by Lara Lacombe
She nodded, biting her bottom lip. “Thank you,” she said.
“Let’s go.” He’d wasted enough time out here.
He stepped forward and pushed open the door, the receptionist hot on his heels. “Sir, you really can’t go in there,” she said loudly, grabbing his arm for good measure.
Nate shot her a look over his shoulder before turning back. Big Sal sat behind his desk, staring at the doorway with a look of mild surprise. “What is this?”
Before Nate could introduce himself, the receptionist spoke up. “I tried to stop him, sir. But he insisted!”
Big Sal nodded at her. “That’s fine, Josie. I’ll take care of this.”
She let out a quiet sigh of relief before retreating out of the room. Nate shut the door behind her, then walked forward until he stood in front of Big Sal’s desk. The man eyed him up and down in a blatant assessment, and Nate returned the favor. They stared at each other for a moment until Big Sal broke the silence.
“And you are?” He sounded bored, but Nate could tell by the way his jaw tensed that his silence rattled the other man. He debated on staying quiet to prolong the discomfort but decided against it. Time was of the essence.
“Nate Gallagher. Houston police.”
If the mention of law enforcement rattled the gambling king, he didn’t show it. In fact, it seemed to have the opposite effect.
Big Sal leaned back in his chair, a wide smile spreading across his face. “A police officer?” he said solicitously. “Why didn’t you just say so in the first place?” He gestured to one of the chairs in front of his desk. “Please, have a seat.”
Nate’s impatience was building like a summer storm, but he pushed the feeling aside. He could play the game for a few minutes at least.
Maybe.
“What can I do for you?”
“I have reason to believe one of your associates has kidnapped a woman. I’m here to get her back.” That sounded diplomatic, right?
Big Sal lifted one bushy eyebrow. “That’s quite an accusation. Why would I be interested in kidnapping someone?”
“Because she was in possession of some rather incriminating photos that show you in an unflattering light. The kind of pictures you wouldn’t want to be seen by the wider world.”
Big Sal’s nostrils flared, but other than that subtle tell, his expression remained unchanged. “Oh, really?”
Nate nodded. “Fiona, the woman you took, works at a convenience store owned by Ben Carter. Recognize the name?”
The other man nodded slightly. “Go on.”
“For some reason, Ben has the pictures I mentioned. Now, I don’t know the whole story, but I’m guessing Ben made a bet with you, one that he lost. And I’m willing to bet he tried to blackmail you rather than pay up.”
A smile flickered at the corners of Big Sal’s mouth. “He wouldn’t be the first person to try such a thing.”
“He probably won’t be the last, either,” Nate observed. “And while I normally wouldn’t care how you resolve such situations, I do take issue with you kidnapping an innocent woman.”
“I haven’t kidnapped anyone,” the man said, spreading his hands wide. “I would never do that.”
Nate barely resisted the temptation to roll his eyes. “Please don’t treat me like I’m stupid. Of course you didn’t do it yourself—you have people to do your dirty work for you. But the end result is the same. What’s that old saying? The buck stops here?”
Big Sal narrowed his eyes slightly. “Normally, I would agree with you. But, as I said before, I didn’t kidnap anyone, nor have I instructed any of my associates to do so on my behalf. That’s not how I operate my business.”
Nate shook his head. “I want to believe you, I really do. But try to see this from my perspective. All the evidence points to you. There’s an attempted robbery at Ben’s store. The next day, he gives the incriminating photos he has of you to Fiona. Her home is broken into, and she barely escapes the assailant. Now, she’s missing. You’re a shrewd man—I’m sure you can understand my suspicions here.”
Big Sal let out a sigh. “You have my sympathies, Detective. But all I can do is repeat, once again, that I have nothing to do with this woman’s disappearance.” He stood, making it clear their discussion was over. “Now, unless you have a search warrant...?” He trailed off suggestively. When Nate didn’t respond, he smiled. “As I thought. And while I would be happy to continue our talk, I do have an appointment. So if you’ll see yourself out?”
Nate rose and fixed the other man with a stare. “We’re not done here,” he warned.
Big Sal’s smile was polite, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m a busy man, Detective, and I’m sure the same goes for you. I trust you will not bother me again, unless you have something more than unfounded accusations to discuss.”
Recognizing he had lost this round, Nate turned and walked to the door. He knew in his gut that Big Sal was somehow involved in Fiona’s abduction, but until he could come up with concrete proof, he didn’t have many options.
He gave the receptionist his card on his way out. Maybe, just maybe, she would notice something and call him.
He climbed back into his car with a sigh of frustration. He’d hoped to rattle Big Sal’s cage, but the other man wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Hopefully, his visit had at least served to put the gambling kingpin on notice that he was being watched.
Anger filled his chest, and he punched the steering wheel hard, sending pain shooting up his arm. There had to be something else he could do, some clue he was missing.
“Where are you, baby?” he muttered.
There was no response, of course. He hadn’t actually expected one. But the silence merely drove home the fact that Fiona was gone.
The past two days had been like a wake-up call for him. Fiona’s presence had made him realize how empty his life had been. He’d dedicated himself to his job, all in the name of being able to provide for his sister when the time came. But had that really been the right thing to do? What experiences had he missed by staying so focused on that distant goal? Had he traded the life he could have had now for the one he thought he would have in the future?
For the first time in a long time, he missed his family. And even though he was a grown man, right now he needed a little reassurance that things would work out. He didn’t want to expose his parents to the nasty realities of his job, but he could use some unconditional encouragement, the kind only a father could provide.
He tugged his phone free from his pocket and sat staring at it for a moment, gathering up the courage to make the call. Would they hang up on him? He hadn’t spoken to them in so long, it was probably what he deserved. He shook his head and started to put the phone away, but the memory of Fiona’s face popped into his mind. She’d worn an expression of naked yearning when she spoke of missing her parents and her desire to have a family of her own. She would want him to make this call, and maybe talking to his parents would bring him a little closer to Fiona, if only in spirit.
It was better than nothing.
Taking a deep breath, he began to dial.
* * *
Big Sal waited until the detective left his office before sinking back down into his chair. What the hell had Joey done now?
Just when he thought the kid couldn’t screw up any worse, he managed to find a new level of incompetence. And now the police were involved.
His mind whirled with the implications of that realization. The police had custody of the photographs, which meant there was no way Joey could get his hands on them. Sal could get them back—he had officers on his payroll, after all—but how many people had seen them? What kind of damage had already been done?
He reached for the phone on his desk and punched out a number, trying hard not to take his anger out on the keypad. The little bastard had better pick up...
After a few rings, Joey answered. “Yeah?” He sounded out of breath, like he’d been running.
“What have
you done?” Sal wanted to yell but knew from experience he got better results by keeping his voice deadly calm.
“What do you mean?” Joey’s voice cracked. “I’m working on getting the pictures like you asked. It hasn’t been twenty-four hours yet. I still have some time!” He sounded scared, and normally Sal would have enjoyed hearing that note of fear in a subordinate’s voice. But things had come too far for that now.
“I just had a visit from a police detective. He seems to think I’m involved in kidnapping a woman who works at Ben Carter’s store. Why would he be under that impression?”
Joey sucked in a breath. “Uh,” he stammered. “She has the pictures.”
“No, she doesn’t.”
There was a pause as Joey digested this information. “How do you know that?”
Sal ground his teeth together, wishing there was something nearby he could hit. “Because the police have them.”
“Oh.”
The word sounded hollow, and Sal fought the urge to mock him. “That’s it? That’s all you can say?”
“I didn’t know,” his nephew replied, going on the defensive. “How was I supposed to know the cops have them?”
Sal shook his head. “Just bring the woman to my office,” he said. “I’ll handle things from here.”
“But, Uncle Sal—”
“No, Joey. You had your chance. You’re done. Bring the woman to me, and we’ll sort things out.”
“You’re not mad?”
Sal rolled his eyes. How could a grown man sound so much like a child? It was repellant, the way his nephew regressed when confronted with any kind of authority. “No, I’m not mad,” he lied. “Just come in so we can talk, okay?”
“Okay. I’ll see you soon, Uncle Sal.” Joey sounded relieved as he ended the call. That was good; it meant he wouldn’t be expecting any kind of punishment.
Sal slid his hand into his jacket, running his fingers over the smooth metal of his gun. Normally, he didn’t like to mete out justice himself, but in this case, he’d make an exception. Taking Joey out would go some way toward soothing his own anger, and from a practical standpoint, it kept even more people from getting involved in his business.
He leaned back in the chair, considering his next move. Damage control had to be a priority, that much was clear. He had to get those pictures back and hope that once the woman was returned safe and sound, police interest in the case would die down. Especially since her kidnapper would be dead.
Sal mulled over the speech he would give to the police. “He just showed up at my office, and he attacked me. I was forced to defend myself.” That sounded plausible. Now he just had to rehearse it enough to make it stick.
He tried out different inflections, wanting it to sound natural. The only wild card was the woman. He was going to have to provoke Joey into attacking him so that she would agree with his version of events. That shouldn’t be too hard, though. The kid had a short temper, and he was already feeling unstable.
His phone rang, breaking him out of his thoughts. He reached for it, not bothering to look at the display. “Yes?”
“Salvatore, what is going on up there?” The heavily accented female voice traveled across the line and wrapped around his guts like barbed wire. Oh, God. Isabella.
“What do you mean, mi amor?” He tried to play it cool. Maybe this was just a social call? He held his breath, hoping she was calling to chat or to set up another meeting. Please don’t let them know...
“There are pictures of us? How could you let this happen?” Isabella sounded distinctly unhappy, a fact that did not improve his own mood.
“Calm down,” he said, trying to soothe her. “I have everything under control.”
“Calm down?” she shrieked. “You dare tell me to calm down?” He winced and held the phone away from his ear as she switched to a rapid stream of Spanish, her words flowing fast and furious.
“I’m sorry,” he said, trying to be heard over the sounds of her temper. “I’m not trying to dismiss the gravity of the situation.” He spoke loudly, and she piped down, giving him an opportunity to speak. “I’m in the process of getting the photos back, and all the people who know about them are being dealt with.”
She was silent for a moment, but he could tell she wasn’t assuaged. “This is most disappointing,” she finally said, her tone dark. “We will have to reevaluate our relationship in light of this transgression.”
Sal bit his tongue to keep from firing back a defensive retort. This wasn’t his fault! But if he played that card, he’d be no better than Joey.
“I understand,” he said, proud of himself for sounding calm. “But please take into consideration the fact that I am aware of the problem and am taking steps to correct it.”
She huffed, as if his assurances held no weight with her anymore. “We will be in touch.” Her words were part threat, part promise, and they made Sal’s heart skip a beat. Then she hung up, the ring of the dial tone loud in his ear.
Sal put the phone receiver back in its cradle with a sigh. When it rained, it poured.
Time to reconsider his plan. The cartel obviously wanted blood, and he wasn’t about to give himself up as the sacrificial lamb to slaughter. But if he handed over Ben and the woman? That might just work. If the cartel had someone to blame, someone to punish, they might be satisfied with stopping there. And if he was the man to take control of the situation and turn over the ones responsible? Well, that could only work in his favor.
His alliance with the organization was probably over, but he was willing to give up the promise of more power and influence if it meant staying alive. And who knew? After a few years, once things had calmed down and he’d shown them he could be trusted, maybe they would approach him again. Either way, he had to salvage what he could now, before it got any worse.
Chapter 12
“Wake up.”
A stinging pain spread across her cheek, and Fiona moaned weakly in protest.
“Now.”
Another slap, this one harder. She blinked open her eyes, trying to shake off the heavy blanket of sleep that clung to her consciousness. A blurry form filled her vision, and she squinted in an effort to pick out details.
“Time to go.”
Fiona shook her head as she attempted to make sense of the words. Go where? What time was it? And where was she?
“Move! I don’t have time for this!”
Whoever the blur was, he sounded angry. She struggled to make her limbs obey, but they were too heavy, as if they had been filled with lead.
Something cold hit her face, and she gasped in shock. It took her a few seconds to register what had happened—someone had thrown water in her face. It ran down her neck and chest, soaking her shirt and plastering it to her skin. She shivered reflexively, but it didn’t help.
The chill helped chase away some of her mental fog, and her thoughts started to arrange themselves in logical patterns. Her home. Joey sneaking up on her, taking her here. Then the prick of the needle and the heavy weight of darkness slamming down on her.
She looked up to find him standing at the edge of the bed, his arms crossed over his chest as he frowned at her. “We’re leaving.”
“Why?” Her voice was a croak, and she stuck her tongue out to collect a few drops of water from her lips. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.
“You lied to me.”
“No—” she began, but he cut her off.
“I went to Ben’s, just to see if you were right and he still had the pictures. He was gone, but I searched his house. Nothing.”
“Maybe they’re in his car,” she suggested.
Joey shook his head, his mouth set in a determined line. “Doesn’t matter. You’re coming with me.” He wrapped his hand around her upper arm and tugged hard, dragging her off the bed.
Her head swam at the sudden change in position, and she wobbled back and forth, trying not to fall. “Where are we going?”
“I’m taking you to Big Sal
.”
Who? But she didn’t bother asking. It was hard enough standing up straight; she didn’t have the brainpower needed to figure out where they were going and why.
Joey dragged her down the hall, stopping impatiently every few steps to keep her upright. “Quit stalling!” he snarled over his shoulder.
I’m not, Fiona wanted to protest. Having to use Joey for support was equal parts disgusting and disturbing, and she wanted nothing more than to be able to walk unassisted. But the drugs he’d given her were still in her system, and her willpower was no match for their soporific effects.
He shoved her into the backseat of the car, and Fiona gave up trying to stay upright. She slumped against the door, forcing her eyes to stay open so she could try to figure out where they were and where they were going. So far, she didn’t recognize anything. Then, as Joey drove, they moved from a more remote neighborhood into the characteristic urban sprawl that surrounded Houston on all sides for miles around. The problem was that she couldn’t pick out anything identifiable yet.
The scenery grew blurry and she blinked, releasing tears that slid down her cheeks. She didn’t bother to wipe them away, and they fell on her already-damp shirt.
She had to do something. She couldn’t stay at the mercy of Joey for much longer. But what were her options? She had no weapons; she was still too groggy to effectively defend herself, and Joey was bigger and stronger.
But he’s hurt. The thought zinged through her brain like a lightning bolt. He had been shot in the shoulder while trying to rob the store, and even though it was a flesh wound, it still had to be painful. If she could somehow attack his injured shoulder, he’d be in too much agony to fight back.
And then what? She frowned, not appreciating the question. But her brain was right—she needed more of a plan if she was going to get away. Punching Joey in the shoulder was a good start, but she needed more options for what came after.
The car jerked to a stop before she could complete her thoughts. A moment later Joey yanked open the back door, taking away Fiona’s support. He grabbed her arm and pulled her out before she could fall, and she was pleased to note she was much steadier on her feet now. Still, she made herself as limp as possible so Joey wouldn’t suspect anything. She had a better shot of taking him by surprise if he didn’t think she was capable of walking on her own.