After lunch had been cleared away from the breakfast table, we remained in the kitchen. I was still nursing my same drink from lunch while Dallas refilled his glass, as well as David’s, with yet another round of whiskey and soda.
“I thought you only drank vodka,” I said as I watched Dallas swirl the liquor around in his glass.
“I do, except when there is a very fine forty year old whiskey in the house.” He nodded to David. “Besides, he hates to drink alone.”
I turned my eyes back to David. “He shouldn’t be drinking at all.” I scolded.
“You’re in trouble,” Dallas said to David.
David sighed and held up his drink. “I’m always in trouble as far as Nicci is concerned.”
“She is a bit difficult to live with,” Dallas admitted.
“Stubborn as all hell,” David offered with a sigh. “Won’t budge an inch on some things.”
“Wants to debate you on every topic as well,” Dallas remarked, scowling.
I frowned at both men. “Will you two stop it? Shouldn’t you guys be coming up with strategies, or back up plans, or something instead of just sitting here and comparing notes on me?”
David smiled at me. “Hardly comparing notes, Nicci. More like reviewing your imperfections.”
Dallas shrugged. “Glad to know you were just as much a pain in the ass for David as you were for me.”
“I was not…”
Uncle Lance unexpectedly sauntered into the kitchen. “Sorry, kid, but you’re a big pain in the ass,” he asserted from the doorway. “Even your father will attest to that.”
I stood from the table. “Uncle Lance, don’t tell me you’re on their side!”
Uncle Lance walked up to the table. It was then I noticed the brown leather backpack slung over his shoulder.
“Wouldn’t dream of taking sides, Nic. Just stating the obvious. That’s all,” he clarified as he carefully placed the backpack on the table and zipped it open. He removed a gun from inside of the backpack and turned to Dallas. “Sig Sauer P226, as you requested,” Uncle Lance stated and handed Dallas the gun.
Dallas stood up next to me and tested the weight of the pistol in his hand.
Uncle Lance reached into the backpack again and pulled out another gun. “.40 caliber Smith and Wesson compact pistol. It’s close to your .357 in stopping power, but a lot lighter and easier to conceal.” He placed the gun firmly in David’s right hand. “Ammo is in the pack for each gun. Both guns are untraceable. Serial numbers have been taken off with acid,” he explained.
“When did you decide on this?” I asked as I waved at the backpack on table.
“While I was out I went shopping for the boys,” Uncle Lance replied. “I figured we could use some extra fire power around here. All Valie has is an old shotgun in her bedroom. And David’s gun is registered to George Elliot. I needed to get him something that couldn’t be traced.”
I watched as Dallas and David inspected their guns.
“Excuse me, but shouldn’t we be looking for Simon?” I asked.
All three men turned to me. They seemed more interested in their guns than the man they needed to use them on.
“No, Nicci,” Dallas spoke up beside me. “We need to wait for Simon to make his move.”
I waved around the kitchen. “So we sit around here and wait for Greg to go after Simon?”
Dallas shrugged. “We hope Greg goes after Simon. But if doesn’t, we have to have an alternative plan in place to deal with Simon.”
“But you were confident Greg would take the deal you’re going to offer him tonight? What changed your mind?” I questioned.
“You always have to take into account those uncontrollable variables, Nicci. You can never truly predict a person’s behavior and you need to plan accordingly. I told you once you never assume anything. It only leads to deadly mistakes.”
I rolled my eyes. “So what’s the alternative plan?”
David frowned at me as he placed his pistol down on the table in front of him. “If Caston refuses your offer tonight then I will call Simon and tell him I’m going back to New York with him.”
My throat tightened. “New York? You’re joking?”
David let out frustrated sigh as he repositioned himself in his chair. “Nicci, if Caston doesn’t take the deal, I have to go back to New York with Simon.”
I placed my hands on my hips. “Why?”
“Once I’m back with Simon, I will be in position to take over his organization. After that, I can eliminate Simon.”
I glared at David. “But you said you didn’t want to eliminate Simon in case someone came after you. You didn’t want to spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder.”
“That was before he threatened you and your family,” David admitted as he rubbed is hand along the duct tape covering his left shoulder. “He wants me and I’m afraid he will hurt you to get to me. If Greg won’t help us, then I will have to get rid of Simon and take my chances.”
My stomach began curling into uncomfortable knots. “But that’s crazy. What if Simon finds out what you are up to? How am I going to be able to help you in New York?” I shook my head. “No, you have to stay in New Orleans. We can control the situation better here.”
“You’re the one who’s going to be staying in New Orleans, Nicci. Out of the way and out of danger.” David pointed to my uncle. “Lance and his well-connected friends are going to protect you. I can’t go after Simon if I have to worry about keeping you safe.”
“After you and Dallas have finished at Greg’s tonight,” Uncle Lance said as he came up to me. “I’ll take you to a safe house Carl Bordonaro has in the city. You can stay there until David sends the all clear for you to join him.”
I turned back to David. “When did you decide all of this?” I asked.
“After Dallas told me Simon had called and threatened you,” David replied.
“But he could kill you in New York, or hold you prisoner?”
David motioned across the table to Dallas. “Dallas will be there to watch my back.”
Dallas nodded slightly and looked at me. “When David returns with Simon to New York, I’m going to be with him. I can monitor the situation and step in if David signals that he needs me,” he declared.
I waved a frustrated hand at my uncle. “Tell them this is crazy?” I implored.
“I have to admit it’s a good back up plan, kid,” Uncle Lance conceded.
“You’re all against me?” I shouted.
David slowly got up from his chair and limped over to me. “It’s because of you that Dallas, Lance, and I are doing this. It’s the only way to make sure you remain safe. We don’t have a choice here, Nicci. This is what has to be done.”
I examined his black and blue face. His lower lip was still puffy and his right eye had a large black circle beneath it. I couldn’t help but wonder what further calamity would befall him if he went through with his plan.
“I guess you guys have everything already planned for me. Fine. Just fine!” I headed to the kitchen door. “Just let me know if there is anything else you require of me,” I yelled over my shoulder.
“Nicci!” David called out behind me.
But I was already heading toward the entrance to the courtyard, and in no mood to talk to him. I was furious with all three men for planning my life without any input from me. It felt as if I had gone back in time to my days as a New Orleans debutante. Doing what everyone else expected of me and not doing what I wanted. And what I really wanted, more than anything else, was to keep David here with me.
I walked into the courtyard and took in a few deep breaths. I listened to the normalcy of the world outside and was suddenly envious of the people living beyond the garden walls. All my life I had fought to be the exception to the rule, and now all I wanted was to blend in with everyone else. The prospect of a mundane existence filled with surmountable obstacles and trivial annoyances seemed an unattainable dream for me. As we glean books
and magazines about exotic destinations and breathtaking stories of intrigue, we yearn for such adventure and excitement in our lives. But living in the midst of such turmoil is far from fulfilling. Like most of life’s little ironies, it’s the tedious existence that garners the greater rewards. Fantasy, unlike reality, reads better than it lives.
“You’re angry,” Uncle Lance said behind me. “You always want to be alone when you’re really pissed off.”
I turned and caught sight of my uncle standing with the rays of the midday sun hovering about his head like an undeserved halo. He was frowning at me, but I could tell he found more humor in the situation than gravity. His green eyes were filled with their usual mischief.
I folded my arms across my chest. “You know how much I hate it when other people plan my life for me.”
“Everything that we have planned is to protect you. Dallas and David are risking their lives for you, kid.”
“I know that, Uncle Lance. But maybe the three of you could have talked to me about what I want to do.”
He smiled. “We know you well enough to be sure of what you would want to do. That’s why we didn’t bother to ask you, Nicci.”
I turned away from my uncle. “I finally have a hold of what I want in my life and then everyone goes behind my back and plots to take it away from me.” I marched over to the black wrought iron table and plopped down in a chair.
Uncle Lance slowly walked up to the table. “I know how you feel, kid. But until this situation is over, you’re gonna have to try and play along. You just make it harder on everyone when you argue over every detail.” He pulled out a chair next to mine.
I turned my eyes to the garden beds beside us and watched as bright rays of sunlight highlighted the blooming red and white azaleas planted there. “Do you think this will ever be over, Uncle Lance?”
He sighed as he took a seat in his chair. “It will end one day. David and Dallas will make it end.”
I looked my uncle in the eye. “And which one of them do you think I will lose in the process?”
He shrugged. “Maybe neither of them, maybe both of them. But no matter what happens you must accept the fact that this is what they want for you.”
“If I lose either one of them how I will be able to go on? Because no matter the outcome, Uncle Lance, my life will never be the same.”
“No, but you will have a life, Nicci. And that is all that matters to David and Dallas.”
I stood from my chair and shook my head. “I can’t go back in there and face them right now.”
Uncle Lance stood up next to me. “I’m sorry all of this hasn’t quite turned out as you expected.”
I gave him a questioning glance. “And what did you think I was expecting?”
He shrugged. “What we all hope for in the end. Your happily ever after. Unfortunately, Nicci, you will learn that happiness comes with a lot of strings attached to it.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“Why don’t you stay out here and cool off for a little while,” he said as he patted my shoulder.
“Thank you, Uncle Lance.”
My uncle strutted across the courtyard toward the house.
After I heard the back door close, I turned my attention to the alley that led to the street gate. The wrought iron bars on the gate made me feel as if I were a prisoner serving a self-imposed life sentence. The reality of David’s return had not lived up to my fantasy laden expectations, and I felt more hopelessness than hope about our future together. As I stared at the gate, I toyed with the idea of leaving the confines of the patio and walking among the tourists in the French Quarter. Beyond that cloistered courtyard there was a world filled with regular people, and I longed to be a part of their average lives. My nervous restlessness over the coming evening with Greg Caston only fueled my desire to get away. Overwhelmed by the thought of all the lies and deceptions that lay ahead, I suddenly felt driven to feel normal again. Pushing my common sense to the back of my mind, I headed for the gate. A short stroll around the block to clear my head, I reasoned, and then I would come back and face David and Dallas. And with my resolve stubbornly dug in, I opened for the iron gate.
Out on the open street my spirits immediately improved. I felt in control again. As I confidently sauntered down the sidewalk, I spotted a few street performers gathered at a nearby corner. A small crowd of people were listening to the sounds of the trio of musicians performing a familiar Jazz tune on a guitar, fiddle, and flute. I approached the crowd and a sense of normalcy settled over me. I was just like everyone around me; a simple tourist enjoying all that this fair city had to offer.
I stood in the back of the small group of people and happily lost myself in the solace of the moment. I was tapping my feet in time with the music when a familiar high-pitched voice caught my ear.
“Hello, my dear Nicci.”
I spun around to see Simon La Roy standing next to me.
My blood turned to ice.
Simon was impatiently tapping his silver handled cane on the ground with his left hand. I noticed his right hand was concealing something beneath his white suit jacket.
His dark eyes glared at me. “Please refrain from any cries for help,” he said. He tucked the cane under his arm and opened the front of his jacket.
In Simon’s right hand was a .38 caliber revolver. He nudged the gun closer to my side.
He closed his jacket, keeping the gun hidden from view. “I was hoping for David to emerge from your little sanctuary, but you will do. Now I suggest you come with me. I want no sudden moves. Just walk calmly and slowly away with me.”
“Where are we going, Simon?”
He gave me an evil smile and whispered, “Someplace where no one can find you.”
***
Half an hour later, I was kneeling on the cold cement floor of an abandoned house not far from the French Quarter. Simon had tied my hands to some exposed pipes in the wall behind me. The empty house had been damaged by Katrina and not yet gutted. The black water line from the floodwaters that had inundated the city was still visible on the wall around me. The air was heavy with humidity and the smell of decay. I tried to breathe through my mouth to avoid the sickening odor. Black mold covered the walls and ceiling while dirt and debris ran in irregular patterns along the floor. The warped sheetrock had started pulling away from the studs beneath, leaving electrical wiring and water pipes exposed. And on the floor in the corner of the room, lay an old blue tarpaulin. It was the same kind of tarpaulin that had been used after Katrina to cover damaged roofs. On top of the thick piece of plastic, I spied a small gray jacket and an oversized black purse. I could not quite make out what was hidden beneath the blue plastic, but something inside of me knew whatever it was, it wasn’t good.
“It’s not the Royal Orleans, but it will do for now,” Simon announced as he placed his revolver on the floor next to his cane and wiped off a dusty plastic chair in front of me. “There are thousands of such homes to choose from in this city, making it an almost certainty that we will never be found.” He took a seat in his chair.
I tried to subdue the chilling sensation of fear rising up in the back of my throat. “I will be missed, Simon. My family will be looking for me. And I have an appointment this evening. If I don’t show up, people will wonder what happened to me.”
“I already know about your little meeting with Gregory. And I know Dallas August will be there as well. Imagine my surprise to learn that my best former specialist was in town and not back in Connecticut as I had been informed. He always was a clever fellow.”
“How did you know about my meeting with Greg?”
“The same way I know about all of Gregory’s comings and goings. I have had someone on the inside feeding me information about his organization for years. He tried to do the same thing to me once, but his specialist was quite inept.” Simon paused as his beady, little eyes inspected me. “You are going to keep your meeting with dear Gregory tonight, but there will be one more addition to
our little get together. You are going to call David and tell him to join us,” he ordered in a dark tone.
“Why? Why are you doing this?” I asked as I pulled against the exposed pipes behind me.
“To clean up the mess created by you and your pretty face.” He picked up the gun from the floor and pointed it at me. “From the day David came down here and first saw you, I have had nothing but trouble. I could not allow him to just walk away from me, not after everything I had done for him. So I planned to get him back. And then your silly Michael Fagles stepped in, ruining my plans. I had to act quickly and rearrange so much to get David back on his feet. It took ages to make him useful to me once again and then…he disappeared.” Leaving his cane on the floor, Simon easily got up from the chair and walked over to the blue tarpaulin.
“So you’re not as disabled as you portray,” I called out behind him.
He turned and saw me nodding to his cane. “I told you before; I’m an actor, Nicci. Where would an actor be without his props,” he said. He grabbed at the plastic sheet and began to slowly pull it back.
As the hidden object beneath the blue plastic covering was revealed, I felt my stomach heave upward.
“Oh, my God,” I cried out.
Lying face up on the floor, with her lifeless eyes open, was Jenny Ryan. She was wearing a blue dress shirt, gray slacks, and black heels. Her skin was pasty white and a single gunshot wound to her left temple was still oozing blood. As I comprehended the senseless act that had been committed, a wave of nausea overtook me. And then I felt a sudden overpowering sense of panic take hold. If Simon La Roy could kill an innocent girl without remorse, what in the hell was he going to do to me?
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