Spy Catcher: The J.J. McCall Novels (Books 1-3) (The FBI Espionage Series)

by Skye, S. D.

  J.J.’s face turned warm and flush, while Six belted out a deep cough.

  Tony continued, “I put my money where my mouth is. So it doesn’t matter whether or not I happen to look at friggin’ peanut brittle or a friggin’ KitKat or a friggin’ bag of Skittles!”

  She snapped her head toward him with glossy eyes. “It matters to the Hershey Bar!” J.J. said. “And if you can’t keep your lips off the peanut brittle, the Hershey bar will find a buyer who will respect its feelings.”

  “You mean the one in the back seat?” Tony snapped.

  “I mean one that prefers Hershey Bars over peanut brittle,” she growled.

  “You gotta be kiddin’ me,” Tony said, turning onto Irving Street. He pulled the car to an empty space by the curb so they could finish before he reached the front of the house. “You’re blowin’ this completely out of proportion. Turning a molehill into a mountain the size of Mt. Vesuvius. We gotta be adult here because there is no way I can stay away from the peanut brittle. Whadaya want me to do? Quit going to the store?”

  J.J. got quiet. Truth was, he was right. They’d be forced into each other’s presence until they wrapped up the cases. She had to trust him…or let him go. There was no two ways about it—and one difficult choice.

  “You gotta trust me. And we have nothing without trust. You think you could try that?”

  She wanted to, but he had no clue about her level of insight into his mind; she believed he’d allowed his feelings for her to take a backseat to lust. God knows she didn’t want to know. She wanted to live in blissful ignorance and believe he only had eyes for her. But she couldn’t shake the memory of the crawling sensation that permeated through her entire being when she asked about his feelings for Gia. Or the smirk on Gia’s smug face when she shared news of their kiss. Perhaps he was lying to himself, but he was certainly lying to J.J. The man she once trusted with all her might had failed her at the worst time, and in the worst way. Because no matter how hard she tried, she could never be Sicilian. She could never be Gia.

  “Well?” he asked.

  “We should get inside. Dad’s waiting. Maybe we can finish this up later.”

  “Maybe,” he said, reaching out for her hand.

  She pulled it back and craned her neck around the left and right to scan the street. “Malcolm’s car is here…for a change.”

  “Still on daddy duty,” Six said.

  She and Six made their ways to the sidewalk and waited for Tony lock up the car. Before she could turn to head up the stairs, she glimpsed a flash of movement in the corner of her eye. She glanced across the street and saw a bony dark-haired woman standing just off the curb in front of Mr. O’Leary’s. The woman just stared, her eyes eerily stone and cold. She looked vaguely familiar, but J.J. couldn’t immediately place her face. And something, besides Tony’s behavior, didn’t feel right.

  J.J. took careful steps to the end of the curb as Tony stepped by her side. He followed J.J.’s gaze toward the woman and froze.

  He grabbed J.J.’s arm to hold her back and whispered, “It’s Lana.”

  In a rabbit quick movement, J.J. gripped the holstered Glock resting in the small of her back, snatched it out and aimed the front sight directly at Lana’s head. The scene felt familiar. A little more than a week before she’d been in the same position, a gun pointed at Jake’s head, only Lana eventually got away. This time would be different. This time J.J. was stone cold sober. This time her hand was steady and her finger was tight to the trigger. “Feels like déjà vu all over again. You better hold your breath because if you so much as sneeze, I will blow a crater right between your eyes.”

  Chapter 59

  Late Sunday Morning—Irving Street

  Santino had to admit that Katherine’s plan was a good one—to stash his car along the route. He was gone before the Feds had a clue. Sunk deep in his thoughts, Santino glanced out of Lana’s bedroom window as he waited for his target to arrive, some broad.

  What did he care as long as he could take care of business?

  Ice water ran through his veins as he anticipated the deed. For him, it was no big deal, no different than any other hit, except this time he neither knew the identity of nor gave a shit about his intended victim. In the flash of a second, he could pay off his debt and go back home where he belonged.

  He’d packed his bags and stashed them in the trunk of his car which was parked a quick jog away on an adjacent street accessible through the back alley. He decided to use part of the cash he would pocket to buy a cheap hooptie so he could ditch the ‘Stang. The guys in his crew would give him all the alibis he needed, so he could just lay low in Jersey until the heat died down.

  He grabbed his sleek, black Winchester rifle and attached the extended silencer to the silver barrel so it would fire whisper quiet. By the time anyone figured out shots had been fired and where they’d come from, he’d be out the back door and half way out of town. With no witnesses except for Lana, he could get away clean, wouldn’t even be a suspect.

  “You about ready?” Lana’s voice called from the doorway. “I can’t believe the day has finally come.”

  He spun around; his eyes met hers. “Me either. I’m ready get to back to Jersey. But to tell you the truth, I’ll miss being here, you know, with you.” He’d rendezvous with Lana overseas when she got settled. He couldn’t believe his feelings for her had grown so intense in such a short period. But for the first time in a long while, he trusted a woman. She followed through on her word, did everything she said she was gonna do. In his world, women like that were hard to come by.

  As she walked to him, he leaned his gun against the wall. She wrapped both arms around his waist and held him so tight he thought he’d lose his breath. Then she pulled back and looked up at him through a tearful gaze. “After what happened to my husband, I never believed I’d feel this way again,” she said. “After what we’ve shared, my life…it will never be the same.”

  “I don’t want to let you go,” he said. “Maybe you could come with me to Jersey.”

  She shook her head no. “As much as I’d like to, I can’t. I miss home…I miss my father. I cannot feel whole so far away from my country, and I’ll never have peace here. No, I have to leave. But you can visit me often and stay as long as you like. You’ll love it there.”

  He nodded and smiled. “I unda’stand. And you better believe I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “Good,” she replied. “Now, where’s the car parked?”

  “On Kenyon Street. Bags are loaded and we’re ready to go.”

  She let out a long sigh of relief. “You know I wondered if you’d come through for me. I know I can trust you with my life,” she said, then quickly shifted to business. “Now, when they arrive, I want you to wait for my signal. I’ll raise my hand; that’s when you shoot them.”

  “Them? I thought you wanted me to hit some broad,” he said.

  “I found out the man involved in my husband’s death will be with her. I want them both gone.” She looked at him curiously. “What does it matter to you? It’s just a second bullet.”

  He shrugged. “You’re right. Makes me no nevermind. As long as I get my money, it’s all good. Where’s the cash anyway?”

  She pointed out the knapsack she’d tossed on the floor.

  He stroked her hair down to the small of her back and then cupped her face in his hands before planting the softest of kisses. He wanted nothing more than to stand there and linger in her gaze, her lips, her grip, forever. But too soon, duty would call.

  Their heads snapped toward the window when the sound of a car engine drew closer. Santino released Lana and glanced outside; he recognized the car as Tony’s and turned to Lana. “No, that’s not the car. Maybe they’re running late.”

  “No, she’s never late,” Lana said, stepping up behind him. “What do you mean? That’s the car. They’re here. Get ready.”

  “That’s the car?” Santino said, his voice raising in pitch. “Looks like
there're two dudes in the car. You want me to shoot the black, right?”

  “No, the white one who’s driving. And make sure you kill him first. I want her to see his dead body before she dies. And I want her soul to rot in hell knowing I’m responsible.”

  The blood drained from Santino’s face. Tony was the son of a made man, a boss. But he was also the same cocksucker who everyone believed had sold out his family. Still he had second thoughts. Nicky Mumbles knew where he’d been stayin’. Nicky might put two and two together, but then again he might not care as long as he got his money. “Wait,” Santino said, “you mean that guy…the one right there. Dark hair, black leather jacket.”

  “Are you a fucking moron? Yeah, that guy right there!” Her eyes narrowed and through clenched teeth she hissed, “If you don’t kill them, I will hunt them down like rabid dogs! And you will regret this pathetic betrayal for the rest of your life!”

  Santino stiffened. Her words went from sugar to shanks. He’d warned her to watch her tone. Apparently, she still hadn’t gotten the hint.

  “What the fuck did you say to me?!” Santino snapped. In their time together, he’d never seen her go quite this far off the bitch cliff and he’d prefer never to see it again. “Threaten me and you’ll be snacking on your fucking teeth for dinner, you cunt,” Santino snapped.

  “It’s not a threat,” she said in a softer tone. She glanced down at the rifle and back up again, expression softened, her voice calmed. “As long as you pull that trigger like I’m paying you to do, I’ll call you whatever you want. I don’t want to fight you.”

  Santino looked down at the knapsack and nodded. “Okay.” He shrugged and then threw his hands up with open palms of capitulation facing her. “Whatever you say. It’s your show.”

  “Thank you, my darling.” She flashed a tentative smile and kissed his expressionless face. “Just give me a couple of minutes. I’ve got something to say to her. When I raise my hand, you fire.”

  “Got it,” he said. “You raise your hand, I’ll fire.” A reluctant grin sliced through his lips and he nodded once more.

  As she descended down the steps and headed outside, Santino cracked the window just wide enough to accommodate the barrel. His mind churned over her words and his conversation with Tony. Blood might be thicker than water, but without the money, blood was of no consequence because he was dead. No, he couldn’t leave without the money. He could take the shot, or he could get shot. There were no other choices.

  He grabbed the knapsack, unzipped the main compartment, and counted out 20 stacks of $100 bills. It was all there. He’d been paid. Now, there was only one thing left to do.

  He moved back into position, lifting the rifle and preparing to aim.

  Katherine was there, standing between two cars on the near side of the street. After an angry exchange, she took off her jacket. Everyone went silent. He positioned the butt against this shoulder and aimed the barrel through the crack. He locked his eyes on Tony, who after scanning the street, looked toward Santino.

  Tony’s mouth fell open, as if he was ready to yell. The black broad scanned the street and found Santino’s window. She aimed her gun directly at Santino…before Tony saw her and forced his body in front of her. Santino’s stomach tightened. He couldn’t believe what Tony did.

  Then the old man from across the street ran out.

  Santino peered through the sight, pressed his finger against the trigger, and fired—twice.

  Two silenced shots; his target was struck.

  He’d done what he needed to do.

  He dismantled the rifle with a soldier’s speed, preparing for his escape before the police arrived. With the woman’s screams and bodies sprawled on the ground, someone would call the police soon.

  He returned his rifle to the case and quickly searched her dresser. He needed to ensure no evidence had been left behind before running out the back door. One after the other, he pulled the drawers open and shut.

  Nothing.

  He was almost out the bedroom door before he had the second thought to check the closet. The space was empty with the exception of a few hangers. He ran his hand along the top shelf and his fingers were stopped by a small stack of papers. He pulled them down and gasped.

  “That fucking cunt!”

  The stack contained page after page of background information about him, several news articles covering Rosa’s accident and the suspicion surrounding Cappi Merendino’s death, his home address and those of the other guys in his crew, everything the cops would need to find him, right there on her closet shelf. She’d been playing him like a fuckin’ violin in a string quartet all along. He stuffed the papers in the knapsack and dashed out the bedroom. As he started down the stairs to head out the back door, he was stopped by an unexpected presence.

  Santino’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve got some fucking nerve showing up here!”

  Chapter 60

  Sunday – Irving Street

  J.J. stared down the barrel of her gun, waiting for Lana to make the move that would end her life.

  “Gimme a break. Your aim was never that good,” Lana scoffed. “Besides, I’m not armed.” Lana took off her jacket and let it fall to the ground. She lifted her shirt to expose her waist and spun around. She pulled her pant legs toward the knee and exposing her bare foreleg. Then she approached the middle of the street palms out.

  “Oh, don’t worry about that! We keep a .45 in the car,” J.J. said, mockingly. “If you force me pull this trigger, trust me, you’ll be armed by the time the police get here whether you brought it or not.”

  Although it was clear Lana had no weapons, J.J. still felt uneasy, as if they were standing in a trap.

  She suddenly remembered Cartwright’s letter and Lana’s words—“American arrogance astonishes me. So smug that you cannot see the thief who waves hello with one hand while picking your pocket with the other.”

  J.J. felt her pocket being picked.

  She scanned the street left and right, up and down. Rooftops and open windows. She saw nothing out of the ordinary. “Six, check the cars. I’m not getting the warm and fuzzies here.”

  He nodded and proceeded to jog down the sidewalk, closely eyeing the passenger-side windows up and down the block.

  “What the fuck are you doing here? What do you want?” J.J. asked, her eyes darting around the area looking for any unusual movement. There was nothing. The street was still.

  “I’m tired of running,” Lana said, her voice cracking with manufactured emotion. “I’m gonna turn myself in, but first I have a question I need to ask you.”

  Tony and J.J. looked at each other skeptically before the crotch itch struck. The piercing sting caused her legs to buckle for a moment, but she quickly recovered.

  It was clear Lana was lying. J.J. didn’t know if she had some sadistic plan or accomplices hunkering nearby, but a lie could mean nothing but trouble. J.J. lowered her aim from Lana’s head to her chest so Lana would think she believed her. “What is it?”

  “Do you remember Jake? Does the vision of him lying in his own blood haunt you at night?”

  A rush of emotion shook her. God knows she’d been haunted every day and every night. The mere thought caused her mouth to water for Belvedere. Not a single day had passed that she didn’t want to forgo her newfound sobriety to wash the pain away. “He was my friend. I didn’t want to kill him. He gave me no choice.”

  “Oh, you had a choice. You just chose to save your precious Tony. With friends like you, who needs friends?”

  Six ran up beside J.J. and flanked her on the side opposite Tony.

  “All’s clear,” he said, slightly out of breath.

  “Will you get the fuck on with it, Lana?” Tony barked. “We’ve got some place to be.”

  Lana’s voice trembled as she started to cry, stunning J.J. into silence. She didn’t know witches cried. “You robbed me of everything, my future, my life. It’s over,” she swiped her sleeve over her eye and clenched her teeth. “An
d now I’m going to return the favor. Take a look at your precious Tony,” she said, an evil grin slicing her lips. “This is the last time you’ll ever see him alive!”

  She slowly raised her hand in the air, sending J.J. into a wave of confusion. Her eyes darted door to door, window to window, searching the area.

  Then she saw it.

  The blinds moved in the upstairs room of Mr. O’Leary’s house. When the glimmer of the barrel protruded from the window, her eyes widened. She pointed her gun to the window and glanced at Lana, whose eyes widened to the size of milk saucers.

  “What’s going on here?!” Max’s voice called from behind her.

  J.J. turned to look over her shoulder and saw him walking toward the steps. “Dad get in the house…now!” she yelled.

  She turned back to the window and aimed once again before Tony looked at her with a panicked expression and screamed “Get down!” as he threw his body in front of J.J.’s.

  Two barely audible shots sounded. Within seconds, her body collided against the ground under a heavy weight. A limp body.

  She got off one shot before her arm lost its aim.

  A second later, her head exploded. A sharp pain bolted into her temple like the fiery sting of a lightning strike.

  Her eyes lost the light and into darkness she fell.

  Chapter 61

  Sunday – Irving Street

  “Tony?” J.J. whispered, buried face down under the weight of the body covering her. She felt a stream of liquid drift from her forehead down the curve of her cheek. She had no idea whether he was still alive, sending a wave of panic through her entire being.

  He’d thrown his body in front of her, to protect her with the ultimate sacrifice—his life. He loved her in a way that no other man had, except perhaps her father and brother. He loved her.

  She huffed, gasping to draw air into her lungs. Everything happened so fast. Seconds passed in double time. Her heart raced as she attempted to push him off, but he was too heavy. “Tony? Six?” She grunted as she tried to shift under the leaded mass. Finally, a movement.