by Zoey Parker
Chapter 20
Bax
Bax sat in one of the plush chairs in his hotel room as he practiced his most disapproving look. He felt like he had the expression itself down—stony, with a furrowed brow and a judgmental glint in the eyes. But he was having trouble deciding on the rest of his pose.
Both feet planted, both arms down on the armrests? No, it was too open, and it reminded him of the Lincoln Memorial.
Legs crossed wide, fingers steepled together in front of him? That felt better, but it still seemed forced somehow, like something a Bond villain would do.
Legs crossed at the knee, arms half-crossed with his chin in his hand? Pretentious. He was trying to intimidate a mob boss, not pose for an author photo.
Legs together, arms folded tight against his chest? What, was he a toddler refusing to eat or something? No.
“Have you figured out which pose is sexiest yet?” Tommy asked from his seat in the corner. “I mean, I knew you were vain, but Jesus Christ, enough with the primping and bullshit.”
“It's important to get it just right,” Bax replied. “Just stay quiet and remember your part.”
“Yeah, yeah, it ain't complicated,” Tommy sighed.
Just as Bax was considering standing behind the chair with his hands clamped on its back—bold, adversarial, like a caged tiger who might escape and pounce—there was a knock at the door. Bax quickly decided to go with the Lincoln pose after all, and motioned for Mule to answer the door.
When Bax saw Benny walk in with Silvio behind him, he felt a spasm of sadistic glee. Clearly, the pressure and anticipation were making Benny fall apart. His tie was askew, his suit was unevenly buttoned, his hair resembled a white bird's nest, and he was missing a cuff link. His shoes were scuffed, and it looked like he hadn't shaved in days. He'd allowed his manicure to lapse, and his fingernails had been chewed ragged.
Best of all, the crooked, frantic smile on his face was that of a dog who'd been beaten and still acted happy to see its master.
I own you, cocksucker, Bax thought as he remained in his seat and let Benny walk over to him.
It was why he'd made a point of not arranging another meeting at The Hurricane Club. This time, Benny would come to him. This time, it would be extremely obvious to both of them who had the upper hand and who didn't.
“Max, Tommy, Leo, it's such a pleasure to see you again,” Benny said, grabbing Bax's hand and shaking it. Bax let him do this, but didn't return the handshake, allowing his arm to flop up and down until Benny released it. This clearly upset Benny even more, and his anxious smile widened. “Are you enjoying the car? It's lovely, isn't it?”
“I didn't ask you here to talk about the car, Benny.” Bax kept his tone curt and impatient, as though Benny was supposed to already know why he'd been summoned.
“Hey, Leo, chill out, okay?” Tommy said uneasily. “Don Altamura is a reasonable man. There's no reason we can't all be civil about this...”
Bax shot Tommy a venomous look, and Tommy immediately shut his mouth.
“Is this about Stef? I swear, I don't know what gets into that girl's head, truly. But whatever it is, I'm sure she'll get over it. She'll still marry you if I tell her to. Nothing's changed on that score, I assure you.” Benny actually licked his lips and let out a nervous laugh.
“I'm going to ask you one question,” Bax said coolly. “And I need to know if you can give me an honest answer.”
Benny spread his arms helplessly. “Leo, why would you ask me that? I'm hurt. You know my reputation, you know I'm an honorable man—”
“Can you give me a straight answer?” Bax asked through clenched teeth, punctuating each word with a period. “Yes or no.”
Benny swallowed hard. “Yes, Leo. You have to know I'd never lie to you.”
“Good. Now: Did you tell anyone about my father's situation? Anyone at all?”
“No!” Benny exclaimed immediately. “Of course not.”
“Don't lie to me, Benny. Come clean now, before it's too late.”
Silvio bristled. “Don Altamura already told you he hasn't said anything to anyone. That should be enough for you.”
Benny put up a hand to silence him. “Silvio, please. This doesn't concern you.” He looked at Bax imploringly. “Leo, I swear on my life—on my daughter's life—I haven't told a soul about your father. You, me, Tommy, and Silvio are the only ones who know what's going on. And Max, I guess, but it's not like he could tell anyone. Please, won't you tell me what's happened? Whatever it is, I promise, I'll do anything I can to help.”
“I wired the ransom money to the kidnappers last week.” Bax tried to sound like he could barely keep his anger in check. “Today, I got a call from them. They found out who my father really is, and they told me the ransom has now tripled. They want another ten million for his release. So I'm going to ask you one more time, Benny, and I want you to look me in the eyes when you answer. Did you or did you not tell someone about this?”
Benny looked directly into Bax's eyes. “No. I didn't tell anyone. And I can assure you, Silvio didn't either.”
Bax made a show of thinking this over for a moment. Finally, he said, “I believe you.”
Then he pulled a silenced handgun from his shoulder holster and fired three shots into Tommy's chest. Benny gasped, and Silvio flinched, his hand going for his own gun.
Tommy looked down at the bloody holes the exploding squibs had left in the front of his shirt. His mouth worked soundlessly for a moment, and he slumped over to one side, pretending to be dead.
“If it wasn't you or Silvio, then it had to be Tommy,” Bax said, tucking his gun back into its holster. “I always suspected that weasel was in it for himself. This proves it.”
Silvio hesitated, then put his pistol away warily.
Benny took a few deep breaths, trying to get himself under control. “Right. It had to be him. Of course. And now that he's out of the picture, I hope you'll allow me to use my resources to dispose of the body for you.”
Bax shook his head. “No, thank you. I suspected that it would come to this, and I've already made arrangements. But as a gesture of good faith, I want you to honor your pledge to me that you'd do anything to see my father released.” He peered at Benny through the wisps of gun smoke drifting through the room. “Do we understand each other?”
“Absolutely.” Benny took a handkerchief from his pocket, dabbing his forehead with it. “I'll have to move some things around, but I should be able to get the ten million for you in three days. Okay?”
Bax nodded serenely. “Fine. Now leave, please. I have a lot on my mind.”
“Of course.” Benny started toward the door. Silvio followed, still frowning at Tommy's limp body. “And if there's anything else I can do for you, please, let me know. Whatever it is, I'm here to help. Okay, Leo?”
Bax didn't answer.
He waited until the door had shut behind Benny and Silvio and he heard them get on the elevator down the hall. Then he threw his head back and laughed. “Wow, did you guys see the expression on Benny's face? He looked like he was about to get smacked in the nose with a rolled-up newspaper! Ha!”
Mule nodded, grinning.
“Glad you're having a good fucking time,” Tommy groaned, straightening up and gingerly inspecting his chest. “Even with the extra layers on, these things hurt like a son of a bitch when they go off. Christ, I think one of them blew off a damn nipple.”
“When we're done, you can buy yourself two extra nipples and a couple of tits to put them on,” Bax said. “Now buck up. We've just got a few more moves to make, and then comes the big payday.”
Chapter 21
Bax
Three days later, Bax sat on the bed in the hotel room, drinking the tiny bottles of liquor from the mini-bar. He looked down at the stacks of bills that had been fanned out across the blanket. In the corner, Mule was slumped over in a chair, snoring heavily. It was almost midnight.
Oh, the hand-off had gone smoothly, all right. Benn
y showed up with Silvio, still apologizing and insisting on his own innocence as he gave Bax the valise with the ten million dollars in it. He'd invited Bax to count it to make sure everything was there, but Bax imperiously stated that he was sure it was—with the vaguest hint of a threat in his voice—and dismissed Benny, saying he'd be in touch within the week about his father's release.
And now here it all was. Ten million dollars—and if the five million had been more money than Bax had ever seen before, then ten looked like someone else's dream coming true before his eyes. He had to reach out and touch it just to confirm that it was real.
Combined with the previous payoff, it was fifteen million. Split seven ways, that was over two million dollars per involved party. The biggest score of Bax's life and it was his, free and clear.
They'd pushed their luck, and it had paid off. Benny would have had to liquidate most of his personal cash reserve to pay this off, as well as about a third of his mob businesses. Between that and the sudden loss of his only heroin connection, he wouldn't be in much of a position to retaliate once he realized he'd been conned.
Now it was time for the loot to be divided and for Bax to split, laughing all the way.
So why didn't he feel happy about any of it?
He wished the answer were elusive, but unfortunately, he knew exactly what it was and he loathed himself for it.
It was Stef.
He couldn't get her out of his mind. He hated the fact that the last time he'd seen her, he'd made her cry. He couldn't bear the thought that every mile he put between himself and New Orleans was also a mile he put between himself and her.
So what? his brain sneered at him. You've left behind a hundred crying girls in a hundred other towns, and you were always mighty sure they'd get over it. Why not? You always did, right? You can break some other girl's heart in the next town, and the next. Isn't that part of the adventure?
It always had been before, but this time, it felt different. Part of it was the way Stef had smiled at him during the end of their first date—the happiness and trust and wanting he'd seen sparkling in her eyes, and all of it just for him. Based on his previous sexual encounters, Bax had come to believe that less-experienced partners generally weren't much fun. Too much fumbling and hesitation and uncertainty.
But with Stef, it had been different. She'd welcomed him into her and embraced him completely with a fierceness he'd never known before, as though she'd been waiting for him her whole life.
Or maybe he'd been waiting for her?
Deep down, though, he knew there was another reason he was having trouble with the concept of leaving her. The way her parents tried to control her and dictate every aspect of her life, right down to who she'd marry—it had reminded him of something before, but he hadn't been able to put his finger on it until tonight. And now that he had, he wished he hadn't.
He reached into the mini-bar for another bottle and twisted the cap off, drinking it without bothering to look at the label first.
Once upon a time, there'd been a little boy named Baxter Barton whose parents lived in Grosse Tete. Their family wasn't nearly as wealthy as the Altamuras—Baxter's father was a surgeon, and his mother was a software designer—but they were still firmly ensconced in the upper middle class, with an emphasis on the “upper.”
And they'd had such plans for their beloved little boy, hadn't they? That was how they'd always said it, in hushed, eager tones: Such plans, as though they could wrap up their son's entire future in a shiny gift box and present it to him with a big bow, pre-assembled, batteries included, nothing required of him except to take it and say “Thank you.”
Such plans meant sending him to a private school, far from the playmates he'd had when he was younger. Such plans meant no meat, no soda, nothing sweet, nothing fried. Such plans meant piano lessons three days a week, baseball practice all weekend, and church every Sunday. Such plans meant he'd go to whichever college they chose for him, and such plans meant forced dates with Isabelle, the glum, pimply girl who came from the only other family in town that was even close to the Bartons in wealth and status.
And then came Skull, and heavy metal music, and motorcycles, and teenage rebellion. Then came the fledgling Voodoo Devils, and blowing town at age 17 without ever looking back.
And if Skull hadn't come into Bax's life at just the right moment to save him from his parents' tyranny, what then? Would he be working in an office, doing a job he hated for people he couldn't stand? Would he be married to Isabelle? Would he visit his mother and father for bland brunches every weekend so they could nag him about when he'd give them grandchildren? Would his parents have such plans for them too?
Skull had saved Bax from that life. And if Bax didn't do the same for Stef, who would?
Mule let out a particularly loud snort, farted, shifted his position, and started snoring again.
He was staying in Bax's room to keep up the appearance of being his bodyguard, but Bax knew there was another reason too: He'd been tasked with keeping an eye on Bax, to make sure he didn't do anything else the others wouldn't approve of.
So all this speculating about Stef's future without him—or with him, for that matter—was moot, wasn't it? His co-conspirators had almost drawn and quartered him when they found out he'd had sex with Stef. Even if he could somehow see her again, the rest of them would be furious when they heard about it.
Unless...
Bax stood up slowly, setting the small bottle down on the nightstand and thinking hard.
Unless he could somehow make his rendezvous with Stef into a guarantee of even more money for all of them. Unless he could turn it into part of the score itself. They couldn't be too angry then, could they? Sure, maybe they'd yell and curse at him a little for changing the plan again without telling them, but ultimately, they'd want that extra cash. Who wouldn't?
You're drunk, his brain informed him sourly. You're horny, you're lovesick, and you're making stupid excuses for a bad decision.
It's a brilliant decision, his heart shot back. Who wants to see Benny Altamura taken down even more than Skull and the others?
Stef, that's who.
Bax crept across the hotel room, keeping his eyes fixed on Mule. He made it to the door and stepped out, closing it gently behind him. When he got down to the lobby, he ducked into the bar and ordered a cup of strong black coffee.
For this next part, he'd need it.
Chapter 22
Bax
Bax stood outside the high gate surrounding Altamura's house. He remained behind the tall bushes, peering in.
Scaling the gate itself wouldn't be too difficult, except that he'd have to find a way to keep the loose bars from rattling together and drawing attention to him as he climbed. He'd already found several thick sticks beneath the foliage, and he'd wedged them into the spaces between the bars so they wouldn't move around and make noise.
Avoiding the lone guard with a shotgun who patrolled the grounds wouldn't present much of a challenge, either. It was a large house, and once the guard disappeared around the corner, Bax would have about three or four minutes to shimmy up the gate and run across the lawn.
No, the real problem was what came after that.
Bax knew he couldn't go in through any doors or windows on the ground floor—someone like Altamura would certainly have a hell of a security system in place, and he couldn't risk an alarm going off. There was a wooden trellis at the side of the house with a window right next to it, but who knew what was behind it? Benny's bedroom? And even if it wasn't, could Bax really expect to sneak around the second floor trying to find Stef's room without being caught? For that matter, even if he could, what reaction could he expect from Stef if he just pushed open her door and walked in?
Wow, I must have been pretty drunk, Bax thought. This plan was incredibly stupid.
Suddenly, a light switched on in the window next to the trellis. Bax saw Stef's face in it, looking out into the night. She wore a nightgown, and without her mak
eup, Bax thought she looked more beautiful than ever despite the sadness in her eyes.
It's a sign, Bax thought, smiling. I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be tonight, and the plan's going to work after all.
Stef watched the armed guard stroll across the lawn. When he went around the corner, she withdrew from the window.
It was time.
Bax hopped up onto the gate, using the cross-bars as footholds. The bars swayed and wobbled a little, but the pieces of wood between them kept them from hitting each other. When Bax reached the top, he considered climbing back down the other side carefully, then figured it was better to save time and jump. He landed badly on his right ankle, rolling it. The pain was sharp, and he almost cried out.
He hobbled across the grass as quickly as he could, agony flaring in his ankle with every step. He knew this would make climbing the trellis a lot harder than he thought, and he briefly considered turning back and hopping the gate again before he was discovered.
