by Pandora Pine
Ronan knew what word Carson was refusing to say. Dead. He was refusing to say Tennyson was dead.
“He isn’t dead, Ronan.” Fitzgibbon set a hand on Ronan’s shoulder. “Dragonni’s men took him for a reason. If they wanted him dead, they would have killed him when he opened the door. They wouldn’t have risked abducting him in the middle of the morning in a residential neighborhood just to take him to a second location. Dragonni wants him for a reason.”
“What reason?” Ronan asked. He was drawing a complete blank. All he could do was stare up into Kevin’s face.
“His gift,” Carson said simply. “Dragonni wanted him for it before. That’s why they grabbed him now. That bastard needs him for something.”
“Why would Dragonni need Tennyson’s gift now? To stay a step ahead of the FBI? To get out of the country?” Ronan felt his blood starting to boil. When he got his hands on Dragonni, he was going to end him. There wasn’t going to be a trial this time. Ronan was going to put the fucker down for good.
“To find Tony. What else could it be? It isn’t a coincidence that Dragonni breaks out of custody the day after he finds out that Abruzzi is still alive.” Fitzgibbon was tapping the touch screen of his phone. “Damn it, fake number.”
“What’s a fake number?” Ronan turned to look at Fitzgibbon’s phone.
“That prosecutor, Dawes. When I met with her the other day when she came in to prep you for the trial, she gave me her number in case I needed anything. The number is disconnected.”
“Maybe it was a burner cell?” Ronan didn’t like the other thought that was flashing through his mind.
“What?” Carson grabbed his arm. “I know that look. You’re on to something.”
“I was just wondering what if she’s working for Dragonni now?” It wouldn’t be the first time the mob boss flipped someone from working for the good guys to becoming a member of his staff.
“Who? Lauren Dawes?” Fitzgibbon shook his head. “She’s a federal prosecutor with an impeccable record. Why would she risk her career like this?”
“Money.” Carson supplied. “People have done worse things for money, Kevin.”
“Let’s not jump to conclusions. We can worry about Dawes later. What’s important now are Tennyson and Tony.” Fitzgibbon was back on the phone again. “Clemente, it’s Fitzgibbon. We’ve got a problem. Tennyson Grimm has been kidnapped by Vito Dragonni’s men. We think they’re going to use him to find Tony Abruzzi.” Kevin rolled his eyes. “I tried to call her but the number is no longer in service. Yes, I double checked the number. Yes, I’ll hold.” Fitzgibbon pulled the phone away from his head. “Clemente’s going to call Dawes. He doesn’t believe her number is out of service.”
Ronan was already busy making a mental list of what he needed to do. There was a traffic camera at the end of the block where there was a four-way traffic light. Cisco Jackson needed to pull the video to see if the car that took Tennyson was captured. Someone also needed to reach out to Carlie. If Dragonni’s men grabbed Ten, they might also grab her, unless she was already with him. Ronan grabbed his phone and dialed Carlie’s number. “Calling Carlie Abruzzi to warn her.”
“Clemente,” Fitzgibbon said. “Uh, huh.” Kevin shook his head no. “Ronan’s calling her now. Are you sure? Okay, we’ll see you then.” Kevin tapped his phone and turned to Ronan. “Well?”
“No answer on the house phone and her cell is going straight to voicemail. Makes me wonder if she’s with him and her cell is shut off. We need to find out where she is. The kids too. Shit!” Ronan’s mind was spinning. If he hadn’t been such an asshole last night none of this would have happened. “My best friend is still alive. I should have raced to his side like Carlie did and hugged the life out of him. We all should have gone out last night to celebrate. The second thought in my mind after, ‘Holy fuck, he’s alive,’ should have been that Dragonni was going to come after him again. Jesus Christ, this is all my fault.” Ronan shook his head. “What did Clemente say?”
“This isn’t the time to play the blame game, Ronan. No one is faulting you for responding the way that you did. Tony is still in the Witness Protection Program. It’s up to the U.S. Marshalls guarding him to protect him and anyone else with him. That includes Carlie and the boys.” Kevin took a deep breath. “Cruz said the same thing I did about Lauren Dawes’ phone. It’s out of service. Faulkner Hayes is with him at the hospital. Clemente is going to check out of the hospital and Faulk is going to bring him to the precinct.”
“Good, that will make it easier for me to kill him.” Ronan felt his hands tightening into fists.
“That’s not helping, Ronan!” Carson charged at him, shoving at his chest. “It’s your temper that got us in this mess in the first place. If you would have just calmed the hell down and listened to him. Did you even try for a minute to put yourself in his shoes and try to imagine what it was like for him over these last few months?”
“Tell me how you would have handled it, Carson!” Ronan took two steps back from Tennyson’s best friend. “We all saw how you and Truman fell to pieces on the cruise because you were spending too much time at work, but you go ahead and tell me all about how I should have handled this situation with my husband.” Ronan fisted his hands on his hips. He knew he was way over the line bringing up Carson and Truman’s marital issues at a time like this, but he was so scared about Tennyson and his part in this mess that whatever words were in his head were just flying out of his mouth uncensored.
Carson crossed his arms over his chest. “I admit that I was a complete asshole in the way that I dealt with Truman, but nothing that I did ever put my husband’s life in danger. Dragonni’s men have him, Ronan. The psychic link I had with Tennyson is broken and I can’t get it back. We’ve all watched you mourn for the last five months. There were times when I didn’t know if you’d make it through sober. I prayed for you every day. I know you’re mad at Ten now, but if anything happens to him…” Carson fell back into his chair, sinking his face into his hands.
Ronan knew what Carson had been about to say. If Tennyson was dead, it would kill Ronan too.
22
Tennyson
It was the pain thumping in his skull that woke Tennyson up. It was radiating out from his left cheek, but flared red-hot with every beat of his heart. Cracking open one eyeball, he was face to face with a worn bedspread that smelled like an ashtray.
Not wanting to alert his captors that he was awake, he swallowed his rising gorge and tried to stay calm. He made an effort to wiggle his toes in his loafers, they all moved. When he tried to do the same with his hands there was a clanking noise.
“Hey look! Sleeping Beauty decided to rejoin the land of the living!” the voice started to laugh.
Tennyson wasn’t amused. He was obviously handcuffed to the disgusting bed he was lying on. He hoped it didn’t have lice. Although why he was worried about that when mob goons had kidnapped him and were probably going to kill him was beyond him at the moment. He tried to roll over and only succeeded in crossing his arms over his head. At least he wasn’t directly inhaling the bedspread anymore. “Are the handcuffs really necessary? You’ve got guns and I’ve got to pee like a racehorse.”
Dragonni’s men burst out laughing, as if that was the funniest thing they’d ever heard. Thankfully, one of them walked to the bed and released him from his cuffs.
Sitting up, a wave of nausea washed over Tennyson. He grabbed his head and the scarred nightstand to his left in order to steady himself. What the hell had happened to him? A ghost of a memory tickled at the back of his mind. His left hand came up to the side of his face. He hissed in pain. The man sitting across from him had hit him with his gun.
His head turned slowly to the man who’d been sitting with him in the backseat of the black Cadillac. “You’re one of the men who were at the meeting in Jamaica Plain. One of the briefcase bombers. Marco, right?” Ten got unsteadily to his feet, praying his rubbery legs would hold him. Thank Christ they did. He wo
bbled a bit, but stayed on his feet.
The man stood easily. He towered over Tennyson. “Yeah, that’s right. You’re like a fucking cat with your nine lives, Grimm. Listen and listen good. Your luck is about to run out. As soon as we’re done with you, it will be my pleasure to cap you myself. You hear me?”
Tennyson heard him. Loud and clear. He didn’t bother to respond, he headed instead toward the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He needed a minute to catch his breath and take care of his personal needs.
“Leave it open, asshole!” Marco barked.
“I’m not MacGyver,” Tennyson called back. “I’ll hardly be able to make an escape attempt with the sliver of soap and the shower cap.”
“I like this guy,” the other goon laughed.
“Good, Dragonni can shoot you in the fucking head when he manages to escape then,” Marco said.
Tennyson was halfway through relieving himself when the bathroom door flew open. It bounced off the back wall before ricocheting back toward the mobster. “I said to leave the door open.” He was pointing the gun at Tennyson’s head again.
“I was a little busy trying to make my escape as you can clearly see.” Ten had one hand braced against the wall so he wouldn’t lose his balance and his dick was in the other. What the asshole with the gun didn’t know was that Ten was trying to reestablish his psychic link with Carson. So far, it wasn’t working.
Now that he was fully awake and moving around, Tennyson knew he probably had a mild concussion. His symptoms were a lot like what he’d experienced after the briefcase bombing back in August. He was having trouble remembering little details and his gift wasn’t working at all. He wasn’t quite sure what to do about that little fact yet, considering that his gift was most likely the reason he’d been grabbed in the first place.
Finishing up, he stepped over to the sink to wash his hands. “You want to explain this to me?” Ten knew the most important thing with his gift on the blink was buying time.
“I’m not telling you dick. Aren’t you supposed to know anyway? You’re the fucking psychic.” Marco’s hands were fisted on his hips. An expectant look was plastered on his face.
“Well, I’m not at the moment.” Ten threw his hands out in front of him. He figured going with the truth would be the best plan. If he started lying about knowing things, that was likely to get him killed faster than being honest about why his gift wasn’t working.
The second man stood up and rushed toward him. “What do you mean you’re not at the moment? What kind of fucking bullshit is this?”
“You hit me twice in the head. I think I have a concussion. When that happens, my gift doesn’t work. So, I really hope you didn’t grab me to use my gift only to whack me around. Vito isn’t going to like that you broke his new toy before he got to play with it.” Ten shrugged before he sat back down on the bed. Pain flashed through his skull again. This wasn’t a good sign.
“How do you know we’re taking you to Vito?” the other man asked.
“Gee, Paulie, maybe because I read you before Marco scrambled my brains?” Ten sighed. “Oh, and please give my gratitude to whichever one of your friends shot Cruz Clemente.” He pasted a placid smile on his face. Ten didn’t really mean it, but he might be able to stir up a little cooperation if he employed the Stockholm Syndrome.
Paulie’s eyes went wide. “Get the fuck out of here. Why the hell would you be happy that we shot a fed? Your husband’s a fucking cop.”
“Oh, you didn’t hear what that fucking fed did to me?” Ten absently rubbed at the back of head. He winced, hoping it would drum up some sympathy.
“What’d the big bad fed do to you, Tennyson?” Marco rolled his eyes.
“He brought me in to witness Tony Abruzzi’s confession. Then told me I had to keep the news that he was alive from my husband or he’d throw me in jail and wouldn’t let me be there for the birth of my daughter on Valentine’s Day.” Just saying those words out loud brought all the pain back. The months of deceiving Ronan. The look in his husband’s eyes last night when he’d walked away from the table. The thought of never getting to see his child. Ten’s stomach tossed with anxiety.
The mobsters exchanged a silent look. “You’re having a baby?”
Ten nodded. “A little girl named Everly Erin. So, you make sure you thank whoever it was that shot that dirty bastard.” Ten closed his eyes, bracing his hands on either side of himself. He tried to focus on an image of his daughter, hoping it would help him calm down enough to think clearly again.
“How do we help your gift come back?” Marco asked. He sounded nervous.
Ten bit back a smile. He needed to keep buying time for Carson and Ronan to find him. This was the perfect way to do that. “I need Advil and something to eat. That helped me the last time this happened. You remember that, Marco? When you tried to blow me and my friends up.”
He had no idea where he was, but knew that there weren’t many Chick-Fil-A locations in Massachusetts. As much as it turned his stomach to even think about eating anything from that place, he knew it would buy time. “The last time this happened, I had a spicy chicken sandwich and waffle fries from Chick-Fil-A.” Ten shrugged. “I’m sure it was just coincidence that worked though.” He shrugged, hoping the mobsters would buy his act.
“A spicy chicken sandwich brought back your gift?” Marco asked dubiously.
“I grew up in the Midwest. That’s my kind of comfort food. Plus, I was loaded up on all kinds of pain meds. I can think a lot more clearly when it doesn’t feel like Dumbo is sitting on my face.” Ten pointed to his heavily bruised left cheek.
“I told you not to fucking hit him, Marco,” Paulie hissed. “What fucking difference does it make if he knows where we’re taking him. It’s not like he can telegraph that information to one of his psychic friends.”
“True.” Ten nodded his head sadly. A tear trickled down his cheek. While he watched the mobsters argue with each other he was still trying to reach out to Carson and Cole. He wasn’t having any luck though. Not that he wasn’t going to keep trying.
“Shit, now he’s crying. Nice fucking job, Marco! His gift probably doesn’t work when he’s too emotional either.” Paulie crossed his arms over his barrel chest.
“I’ll never see my husband or my baby!” Ten wailed before burying his face in his hands. He was really laying it on thick.
“Go for the food, Marco. I’ll stay here and try to calm him down. Get milkshakes too and lots of Advil. Maybe a warm blanket. This place is really a shit hole. If he can’t do what Vito needs him to do, we’ll end up in a fucking hole.” Paulie trailed off.
Tennyson howled even louder. His face was killing him but his overdramatic efforts were paying off. Paulie seemed like the type of guy he could manipulate. That just might save his life.
23
Ronan
The urge to punch Cruz Clemente in his smug face was so overwhelming, Ronan had to leave the conference room. He was pacing in front of his desk in the South Boston precinct house hoping that the steps would help calm him down.
“Hey, are you okay?” Fitzgibbon was standing behind him.
Ronan shook his head. “No, I am most definitely not okay.” He turned to face his boss. His best friend. “I did so many things wrong yesterday. Blowing up at Tennyson, not taking a look at the situation from his shoes, interrogating him like a suspect, telling him not to call me, leaving him alone, not telling Carson that I’d left, shutting off my phone.” Ronan shook his head. “I know you’re going to say there’s nothing I can do about that now and that we need to focus on finding Tennyson, but Jesus Christ, Kevin. I don’t think I could have fucked this up more if I’d been the one who set Vito Dragonni free myself.”
“You have a point there.” Kevin’s voice was solemn.
Ronan felt his eyes go wide. He’d been expecting Kevin to pat his shoulder and tell him everything was going to be all right. Obviously, his boss was going in a different direction for a pep talk.
<
br /> “No one can say what would have happened if you’d been home when Dragonni’s men rang the bell, Ronan. They could have shot you on your own doorstep or kidnapped you too. I’m sure they had their orders from the top. All that matters right now is finding Tennyson and keeping Tony safe. Once those two objectives have been met and Dragonni is back in a cage where he belongs, then you can go about righting your wrongs. Both of you can. I’m not saying Tennyson is innocent in any of this either, but now isn’t the time or place to talk about that.” He set a hand on Ronan’s shoulder. “Let’s get back in there. I have news to pass along and then we need to make a plan.”
Nodding, Ronan straightened his shoulders. “If this goes sideways, Cap, tell Tennyson that I love him and that I’m sorry.”
Kevin openly scowled at Ronan. “Tell him that yourself.” Without saying another word, Fitzgibbon turned and walked back toward the conference room.
Ronan followed silently behind him. He knew Kevin would deliver the message if worse came to worse.
Walking into the conference room, it blew Ronan away to see all of the people assembled to help find Tennyson and Vito Dragonni by extension. Carson and Cole were both there, Jude and Copeland had picked them up on their way into Boston. Faulkner Hayes had brought Cruz Clemente, who was still looking a bit worse for wear. His left arm was in a sling and he was nodding off on Faulk’s shoulder.
According to Faulkner, Clemente had checked himself out of the hospital against medical advice and was still suffering from the after effects of the anesthesia. Clemente had spent two hours in surgery having the bullet removed from his left shoulder. He should have spent the next two days in the hospital.
“Okay, everyone,” Fitzgibbon started. “I have some disturbing news. The body of Lauren Dawes was found in her hotel room ninety minutes ago. From the evidence we’ve been able to gather so far it seems she was tortured by Dragonni’s men and killed. So far, we’ve been unable to uncover any connection linking them together, so it doesn’t appear she was working for Dragonni.”