by Shay Savage
“Most definitely.” Jenna smacked my ass before she turned and sauntered down the hall. I shook my head slightly before heading to the exit and out into the street.
For the next several weeks, Gavino sent me after a variety of characters in Chicago’s underworld. They weren’t often Rinaldo’s people—there was supposed to be a truce between the families though it was always a tentative one. It was like the Cold War between the United States and the Soviet Union—a necessity to keep both families operating but not because either organization liked the idea. I found out very quickly that Gavino was reaching into many of the businesses that had been carved out for the Moretti family.
Of course, Rinaldo was doing the same thing.
I had also managed to be far too busy to meet up with Jenna, though she had approached me a couple of different times. There was always someone else about though, so she had made do with lecherous glances from across the room. The couple of times we had spoken, it was clear she was far more open than she should be. With just a little casual conversation and light touches, I had already gathered some information that may very well prove useful. She liked to vent about her job a bit, and some of that venting was more than she should have let on.
At Gavino’s request, I stayed away from Rurik completely. It was clear he didn’t like me, and Gavino’s thought on that type of conflict was to avoid it. I would have preferred to handle it a bit more violently, but I was given very precise instructions to not kill anyone who wasn’t on my list.
I kept out of sight as much as possible. My traveling arrangements were still convoluted, and I either stayed at the apartment with Lia or the hotel room near Quay. I didn’t go out or show my face in public, and thus far, Rinaldo had yet to contact me.
Somehow, my hearing date kept getting pushed back as well, so I hadn’t had to appear in court with my attorney. He’d been leaving messages through the correctional center, but I hadn’t returned any of them. I assumed Trent was behind the court’s failure to offer me a speedy trial, and that was also working out well. I wasn’t sure what I would do if I actually needed to appear in court.
It was only a matter of time before Rinaldo caught up with me, but I was hoping I would have enough time to get the goods on Greco before that happened. I did talk to Trent on the phone but had avoided having to meet him in person. I claimed it was because we shouldn’t be seen together, but that only worked for so long.
He wanted to meet in neutral territory and was no longer taking no for an answer. I finally gave in but picked a place I was familiar with for our meeting—the 676 Bar and Grill in the Omni Hotel downtown.
I knew there was something not right almost immediately.
There was something about the way he walked into the bar that bothered me right away. Feds are usually easy to spot with the way they walk in like they own everything, and that was the sort of stride he had when he walked into the visiting room at the prison, but this time it was different. I couldn’t quite give it a name, but it was somehow lighter—more confident. Like he knew he had a pair of aces in the hole and everyone else was holding shit.
“Tell me what you got,” Trent said as soon as he sat down at the bar.
“Let’s get some privacy first.”
I glanced over to Michele with one “L,” the bartender at 676, and got her attention. She refilled my scotch, got Trent the same, and I told her we were moving to the seats by the window. We made our way over to the grouping of chairs and couches that overlooked Michigan Avenue and sat down.
“Well, asshole? What do you have?”
“You’re quite the charmer,” I said with a chuckle. “You kiss your mama with that mouth?”
“Shut up and tell me what you know. You’ve given me nothing but shit for two weeks. If you give me something worthwhile, maybe I’ll tell you what I’ve heard.”
I stared at him for a long moment, but he didn’t appear to be bluffing. I wasn’t sure what kind of information he had, but it must be noteworthy enough to taunt me with it. Bringing it up so soon, though—that also meant he wanted me to hear whatever it was.
That was not good news.
If he had something he wanted to tell me so badly, it would most assuredly be something I wouldn’t like hearing. It also meant I needed to hear it, so I made sure Trent had something he would consider valuable.
“I have something you’re going to like,” I told Trent. I sipped my scotch before setting it on the table in front of me and leaning forward. “Greco’s got a woman working for him—a Miss Jenna Ranger. She’s the bitch that collects the goods for one of his businesses. She’s high up in the organization and thinks she’s invulnerable.”
“Yeah,” Trent said as he narrowed his eyes at me, “I know who she is. What about her?”
“Well, Greco’s not happy with her at the moment. It seems the last shipment of people-cargo wasn’t what it was supposed to be. His idea of punishment is that he’s going to go along for the ride personally when she picks up the next batch.”
“You mean he’s going to be there himself when she picks up a bunch of kidnapped kids, illegally smuggled into the country?”
“You got it.”
I could see actual drool as it formed at the corner of his mouth.
“When? Where?”
“The when is around the middle of October,” I said. “They haven’t decided on a where yet.”
“That’s still a ways off. When are you going to have the details?”
“Probably shortly after I bang the bitch,” I replied. I didn’t really intend to fuck Jenna, but I also knew Trent expected that kind of shit from me, and it might throw him off Lia a bit.
He smirked.
“You are a low-life little shit, aren’t you?” he said. “Every once in a while, I think maybe there’s something redeemable in there, but there isn’t. You’re just a fucked up, murdering, shell-shocked, piece-of-shit bastard.”
I’d been called worse.
“The shipment is coming from the Caribbean, probably Haiti or the Dominican Republic. I think they’re still in the process of acquiring the cargo.”
“Sick fuckers.”
I happened to agree with Trent on that one. I might not have had a whole lot of scruples, but that was one of them. He finished his drink and started to stand up without commenting any further.
“You had something to tell me?” I reminded him.
Trent’s eyes glittered as his mouth turned up.
“I do,” he acknowledged. “It’s pretty good and ripe, too.”
“So spill it.”
“Moretti knows you’re working for Greco,” Trent said with a sadistic little smile. “He’s on to you, seriously pissed off, and has decided to teach you a lesson by putting out a contract on your lady friend, if you even care.”
There was no lie in his voice or posture—none at all. What he was saying was completely true, and now Lia was officially caught up in the shit-storm that had been brewing since Trent and Johnson first visited me in jail.
“It’s an open contract,” he said. “First one to her gets the cash.”
“How much?” I asked.
“You thinking of taking the job?” Trent said as he laughed. “Kill her while you fuck her, maybe? That would make it an easy hit.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I growled.
He laughed again.
“So she does mean something to you? You got a funny way of showing it.”
“Answer the fucking question. How much is the contract worth?”
“Fifteen,” he told me. “Moretti must think she’s going to be an easy one to get.”
I wasn’t sure if I was more insulted that my girl’s price was so low or more thrilled that it wasn’t the kind of price that would attract hunters from out of town. Ultimately, I was glad there wouldn’t be too many others looking for her. I would probably be able to come up with the complete list of Chicago-based contract killers within a couple hours. I knew most of them already. We migh
t not have afternoon tea together, but we were still well aware of each other’s activities.
I wondered if my reputation alone would keep some of them away but decided it would actually work against me. There were definitely those who would consider a feather like that in their hats to be a drop on me even if Lia was a relatively easy target on her own.
I needed to get back to her.
“Thanks,” I muttered as I stood, downed my scotch, and began to move away.
“You make sure you get me the where long before the time comes. You got that, Arden?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
I was extra cautious on the way home. I took a much longer route and watched my back constantly. At one point on the L, I knew there was someone in dark clothing who had stepped on just as I had on the last two stops, and I tried to get a glimpse of him in the car. I couldn’t find anyone and considered that it might be my paranoia acting up again, but Lia wasn’t worth the risk.
I jumped out at the next stop and hung around outside the train for a while. I saw the same guy again—long dark jacket that was too heavy for the season and a hoodie pulled up over his head. I stepped onto the next train, watched him carefully as he did the same, and then I jumped off before the train started to move.
He was waiting for it and stepped off as well.
Well, that confirms that.
I wasn’t going to fuck around with him, either—not when Lia was my biggest concern. I walked out of the station and toward the alley nearby. I could hear the footsteps behind me—at this point he had to know I was on to him—and they were getting closer. I moved quickly over the puddles and junk on the blacktop, around a group of dumpsters, and into a doorway leading to the back entrance of an apartment building. I went up a half flight of stairs, checked that there was no one on the stairwell, turned, and waited.
He was inside just a moment after I turned, and I didn’t give a shit if it was paranoia or not. I pulled out my Beretta and fired.
My ears rang from the deafening blast as it echoed around in the stairwell. At the base of the stairs, the guy was struggling slightly, but there was no way he was ever going to get up again. The blast left a huge hole in his back, and there wouldn’t be any fixing that. Still, I moved back down the stairs and flipped him over with my boot.
I knew him.
Arthur Douglass was a small-time, independent contract killer. He wasn’t very good at it, tended to leave a mess and a lot of evidence. Though it hadn’t been enough to get caught, he still generally annoyed people who hired him. He’d obviously gone a little rogue, given the tattered jacket and hoodie. Maybe it was his idea of a disguise—I didn’t know and didn’t care.
“You’re an idiot,” I told him before I put another bullet in his head.
With my ears still ringing, I made my way back to the L and started all over again.
*****
“Will you at least tell me why I’m packing?”
Lia was understandably ticked off. I was giving her a lot of orders but not a lot of reasons why she needed to pack a bag immediately so I could move her to another location. Once I blew up at her completely, she realized how serious I was and started doing what I said, but she was still pissed.
I couldn’t really blame her, but I also didn’t want to scare the shit out of her. Telling her there was now a price on her head wasn’t going to give her any warm, fuzzy feelings.
“You’re packing because you are going to spend a few days away from here,” I said.
“Cryptic much?”
I went to the balcony and looked down below for anyone unusual hanging about. The only person I saw below was the bitchy old woman with the obviously pregnant dog out in the green space. It was probably about time for the pups to be born, and I wondered briefly how much cash it was going to cost me.
I pulled the curtains across the glass opening.
“You get your shit together,” I called over my shoulder. “I’m leaving for about ninety minutes. Don’t leave the apartment—not even to take Odin out. Don’t hang out around the windows. Don’t open the curtains. And don’t open the fucking door. Got it?”
Our eyes met, and I could see how close she was to losing it. I moved up to her quickly, holstered my Beretta, and pulled her against me.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered against her hair. “I just need to keep you safe, okay? Right now, it’s not safe here. I was being followed on the way back here. I took care of him, but there may be others I missed. I need to get you out of here and to someplace where I know you’re okay.”
She cringed at my words and looked away from me. I wanted to apologize for a couple other things as well, like not warning her there was a contract out for her death and maybe for kissing another woman while she fondled my cock, but I didn’t. I couldn’t imagine that it would help the situation at all and had a very real possibility of making it worse.
I kissed Lia softly on the forehead, then tilted her head up and placed another kiss on her lips. She sighed and leaned against me for a moment before she pushed back with her hands on my chest.
“I don’t like this,” she said. She sounded defeated, and I didn’t like it.
“I know, baby. But I’m close, or at least a lot closer. I have some good information, and if it pans out, we could be out of here in a couple of weeks—a month, tops.”
“Where are you going?”
“Back to my apartment,” I told her. “I need to get a few things.”
“Should I go with you?”
I brought my hand up to her cheek.
“I’d rather keep you close, but the chances of my apartment being watched are about one hundred percent. I don’t want you seen.”
“Why not?”
I let out an exasperated breath.
“Please, I can’t explain now. Just listen, okay?”
She pursed her lips but nodded her head. I kissed her once more before checking my Beretta and heading back out the door.
“Remember—don’t answer the door. Not for fucking anybody, all right?”
“I won’t.”
“Good.”
I didn’t want to waste time, so I took a slightly shorter route back to my apartment. I went up north first, so I would at least be coming in from another direction but still arrived in good time. I approached the door to the apartment quietly, listened a moment, and then went inside.
Nothing looked out of place, and maybe my paranoia was kicking in again and maybe it wasn’t, but I did have the distinct feeling someone had been there. There wasn’t anyone there now, though, so I starting to collect what I had come for.
Mainly money.
I had a lot of it stashed away, and though the cops had confiscated about eighty grand in cash lying in the back of my closet, there was still plenty hidden much more discreetly. I had that much in the open just for such an occurrence. If they had found only a few hundred dollars, they would have looked a lot harder to find the rest. They hadn’t even found the bit I had taped to the underside of the dresser, so it was likely they hadn’t found any of my other stashes.
There was a lot more.
In the kitchen underneath the refrigerator’s drip pan was ten grand. There was twenty more sealed in plastic inside the toilet bowl and fifty thousand inside the air ducts. I collected cash from a few other sites and ended up with a hundred and ten when I was done.
More than enough to get us going quickly if that was what we needed to do.
Inside my front closet, I selected one of my duffel bags from the never-ending supply and started to load it with the cash. I’d already been gone an hour, and I wanted to be back as soon as possible. I’d left Lia a little freaked out and wanted to be there with her to keep her calm. I still wasn’t sure if I should tell her about the price on her head or not. Maybe she should know—the situation was just too unfamiliar for me, and I didn’t know what I should do. Every time I thought about telling her, I’d play it over in my mind. Her reaction was never a good one.
My gun was in my hand and pointed at the front door less than a second later.
“Jesus fucking Christ!” I screamed at Jonathan Ferris. “Are you trying to get a fucking bullet in the head?”
“Well, I don’t have your fucking phone number anymore, asshole,” he replied. He pulled out a cigarette, shoved it into his mouth unlit, and leaned against the doorjamb. “How exactly was I supposed ta warn ya I was comin’?”
“Not the fucking point.” I wasn’t sure what the point was exactly, but I knew that wasn’t it. “I’m a little on edge here, and doing shit like that is going to get you killed.”
“I’m still standin’.”
“This time.” I glared at him for a moment before I sat back and leaned against the wall. I let out a long breath and then holstered my gun.
“You seem a little more trigger-happy than usual,” Jonathan said. “What’s up with that?”
I ignored the question, opting to pose one of my own instead.
“So, what’s the deal?” I asked. “Do you just hang around my apartment and wait for me to show up, or did you become psychic when I wasn’t looking?”
Jonathan laughed. He took a few steps across the room and pulled out the end table next to the couch. He reached down the leg and pointed out a small electronic device secured there.
“Motion detector,” he said simply. He held up his smartphone to show me a blinking app with text that read “EVAN’S HOME” across the screen. “Pretty straightforward, really.”
I rolled my eyes but was mostly annoyed with myself. I should have realized he’d have lots of ways of knowing where I was and what I was doing. I would have to be careful about that.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Well, brother,” Jonathan said, “I just wanted to get a look at you and see if I could figure out just what the fuck you think yer doin’.”
“Nothing,” I grumbled. “I’m not doing anything.”
“Bullshit.” He lit his cigarette though I doubted he’d forgotten how much I hated people smoking in my apartment. He did at least eye me with a bit of a grin and then motion to the balcony.
I followed him out and leaned against the rails. He handed me a pack of Marlboros and his lighter, and we both proceeded to smoke the cigarettes most of the way down before Jonathan finally spoke.
