Single Daddy Dom

by Sophia Gray

  She dipped one into the water and pulled it out, checking it with a nod. “Yep, that's what I expected. Very weak. So we're going to add sodium hydroxide, or lye, to the solution.”

  “Lye?” Hammer asked, his eyebrows shooting up. “Shit, don't they use that as acid to dissolve roadkill and corpses and stuff?”

  “Yes.” Franny unscrewed a plastic jar labeled “Caustic Soda.”

  “But ain't that poison?”

  She glared at him. “It's all poison. Now shut your mouth or leave the room. I'm not exactly making banana smoothies here. I need to be able to concentrate.”

  Hammer nodded, folding his arms over his chest.

  Franny carefully measured out the white crystals of lye, dropping them into the bucket. She stirred the mixture with a glass rod, then pulled it out and touched the tip to another pH strip. She grunted quietly and repeated the process a few more times until she was satisfied with the results.

  “We've reached a pH level of 9. Now we extract the heroin from the solution.” It seemed like she was mostly talking to herself. She popped the cap on a brown bottle, measuring the liquid and adding it to the bucket. “We use chloroform for this rather than diethyl ether, because it's non-flammable and can be used as a handy solvent for other opiates, like codeine. Not morphine, though, of course.”

  “Of course,” Ben commented wryly.

  Franny shot him a dirty look as she carefully skimmed the chloroform layer from the top of the bucket, pouring it into a beaker with a rounded base.

  “Now that we've concentrated our heroin again, we wash it with a milliliter of cold water.”

  “How the hell do you 'wash' heroin?” Robby whispered to Brock.

  Franny took a bottle of water from a cooler next to her equipment and applied it to the beaker with a small dropper. She swished the mixture around for a few seconds, then lit a burner and gently lowered the beaker over it. As fumes began to escape the glass container, she turned her head away and put on a surgical mask.

  “Chloroform is a carcinogen, so I'd recommend taking shallow breaths. We need to make sure we remove it from the heat before the residue on the bottom starts to burn.” Franny waited a while longer, then switched the burner off. She used a set of tongs to lift the beaker and poured the contents into another glass container.

  “Next, we add a diluted solution of hydrochloric acid.” She applied the liquid to the container.

  “More acid?” Hammer's eyes widened. “When they test this stuff, we want them to get high, not drop dead with holes burning through them.”

  “Knock it off, okay?” Brock snapped. “She's a pro. She knows what she's doing. Stop breaking her balls, or you'll distract her and fuck the whole thing up.”

  “Says the guy who almost fucked the whole thing up,” Ben snickered.

  Franny stirred the container with the glass rod, then touched the tip to another pH strip. “As we add this, we neutralize the diacetyl morphine base and convert it into its water-soluble form as hydrochloride salt. Once all of the solid material has dissolved and we've reached a pH level of about 5 or 6, we'll have created a form of liquid heroin that's entirely free of impurities.”

  “But we can't hand Ricci a liquid,” Hammer balked. “He's expecting it in powder form. That's gonna look suspicious as hell.”

  Franny smiled. “That's where my super-secret ingredient comes in.” She reached into a bag and pulled out a small sack of baking flour.

  “You've got to be kidding.” Robby shook his head.

  “Ordinary flour,” Franny said smugly. “We use it as a base, with ten parts flour to one part heroin solution. We freeze it, crush it, screen it, and what's left will be a fine powder that kicks like it's fresh from the poppy fields.”

  “That's some Breaking Bad shit right there,” Ben said appreciatively. “Amazing.”

  “See? What did I tell you? Franny's a genius.” Brock grinned, elbowing Robby in the ribs.

  Franny smirked, miming a small curtsey.

  “Fine,” Robby conceded. “She's a genius. She's a wizard. She's Rumple-fucking-stiltskin. So now what?”

  “Now call Ricci,” Brock said, “and set up the test so we can get our big payoff.”

  Chapter 14

  Maggie

  “Unbelievable!”

  Maggie's father had exclaimed this word at least fifty times over the last two days. This time it was from behind the desk in his study, with Maggie sitting across from him as her mother sat on a small couch in the corner and flipped through a fashion magazine.

  Turo's eyes twinkled happily, and every pearly tooth was revealed in a wide smile. Maggie couldn't remember ever seeing him so happy. She'd even caught him dancing and clicking his heels in the halls of their house, singing to himself in Italian.

  Maggie had felt like singing and dancing ever since her night with Gabe, too, but she'd restrained herself, trying to seem aloof. Part of it was because she couldn't stand the idea of her father feeling vindicated by setting her up with someone she ended up liking—it still didn't make up for all of the forced and uncomfortable dates he'd arranged for her, or the horrible things he'd had done to Daniel.

  But the other part was that Maggie felt like a whole new woman after making love to Gabe, and she was afraid her parents would notice the change and figure out where it came from.

  It was hard to hide it, though. She felt strong, happy, confident—like she could spread her arms and soar through the sky like a bird if she wanted to. The world around her seemed brighter and more vivid. Being with her parents was bearable now that she knew there was someone out there who'd let her be herself when she was with him. The dry, tasteless meals didn't even seem so bad anymore, since she could look forward to indulging in deliciously unhealthy food the next time she was with Gabe. And every night, before she went to sleep, her hand would drift between her thighs and she'd imagine how her second date with Gabe would end.

  Even though Maggie did her best to act like her usual sullen, distant self, she still noticed that her mother was looking at her differently—as though somehow, she knew exactly what had happened while Maggie was with Gabe, and she didn't like it one bit. Amelia hadn't said anything, but her eyes were hard and flinty, and her thin lips automatically twisted into a grimace whenever she caught Maggie's eye.

  There was only one shadow that passed over Maggie's happiness now and then. She didn't have Gabe's phone number, which meant there was no way for her to contact him directly about a second date. She'd have to wait until her father arranged it for her.

  Based on how cheerful and effusive he'd been acting, Maggie figured she probably wouldn't have to wait too long.

  “Absolutely incredible,” Turo said again with a laugh. “Amelia, can you believe it? This kid from nowhere—from Canada—walks into my town like some kind of gunslinger from a Western! And when over a dozen bikers show up to grab my daughter—”

  “Listen to him,” Amelia muttered, rolling her eyes. “First it was eight of them, then ten, and now it's over a dozen.”

  “Ah, who cares how many there were?” Turo replied with a dismissive wave. “The point is, Gabe, Adamo, and that fat guy were outnumbered about three to one.”

  This, too, was unusual behavior for her father. Usually, he was known for being exacting and meticulous in his attention to detail. Now he actually seemed to be having fun inflating the story more with each new telling, like some amateur fisherman bragging about the marlin he once caught. If Maggie didn't hate him so much, she might have found it charming.

  “Rodolfo,” Maggie said. “That's the name of Gabe's bodyguard.”

  “Rodolfo, right. Thank you. I should remember that, so I can thank him properly next time I see him. So they're outnumbered, and what does Gabe do?”

  “We know what Gabe did,” her mother said. “You've told us about a hundred times, despite the fact that you weren't even there when it happened.”

  “He doesn't even take cover,” Turo continued relentlessly. “Other pe
ople are running and diving and panicking, but not Gabe. Instead, the kid plants his feet and ignores the bullets flying at him like he's Superman, and he shoots three of the scumbags. Bam! He even takes out their leader with one shot.”

  “'Right between the eyes,'” Amelia recited in a bored tone.

  “Right between the eyes. Amazing. Like something from an action flick. The kid's got ice water in his veins, no question about it. And once it's all over, Adamo wants to just grab Maggie, but no, Gabe's still thinking ten steps ahead. He takes her someplace safe for a couple hours until the heat dies down. I tell you, Amelia, if this kid weren't already going to marry Maggie, I'd adopt him myself.”

  Amelia raised an eyebrow. “Who says she's going to marry him?”

  “Are you kidding? The guy looks like a movie star, dresses like a millionaire, and acts like a superhero. Why wouldn't she marry him?”

  “I haven't heard anyone ask her about it, and I haven't heard her say anything about it either. So that seems like quite the assumption on your part.”

  “Fine, then let's ask her.” Turo turned to Maggie. “How about it? You like him, don't you?”

  Maggie felt torn. If she admitted how much she liked Gabe, her father would feel justified in deciding who she should see. If she didn't, her father might not arrange another date with him.

  She shrugged, trying to sound casual. “He's okay. I like him more than I liked the other guys you set me up with.”

  Turo smiled triumphantly. “I knew it! You're moping and trying to hide how much you like him, because you don't want to give me the satisfaction, do you? I know you won't believe this, but I actually admire that stubborn streak of yours, and the way you try to hide what you're really thinking so people can't use it against you. You get that from me, and I respect it. I always have.”

  You never seemed to respect it much when you were controlling every aspect of my life and punishing me for not going along with it, Maggie thought. But I guess you're feeling magnanimous in your victory, huh?

  “But, finally, we can stop this constant tug-of-war with each other,” her father continued happily. “We can go back to being a loving father and daughter, now that we've found a good husband for you. Unbelievable. Isn't it unbelievable, Amelia?”

  Amelia sighed and tossed her magazine aside, looking Turo in the eye. “Yes, as a matter of fact. I do think it's unbelievable.”

  Turo's eyes narrowed. “There's a certain tone in your voice, and I'm having a hard time interpreting it. Perhaps you can help me. When you say you think it's unbelievable, do you mean that it's unbelievable...or that you don't believe it?”

  “I mean I don't believe it,” Amelia said flatly. “Any of it.”

  Turo paused for a moment, then turned to Maggie again. “Go upstairs, please. I'd like to speak to your mother alone.”

  Maggie sighed. “Of course. It's about my future, so why should I be in the room?” Before either of her parents could respond, she got up and walked out of the room.

  But this wasn't the first time her mother and father had dismissed her so they could talk about her, and it wouldn't be the first time she'd hovered outside to listen in on them. She'd lived in this house her entire life, and she'd become an expert on which floor panels creaked. She avoided them now as she positioned herself next to the door carefully.

  “Okay, what's your problem with all of this?” Turo asked angrily.

  “For starters, it seems much too convenient for me. You're right—this kid came out of nowhere. You've never heard of him or his family. You've barely even heard of the man who introduced him to you.”

  “Robby Nickelson is a made guy. That's reason enough for me to trust him.”

  Maggie heard her mother laugh bitterly. “What a bunch of baloney. Off the top of my head, I can name at least six made guys who double-crossed the bosses they worked for, and another six who turned State's Evidence and sent their whole families to prison. And this kid's supposed to be from Canada, right? Because, suddenly, there's made guys in Canada? Who ever heard of such a thing?”

  “Of course there are made guys in Canada,” Turo insisted. “There are made guys everywhere.”

  “Why? Because Gabe told you so? It's not like you could check on that anyway, right? Since you don't know anyone up there, and he knows it. 'Canada,' right. Pull the other one.”

  “Do you hear yourself? Do you even realize how paranoid you sound right now?”

  “And this guy you've never heard of—from a family that's supposed to be so small, no one else has ever heard of them either—he just shows up with some multi-billion-dollar deal that'll make you the most powerful capo in twelve states, and drops it right in your lap.”

  “Amelia, I know you don't know much about how the world out there works, but, believe me, this kind of thing happens,” her father protested. “Just ask the guys on Wall Street. They hear about big opportunities from unlikely sources that no one else has ever heard of, they act on that information, and they make piles of money. It happens all the time, except that this time, it happened to us. Why can't you just be happy about that?”

  “Oh, I don't know how the world works? You're looking for a husband for Maggie, and suddenly a handsome stranger shows up out of the blue? And on their first date, he just happens to be put in a position where he zaps your most hated enemies and comes out looking like a hero?”

  “Attacks like these can happen at any time. You forget that, because I do such a good job of keeping you and Maggie safe. But they still happen, and never when you'd expect.”

  “If the whole thing were nothing more than a dog-and-pony show, then this is exactly when I'd expect it,” her mother snapped. “He gets to save your precious daughter and earn your trust so you swallow whatever nonsense he tells you. And look at you! Look how well it's working!”

  “I don't like how you're speaking to me right now.” Maggie heard something dangerous in her father's voice. “It sounds like you think I'm an idiot and a dupe, and I don't appreciate it.”

  “And why would these bikers stop to pick up their friends' dead bodies and take them away? Before the cops or anyone else could examine them? What kind of sense does that make?”

  “I already told you. Gabe said these bikers tend to be sentimental, and—”

  “There it is again. 'Gabe says this. Gabe says that.' He's got you so turned around you can't even think for yourself.”

  “Fine, so what's your big theory?” Turo asked defensively. “That they somehow staged it? That's completely ridiculous. It's impossible.”

  “Earlier, you compared it to an action movie. Before that, you said it was like a Western. You think this stuff is impossible to do? You see it on TV every day. Fake bullets, fake blood.”

  “I just don't see how they could make all of this happen.”

  Amelia sighed impatiently. “Remember when we went to Vegas and saw that stage magician? His body stayed on stage while his head floated over the audience, singing? I may not know exactly how he did it, but I still know it was just a trick. Believe me, so is this.”

  There was a moment of silence, and Maggie thought her father might explode with rage. But when he spoke again, his voice was soft. “Why are you being like this? She likes the kid. You can see that.”

  “Oh, I'll just bet she does.” There was something about how her mother said it that sent a chill down Maggie's spine.

  She does know, Maggie thought. Somehow, she knows we had sex. Even if she didn't actually believe any of what she's saying, just knowing I had sex with him—that he made me happy—would make her angry enough to try to derail it.

  “So what's the problem?” Turo asked. “Aren't you happy that we don't have to marry her off to someone she doesn't even like?”

  “You were prepared to do that anyway.”

  “But now we don't have to!” Maggie flinched at the unexpected volume of her father's voice. She heard him take a deep breath before continuing in a more subdued tone. “Minghia, you can still m
ake me crazy, you know that? My instincts and my wisdom have built this family into what it is today. Mine, not yours. This is the best thing that's ever happened to us, and I'm not going to crumple it up and throw it in the trash just because my nagging wife suddenly decided she's got more street smarts than I do. I'm done arguing with you. We're paying out the ransom for Gabe's father and we're going into business with him, and Maggie's going to marry him, and that's that. I don't want to hear another word about it from you.”

  Maggie only had a moment to wonder what he meant about the ransom and Gabe's father before she realized he was heading toward the door. She backed away quickly and scampered up the stairs to her room before he had a chance to see she'd been eavesdropping.