In her case, she was bullied because everyone at her school considered her the freak no one wanted, the girl who had failed to be adopted, unlike her sister, Mia, who was scooped by a family within weeks of being placed at St. Vincent’s. Not so for Chloe. For eight years, she had been passed over time and again by dozens of families seeking a child of their own, and as such, she was considered broken. Worthless. At school, she was reminded of that daily.
The only person who alleviated the shame and burden that came from all of this was Carmen, whom she loved and who was the only reason she hoped to survive now. What they said about her being an assassin was a lie. She decided she didn’t believe it. She wanted her relationship to continue with Carmen, who had been nothing but good to her, so she decided she would make an effort for that to happen.
Within reason.
Here, in this museum of grossly expensive cars, of which there had to be sixty or more, all gleaming under a single spotlight strategically placed above them, she’d seen a few opportunities on her way to the bathroom and to the water fountain that gave her a trace of hope that she might be able to shake things up in her favor.
Keeping her face a stoic mask, she had started to process those opportunities in ways that might help her to escape should a window open and present a wedge of freedom to her. Not that she expected that to happen. In her life, windows didn’t open. Things always seemed sealed shut.
Knowing that, she knew herself well enough to know that she wouldn’t be kept like an animal forever, regardless of how much she cared for Carmen and wanted to see her again. She wasn’t afraid of taking risks—or facing her own death, for that matter, which she thought would have happened years ago when her mother brought home that idiot who struck her with a frying pan and did other unspeakable things to her and her sister.
But she also knew how to be calculating when it made sense to do so. As it did now.
The warehouse in which they kept her held two possibilities for a way out. She’d seen the exit, which was to her right and probably twenty yards away. Was it locked? Of course it was, but that didn’t mean under the right circumstances it couldn’t become unlocked.
Still, accomplishing that would be difficult, if not impossible, which is why she liked her other choice best, the one that involved using her mouth, the box she noticed on an earlier trip to the bathroom and how each of those, coupled with the Russian’s precious sports car collection, could be used to get her the hell out of here.
When they first arrived, the Russian employed two armed men to guard her. But as the hours passed and the men grew restless, they suggested in front of her that they should take turns watching her. They asked the Russian if this was acceptable, he agreed to it, and now one of the guards was resting somewhere in the rear of the warehouse. From where she sat, she had no idea where he was because the space was too deep. She couldn’t see him, which likely would become an issue.
The man at her right had been with her for several hours. A rifle was slung over his left shoulder. He held a gun in his right hand, which was perhaps a foot away from her. Maybe less. As for the Russian, he was working his phone, calling people, pacing between his cars, looking agitated while cooking up a plan she supposed had to do with her.
But why her? She had no idea why she was here, though she heard him say Carmen’s name a few times, so somehow it had something to do with her. But why was Carmen caught up in this? It didn’t make sense to Chloe.
She reached up her cuffed hands to brush her hair out of her face. The guard standing beside her looked down, then looked away. He was a brute—tall and built, his broad chest straining against his black T-shirt—but he was starting to look fatigued to her, which was good so long as he didn’t decide it was time to wake his buddy and tell him that it was his turn to watch her. If that happened, she’d have someone refreshed standing beside her. More alert. She decided that if she was going to do this, she needed to act soon, because she feared if she didn’t, things would be more difficult for her.
What the man standing beside her didn’t know is that each time she lifted her hands to her face or bent down to scratch an itch that didn’t exist on her ankle or calf is that she was seeing how much range of motion she had with her hands cuffed in front of her.
It wasn’t ideal—she couldn’t reach her back, for instance—but she expected that and it wasn’t much of an issue when it came to pulling off what she had in mind.
She looked over at the Russian, who paced in front of his fancy cars while talking on his phone some thirty feet away to her right. Did he have a gun? She wasn’t sure. When he was near her earlier, she couldn’t see any signs of one, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have one concealed beneath the jacket he wore.
She listened to his conversation and wondered who was on the other line. He was giving directions to the warehouse and for the first time, she knew where she was. She was in Hell’s Kitchen on West Forty-Sixth Street, right off Eleventh Avenue near the Hudson.
The irony that she was in Hell wasn’t lost on her.
“It’s better that we do it here,” she heard him say. “Here makes sense. The girl already is onsite, which takes care of the hassle of moving her out. Also, Carmen doesn’t know I own this space. It will be neutral ground for her. You need to bring her here.”
There was a silence while he listened. “That’s fine,” he said. “How long before you land? You’re landing? OK. How soon before you can have her here?” Silence. “I’ll see you both in an hour. I like your plan, Vincent, but you need to be mindful of the cars. My collection is here. When you arrive, you’ll see cars everywhere and I don’t want anything to happen to them. Is that clear? Nothing can happen to them. When you take them down, I want it to be quick and clean, with nothing happening to my cars. That’s right. They’re that expensive. And fuck you on whether I have them insured.”
He severed the connection, pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his inside jacket pocket, and it was then that Chloe saw the holster and his gun. He lit one of the cigarettes, exhaled over his head in a plume of billowing blue smoke that crowned one of the lights, and took to his phone again. He was so deep in thought as he tapped out numbers that she knew if she didn’t act now, she’d miss her moment.
It all came down to timing. Everything did in life. She knew that when she left her mother, which probably saved her life. Could she beat death twice?
Time to find out.
Resolved to go forward, her heart quickened in her chest. Adrenaline cut through her like spears, pricking every part of her until she felt fully alive in the face of death. She took a breath, thought it through, memorized the space again and then acted.
She reached down as if to scratch her ankle, glanced to her right, saw the guard’s bare arm holding the gun at his side—and then she made her move as quickly and as viciously as possible.
In a flash, Chloe Philips’s teeth were buried in the man’s forearm. With everything she had in her, she sank her teeth in deep, she met bone, she carved through the thick muscle and tore off a piece of his forearm. She spat it out on the floor, felt blood gush into her mouth and willed herself not to get sick from the sheer amount she swallowed and which now covered her. Stunned by the act, the man dropped his gun, which Chloe picked up just as he was about to kick it across the floor.
Instead, his foot connected with her left shoulder, which seemed to crumble due to the sheer momentum behind the kick, but not before she had the gun held clumsily in her hands and stuck out in front of her. He shouted out in rage and in pain, and then for help, but Chloe Philips, born to the streets and bullied for much of her sad, rotten life, knew she had him even before she aimed shakily at his head and put a bullet through his throat.
Surprise filled his eyes. He looked genuinely shocked when he fell to his knees, which cracked from the force of the fall. Blood spurted onto the concrete floor. He covered the wound with his hand, but since Chloe hit his carotid artery, there was no saving him or stopping the
rush of blood that pulsed through his fingers now.
She was aware of movement on either side of her. Katzev and the other guard. Time was of the essence even though time had seemed to stop.
For the moment, there was one thing left to do.
In spite of the pain in her shoulder, Chloe rolled onto her stomach and looked at the metal box attached to the wall at the far right of the water fountain. It was the breaker box. Had to be given all the thick wires sinking into it and snaking out of it. Just as Katzev lifted his gun at her, Chloe took aim at the box, put a bullet through it and winced as sparks flew into the room.
Instantly, the warehouse was plunged into a darkness so thick and black, she couldn’t see anything but her own memory of the space.
She scrambled to her feet, held the gun out in front of her and moved blindly behind one of Katzev’s cars. The pain roared in her dislocated left shoulder. She bumped against the car and winced. Would the alarm go off? It didn’t. She hid behind the car. She listened and she waited.
In spite of the dark, he’d come for her now. So would his guard.
But she had a plan for that, too.
CHAPTER TWEN
TY-SIX
“Max,” Babe said after the knock came at the door it. “That will be Vincent. You know what he looks like. Check the security monitor and make certain it’s him before you open the door. He’ll want to be off the street quickly, so let him in as soon as possible and bring him to us.”
Max nodded and left the room.
Babe looked over at Carmen with concern on her face. “I feel as if you need us,” she said as Carmen and Jake stood. “I don’t think we’ve done enough. I don’t like this idea of you going in alone with Vincent—and not because of Vincent. But because Katzev is duplicitous. We both know it’s not going to be just him and another guard wherever you’re meeting him. He’s going to have a team waiting for you. This is a set-up. Doesn’t that concern you? I know you’ve thought this through.”
“Of course, I have,” Carmen said. “But what can I do? Gelling is dead. Gone with him are the names of the syndicate he was trying to compile for me.”
“Have you thought of calling Gelling’s assistant, Frank? You know, that enormous man with the watch that covers his bum eye? He’s been with Gelling for years. He might know something.”
Carmen looked defeated. “When I used the restroom a moment ago? I called Frank. He says he has no knowledge of any list.”
“That’s just bullshit,” Babe said. “That man knows everything about Gelling. He wiped the man’s ass, for God’s sake. I don’t believe it for a minute.”
“Neither do I. But without his help and without that information, I have nothing to blackmail Katzev with. He has the upper hand with Chloe. He knows I’ll do anything to keep her safe. Like it or not, as neutral as all this is supposed to be, he’s running the show.”
“But you have Liam,” Babe said. “You have Katzev’s family right in the palm of your hand. Certainly, that’s something. One call to Liam and they’re lives are on the line. That’s got to trouble Katzev. Liam could kill the man’s mother, for God’s sake.”
“I don’t think he cares for any of them, Babe.”
“Why?”
“Because they aren’t the syndicate, which is his world. It’s what he built with Jean-Georges and what paid off so well for each. You saw Liam’s video. As rich as Katzev is, his family is struggling. The house behind them was in need of repair. There wasn’t a single one of them who looked affluent.” She held up a finger. “But wouldn’t they if Katzev was helping them? For whatever reason, he’s not. I think he made a conscious decision to distance himself from them. When it comes to saving the one thing that’s made him the wealthy man he is today, they don’t mean a damn thing to him. They come last.”
At that moment, Spocatti was ushered into the room. Carmen looked over at him and couldn’t help a feeling of relief. He was dressed in a black T-shirt, black jeans, and a black jacket to hide whatever he was carrying. He wore black shoes with the sort of soles that could dig into pavement or concrete or hardwood while giving him plenty of traction to run should he need to.
She hadn’t seen him in a while, but age hadn’t touched him. He still had the masculine face of a boxer, which he used to be in his youth, and the dark brown eyes she remembered so well because they seemed to reflect the darkness of everything he knew and had created during his lifetime. His full head of dark hair gleamed with whatever product he had in it. He was fit and tanned from his time in Capri, and, seeing him now, she thought he was a force. The presence he brought into the room was something few possessed, but which he came by naturally.
He nodded at her.
Before she could return the gesture, Babe said, “Vincent.” She walked over and moved aside his extended hand so she could give him a fleeting embrace, during which time she kissed him on each cheek before parting from him. There was something about the way she leaned into him with her right foot raised behind her that told Carmen everything she needed to know about their relationship. Here was the young assassin with whom she said she once had an affair. Here was the man who opened her eyes to the dangerous life she had led for two decades.
“How was your trip?” she asked.
“Busy.”
“And Capri?”
“Busier.”
“You look well.”
“We’ll see how I look tomorrow morning.” He looked across the room at Jake, who was standing in front of one of the red chairs. “Jake,” he said.
“Vincent.”
“In some trouble yourself, I hear.”
“I’d like to join you tonight,” he said. “I’d like to help. Katzev also came after me. Carmen can take him out, but I want him to see him die.”
“Can’t. It’s just me and Carmen. That’s the promise I made to get to Chloe. But I appreciate the offer.”
“It’s not just going to be the two of you,” Babe said.
“I’m aware of that.”
“Then let him help. He has very good reasons for wanting to see Katzev dead.”
“It’s not going to happen, Babe. Besides, Carmen and I can handle Katzev and the boys. We’ll get Chloe out and then deal with the rest of them.”
“Who’s going to collect Chloe?” Jake asked.
“She’ll be told to run.”
“If that’s the case, wherever you’re meeting them, I can be parked along the street and collect her when I see her.”
“But you won’t stay in your car, Jake,” Spocatti said. “We both know that. We both know you want your own revenge against Katzev and the syndicate for trying to knock you off. I get it. They came after you. They nearly killed you. But this is Carmen’s night. If anyone puts a bullet through Katzev’s face, it’s her.”
“I won’t interfere. I just want to watch.”
“You’re too hot right now. I don’t believe that.”
“Why are you shutting me out?”
“I’m not shutting you out. I made a deal with Katzev. He agreed to see me and Carmen—period. This is not personal, so stop behaving as if it is.” He looked at Carmen. “When we tell Chloe to run, do you think she’ll be all right? On the streets, I mean. Will she be safe?”
“She’s tougher than she should be at her age, but nothing will help her if he has men outside waiting for her, which is a possibility.” She looked over at Jake. “Maybe we need to rethink this. What he’s proposing isn’t a bad idea.”
“It’s just us, Carmen.”
She felt another sting of worry for Chloe. She was becoming increasingly uncomfortable with how this was unfolding. She tried again. “I think we should reconsider.”
But Spocatti held firm. “I don’t. Here’s why I’m fine with it being just us. Katzev has been told that if anything happens to either of us—or to Chloe—that I’ve contacted friends who will track him down and take him out at once. These people are loyal to me. I’ve saved their lives. They’ll do it without he
sitation. I’ve told Katzev that. I think we’ll be fine, but I agree. We need to be prepared if he does something stupid.”
“Prepared how?”
“We need to be alert.”
“That’s all?”
He didn’t answer.
“Where are we meeting them?”
He looked at Babe and Jake. “No offense to you two, but I need to tell her in private.” He checked his watch. “Get your gear. Babe has everything you need in her basement. We leave in ten.”
“You two go to the basement,” Babe said to Carmen and Spocatti. She wasn’t used to being shut out so harshly and she looked angry because of it. “Take what you need. I’m having a drink.”
* * *
When Carmen and Spocatti left eight minutes later, loaded with concealed guns and pockets full of ammunition, they thanked their host, who stood to walk them to the door, but they said nothing to Jake, who sat in one of the red chairs, pointedly looking away from them. He was furious with them. It was clear. It wasn’t until Spocatti and Carmen left that Babe immediately swept back into the parlor in a hurry.
“That girl’s not going to be all right,” she said. “Where are you parked?”
“Just down the street.”
“Perfect. Max!” she called. “Grab my running shoes. Quickly.”
She started to kick off her shoes, but kept her eyes on his. “They’re getting a cab,” she said. “We have moments before we lose them. I’m assuming you have useful things in your car? Things that will be meaningful if pointed at someone’s face?”
“I have a trunk filled with just that.”
Max entered the room with her running shoes, which she stepped into.
“They’ll catch a cab on Park, which isn’t far away. I don’t say this lightly, but I don’t agree with Vincent. I don’t know why he’s being so unreasonable. Somebody has to be there to grab that girl when she’s released from the building. Otherwise, I don’t know what will happen to her. And what’s the point of all of this if somebody doesn’t help her?”
From Manhattan With Revenge Boxed Set Page 21