Bastards probably left it for me to get my ass out of here without bringing the police in.
Holding onto the bin, he looked at the few numbers he had embedded into his contacts. The number for the health club receptionist, Rosia, popped up. One day he’d allowed her to punch it into his contacts, mainly to get her off his back. He tapped onto her number.
“Yeeesss?” Rosia answered.
“Hello.” Vlad’s throat was clogged, he could barely speak. “Rosia, I need your help.”
“Vlad?”
“Yes. I’ve been robbed and beaten. Could you come and get me?”
Her voice was suspicious. “You sound very strange. Where are you?”
“I’m in the Sunset. I can’t drive. I need your help.”
“Didn’t I tell you the day would come when you would want me?”
“Will you come? Please?”
“Darling, anything for you.”
Vlad gave her the address. When he hung up, Gina Mazzio’s face filled his head.
She’s going to be sorry. Very sorry.
Chapter 34
Vlad was desperate when he called Rosia—he didn’t think she would agree to come for him. But she not only came, she practically carried him to her car and drove him to her apartment.
He could barely breathe and every part of him hurt, but the bitch seemed to enjoy it. She sang the whole time they were in the car.
The moment he crossed the threshold of her apartment, he could smell her cheap perfume, even with a broken nose. It made him stop in his tracks and bend over with the dry heaves. He looked around the small, shabby apartment: the place was a mess with frilly clothes scattered everywhere.
Rosia was not only tough, she was rough. She dragged him into her small bathroom, studied his nose before readying strips of tape, and then without a word of warning, realigned his broken nose. It crunched into place and she taped it firmly while he screamed curses at her.
He knew he was filthy from rolling on the ground. She stripped him, shoved him into the shower, and washed him from head to toe, taking a moment to play with his limp penis. She sang throughout it all; sang so loud and off key that he thought he would pass out.
She studied his bruised and swollen face, the colors covering his broken nose. “Poor Vlad. I’m sorry to say, you will no longer be a beautiful man. Too bad.”
He spent an agonizing night soaked in sweat and any movement made him want to curl up in agony. Rosia only had one bed, with a mattress so soft he kept rolling against her, making him cry out at each contact. His ribs became separate entities that reacted painfully with every breath.
When morning finally came, Vlad felt like a wasted old man, triple his thirty-two years. While Rosia fixed him breakfast, she said, “I went through your wallet. I see you have no money, darling.”
“I had money. The men who beat me up stole every dollar.”
“But you do have more, right?”
He nodded.
“That’s what I thought, otherwise you would be back out the door. I expect to be paid for my trouble. Understand?”
He understood all right. What she didn’t understand was that he wasn’t so weak that he couldn’t strangle her right in her own apartment.
* * *
The alarm went off and Gina crawled out of bed as though she was in a basin full of thick mud; her arms felt like they weighed fifty pounds each.
Harry, usually the first one up, didn’t budge until she poked at his arm, again and again.
“I’ll do it. I’ll do it,” he mumbled. ‘Five minutes more. I promise.” Then he was back to snoring.
In a daze, she padded into the kitchen and put together the fixings for the coffee gods and pressed the start button on the machine.
Then it hit her: This whole business about the man who was following her, that whole business with Mulzini—she’d needed to talk to Harry about it, had waited for him until after midnight, then went to bed and was asleep in an instant.
The aroma of coffee started to waft its way down the hall and into the bedroom. Gina watched Harry push himself up into a sitting position, grumping with each inch of progress.
“Oh, jeez, a night with Paulo is enough to kill me.”
“Beer, beer, beer?”
“Yeah, and a few belts of tequila in between.” He was inching along as he went into the bathroom.
After a few minutes, she heard his toothbrush humming away and she walked in as he was putting the sonic brush back into its charging stand.
“Paul knows someone who might do the hacking for us.” He started washing his face and his words came in fits and starts. “Talk ... will—”
“—will call us?” Gina finished.
Harry reached for his shaving gear. “Yeah, that’s the deal.”
He was wide awake now and looked closely at Gina. “What’s the matter, doll?”
“It can wait until later.”
“No you don’t.” He took hold of her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “We said we wouldn’t keep secrets from each other. What is it?”
“Remember what happened to Lolly?”
“Of course, how could I forget?”
“I think I know the man who did it.”
He wrapped an arm around her and they walked back to the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. “Tell me.”
“There was this creepy looking guy sitting in the cafeteria at Ridgewood yesterday, just staring at me.” Gina gulped down the returning fear she’d been feeling. “He had no food at his table and he never took his eyes off of me.”
“Babe, I stare at you all the time. You’re a damn good-looking woman.”
“I don’t think it was that. It was kinda strange, but I really didn’t get hooked into it ... then. When you dropped me off to go the Paul’s, he was here, across the street, leaning against a tree, and following my every move. Scary!”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“We needed the help from Paul. That seemed more important.” She sat up taller. “Besides, there was no way he could get into our apartment.”
“I always thought that too,” he said, “at least until last year when that stalker climbed a tree, crawled into our guestroom, and almost killed Helen.”
“No one’s getting in climbing a tree anymore,” Gina said with a mirthless laugh. “Not unless they’re Spider Man.”
“I know you, babe. You were freaked out. Go pull that Bronx-toughie act on someone else.” He pulled her into his arms. “Maybe you should give Mulzini a call. At least run it by him. He might have some ideas.”
“I tried that, but he’s not doing too well with this upcoming procedure. He needs to help himself.”
“Wait a minute. Did you tell him about Tallent? That would not be too cool.” Harry was obviously agitated. “In fact, it’s bad enough that the doc has those tapes of you and Lolly sneaking around in his office. Bad-mouthing him to Mulzini might put him over the top.”
“I didn’t tell him about Tallent. He figured it out himself.”
Gina watched the blood drain from Harry’s face. “It’s going to look bad when Mulzini goes looking for another doc for treatment.”
“He’s not going to do that,” Gina said. “Stubborn. He’s not afraid and wants to get everything over with. Right now they could cut him up in tiny pieces and he wouldn’t care as long as he can put it behind him.”
“I guess we really do need to get into Tallent’s computer,” Harry said. “It’s the only way we can look at everyone’s records, including Mulzini’s, to see if he’s really sick or having a procedure that could kill him.”
Chapter 35
Alexander Yurev was growing restless.
He looked at his watch: 1:00 p.m., on the dot.
He’d been sitting in his car for three hours, watching and waiting. Still no sign of his target.
He pulled a pack of cigarettes from the glove compartment, shook his head in disgust. He’d already gone through half a pack since six thi
s morning. His throat was dry and scratchy. A cough that was once just an occasional thing, had turned into a frequent, everyday hack. He shook his head, pulled out one cigarette, lit it with a gold lighter he kept on the seat next to him, and tossed the rest of pack back into the glove box. He inhaled and held it until he was dizzy. Only then did he release the smoke.
Was this Vlad Folo really the man he was looking for? Was he the child of Nadya and Ivan Pushkin—dead for twenty years?
He laughed to himself.
That hadn’t even been their real names. Their real family name was Antonev. It didn’t matter what name they were using, he’d found them anyway. What he’d failed to do twenty years ago was kill their twelve-year-old son. His boss hadn’t liked that loose thread.
That’s what the pig always said, ‘Alex, you left a loose thread.’
He forced an even longer drag on his cigarette.
Since that day, he was smeared as if he were covered in black tar. That one mistake, that lapse meant a demotion to a low-level nothing. He would never be allowed to move up in the ranks until it was corrected.
One fucking mistake.
He’d been left behind to kill the boy—who was now a man.
* * *
That day twenty years ago was seared into Alexander Yurev’s memory. A sigh escaped his lips, along with a stream of smoke.
His partner, Misha, had been a stupid man. Killing the father should have been a quick, easy kill. But Misha wanted blood. He kept beating the man.
“Where is your son, you fuckin’ traitor?”
“I have no son. He died last year.”
The woman wouldn’t shut up. “Leave my husband alone. Please stop hurting him.”
Misha wouldn’t stop. “You liar. I’ve been in your boy’s room. He has a lot of clothes and books for a dead kid.” He pounded more on the tied-up man’s face, then his gut. “We’re gonna find him ... and kill him. He’ll suffer. I promise you that he’ll suffer.”
“Please, please stop hurting him.”
Alex knew the couple would never give up their son. He lost it then, had screamed out to Misha, “We came here to do a job. Do it!.”
He was in charge, yet, Misha ignored him.
“Please! Please! Please!” The woman was driving him crazy.
Something snapped. He grabbed the woman, stripped off her clothes, cut up the bed sheets, and tied her to the frame. He tried to stop, but looking at her body made him instantly hard. She struggled to pull her arms and legs free of the knotted strips of the sheet. Her hips and pelvis twisted and turned as she fought to break loose. Her desperate efforts only stoked his lust.
He’d never raped a woman . His job was to kill. Brutish sex had nothing to do with his assignment. But he couldn’t help himself. He forced himself inside of her.
Misha stopped beating the man, walked to the bed, dropped his pants, and pulled Alex away. He too, raped the woman.
Alex got into his pants, pulled out his knife, and proceeded to carry out his assignment. He slit the man’s throat and immediately did the same to the woman.
When he finished, the man and woman were dead, and Misha was covered with the woman’s blood.
But the boy got away—the boy who was now a man.
* * *
Alex walked up to the health club’s reception desk. The same pretty tart was sitting there. Her bright red hair didn’t hide the large earrings she wore. She had the same seductive smile.
“Hello, Rosia. Do you remember me? I was in a few days ago.”
“I do remember you and those dark, sexy eyes.” She leaned over the small desk and her full breasts lifted above the scoop-neck blouse.
“I had hoped to set up an appointment for a deep body massage with the man you suggested. Was it Vlad?”
A flash of suspicion deepened the lines in her face. He could feel her doubt, could see that she sensed something more to his request. “Let me look at his schedule.”
“Thank you.”
She scanned the appointment book, looked back up at him, and said, “He’s very busy today, but I think I can squeeze you in, say, two weeks?”
He pulled a twenty from his pocket and tucked it under the corner of the appointment book. Her eyes lit up and a smile spread across her face. The twenty was gone in a flash.
She tapped a pencil on the desk, flipped it over to the eraser, and then flipped it back to its point and ran her index finger slowly down the center of the book. “Well, I didn’t see that before—I can slip you in a week from today. Would that work for you?”
He nodded.
“What’s your name?”
“Alex.”
“All right, Alex. One week from today at 2 o’clock. Is there a telephone number where I can reach you? I might have an appointment available sooner?”
“That’s okay. This one works into my schedule.”
She gave him a come-on smile.
He let his eyes wander to her bulging breasts and returned her smile.
Chapter 36
Tallent hardly said a word as he made his rounds at Ridgewood Hospital. He moved from patient-to-patient, let them babble on about their pain, their minor complaints, how the hospital staff wasn’t doing this or that, how things weren’t as they should be. He nodded, smiled, said he would look into it, and moved on.
Not one word of gratitude that they’re still alive. Not one word!
We save them. Them, and their dying bodies. We crack open their chests, separate bones, expose and heal their hearts. Instead of thanks, there are only complaints. They lie there, a bunch of fat cats used to getting their own way.
The nurses and their detailed notes allowed him to get a good handle on what was up with each of his patients, but he was having trouble being attentive to anyone lately.
He wandered through the CCU, watched everyone hustle, each staff person focused on the details of an assigned task. They barely paid attention to him. Even though he knew that on some level they were aware that he was there, he felt invisible, as though they could walk right through him.
He caught a glimpse of Gina Mazzio moving down a corridor toward the locker room. He turned to follow her, could almost smell her trailing scent that was cut off when she went through the door.
The lights inside the locker room were dim—an effort to rein in costs, although it probably saved very little money. He could hear her rattling a metal locker door as he walked down the aisles. They were the only ones in the deserted area.
He moved around a blind corner and saw her going through her purse. She looked up, tilted her head to one side.
“What were you and Lolly Stenz doing in my office?”
Her eyes widened, but she didn’t speak.
“Well?”
“We were there because Lolly forgot something.”
“In my office? I hardly think so.” He kept looking at that soft neck of hers, imagining his fingers squeezing, cutting off her air.
“She ... she was showing me around and wanted me to see your office since she worked for you.”
He could see she was uncomfortable with this whole business, but not nearly as nervous as he’d like her to be.
He took a few steps closer. “That was damn unprofessional of her to just up and quit, leave us in the lurch like that, without any notice. She left us in one helluva bad position.”
“It wasn’t intentional, I mean, she didn’t mean to leave you hanging ... ”
He moved in closer until he was no more than arm’s length away. She stepped back—up against her opened locker door.
His insides were on fire. He wanted to choke the life out of her. It was eating at him, pushing him, pushing hard.
She slammed her locker door shut, turned, and hurried away.
“You’d better stay out of my way, Gina Mazzio,” he yelled at her back.
* * *
Tallent raced out of the hospital, ignoring people who called out their greetings. He took the elevator down to the underground par
king garage and hurried to his Mercedes AMG sedan.
Settling in, he closed his eyes and gulped deep breaths, trying to get control of his anger.
He’d wanted to choke the life out of that Gina Mazzio. She was a threat that he couldn’t get away from.
What exactly did she know?
What did she and Lolly see when they sneaked into his office?
He leaned back and allowed his senses to take over. Every time he sat in this car it reminded him of Annie. She’d chosen it.
He stared straight ahead, seeing nothing. He could almost remember how it had smelled when it was new—leathery, rich.
And he could still catch the scent of Annie’s special perfume in the interior every now and then.
* * *
He meant to drive straight to his office, but instead he drove over the Golden Gate Bridge, headed for Muir Beach in Marin County. That’s where Annie liked to go. Said it was a lovely drive and it took them away from the stuffy crowds into the openness and fresh smells of the ocean.
He got off the freeway at the Mill Valley exit and went through the twisty roads that used to be so much fun to drive. There was only one other car in the Muir Beach parking lot. It was a gray day with drizzle that left tiny blobs of moisture on the surface of his highly waxed car.
He took his shoes off and walked through the icy sand up to the water’s edge.
It was calm here. Off in the distance a man was throwing a stick for his dog to chase. For a moment he thought about stripping off his clothes and walking out into the sea. Tears ran down his cheeks when he remembered how Annie would dance around him, then stand on tip-toes to kiss him.
Where had it all gone wrong? He kept asking himself that question, over and over, even though the answer was one he’d always known.
He’d forgotten the man who lived in his skin. Instead, he became the man who could make money. Large amounts of money.
His mind was spinning.
It had suddenly turned warmer and the sky had become a bright blue. He could feel the sun warming his skin.
It was so good.
He kept looking at the sky as he walked into the water. He was free and the sun was hypnotic. So bright—calling to him.
Bone Crack: A Medical Suspense Thriller (The Gina Mazzio Series Book 6) Page 13
