"And you shouldn’t. Not for someone like Jacque, sure as hell not for someone like Eric Randolph. Killing them is not the same as killing innocents. You won't see the difference, but I've been in this world long enough to realize this. Because he, and people like him, will keep killing innocent people unless stopped. The law doesn’t always have all the answers."
Strip Club Hit
Lara
We relocated to a different motel, this one a lot closer to town. Clay didn’t think we needed to hide for a while. Jacque would have assured Eric he had us both, and he wouldn’t move until after he didn’t get any news back for twenty-four hours.
The room was enough for us to get a few hours of sleep, at least, but nowhere near as much as either of us needed.
I found myself alone when I woke up, but I didn’t fret. I figured Clay had probably just gone to get us something to eat. I went to take a shower, and when I came back, he was already back. Thankfully, with some food. And with some other necessities; a change of clothes for himself. I would have asked for the same, but he at least brought me some underwear.
We didn’t talk much as we ate, we'd talked plenty last night before going to sleep. He was done faster than I was, then he got up, and touched my cheek as he walked past me to go have his own shower.
With Clay out of the room, I felt comfortable enough to change. The underwear was a pair of boxer briefs, just the right fit for me, and I pulled the leather pants on over it, even though it ruined the smooth lines. I wasn’t trying to be pretty for anybody. He'd brought my bulletproof vest along, and that went under the shirt with the jacket over it.
Clay was still in the shower. I looked around the room, looking for a pad and a pen, and I found one on the nightstand. We'd taken a smaller room with one bed, hoping to remain inconspicuous, and it was a little better off than the last room we were in. There was a pen next to the notepad, and I uncapped it and wrote down a quick message.
I'm heading out.
It was vague, but I didn’t want to take the time to write something elaborate. He'd find me still writing it. It was the last thing I needed.
This had been going on too long, and I finally knew what I had to do. I couldn’t just go to the police because chances are I would be a suspect, or someone working for Eric would somehow get to me so I couldn’t even appear at Jimmy's trial. Clay couldn’t get in the middle of it because he'd wind up dead or in jail.
Clay deserved to have a normal life. He didn’t act much like a killer at all unless he was around assholes like Jacque. He'd told me that the only surviving contract he still held was Randolph's, so with them out of the way, he would get that chance.
There was only one thing I could think to do. It was brash, but it was better than waiting for something to happen. I didn’t know who to trust on the force, so I decided to take matters into my own hands.
Clay and I had talked in the car, as we drove around looking for somewhere to spend what was left of the night. He'd told me all about Jimmy's favorite clubs, and I thought it would be the best place to start. We'd left Jimmy's car by the docks, and he'd taken one of the other cars around, black and inconspicuous. I didn’t ask where he got the keys; I waited for him as he drove the car there and came back with a different one.
It was the best place I could think of to start looking for Jimmy. I didn’t doubt he'd still be out partying, after getting released from prison after nearly a month. I wasn’t sure I would find anything anyway, but I hoped for a miracle.
I got it.
I was cruising around with the car, going around to the various clubs and bars, looking from inside. I didn’t want to get out of the car and give myself away just yet, so I was just driving around. But then I saw him, Jimmy Randolph himself, still clothed but looking disheveled and leaving a strip club, probably going to look for breakfast now that it was light out before he went home to crash.
I glanced around the street as I parked a short distance away, but there didn’t seem to be that many people around. I'd gotten my gun back from Clay, and I had it in held in the holster at the small of my back. I got out of the car with the keys. I stepped silently, quickly, behind Jimmy. I tapped his arm as I pulled out the gun, and it was aimed at him when turned around.
He was frowning when he turned, then he saw the gun and his eyes widened. "Whoa!" he raised his arms up, looking scared, pretty much like he did the day I caught him red handed with drugs.
"Move." I gestured with the gun for him to turn around.
"Look, Officer Foley," he said, sounding nervous, backing away a discreet step, glancing around and seeing what I did. No one would be up and about in this area so early in the morning. "I think we might have gotten off to a bad start."
"You're telling me, Jimmy. In the past twelve hours, if even that, I've seen two people I give a damn about die and killed one man with my bare hands. I blame all of that on you and your dad. Now move it, or I swear I will shoot you where you stand."
I kept my voice cold, to show him I meant business. His eyes were wide and panicky, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed. When he didn’t move fast enough, I held the gun in both hands, finger on the trigger, and aimed for his knee cap.
"On the count of three, you move where I want to or I shoot out both your knees."
I wouldn’t, not with my police issue gun, while he was unarmed. It would be considered police brutality and I could be dismissed. I wasn’t about to lose hope just yet. But he was scared enough that he bought my bluff. He nodded, the movement shaky and erratic. I gestured with the gun again, and we both moved as I reversed our positions.
"Turn around and walk."
He did as I asked, and I placed a hand on his shoulder to lead him to the car. I took him around to the back of it. I had him stand a distance from me, with his back to me, as I pulled out the car keys and opened the trunk, keeping the gun and one eye on him.
"Get inside."
He flipped around, sputtering. "In the freaking trunk!"
I didn’t trust him anywhere else, even with me holding a gun. This way, I wouldn’t have to worry about him. I saw him look around again, more desperate.
"I don’t have much more to lose, Jimmy. I don’t care if someone sees; I will shoot you and leave you to die here. Get inside the trunk."
Still, he hesitated. In my impatience, I shoved at his shoulder. I think he was worried more because of the gun getting closer, and he got in. I closed it, made sure it would stay closed, then hid the gun and went to get inside. I paused to take a breath, tried to calm the fast beat of my heart.
I knew where Eric Randolph lived—hell, everyone did. And once I learned of him, I came to know, too. I started the car and drove, keeping to the speed limit. It was maybe twenty minutes out driving at the speed limit, and almost at that exact time, I saw the building. Even though we were still in the city, he somehow managed to build himself a mansion, covering grounds that took up nearly three blocks, if not more.
I slowed the car down, came to a stop some distance from the gates. They were large, maybe nine feet and made of iron. I could try to drive the car through those gates, but it was a small car, something more along the lines of practical, not heavy duty. I'd seen the scene in movies, but even after spending a night around Clay Newbury, I still held that crap like that was impossible to pull off. I wasn’t trying to kill myself before I even got in.
So, I waited for a bit, chewing on the inside of my cheek, keeping a lookout, thinking up contingency plans. I couldn’t hold Jimmy hostage on the street. If I was denied entrance to the gate and they called the cops, I would be taken in. If Clay had been there…
I scowled at myself for thinking of him, even as I conceded that he might have had a better idea. Or he would have just gone in, guns blazing.
But again, I got lucky.
I was gearing myself up to try the ram-through-the-gates tactic when a car drove past me. I waited to see where it would go, grinning when it went right up to the gate
. There was a loud buzzer, and then the gates were sliding open.
"Showtime, baby."
I started the car and drove forward at high speed. I didn’t even wait for the other car, the gate was wide enough, and I drove right past it and down the long drive. I slid the car to a screeching stop close to the mansion, sharply hitting the brakes. I was out and around to the trunk before someone could think to shoot me, popping it open and dragging Jimmy out, gun already held and aimed in my hand.
"Get out."
He didn’t try anything, stepping out, and I grabbed his arm, turning him around and bringing him in front of me like a human shield. He wasn’t quite as big as Clay or Jacque, he didn’t have more than an inch on me, so it was easy to hold the gun pressed to his temple, much like Jacque had done to me mere hours ago.
My heart was beating fast in my chest, adrenaline pumping in my blood, but I kept my hand steady.
"Someone tell Eric Randolph to get the fuck out here and face me!"
My loud shout managed to get through the noise coming from the men rushing over to us, shouting and pulling guns. No one tried to shoot me, though; I was a little too close to Jimmy.
"Don’t make me repeat myself."
They hesitated, then maybe half their number ran inside, a few going around the building.
I didn’t have to wait long for the man himself to make his way out and down the front steps. His movements were slow, controlled, but I could tell easily by the set of his face that he was not pleased by the turn of events.
"Miss Foley. I have to say, this is… incredibly bold of you." He came to a stop at the bottom of the steps, hands shoved casually in his pockets. "You do realize you have half a dozen guns pointed at you? That there will be many more joining them in just a few moments? And at my command, your body would be filled with holes?"
I smiled coldly. Of course, I noticed the guns pointed at me, they bothered me greatly, but I wasn’t going to let him have the satisfaction of seeing that.
"If you're confident you can have one of your men kill me before I pull the trigger… or when they do, my hand won't convulse and pulls the trigger even as I die, then do as you like."
His lips tightened. It was a tiny movement, but I was looking for it, so I saw it. He knew I was right. "You are a lot braver than I gave you credit for, Miss Foley. And a thousand times more stupid."
"Say what you like, I don’t really care. I mean, you killed my partner in front of me and that kind of screwed up with my mind. If you hadn't annoyed your hitman to the point where he just grabbed me to make life harder for you, I would have died and that would have been the end of it. But you see, I didn’t die, and that wasn’t the end of it. I've had to live with someone's death on my hands, thanks to you."
I gave a laugh, and it sounded a little hysterical.
"And then sending Luke to kill me. Of all people, why did it have to be him?"
"Luke Walsh never did call in to report on his little assignment. What happened to him, Miss Foley?"
"He died. By my gun." I conveniently left out the part where I wasn’t the one holding it when he died. "Then there was that other psychopath. I think his name was Jacque?"
Jimmy, clearly remembering my earlier words, connected the dots and cursed. Eric frowned at him.
"What is it, son?"
"She must have killed him, Jacque." I nudged him with the gun but didn’t tell him to shut up, and he didn’t. "Earlier, when she grabbed me, she said she'd killed a man with her bare hands. I haven't seen or heard from him since last night."
Eric's eyes darkened as his expression hardened. I felt my body chill and want to cower when he turned that look to me. But I kept my gun aimed at Jimmy.
"How did someone like you manage to kill a man of his size."
"Knife to the carotid artery, a little idea I got from your pet killer. It's funny, you know, there was a lot of blood. I didn’t expect that."
He only grew angrier. "Newbury," he practically growled the name.
But then he got a hold of himself, taking an obvious breath and blowing it out. As it left, it removed some tension from him, and he looked almost peaceful.
"How nice of you to admit so openly to murder, Miss Foley. I've just decided I won't kill you for making such a foolish choice; bringing yourself here and holding my son hostage, right in front of my house. Really too idiotically brave."
I felt my body go ice cold at his tone. It was way too relaxed. I also didn’t believe he didn’t want to kill me, but it only made me wonder what else he had up his sleeve.
"And why is that."
"I can have you locked up for the rest of your life. Because true punishment isn’t death, you see. That would be making your life a living hell."
I shifted my stance, feeling something like fear trying to have its way. "Even if you could, I would be behind bars. There's no way you could get to me." But my voice lacked conviction because I knew that wasn’t entirely true.
He could see my doubts, and it made him smile. It was dangerous, so much worse than Jacque ever could have looked.
"Oh, but you see Miss Foley, I can. For a man of my means, with my connections, there are very few doors not opened to me. Those closed, I can just as easily open, or have opened for me. You are nothing but an insignificant girl compared to me. A disillusioned little girl turned cop killer, murderer. The media would have a field day with you. And once they were done, then the courts were done, you'd be sentenced to jail term.”
"Did you know there's a nice little prison meant for women just like you within the city limits? They won't even have to transfer you to a state penitentiary. Isn’t that just wonderful Miss Foley? It being a women's prison, it is mostly female guards but the occasional male guard does appear there. And I could always send you visitors from the outside, it's allowed after all." Then suddenly, he grinned. "And I believe Jacque's sister should be stationed there…" he pretended to look thoughtful.
But I had gone white as a sheet. I hadn't known the psycho had a family, just that he worked for Eric Randolph. I didn’t regret killing him, but that didn’t mean I wanted to meet his family.
"S-sister?" I stuttered, then felt my eyes widen as I took in the whole sentence. "Stationed?"
"Why, yes, stationed. Did I forget to mention? She works as a guard, though she's probably among the worst criminal in there. Isn’t the irony interesting? I'm sure she'd just love to hear about you. She is an amazing woman. After their father died, she worked for me for a time, she was better than most men I had in my employ before I met Newbury. Of course, he tends to be cleaner, swift, which is no fun at all. Jacque was very inspired by her and she doted on him. She'll be interested, I think, when the news of her baby brother's murder, and his murderer, comes out."
Fuck. I was trying very hard not to give into the guilt that tried to gnaw at me when it came to him. But when it came down to it, I valued my life more than Jacque's. Still, if I did end up in prison, and this woman was as frightening as her brother, worse if Eric were to be believed… and I didn’t think he would lie, not about something like this… even if I survived, I'd probably wish I didn’t.
"Just so you know, cop," Jimmy said, and I could practically hear the grin in his voice. "I've met the dragon lady. She's a wonderful woman. I think you'd get along well with her. She's got a thing for torture, and you know what? You're exactly her type."
I didn’t let them see the turmoil growing in my chest. I didn’t need another person coming after me if I ever managed to put these two out of the picture. I kept my exterior cool so they wouldn’t know just how much they were getting to me, acting like none of it affected me.
"Your treacherous hitman is coming for you, Randolph. I don’t intend to go to prison. If I die here, then so be it, but I will damn sure take one of you with me."
He just stood there, staring at me with those dark eyes. I felt my body shiver in apprehension, but I pushed it aside. I couldn’t let myself falter, not only could I kill Jimmy by a
ccident, but if I let him see just how afraid I was, he would see the ruse, and everything would be over.
Eric was suddenly walking, and I froze. "What the hell are you doing? Back up or I will shoot him."
"You're bluffing. You had the chance, to kill him, kill me, you haven't done anything. Do you believe you will get out of this in one piece? I'm thinking I'd like to see you tortured instead of killed, but how about tortured and then killed? The prison idea was a nice one, it would certainly keep you in one place, but then I won't get to watch you suffer. "
"I just told you I am not going to prison. If I die, I will die, but sure as hell, he is going to get at least one of you. He knows where I am."
"Newbury won't come for you, not here. He may be a killer that suddenly found his conscious, and he has clearly grown some strange obsession with you, but he always had common sense. He's a man that has seen death, Miss Foley. More than anything, he will want to live. Coming here, coming after me, like some lone ranger would do the opposite of help him achieve his life's goal."
Well, that wasn’t a lie. Everyone feared death, even killers. And I had no idea what he meant by 'obsession.' Clay didn’t want to keep killing, Eric wanted him to, anyway. Only an idiot would be surprised he'd finally lashed out.
But Eric was still coming, and I didn’t think I could take the shot, not at Jimmy. He was a bastard, but all he'd done to me was run his mouth.
I cursed, shoving Jimmy out of the way. He hit the ground and scrambled back then to his feet. I expected him to back away, but he didn’t, looking ready to jump me. I was distracted between keeping an eye on him and his old man.
Eric was right in front of me, a man dangerous enough even the police were afraid of him. He had killed my partner, he had my mentor track me down to kill me, sent a maniac after me… and he wouldn’t stop torturing me until I was dead, whenever that would happen.
I had a clear shot of him. I could have taken him out, and even if I died… at least Gabe would be avenged. Luke wouldn’t deserve it. I probably wouldn’t live through it; my death would be a painful one, but…
His Betrayal: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Omerta Series Book 5) Page 10
