In the Name of Glori (The Redemption Series: Book 3)

by Maeve Christopher

  I examined the shoe I’d used to try to break the limo’s window. It was definitely a worthy kick-ass shoe. It didn’t shatter the window, but it did put a tiny hole through it. Too bad that wasn’t enough. We were prisoners now. But it did look like that shoe would live on. I replaced it on my foot.

  Finally Tamara showed up and slapped Becky across the face. She intended that to make her stop crying, but it didn’t work. She started howling. But when the guy with the shaved head stuck a gun to her head, it worked. She settled right down.

  I was beginning to wonder again, just how it is I get myself into these things, when Tamara shoved my phone into my face. “I want you to call David Lambrecht. Now.”

  “Yeah, he’s not exactly in the phone book.” I tried to sound offhand. I didn’t want her to think she had me beat. She gave me a seriously threatening look, and I figured I’d better do it. Plus, if I had any chance of getting out of here, David would be an asset. I dialed the phone. “David—”

  Before I could say another word, Tamara twisted the phone from my hand. “David Lambrecht, this is Tamara Everett. If you are not at my gate in Beverly Hills within twenty-four hours, your friend, Glori Coulson, is dead. And it won’t be an easy death, I promise you. Come alone, and don’t bother bringing any weapons. If you bring anyone with you, Glori, oh, and also her shoe-friend, Becky, will be toast.”

  She hung up the phone and smiled at me. “‘I look forward to seeing you soon, Miss Everett.’ That smart-aleck asshole. I suppose I should have invited him to bring his wife. I’m sure she’d be interested to find out exactly what kind of monster she married.”

  I just shook my head. I wasn’t going there.

  Tamara dropped into a chair across from me. “You know, George Aldridge was one of my Dad’s best campaign supporters. They were even sort of friends. Just how did Debbie Aldridge end up with an asshole like Lambrecht?”

  “He saved her life.”

  ***

  Tamara wasn’t interested in Debbie and David’s love story. She sneered at me.

  “So how did you manage to meet up with me—so coincidentally—without any security—at that café?”

  Tamara chuckled. “Easy. I know more people in the shoe business than you do, Glori. I called a friend and had him arrange a meeting for Becky and you. I knew he could make it enticing enough to get you to come out here. Especially with all your travails with your love life lately. Then it was just a matter of keeping a close eye on Becky. You made it easy.” She gave me that superior sneering look she’d perfected.

  I decided to change the subject. “Yeah. What happened to all that eternal gratitude you said you had for getting rid of Colonel Johnson and getting all your money back?”

  I’d never seen Tamara so hostile. “That bastard murdered everyone in my life I cared about. The closest, most special people, murdered by that lowlife, David Lambrecht. Cupid! The asshole. I’ll stuff his heart full of bullet holes. But he’s going to suffer. First, he’s going to suffer.”

  I deliberately sorted through her tirade for the important stuff. Everyone she cared about. She knew he was called Cupid. Must have known he was an assassin. “You cared about Colonel Jerry Lee Johnson?”

  “I loved Colonel Johnson.”

  As amazed as I was to hear that, I noticed Tamara was turning back into Tamara again. I tried to encourage her. “You loved him?”

  “We exchanged the most amazing love letters, ever since I first wrote him one. I was fifteen, and that’s when I declared my love for him.”

  “Whoa. You never told me, hon.”

  “I couldn’t tell anyone. Certainly not my father. He never knew, at least not until JL introduced me to Albert Santoro. Dad hated that man, but JL and I could see he’d be a boon to our business.”

  “Albert Santoro—the big time drug dealer. You were friends with him?”

  “Business associates, Glori. He’s not the type of person you’d want to socialize with. But he knew how to get things done. But Dad wanted to get rid of him, and when he saw how JL and I teamed up against him, well that’s when Dad realized there was something going on between us.”

  Wow. I remembered David slamming Santoro into the police cruiser after he’d shot all his gang members through the head. That was the first time I saw the legendary Cupid in action. Just a few days before he married Debbie. I still couldn’t get rid of the memory of all those dead guys on the sidewalk.

  And Tamara and old Jerry Lee Johnson—a secret agent Colonel, no less—were doing business with the scum of the earth, making money off drugs and the misery they caused.

  I took a breath. “So you loved JL right up till the end, even after the thing about taking money from you?”

  Tamara chuckled. “We did love each other till the end. I was in love with the love letters. And with the power, I suppose.” She was thoughtful for a minute. “But it probably really ended when I had a fling with his subordinate—Agent Gilbert. He was yummy. Agent Gilbert.” A wicked little laugh came out of her. “He paid for that with his life. But before JL got rid of him, he told me—and I told Dad—all about Cupid. Too bad, I had no idea that was Agent Lambrecht—but now I know. And he’s going to pay. He’s going to pay for murdering the love of my life.”

  Tamara was winding up again, and that wasn’t good. I figured we’d have a chance if she was calm.

  “Yeah, JL was the love of your life.” I used the softest, most sympathetic voice I could.

  But Tamara spewed that evil laughter. She opened a drawer on the chest beside her chair, removed a framed photo, and set it on the chest. Looked like a handsome guy—a huge step up from old JL. She admired it for a minute and turned to me. “Z was the love of my life. JL didn’t approve.” She went back to staring at her lover.

  I wondered why everyone had to be named by just their initials. Then I wondered how David murdered the guy and why. But I have a bad habit of thinking out loud sometimes. “So JL must have been mad enough to order David to shoot him.”

  If looks could kill, I’d have keeled over right there.

  “Z was the greatest assassin the world has ever known. JL wanted David Lambrecht dead for murdering my father and upsetting me. He told Z he’d find Cupid in Carmel. Z always wanted Cupid dead, anyway. But knowing it was Cupid that murdered Dad, well that gave him added inspiration.” Tamara wiped some tears.

  “Doesn’t sound like that went so well for Z. I guess he was the second greatest assassin.” I regretted that the instant it came out of my mouth.

  Fortunately, Tamara was consumed with her own thoughts, pining over the photo of her dead assassin. She was quiet for what seemed like forever, but it was probably just a few minutes.

  Then she piped up with new enthusiasm. “I’m going to show Debbie how it feels. Only worse. And when I get hold of her pig of a husband, I’ll tear him limb from limb. Once I make sure he knows his family is dying an agonizing death—because of him.”

  No point in hearing the gory details—I decided to change the subject. Might as well go for the whole story before I die. Now I was sure Tamara knew everything about the disappearance and murder of our old friend Kendra Cole. “What about Kendra?”

  “She was collateral damage. She overheard some things she shouldn’t have, so JL said she had to go. I do miss Kendra.”

  My stomach did flip-flops.

  ***

  Early the following morning, Alain arrived at the base outside L.A. and settled into an empty conference room to review some real estate records. David, Eduardo and Jimmy would be in within the hour. He answered his phone.

  “Your father is dead.”

  “He’s not my father.”

  His mother ignored the comment and continued with the list of arrangements she had made for the funeral. In the monotony of her voice, he returned to the fear, loneliness, confusion, chaos and rage of his childhood. What kind of a man could treat a child like that? An alcoholic, ineffectual beast. He was not a man.

  And neither was th
e one who left his mother when she told him she was pregnant. She had to settle for the one that happened along and asked her to marry him. Then they both paid for it. At least until he was old enough to make it on the streets.

  Alain would not be attending his funeral. He clicked off the phone and stared across the table, through the open door, to the gray wall across the hallway.

  It occurred to him that Eduardo, the amateur psychologist, was right. Just like he was right about David. He had to smile to himself.

  He pushed Glori away because he was afraid. Afraid he was incapable of being a worthwhile husband and father. Why would he be any different than his biological father, or the man who wouldn’t even adopt him?

  He wanted Glori, and he wanted Christina, and all the happiness they could bring. Glori’s over-exuberance was a piss-poor excuse for abandoning her.

  He heard Eduardo and Jimmy bantering down the hall. Hopefully they wouldn’t be too late to help her.

  David dropped a small stack of photos on the table. “I don’t know how I could have been so obtuse. Glori sent some pictures of the opening, and when Cat brought them out, Debbie commented on these. Tamara Everett.”

  Eduardo dropped into a chair, rubbing his eyes. “Cat picked up on it immediately. Turned white as a ghost and ran. We found her on the bathroom floor, hysterical. Said there was blood everywhere. Said David shook her hand and there was blood everywhere.”

  “Shook her hand?” Alain wondered aloud.

  “George and Marion invited Tamara Everett to our wedding. I shook her hand.”

  Jimmy smirked grimly. “And it was all over the news when they found out Everett was dead. All they found washed up on the beach was his hand.”

  Alain couldn’t help half a laugh. “I suppose interpreting Cat’s visions is quite an art.”

  “Yeah, an ugly one these days. Cisco was beside himself tryin’ to quiet her down.” Eduardo got up and began to pace.

  David looked sick.

  “How’s Debbie?” Alain was almost afraid to ask.

  David shook his head. “She was upset by Cat’s reaction. The entire family was. But Cat had the presence of mind to get up and leave. Debbie doesn’t know what the problem was. I told her Cat had a stomach bug. I can’t risk telling her the truth right now. She always thought Tamara was a friend.”

  “It’s a damn good thing she came up with the license plate number on the limo. I’d still be searching for Glori,” Alain said.

  “It was strange. At the time I was grateful her attention was diverted from Cat. But then she started on that limo painting, and I almost lost it.”

  Alain checked his watch. “There’s no more time to waste. Let’s get this bitch.”

  He briefed them on the information he’d gathered regarding Tamara Everett and the small army of men guarding her property. They reviewed real estate records, discussed the layout of the mansion, and planned their attack.

  Shortly after dark, David approached the gate alone, his hands in the air. Two guards held their weapons on him while the third searched him and relieved him of two guns and a knife.

  ***

  By the next night, Becky was practically comatose with fear, and I was a mess. Tamara seemed unconcerned that half the men were groping me and making suggestive remarks, even tearing at my clothes. I slapped and kicked and swore, but that only encouraged them.

  They’d get just so far, and then Tamara would yell at them. Five minutes later, it’d start all over again. The one guy that appeared to be in charge of the hoodlums seemed to be getting more and more edgy as the time went by. I was losing hope.

  I tried to engage Tamara in conversation, wishing that it would make her let us go, if she could just remember what good friends we used to be. “Is your mom living in Hawaii now?”

  Tamara threw her leg over the arm of the chair she was lounging in. “Yeah. She doesn’t want to see Beverly Hills again. She doesn’t want to see this place again. Too many memories.”

  “Yeah, my mom spends a lot of her time there, too.”

  Tamara giggled. “With her so-called boyfriends that are half her age. Face it, Glori, your mom’s a slut.”

  Yeah, that was effective.

  I figured all was pretty much lost, so I might as well be satisfied with some details before I died. “So Tamara, why did Colonel Johnson blow up your room at the Monchsberg Hotel when we were there for Cindy’s wedding? I thought you said he loved you.”

  Tamara used that fake wicked laugh. “I wanted to make sure I wasn’t a suspect. So I arranged for an explosion when my bodyguard opened the door. The door and the bodyguard shielded me. I had some cuts and bruises, so I looked injured. And I had the hope that the bomb would have killed Debbie and her murderer husband in the room below. Unfortunately, somehow they escaped. But not this time. Not this time.”

  Then somebody yelled, “He’s here.”

  ***

  They watched David disappear through the door and immediately went to work. Quickly, quietly, efficiently, Alain, Eduardo and Jimmy eliminated the guards one by one. Then they prepared for their assault on the mansion.

  ***

  Felix, the camera guy, ran to the foyer in time to film David coming through the door. There were four guys behind him holding their guns on him while another one patted him down. They sure seemed scared of him.

  David walked into the parlor, and I got the feeling that, despite all the men with guns, he owned the room. He was kind of scary looking—six and a half feet of muscle in some kind of black commando uniform. He seemed to take in everything from people to furnishings in a dispassionate scan of the room. There was not a hint of emotion on his face. But I could begin to smell the fear of our captors.

  Tamara could sense it too, and she now looked less cocky. She kept a good ten feet away from him. “They all tell me you’re a legend with a gun.” She gave him a sneering smile. “Big deal. You can’t outdo thirty-four men with you as their target. Let’s face it, you’re going down. And you’re going to suffer. And it’ll all be recorded, so you’re wife and kids can watch the DVD. Won’t that be fun?”

  I watched him look at her, and there was nothing in his eyes. Nothing. Just a hint of that sarcastic curl to his lip.

  Tamara straightened up like she was making a big announcement. “David Lambrecht, you are sentenced to death for the cold-blooded murder of Senator John Everett and his five bodyguards. David Lambrecht, you are sentenced to death for the cold-blooded murder of Z—a thousand times the man you could ever hope to be. David Lambrecht, you are sentenced to death for the cold-blooded murder of Colonel JL Johnson. David Lambrecht, you are sentenced to death for making necessary the cold-blooded murder of Kendra Cole. What have you got to say for yourself?”

  David arched a brow. “Thank you for clearing that up.”

  Uh oh. He really pissed her off now. Tamara had daggers in her eyes.

  “You piece of shit. I only wish Z butchered your pitiful wife while you watched him in Carmel. But I’ll get revenge for him.”

  David was cool, calm and collected. “You’ve got me. You’ve got what you want. Why don’t you let Glori and Becky go now? They don’t need to see this. They can watch the DVD.”

  Whoa. Now she was enraged. Her face turned magenta.

  “You fucking bastard. They’re gonna watch you die for your crimes. They’re gonna watch you hacked limb from limb. Just like you did to my father. Then all those little pieces of you are going into the ocean, so the fish can feed on you. Except the choice pieces that I’ll send to your stupid wife and your idiot whore, Darla. They’ll appreciate that.”

  She turned to the leader of the hoodlums, and he brought down this Samurai-looking sword from the mantel where it had been artistically placed. I almost peed in my pants. Becky dug her fingernails into my arm.

  In the madness of desperation I yelled to Tamara. “Ya know David didn’t hack up those guys. He just shoots people. The fish ate them. That’s why pieces of your dad washed up on t
he beach.”

  My stomach gave a heave, and I wondered how I could be so crazy dumb. Of course, she knew exactly what happened, or thought she did. Like I could call this whole thing off by clarifying that one crucial point. Some actress I was.

  David grinned at me, and Tamara’s red face twisted into contortions.

  Then David took an actual step forward toward the guy, and he stepped back. At least one of them was normal, sort of.

  He smirked at the guy. “You should be careful with that. That’s a Katana sword—very sharp. You could hurt yourself.” David sounded like he was talking to a two year old.

  Tamara practically had steam coming out of her ears. “He’s going to slice you into tiny little bits with that sword, you bastard.”

  David looked at Tamara. “I’m afraid you picked the wrong man for that job. He doesn’t even know how to hold it. I’ll show you how it’s done.”

  Tamara’s eyes popped, and she moved backward—probably an instinct to save herself.

  That tiny distraction, as I watched Tamara’s retreat, was enough time for David to relieve the guy of the sword. Becky started screaming, and I saw the guy’s head fall. The body crumpled to the floor.

  In that instant there was a deafening explosion, and every window in the building shattered at once. We were pelted in a hail of glass shards and plaster and who knew what. Becky’s nails dug through my forearm as I literally fell out of my shoes and onto the floor. Shots rang out all over the place. It was like it happened in slow motion.

  I don’t know where David got the gun, but I was mesmerized by him picking off bad guys like ducks in a shooting gallery. When a bullet whizzed by my ear, I snapped out of it. As I decided I needed to cover my head, Alain was on top of me, shielding me, and shooting.

  I could see that ugly hulk with the shaved head take aim at us from behind a chair. His gun misfired, and he ducked behind it as Alain’s shot blew a hole through the upholstery and hit the wall.