He walked behind the bar and picked up the double-barrel shotgun he kept there. “You forget, lass. If she’s after the people who killed her father, I’m already involved, and so is McHugh.” He loaded the gun and placed it on the bar. “I taught you how to use this. Don’t open the door for anyone but me or Palano.”
Andi blinked back the tears filling her eyes. She’d fought a long time to push the memories of that day from her mind. “You weren’t there.”
“I was there before you. Thomas deserved a beating and I gave him one. I would have killed the bastard, except I knew you’d never forgive me.” He headed for the door. “Lock this behind me.”
“Where are you going?”
“To return a favor.”
“If you’re going to see McHugh, I’m going with you.” She reached for her purse.
“You know I love you, Andi, like you’re me own daughter. So I’m asking you to honor that love, lass, and not insult me like that. If all goes well, I’ll return with our markers. The Cobra killed McHugh’s son.”
Andi tossed her purse on the bar. Patrick had been her very first friend when she’d moved to West Hollywood. He’d taken her under his wing and protected her. And he was the one standing at the top of the steps when Gambini carried me out of that basement. “You’re all the family I have, Patrick. Please don’t do anything stupid.”
Patrick grinned at her. “Aye, lass.” The grin disappeared and his greenish-blue eyes darkened. “Don’t forget to lock the doors. No one gets in but me or Palano.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Cherese placed the blowtorch on the table next to the other instruments she’d found useful to solicit information. She’d overdone it with the drugs, and Gambini was still wavering between sleep and consciousness almost twenty-four hours later. He could be faking. Cherese picked up a needle and walked to the chair. “This is going to hurt when you do wake up, darling.” She stuck it in the ulnar nerve running along the top of his hand.
He jerked and moaned, but as soon as the needle was removed, his head flopped to the side. The bastard really is out cold, and even if I wake him, the effect won’t be the same. She wanted him fully conscious.
Her stomach growled, and she realized she hadn’t eaten or slept since she’d jogged back from the park earlier that morning. She moved the table directly into his sight and smiled. If he woke while she was gone, a few hours of looking at the instruments and imagining what was going to happen to him should loosen his tongue. She didn’t plan on killing him until she had Carter there to watch. It was never the killing for her. It was the bravery they all started with, thinking they were strong and would never talk. She enjoyed the slow process of breaking them down, physically and mentally, until each one turned into a shaking, quivering mess, begging and pleading and telling her what she wanted to know. More than that, she enjoyed the stark terror in their eyes when she walked into a room.
Gambini was a proud man, and physically tough. Breaking him will be absolutely delicious.
“I’ll be back soon, lover. Don’t miss me too much.”
~ ~ ~
Tracy pressed up against the wall, flattening herself as much as she could and hoping to disappear into the shadows as the blonde exited the old house, locked the door, and hurried toward her car. Following her had probably been a dumb mistake, and one that would result in her death if she got caught, but the blonde was the only connection she had to the one they called the boss. Another cab behind her this soon might make the woman suspicious that someone was following.
As soon as the car disappeared from sight, Tracy pushed away from the wall and approached the house. As she’d expected, the front door was locked, and she walked around the small building, checking windows until she came to a rotten and crumbling wooden fence. From the looks of the place, no one had lived there in a long time. Slipping through an opening, she quickly approached the back porch, climbed the steps, and tried the door. It was locked. She would need tools, something to pick the lock.
She pulled out her new cell phone and ordered a cab for one block over. Her vigilance watching the warehouse had paid off the night the officer had killed himself. She hadn’t recognized him at the time, but she did the next morning when his picture hit the paper. She knew where the blonde was staying, and the Mercedes wasn’t hard to spot. A shudder went through her. Could she be the voice behind the curtain? The one they call the boss?
Making her way through the crumbled fence, Tracy took off in a jog and headed for the corner to meet her cab. The woman had to be someone high up to scare the officer enough to make him kill himself.
The breeze felt good against her face as she ran. If she turned herself in, she might not feel that way again for a long time—or maybe never, since California still had the death penalty and the man she’d killed had been important. Tears threatened her again, so she slowed and took a deep breath. Didn’t I cry enough for a lifetime after Shamus dropped me off?
She’d had her one day of normal, and it was time to finish it. She wasn’t dead, but she knew what it felt like to be a victim.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
The ticking clock grated on Andi’s nerves until a resounding knock on the front door had her scrambling to the bar for the shotgun. “Who is it?”
“Palano.”
It’s about damn time. She flipped the lock, a sharp retort about cell phones on her tongue, when Palano, Shamus, and two of his brothers walked past her.
“You remember me brothers, Coilin and Dylan. They’ve come to help.”
“Surely, you didn’t leave your mother alone?”
“Finn and Liam are with her. She’s safe.”
Palano glanced around the bar. “Where’s Patrick?”
“He went out.”
“Out where?”
She walked to the bar and flopped onto a stool. “He didn’t say.”
Palano grunted something unintelligible, and Andi avoided looking directly at him. She knew that he was aware of Patrick’s connection to the underground and the Irish mob, and that he knew McHugh. The body count was high already, and if they became involved, it would be even higher. Add to that the people who might want to find the Cobra who would know what she looked like when Andi’s article came out in the morning and it wouldn’t be safe to walk down the streets.
“Where’s your things, lass?” Coilin asked.
Jerked from her thoughts and somewhat confused, she stared at him. “What?”
“Your things? We’ll pack them up. You’re coming with us.”
“Like hell I am.” She stared him down. “I can take care of myself.”
“You want me to throw her over me shoulder and carry her out?” Coilin asked Shamus.
“You wouldn’t dare!” Andi rose from the stool and quickly made her way around the counter and picked up the shotgun. “I told you, I can take care of myself.”
“What say we all calm down and come up with a plan.” Jerry reached for the gun. “And I’d feel a lot safer if you’d put that thing away.”
“Aye”—Shamus pulled out a stool—“Palano is right. And if this woman is as dangerous as he says she is, then we should find her before she finds us.”
“Good thinking, little brother.” Dylan pulled up a seat next to Shamus. “We put a tail on her and find out who she’s working for then move in and take them.”
“Whoa!” Jerry held up a hand. “Having you guys around to protect Shamus and Andi is one thing, but trying to catch the Cobra is totally out of the question. You’re out of your league, and I don’t need more dead bodies.”
Andi caught the sideways glances between the brothers. They were listening, but it was apparent they had already made up their minds. It must be an Irish thing. Patrick is the same damn way. “The story and her picture will hit the streets in the morning, and I think she’ll have more to worry about than us. Let someone else take care of her. Protecting TK is our main priority.”
Jerry’s phone rang, and he answered
it. He listened intently, his eyes darkening and his jaw hardening. “All right, keep me informed.” Ending the call, he met Andi’s worried gaze. “Looks like you were right. Stuart Gambini is missing.”
“Somebody want to fill us in on what you two know that we don’t?” Shamus asked.
Andi reached for a bottle of Jack Daniels and poured a shot. “She’s here to avenge her father’s death.”
“And what does that have to do with you or Gambini?” Coilin asked.
Andi downed the glass and poured another before taking a deep breath and staring at Jerry. “I’m the one that killed him.”
The silence in the room was interrupted only by the incessant ticking of the clock. Andi continued to stare at Jerry, waiting for his reaction.
His voice was low when he finally spoke, and there was an edge of steel behind his words. “You should have told me.”
“You never asked.”
She emptied her glass and started to pour another one, but Shamus reached for the bottle. “I think you’ve had enough, lass. We all need to be clearheaded if we’re going to do this. So what part does Gambini play in this?”
“He’s the one who found me after Thomas was finished torturing me. He took me to an apartment and had me treated by his doctor, hiding me there until I was well enough to walk.”
Coilin sat on a stool next to Shamus. “But I thought you said you killed him, this Thomas character?”
“That was later.” Andi glanced at Jerry again. The emotions playing across his face would have been comical if the situation wasn’t so serious. She knew the question was coming, and he wasn’t going to like the answer.
“What did you have to promise McHugh to get him to track Richard Thomas down for you?” Jerry asked.
“I don’t know. He has my marker, but he hasn’t called in the favor yet.”
Jerry ran a hand across the stubble on his chin, rocking back and forth on his heels. Andi knew he only did that when he was too angry to speak. Owing the Irish mob a favor usually resulted in someone’s death. At the time it hadn’t mattered, and she’d prayed every day since then that McHugh would leave her alone.
“Does Patrick know this? Was he involved?” Jerry’s eyes flashed as he fired the questions at her and waved his arms. “What the hell were you thinking?” He stalked toward the door. “Never mind. The answer has been right in front of my nose the whole damn time.”
Andi shivered as he slammed the door behind him, but she quickly shook it off and smiled at Shamus. “Let’s hear that plan of yours.”
~ ~ ~
Cherese turned off the blowtorch and set it on the table. A short nap and pleasant meal had made her anxious to begin her work. “Let’s try this again, darling.” She ran a hand down the left side of his face. “Tell me what I want to know, and I won’t hurt you anymore.” He grunted, and Cherese jerked the bloody rag from his mouth. “You have five seconds. Who killed my father?”
“Go to hell,” Gambini whispered through clenched teeth.
“You should know, Stuart, just how much I enjoy my work. I can keep you alive for days, or even weeks, trimming off one small piece at a time.” She raised the scalpel and picked up the rag. “It’s your choice, darling.”
Gambini started to chuckle, the sound confusing her. She’d known he was strong and proud, but they all broke eventually. “What’s so funny?”
“Honey, you’re an amateur compared to the people who killed your father. You think you enjoy dishing out pain? You ain’t seen nothing yet.”
She shoved the rag in his mouth and ran the scalpel across the burnt flesh on his chest. “I’ll be the judge of that.” His muffled screams tapered off, and she removed the rag again. “Who killed him?”
“Daniel McHugh and the Irish mob killed your father, you crazy-ass bitch, and as soon as they find you, they’ll kill you too.”
Slow-burning rage caused her hands to tremble as she shoved the rag back into his mouth. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and counted to ten. It wasn’t time to kill him yet, and if she started too soon, the temptation to slice until there was nothing but a mass of riddled flesh would be too intense. A quick kill was too good for him, and would only leave her frustrated. Even if he was telling the truth, there was more to the story. She knew Andi Carter was involved, and before she finished with him, he’d tell her.
The ringing of her cell phone provided the final distraction, and Cherese opened her eyes and smiled at him. “Relax, sweetie, you really have been saved by the bell.”
Cherese glanced at the number before answering. “It’s Sunday, and I’m busy.” Her mouth compressed into a thin line as she listened to the drunken orders. “All right. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
She ripped off a piece of duct tape and slapped it over the rag and across his face. “Duty calls, but I’ll be back soon.”
~ ~ ~
Stuart listened to the sound of the key turning in the lock, his eyes on her torture tools spread out on the table. The bitch isn’t as smart as she thinks she is. He tipped the chair back and forth, inching forward slowly, every movement making him groan in pain. Sweat broke out on his forehead as a wave of dizziness and nausea forced him to stop only a few feet from his goal. He continued to stare at the scalpel. If he threw up, he’d choke to death on his own vomit. Something about that thought spurred him on, and he rocked the chair until he bumped up against the table. Pressing his feet hard against the floor, he bit down on the rag to stifle the pain and lunged against the table until it toppled over. The chair followed the path of the table, and he landed hard, yelling as raw flesh scraped against the concrete floor.
The desire to close his eyes and let the darkness consume him was rapidly diminishing his will to live. He screamed as he rolled onto his back. Using his heels, he slowly pushed his way across the floor, searching for where the scalpel had landed. Tears of joy streamed down his face, and hysterical laughter shook his body when he noticed it lying against the wall. Lady luck had decided to throw him one more bone.
Keeping his eyes focused on the target, he pushed himself to the wall then rolled onto his side, his fingers finally closing around the instrument. Cutting through the ropes that bound his forearm without cutting his wrist was an awkward and slow process, and he breathed a sigh of relief when his left hand was finally free. He rested for a moment before ripping the duct tape from his face and spitting out the rag. Then he freed his right hand. It took him five minutes of excruciating pain to release his legs and feet, but finally he could roll to his knees and, with the help of the wall, stand. Her bag rested in the corner, and he limped toward it. One thing he’d learned as a child was never to underestimate an enemy. The Cobra was getting ready to meet her first mongoose.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Andi reached for the shotgun when she heard a key slide into the lock on the door. Shamus had wanted to stay, but she’d insisted he go home. “Thank God,” she whispered when Patrick entered the bar. “I thought …” She didn’t finish the sentence, but she knew from the grave look on Patrick’s face that he knew what she had thought.
He walked to the bar and poured a drink. “I thought Palano would be here by now.”
“He was. He left.”
Patrick studied her face, and Andi blinked hard to stop the tears. “I told him the truth.”
“Aye, lass, it might be for the best.”
The door flew open, and Jerry stalked in. “I’d like to have a word with Patrick alone, Andi.”
Patrick stood up straight, his bluish-green eyes darkening as his huge hands dropped to his sides. “There’s no time for that, lad. Sit down. What I’m about to say involves you too.”
Andi held her breath, glancing from one to the other as they stared each other down. Her initial surprise that Jerry had actually come back had been replaced by fear of what he might do.
Jerry finally conceded and pulled out a stool. “I’m a cop, Patrick, and I can only look the other way for so long. Anything you say
that has to do with a crime can and will be used against you.”
“I don’ reckon I’ve committed a crime yet, but you do what you have to do, lad.” He turned to Andi. “I need that picture you have of the Cobra.”
Andi reached for her cell and pulled up the picture. “It comes out in the paper in the morning.” She started to hand her phone to Patrick.
Jerry intercepted it. “What are you going to do with this?”
“Send it to Daniel McHugh.” Patrick glanced at the clock over the bar. “And I only have about fifteen minutes before he comes looking for me—and Andi.”
“Is that where you’ve been? What did she have to promise him this time?”
“Aye, that’s where I’ve been, and I promised him nothing but this picture.” He placed his hand on Jerry’s shoulder. “The phone, lad. You’re wasting time.”
“Why does McHugh want a picture of the Cobra?”
“Because she killed his son.” Patrick reached for the phone, took it from Jerry’s hand, quickly typed a text, attached the photo, and sent it. He walked behind the bar, refilled his glass, and pulled out two more, filling them to the brim. “You’d best drink up while you can.”
Andi took her glass, but Jerry pushed back the stool and shook his head. “If what you’re saying is true, I need to get to the station and fill the captain in on what’s happening. Once McHugh hits the streets, we may have a bloodbath on our hands.” He glanced at Andi. “Stay close to Patrick, and if you can reach your girl, you’d best bring her in.”
She nodded, still holding the full glass of whiskey. “Be careful.”
Patrick locked the door behind Jerry and returned to the bar. “Have you talked to Shamus?”
“Yes. He and two of his brothers came calling with Jerry. They threatened to toss me over their shoulder and take me with them. I think Shamus is well protected.” Andi placed a hand over his. “What did you have to promise McHugh this time, Patrick?”
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