by Roxie Rivera
"Do I look fucking stupid? I saw your brother fight during the tournament. Like I need three Connolly brothers up my ass? No, thanks." Ben traced the gleaming wood on the dash. "I mean that it's best for you to stay out of this life. Men like you have a lot to lose if you get caught up in it."
"And men like you? Don't you have anything to lose?"
"Not anymore." Ben inhaled a long breath and stared out the window. "Considering what Besian is doing to keep your woman safe, this is the very least he could have asked of you. Just keep your head down tonight and get the cars to the shipping containers. When it's done, go home and forget it ever happened."
Jack had a feeling Ben had been asked to do much, much more than simply chopping stolen rides and moving hot cars. He would heed the younger man's advice and give the auto shop a wide berth when this was finished.
"You have the gate code?" Jack asked as they pulled up to the guard station at one of the city's new gated community developments.
"They know to let me through," Ben said, leaning over to chat with the guard. When the gate was opened, Jack rolled through and Ben indicated a smaller mansion just inside the entrance. "That one. Pull into the driveway and wait for one of the garage doors to rise."
Jack did as told and slipped into an empty spot inside the five car garage. Feeling claustrophobic as the garage door slid closed, he climbed out of the car and scanned his surroundings. He suddenly wished he had tucked a pistol into the waistband of his jeans or a backup piece in an ankle holster. He didn't like the exposed, vulnerable sensation that crept along his spine and into his chest.
"Ben! Mano!" Flanked by four men, Lalo Contreras emerged from a side door. Wearing a white track suit and dripping with gold chains and diamonds, he looked every bit the stereotypical mid-level drug dealer and enforcer. "Did you bring back my baby?"
"She's happy to see you." Ben opened the rear passenger door and gestured for the cartel man to get inside. "Let me show you the new traps."
Traps? And then Jack finally understood why this delivery had to be made under the cover of darkness.
Standing to the side, Jack indulged his curiosity and watched Ben demonstrate the artfully hidden hidey holes in the car's interior. The entire time Jack had been driving, he hadn't once noticed anything out of the ordinary about the vehicle. Ben used a series of activation steps—adjusting the temperature, lowering the driver's side window and turning on the radio—to disengage the locks on the traps. One tap of his fingers along the door panel and the trap popped open to reveal a space where money, drugs and guns could be hidden.
"It's nice, man." Lalo smiled as he complimented Ben's work. "You really outdid yourself on this one."
"I'm all about pleasing my customers."
"I'm very pleased." Lalo slid out of his car. He snapped his fingers and one of his crewmembers stepped forward with two envelopes, one much thicker than the other. He slapped them against Ben's palm. "One for the shop, and one for you."
"Thanks."
"You always come through for me. I like a man I can trust."
"Come see me if you need anything else."
"Oh, I will." Lalo's attention flicked to Jack. "Can we talk, man? Alone?"
"Sure." He didn't want to speak one-on-one with the drug dealer, but the possibility that the man might have an offer that would help Abby tempted him to cross that line.
Lalo made sure they were alone in the far corner of the garage before speaking. "Let me throw it out there, Jack. I don't know you, but I know about your girl. She's done some solids for my people, giving loans and making fair buys, so I'm going to be straight with you."
"All right."
"That night manager of hers? His kid owes me twenty-five large on a coke deal he fucked. The interest on that?" His hand slid higher and higher, indicating the rising amount. "It's getting out of hand. I can't let the account slide much longer, me entiendes?"
"Yes." His chest tightened as he considered the myriad ways Lalo might collect on Leonard and Dan.
"I know that pendejo thought he could make back that cash by fencing stolen shit that crackhead Flea was stealing from houses in my territory—houses like the one that belonged to Mando Fernandez. Now they're both jammed up and I've got my boss so far up my ass…" Lalo didn't finish the thought. Shaking his head, he said, "I don’t care if you've seen the tape or not. Everyone thinks you have so it doesn’t matter, but you know what does matter? That hit didn't have a green light from the home office. It was a rogue deal."
Rogue? "If your boss down in Mexico didn't order the hit—"
"You know Julio Jimenez?"
Jack knew the man's reputation. "He's the cartel kingpin here in Houston."
"He was," Lalo said, an evil grin twisting his mouth. "That tape is the last fucking nail in his coffin—and I intend to be the one who hammers it in place."
Factoring in another power play made Jack's head hurt. He hated math, and there were a shit ton of unknown values in this equation. If Julio Jimenez had attacked without his boss' backing, it exposed the cartel to a war with Romero, a war Lorenzo Guzman probably couldn't win now that Romero was aligned with the Russian crime presence. The drug lord would want to punish Julio swiftly and get rid of that assassin just as quickly.
So who would strike first? Who offered Abby the most protection?
"Give me the tape, and I'll make sure your girl and her brother are safe. El jefe already has men on the streets looking for the ghost and Julio. We'll snatch them up quick."
Knowing that Besian's outfit and the added guns from the Russian crew were the only ones providing coverage for Abby left Jack hesitant to make any big decisions. If he stepped on Nikolai Kalasnikov's toes, it wouldn't end well for any of them. "I have to discuss it with Abby."
"Do it fast, Jack. This deal ends at midnight."
He detected the hint of a threat. "And then?"
Lalo shrugged. "It's out of my hands. I just follow orders from the big boss."
Jack doubted that very much. Running through the intel again and again, he left Lalo's house and slid onto one of the seats in the SUV waiting outside for them. Ben glanced back at him a couple of times, almost as if he wanted to give Jack some advice, but he kept his mouth shut. Jack would have welcomed the younger but streetwise man's thoughts on the matter but he wasn't about to ask.
Driving chopped and stolen cars turned out to be a surprisingly easy task. After the initial squeeze of panic subsided, Jack approached it like any other unpleasant job. He chose not to think about the poor bastard who had lost his luxury ride to thieves or where the money greasing all these dirty hands would end up and how it might be used. His conscience would never be clean, but he accepted this was the price for the continuing protection Abby and Mattie enjoyed. Now that he knew the full stakes, he believed this was worth the stain on his honor. For the people he loved, he would do anything.
As he carefully steered a sporty coupe up two short ramps into a shipping container, Jack noticed a man standing off to the side. Immaculately dressed in a dark suit, the man lit a cigarette and watched the delivery of stolen cargo. He had seen the man on his two earlier car runs. The guy seemed to be in charge of the show. No doubt he was another of Besian's associates.
"Jack." The gravelly, rough voice called to him as he hopped out of the container.
Getting a bit frustrated with all this talking these criminals wanted to do, Jack nonetheless joined the smoking man in a secluded spot between two containers. A flash of headlights lit up the man's face long enough for Jack to see his black, soulless eyes that seemed so impossibly dark they chilled him to the very bone. They were the eyes of a man who had known unspeakable pain and torment. Judging by the scars on his fingers and face and the wicked tattoo covering his throat, this was a man who had seen a lot of time on the inside of a prison, and not some cushy US pen either.
"Nice job tonight." He took a slow drag on the cigarette. "I don't like allowing outside men into my business but I made an ex
ception for you. Besian vouched for you, and I trust his judgment. If you ever want to make some extra money, let him know. I can think of half a dozen different jobs that would suit you."
"I'm flattered, but no thanks." Jack tried to be diplomatic in his delivery. His radar pinged this guy as bad fucking news. The last thing he wanted was to get caught up in some perceived slight.
"Can't blame me for trying." The man finished his cigarette and stubbed it out on the container. He pocketed the butt rather than dropping it on the ground. Jack doubted very much it was because the man was an environmentalist. More likely, he didn't want to leave behind any DNA evidence.
"Zec?" Ben addressed his criminal counterpart. "We're all done. You need anything else?"
Zec shook his head. "We're good."
They exchanged a few words in their shared language and then Ben motioned for Jack to follow him. An eerie sensation wobbled in the pit of his stomach as he turned his back on Zec. The man's aura just made Jack's damned skin crawl.
Karl drove them back to the auto shop. Jack and Ben climbed out of the SUV, but everyone else seemed ready to get to that strip club for free dances and drinks. He peeled out of the leather gloves and handed them to Ben. The younger man exchanged them for the cell phone he had earlier confiscated and hidden away in his toolbox.
"Remember what I said, Jack. Stay away from guys like me. Go back to your gym. Keep your woman safe. Put a ring on her finger and make lots of fat little babies with her. Whatever you do, Jack, don’t stray to this side of the line. Yeah?"
Jack figured that was sound advice. He shook Ben's hand. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I hope I never see you again."
"Same here, man. Same here."
Safe inside his truck, Jack finally glanced at his cell phone screen. The sight of six missed calls from Finn and Kelly struck fear in his heart. He didn't bother listening to the voicemails. Pulse racing and stomach churning, he started to call Abby, but before he could even dial, Kelly's face popped up on his screen. "Hey!"
"Where the fuck are you? All hell broke loose while you've been gone."
"What do you mean?"
"Someone shot at Mattie, Abby, Finn and Hadley Rivera."
"What? Are they okay?" Jack's stomach threatened to erupt. He swallowed down the bile trying to escape and hoped like hell that Kelly wasn't about to upend his world with unimaginable news.
"Finn's in the ER getting patched up. It's all glass injuries. Some cuts and scrapes," he clarified. "Hadley is fine, but Jesus Christ. Her dad is out for blood and demanding that the police haul Finn's ass in and hold him overnight."
Gripping the wheel until his knuckles were white, he asked, "What about Abby? Mattie?" Kelly waited too long to answer, and Jack lost it. "Kelly? What happened to Abby and Mattie?"
"They're gone."
Silence stretched as Jack tried to make sense of what Kelly had said. "Gone?"
"Finn said the Russians pulled up in an SUV that shielded them from the gunfire. He ran out to save Hadley and went through a window. He heard squealing tires—and then they were gone."
Jack pushed down the panic threatening to overtake him. He had to think clearly. Taken back to his days in the field, he issued his orders. "Stow Bee and Pop some place safe. Get Finn out of the hospital and meet me at the storage locker."
"Done."
The line went dead, and Jack immediately called Abby. His focus intense, he backed out of the parking spot and headed for the pawn shop. It was time to get that bargaining chip and make his deal.
"Jack!" Abby's anguished voice hit his ear. "Oh, Jack! Finn—"
"He's fine, sugar. He's okay." That was just like her to be so damned worried about everyone else. "Are you okay? Is Mattie okay?"
"We're okay."
Relief washed over him. The vise squeezing his heart loosened. "Where are you?"
"I'm not really sure. It's a safe house. That man from the other night—Kostya—he's with us."
He couldn’t have picked a better babysitter for Abby and Mattie than the Russian cleaner. "And Besian?"
"He was here, but he left. He's trying to broker a deal. There's a problem, I guess. He didn't tell me much. Wait. Hang on." Murmuring voices carried over the speaker. "Kostya wants to talk to you."
"Put him on."
The rustle of the handoff filled his ear before the Russian's voice registered. "Did you speak with Lalo Contreras tonight?"
"I did."
"So you know what a fucking mess this is."
"I do."
"Listen, get the tape and any copies you might have made. We're scheduling a meet. I'll call with the details when I have them."
"I don't want Mattie or Abby leaving that safe house."
"The brother? Not a problem, but the girl? She has to come. Lorenzo and Romero will want to look her in the eye to make sure she isn't a snitch."
"She's not."
"I know it. You know it. Now they need to know it. Just get the tape, Jack. The sooner this is over, the better. This city is one sunrise away from descending into fucking chaos."
The phone was handed back to Abby. "Jack, please be careful."
"Baby, don't worry about me. I'm fine. Focus on yourself and Mattie." He swallowed hard. "I'll see you soon, sweetness."
"I love you, Jack."
His eyes closed briefly. "I love you, Abby. So much."
He ended the call and stepped on the gas. Kostya's final words raced through his mind. If the Russian was right and the city was teetering on the edge, Jack feared what that would mean for the people he loved. Eyeing the dashboard clock, he prayed they would make the handover before the dawn of a new day.
Chapter Eleven
When Jack pulled into the parking lot across from the pawn shop a short time later, he instantly recognized something wasn't right. The lights were already dimmed and the CLOSED sign was on the door. During the week, the shop was open until two in the morning. Why had they closed nearly four hours early?
Taking out the extra set of keys he had swiped from Abby's office, he slipped around the back and quietly unlocked the door. When he stepped inside, he tapped at the security system keypad to switch off the alarm—but it had never been set. A wary sensation invaded his chest and settled in his gut. This wasn't right. Marley and Mark were two of Abby's best employees. Neither one would ever have closed the store early and left the security system off.
Glad for the darkness that shrouded him, he crept across the storeroom and cautiously entered the office area. The sight of a motionless body filled him with dread. As he drew closer, he recognized the worn skater shoes and ratty hoodie. He crouched down next to Flea and started to feel for a pulse, but the scent of so much blood stopped him. Recoiling, he rose to his feet and examined the massive pool of dark fluid surrounding the lifeless body. No, he was long gone.
Sidestepping the blood, Jack moved toward Abby's office. The bluish white glow of the computer monitors on her desk illuminated the space. Both night guards and Mark had been knocked unconscious and were bound. The safe was wide open with Mark slumped next to it, snoring loudly. Jack rolled the two guards onto their left sides and checked their pulses. Both men were breathing easily, almost as if simply asleep.
When he rose to check on Mark, he spotted the three syringes in the trash can. Someone had dosed the men with drugs. Leonard? If the kid was running drugs on campus for Lalo Contreras, he would have access to them. Hadn't Abby said he was a pharmacy student? He would have just enough knowledge of medications to be dangerous.
Footsteps in the hallway alerted Jack that he wasn't alone. He crossed the room and flattened himself against the wall adjacent to the door. Ready to strike, he held his breath and listened to the approaching steps. When a shadowy figure stepped into the office, Jack launched his attack. Smacking away a pistol, Jack grabbed a wrist and wrenched it back before using his knee to drive the man to the ground.
"Fuck! Jack?"
Besian's voice finally registered. Though
he was technically an ally, Jack couldn't pass up the chance to dig his knee in a bit harder. He thought of all the pain Kelly had suffered paying off their father's debt when Besian had them by the balls. The Albanian hissed and tried to escape, but Jack kept his hold firm. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Abby told me she had hidden the camera. I had a feeling she would stash it away here. With the security system, the safe and the employees, it's the safest place to keep it when she's busy. Plus the place had already been searched and robbed. The thief wasn't going to come back here. After he hit her house, your house is the next likely target."
Jack eased up and helped the man to his feet. "Looks like you weren't the only one with those same thoughts."
"Clearly," Besian agreed. He pushed the toe of his leather boot against a guard's face. "Are they dead?"
"Sleeping," Jack said. "Drugged."
"Shit." He crossed to the open safe and peered inside. "The jewelry is here. No cash though." Besian glanced back. "The camera?"
"There was a camera in there."
"A camera? Not the camera?"
Jack shook his head. "I found the same model in the box of broken merchandise in the storeroom. I slapped on a smeared barcode label and put in the safe as a decoy."
"Which the thief took," Besian said.
"I don’t think that's all the thief took," Jack replied uneasily. "Marley is missing."
The mobster visibly stiffened. "You're sure?"
Jack wondered at the man's reaction. "Yeah. She was working tonight, and now she's gone."
Besian swore in his mother tongue. "Where are the security tapes?"
"Over here," Jack said, leading him to the adjoining room. He logged into the system using the credentials Abby had let him borrow earlier that morning when he had been reviewing footage from the last few weeks. He clicked through the files and eventually found the tape of the attack that had happened here.
"So there's Dan coming in the front," Jack said, pointing out the older man. The store had been empty inside with one of the guards in the back helping Mark move a mega-sized TV that had been pawned and Marley and another guard up front. Before she could hit the panic button, Dan had pulled a gun and forced them into the office at gunpoint.