by Cheryl Yeko
He handed a file folder to Jake. “Once Slater’s girlfriend gave him up to the cops, Slater offered to share everything he knew about the drug operation if we’d show him some leniency. He’s still going to jail, but if what he says is true, maybe for only one life sentence instead of two.”
Jake really didn’t give a crap about Slater or his sentence. He gave the information Rick handed him a quick perusal, flipping through to scan the highlighted text.
When done, he closed the folder and met J.D.’s gaze. “The prick that tried to grab Nick is a little punk by the name of John Mallory, a Raptor gang member. We at least were able to get a search warrant for his home. Chicago P.D. should be executing it within the hour.”
J.D. nodded. “So were heading to Chicago.”
Rick scowled at them. “Hold up, Chicago’s out of our jurisdiction. You need to let the local police handle it.”
“Not good enough, Rick,” Jake said vehemently. “They won’t find the girls there and you know it. I’m going to Chicago to find the Raptor’s hangout and get them back, procedures be damned.”
“I’m right behind you, bro,” J.D. said, his voice edged with fury.
Jake gave his brother a curt nod before turning toward the door. “If anything useful turns up from the search, Rick, call me.”
“Just wait a goddamm minute!” Rick glared at them, then raked his fingers through his hair. “I’m coming with you.”
Sweat poured off Michael’s forehead from the implied threat behind the words from his Mafia connection.
“You need to get a handle on the situation, Hirschman. Sooner rather than later, and don’t leave any loose ends.”
“Don’t worry,” Michael lied. “I have everything under control.”
“We’ll be in touch.” The line went dead.
Michael dropped the cell phone on the desk and closed his eyes, taking a shaky breath. He knew when he’d gotten in bed with the Mafia he was taking a risk. But he’d been blinded by the siren call of easy money.
He’d used the local Raptor gang for years to move drugs and stolen goods within Illinois. When he’d been contacted by the Family to expand his operation to the surrounding states, he hadn’t hesitated. That decision could now cost him everything.
Now that Slater and his girlfriend were talking, he’d come under suspicion. Although, it was just the word of a murderer and his accomplice. He could handle that. No problem. But the fact that Angela could ID him as being a business associate of her husband was reason in itself to have her killed.
The offshore account in her name was a more serious issue. Michael had no illusion about the outcome if any transactions led back to him. He would be killed before he could plea bargain and offer up the handful of corrupt judges he’d bribed to issue court rulings in the Mafia’s favor.
So, he’d be truly fucked. If the Mafia didn’t take him out, the judges in their pockets would.
He needed to find out everything Angela Beebe knew, then destroy the evidence. All the evidence.
CHAPTER 14
Angela blanched as she studied Stacey’s pale, bruised face, then expelled a relieved breath as her color slowly returned. She placed her arms around her friend and hugged her close. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m okay. Stop hovering.” Stacey’s voice trembled.
“Are you really okay?” She sat back on her heels and touched Stacey’s face with the tip of her fingers. “How did you get here? Did they hurt you?”
The questions poured from her in a rush. Then she grimaced. Of course they’d hurt her. Stacey’s clothes were dirty and torn, her hair tangled into knots, as though someone had grabbed her by it and tossed her to the ground. Her face swollen, bruised, and covered in dried blood.
“I’m fine,” Stacey assured her. “What about you?”
“I’m okay. How did they get you?”
“After J.D. took me home-”
“You were with J.D.?”
A slight blush crept into Stacey’s cheeks. “We kinda had a date.”
“Really?” Angela reached out and smoothed Stacey’s hair from her face. She wanted to touch her, make sure she was okay. “You and J.D, huh?” she teased, returning Stacey’s smile with an equally shaky one of her own.
“Yeah.” Stacey chuckled softly. “Well, anyway, after J.D. dropped me off, I went inside and had a glass of wine and watched some news. I’d just gotten up to shut the TV off when two men burst into the room.” She shoved her wild hair off her face. “I tried to run, but one of them grabbed me and punched me in the face. That’s the last thing I remember until I woke up here.”
Angela frowned and her hand lightly brushed across the bruise on Stacey’s cheek. “They hit you.” Her voice shook and her entire body vibrated with anger.
Stacey nodded grimly. “I was in this room when I woke up. Eventually they came back with my cell phone. That’s when they called you.”
Angela remembered Stacey’s cries. “Did they hit you again?”
“Yes. I guess they wanted you to know they’d hurt me if you didn’t do as they said.”
Angela bit her bottom lip and glanced around the moonlit room. There was no way out, and nowhere to hide. “What do you think they want with us?”
“It’s not me they want, Angela. It’s you.”
The musical tinkling of Stacey’s bracelet sounded loudly in the room when she raised her hand to push her hair from her face. “They kept talking about offshore accounts you’d opened to move drug money. I don’t believe it for a minute, girlfriend.” She gave her another shaky smile, but Angela could see the truth of her words in her eyes. How had she gotten so fortunate to have a friend like Stacey?
Angela jumped to her feet as a thought struck her. What would they do with Stacey now that they had her? Adrenaline coursed through her body and her heartbeat sounded loudly in her ears. Would they let her go? A wave of nausea so strong she actually leaned forward rolled over her. She was about to be sick.
“Angela, are you okay?”
Angela took deep calming breaths until the nausea passed and glanced at her friend. They needed to escape. She rubbed her forehead and paced the length of the room.
“I don’t know anything about those accounts. I won’t be able to give them what they want.” Her voice trembled.
“There must be something, Angela. Didn’t Scott ever say anything at all about his business?”
“No. He never discussed it around me.” Angela racked her brain, looking for even the tiniest bit of information that someone might want from her.
“Well, they must think you know some–”
The sound of the door opening brought the conversation to an abrupt end. They both froze, their panic-filled eyes met for an endless moment, before their gazes slid to the door.
Angela tensed as the same two men who’d abducted her stepped inside.
“Hey, baby, miss me?” The guy with the tattoo symbols on his arm sauntered up to her. His gaze dropped down the length of her body and slowly back up, pausing at her breasts. He licked his lips and then lifted his eyes from her breasts to meet her gaze. An arrogant sneer covered his face.
Angela swallowed hard and clenched her hands at her sides to stop from striking him. A scream of fear clawed her throat at the thought of him touching her. “What . . . what do you want with us?”
The younger guy stalked toward Stacey where she sat on the floor, her arms wrapped around her knees, holding them tightly against her chest. Tears trickled down her face but her gaze held a look of defiance. She glared at him as he approached.
“Not us, Angela, just you.” The guy with the tattoo gave a curt nod in Stacey’s direction. “She’s expendable.”
Angela’s heart jumped. “Please, don’t hurt her. I’ll give you what you want. Just tell me what it is.” She would do anything to stop them from hurting Stacey.
Angela flinched when he reached out and stroked her cheek with a calloused hand. Bile rose up her throat and nearl
y choked her as his thumb rubbed across her bottom lip.
“Oh, you’ll give me what I want, all right,” he said with a dark laugh, before his hand fell back to his side. “But first, Snake wants to see you.”
Snake? Who the hell is Snake?
He took her arm in a rough hold and shoved her toward the door.
“Angela!” Stacey scrambled to her feet.
Angela struggled against him, trying to break free. “Stacey,” she cried.
As she was dragged out the door, the other gang member slapped Stacey, knocking her back to the floor. The sound of Stacey’s cry cut short when the door slammed behind them.
Jake slowed his SUV and made his way through the I-Pass lane, then picked up speed as they drew near Chicago.
“Head toward the South Side,” Rick said.
“Is that Raptor’s territory?” J.D. asked, smoothing a Chicago map open on his lap.
“Yeah.” Rick leaned forward from the back seat and pointed to an area on the far south side of Chicago. “When they tore down the housing projects on the north side of the city, the traditional gang areas were disrupted and they migrated south.”
They drove in a tense silence, Jake's mind filled with ugly scenarios of Angela being hurt. The images ran through his mind until his jaw ached from clenching his teeth and his throat burned with bile. It only took a glance at J.D. to see the same nightmare burning in his brother’s eyes.
“We’ll get them back, J.D.,” Jake promised.
Or die trying.
J.D. shot him a glance, his mouth tightened into a hard thin line. He gave a curt nod of agreement.
Rick’s cell phone rang, bringing him out of his dark musings. Rick cursed as he listened to the caller, then flipped the phone shut with a scowl.
“What?” J.D. snapped.
“They searched Mallory’s place.” Rick snorted. “Our big, bad drug dealer lives with his mother. But she hasn’t seen him in a week.”
Jake turned onto Chicago Avenue. His grip on the steering wheel tightened until his fingers ached. “They found nothing to help us locate their hangout?”
Time was running out fast. They needed to find the girls . . . if it wasn’t already too late. The memory of Angela’s passion-filled eyes flashed into his mind. Followed by the hurt shining from them the last time he saw her. His gut tightened into a knot of regret and self-recrimination.
“Maybe,” Rick said. “They found a scrap of paper with an address near Lincoln Park.”
“Let’s have it,” J.D. said. “I’ll plug it into the GPS.”
Rick rattled off the address as they entered the expressway. A little over half-an-hour later, they pulled in front of a yellow Neon sign with a black silhouette of a naked woman.
“A strip club,” Rick scoffed. “This ought to be interesting.”
Jake flung his door open and exited the SUV, turning to glance at Rick and J.D. who were already on the sidewalk. “Once we get inside, look for anyone with gang signs. And watch your backs.”
“Let’s do it,” Rick said. His brows drew together as he turned toward the door.
A group of young boys hung out just outside the club’s entrance. Too young to enter, but old enough to enjoy the occasional view of the strippers through an open door. Whispers of cops and Five-O could be heard as they passed them by.
A bouncer stepped from the shadows and into the bright neon light. Blocking the entrance. A muscle-bound black guy with bushy eyebrows and long dreadlocks glared at them. “Is there a problem, Officers?”
Jake frowned. Even in their civilian clothes, they’d been made as cops.
What, is it written on our fuckin’ foreheads?
“No problem.”
He took a step forward and met the punk’s icy gaze. If he had to fight his way inside, he would. “If you wouldn’t mind stepping aside.” It wasn’t a request.
No one moved as he had a stare-down with the bouncer. The tension level ratcheted up to critical, until the guy’s posture relaxed and he moved to the side.
Good choice.
They were greeted with the loud blare of music and a hazy cloud of smoke when they stepped inside. Not all of it from the cigars that many of the men held in their hands. The faint scent of marijuana drifted over them.
J.D. snorted. “Isn’t there a smoking ordinance in Chicago?”
“They must have missed the memo,” Rick said. He headed toward the pool table and the crowd around it.
Jake tilted his head toward the back of the bar and J.D. nodded in acknowledgement as he made his way to the group of men standing there.
Jake strode toward the stripper cages. His eyes narrowed on a young girl who gyrated inside one of the cages wearing nothing more than a g-string and a bleak stare. He was certain if he checked, she’d be underage. But he wasn’t here for that, although he’d follow up with a phone call to Dylan, Nate’s brother, who was with the Chicago PD.
A young, scantily clad waitress came up to him. “Can I get you something to drink, honey?” She batted thick false eyelashes.
Jake shook his head and brushed past her to walk around the perimeter of the cages. His eyes finally found their target.
A young gang member with a Raptor Tattoo on his neck stood near a stripper. Jake glanced around the lightly lit bar for J.D., then lifted his hand to wave him over.
He wanted to go to the gangbanger and beat the hell out of him until he gave up the Raptor’s location. Instead, he clenched his fists at his sides. He needed to maintain control. The guy would have to take a break sometime. The way he was downing his beer, it’d be sooner than later.
Rick and J.D. joined him, as time slowed to a crawl. Although it seemed like hours passed, less than fifteen minutes later the punk finished another beer and headed toward the bathrooms at the back of the bar.
Jake took a step forward, but J.D. held out his arm, blocking him. “Watch the door, Jake. Give me five minutes.”
Jake nodded. “Fine. Five minutes.”
They all three followed the gangbanger to the back, and Jake and Rick watched the door as J.D. entered the Men’s room. The sound of scuffling from inside was barely audible over the blasting music.
J.D. returned in under four minutes without a scratch on him, and a humorless smile. “Let’s get the hell out of this rat hole.”
When they got back to the SUV Jake turned to J.D. “Well?”
“The punk said they’ve still got a hangout on the north side.”
Jake shot him a glance. “I thought they tore down all the gang hot spots on the north side?”
“They did,” J.D. acknowledged. “But last year over five hundred Chicago police officers were pulled from the area and reassigned to Southside neighborhoods. Leaving the area vulnerable. Just like cockroaches, the gangs survived and flourished, retaking the area.”
“Did you get an address?” Rick asked.
J.D. nodded. “Head north.” He punched the address into the GPS as Jake pulled away from the curb.
Angela’s captor shoved her through a doorway with the door hanging halfway off its hinges, into what appeared to be a storage room. Except for a slash of moonlight that cut across the night, it was dark inside. The stench of decay permeated the air, the area filthy and full of cobwebs. She shuddered at the creepy crawly insects that skittered across the paint chipped walls. Water dripped from the maze of overhead pipes, the steady rhythm an ominous sound in the confined space.
Her heart nearly stopped when a man stepped from the darkened corner into the moonlight. Then her pulse raced at triple speed when she noticed a tattoo of a Cobra that covered half his face.
Snake. This was the leader. She froze. Fear crept along her nerves and twisted into a hard knot in the pit of her stomach, her mouth as dry as cotton.
Snake stood silently, watching her with eyes that burned with a cruel light as rough hands shoved her toward him. Angela shuddered at the sense of pure malice that rolled off him.
“Angela, so nice of you t
o join us.” His lips turned up into a smile that didn’t even come close to reaching his eyes.
About her age, his face was carved in granite, his long hair pulled back into a ponytail. The tattoo that covered half his face appeared to slither across his cheek as he chewed his gum.
She shuddered. Not wanting to get any closer, she came to a stop a few feet in front of him. Before she had a chance to speak, another shove slammed her forward into his chest.
Angela gasped and attempted to take a step back, but Snake grasped her arms and kept her pressed firmly against him. He gave a low, dark chuckle. “Where ya goin’, sweetheart?”
She trembled. If they were trying to scare her, it was working. Her breath grew short as she fought to control her fear. “What do you want?”
The steady drip, drip, drip of the water off the pipes and her harsh breathing filled the room.
After what seemed like an eternity, Snake released her. She took a quick step back, then gave a startled cry when she bumped into the man behind her. Angela turned to the side and pressed her back to the wall as her eyes adjusted to the dim light.
“You have information we need,” Snake said in a low smooth tone. He spit his gum onto the floor.
“But, I don’t.” She licked her dry lips and met his hard stare. “I don’t know what you want.” If she did, she’d give it to him.
Snake took a threatening step toward her. “Tell me what you know about Scott’s business.”
“The-the vacuum business?”
“Don’t get cute, bitch.” His eyes narrowed.
The other guy, the one who’d kidnapped her, took a switchblade from his pocket and flipped it open. He didn’t say a word as his gaze moved to her breasts.
Angela inhaled sharply and returned her attention to Snake. She needed to stall him, until she could figure a way out, or until Jake could find her.
How’s he gonna do that?
They’d taken her to Chicago. Jake would never find her.
Her heart sank. She remembered the way he’d glared at her when J.D. told him about the account she’d supposedly opened. As far as Jake was concerned, she was guilty until proven innocent. He wouldn’t be looking for her. Probably thought she’d left of her own accord. She couldn’t count on him.
