Chance Collision

by C. A. Szarek

  Well, the ride wasn’t so bad, even though it wasn’t his Hummer.

  Luca turned the wheel on the black BMW the stupid—dead—fucker Frankie Mancini had driven to the motel where he’d tried to kill him. Must have driven it all the way from New York, if the licence plates were any indication. A big sedan, it was a smooth glide, and now it was his.

  Fuck Caselli.

  He should have called his ex-boss and told him how he’d enjoyed popping Frankie. How he’d got off on whacking his stupid fucking nephew. Luca would definitely do it over.

  No going home now. He was on his own.

  Sure as hell wouldn’t make it easy for Caselli to take another swipe at him.

  When he’d left the motel, Luca had stolen new plates for his new car and searched the crap out of the whole vehicle as soon as he’d risked stopping. Ended up back in Antioch, in the darkest corner of the lowest level in the small parking garage of the mall. No one even looked at him. He’d spotted a few cameras, but he’d parked as strategically as he could. Tried to be out of camera view, but it was hard to tell. Hopefully Big Brother wasn’t watching him.

  There was a couple of grand in a small suitcase in the trunk of the Beemer. Adding it to the ten thousand dollars he’d taken back from the drug addict driver, he had enough to get by for a few weeks—maybe.

  Luca would get a new job. He knew people. Even had some family in California.

  He’d head that way and pay them a visit. Maybe his cousins would be ticked off enough to go after Caselli.

  But before he could go, he had some business left in Antioch.

  Caselli had ordered him to leave the witness alone.

  Fuck. That.

  Besides, the bitches had seen him. He needed to take care of it now that his boss had abandoned him.

  Luca was out of a home, a job. Caselli had a tendency to screw you over every way he could until he found your ass and had you killed. He’d have to be careful. Tie up all the loose ends. Lie low when he left Texas.

  Hell, he’d have to lie low when he got settled at his uncle’s place. His old boss knew way too much about him. If the man figured out he’d made it out of Texas alive, no state would be safe. Probably would be able to make a simple phone call to have him killed in California. No telling if the man had friends on the West Coast.

  Caselli might be afraid of a little bloodshed, but Luca wasn’t.

  Guess who doesn’t get to pick anymore?

  The bigger the body count, the more of a fuck you it would be to Tony Caselli, Jr.

  Luca smiled.

  The old woman was staying at the rehab centre. Berto’s whore had been her nurse. It wouldn’t take a genius to find out who the redhead was and get her there. Then he could kill them both. Take out any cops who might be hanging around. Maybe even that blond guy who had been with her the day he’d killed Mickey. That fucker had shot at him.

  “I love when I’m right.”

  It’d only taken about ten minutes to find out the redheaded chick’s name was Nikki Harper and her grandmother, Molly Jenkins, was most indeed still at the rehab centre.

  He’d even found out her doctor’s name was Michael Bishop, and the night-time doc currently working at Health Solutions was one Marcus Greene.

  “Damn, I’m good.” Luca rubbed his hands together.

  It was gonna be almost as good as blowing something up.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Pete tilted the girl’s chin up into the dim light of the old shed. Angry black and blue marks covered her throat. The bruises jumped when she swallowed. “Did he rape you?” he asked.

  “He paid like anyone else. He was just rough about it.” Her words were so matter-of-fact he had to bite back a cringe. Like getting choked was a part of her acceptable day-to-day.

  “You want to press charges for the assault?” Pete asked. He knew what her answer would be, but it wouldn’t hurt to put it out there. It was something substantial enough to slap on a warrant if they needed it.

  The prostitute smirked and shook her head. Her pale blue eyes flashed, daring him to contradict her.

  “You sure it was him?” Lee asked, leaning closer to examine her marred skin.

  “He didn’t sound like he was from around here,” she said.

  Pete released her and she took a step back. He glanced at Raleigh, who was standing to the side, arms crossed over his thin chest.

  “Like an accent?” Lee asked.

  “Yup. Up north or some shit.”

  “Tell him everything, Misty,” Raleigh said.

  “He paid me extra—a lot extra—to do a little surgery.”

  “Surgery?” Pete asked.

  “He had a bullet in his right arm. I dug it out for him. Bought meds and stuff from CVS. Wrapped him up.”

  Lee shot him a look.

  Definitely Marchetti.

  “Where’d he take you?”

  “Motel 6 on Main, but he’s not there anymore. When my pim—friend—went to kick his ass for roughing me up, all his shit was gone. Someone else was in the room.”

  Pete smirked. Friend. Right. He wasn’t bringing her in, but he didn’t feel the need to call her out, either.

  “I told him to leave off the guy anyway,” Raleigh said. “I’d bet money he’s the one who killed Billy.”

  “What did he look like, Misty?” Pete didn’t doubt it, either. The girl had had a run-in with Luciano Marchetti. But he wanted to hear everything.

  “Not as tall as you. Dark hair. Evil-as-fuck brown eyes. But he knows how to dress. His pants and shirt were designer. Had a couple of guns.”

  Yup, their guy. Pete had a screenshot of Marchetti from the grocery store surveillance footage on his cell. He dug his hand in his pocket. “Crap.”

  Lee glanced at him. “What?”

  “I left my damn phone in the truck.”

  “Ah. No worries, I have him on mine, too.” Lee pulled up the picture on her cell phone. Held it up for Misty. “This him?”

  “Yes. That’s the fucking bastard.”

  “Good deal,” Lee said.

  “Anything else you can think of?” Pete asked.

  Misty shook her head. “Kick him in the balls when you find him.”

  Pete chuckled. “Gladly. Here’s my card.”

  “I can’t take that. If my pim—friend, my friend—finds out I talked to you, he’ll kick my ass.”

  “All right. If you need me, Raleigh can find me.” Pete looked at his CI. “You hear anything, you call me again, got it?”

  “Yeah, boss, you know it.”

  Pete sighed as they headed out to the pickup. “Another fricking dead end.”

  “Nah, we found out where he was. Wanna go check out that motel?”

  “Tonight?”

  Lee shrugged. “We’re already out.”

  “Woulda thought you’d rather call Nate back. It’s not even ten.”

  She smiled. “I got all night for your little bro.”

  Laughing, Pete opened the driver side door. “More than I wanted to know.”

  The FBI agent winked.

  His phone lighting up from the cup holder caught his attention and he grabbed it after climbing onto the bench seat of his Silverado.

  Damn. Six missed calls from four different people. And a text from Nikki. Three voicemails, but he wasn’t going to take time to listen right now. “Shit.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  Pete met Lee’s dark eyes. “Sorry, but Nate’ll have to wait. And we’ll have to check out the motel in the morning.”

  The phone ringing made him jump and Lee shot him a look, but she said nothing as he put his cell to his ear.

  “Crane.”

  “You been listening to the radio?” Jared Manning asked without preamble.

  “No, dude, but you should answer your phone. I called you earlier,” Pete said.

  “Sorry. Been over at The Spring Inn.”

  “That the place off the highway, right outside of town?”

  “Y
up.”

  “That’s not ours. No jurisdiction over there.” Something had to be up.

  “Nope, but I met my buddy over here, he gave me a heads-up. He’s a detective with the Sheriff’s Office. He knows what we’re workin’,” Jared said.

  “What happened?”

  “A guy with a New York driver licence, said to have been driving a nice black Beemer, got himself shot.”

  “Marchetti.”

  “No. Name’s Francis Mancini. Agent Dawson know him?”

  Pete put Jared on speaker phone. “G’head and ask her. She’s with me.”

  “Agent Dawson, the name Francis Mancini ring a bell?”

  “Frankie the House, yeah. I know him.” Lee nodded when Pete caught her eye.

  “The House?” Jared asked.

  “Because he’s a big SOB. You got him in lockup or something?”

  “Not exactly,” Jared said.

  “Shit. Luca got himself an expiration date,” Lee said.

  “Yeah, but look who expired first,” Pete said. “We’re headed over to the rehab centre, but we’ll keep our eye out for a black BMW. Did you put out a BOLO?”

  “The deputy first on scene did when the owner of this place reported seeing it. Late model, one of the big sedans, the six or seven series.”

  “All right. You hear anything, keep us posted.”

  “You bet, thought you’d want to know,” Jared said.

  “Hey, Jar, thanks for all your help on this one.”

  “Anytime, bud.”

  “This is bad.” Lee shook her head when Pete shoved his cell in his jeans. “If Luca killed The House, he knows Caselli’s turned on him.”

  “Over Mickey Donati?”

  “Blood is thicker than water, even if the guy’s skull was just as thick. Caselli’s sister’s kid and all.”

  Pete’s gut tightened. A feeling of dread settled over him and he tried to shake it off. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and pulled out of the parking lot behind the warehouse.

  The old shed they’d been in looked even more dilapidated when the headlights of his truck passed over it.

  “What’re you thinking?” he asked, turning the Silverado onto Commerce Street.

  “Luca… He’s going to do something stupid.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “He’s smart, and cruel, like Cole Lucas said. But worse, he’s desperate. We’re in for it.”

  “Obviously he took the Beemer. You don’t think he’d just get the hell out of Dodge? He killed the guy. Knows there’re more where Frankie Mancini came from. Caselli doesn’t stop until you’re dead, if he wants you dead. I mean, didn’t you guys have to put Maldonado and Gallo in protective custody right off the bat last year?”

  “Yeah, we did. But him running? I think it’s too much to hope for. Not just yet. I mean, he’s stayed all this time. Two attempts on Maria. Failed to kill her and Alberto Carbone.”

  “Shit.” Pete slammed his palm into the steering wheel. His heart pounded and sweat broke out on his brow that had nothing to do with the heat of the Texas summer evening.

  Something’s wrong, his gut shouted.

  He told it to hush and focused on what his temporary partner was saying.

  “Yeah.” Lee sighed. “We better head out to both motels tonight, even if the body isn’t in your jurisdiction. There might be some Luca evidence in either room.”

  “You’re right, we probably should. But I can’t until I know Nikki’s back with me—us—safe. And I want to slap another cop on her grandmother at the rehab centre.”

  “Not a bad idea. At least we don’t have to worry about the Carbones—Matas—or whatever they’re calling themselves. Madison and the marshals have their protection handled.”

  Yes, but that meant he had to worry about Nikki and her gram more.

  “Shit, shit, shit. I want this bastard. Wanna know where he is now. I want to cuff his ass, or shoot his ass. Don’t know which one appeals more.”

  Lee smiled, but it was grim. “C’mon, let’s go get your girl.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “Ms Harper, please.”

  “This is she. Who’s this?”

  “Dr Greene from Health Solutions. I’m calling about your grandmother.”

  Nikki’s heart sped up and she swallowed back a gulp. “What’s wrong?”

  “I need you to come down here right away. Can you do that for me?”

  “What’s going on?”

  “We’ll discuss it in detail when you get here. Don’t worry, but hurry.” The doctor’s voice was firm and fear gripped her gut.

  It’s bad. So bad he won’t tell me over the phone. “Why won’t you tell me what happened?”

  “Dr Bishop is on his way. We’ll both meet you, Ms Harper.”

  She ended the call and rushed up the stairs to Pete’s room, throwing on the closest pair of her jeans. Nikki didn’t bother taking off her tank, just yanked a T-shirt over it. She needed to go. Now.

  Dialling his cell number, she sucked in a breath and shouted at herself to calm down. “You’ve reached Detective Pete Crane, from Antioch Police…”

  “Dammit. Voicemail.” She tried again, only to get the same.

  Nikki didn’t leave a message.

  She grabbed her purse and locked the house. After dashing across the street, she yanked the door handle of the cruiser as she reached it. Nikki slipped into the passenger seat as soon as Officer Shannon Crowley hit the unlock button.

  “Take me to Health Solutions,” Nikki demanded.

  “Whoa, what’s wrong?”

  Meeting his amber eyes, she took another breath. “I need to get to the rehab centre. My grandmother’s doctor called.”

  “I’m calling Crane.”

  “I tried, twice. Voicemail.”

  But Shannon wasn’t listening to her. He already had his cell to his ear. “You’re right. Did you leave a message?”

  “No. Shannon, please. Please take me. Something’s wrong.”

  He hesitated. “I would feel better if we got a hold of Crane.”

  “I would, too. But I don’t have time. The doctor called…” Fear squeezed her chest and her eyes smarted. She blinked tears away.

  Do not cry right now.

  Shannon sighed and dragged his hand through his dark hair. “I’m clearing it with Sarge before we go.”

  “Okay, I’ll text Pete, I promise.” Nikki sent a quick message to her detective as the officer called Sergeant Stein.

  He started the cruiser after Chloe gave him the okay to take Nikki and assured them she’d try to get a hold of Pete, too.

  “I don’t like this,” Shannon murmured as he headed down the street.

  “I don’t either.” She clutched her phone, praying Pete was okay. He hadn’t answered her message.

  But then her grandmother took over her thoughts. The doctor’s words kept rolling over and over in her head. Don’t worry, but hurry.

  What if it was Gram’s heart again? She couldn’t lose her grandmother.

  As soon as he’d turned into the flat lot of the rehab centre, Nikki jumped out of the cruiser before Shannon had even pulled to a full stop.

  “Nikki, wait a second,” he shouted.

  Ignoring him, she rushed into Health Solutions. She heard the rattle of Shannon’s keys and the leather of his gun belt creaking as he jogged to keep up with her. Nikki didn’t slow or wait for him.

  When she rounded the corner towards Gram’s room, the cop outside the door shot to his feet as soon as she and Shannon were in sight.

  “Where’s the fire?” Officer Joe Benton asked, his palms up.

  She sucked in a breath and made herself skid to a stop. “Is Gram all right?”

  “Yes.” Joe thumbed in the direction of the door, left ajar. “The nurse is in there now. Giving her night meds. But she’s been watching TV and talking to me most of the evening.”

  Nikki pushed her way into the room. She had to see for herself her grandmother was
okay.

  Please be all right.

  Both cops followed her.

  “Dr Greene called me…”

  She didn’t miss the look Joe and Shannon exchanged, but she ignored them, heading straight for the nurse.

  It was the tall black girl, Rebecca. One of the nurses who’d taken care of Gram the night Maria had got shot.

  “Nikki-baby,” Gram said, smiling as she set her empty water cup on Rebecca’s tray.

  “Rebecca, what’s going on?” Nikki asked.

  Wide dark eyes met hers. “What’d you mean?”

  “Dr Greene called me.”

  “I don’t like this,” Shannon muttered. He grabbed his cell and started dialling, turning his back to them as he made the call.

  Joe tensed, his hand hovering over his holstered gun.

  “He did?” Rebecca asked, but her eyes darted from cop to cop.

  The bedding rustled as Gram sat up straighter. “Nikki, is something wrong?”

  Nikki moved to the bedside, taking her grandmother’s hand. “I’m not sure.”

  “I’ll go get Dr Greene. I’m sure he’ll straighten things out.” Rebecca spiked the paper water cup in the trashcan and tucked the tray under her arm.

  Sighing, Nikki dragged a chair to Gram’s side. She slipped into it, shaking her head.

  “Shit.” Shannon pocketed his phone, his eyes darting to her grandmother. “Sorry, ma’am.”

  Gram flashed a grin. “Please, boy. Heard and said worse.”

  “What’s wrong?” Nikki asked.

  “Still can’t get Crane. But Sarge is starting over this way.”

  “Good,” Joe said. He surveyed the room and Nikki’s stomach jumped.

  He was young—a few years younger than her. He’d only been off training for a few months.

  Nikki wanted Pete.

  “Where’s your detective, Nikki-baby?” Gram asked, as if she’d read her mind.

  “He had to interview someone.”

  Gram nodded, but Nikki didn’t get a chance to comment before Rebecca stepped into the room with Dr Greene on her heels.

  Tall and lanky, the young doctor had both hands in the wide pockets of his white coat. His fair brows were drawn tight as he came closer. “Ms Harper, I didn’t call you.”

  “Son of a bitch,” Joe and Shannon said at the same time.

  Nikki leant forward in the chair, dread rolling over her. “What?”