In Jack's Arms (Fighting Connollys)

by Rivera, Roxie

  "And there's the kid and Flea," Besian said, tapping another square on the monitor. "Looks like they came in the back, shut off the security system and caught Mark and the guard."

  On screen, the two armed men used their weapons to persuade Mark and the guard to walk toward the office. Mark reluctantly used his keys and access codes to open the safe while Marley took the weapons from the guards and tied their arms and legs. She was crying when Leonard made her bind Mark's wrists and ankles. It was Leonard who popped each man in the neck with a syringe, and Flea who rifled through their pockets in search of cash and valuables.

  "But who the hell is that?" Jack spotted another man coming in the front door.

  "Shit." Besian obviously recognized him. "That's Julio Jimenez. He's the number one cartel man in the city. Well—he was."

  "Why risk everything over an unsanctioned hit?" It was the one piece of the puzzle Jack hadn't been able to figure out since Lalo Contreras had filled him on the real situation.

  "Family," Besian said softly. His finger moved across the monitor. "Here we go. So—Julio finds these three idiots trying to steal the decoy camera. He pops Flea when he tries to run. The kid drops his gun and surrenders because he's a coward and that leaves dear old dad to try to talk his way out of it."

  "And Marley," Jack murmured as the young woman was blindfolded and bound by Leonard and tied to Dan. "Why take her?"

  "Because her stepfather rides with the Calaveras club," Besian replied matter-of-factly.

  Jack didn't believe it. "You're sure?"

  Besian nodded. "I checked it out. Her mother is married to Octavio Ruiz, the vice president of the club."

  "Well…shit."

  "Yeah. Shit." Besian smacked his back. "We need to go."

  "I have to call the police."

  "Why?"

  "Because there are three unconscious men and a dead man in the shop," he said tersely. "We can't just leave them here."

  "We don’t have time for this, Jack."

  "What if Mark and the two guards were overdosed? If they die—"

  "Wipe the fucking camera. Get rid of any video evidence that we were here after the attack. I'll handle the rest."

  Jack did what was necessary while Besian made a phone call. He spoke in rapid-fire Albanian, his tone one that brooked no refusal. Pocketing his phone, he said, "Ben is less than five minutes away. He'll take care of everything here. Happy?"

  "Not really."

  "Where is the real camera, Jack?"

  He shoved out of the chair and returned to Abby's office. Hopping up onto her desk, he popped free the ceiling tile above her chair and slid it aside. His hand slapped around until he found and retrieved the box. After replacing the ceiling tile, he gave the box a shake. "Right here."

  "Then let's get the hell out of here. We'll take my car."

  Jack didn't like the idea of riding shotgun with the mobster but beggars couldn't be choosers. He slipped into the front seat of the flashy sedan and fastened his seatbelt. Besian punched the gas and drove for a few blocks before asking, "Do you have a piece?"

  "Not on me," Jack answered.

  "Check the glove box. Take whichever one you like. They're all clean."

  He did as instructed and discovered a small cache of weapons. He picked through them until he found one similar to his preferred pistol and then closed the glove box. "You should have Ben put some traps in here."

  Besian chuckled. "Did he school you on the underworld?"

  "No, he made it perfectly clear that I didn't belong in his operation and he only tolerated my presence because you asked him."

  "Asked?" He snorted. "Ben isn't the sort of man you ask to do anything. You have to tell him—and maybe he'll do it."

  "He said he was your nephew."

  "Did he?"

  "Is he?"

  "In the ways that matter? Yes."

  Jack decided to leave that line of questioning alone. Whatever the story, he wasn't getting anything else out of Besian. "So Julio Jimenez…?"

  "There's been friction between Julio and Lalo since last summer. Lalo wants to grow, but Julio is easily threatened by the potential power shift. When Lalo put pressure on that prick kid of Dan's, the kid folded and told him all about the camera and other shit Flea had stolen from Mando's house. The rumor had been circling that Julio had been behind that hit and that he had used the ghost to do it. When he found out there was a video out there? Lalo jumped on the chance to take that juicy fucking bone right back to El Jefe."

  "Lorenzo Guzman?"

  "The one and only," Besian confirmed. "Lorenzo doesn't want trouble with Romero. Trouble with Romero means trouble with his partner Maksim Prokhorov—"

  "The big boss out of Russia?" Jack tried to keep all the details straight.

  "Yes. If Romero leans on Maksim, Maksim leans on Nikolai who—"

  "Will be forced to get nasty with Lorenzo here in Houston," Jack guessed.

  "Yes, and if that happens, Nikolai will start calling in favors."

  "You're on that list?"

  "Don't you fucking know it," the Albanian groused. "That's the price of doing business."

  "But what was the beef between Julio and Mando? What tipped this off?"

  "You remember that kid who got run over by the motorcycle and dragged after that concert in April? The hit-and-run where the kid got smacked by three or four cars before someone finally managed to grab him and drag him out of the road?"

  "That was Mando on the bike?" Jack cringed at the awful images the description created. "I saw the news piece. He was sixteen?"

  "Sixteen and Julio's godson," Besian said. "I heard he was actually the kid's father, but who knows what's true."

  Jack couldn't even imagine the pain of losing a child. He thought of how much he loved his brothers and how sick he had been when he had gotten the word about Finn and the IED. To lose a child in such a brutal way? To have your flesh and blood smashed by a bike, dragged down a block and ripped to shreds and then left to die?

  No, Jack wouldn't have hired a hitman. That was a score he would want to settle himself.

  "This whole fucking mess could have been avoided." Besian shook his head. "Nikolai told Romero to give Mando to Julio as a peace offering, but he wouldn't fucking listen. No, he sent cash. Cash! Can you believe that? Money to honor a blood debt? What a fucking outrage!"

  Jack had always heard that Besian and his men were big on the idea of blood debts and their code of honor. "Pop said Romero was always protective of Mando."

  "Yes. He did more to shield Mando than he ever did for his own kid. He left Vivian holding the bag—literally—but kept from Mando from doing a bid in the pen by offing a witness."

  "Why?"

  Besian shrugged. "Who knows? Some bonds can't be easily explained."

  Thinking of the bond he shared with his brothers, he asked, "Where is this meeting happening?"

  "Why? You planning on sending the Connolly Army to do recon?"

  "Marines," he corrected. "We were Marines."

  "Sorry."

  "And yes," Jack replied honestly. "Abby's life is in my hands. If she has to be here tonight, I want my brothers watching her back."

  "And yours?"

  He nodded. "And mine." Thinking of the hostage that had been taken, he added, "And Marley's."

  "You let me worry about her."

  Jack's curiosity got the best of him. "Why?"

  "Because." That was far from a reason but Besian obviously wasn't going to give any further details. Jack began to suspect the hardened criminal might have a bit of a soft spot for the auburn-haired beauty. Not that Besian had much of a chance with someone like Marley…

  "Tell your brothers to meet us at the lot to the south of the meatpacking plant where we had the tournament." Besian eyed him carefully. "Tell them to stay out of sight—and to keep their weapons holstered. The bosses—me, Nikolai, Romero and Lorenzo—have all agreed this is safe territory. No one gets hurt tonight."

  As he t
exted Kelly with the info, Jack had a bad feeling that the bosses' well-laid plans to keep everyone safe were about to turn to shit.

  Chapter Twelve

  "You need to breathe."

  I glanced at the terrifying Russian sitting in the passenger seat to my left. Kostya spared a concerned glance before shaking his head. "You're going to pass out and become another problem for me to deal with tonight."

  The SUV driven by the three-fingered man I had learned was named Arty slowly rolled into an empty lot behind some abandoned warehouses. "I'm trying."

  "Try harder," Kostya replied.

  "Sorry. I just—I'm not used to shit like this."

  "That's a good thing. That's the way it's supposed to be for nice girls like you." He gestured around the SUV. "This world of mine has a way of hurting sweet women."

  "You say that like you've seen it happen it a lot."

  "Too many times," he murmured and reached for his door handle. "You stay here until I come to get you."

  Not waiting or expecting an answer from me, Kostya exited the vehicle. I squeezed my shaking hands between my knees and tried to calm my racing heart. My stomach swirled with anxiety and fear. Glancing out the darkly tinted window, I watched as more vehicles rolled onto the lot. Suavely dressed men in suits poured out of them.

  But my gaze zeroed in on the welcome sight of Jack—my Jack. In jeans and a T-shirt, he looked so out of place next to Besian and the other men from Houston's criminal element. He held the video camera and scanned the area, looking for something. For me.

  His gaze landed on the SUV. I jumped when Kostya knocked on the glass. A second later, the door opened and he gestured for me to join him. I slid down and kept close to the Russian's side. Fighting the urge to run to Jack, I walked slowly but fixed my gaze on his handsome face. His encouraging smile strengthened me.

  We were so close to getting out of this mess. All we had to do was hand over the video, swear we would never speak of what we had seen, and then we could go back to our normal, boring lives.

  Or, at least, that was the plan.

  "Come here, sugar." Jack drew me tight to his side. His lips pressed to my temple as he wrapped his arm around my shoulder. I inhaled the comforting scent of him, the manly mixture of cedar and denim and leather. "Are you really all right? You're not hurt?"

  "I'm fine, Jack. I swear."

  He studied my face as if to gauge my sincerity. Physically I was fine, but I was sure Jack could tell that emotionally I was a wreck. He kissed the top of my head and hugged me even tighter. "It's almost over. We'll be home before you know it."

  "I hope so, Jack."

  "Listen," he said carefully, "something happened at the pawn shop."

  I jerked back with fear. "Jack—"

  "Flea is dead." He didn't try to ease into the truth. "Mark and your security guards were drugged, but they're fine. Dan and his son stole the decoy camera, and then one of the cartel guys found them there. He shot Flea and kidnapped Dan, Leonard…and Marley."

  "What! Marley?"

  He nodded and dipped his head, whispering right into my ear. "Did you know her stepdad is bad news?"

  My ears perked to the rumbling sound of approaching motorcycles. "Yes, I knew. Something tells me we're about to meet her stepdad in the flesh."

  "Yeah." Jack didn't sound happy about that. "Whatever happens, you stick close to me, Abby. If this goes bad, you do exactly what I say. Understand?"

  "Yes." I had never been happier to be tucked away in Jack's arms. No matter what happened in the next few minutes, he would keep me safe.

  Scary looking guys on motorcycles rolled onto the lot. I recognized Marley's stepfather. He had a long dark braid that ran down his back, so long it touched the bottom rocker on his leather vest. The once-white patch was now yellowed with age and dust but big bold letters claiming their territory as the entire state of Texas remained clear. He flanked another man—the president of their chapter—and had two others trailing him.

  A last SUV pulled up next to the motorcycles. There was no mistaking Romero Valero. Though he looked decidedly more clean cut than the terrifying prison mug shot that had been plastered all over the media in early January, he was still a frightening guy. I couldn’t believe that harsh-faced man was Vivian's father. I didn't know her that well, but she was just so delicate and beautiful. It seemed impossible that that guy had sired her.

  The power brokers of the group walked to the center of the loosely shaped circle we had formed. Kostya, Besian, Romero and a guy I didn't know but assumed was Lorenzo Guzman stood close and talked. Their voices were loud enough that I could hear most of the discussion.

  "Nikolai has extended his protection. He expects there will be no problems here after the evidence of the hit is turned over," Kostya stated. "He doesn’t care what happens to Julio or the hitman. He just wants it done outside of Houston."

  "That won't be a problem," Lorenzo assured. "This has gotten too public for my tastes."

  "Lorenzo can do whatever he wants to Julio and the hired gun," Romero said rather graciously, "but I want to talk about reparations."

  "Reparations?" Lorenzo turned to the man who had once worked for him and now challenged his authority. "For what?"

  "You killed one of my men. The rules on hits inside the city are clear. We need a green light from the council to proceed. After that shit in December—"

  "This wasn't my call," Lorenzo insisted. "This was a rogue action that has no ties to me."

  "No ties to you?" Romero repeated with disbelief. "He's your right-hand man in Houston."

  "And he did this without my approval or consent," Lorenzo replied. "If you're going to try to use this to squeeze me—"

  "Hey," Kostya interjected cautiously, "why don't we take this up at the council meeting? Get all the bosses together and discuss it then," he suggested. "I don’t have voting powers. I'm only here to represent my boss."

  That seemed to quell the dispute for the moment. Rather reluctantly, Besian stepped forward. "Listen, Romero, something happened earlier, and it involves your—"

  An engine roared behind us. We all jerked around just in time to see a big white SUV racing toward our ring of vehicles. At the last second, the SUV made a crazy turn and slammed into the line of parked motorcycles. It bounced over them, crunching the expensive bikes and dragging one of them all the way into the middle of the circle. The bosses and Kostya dove for cover, hitting the ground hard and rolling out of the way. Jack lifted me up off the ground and spun around with me in his arms, curling his body around mine and shielding me from whatever hell was about to break loose.

  A door opened, and a woman screamed. Marley. I didn't even have to look. I knew it was her. Terrified for my friend and employee, I tried to wriggle out of Jack's grasp, but he clamped down hard. Without a word, he reminded me that he was stronger and determined to keep me whole.

  Behind us, men shouted angrily in Spanish. I picked out the voices I recognized—Romero and Lorenzo—and deduced the third belonged to an irate, crazed Julio. Every time Lorenzo tried to calm him down, Romero would goad Julio with the ugliest things. Besian interjected himself into the argument, his Spanish nearly perfect, and tried to get Julio to stop waving around his weapon. It was clear that Besian wanted to head off a catastrophe. With all the firearms tucked into pants and hidden under jackets and vests, it would only take the slightest twitch to set off a firefight.

  The crack of a gunshot startled me. I jerked in Jack's arms as Marley screamed. Reacting instantly, Jack held me tight to his chest and carried me to a safe position behind the nearest vehicle. Finally able to see what had happened, I spotted Marley standing on shaky legs, her face and hair splattered with blood and Lord only knew what else. Julio had dropped to the ground behind her, his legs jerking as blood gushed from a massive head wound.

  Another gunshot and then another snapped in the night. The sniper who had tried to kill us at the arts center was back—and he was gunning for every single person at th
e rendezvous. Blindfolded and bound, Marley couldn't escape. She flinched when a bullet whizzed by her head, slamming into the SUV next to her and shattering the window.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Besian rushing toward her. He swept her up in his arms and raced toward the vehicle we were using for cover. Another gunshot echoed in the night—and the Albanian mob boss flinched and grimaced. He mustered his strength and all but tossed poor Marley right at Jack who caught her easily and pushed her down next to me.

  Clutching his bleeding chest, Besian fell forward onto the hard ground, his body bouncing as his knees impacted the dirt. Jack didn't even hesitate. Despite the absolute hell the other man had put his family through, my sweet Jack proved what a hero he was by racing out to save Besian. I wanted to scream with sheer terror as bullets snapped around the man I loved but I just held onto sobbing Marley and prayed Jack would get back to me in one piece.

  Crack. Crack. Crack.

  Thwap.

  A different sounding gunshot, this one low down and higher pitched, followed a series of quickly fired rounds from the sniper. I heard a loud thunk a few seconds later. Craning my neck and daring to peek over the hood of the car between me and the gunman, I spotted the sniper in question sprawled on the dirt. He had fallen from the rooftop of a warehouse.

  I looked back in the other direction and discovered Kelly and Finn next to warehouse behind us. The youngest Connolly brother held a pair of binoculars while Finn rose from his kneeling shooting position with his rifle pointed safely away from us.

  For a long moment, no one moved or said a word. Finally Jack shouted, "Someone call an ambulance. Now!"

  Kostya had a phone clamped between his ear and shoulder when he dropped down beside Jack and started to assess Besian's gushing wound. Beside me, Marley whimpered. I peeled away the blindfold and untied her wrists and ankles. Dazed and in shock, she blinked at me. Her eyes filled with tears, the shiny drops spilling onto her cheeks.