by Chris Taylor
“It wasn’t like that!” she pleaded. “Will, please, you have to understand—”
“Yes or no, Savannah. It’s that simple.” His voice was deadly calm.
She shivered under his icy facade. She’d had no idea he’d be so upset. After all, it wasn’t as if she hadn’t been to the brothel before. She knew the risks she was taking and so far, she’d been able to take care of herself. She didn’t need him to make the unilateral decision that he was now responsible for her welfare. When had she become incompetent?
Anger smoldered inside her. She could remind him how, as nice as it was to have someone looking out for her, she’d been doing an absolutely fine job on her own, thank you very much. She could tell him she didn’t appreciate him macho-ing in on her life just because they’d shared great sex and she’d agreed to move in with him. It didn’t mean he owned her.
But after taking another look at his face, as impenetrable as granite, she refrained from saying any of those things. Drawing in a deep breath, she met and held his angry gaze.
“I’m not talking about this with you right now. You’re not in the mood to listen to a thing I have to say and I refuse to compete with your anger. I apologize for deceiving you. I feel awful about doing it, but you—you left me with no choice.”
She paused and then forced herself to continue while her courage held out. “When you’ve calmed down a little and you’re ready to talk about this rationally, give me a call.”
With that, she walked across the room, unlocked the door and stepped into the corridor. Pulling the door closed behind her, she walked to the back door as quickly as her tight leather skirt and five-inch heels would allow. Relieved to find it unlocked, she let herself out into the quiet night.
* * *
“Hurry the fuck up, Kid. We ain’t got all night.”
Dylan gritted his teeth and did his best to ignore Vince’s chiding. He glanced at the dark shadows of the security guards who stood above him and cursed under his breath. At least one or two of the fuckers could have given him a hand. He hauled another carton of powder out of the cellar and tossed it up to Vince, who missed the catch. The carton tumbled to the ground and split open on impact.
“For fuck’s sake, Kid. Be careful. That shit’s worth a fortune.”
Dylan drew in a deep breath and set his mind to the task. The quicker he emptied the brothel’s cellar of drugs, the quicker he could take his leave. It couldn’t come a minute too soon. He’d had about enough of Vince and the Black Opal for tonight.
The man had become a veritable ogre of late. His demands were becoming increasingly annoying. It was only because of Vince that Dylan was contemplating killing his sister.
As if the man could read his mind, Vince stared at Dylan with a narrow-eyed gaze and leaned over the hole which led to the cellar. “You found that sister of yours, yet?”
Dylan dropped his gaze and shook his head. “Nope.”
“You can’t tell me you don’t know where she lives. She’s your fuckin’ sister.”
“I know where she lives,” he mumbled. “I’ve been busy.”
Vince laughed without humor. “Busy, my ass. Busy fuckin’ my girls. Listen to me, Kid and listen well. You’ve got two days. Two days, or I find her myself.”
CHAPTER 27
Will watched Savannah depart through the rear door of the brothel. Relief that she’d escaped unharmed warred with his anger and disappointment. Knowing there was nothing more he could do about it now, he made his way back into the main bar.
The crowd had increased tenfold. Men hovered close to the stage where another live show was about to commence. He looked around, but Maranoa had disappeared.
He cursed Savannah again. Thanks to her, he didn’t know whether the asshole had left the building or was somewhere inside it dealing with whatever was purportedly going down. Will suspected a shipment of drugs was being unloaded, but where?
He had yet to find a cellar, but that didn’t mean one didn’t exist. The most logical explanation was that it was accessed from the back of the house. It would be an easy operation to have the shipments delivered through a rear gate and unloaded. He thought of the TRG officers waiting outside, concealed in the darkness—waiting for his signal to charge. If he gave the order too soon and they came up empty handed, Maranoa would make damn sure there was nothing to find the next time around.
Obtaining another search warrant would be next to impossible. They’d already had one failed attempt. He sure as hell wasn’t going to contribute to another. There was nothing else for it: He had to find concrete evidence of Maranoa’s criminal activities; something solid enough to ensure a conviction.
Heading toward the exit, he opened the front door. Five of the bouncers he’d seen earlier now lounged along the side of the building. Another one stood to the side, smoking a cigarette. All of them looked bored and disinterested.
Will’s gut clenched with disappointment. Whatever had been planned had either already happened or hadn’t come off.
With a polite smile plastered across his lips, Will nodded goodnight to the guards and made his way along the sidewalk in the direction of his car. His thoughts turned to Max O’Connor and the near certainty that the editor was connected to Maranoa.
He recalled Savannah telling him about Max’s strange behavior. It was possible the editor had already warned Vince the police had been notified. If that was the case, they had little chance of finding him with incriminating evidence. The drug lord was way too smart for that.
Will’s shoulders slumped at the thought that yet again, the asshole had gotten away with it. Just as quickly, steely determination surged through him. He thought of Cole and his spine straightened. There was no way he was giving up.
The night was still. It was late and traffic was light. Unlocking his black BMW, Will pulled open the door and slid behind the wheel. He pulled out onto the road and took the first left and drove slowly along the darkened street that ran parallel to the brothel’s street frontage. Within moments, he spotted it. A narrow, unmarked gravel laneway ran right along the brothel’s rear boundary.
“Bingo.” He turned into the laneway and crept forward. Within moments, he spied the gate. He pulled out his cell phone and called Pete.
“Will, what have you got?” Despite the late hour, Pete’s voice was sharp.
“Not what we were hoping for. If there was going to be a haul tonight, we’re either too late or it’s been called off, but I’ve found the gate that gives the brothel access to a back lane. Now we know how they’re getting the shit into the place. I haven’t found a cellar yet, but it must be there. It’s the only thing that makes sense.
“We need to relocate the surveillance team around the back and tell them to be on the lookout for a reasonable-sized truck. Maranoa assured me tonight he’d be fully stocked with drugs again next week.”
“Good work, Will, although it’s a shame our intelligence was off about tonight. I guess the TRG boys can go home.”
“Yeah, for now, at least.”
“You go home, too. Get some rest. You’ll need to be fresh again for tomorrow. We’ll keep everybody on call until we nail these pricks. If Maranoa said he’d be back in business next week, it won’t be long.” Pete paused and then added, “Oh, by the way, I hear congratulations are in order.”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“You could sound a little more enthusiastic. Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts already?”
Will sighed. “No, but I can’t say the same thing about Savannah. After tonight, who knows what she’s thinking?”
“What do you mean, after tonight? Did you two have an argument?”
“No, well, yes, I guess. Pete, she was here again tonight, after I specifically told her not to come. She left me thinking she was going to spend a nice quiet evening packing her things at her condominium and what happens? I’m in the Black Opal, doing my best to work out what Maranoa’s up to, when Savannah strolls through the door dressed to k
ill. Next minute she’s serving at Maranoa’s table.”
“Shit, are you kidding me?” Pete was incredulous. “I warned her off that place, too. Damn, I’m going to kill her!”
“You’ll have to wait in line.” Will’s voice was drier than sandpaper.
“What the hell does she think she’s doing? Is she trying to get herself killed? This guy is serious. The body count around him keeps piling up. He’s not going to let a journalist come in and sabotage everything. How could she be so stupid?”
“Exactly. And now that I’m almost certain her editor is in the thick of it, her actions were even more reckless. For all we know, Max might have already identified Savannah to Maranoa.”
Pete’s voice sharpened. “What’s this about O’Connor?”
Will went on to tell his boss about the altered newspapers and discovering the Daily Mirror’s editor was a friend of Maranoa’s.
“Were you able to find anything on him?” Will asked.
“Well, he doesn’t have a record. Apart from a few minor traffic offences, he’s as clean as a whistle. I did a background check on his finances. Both parents died years ago. Interestingly, they were murdered during an armed robbery.”
Pete went on. “They owned a corner store in Marrickville, but didn’t leave anything very substantial as far as assets went. There was the family home in Marrickville. It was sold, but even that wouldn’t account for the way O’Connor’s living now. We’re talking fifteen, twenty years ago. He’s got a penthouse suite overlooking the harbor at Vaucluse and there are at least three luxury sports cars registered under his name. Not to mention—”
“Hang on a minute,” Will interrupted. “Where did you say his parents lived?”
“Marrickville, I think. Just give me a second and I’ll go and get the file.”
A few minutes later, Pete was back on the phone. “Here it is. Yeah, O’Connor sold a house in Marrickville seventeen years ago. Must have hung onto it for a while after his parents died. Far as I can tell, there are no siblings.”
Adrenaline pumped through Will’s veins. “Pete, I’m sure Maranoa went to school in Marrickville. I remember reading it in his file. Surely, that has to be more than a coincidence?”
“Leave it with me. I’ll have someone go back a bit further, find out where O’Connor went to school. Maybe the two of them go back that far?”
“One of the bartender’s at the Black Opal said Maranoa and Max having a long history. Maybe that’s the link? They could have been friends since high school.”
“Okay, first things first. Let me contact the surveillance team and tell them to get their asses around the back. I’ll go into the station early tomorrow and run a few more searches on O’Connor, see what I come up with. In the meantime, I think we need to assume our friend has talked to Maranoa about Savannah. If Max is involved, it would be stupid to assume Savannah’s articles haven’t been discussed. I can only imagine how Vince has reacted to them.”
Fear tightened Will’s gut. “I need to warn her. Tell her to keep a look out. Any chance of posting an officer outside her place?”
Pete sighed. “You know the system as well as I do. There’s no way we’re going to get approval for a protection detail without any evidence of a threat, but it wouldn’t hurt to tell Savannah to be a little more aware of who’s around her. Just do it as diplomatically as you can,” he added dryly. “I don’t want her too scared to step out of her living room. After all, we don’t know anything for sure, yet.”
“You’re right. No sense in alarming her unnecessarily. If I wasn’t so mad at her, I’d pull security detail myself,” Will growled.
“It might be best if I—”
“It’s fine, Pete. I’ll call her when I get home.” Will paused. “We’re getting close, Pete. I can feel it.”
“Yeah, let’s hope so. It’s time we nailed these assholes.”
“You have that right. Oh, I almost forgot—Savannah told me earlier that she’d seen one of the security guards from the paper at the brothel. Apparently, he works there as a bouncer: just another coincidence.”
“One too many, if you ask me.”
“I agree. O’Connor and the paper are the link, Pete. Get back to me as soon as you can.”
“Yeah, will do.”
“Oh, by the way, do you know anything about a young bloke who goes by the name of Billy the Kid? He was here tonight with Maranoa. The barman said he was Vince’s right hand man.”
“What’s he look like?”
“Can’t really tell you. I only saw him from a distance and he was seated. Dark hair, young, well built. About all I could see.”
“Doesn’t ring any bells, but I’ll run his name through the system. See if we get a hit.”
“Sounds good.” Ending the call with a sigh, Will switched on the ignition and turned his car in the direction of home.
* * *
Tired and drained from his long night and the thoughts of Savannah that continued to whirl around in his head, Will arrived at his condo, stepped out of his clothes and straight into the shower. Moments later, he collapsed into bed. The dials on his alarm clock read three fifty-five. His head throbbed from a lack of sleep and his eyes were full of grit.
He still had to call Savannah. Not that she’d be likely to listen to him. Hadn’t she castigated him only hours earlier about his overprotectiveness?
Just like that, his anger resurfaced. He recalled the look she’d tossed him as she’d told him to call her when he was ready to talk to her rationally. Hell, the way he felt at the moment, rational might never be part of his vocabulary again.
He couldn’t believe how helpless he’d felt when he’d been forced to stand halfway across the room and watch her being mauled by the head of Sydney’s underworld. Her reckless stupidity ignited a fury that even now, continued to smolder.
And for what? She knew damn well there was an extremely dangerous covert police operation going on and yet she’d blithely ignored all of that, including both his and her editor’s order to stay away from the place.
Savannah didn’t know Max was probably mixed up with Maranoa. Whether she agreed with her editor’s reasons for vetoing any stories about the Black Opal or not, the fact was, she’d been told to stay away and she’d waltzed on into the brothel as if she’d had every right to be there.
Groaning aloud in frustration, he threw himself out of bed, unable to stay still a minute longer. Pacing up and down his bedroom, naked but for a pair of satin boxer shorts, he struggled to get control of his temper so that he could think rationally. He drew in a couple of deep breaths and flung himself back on his bed.
He scrubbed at his hair and grimaced. His fists clenched and he groaned again. A moment later, he sighed heavily and the anger seeped out of him. If they were ever going to make a life together they’d have to learn to work through their differences. Besides, he’d told Pete he’d call her.
He reached over to the nightstand for his cell phone and composed a text message.
Hi there. Bed feels v lonely without u. I’m sorry 4 things I said. R u ready 2 talk?
Pressing “send” on his phone, he stretched back out on the bed and stacked his hands under his head. Now that he’d had time to calm down, he could see why she’d been upset about the way he’d handled the situation. Or, more importantly, the way he’d handled her. Until yesterday, she’d been living her life on her own terms without having to consider anyone else—apart from her brother. She’d been looking out for herself and Dylan for a long time and had obviously managed it successfully.
He could almost understand how his order for her to stay at home might be unwelcome—even be perceived as arrogant. Who was he, after all, to tell her what to do? He sure as hell wouldn’t be pleased if she suddenly started giving him orders about what he could and couldn’t do.
His phone beeped to indicate a new text message. He sat up in a hurry and reached for it. It was from Savannah. His heart leaped into his throat.
Thx
4 that. In bed wide awake. Thinking of u. Can I come over?
His heart accelerated. He quickly sent off a reply.
Sooner the better.
* * *
Dylan paced up and down the largely deserted platform of the train station and tried to curb his impatience. The train was late. He wanted to do it now, before his cocaine high wore off and the sun was up. With a bit of luck, Savannah would be home in bed. He already knew she was alone.
He’d spied her boyfriend at the Black Opal. The asshole had been drinking at the bar and hadn’t seen him. Dylan took it as a good sign: Tonight was the night.
The bright lights of the approaching train cut through the blackness of the tunnel. Relief surged through him. Savannah’s condo was less than ten minutes away. With a bit of luck, he’d be in and out before her neighbors began to stir after their Saturday night revelries.
The train screeched to a halt. The smell of engine oil and grease infiltrated his nostrils, turning his gut. The doors slid open. He stepped onto the train. Less than a handful of bleary-eyed passengers filled the compartment. Not one of them looked up.
He took a seat furthest away from the other passengers and turned to stare out the window into the darkness. His body pressed against the bulge in his jacket pocket. He took comfort from the presence of the gun.
It was the same one he’d used on the bum. He’d pocketed it straight after they’d finished emptying the cellar. After the debacle of his last attempt, he wasn’t taking any chances. Savannah and anyone who was with her, would be dead before daybreak.
* * *
Savannah read the text message from Will a second time and smiled. Her heart did a flip flop. She was still mad at the way he’d spoken to her, but now that she’d had time to think about it and had calmed down a little, she could see he’d only had the best of intentions when he’d told her to stay at home. He’d said it because he’d wanted to protect her and it made her feel warm inside that he cared enough to look out for her.