Take Me

by Anna Zaires, Pepper Winters, Skye Warren, Lynda Chance, Pam Godwin, Amber Lin

  I shook my head and tried not to laugh as I dumped the phone’s packaging into the trash, activated it, and dialed a number from memory.

  “Hey Eddie-boy,” I said into the phone. “It’s Arden.”

  “How goes, LT?”

  “I’m retired, asshole,” I reminded him.

  “You’ll always be my lieutenant.”

  I honestly wished he wouldn’t say that.

  Edward McHenry, or Eddie-boy as everyone called him, was the communications guy during the first mission I commanded and the only mission I commanded that turned out favorably. We bonded just because we both grew up in southwestern Ohio, and his was the first friendly face I saw after I was brought back from the desert.

  “Well, how about you do your friend a little favor?”

  “Anything you want, LT,” Eddie-boy said.

  “Phone records,” I said. “From the past week from six different people. Just numbers and shit will do, but if you got VOIP logs, that would be awesome.”

  “Give me the numbers,” Eddie-boy said.

  I rattled off the phone numbers.

  “I need this quick,” I told him. “Super quick.”

  “You paying super much?” Eddie-boy asked with a laugh.

  “What happened to all that ‘oh, my lieutenant, my lieutenant’ shit?” I asked.

  “You should have gone for the promotion, war hero,” Eddie-boy responded. “It just doesn’t flow like captain does.”

  I sighed.

  “Wire transfer?”

  “Naturally.”

  “On its way,” I said. “Half now, half when your information proves good. Double if you get it in the next hour.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  I could practically see him saluting.

  It cost a shitload of money, but the information received fifty-two minutes later was definitely worth it.

  I checked out Jonathan first and was glad to see that he ordered a pizza on his way out of Rinaldo’s office and spent the next three hours exactly where I would have expected – on the internet, watching porn. I scrolled through the other numbers he’d dialed and other areas his GPS had tracked him, but found nothing the least bit suspicious, and I was glad.

  I took a deep breath and happened to glance up at a shop window across from Millennium Park. In the window was a “Save Ferris” T-shirt from the Ferris Bueller’s Day Off movie. Jonathan always took shit for his last name because of it, but I couldn’t resist the irony, so I popped inside and bought him one. His birthday was coming up.

  For better or worse, Terry was also clean. I had full speech-to-text logs on him going back a month, which was actually kind of handy. He’d gone from the Moretti household to some shit bar by Dearborn Park and hung out with two friends he called along the way. They were still there – or at least his GPS equipped phone was. I wasn’t going to have time to go through all his logs until later, but it would be convenient if I ever needed anything on him.

  The third one I checked was Steven Hobbs. He did a lot of the grunt work when it came to siphoning funds from the world of electronic payments and turning it into cash that could be used anywhere. The man probably had three hundred bank accounts, credit card accounts, and ACH routing numbers in his pocket at any given time. He was paid well for his services, though he could probably just pay himself any time he wanted.

  There weren’t any phone logs, but there was one call that looked a little strange. Someone called him from a payphone across town – not an area of town where my boss’ people were usually to be found. It didn’t make him a rat, but he went to the top of my list.

  I went through the family next with a bit of trepidation. Bad news to a family like the Moretti’s was likely to go from no Christmas card next year to an all out war in just a couple of minutes if the wrong words were said. The last thing I wanted to be was the catalyst for a family war. Fault or not, I’d be one of the first casualties.

  The two in question were second or third cousins to Rinaldo and not close in the family business. Close enough to not be stupid, I would have hoped, but they didn’t have their fingers in all the little pies Moretti had going. They had been at the house to see Luisa – Rinaldo’s fair daughter. Like Jonathan, she had a birthday coming up apparently, and they were all planning a cruise somewhere in the Mediterranean.

  I made a mental note to come up with a suitable gift.

  All the family members checked out, too.

  Even Steven Hobbs’ boss checked out, which left me – interestingly enough – just the one real suspect. I wondered if I might actually get that lucky that quickly. It was possible.

  I needed more intel.

  I called Eddie-boy back and got Hobbs’ location – a bar over on North Michigan Avenue – and quickly made my way over there. I recognized the guy at the end of the bar when I walked in, but he didn’t look up or notice me.

  Hobbs was a chunky guy, mid-thirties with bad skin and greasy hair. He was just the sort that spent his life trying to make up for all the times he was picked on in grade school. I had no patience for the type, but that didn’t make him my traitor. If nothing else, I would have expected him to be a little more nervous. Who would betray a mob boss and then sit in a grubby bar with a Miller Lite in his hand?

  It wasn’t long before a woman joined him. She had short blonde hair, a skinny ass, and ridiculous heels – definitely not my type. She sauntered up to Steven and practically sat in his lap. The music was up a little, and I couldn’t hear her at first. With practiced subtlety, I moved around the bar and sat with my back to both of them where I could hear pretty easily.

  “So, no calls from work?” the blonde was asking.

  “I told you, Maria, I did everything I needed to do earlier,” Steven responded. “Part of what I like about working for Moretti – I get to set my own hours.”

  “He’s a demanding boss, though,” Maria said. “Maybe you’ll get a call about him.”

  She kept asking questions, and the dumb-ass kept answering them for her. At one point, she said the words I needed to hear.

  “So, how is Mario’s mother?”

  “I don’t know,” Stephen said. “Once he left Moretti’s place, I didn’t hear from him again. She went to the hospital in Gary – that’s all I heard. Why do you care so much, anyway?”

  Why, indeed?

  She flirted and kissed on him for a while and then claimed she had errands to run and would meet up with him again later. As she left, I tossed some cash down on the table for my seltzer and followed her.

  She wasn’t all that bright.

  “He hasn’t heard a thing,” she said into the phone as she walked away. “Tell Gavino no one is on to him – we’re good to go.”

  It was all I needed to hear. I didn’t even wait – I just moved up behind her while she was still distracted and on the phone. She hung up and started to rummage around in her purse for her keys. By the time she got the car door open, I was on her.

  An elderly couple and a bum on the sidewalk both watched me as I grabbed her by the arm, covered her mouth with my other hand, and shoved her into her own car. I didn’t care who saw me – eyewitnesses were unreliable at best – and the one person who was sure to remember me later wasn’t going to live long enough to tell anyone about me.

  I also just didn’t care. It wasn’t like I was going to go to prison for anything. If I was caught, I’d either be acquitted or dead. Prison wasn’t going to enter into it.

  Before she really grasped what was happening, I punched her once on the side of the face to stun her, then grabbed her keys and got the car going. By the time I pulled into traffic, I had my gun to her head.

  “No words unless I ask you a question, and no movement – you understand?”

  “Y…y…yes!”

  “What’s your name? And don’t say Maria.”

  She didn’t respond until I touched the business end of the Beretta against her temple.

  “If I hit a pot hole, you’re dead,” I inf
ormed her. “You might want to answer my question so I can concentrate on my driving.”

  “Nina,” she said quietly. “Nina Carson.”

  I knew who she was immediately. Killing James Carson is what had me sent to Arizona, and Nina was his sister. Greco was doing her cousin on the side.

  “Take out your phone,” I instructed.

  With a shaking hand, she did as I said.

  “Now call up Mister Hobbs and tell him you need to see him right away.”

  “But…but I just left him…”

  “Tell him to meet you in the parking garage of the Chicago Sun Times.”

  “The garage?”

  “You heard me.”

  She swallowed a couple of times, and I had to wonder what was going on in her head. She wasn’t new to all this, that much was sure. It was entirely possible she knew exactly who I was, but not likely.

  She made the call like her life depended on it, so maybe she did know who I was. She followed directions and told Steven right where to meet us but not why. She gave nothing away and sounded very convincing.

  Proper little liar.

  I pulled her car into a handicapped space in the parking garage next to a small, metal door. I kept my gun at her face, moved backwards out of the driver’s side door, and then brought her through with me.

  With her upper arm firmly in my grasp, I moved her past the piss-stained cement walls and to a small door. I twisted the knob, and it opened easily. Inside the room there were three chairs on the floor, a rusted metal toolbox in the corner, and a bare light bulb hanging from the ceiling.

  I placed her in one of the chairs and grabbed both her wrists in one hand. From the toolbox I extracted plastic zip ties and secured her hands behind her.

  “What’s going on?” she asked. The panic in her voice was rising. I still didn’t think she knew who I was, but she was getting the idea. “Please, I won’t tell anyone–”

  I gagged her with a rag from the toolbox, made a quick call to Rinaldo, and then waited at the door. Steven Hobbs arrived just a minute or two later, and I called out to him.

  “Looking for a girl?” I asked. I beckoned with my hand. “She’s in here.”

  The moron came right to the door, where I hauled him in and gave him a slight push towards Nina. He stumbled a little, turned, and looked at me quizzically as I closed the door behind us.

  “What…what’s going on?” Steven asked.

  “Have a seat.” I indicated the folding metal chair next to his girlfriend.

  “Maria?” he said quietly.

  “Try Nina,” I corrected.

  He just stared, confused. He was an idiot, like all men who did more thinking with their dicks than actually putting them to their natural use. I didn’t even have to ask him about his past. I knew it as well as I knew my own.

  Overweight in school, bullied on the playground, and always picked last on the team. He always thought he was much smarter than those who hazed him and thought that someday he’d have a great job and they’d have to grovel to him instead of laugh. Instead, he got a mediocre job, no date for the prom, and was now being used by a woman who probably hadn’t even let him come in her.

  I raised my gun and indicated the chair again. He sat and stared at me with wide eyes.

  It was only a few minutes before I heard the sound of additional cars parking just outside the little office room. Footsteps followed, and then four short raps on the door. I took a step backwards to open it.

  Rinaldo, Mario, and Terry Kramer were outside of the door.

  They wasted no time in letting Hobbs know exactly why he was there.

  “Mario, this man here decided it was a good idea to tell your family business to his piece of ass,” Rinaldo said to his bodyguard. “What do you think of that?”

  “I think he’s an inconsiderate man,” Mario said sternly.

  I didn’t really care for the games at this point. They were both going to have to die, and we all knew it. I never understood dragging it all out for the dramatic effect. Wasn’t that the same sort of mentality that always screwed up the comic book villain’s plans?

  They went back and forth between berating him and administrating a little light torture until Steven was blubbering about how he didn’t know anything about her. He went from defending her to accusing her in a short amount of time, and she struggled against her tied hands and gagged mouth as he told them everything she had said and done.

  She used him to get information about Moretti’s movements and gave that information back to Greco, who just waited for the proper time to use the information to eliminate the competition and take over his businesses. Fortunately for Rinaldo, I had been there to stop it from happening.

  “She was nice to me!” Steven finally cried out as Kramer broke another knuckle.

  Terry laughed.

  “I believe Mario would like to take care of this man himself, Evan,” Rinaldo said.

  “Yes, sir,” I replied.

  “I could help–” Terry started to say, but Moretti interrupted him.

  “Shut up, Terry,” he said softly.

  At least Terry had the good sense to listen.

  Mario hauled Steven up by the back of his collar and hauled him out of the small office. Terry followed, leaving Rinaldo in the room with me and the girl tied to the chair.

  “Mister Arden,” Rinaldo said quietly. He waved a hand over at Nina. “Would you finish up please? Not here, though – this place is a bitch to clean.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Nina’s eyes were big as I hauled her up out of the chair. Comprehension was washing over her face, and if she hadn’t known who I was before, she definitely knew me now. Whether by name or not, she knew who I was to Rinaldo and his organization.

  Still in shock, she barely struggled as I hauled her out of the little garage office and back to her car. She did whimper a bit as I opened the trunk and shoved her inside, but I couldn’t blame her for that. It was the last ride of her life after all.

  I turned off the radio as I drove down to the water. It was late, and there wasn’t much traffic as I crossed the West Grand Avenue Bridge and then drove down a side street. It was a short trip, and I didn’t want to listen to half a song. I pulled into a little drive area with a big sign that said the area was under twenty-four hour surveillance.

  Sometimes they just made it easy.

  I barely had to aim since I had shot out this particular camera so many times. It shattered into pieces all over the asphalt as I got back into the car and headed to the parking lot just south of the bridge. I pulled up close to the building and parked in the shadows.

  Nina struggled as I pulled her out of the trunk and onto her feet. She didn’t come close to breaking away from my grip, and I wasn’t sure where the hell she thought she was going to go, anyway. The building was inaccessible, and there was nothing here but gravel and the edge of the river. Even if she did make it the full five-hundred yards and over the fence without me catching her – which she wouldn’t – what was she going to do? Hide in one of the nearby ocean containers?

  My grip on her upper arm tightened, and I hauled her down to the edge of the water. There was a ledge between the building and the water where boats could come up and exchange supplies if any of that shit still happened today.

  “Please…please don’t,” she begged. Her nails dug into my knuckles, which stung a bit.

  I didn’t answer her; I wasn’t really listening. I’d heard it all before – the pleas, the promises – they meant nothing to me. I had a job to do, and I was going to do it. Nothing she said was going to make any difference in the outcome.

  “Go on,” I said. I gave her shoulder a little push ahead and got her walking while I followed closely behind. I wanted her under the bridge where it was darkest. If someone did happen to hear the shot, I didn’t want to be visible from Chicago Avenue. She tripped over the asphalt once in her high heels, but I kept a hold of her so she wouldn’t fall onto the concrete.

/>   No reason to die with skinned knees.

  “Why? Why?” she asked over and over again.

  As if she didn’t know.

  We made it to the spot on the ledge in the combined shadow of two buildings and a roadway. I positioned her close to the edge, where there was less than a ten foot drop into the river. She looked over the edge and into the water, turned around, and dropped in front of me. She reached out to me with her hands, like she was trying to reach the hand of some god she saw in my eyes.

  As if she’d find salvation there.

  I looked down at the pricey heels on her feet, now covered in mud, and the designer dress strangling her twiggy figure. I pulled my Beretta out of the back of my jeans and fitted the end with a silencer. There wasn’t any reason to make unnecessary noise.

  “Please,” she cried. “I’ll do anything you want – I swear!”

  Tears streamed down her cheeks as I raised the barrel of the weapon to her face. There wasn’t any reason to drag it out – that would just be cruel.

  I pulled the trigger, and her body slumped sideways. One shove from my foot sent her into the water. She’d be found, no doubt – probably before morning. It wasn’t about making her disappear – it was about making sure Greco knew what had happened to her.

  With the Beretta down the back of my pants again, I climbed into her car and drove it out to the airport to leave it in long-term parking, and then I took the L back into town.

  I loved riding the trains and buses in Chicago. I was a people watcher, and it was always entertaining as hell to be on public transportation with anything from a drunk, crazy homeless guy to an equally crazy high-class, sorority bitch. If you were lucky, the two would run into each other and some kind of explosion would ensue.

  No such luck this time, though. All the nuts must have taken the night off. Instead, I ended up leaning back in the seat and closing my eyes. I didn’t drift off or anything – I still couldn’t sleep – but my mind started wandering.