by Dianna Love
Maxx glanced at Tío, who chuckled softly. Grinning at his uncle, he told Tío and Vincent, “Smith owes me still. Perhaps we can renegotiate the last contract if we can obtain the scroll. First we need to find out who has it.”
Vincent smiled, looking like someone’s grandfather, which worked to his advantage on close up kills. He turned the phone to face Maxx and said, “We can start with Valene Eklund. I took the liberty of locating her.”
Chapter 23
Valene hurried from the assisted living facility where her dad was a resident, into the dark skies unleashing a storm as fast and hard as it could. Of course, she had no umbrella, so she used her hand to shield her eyes from the rain.
She ran for her car, sparing a look up. “Would it have been too much trouble to have held off another ten minutes?” Probably a good way to catch a lightning bolt.
She unlocked her door and sank into the driver’s seat of her T-bird.
The seat that immediately started forming a puddle from her soaked clothes.
Wet hair hung in front of her eyes. She swatted it off her face, cranked the engine and backed up slowly, then pulled onto the quiet road. It had to be after ten by now.
Dad had looked bad.
By Monday, she’d either have the money for the treatment, plus extras like an air ambulance service that would fly him to the clinic outside of Seattle, and her expenses for staying with him ... or she wouldn’t.
It was all or none.
She had four more days, but no meeting with Tinker after all that Henri had gone through to get that ticket. How would she explain not meeting the billionaire? What was the chance Tinker would see her if she contacted his office and politely mentioned the missed opportunity?
Would they consider it a huge faux pas on the heels of Tinker and his wife watching Fontana get his head blown off?
Valene would.
Smith hadn’t called. He had to know what happened tonight. Had he been detained like everyone else? She’d never seen him again after that one glimpse.
She slowed as a stoplight changed to red.
Cold metal touched her neck and she froze. Then the trembling started. She dragged her eyes to the rearview mirror where a face covered in a black ski mask stared back at her.
If that was Dingo...
“Dammit, I’m sick of this shit.”
“Shut up, bitch and drive where I tell you.”
Not Dingo. He would never call her that. Her heart did a bang-up job of trying to jump out of her chest. Why couldn’t this have been Dingo again?
It was official. She was insane for first cursing Dingo for being in her face every time she turned around, and now wishing with all her soul that he was sitting here to deal with this kidnapper.
Her passenger said with a Spanish accent, “Drive straight. You have a tail and we will lose it.”
She glanced up at her side mirror, but all the lights behind her looked the same. Who was following and how was she going to lose someone capable of tailing her?
Ski Mask said, “I will tell you when to turn. Do not reach for your purse. Do not stop, put on your flasher, or do anything without my direction. Comprende?”
She couldn’t draw enough air to talk so she nodded.
Dingo had tried to warn her, but she hadn’t believed him. Now he was gone and she had no idea why anyone was after her. Damn him for being so shut off from her. Why couldn’t he trust her just once?
He said he was going to give you answers tonight at the cove.
Still, he should have told her everything long before now.
Hadn’t she helped him every time he asked?
You also did things he asked you not to do, her wisecracking conscience reminded her.
Shut. Up.
She clutched the steering wheel, turning carefully when ordered and making soft stops, which were hard to do with her knees banging together. Her kidnapper had her at a disadvantage right now, but the minute they were out of this car, even if she couldn’t get to her gun, she’d find her opening and make him think twice about grabbing another woman.
The windshield wipers swatted water back and forth. Headlights blurred her vision as they passed and lightning spread across the sky in jagged bolts.
It took until she turned onto San Pedro Street to realize he had her driving to Skid Row, an area of downtown Los Angeles that had earned the name honestly.
She never came here. Self-defense training was no good if you were too stupid to stay out of dangerous areas.
After two more turns, he told her to turn left immediately.
The only driveway she saw led into a closed overhead door on the bottom floor of a four-story building that had broken glass and graffiti on the brick exterior.
She said, “But there’s no...”
The garage door began lifting and she had no choice but to drive into the dark abyss on the other side.
She swallowed, realizing there was more than one person involved and this was not a simple kidnapping.
Her headlights faded into the deep recess of what might have been a parking garage or a warehouse. It went forever.
Of all the reasons she had to panic right now, the one hitting her hardest was that her father would be left alone with no one to help him.
Losing her would kill him. She regretted not making some plan in case anything happened to her. Dingo had once accused her of thinking she was invincible. He’d called her arrogant.
He’d been right.
“Stop,” her passenger ordered. “Turn off the engine.”
She put the car in park and reached for the key with trembling fingers. Her second regret hit her in the chest, a power punch to her heart.
I should have told Dingo the truth.
I should have told him I loved him.
“Get out,” Ski Mask ordered her.
~*~*~
Dingo wiped water off his face as he eased over the second-floor balcony of an apartment at the opposite end of the building from Valene’s. Gage might have someone watching the front and her windows, but he wouldn’t have someone at this end because there were better exit routes than this one.
He hated to waste the time, but it was this or drag a tail forever.
Dingo had driven up ten minutes ago in the same rental he’d been using to travel around since arriving in LA. He’d turned on a small light in Valene’s bedroom, grimaced at the place again, then turned on the lights in the bathroom. Let Gage’s people think Dingo was inside Valene’s apartment taking a shower, waiting for her to return.
That would keep them content until he got away.
He lowered himself as far as he could until he had no choice but to drop to the hill falling away from the unit. He hit and rolled, biting down on a grunt, but who would hear him over rain pounding the ground?
Damn, he was getting too old for this shit.
Either that or less than ten hours sleep in three days was catching up with him.
When he stopped sliding, he continued to follow the rain that flowed to a concrete culvert, a large one that tunneled under a paved road. The round opening was tall enough for him to crawl through for fifty feet. It was nice to be out of the water bullets beating down, but this pipe was full of sludge and debris that slowed him.
When he exited the other end, he was a block from his new ride, a 1968 GTO he’d seen earlier, parked on a used car lot. He’d either return it or send the money next week, more than they’d get for it at fair market value.
The newer cars were more trouble to hotwire.
He withdrew the slim jim tool he’d shoved under his shirt and hidden with the windbreaker he’d put on before getting out of his rental car. The rental still had a go bag and assorted things inside, so it looked as though he intended to come back to it.
Sabrina and Josh would know better.
Dingo had always run lean and mean, carrying only what he needed in the immediate moment. But Gage’s agents wouldn’t know that.
Once he had the do
or open and was snug inside from the rain, he wrinkled his nose at the stale odors of cigarettes, booze and carpet cleaner. In another minute, he had it cranked and let the engine warm as he pulled out his smart phone, then booted up the tracking program on Valene’s car.
She’d been in west Los Angeles right before he’d reached her apartment, but now she was driving on ...
“No!” He pounded the steering wheel. “What the hell are you doing in Skid Row?”
Fuck. He answered his question as fast as he’d asked it. She was driving down the road that played through his nightmares.
A dark, potholed street through LA’s own corner of hell.
The blip kept moving slower and slower until it turned off the street into a building. And stopped.
He stared at the blinking light, begging for her car not to be where it was.
All the wishing in the world wouldn’t change reality.
Years ago, seven to be exact, one group had owned that turf and based on what he’d found out tonight, they were back. Gang activity had moved deeper into south LA, but the blip on his map was the home of Satan’s Garden Club.
Sabrina’s words banged around in Dingo’s head, questioning his ability to be objective. If she stood here now, she’d be in his face, because she cared that much about him. Because she didn’t care who she pissed off if that’s what it took to protect the people she called family, and the crazy woman would bleed for him or Josh, which was the reason he’d forgive her for what happened tonight with Gage.
But Gage? Not so much.
Dingo studied the blinking light on the map.
Had Valene gone there of her own free will?
Was she, at this very minute, laughing about the kill that went down at the fundraiser?
Or had he made a huge miscalculation by coming back to LA, so bloody sure he could protect her, when all he’d done was lead Satan’s Garden Club right to her front door?
If he called Sabrina and Josh, they would back him up to find out, but if Valene was part of the organization, Dingo would be walking two of the people he was trying to keep alive into a sure death.
Gage already believed Valene was guilty as hell. He didn’t want anyone to tip her hand while his people stalked her. Calling Sabrina would force her to choose between supporting the State Department’s interest and backing Dingo.
If he did bring Sabrina in on this and it went bad, he might destroy the only chance Slye had of figuring out who was going to die next. Sabrina would end up catching the brunt of the backlash because the State Department would have to blame someone.
Dingo revved the big engine and let the bruiser growl a minute while he debated which direction to drive.
Go back to the safe house and pick up a team or head to downtown LA and face his past alone?
Adjusting the rearview mirror, he cracked his neck and put the car in gear.
Chapter 24
“I don’t know anything about a scroll...” Valene saw the hand flying at her face, but her hands were tied behind her. All she could do was give in to the force when the hit landed ...
Crack. The sound was as vicious as the pain ripping across her cheek and her body hitting the hardwood floor. Even with her training that allowed her to roll with the hit, her head still bounced. That rung her bell.
She blinked, trying to see past stars.
Boots standing on a polished floor filled her watery vision.
She was no longer trembling.
She’d passed from terror to a numb level of acceptance a half hour ago. The man in the ski mask had walked her up three flights of stairs to this designer office that was as out of place in the decrepit building as pearls on a ragdoll.
A hand grabbed her arm and yanked her up then shoved her into a cushioned chair. Her aching hip and shoulder appreciated the reprieve even if it was only for a moment.
“Leave me,” the bastard called Navarro said.
She watched as the man who had delivered her, and an old guy this one had called Tío, left the office. Both of them looked like they crushed bones for exercise and grinned the whole time.
Silence fell over the room like an unwelcome guest.
She moved her jaw and hissed softly at the pain.
“There’s no reason for making this difficult,” Navarro offered conversationally. He had ink-black hair, stood an easy six-three, and had honed his body to be a chick magnet. Black lashes, deep-bronze skin and perfect teeth, he was a walking version of a Latin god come to earth, but it was only skin deep. There was nothing powerful about a man who beat someone when they were tied up, especially a woman.
She tasted blood where her teeth had cut the inside of her lip.
Navarro leaned a hip on his desk, not a speck of her blood on the pale blue dress shirt tucked into black jeans that fit him as if he’d been shrink-wrapped. Nails too clean and neat to do real labor. This man had others do his dirty work. Except for when it came to abusing women with their hands tied.
He waited for her to say something.
She spent hours with potential clients. It was the only time she could be patient and still. He would need a walker for getting around by the time she talked.
“I see.” He stared off into infinity for a few seconds then said, “I know about the scroll. There is no way for you to gain it now without me, so accept that your life has changed and now belongs to me. Spare yourself the pain and tell me what I want to know.”
She just stared at him, waiting for his next strike.
“Don’t you wonder how we found you?”
Actually she did, but she wasn’t going to let on that she cared.
“Ah, I see that you do want to know.”
Had she totally lost her poker face? Evidently, since she hadn’t played poker in six years. “I’d play your silly game if I knew what you were talking about.”
“You spoke to someone about the scroll earlier today by phone.”
She’d spoken to a number of her contacts about the scroll, but they shouldn’t know that. Regardless, she wasn’t giving this slimeball any names. Still, he’d pricked her curiosity enough for her to ask, “Who are you?”
“I am Maxx Navarro, head of Satan’s Garden Club.”
Was he serious? “Never heard of you or this twisted version of a garden club.”
“This is no joke.” He said that the same way a doctor would tell you he couldn’t save your leg.
Dead-freaking-serious.
“I didn’t mean to insinuate that I thought this was funny in any way.” She could do contrite, but if he gave her any opening he’d find out she could do bust-your-balls, too.
Literally.
Her feigned apology must have appeased him.
Navarro dialed back the death glare. “I got your name from the person who spoke to you about the scroll today. Not actually from him, but from his phone. I have it. He won’t need it anymore.”
Henri had called her.
Air backed up in her lungs. What had they done to Henri? “Show me the phone.”
Navarro frowned at that order but reached around behind him and lifted a phone that ...was not Henri’s. Thank you, God. I know we haven’t been on good terms, but I owe you one for saving me that nightmare.
She made a point of squinting as she studied it, trying to figure out who had called her from that phone.
Could it be Dingo’s? No. She didn’t think he knew anything about the scroll or he’d have brought it up when they talked.
That ruled him out. She hoped.
Wait a minute. How would Navarro have any idea what someone called her about just because he found her number on a phone?
Geoffrey wouldn’t call her if someone paid him a year’s rent for his and Henri’s building.
She mentally ran back through the calls to the doctor, her bank and the assisted living when Aram had called and she’d ignored...
Aram? He’d left a voice mail and she’d ignored it. “What’s the name of the person who owns that phone?
”
“Aram Pavlovsky.”
Navarro came after her because of him? Val scrunched up her face in a way she hoped was convincing. “I don’t know what Aram told you, but he’s just your standard scumbag who’s so full of shit his eyes are brown.”
Navarro’s eyes were brown. Oops.
Those eyes narrowed at her. “He said nothing about you.”
She let out her breath. Aram could have screwed this up royally.
“But,” Navarro continued. “He did tell my man about a very rare scroll, and he said you had the inside track. He offered to split the proceeds from this scroll with us.”
“Aram? He never splits anything,” she said before she could stop herself.
“Let’s say he was motivated by having a knife pinning his family jewels to a chair.”
Oh, dear God. What had they done to Aram?
She never liked the guy, but neither would she wish him to be harmed. “I don’t understand what’s going on.”
“It’s very simple. Your friend died a painful death, but it was fairly quick once my man got down to business.”
“You killed him for a scroll?”
“No. He was merely number two on my list of bodies to put to rest. We found out about the scroll because my people are thorough and I will not be fooled even though someone has gone to a great deal of effort to keep this secret. I will gain the scroll before he does, and you will help me. Slow deaths are so unnecessary unless there is information to be gained. You, however will be offered a swift death unless you continue to make my life difficult.”
Her skin was suddenly clammy and she fought to breathe. This was not a good time to pass out. Stars danced in front of her eyes. She had to get a grip.
He stood up. “Very well. I take your silence to mean you have opted for the difficult route.”
“No, that’s, uh, not what I want. I’m just lightheaded. I need a minute to catch my breath.” She was rambling, but it was working because he seemed happy with that declaration.
Or not. He walked to the door and called to a Dominic who came in, but he was so thick he had to turn sideways to do it.
Navarro said, “Take her into the next room. There’s no point in making a mess in here.”