes sting with the image of him facedown on a table. A dark hole in the back of his head, just like Marc. Bastien said he loved me. A golf ball rises in my throat. I bite my fist as tears streak down my cheeks.
I can’t take this anymore.
He wouldn’t wait this long to call me. Something’s happened.
I stand up in front of Louis, arms crossed. “Where is he?”
“I have no idea,” he says in his low voice. “Honestly.”
“Don’t give me that crap. He took off after Henri. They were heading in the same direction. Louis, please. He could be hurt, and I can’t get ahold of him.”
Louis pinches the bridge of his nose. “He’s not—”
“Then why won’t he answer his phone?”
“He’s in a goddamn meeting, all right?” He shakes his head. “Don’t ask me where.”
A mob get-together while we’re stuck in the hospital? “Excuse me?”
He looks uncomfortable. “It’s need to know only.”
“His pregnant fucking wife needs to know!”
“Fuck,” he sighs, raking a hand through his hair. “I really shouldn’t, but it’s been a few hours.”
I grab the arms of his chair. “Tell me where he is, or I’ll scream.”
“It was at your father’s auto shop,” he bursts. “They’re probably all gone by now. Seb could be anywhere.”
There’s only one my dad ever brought our cars to. “I’ll need your keys.”
“Hell no. My orders were simple—stay at the hospital. If your father found out I let you drive around his territory while there’s a war, I’d never see the light of day.”
Beside him, Dani’s eyes go round as saucers. “What?”
“Then tell him I overpowered you!”
He laughs, the sound cutting into me.
Fuck it. I don’t need him. I’ll call an Uber.
“Nice meeting you, Dani.” I smile at the poor, confused girl. “Hope things get better.”
Then I turn my back on them and sprint toward the exit. Louis’ angry shout follows me. “Hey, wait!”
He sprints after me like a bat out of hell. I throw the doors behind me so they catch on his injured arm. He swears. It probably hurts like a bitch. Too bad.
I run the white halls. Why do they all look the damn same? Louis tears after me, and I utter a scream of frustration when he grabs my shirt.
“What the fuck?” he snarls.
“Let me go, or I’ll cause a scene.”
“I’m not doing this because I want to! Your dad has your best interests at heart, damn it. There’s a war out there, and we’re single targets.”
“I won’t leave him to die. Something is wrong.” I glance at the entrance of the hospital, where there’s a guard posted. “I’ll yell for help in five seconds.”
“Don’t do it.”
“Five.”
He yanks me down the hall. “Eva!”
“Four—”
I stumble fre
e as Louis releases me, furious. “You want a death wish—fine.”
“I’ll tell him I ran out on you when I said I was going to the bathroom. You have my word.”
He glowers at me. “That will not be good enough if you get yourself killed.”
A chill runs down my back like a cold finger thumbing my spine. I head outside, opening my phone to order a cab. Fear eats at my insides.
Please be there.
If he’s not—I don’t know what I’ll do. Dad’s ignoring my calls, but I assumed he’s probably in the thick of things. Short of driving around Montreal and checking the gutters for his body, I’m out of ideas.
The car rolls to the curb and I slide inside, avoiding small talk with the driver as he whisks us away. Nausea swirls in my stomach as the disturbing images on TV flash through my head.
I didn’t want this to happen. I told myself I wouldn’t get involved with my emotions. This is why I was supposed to distance myself, but he’s not one of them. He can give me a better life. He promised he would, and like an idiot, I believed him because of our baby. Bastien loves me, and I believe him. I can’t help the glow in my chest when my wedding ring catches the light.
The car pulls onto a darkened street. I recognize the blazing white sign as he stops.
“This is it? Looks closed.”
“Yes, thank you.” I open the door and flinch when I step onto the empty parking lot.
No one’s here.
The cab drives away and terror suffocates my lungs. “Sébastien!” I march toward the office, slamming my fist into the glass. “Open up!”
My heart beats a violent tattoo against my chest, waiting for a shadow to move on the wall, a cough, something. Tears slide down my cheeks as I bash the glass. “If you’re there, let me in! Open the door, you bastards!”
There’s no one inside. I don’t know what to do. I’ll scour every street to find him because I can’t stand the thought of never listening to him laugh again. If he’s gone—if I have to raise this baby on my own—
God, I have to find him. I scream his name as I walk around the garage, and then I pull out my cell. I call him. Voicemail again. I phone Dad. Voicemail.
Tied Down Page 17
