Play Hard

by V. K. Sykes

  He glanced at his watch and frowned. It didn’t make sense that she wasn’t already here by now. It was going on an hour since he’d left the stadium. He tried to zero in on the game, but he barely knew which teams were playing.

  After fifteen more minutes, Jake’s gut was shrieking at him. But he tried to tamp down his anxiety, thinking maybe she had missed his voicemail and gone to his place.

  He speed-dialed her cell phone again, but it rang until her voice mail kicked in. That sent his worry rocketing up. Why the hell wasn’t she picking up? She would know it was him from call display. He paced the floor of her tiny living room, waited two minutes and tried again. Voice mail.

  Maddie was in trouble. He knew it as surely as he knew his own name.

  Jake grabbed his jacket and headed for the door as he called Robbie’s cell. Voice mail there, too. He left a terse, cold message demanding a call back, then bolted from Maddie’s apartment and down to the garage.

  * * *

  If Jake had needed any confirmation that Maddie was in trouble, he’d gotten it in her garage. Her car, with the window down, keys still in it, and her bag on the floor, was parked in front of the garage door, leaving barely enough room for a car to get around it. He’d frozen when he saw it, and it had taken him a few seconds to get his pounding heart under control. Logically, he should have probably called the police, but he knew that would only delay things. The fastest way to find Maddie was through Robbie, and the cops definitely would not approve of Jake’s methods of extracting information from the little prick.

  Robbie’s place was only about a mile or so from Maddie’s. With little traffic on the roads and some luck hitting green lights, Jake made it in four minutes from the time he threw himself into the Tahoe and maneuvered around Maddie’s car. Screeching to a stop in front of the high rise apartment building, he parked illegally and barged through the front door. His heart still thudding, he punched Robbie’s number into the intercom.

  Robbie’s surly voice responded on the crackling intercom. “Yeah?”

  “It’s Jake. Let me in. Right fucking now, Robbie.”

  Several long seconds passed as Jake shifted from foot to foot. Finally, the door buzzed and he was through and into the elevator in a heartbeat. Getting off at the fourteenth floor, he jogged down the hall and hammered his fist twice on Robbie’s door. Robbie opened it just a crack, keeping the chain latched.

  “Open the fuck up, Rob.”

  “Jesus, it’s midnight, man. And I’m beat.”

  Jake gave him a lethal stare. “Don’t make me ask you again, or this door’s coming off its hinges.”

  With a dramatic sigh, Robbie unlatched the chain. Jake pushed the door open as Robbie backed away. “Where’s Maddie?” he growled, fisting his hand into the front of Robbie’s tee shirt. “I swear to God, if you’ve done something to her—”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Robbie yelped, trying to twist out of Jake’s iron grip. “I don’t know where she is. I left her a long time ago at the park. That’s all I know.”

  Fuck that bullshit. Jake gave Robbie a hard shove, and the little man fell backwards onto the carpet in the narrow hallway. Jake dropped along with him and jammed a forearm across Robbie’s shoulders, pinning him down. As Robbie struggled wildly to dislodge him, flailing his legs and rolling his hips, Jake straddled his body and easily clamped him down.

  “Tell me what’s happened to her,” Jake snarled. “You’ve got ten seconds, and then I’m going to start beating the crap out of you.”

  Robbie’s eyes flicked side-to-side in terror. Jake meant every word he said, and Robbie knew it. “Jesus, I don’t know! Let up, will ya? You’re gonna break my goddamn collarbone!” Robbie’s eyes filled with pain, but Jake felt no sympathy for the man he’d once called friend.

  “You think this hurts? I’ll break every bone in your pathetic body if I have to. Maddie’s been kidnapped from her building, so you’re going to tell me what you know and damn quick.”

  Robbie stopped struggling, shock written large on his features. Jake slightly eased his grip.

  “Oh, Jesus, man. All I know is Nazarian said he’d take care of it. He didn’t give me any details.” Robbie’s voice cracked. “Jake, I don’t want her to get hurt, but she was going to take me down!” His bloodshot eyes filled with a coward’s tears.

  Jake had always believed he could never kill a man, but right now he had to resist the primal impulse to throttle Robbie until his eyes rolled back in his head. But he clamped down hard on his murderous rage, because he had to stay in control or he’d never get to Maddie in time.

  “What’s Nazarian going to do to her?” he asked through clenched teeth, tightening his grip again.

  “I don’t know! Maybe he’ll try to sweat her a bit,” Robbie whimpered. “You know, to get her to back off.”

  “Where would he take her?”

  When Robbie hesitated, Jake dug his knee into the bastard’s bony hip.

  Robbie let out a choked cry. “Who the hell knows?”

  Jake increased the pressure on his collarbone. “Don’t make me ask you again, Rob.”

  “Christ! Okay, okay, he hangs out most of the time at a club he owns called Fannie’s, down on 12th Street. And he has a place in the Italian Market he uses as an office.”

  Nazarian wouldn’t likely take her anywhere near his club, Jake thought. Too public, especially at this time of night. “Where’s the place in the Market?”

  “In back of a meat store on the east side of 9th, south of Christian. The place has a green metal awning out front. I met him there once, and he told me to use the back alley to get to the office. There’s a meat market sign on the back of the store.” Tears were streaming down his face. “Honest to God, Jake, that’s all I know.”

  Jake suspected he was telling the truth this time. Robbie reeked of fear, probably thinking Jake might well kill him in his rage. He wasn’t far wrong.

  “You’d better start praying that nothing bad has happened to her,” Jake said. He pushed to his feet and stared down at the pathetic excuse for a man huddled on the floor. “This isn’t over, Rob. And if Maddie’s been hurt, I guarantee that you’ll never be able to run far enough that I won’t find you.”

  Jake left him in a shaking, crumpled heap as he raced out to catch the elevator. Every muscle and every nerve screamed to find Maddie, and the thirty second wait until the doors finally opened practically killed him. As soon as he got down to the lobby, he punched in Nate’s cell number and his friend answered on the first ring.

  “Maddie’s in trouble, man. Where are you right now?”

  “Having a beer at Antonini’s. What kind of trouble? What’s going on?”

  “No time to explain. Can I swing by there and pick you up in about three minutes?”

  “Sure. I’ll head out front right now and wait for you.”

  “Thanks, buddy.” Jake hung up and threw himself into the front seat of the Tahoe.

  As he’d promised, Nate was standing in front of Antonini’s as Jake barreled along South Street and jerked to a stop in the middle of the street. Nate clambered into the passenger seat and strapped himself in.

  “Christ, Jake, what the hell’s going on?”

  Jake slammed the gearshift into drive. “Maddie’s been kidnapped, and I think I know where she is.” He screeched away from the curb. “And if I do, I figure I’m going to need your help.”

  “Kidnapped? Jesus, have you called the cops?”

  “No time. Nazarian got her a while ago. And by the time the cops got to her apartment and saw her car abandoned…and even then who knows whether they’d do anything at this point.”

  Nate swore. “Let me guess. Robbie.”

  “Yeah. You in for this?”

  “All the way,” Nate said without a second of hesitation.

  Jake blew out a tight breath. “Thanks. We’re close to the Italian Market, right?”

  “A few blocks south and east.” Nate gave him directions, a
nd then brooded for a few moments. “I’m sorry I came to you about Robbie. Fuck, Jake, this is on me.”

  “No way. It’s Robbie’s fault. And I was an idiot for protecting him.”

  Nate grimaced. “You were just trying to have a friend’s back.”

  “Yeah, that’ll teach me.”

  “We all make mistakes, man. Don’t beat yourself up.”

  Jake appreciated the sentiment, but this mistake might end up getting Maddie killed.

  Don’t even think about that.

  Nate grabbed a hand-hold and braced himself as Jake swerved the SUV hard around the corner. “Hope these guys don’t carry too much firepower,” he said, righting himself after the screeching turn. “I left my Uzi at home tonight, which was clearly an oversight on my part.”

  Jake gave his friend a wry half-smile. If there was one guy he wanted by his side in a fight, it was Nate Carter. He never backed down from anybody, and he had the size and power to be truly intimidating. Jake wasn’t sure what life had been like for Nate growing up in Brooklyn, but whatever had happened, he’d come off the streets and into the major leagues with a tough-guy reputation that had only grown throughout his career. There wasn’t a guy in the majors any more who dared to charge the mound after being buzzed back by a hard pitch from Nate. Those who had tried learned the hard way that Nate’s fists were even quicker and harder than his fastball.

  Jake had no doubt he was going to need that kind of help tonight.

  Chapter Twenty

  Maddie stirred as car doors slammed shut in the alley. She didn’t know how long she’d been left in the dark, having forced herself as best she could into a trance-like zone. Not very long, she suspected, although she’d pretty much lost track of time.

  She sat up straight as a complicated mix of fear and relief surged through her, banishing the lethargy that had gripped her in the aftermath of panic. The gruesome wait had come to an end. She just prayed that what followed wouldn’t be worse.

  The door unlocked and the lights flicked on. She flinched and closed her eyes against the sudden glare.

  “Take off the gag.” A new voice. Joey Nazarian—the bastard.

  A calloused hand cupped her jaw while another one ripped off the duct tape in one quick motion. She cried out a curse. It felt like half her skin had come off with the tape. Her eyes popped open but she had to squeeze them half shut when the overhead lights blinded her.

  After a few tense moments, her vision finally adjusted and she warily studied the man who lounged against a desk, several feet away.

  Joey Nazarian surprised her. She’d heard about him—he fancied himself a big baseball expert and fan—but had never run into him at Patriots’ games. He was surprisingly good-looking, almost model handsome with his wavy black hair—glistening with an overabundance of gel, she noted distastefully—dark, hooded eyes, and a strong Roman nose. He was built, too. Under his black leather sports jacket he wore a tight, lavender-colored T-shirt that stretched across a powerful chest and flat abs. His tight jeans emphasized long, muscular legs.

  He sure as hell didn’t match Maddie’s pre-conceived notions of what a bookie should look like. Even the scar that ran down from his right temple would be seen as more sexy than sinister. But when he opened his mouth to speak, she blinked, stunned.

  “So, Maddie Leclair,” he said in a high-pitched, whiney voice as her kidnapper watched from her right, “you’re the bitch who wants to put me out of business. We need to talk about that.”

  Damn. He sounded more like a silly cartoon character than a man who stood over six feet tall and was as muscular as an athlete. It was weirdly disconcerting and almost amusing, but she kept her lips clamped tightly shut, afraid if she opened her mouth she’d let out a semi-hysterical laugh. That would not endear her to Joey Nazarian.

  She gazed back at him, as calmly as she could. Semi-hysterical laughter aside, she suspected her best strategy would be to talk as little as possible.

  “I guess you must be having an orgasm just thinking about bringing me and Benton down,” Nazarian said with an ugly leer. “You’d be a real heroine, saving the purity of baseball by exposing rotten pieces of garbage like us. Well, I’m afraid I’m going to have to mess up your plans, cutie-pie, because it’s not going to happen. One way or another, the only stories you’re going to be writing about Robbie Benton are how great a ballplayer he is.”

  Cutie-pie? Who the hell talked like that anymore? Nazarian was sounding less like a hard-bitten mobster and more like an extra from Rocky and Bullwinkle.

  “Really? Sorry to disappoint you, Joey,” she replied. “But I’m not backing down.”

  Rage flashed across the bookie’s face, and he suddenly morphed from cartoon guy to scary guy. If she wasn’t tied up she would have kicked herself. So much for sticking to her strategy of no talking.

  “Tough, are we? A real hard-ass reporter type. Well, you’re going to have to rethink that position, Maddie,” he snapped, moving to stand in front of her.

  He loomed over her, trying to intimidate her. It was pretty damn effective, but she had no intention of letting him know that. She stared silently back at him, determined to keep her expression impassive despite her roiling stomach.

  He snorted. “All right. Sure, have it your way. But I think you might be interested in this.”

  Maddie started to breathe a little easier. Okay, now he would start dealing. Hopefully he would give her something she could work with, at least to buy time until Jake found her. And Jake would find her. She had to believe that or she thought she would dissolve into a puddle of quivering goo.

  “You got a carrot in your jacket?” she ventured.

  He flashed a model-white smile. “Now you’re getting the picture. Look, one way this could work is I treat this problem as a business expense. You make a problem for me, and it costs me a little to make it go away. No harm, no foul. That’s business, and everybody gets a little of what they want.”

  Maddie nodded politely, just to keep him talking.

  “Okay, let’s say you were to take, say, fifty thousand, and agree to keep your mouth shut about Robbie Benton and me as long as you’re still breathing. How does that sound? An elegant solution, if you ask me. Pretty much a win-win, even if it costs me fifty grand.” He put a finger to his chin and tilted his head, as if he were thinking. “I suppose that makes me pushover, doesn’t it, Fish?” he said to Mr. Goon, who had shifted position and was now quietly standing by the door. “But that’s me. A softie to the core.”

  Maddie swallowed her surprise. The bookie business must really be booming if he could throw that kind of cash around. Or else he was into other stuff, too—stuff he wanted to keep out of a reporter’s line of sight. That idea sent prickles of anxiety dancing up her spine, but she still had a hard time believing he would actually kill her. That would rain way too much trouble down onto his head.

  She took her time responding, pretending for a few moments to be lost in thought. But when the bookie began to look pissed off, she knew couldn’t string it out any longer.

  “I’m afraid not, Nazarian. I’m trying to stop a crime, not commit one. But I have a suggestion for you. Why don’t you just let me go? The longer you hold me, the bigger the problem you make for yourself. At this point, I might be inclined to keep my mouth shut about this particular little incident if you let me go right now.”

  Nazarian’s brows practically disappeared into his glistening hairline. “Jesus, Maddie, I always figured you were smarter than that. But I guess you need a little demonstration that there’s another way to deal with this.” He glanced meaningfully over at Fish, who looked more bored than anything else. “Sure you don’t want to think again?” Nazarian asked in a menacing voice. “Fish can be very persuasive.”

  Maddie’s throat had gone parched with nerves. Hell, yeah, she wanted to think again, but she couldn’t. She just could not agree to take a bribe. And if she pretended she could and then went to the police, Nazarian would deny it all. She co
uld make things pretty uncomfortable for him, but at the end of the day she had no evidence against him, especially since this kind of bookmaking operation could be disassembled and moved in an hour.

  “I can’t,” she responded in a tight voice. “But you should try rethinking things before this gets out of control. You’re not going be able to get away with this, and you know it.”

  His laugh sounded more like a horse’s neigh. “Sure, I will. Nobody knows you’re gone. That’s why I got Fish here on the payroll. He takes care of things very discretely, don’t you, Fish? Nobody even knows we snatched you, and nothing will ever point back to me.”

  Maddie glanced over at Fish. He looked a little pale. He was probably thinking the same thing she was—that he’d forced her out of her car and, in his haste, had left it parked in a half-assed manner inside the garage door. With her purse and all her belongings strewn over the front seat in the most suspicious manner anyone could imagine.

  Yep, Nazarian’s hired gun had screwed up, all right. What blessed luck to end up with maybe the most incompetent muscle in Philadelphia. She managed a casual shrug. “Think whatever you like, but believe me, the best play for you is to let me go. You play the odds, Nazarian. You should be able to figure that out.”

  Nazarian’s eyes went cold and flat, like a shark’s. “Then I guess we’re going to have to move to the stick phase of the discussion.”

  Reaching into the pocket of his jacket, he slowly pulled out a switchblade knife and flicked it open. Taking his time, he squatted down beside her chair so his eyes were more or less level with hers.

  When Maddie got over her shock that he could be so freaking stupid, she almost gagged at the overpowering smell of him—cologne and hair gel, body odor and cigarettes.