by CJ Lyons
But sooner or later, he and Devon were going to have to have some kind of reckoning.
Ryder spun Tyree around, and Devon saw his opening. He scooped up the discarded weapon and lunged at Tyree, shoving the gun into Tyree’s neck so hard it forced the taller man’s chin up.
“Where’s Esme?” Devon demanded. “I’m going to count to three, and you’d best tell me before then or—”
“Price, drop it,” Ryder ordered, his own weapon now trained on Devon. The distant wail of sirens underscored his words.
“I wasn’t trying to kill you,” Tyree said. “You know me, Runt. I wanted them dead, they’d be dead. It’s Leo Kingston wants you and the lawyer dead,” he told Ryder, his words tumbling over themselves in his rush to get it out. “He was going to send one of his pet cops to do the job, but I don’t want any part of killing cops. That’s serious shit, and it never goes well. But Leo, he’s crazy. Thinks cuz his dad’s half-dead he’s gonna inherit the family name and with it all the power, like he’s freakin’ Teflon coated, bulletproof and all.”
Devon backed off, untangling the truths from Tyree’s assorted lies. Tyree would have no problem killing cops—as he’d shown Devon earlier. He glanced at the gun Tyree had used: Devon’s own .45. He’d been going to pin this on Devon, hadn’t planned on Devon actually being in the company of a cop and prosecutor. Neither had Devon, but he liked how it worked out.
“Slow down and tell us everything.” Devon kept his gun trained at Tyree’s head. “Starting with, where is Esme? Does Leo have her?”
Tyree shook his head. “No way I’d let that psycho anywhere near her. But he knows where she is. Said she was going to be in his hands by tonight. That’s why I had to play along, didn’t want him to suspect that as soon as she’s safe, I’m done. He’s done.” He straightened, baring his teeth, the old Tyree, leader of the Royales, back in full force. “I’ll kill the bastard with my bare hands. No one touches my family. No one.”
“Leo killed Jess and Sister Patrice?” Ryder asked.
“Not him, but two of his pet cops. Under his orders. Esme saw him grab his latest girl. Told Jess, but she was too scared to come to me, so she called him.” He jerked his chin at Devon. “Fat lot of good it did her. When he didn’t call her back, she asked Patrice for help, thought she could hide them from Leo.”
“Guess that didn’t work out so well,” Devon said with bitterness. Now he knew why Tyree had tortured the cop before shooting him with Devon’s gun. Which meant the asshole had had this info all day and still hadn’t been able to find Esme. “And fat lot of good you and your gang did, letting her killers waltz right in and out of the Tower.”
“If she’d told me—”
“Shut up, both of you.” Ryder turned to glance out the alley. Two patrol cars had arrived. Near the bar a group of people had gathered, including Jacob and Angela. The lawyer didn’t seem too bad off. Angela had his coat and jacket off and was wrapping a bar towel around his arm. “We don’t have much time. Can you find out where Esme is before Leo gets to her?”
Tyree shook his head. “I know where Leo is, but you’ll never get to him.” He nodded at Devon. “He’s using one of his dad’s favorite spots from when you were a kid.”
“Me?” Devon frowned. “I never went with Kingston—”
“Sure you did.”
Stray wisps of memory pinched at Devon. A woman crying out his name, a tall white man, the sound of flesh slapping flesh… no, no, no, don’t look, don’t listen, it’s the devil, the devil… Mrs. Anders’ voice intoning prayers, trying to exorcise the demons from Devon and his mother.
“The Tower greenhouse.” The words scraped free of Devon’s lips before he could swallow them back. Eyes of a devil watching, his mom would say. Not eyes, the light from the heaters filtered through the thick foliage. The acrid smell of fertilizer mixed with the sweet smell of earth and dying. “He’s in the greenhouse.”
“You’ll never get to him there. Not without my help.” Tyree shook his arms, the handcuffs rattling. “Lose the cuffs, and I’ll take you to Leo.” He stared directly at Devon as if Ryder wasn’t even there. “I’m the only one who can get you your daughter back.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” Ryder said.
Devon realized there was only one way to play this. He shifted his aim, pointing his gun at Ryder. “Drop your weapon. And uncuff Tyree. We’re going to get Esme back.”
Ryder raised his gun at Devon. Standoff. But Ryder didn’t pull the trigger like he should have—like any other cop would have. Instead, his face tightened as if he’d arrived at the same unsavory conclusion as Devon. “You think that’s the only way?”
Devon nodded, wishing he didn’t have to involve the cop. But he couldn’t see any way around it. “Only way that won’t end up with innocents dead.” He aimed his chin across the street where Angela and Jacob were talking to the patrolmen. “I can go it alone if you promise to buy me some time.”
Ryder lowered his weapon. “No. Too risky. You’ll need help if you’re going to get Esme out alive.” He scowled at Tyree. “Someone you can trust.” He holstered his gun. “Let me handle my guys. I’ll meet you in the alley at your car.”
Devon yanked on Tyree’s cuffs, tugging him away from the street. It would take only a few minutes to circle past the cops to the alley behind the bar.
“Hey, aren’t you going to take these off?” Tyree protested.
Ryder was halfway out of the alley, the dog trailing after him. He looked back over his shoulder. “Not until you deliver us to Leo.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Ryder jogged across the street to the rapidly growing crowd on the sidewalk in front of the bar. Many carried drinks, flaunting the city’s open-beverage law as they satisfied their curiosity. Even more were on their phones shooting video and tweeting. By morning, Jimmy’s Place would top the list of the city’s most notorious hot spots.
He grabbed the first uniform he saw and sent him and the others in the opposite direction from the way Price and Tyree had gone. Then he stopped to check on Rossi and Voorsanger. The lawyer had taken some shrapnel from flying concrete and had glass in his arm, side, and scalp, but Rossi already had the worst of it bandaged.
“I’ve never been shot before,” Voorsanger said in a stunned tone, his body swaying. Rossi gestured to Ryder, and between them, they got the lawyer down on the steps, his head between his knees before he could pass out.
Ryder had to try hard not to smile.
“Still haven’t,” Rossi told her ex. “Most of it was just glass. You’ll need to be cleaned up and some stitches, though.”
“Oh,” Voorsanger said in a weak tone without looking up. “Did you catch them?”
“Got away,” Ryder lied. Thankfully, the ambulance arrived, and Rossi went to fill in the medics.
He didn’t like not telling her everything, but there was a damn good chance he might not make it back, and he couldn’t risk her doing something stupid, like coming after him and Devon.
“Where’s Devon?” Voorsanger asked. “The dog made it back, but where’d he go?”
Even wounded and woozy, the lawyer had a sharp eye. Ozzie sat patiently beside him, waiting for Ryder.
“Listen.” Ryder pitched his voice low. “We have a lead on Esme. I’ve got to go. Can you keep an eye on Rossi? Make sure she stays safe at the hospital?”
Voorsanger glanced up, his face pale but his gaze clear. “You and Devon, you’re going after Leo? Alone?”
“No other way. Leo’s in the Tower, up on the roof in the old greenhouse. That means seven stories of Royales and Leo’s crooked cops to get through, all without risking the civilians who live there or Esme.”
“Not very good odds.”
“No. That’s why we’re going to use me as bait. Leo sent Tyree here to kill you and me, but Tyree wanted no part of it, which is why we’re both still alive. He can get us into the Tower, and together we’ll deal with Leo and get Esme out again.”
V
oorsanger frowned, taking in the implications. “That list of names you gave me. Good cops, you said. Maybe we should—”
“Too risky. Not with all those civilians.” Ryder stood. Voorsanger climbed to his feet as well, less wobbly. Ryder handed him Ozzie’s leash. “Take care of the dog.”
“What do I tell Angie?”
Ryder grimaced. Met the other man’s gaze. Voorsanger nodded. “I won’t tell her anything.”
“Best that way.”
“Good luck.”
Ryder didn’t answer as he took off down the alley to meet Price and Tyree. He didn’t believe in luck. He believed in his men, his training, and God.
As he approached Price’s black Town Car, he realized he was going into a situation where none of the three might be able to save him.
<<<>>>
I knew from experience that Jacob made a lousy patient. When he got sick, he’d retreat to his bed and ignore my medical advice, relying instead on his mother’s long-distance diagnosis and home remedies given over the phone from his parents’ retirement villa in Boca. Then I’d end up slaving over a stove, following her recipes for his favorite comfort food.
Tonight was different. Getting shot at seemed to have brought out his inner John Wayne, because he insisted on walking to the ambulance and climbing onto the stretcher without help. Ozzie jumped in with us before the medics could protest or I could find Devon to take the dog.
Ten minutes later we were at Good Sam’s ER, bypassing triage and straight to an empty bed. Shari, the same nurse who’d helped me last night with Ryder and Sister Patrice, entered the room warily. “Another gunshot victim?”
“Not really. Cuts and abrasions from flying glass and concrete.”
“The bullet ricocheted,” Jacob told her merrily, drunk on adrenaline. He held up his hand, thumb and forefinger measuring a small distance. “Came this close to hitting me.”
Behind him, I shook my head, but Shari took it in stride and smiled at Jacob. She undid the pressure dressings I’d applied at the scene and began her assessment.
“His tetanus is up-to-date, but those lacerations are going to need to be debrided and sutured,” I told her. Then I lowered my voice. “He hates needles, will try to convince you just to superglue them, but—”
“Don’t worry, Dr. Rossi.”
“I’m going to check on my kids from last night,” I told Jacob. “Ozzie might cheer them up.”
He looked up, a sharp expression edging past his smile. Poor guy hated hospitals. “You’re leaving?”
“Just over to the Advocacy Center. Don’t worry, you’re in good hands.” I patted his arm. “Anyone wants to amputate anything, give me a call. I have my phone.”
“Ha ha. You think you’re funny, but I know what really goes on in places like this.”
I left him telling Shari the story of the great gunfight at Jimmy’s Place and headed over to the Advocacy Center with Ozzie in tow. No sign of any press. The officer on duty examined my credentials before allowing me inside.
The kids were wide awake, chasing each other around, over and behind the furniture so that I couldn’t keep track of them. I didn’t go in. Merely opened the door and let Ozzie loose, eliciting squeals of delight as they pounced on him. Ozzie sat patiently, tail thumping as they stroked and patted and hugged him, while I went to the observation room to talk with the nursing assistant on duty.
“They’ve been fine,” she told me. “Slept most of the afternoon and have already eaten five times today. Your orders said to feed them whenever they asked, so I hope that’s okay.”
“It’s normal for kids like this to have altered hunger and sleep cycles. Any food hoarding?” Another symptom of social deprivation.
“Yes, but I cleaned it all out when they were asleep and then fed them as soon as they woke. Amazing how they do everything together. But, my, they’re hard to keep track of, keep huddling up.” She looked past me through the window. “Guess it’s good they have each other.”
I was engrossed in the psychologist’s notes, more interested in the prognosis and paying no attention to the children. The psychologist thought they’d recover in time, but she cautioned against separating them too soon. Justification for me to keep them here, where they’d be safe.
Satisfied, I closed the chart. Now for the hard part. “You okay if I leave Ozzie here?”
“Sure,” the nursing assistant said. “They love him, makes my job all the easier.”
“Thanks.” I left before she could ask me where I was going or for how long. A good thing, since I didn’t know the answers. It all depended on how close to dead Daniel Kingston was.
My stomach knotted with dread. Every step I took as I climbed the two flights of stairs to the ICU felt like eternity thudding down on my shoulders. But stuck here, it was the only thing I had left to try. Devon had thought Leo would take Esme to the same place Daniel used to take his mother—how could I not try to find the answer?
At least then, he and Ryder could save Esme. Even if it meant exposing my secret to the world.
Maybe not a bad thing. I was tired of all the secrets I was carrying. Not just mine; Devon’s as well. But I couldn’t judge him or betray him, couldn’t even argue that I’d do anything differently if our places were reversed.
The glass doors to the ICU swooshed aside with a breath of chilly air that raised goose bumps on my arms. The last two times I’d done this, Devon had had to pull me out. Without him near, could I free myself from Daniel’s mind before it was too late?
Or would I be sucked into that maelstrom of eternal black forever?
<<<>>>
Flynn sat by Daniel’s bedside, hidden in the shadows, unable to bring herself to believe that he’d betrayed her, chosen Leo over her. The man had been like a father to her these past three years, had shared secrets with her that he’d never risk with his own son.
It had been the drugs Leo gave him. The PXA. He wasn’t thinking straight. He couldn’t have been. He didn’t mean she was nothing to him. That her only value lay in serving Leo.
Was she just being foolish and stupid? Or maybe she just wasn’t strong enough to handle one more betrayal. Nonsense. She was strong enough to defeat death; she could handle anything. It was Daniel who had taught her that. Gave her the strength and confidence to build a new life.
She drew on that strength now to face the truth: Daniel had never given her all those impossible tasks to accomplish because he had faith in her. No. He’d done it because she wasn’t family.
She was expendable.
Flynn stood. Time to prove him wrong.
She didn’t want to leave him, but what choice did she have? When he woke, Daniel would hate her for stopping Leo once and for all. But it was the only way to protect the Kingston name. Wouldn’t Daniel want that? And if he never woke, then Leo won… She couldn’t let that happen. This had to stop. Tonight.
It felt as if time was throttling her, its death grip marking the seconds prolonging her agony. Torn between holding vigil over Daniel and killing his son.
She’d finally gathered the strength to leave when she spotted a familiar figure walking through the doors of the ICU. Doctor Rossi coming to save Flynn, just like she had three years ago.
Rossi had changed. She still had that head-up, shoulders-back stride, as if she owned the world, but tonight her eyes appeared haunted. Flynn felt the same. Had ever since Leo had moved back in with his father and begun his campaign of terror.
“Dr. Rossi. Do you remember me?” Flynn asked, certain the answer would be no. After all, she was no longer the ice-cold, drowned teenager fished out from the river. The girl who’d stolen a gun, forced Creepy Wayne to the wharf, struggled with him, the gun going off, both falling, falling into water darker than night. Blood everywhere, tumbling, clawing, sucking in water instead of air. Both of them dead, dead, dead.
Creepy Wayne had stayed dead. Somewhere at the bottom of the river, washed away, just like Flynn’s former life.
Rossi g
lanced at Flynn. At first she frowned, puzzled, then a welcoming smile lit her face. “Of course. Jane Doe Flynn.”
There’d already been one Jane Doe in the ER on the morning Flynn arrived, so instead of making her a number, Rossi had given her the name of the tugboat captain who’d rescued her from the frigid waters of the Cambria River. He’d been one of the best men Flynn had ever known. Died of a heart attack while piloting a barge to Pittsburgh last December. “How are you?”
Good question. How to tell the woman who saved your life that the new one you’d built—based on the lies you told her—was as a killer?
“Still have trouble with the cold.” She raised a gloved hand and waved it. Daniel was the only person outside the hospital who knew the gloves weren’t just an affectation. They protected her fingers, their nerves permanently damaged by frostbite, leaving her in constant pain.
Rossi frowned in concern. “Reflex sympathetic dystrophy? Tricky to treat. They couldn’t find any meds that helped?”
Flynn shrugged. “I need to ask you a favor.”
“Of course. What?”
“I saw you there. In the tunnels. Last night.”
Rossi blinked. “You were there?”
“I’m the one who pulled the girl to safety. Someone was shooting at her.”
“You have Esme?” Rossi lurched forward, eyes wide. “Is she okay? Where is she?”
“She’s safe. I need you to take care of her.” Flynn turned away when a nurse came to check on Daniel and led Rossi back outside to the empty corridor. “Look. You need to know. It was the police who shot her mother and that nun. She wouldn’t tell me any more, just that there were two of them.”
“Why would police kill Jess and Patrice?”
“Leo Kingston sent them. He was threatening Tyree Willard, something about a stolen ring. Leo’s been kidnapping women from the Tower, raping, torturing them. Killed two so far. At least. Probably more I don’t know about.”