Blood Ties - A Magnolia Novel

by Ashley Fontainne

  “Yes, boss.” Vincenzo followed his response with a nod.

  Caesar could see the disappointment in Vincenzo’s eyes, even in the dark. “Ah, don’t worry. I’ll make sure the first slice only immobilizes her. You can finish her off with your own blade. Deal?”

  Vincenzo’s smile was big and bright. “Deal!”

  “Oh, and one more thing.”

  “What’s that, boss?” Vincenzo whispered.

  “Take out the dog first. Quietly. Neither of us need to be missing chunks of flesh.”

  Just as they’d discussed on the drive over, they split up. Vincenzo at a light trot, Caesar at a brisk walk. Once he reached the edge of the tree line, Caesar stopped. He scanned the yard, barn, and house with the binoculars. Watched their target exit the barn and jog across the yard, the dog right next to her. In seconds, they were inside the house. Adrenaline pulsed through Caesar’s body, making him feel more alive than he had in thirty years. His hands trembled slightly as he envisioned the first moment the sharp, thin blade pierced the delicate flesh. The high he would feel as warm blood spilled out, the terror in the eyes of the kill when she realized death was but mere seconds away. For Caesar, it was better than sex or any drug.

  Satisfied it was safe to move, Caesar exited the cover of trees and jogged across the field until he reached the barn. Thunder boomed, followed by several bolts of lightning. The last burst of light kept him from crashing into a pile of wood to his right. His heart rate elevated when he noticed an old pickup to his left, thinking it was the truck from before. When Caesar realized it wasn’t, he shook his head at the silly paranoia and continued forward. With his back against the wall, Caesar peered around the corner. It took him several seconds to focus the binoculars, but finally, he caught movement by the back door.

  Unfortunately, so did the dog.

  Its bark was loud, and the sound carried across the yard all the way to Caesar’s hiding position. He cringed, wondering if the decision to let Vincenzo be a part of the hit was the right one. Their quarry, this former private investigator, was probably in tune with her four-legged beast and would recognize the warning bark.

  “Come on, come on dickhead. Shut that dog up!” Caesar whispered.

  “This isn’t going to end well, Caesar. Leave. Let it go. Come, be with me. I need you. Want you by my side. The sun is warm. Hurry.”

  The sweet, inviting voice of Romella drifted in Caesar’s mind. He pushed it aside, unwilling to answer her back. Too much was at stake. Rather than respond, he peered through the lens of the binoculars and saw Vincenzo’s body appear on the porch. Knife in hand, Vincenzo entered the back door. Less than three seconds later, the barking ceased.

  “Thatta boy!”

  Removing his backpack, Caesar stuffed the binoculars inside, took out the knife, and set the pack against the wall. He waited for the scream, the sound of panicked feet thudding his way. Any second, Karina Summers would run across the yard, away from her pursuer, straight into his path.

  As seconds ticked by into minutes, sweat formed on his brow. The storm intensified, and the first droplets of rain fell. What the hell is taking so long? Irritated, his stomach in knots, Caesar moved from his position behind the barn. Within seconds, he saw Vincenzo sprint across the yard toward him. Caesar froze in mid-stride, a heavy sense of dread slammed into his chest. What’s the fool doing? Where’s the girl?

  It happened so fast, Caesar didn’t have time to process it all. The back door burst open, and the woman ran from the house, carrying the limp body of the dog. She struggled to stay on her feet and was heading straight for Caesar, though she seemed unaware of his presence. Knife clenched in his fist, he steadied himself for her arrival. Caesar sensed Vincenzo to his right, closing in on her.

  He took a deep breath and scowled. The wet night air was heavy with the scent of natural gas. The second his brain registered the odor, the house exploded. The blast knocked Caesar backward, his head slammed into the damp ground. The impact knocked the air from his lungs and left him slightly dazed as everything went black. When images appeared again, Caesar saw the faces of the members of El Rhukn leering and laughing while they beat the shit out of him.

  “Caesar? Why didn’t you listen to me? I told you. Leave. Now.”

  He fought and clawed his way back up through the murky dark inside his mind. No. Not until it’s finished. Caesar managed to sit up, scanning the area around him for the knife. It was about ten feet to his left, so he crawled over to it. Once back in his hand, Caesar heard the screams from the girl, and before he could force his body to comply with his instructions to stand, four quick gunshots rang out.

  Vincenzo’s body jerked as the bullets ripped through his flesh. Guilt slammed into Caesar’s chest as the fleeting discussions about wearing vests whizzed by. Fury replaced his sadness when the last bullet entered Vincenzo’s forehead. Nothing they could have donned would have saved him from having half his face blown off. Caesar knew his friend, his last remaining cousin, was dead before his body hit the ground. In horror, Caesar watched her slam her foot into Vincenzo’s poor, dead crotch. Over and over, while screaming vile, disgusting words.

  Unbridled, raw anger pushed all other thoughts out of Caesar’s head. He stood and strode toward the girl, who finally stopped stomping on Vincenzo. She was crying, crawling toward her dead mutt. Caesar heard the faint wail of sirens in the distance, and knew he had to hurry. He pulled his gun from his holster, holding it like a club. In seconds, he was right behind her. Heard every word she muttered to the corpse of her dog, promising through her tears help was on the way. After announcing his presence, Caesar summoned every ounce of strength he could muster, and slammed the butt of the gun against the back of her skull. She collapsed and crawled away, but not far enough to save her from the impact of his boot. Blood shot from her nose and mouth, and the bitch was out cold.

  “It’s too late, Caesar. Can’t you hear the sirens? The cops will arrive any moment.”

  Panic clenched in his chest. There was no way he had time to get the car, come back, scoop up the bodies. Caesar spun in a circle, his eyes taking in the entire spread. The red and orange flames from the fire illuminated the area. The house was gone, along with the garage, and he could see through the flames a car burned inside. No good. Then, he remembered the old truck he’d passed on his way to the barn. It was his last hope for escape.

  His body seemed to forget his age as Caesar sprinted across the pasture. The driver’s door was unlocked, and he jerked it open. He fumbled around for the keys and came up empty-handed. The squall of the sirens grew, along with his fear. Yanking the small flashlight from his back pocket, Caesar maneuvered his torso until he was on his back. Though it had been fifty-five plus years since he hot-wired a vehicle, his muscle memory kicked in. Within seconds, the truck rumbled to life.

  Caesar climbed behind the wheel and took off. The light from the raging inferno was enough he didn’t need to turn the headlights on. The little bitch hadn’t moved. He slammed on the brakes and stopped, inches from Vincenzo’s body. It took all his strength to haul Vincenzo from the ground and into the bed of the truck. By the time Caesar latched on to the legs of the girl, he feared he didn’t have any gas left in his limbs. He was panting and sweating like a fat woman during sex. The first time Caesar tried to lift her limp body into the passenger’s seat of the truck, he lost his grip. She moaned softly as her head landed on a chunk of smoldering wood from the house.

  “Focus, darling. Warrior mind and body. Remember what Master Yamashita taught you. Warrior mind and body. Hurry, husband. The wait for you has been too long. I’m afraid much longer alone, and my soul will fade away. You are what tethers me here, but time is running short.”

  Romella’s voice, her worry and fear, ignited Caesar’s muscles. Terror at losing her forever almost brought him to tears. Focusing all his angst to his limbs, Caesar looped his arms around the girl and pulled her up, stuffing her body inside the truck. Ignoring the searing pain in his back a
nd shoulders, he finished securing her in the seat. He yanked the tape from his pocket, ripped of a large piece, and smashed it across her lips. Grabbing her arms, he wrapped the tape around them twice. Slamming the door, Caesar ran to the other side, hopped in, and gunned the engine.

  In the distance, he saw the blue lights flashing. Caesar didn’t have time to pause, or turn around to retrieve his backpack. He hit the blacktop and tromped on the gas, pushing the old rattletrap to the limit. In seconds, he passed the road where Vincenzo’s car was parked. Speeding through the curvy, two-lane road in the dark was dangerous, but not nearly close to the danger of leaving evidence behind. Caesar brushed the worry aside, glanced in the rear view mirror, and seeing nothing but darkness, turned on the headlights.

  By the time the cops picked through the debris and pieced together what happened at the Tuck residence, and who was involved, Caesar would be long gone. He did a mental rundown of the contents of his pack, satisfied nothing inside of it would link back to his identity. Vincenzo’s car was another matter. Considering he was dead, and nothing would be left of him after the trip to Slumber Land, the cops would find themselves at a dead end.

  As the adrenaline rush wore off, Caesar had to grip the steering wheel harder to maintain control as he pulled onto the freeway and headed to the outskirts of Hot Springs. He slowed down to the speed limit, praying the taillights were in working order so he didn’t attract attention from the law. Every few minutes, he glanced over at the girl to make sure she hadn’t woke up. She was still out cold. Her hair was matted on her face with blood and dirt, body slumped in the seat, head against the window at an odd angle. Laughter hung in the back of Caesar’s throat as he pulled around to the back of the building. Carmella was going to have a field day with her, once she found out the little bitch killed Vincenzo.

  34

  Prey becomes Predator

  Lucas paced back and forth inside Caesar’s bedroom. He’d been hiding inside the lair of the Devil for two days, jumping at every sound, waiting for the old geezer and his companion to return.

  They never did.

  After the first night, huddled inside the closet, back crammed against the wall, Lucas had eaten all of the rations from his pack. He tried to stay awake, but his body betrayed him and, sometime after three a.m., he’d crashed. When he awoke inside the dark space, panic raced through his chest, his mind playing tricks on him. For a second, Lucas thought he was locked inside a coffin and he bolted. When he burst through the doors and recognized the location, he nearly pissed his pants.

  He’d spent the remainder of the day roaming around the house, barefooted, gun in hand, checking every nook and cranny. At first, Lucas was hopeful the old fart returned while he was asleep, had a heart attack or stroke, his stiff body waiting to be found. After a thorough search of the massive place, Lucas went back to the closet, retrieved his bag, and prepared to leave. He couldn’t stand the thought of staying, pressing his luck any further. Fate may have intervened and allowed him easy access to the house, but it turned on him when Caesar and Carmine didn’t return. Maybe the bastard took a vacation with his goon. Or they had a car accident and were in the hospital. Got lucky with some broads in some high-priced hotel room, took too much Viagra, and their hearts exploded, leaving them with permanent stiffies. Lucas didn’t know, and honestly didn’t care.

  However, the second his fingers wrapped around the door knob, something inside his mind told him no. To stay. If he left, Lucas would spend the rest of his life on the run. Always looking over his shoulder, see their faces in crowds. He couldn’t, wouldn’t, live that way. He’d retraced his steps and went back to the master bedroom, set the bag down, and waited. Went downstairs twice to the kitchen and fixed something to eat. Rummaged and rifled through every unlocked cabinet and desk drawer, not really sure what he was searching for, but enjoying the satisfaction of snooping. When Lucas found the old man’s laptop, he couldn’t stop himself. Lucas threw it on the hardwood floor with all his might, laughing uncontrollably as it shattered. It took ten minutes to pick up all the pieces and toss them into the fireplace. While the plastic and metal sputtered and popped, a sense of relief hit him. Though he’d never been contacted via email, there was a possibility that somewhere on the hard drive, his name might be mentioned. Best to dispose of any evidence tying his name to Caesar’s.

  He’d lost count of the times he went to the window and peeked out. All for nothing. The day crept by, and by the time ten p.m. arrived the night before, Lucas was mentally wiped out. Too much thinking. Too much worrying. He stunk, so he left the bathroom door open and filled the enormous tub up with water, and slid inside, giddy from yet another intrusion into the private world of his enemy.

  It was almost eleven p.m., and his nerves were shot to hell. His nails were chewed down to their nubs, his stomach in knots. Lucas couldn’t make it another twenty-four hours. If his enemy didn’t arrive by midnight, like it or not, he would leave. Nick Shonnert would be on his own to deal with the nightmare. Lucas might be forced to spend the remainder of his days in a state of paranoia, but at least there would be distance between him and Caesar.

  The wad of cash in his pack was enough to take him across the country. Fuel for his hog was cheap, and once Lucas made it to Alaska he’d have enough left over to buy a truck of some sort. He’d have a head start and could go anywhere he wanted. Mexico was his original choice, but that would be an obvious place to look, since most criminals ran to the border. No, if Lucas was forced to leave without completing the mission, he’d head to Alaska. He’d watched hours and hours of TV shows about the vast state, and there were plenty of places for him to go, live off the grid. Find a nice, native girl to teach him how to survive and keep him warm at night. It would be hard to get used to the change in weather, but it would certainly be better than being dead.

  A bright light caught his attention, and Lucas jumped. He moved away from the window, slamming his back against the wall. His heart pounded in his chest as he eased his way toward the glass. With shaking fingers, Lucas pushed the curtain aside and watched a vehicle trudge up the drive. As it entered the garage, he noticed it was an old truck. It looked like the one he made deliveries with. His stomach flip-flopped and he nearly threw up. Lucas couldn’t see inside the cab, but it had to be either Caesar or Carmine.

  Then, it hit him. If they were driving the truck, it meant it was time for a delivery. No one had called him. The chill of fear made him shiver. What if they knew he was in the house?

  Crouching low, Lucas scrambled across the floor, grabbed his pack, yanked out the gun, and dove into the closet, which was bigger than his kitchen. Pushing his way through the suits and shoes, Lucas wedged his body in the corner and waited for whomever drove up to come inside.

  Though terrified, Lucas couldn’t help but smile. He checked the gun, made sure the safety was off. A final showdown was about to take place, and no matter which way it went, Lucas knew it would be the end of his body-parts delivering days.

  Forever.

  35

  Vacation - Over

  LiAnn sipped her drink and watched the twinkling lights of Branson from her perch on the patio. Her parents were settled into their room, and Cecil in his, all sawing logs after a long day. Karina had picked out a beautiful location for them. Rather than staying at a hotel, she’d found condos, and reserved three, right next to each other. They were fully stocked with everything necessary to enjoy a carefree vacation, plus each sported fabulous views of the city.

  Once they arrived, they drove around and checked out the local tourist haunts, went by a tackle shop to buy bait, followed by a trip to the grocery store for supplies. It was late in the afternoon by the time they arrived at the condos. Insisting her mom relax, LiAnn had cooked dinner for all of them, and before nine o’clock rolled around, Mom, Pop and Cecil were out.

  She glanced down at the phone. A brief conversation with Karina when they arrived was the only action it had seen. Not a peep from Crigger in over
thirty hours and Karina hadn’t called back. Crigger’s lack of contact didn’t really shock her, for he had been acting very strange the last few days. Though he mentioned he was on vacation, Crigger had yet to tell her where he was. Their relationship, or lack thereof, hadn’t been a topic of conversation either. They simply talked about mundane things.

  Conversations were always surface level, and LiAnn had yet to mention what was going on at The Magnolia. She almost told Crigger the day before about the trip to Branson but decided against it. They were in contact with each other, even though certain topics were left alone. They were talking, which was a big step. She kept with her original idea to let Crigger be the one who broached feelings.

  Though tired, LiAnn couldn’t sleep. Her mind figured her daughter was enjoying the free run of the place, probably tangled up in the sheets with Bo, or simply exhausted from working. Her heart had a difference of opinion. Worry pressed against her chest for Karina’s safety. LiAnn was second guessing the decision to leave.

  Oh, stop! She’s fine. In lust and frolicking around. Give her a call. It will ease the worry and annoy the heck out of her.

  Before she changed her mind, LiAnn punched redial. It went straight to voicemail, and her chest tightened. The worry bug was back, making its way up her spine. She tried again and got the same results. Duel emotions battled for control. The practical side said Karina’s phone had died, which was a plausible reason it went to voicemail. Maybe Karina forgot to plug it in while working and playing with Bo. Or Karina was trying to call her at the exact same moment.

  The emotional, motherly instincts called bullshit. Something is wrong.

  LiAnn tried one more time. Her worry turned to fear when her daughter’s voicemail greeting played again. Rising from the chair, she went back inside to turn on the TV. Maybe another storm hit and knocked out the power. Just as LiAnn picked up the remote, her phone rang. Oh, thank God! You’re such a worry wart!