by Wendy Rosnau
Chapter 14
Elena was anxious. The weather had put their flight behind schedule, renting a car at the airport had taken longer than it should have, and the roads were slippery.
When she saw the turnoff where she’d been picked up while hitchhiking the night before, she quickly pointed. “There. Turn up there.”
“Elena,” Frank said, “I think you we should talk about this plan. We don’t know if Vincent is inside Dante Armanno.”
“I know he’s there,” Elena argued. “We can’t reach anyone at Joey’s penthouse, and you said Hank Mallory told you Jackson’s been unreachable, too. Something’s terribly wrong, Frank.”
“All the more reason for you to stay in the car and let me go in alone.”
Elena ignored Frank’s ridiculous idea. She hadn’t flown back to Chicago to sit in the car. “I know that Vincent D’Lano and that ugly bulldog, Tony, are at the estate. There are no guards at the gate, and the parapet on the roof is empty. There are always four guards there, day and night.”
She had told Frank about Vincent D’Lano being the one who’d beaten Grace. They’d been discussing her mother’s health, then the conversation had shifted to truth and honesty. At that moment, Elena knew Frank deserved to know the truth about the past. After that, she had poured out everything. All she had learned about Vincent D’Lano, and then all she’d experienced in the past week. Including how she felt about his son.
Before she’d finished, Frank was making plans to return to Chicago.
Elena glanced at Frank as he steered the rented SUV onto River Road. He wore a black leather coat and a stocking cap that could be pulled down and turned into a ski mask on a second’s notice.
They parked not far from a silver Lexus. “Whose car do you think that is?” she asked, exiting the SUV. Like Frank, Elena wore black—a sweater and pants, and tall boots to her knees. Her dark hair was stuffed beneath a rolled-up ski mask identical to Frank’s.
“I don’t know. So where is this tunnel entrance you told me about?”
Elena led Frank through the knee-deep snow into the woods. The brush-and-snow-covered tunnel entrance would have been easy to miss if it hadn’t been for the piece of blue cloth Elena had tied to a tree next to the opening the night she’d slipped out and gone to Vincent’s house.
“Here,” she said, grabbing the brush and pulling it away from the entrance. “You’ll need to duck your head for the first ten feet. You’ll be able to stand up straight after that.”
She was about to go when Frank grabbed her arm. “I want you back in the car, Elena. Nothing can happen to you.”
“And nothing will, Frank. We’re wasting time. Are you leading or following?” She pulled out her flashlight.
He gave her a stern look, then pulled out his own flashlight. Crouching low, he entered the tunnel, saying, “You do exactly what I say. Capiche?”
Three-quarters of the way along the tunnel, they heard voices. Frank stopped and motioned for Elena to hang back. He pulled a gun from his pocket, then crept forward.
Of course Elena had no intention of being left behind. She let Frank get a good ten feet ahead if her, then resumed following him, keeping her distance and being as quiet as possible.
Frank rounded a bend and Elena lost sight of him. A moment later she heard a groan, then a thud. She clicked off her flashlight and pressed close to the wall. Adrenaline pumping, she stood in the dark for several minutes before she started inching toward the bend in the tunnel.
Please, Frank, she prayed, please be all right.
She rounded the corner at the same time she turned on her flashlight. She froze at the sight of Frank sprawled on his side, his gun and flashlight on the packed dirt floor. A woman was standing over him with a large stick.
“Oh, God!” Elena gasped.
Summ, cloaked in a dark green wool shawl, turned around. “Musume, is that you?”
“Yes.” Elena came forward quickly dropping to her knees at Frank’s side.
“I knocked him out,” Summ said. “I mistake him for enemy.”
Elena checked Frank’s pulse and found it strong. But Summ was right, she’d knocked him out, and he didn’t look as though he’d be coming around anytime soon.
“Oh, no! Frank!”
Elena looked up to see Rhea, with Nicci in her arms, hurrying toward them. “He’s all right,” she assured her friend. “Or he will be once he wakes up and gets rid of his headache. What are you doing down here?”
“We’re waiting for a signal,” Summ answered.
“A signal?”
“We think Vincent D’Lano kidnapped Jackson and that he’s trading him to Lucky for Dante Armanno,” Rhea explained.
A glamorous black-haired woman, cloaked in a red cape, came forward. “You must be Elena.”
“And you must be Jackson’s fiancée, Sunni.”
She nodded. “I would rather have met under different circumstances, but…”
Elena stood, reached out and touched Sunni’s arm. “Don’t worry. Lucky won’t let anything happen to Jackson.” She glanced back at Rhea, then to Nicci. Seeing Nicci’s eyes wide with uncertainty, she reached for him. “Hi, sweetheart. How’s my handsome man?”
Niccolo hugged her tight. “Lannie, know what? I have a daddy.”
“Yes, I know, honey.” Her gaze found Rhea. “So tell me how long Vincent D’Lano has been in the house and who owns the Lexus out on the road?”
“I want to see this tunnel. We have been patient long enough.”
Vincent glanced at the Colombian who’d spoken to him. He was a tall man about Lucky’s size with a thick black beard and mustache. “All right. I’ll show you the tunnel. Then you can see for yourself why I’m the perfect partner for your operation.”
“We’ll be the judge of that,” the shorter Colombian replied.
Lucky’s gaze shifted to Vina. She should never have been brought into this, he thought. Vinnie D’Lano had made a serious mistake when he’d touched Jackson’s mama, just as he had when he’d hit Elena and scarred her cheek. He stared down at Jackson where he lay unconscious on the floor. Yes, tonight there would be bloodshed, but not just his own. Vinnie had crossed the line for the last time.
Vincent motioned to a guard, then to Tony Roelo and Moody. “You three stay here with Kendler and the others.” He motioned to the other four guards. “You come with me. Bring Lucky and Joey. If we’re not back in thirty minutes—” he glanced at Tony “—kill the old woman and the cop.”
Lucky led the party up the stairs to the master bedroom. Once inside, he followed the stairway. On the way to the bathroom, he flipped a switch and the passageway leading to the tunnel opened.
“See what I told you?” Vincent said smugly. “I came this way with Carlo once. Wait till you see the rest of it. This place is a drug dealer’s dream come true. We can filter the—”
“Shudup,” the big Colombian said, as both men moved past Vincent and Lucky into the passageway. All business, they followed the stairway seemingly impressed, but still determined to check out the facility. Lucky and Joey followed, with Vinnie and his guards bringing up the rear.
The Colombians walked past the four-wheel trackster, glanced around, then started to follow the tunnel. Lucky watched as Vincent, puffed up like a peacock said, “The tunnel is fourteen feet wide, ten feet high and half a mile long,” he called after them. “I’ve done my homework, boys. We can move the stash in and out nine months of the year. We’ll be the number-one supplier in the Midwest.”
The big Colombian looked over his shoulder at Lucky, then Vincent. “If it ends up where you said it does, we have a deal, D’Lano.”
Lucky said nothing, and while two of the guards remained behind with Vincent, the other two followed the Colombians deeper into the tunnel.
Vincent lit a cigar, grinning ear to ear. “Tie Joey to that post over there.” He motioned to one of his guards and the man snapped to, tying Joey to the support post with a rope around his chest and one around h
is thighs.
Blowing smoke, Vincent sauntered over to Joey. “You shouldn’t have cheated on Sophia, you son of a bitch. You should have respected our deal. I cared for you like a son, Joey, and you repaid me by insulting me and dishonoring my daughter.” He motioned to the guard, and with lightning quickness, the man threw a powerful punch into Joey’s stomach.
Angry, Lucky started to advance on the guard, but before he could reach him, the guard behind him drove the butt of his gun into his bleeding arm.
Caught off guard, Lucky hesitated a second before he turned, giving the guard time to raise the gun butt again. Only, this time he drove it into Lucky’s lower back.
Lucky doubled over as the pain split in two directions. The horror that his legs would give out now sent a surge of panic through him. Another swift blow sent him to the floor. Then the guard was dragging him to a second support post and wrapping a rope around his chest to secure him where he sat dazed, blood soaking his shirt and jacket.
Vincent sauntered forward. “I almost forgot about your aching back. It looks like Nine-Lives Lucky has run out of lives.” Laughing, he kicked Lucky in the ribs. “Unless you want your brother diced into tiny pieces, my hard-nosed friend, you will sign Dante Armanno over to me within the hour. And you’ll tell me where you’ve hidden Elena Tandi, too. Moody has his heart set on marrying her, but I fancy her myself. What do you think Vito would say if he knew I was going to keep his lovely daughter as a trophy bride in memory of him? How do you feel about it, Lucky?”
Lucky tested the rope binding him by shifting his body against the support post. How did he feel? He felt like hell at the moment, but he also felt relieved that Elena was three thousand miles away at a secure location he would take to his grave if need be.
He glanced at Joey, who was now bleeding from his mouth and his nose as the guard slowly worked him over a punch at a time. Lucky said, “I told you I would turn over Dante Armanno to you, Vinnie. Now stop taking Joey apart.”
“You have no bargaining power, Lucky. I’ve won. You must realize that. So where is Elena Tandi? Tell me or I’ll cut your brother’s fingers off one at a time. And then I’ll start on his other appendages. Capiche?”
Elena left the study with the German shepherd named Mac at her side and Summ at her back. She’d wanted to go alone, but the housekeeper had adamantly refused to allow it.
Quietly they moved down the hallway past the shadow boxes. Suddenly Summ, with Chansu riding her shoulder, reached out and tapped Elena’s shoulder. When Elena turned, the housekeeper put a finger to her lips and motioned to the box that held two large Asian swords.
Elena nodded, and Summ eased the door on the case open and handed one of the three-foot swords to her. Elena grasped the heavy sword in both hands. Summ retrieved the second sword, then they proceeded down the hallway toward the living room.
They had just passed the stairway, moving toward the giant floor clock outside the living-room door, when suddenly Mac trotted to the clock and began to sniff it agitatedly.
Afraid he would bark and they would be discovered, Elena pulled the dog away from the clock, but he stubbornly turned back. Again she attempted to pull him away, but the big dog was as strong as he was determined.
Suddenly the wooden face of the clock began to open, and as Elena covered her mouth to stifle a gasp, Benito Palone stepped out.
Elena breathed a sigh of relief when she saw him, but Palone’s reaction was the opposite. He narrowed his eyes at her, then at Summ. Finally he shook his head and gestured for them to turn around and return to the study.
Elena cloned his head movement, then raised her chin and whispered, “Where is everyone?”
He pointed to the living room. “A few are in there. Lucky and his brother are in the tunnel with D’Lano and the Colombians. My instructions are to neutralize the living room—” he checked his watch “—in six minutes.”
“Neutralize?”
“You will stay here,” he instructed.
“No,” Elena whispered. “We’ll be your backup.”
At first it appeared he was going to argue with her, but finally he motioned for them to get behind him and follow.
Outside the living room, they heard voices. Elena strained to hear, and she recognized Moody Trafano’s arrogant drawl, as well as the gruff tones of the bulldog. Summ tapped Elena on the shoulder, then tugged on Benito’s arm. When she motioned to Chansu and flapped her hand, both Benito and Elena understood. She was suggesting they send the parrot into the room as a distraction.
Benito must have liked the idea, because he nodded and smiled at Summ.
Seconds later, as expected, Chansu’s arrival in the living room was both unexpected and unwelcome. Especially when he let out a squawk and swooped down on Moody Trafano’s head before nearly taking Tony Roelo’s ear off with his beak. He landed on the back of a leather chair while they were still yelling.
“What the hell is that?” the guard asked.
“A damn bird,” Moody answered.
“Gwaak! Shoot the moron. Gwaak!”
“He talks.” Tony sounded amused. “He called you a moron.”
“Maybe he was talking to you,” Moody snapped.
The guard said, “Ten to one I can pick him off the back of that chair with one shot.”
Worried about Chansu, Elena held up three fingers, then said, “On the count of three we rush ’em.” She looked at Benito. “You take the guard, I want Tony Roelo. Summ, you take out the guy on crutches.”
That said, Elena shoved Benito Palone into the room and the rush was under way.
For a big man, Benito moved swiftly, toppling the guard before he could fire his gun at Chansu. They went crashing into the table in front of the couch where Henry Kendler sat clutching his briefcase.
Summ made a wild cry as she raced past Lavina Ward and Jackson. Two swipes with her sword and she’d hacked both of Moody’s crutches in half. He went down hard, screaming about his knee.
Tony Roelo was standing next to the window, and he turned before Elena reached him. Seeing her, he had the audacity to grin. He slid a hand into his pocket, pulled out a gun and aimed it at her. “I can’t kill you, because the boss is interested in you. But I can wound you. And I have no problem shooting a woman. What do you say, bitch?”
“I say shoot,” Elena challenged, raising the sword to prove her intent.
Tony laughed, then aimed the gun at Elena’s right thigh, but not before she swung the sword with both hands, then let it go. The ancient weapon made a whistling noise as it whirled twice in the air before hitting Vincent’s driver in the chest. Tony grunted in pain, a red stain surfacing quickly on his broad chest. He dropped to his knees almost in slow motion, his face raw with shock.
“You were a part of my mother’s nightmare twenty-four years ago, you sick monster,” Elena spat. “Now I’m a part of yours.”
The gun dropped from Tony’s hand, and like Moody’s .38, the gun’s hair trigger discharged. The bullet whizzed past Elena and as Tony sank to the floor clutching his chest, she turned to see Benito hobbling toward her, gripping his thigh. His hand was covered in blood, and she realized then that the stray bullet from Tony’s gun had missed her, but not Benito.
“Oh, God!” She rushed to him, aware that the room was quiet and that the guard and Moody Trafano were no longer a threat to them. Kneeling down, she examined Benito’s wound, calling out, “Summ, are you all right?”
“Yes, musume. You?”
“Yes, but Benito’s been shot.”
“It’s just a scratch,” he said. “Don’t worry about me.”
“You’re losing a lot of blood. Sit down.” Elena pushed him onto the couch where Henry Kendler still sat frozen with fear. “Slide over, Henry,” she instructed.
As the lawyer made room for Benito, he said, “That was amazing, Miss Tandi, the way you threw that sword. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite like it. Not even on TV. You were…”
Ignoring the lawyer’s
babbling, Elena grabbed his hand and pressed it on Benito’s bleeding thigh. “Keep pressure on it, Henry. I’m sure if you keep Lucky’s most valued bodyguard alive, there’ll be a bonus in it for you.”
While Mac licked Jackson’s face, Lavina Ward tried to shake him awake. Elena said, “Summ, call Hank Mallory and tell him to come quickly. Then get everyone into the tunnel with Rhea and Sunni until he gets here.”
“What about you, musume?”
“I’m going to find Lucky.” She located Tony Roelo’s gun, then headed for the door.
“No. You can’t go alone,” Benito said.
Elena ignored the bodyguard’s protest. She had to find Lucky. She needed to see that he was all right. When she reached the stairs, she took them two at a time and entered the master bedroom. Gun in hand, she crept down the stairs, watchful for anything out of the ordinary. She passed the bathroom and found the hidden passage that led to the tunnel. Stepping inside, she pulled her ski mask over her face, then reached up and unscrewed the lightbulb overhead, darkening the stairway.
She felt her way down the stairs one step at a time, reaching the bottom without incident. On hearing voices, she strained to hear, aching to catch Lucky’s deep baritone. But all she could make out was Vincent’s nauseating laughter and someone’s painful moaning.
Biting her lip, Elena moved soundlessly along the wall, determined not to let her imagination run away with her. Lucky was there, and if he was the one doing the moaning, it meant he was alive. And that was good.
She was about to step away from the wall and into the middle of the mayhem when someone behind her reached out and grabbed her arm. Gasping in surprise, she spun around in the dark as the gun was wrenched from her fingers.
“We have a deal, Vinnie. Send a guard up to get Kendler down here.” As Lucky spoke, he glanced at his watch. Benito should be entering the living room about now. He was anxious to get that bloodthirsty guard away from Joey.
“That’s not all I want, remember? Elena Tandi. Where is she, Lucky? Where is my future bride hiding?” Vincent pointed to the idle guard who’d been enjoying watching his companion work over Joey. “Go get the lawyer, Zeke. And make sure he brings his briefcase with him.” To the other guard, he said, “Take a break, Charlie.”
