Heart Stealers

by Patricia McLinn

  “What are you thinking?” he asked her.

  She held his gaze. “Things you don’t want to hear.”

  He ran his knuckles over her cheek. “You know how much you mean to me.”

  “Mitch, what happens when we find Johnny?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Are you sticking around? For us both?”

  He drew back his hand. “I’ve ruined things between you two.”

  “No, you haven’t.”

  He stood, distancing her physically and emotionally. “Yes. In twenty minutes, I destroyed years of work you did with him.”

  “Are you saying you were wrong to ask him for help with the gang?”

  “No, I don’t think I had a choice. Too many young lives are at stake. But maybe somebody else could have handled it better. I feel as if I’ve ruined Johnny’s life.” After a pause, he finished, “Just like Tam’s.”

  Cassie felt herself go cold. “No, Mitch, the situation with Johnny has nothing to do with Tam. And you weren’t to blame for Tam, anyway. Cold-blooded killers murdered that young boy.”

  Mitch tossed back his head and closed his eyes. “It seems as if my actions with kids always end up causing them harm in some way. Sometimes I think I was right to keep to myself, not to get involved.” He looked directly at her then. “With anyone.”

  Panic skittered down her spine. “With me, too?”

  “Maybe.”

  Cassie stood and looked into his eyes. Raising her chin, she said, “I love you, Mitch. Can you just let me go, knowing that?”

  A muscle leaped in his jaw. He swallowed hard. After a moment, he pressed his fingers against her mouth. “Shh, no declarations now. No questions. Let’s just concentrate on getting Johnny back. We’ll decide what to do then.” He reached for her hand. “Come back to bed now.”

  She knew him so well, she thought as she placed her hand in his. The stubborn set of his chin. The tilt of his head. The bleakness in his beloved green eyes.

  Cassie had her answer, even if Mitch didn’t know he’d given it to her.

  * * *

  “Happy Birthday, Bro,” Zorro said, passing a joint to Johnny.

  Johnny took a long drag and let the drug anesthetize him. It was taking more and more these days to block out the memories, more and more to quell the doubts. He’d spent the week in a haze of alcohol and marijuana, and it still wasn’t enough to forget who he used to be. To forget the dreams he’d abandoned.

  “Thanks, Zor.”

  Johnny’s best friend stood and crossed to the battered bureau on the other side of the room. They’d crashed at Zorro’s place at four this morning and had just awakened in the late afternoon.

  A drawer creaked when Zorro opened it. From inside, he pulled out a package. “For you.”

  Ludicrously, Johnny noticed that it wasn’t wrapped. It was in a plain brown paper bag. Out of nowhere, a memory hit him....

  “Isn’t this a little frilly for me?” Johnny had asked Cassie after she’d handed him a brightly wrapped present on his last birthday.

  Cassie had laughed and ruffled his hair. “What a sexist statement for a liberated guy like you....”

  “Open it,” Zorro said.

  Viciously, Johnny banished the memory. Cassie was dead to him. They all were. From the bag, Johnny drew out his present.

  He stared at it, feeling a surge of panic so great his hand started to shake. His gut told him to drop it and run like hell. His mind reinforced what he knew to be true. They gonna use you, man....

  Zorro was watching him intently when Johnny looked up.

  “Like it?” Zorro asked.

  “I don’t carry a blade, Zorro. Why’d ya give this to me?”

  His friend sat down on a straight chair facing Johnny. “Time to make the tie, Tonto.”

  “The tie?”

  “Yeah. I been coddlin’ ya for months now. And this last week, I been lettin’ ya coast. But it’s time you prove you’re with us.”

  Johnny’s heart slammed into his rib cage. “How?”

  Zorro leaned back. “Well, I thought since this was your eighteenth birthday, that you oughtta ‘come of age,’ so to speak.” Black eyes narrowed on Johnny, losing all of their warmth. “We got some action on for tonight. At eleven. We gonna e-lim-i-nate one of our enemies. The way I figure it, you get to use this blade like you always wanted. You know, in your future. You gonna perform a little surgery.”

  “Who is it?”

  “A friend of yours, Tonto.”

  Johnny steeled himself. “Who?”

  “You gotta make a commitment, buddy. You wanna stay with us, you got to prove it. Tonight.”

  Johnny simply stared at him.

  “You one of us or not, Tonto? Tell me now.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Twelve.” Mitch curled his arm, pulling the barbell toward his body, expelling a heavy breath. With excruciating slowness, he lowered it, then dropped the weight to the floor. Sweat poured down his forehead and he wiped it with a towel. He winced and rubbed his shoulder.

  I’m great at back rubs. Let me give you one, then I’ll get out of here.

  Despite his black mood, he smiled at the memory of Cassie coming to comfort him the night she’d found out about Vietnam. She was such a treasure—defying him, forcing him to let her help him. How could he ever give her up when the time came? Did he have to? What would be best for Johnny? For Cassie? He thought about how he’d blown his relationship with Johnny. He thought of how he’d hurt Cassie with his need for rules, and her need for flexibility. She’d gone along with his plan to eliminate gang activity at Bayview, but she’d hated his method. Would they ever be able to compromise? The thoughts only added to his frustration, already too close to the explosion point.

  He looked around his exercise room. He’d come here at nine tonight when he’d finished work, instead of going directly to her house. Oh, he’d go to her. He wasn’t strong enough to resist her yet. But he had to rid himself of some of his rage before he saw her. She’d come to know him well. Too well. She’d see right away how desperate he was tonight.

  There was no sign of Johnny anywhere. Mitch had personally scoured all the known hangouts of the Blisters. He’d made every street contact in New York he could think of, and had coerced the city cops to do the same. He’d called in a hundred favors. But there was still no trace of the boy.

  The irony of his situation didn’t escape Mitch. Leaning back against the weight bench, he told himself once again that if he found the kid—no, when he found the kid—he should let Cassie go. That would be the unselfish thing to do. Johnny needed her more than Mitch did.

  Yeah, and if you believe that, I got a bridge to sell you.

  Flinging the towel aside, swearing vilely, he stood and kicked the gym bag he’d left on the floor. “All right,” he said aloud. “I need her as much as Johnny does.”

  Torn by the conflicting emotions, he jammed his hand through his hair. Cassie had said he wasn’t thinking straight because he felt guilty about Johnny going back to the gang. Was that true?

  Maybe, but it wasn’t just that. He should give her up. He should sacrifice his own need for the boy.

  Like a father would do for his son.

  Mitch closed his eyes, swamped by what he felt for both Johnny and Cassie.

  Then he heard the crash.

  Instantly, his cop’s instincts kicked in. His whole body tensed as he identified the noise and its location.

  A broken window. In the back of the house.

  Without making a sound, he reached down into the gym bag and fished out his nine-millimeter. Straightening, he picked his way to the door of the exercise room. He’d left no other lights on in the house, and the exercise room couldn’t be seen from the back door. Tiptoeing down the hall, he held his breath.

  He heard more sounds. Shuffling. Then a groan when the intruder knocked into something. His back to the wall, Mitch felt his way down the corridor and stopped just where it met the kit
chen. In the splash of moonlight, he could see a figure. Tall. Broad-shouldered. The collar of his jacket turned up.

  When the intruder reached the apex of the kitchen and hallway, Mitch sprang out. He knocked the guy to the floor and pinned his hands behind his back in seconds.

  “Mitch, it’s me. Johnny.”

  Stunned, Mitch let go of Johnny’s arms and eased off him. Just as Mitch set down his gun, he realized how stupid the move was. The kid had broken into his house. The kid hated him. The kid could do him harm. And now, Mitch was vulnerable to him—and to whomever Johnny had brought along. Remaining perfectly still, Mitch was sickened by the thought of Johnny planning to hurt him.

  Johnny righted himself and sat across from Mitch. “I had to see you.”

  “Why?”

  “Look, could we turn on some lights?”

  “Tell me first why you broke in.”

  “I didn’t think you were here. There weren’t any lights on in the back of the house. I was gonna wait for you.”

  Was this a trap?

  “You could have called me.”

  “There wasn’t time.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Geez, Mitch, turn some lights on so I can see you.”

  And do what?

  “Tell me why you’re here first.”

  “Okay. You gotta help me stop ‘em. The gang’s going after Pepper tonight. They’re gonna use him as an example.”

  “What are they going to do?”

  “Kill him.” Mitch could hear the strain in Johnny’s voice. He sounded very young. “They want me to kill him, Mitch, as proof that I’m really one of them.”

  Mitch’s heart leapfrogged in his chest. Slowly, he stood and switched on a lamp. It cast Johnny in a mellow light, but the glow didn’t soften the ravages of his face. His cheeks were sunken and he hadn’t shaved for days. His eyes were hollow.

  “Johnny...”

  The boy stood, too. “Look, I’m not going to do it. But they will. They’re gonna be there at eleven when Pepper closes the pool hall. I made some excuse about seeing my mother on my birthday and said I’d meet them there later.” He grabbed Mitch’s arm. “But I came here, instead. You gotta help me, Mitch. You gotta stop them from hurting anybody else.”

  Reaching out, Mitch grasped Johnny’s shoulders. “I will.” Impulsively, he pulled the boy into a bear hug. “Thank God you came to me.” Then he let Johnny go. “All right, tell me everything you know.”

  * * *

  The alley behind Pepper’s pool hall smelled like garbage day in New York City. It was dark, too, but thankfully the cold front had abated.

  Mitch had told the backup officers he’d called to park the black-and-whites out of sight and to meet him at the pool hall on foot. Pepper had been hurried out a side door, and the few patrons had left. Six officers surrounded the building by ten-thirty, and they were all in place.

  At exactly eleven o’clock, a car rolled to a stop at the end of the alley, its lights off. The driver left the engine running and six guys piled out. Mitch was huddled behind a protruding wall at the back entrance where Zorro had told Johnny to meet them. Two other officers hid behind the trash cans across from Mitch. Three more were around the corner.

  The gang members strode down the alley. Mitch could barely make out the red on the front of their jackets. Just before they reached the door, Mitch and three officers stepped out from their hiding places, guns cocked, arms out straight in firing position. “Stop where you are,” Mitch said loud and clear. “This is the police.”

  Pandemonium broke out. The last three gang members turned and ran. Two of the others dived toward the officers behind the trash cans. The first one lunged for Mitch. The maneuver of his attacker and the darkness unbalanced Mitch, and the gun flew from his hand. The punk plowed into him.

  Mitch was slammed back into the brick building. His head spun dizzily. On reflex, he raised his arm and grabbed the wrist of the attacker. He threw his weight forward. The man fell back. Then he tripped. Mitch didn’t let go. They fell to the ground together. Bone crunched on the gravel, but the attacker kept hold of Mitch. He was smaller but strong. And determined. Mitch parried a thrust of the guy’s knee. In doing so, he lost some of his advantage. It was enough to let the guy roll over. He pinned Mitch to the ground.

  On his back now, Mitch could only see a silhouette above him. Mitch’s grip loosened and the guy raised his arm. Mitch saw the blade gleam in the moonlight just before it came down at him. With one adrenaline-induced surge, Mitch thrust his whole body to the side. The guy fell forward. Mitch pounced on him and heard a heavy groan. The man went still.

  Behind him, Mitch heard a scuffle.

  He turned around in time to see another gang member come at him with a knife.

  A shot rang out and the world went black.

  * * *

  Cassie was startled out of a fitful sleep by a noise. When she heard it again, she realized the doorbell was ringing. She glanced at the clock over the television. It was 2:00 a.m. She’d fallen asleep on the couch waiting for Mitch to come to her tonight. Awake now, her heart picked up speed as she wondered why he was so late. She hurried to the door and pulled it open. On the porch was Johnny Battaglia. His messy hair, unshaven face and disheveled clothes registered briefly before he threw himself into her arms.

  “Oh, God, I’m so glad to see you,” she said, keeping the boy close.

  He held on tight for a minute. “You won’t be glad.”

  Tugging him inside, she didn’t let go of his arm. “Why wouldn’t I be?” She hugged him again. “I’ve been so worried about you.”

  He drew back. “Mitch is in trouble, Cassie.”

  “Mitch?”

  “Yeah. I got him into trouble.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Standing in the middle of the foyer, in halting and self-deprecating words, Johnny told her about the gang’s two-fold plan to kill Pepper and cement Johnny to them.

  Cassie squeezed his hand and summoned the strength she needed for him. “You did the right thing by going to Mitch, Johnny.”

  “Did I?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “I don’t know anymore.” He clutched at her arm. “Where is he now? I waited at his house for hours, like he told me to. I didn’t answer the phone, like he said. When it got so late, I tried to call the police station, but the guy at the desk wouldn’t tell me anything. Just that Mitch wasn’t there. So I came here.”

  The bleakness in Johnny’s eyes touched her heart. She quelled the panic that threatened to surge through her. “He’ll be fine, Johnny. He’s a good cop. He can take care of himself.”

  “Zorro hates him,” Johnny said distractedly. “And you. He’ll go after Mitch. I know he will. I shouldn’t have asked Mitch for help.”

  Cassie drew in a deep breath. “Come into the living room. We’ll wait here together. Everything will be all right.”

  She hoped her voice was calm. Although she meant what she told Johnny about Mitch’s skill, the thought of him being involved in a gang fight chilled her. For an hour, she sat with Johnny, holding his hand, reassuring him and praying.

  At 3:00 a.m. the bell rang again. Cassie dashed to the foyer, but Johnny hung back in the living room. She threw open the door—and once again, Mitch stood on the porch.

  Mitch groaned as Cassie flung herself at him and pain lanced from his shoulder through his entire body. She drew back, her eyes dropping to his shoulder, which was confined in a tight-fitting sling. “Oh, my God, you’re hurt.”

  “I’m all right.”

  “You’re in pain.” She stepped back. “Come on in.”

  He came fully into the foyer and studied her. Her hair was half in a braid and half out. Her face was pale and drawn. Her clothes were wrinkled. But she’d never looked better to him. Without a word, he held out his good arm to her. She came back to him gingerly. He circled her neck with his hand.

  Though he saw Johnny hovering in the living room, he
tugged Cassie close for a minute. He’d had a flash of insight in the moments before he was stabbed—something to do with grabbing onto any happiness you can and making the most of the time you have in this life. In her ear, he whispered, “I love you.”

  Her body trembled and he knew she was crying. He held her tightly against the uninjured half of his chest, relishing the feel of her, needing her to know he’d never let her go now, no matter what.

  When she pulled back slightly, her watery eyes returned the declaration before she whispered, “I love you, too.”

  “Everything’s going to be fine now. I’m alive and I’m not leaving you. Ever.”

  “Thank God.” It took a few moments for her to regain her composure. But, just as always, she pulled it together and smiled at him. Then she turned to look at Johnny.

  Mitch followed her gaze. Johnny stood alone next to the couch, his shoulders hunched, his posture stiff. The desolation on his youthful face made Mitch’s heart go out to him. Striding into the room, Mitch reached the boy and grasped his arm. “You did the right thing in the end, Johnny. Hang on to that when all this starts crashing down on you.”

  Johnny nodded. “I’m just glad you’re all right.”

  “I am.” He looked at Cassie. “Let’s sit down. I’m fine, but my shoulder hurts like hell, and I’m tired.”

  When they were seated, Cassie asked, “What happened?”

  Briefly, Mitch explained the chain of events in the alley behind Pepper’s.

  “What happened to your shoulder?” Johnny asked.

  “A knife wound. They treated it in Emergency.” He didn’t tell them he’d been brought in almost unconscious but had refused to stay in the hospital. He knew he had to see both Cassie and Johnny face-to-face to convince them he was all right.

  Biting her lip, Cassie seemed to struggle for control. “What happened to everyone else?”

  Mitch’s expression was somber. “Two of the officers have superficial knife wounds.”

  Cassie glanced at Johnny, then back to Mitch. “The Blisters?”

  “Most of them were arrested.”

  Johnny spoke up. “Most of them?”

  “Zorro was badly hurt.”

  Johnny blanched.