Still of the Night

by Dee Davis

  His eyes widened, and she immediately realized her mistake.

  "I'm sorry, Andy." She reached out to touch his hand. "I didn't mean to sound so harsh. It's just that it's all so fresh in my mind, you know?"

  He turned his hand so that his covered hers. "It's me who should be sorry. I shouldn't have been so flip. It's just part of the job, I guess. You have to get tough fast or it'll eat you alive."

  In more ways than one, she thought, but swallowed the last of her anger in a grimace. "I don't see how you do it."

  "To make the world a better place and all that." Andy shrugged. "I just wish you hadn't gotten caught up in Connor's problems. We ID'd the body in your house. Not a nice guy. Connected all the way to the top, if you know what I mean."

  "He was the one following me on the train."

  "And you killed him." There was a flash of disbelief in his eyes, and she braced herself. "I had no idea you were such a marksman."

  "I'm not." She blew out a breath. "But Connor taught me the basics. And despite the fact that I hate the things, he kept a .38 in the bedside drawer."

  "But he wasn't living there anymore."

  "I know. I'd forgotten about it. But when I heard someone trying to break in, I remembered it was there. Thank God." She rubbed her arms, her fear the genuine article. "Or he'd have killed me."

  "Still, it was a hell of a shot." Andy's eyebrows rose in question.

  "Adrenaline and luck." She picked at the edge of her coffee cup. "Look, I know I should have called you. Or the police. But I was so afraid, Andy. And I just needed some distance. I couldn't be in the same room with the body. You understand that, don't you?"

  He studied her face and nodded, seemingly accepting her version of events. "I only wish I could have been with you."

  "So do you think that now that he's dead, I'll be safe?"

  "I don't think so. Connor was mixing with a really bad lot. The kind that don't respect law and order. Until I can run it all to ground, I think you're better off staying out of sight."

  She pretended to consider his advice, staring down into her now-cold latte. "Where would I stay?"

  "Not at the hotel. If I can find you there, they can, too." He sat back, watching her. "Why don't you come stay with me? My apartment's not that far from here. And since there's no obvious connection, you should be safe there."

  "All right." She had no choice but to agree; the trick was to make arrangements to meet him there. "But I need to get my things."

  "I can do that for you."

  "Don't be silly. You have more important things to do. Why don't I retrieve my stuff and meet you there?"

  Andy pursed his lips. "I don't like the idea of your being out there on your own again."

  "It'll only be for a few minutes. Besides, with Sammy Lacuzo dead, maybe that'll be the end of it."

  His eyes narrowed as he considered her words. "I wouldn't count on it, Jen."

  There was something in his tone that scared her, but there was no sense taking more of a chance than she already was. Best to get free while she had the chance. Connor would know what to do next.

  "Come on, let's get out of here." She pasted on a smile. "The sooner I get my stuff, the sooner I'll be safe at your place."

  He rose, too, falling into step beside her, his body brushing up against hers as they walked through the door. Outside, the cold winter wind whistled around them, swirls of snowflakes glinting in the streetlights.

  Andy slid an arm around her, pulling her close, and something hard pressed against her side. She glanced down at the space between them, the hard metal of a gun shining in the half-light. "Your mistake, Jenny," he said, "was mentioning Sammy. I never said his name."

  She started to struggle, opening her mouth to scream, but before she could utter a word, he tightened his hold. "I wouldn't do that if I were you. Not unless you want a lot of innocent blood on your hands." He motioned toward a passing mother and toddler.

  Jenny shook her head, trying to rein in her fear.

  "That's my girl," her captor whispered. "I'm sorry it has to be like this. But if you know Sammy's name, then someone had to tell you. And before we terminate our relationship, I need to find out who."

  *****

  Connor jumped out of the taxi almost before the man could pull it to a full stop, throwing a wad of bills through the driver's window. He sprinted the remaining distance between the cab and Starbucks, sliding to a stop just inside the door.

  Jen wasn't there.

  Damn it, she wasn’t there.

  Back on the street he scanned both directions, forcing himself to remain calm. Panic was a worthless emotion. A blur of blue caught his eye, and his heart resumed beating. Jen. It was her scarf. He'd given it to her for Christmas the previous year.

  In absentia.

  He raced for the corner, rounding it with a sliding sprint. The woman and her companion were only a few yards ahead of him. The man, with his arm around her, was whispering something in her ear. The woman laughed, tipping her head back, her face illuminated by the streetlight.

  It wasn't Jen.

  Connor cursed himself and stopped. His mistake had cost him valuable time. Backtracking, he made his way again to Starbucks. It was late, and they were closing. A woman with a broom waved him away, but she changed her tune when he flashed his credentials.

  "I'm looking for a man and a woman who were in here maybe half an hour ago."

  The young woman raised multipierced eyebrows in question. "The place was packed. There were a lot of couples."

  "The guy is white, medium height, cropped brown hair, solid build. Has a military tattoo on his left forearm."

  The clerk shook her head. "Except for the tattoo, that describes half of New York."

  "I know." Connor nodded in frustration. "Maybe you'll remember the woman. She's also white. Short and really vivacious. The kind that talks with her hands. She has blond hair, probably in a ponytail, and dark blue eyes. She was probably nervous."

  Again the woman shook her head. "I'd love to help you. But this is a crazy time of year. There are so many people in and out of here—"

  "Wait." Connor held up a hand, reaching for his wallet with the other. He pulled it out and produced a worn photo of Jen. "Here's a picture."

  She took it from him, holding it up to the light, then shook her head. "Nope. Doesn't look familiar. But let me ask Javier." She yelled for the guy behind the counter, and he emerged wiping his hands on a dishtowel.

  Connor explained himself again, and Javier took a look at the photo, squinting so that he could see it better. "Yeah. I remember her." He nodded. "Decaf, venti, nonfat latte."

  "Was she with a man?"

  The guy scrunched his face, trying to remember. "Not at first. I remember thinking it was a shame a woman like that was on her own." His smile faded as he met Connor's gaze. "But then another guy came in. I remember him because he just ordered coffee." His disdain was apparent and had the situation not been so dire, Connor would have laughed.

  "Big guy, buzz cut?"

  "Yeah, that's one. He was kinda quiet-like. And I remember he went over to sit with the lady"

  "How long ago was it?"

  "Not too long." Javier frowned, "They talked for a while, and then left together. Maybe twenty minutes ago."

  "You saw them leave?"

  "Yeah. I was out front, smoking."

  Connor's blood pressure ratcheted up a notch. "Did you see which way they went?"

  Javier scrunched up his face again, his nose wrinkling with the effort. "I'm not positive, but I think they turned east on Astor, heading toward St. Mark's."

  "Thanks." Connor reached out to shake the man's hand, then sprinted out the door and onto the sidewalk. The snow was falling heavily now, coming down in quiet curtains that muffled the usual sounds of the city.

  The street was deserted, most people at home with loved ones, enjoying the last of Christmas Eve. Despite the panic that was licking at his brain, he forced himself to stop and
think. He needed to consider Andy's options. If the man had plans to kill Jen, he'd want somewhere quiet. But transporting her would be risky.

  Which ruled out Andy's apartment, because it was uptown on the West Side. Too far. And too public. Since technically Andy's office was the precinct, that ruled it out as well. It wasn't exactly the kind of place one chose to off a witness.

  Connor shivered as his mind summoned a vivid image, but then he pushed the picture aside. He had to keep his cool, or Jen was dead. It was as simple as that.

  Nico Furello worked out of a washateria in Hell's Kitchen. Again, it would be too public for Andy's taste. And it would be too easy to document his involvement with Nico if anything went wrong. There was a warehouse near the East River registered in Nico's old man's name that Connor suspected was where Andy and Nico were moving the drugs, but he hadn't been able to get tangible proof. Still, it seemed a likely place for Andy to take Jen. Especially since it wasn't that far away. And if Javier was right, they had headed in the right direction. Connor lifted a hand to hail a cab, then dropped his arm. Better to run. With the weather, he'd be faster on his feet. He'd be able to cut through any traffic and hopefully make better time.

  He headed in the direction of the warehouse, tracing the path that Javier had indicated, moving onward through the snow, pushing from a sprint to an all-out run. If the kid had been accurate, Andy had about a half an hour's lead, which could easily mean that it was too late. Hell, truth was, Connor didn't even know for certain that they were at the warehouse.

  But Andy was a creature of habit, and it was his best option. Connor simply wouldn't accept the fact that it was too late. He'd walked away from Jen once, and he sure as hell wasn't going to do it again.

  CHAPTER NINE

  "Tell me who's been helping you," Andy hissed, his frustration evident in the lines of his face.

  "You," Jenny answered, trying to keep her voice calm. "You're the one who is supposed to be helping me."

  They were in some kind of a warehouse. Open crates and some kind of a workstation were off to her left. A makeshift office was to her right. The rest of the warehouse was filled with pallets of boxes and crates. The lighting was dim, and the room was just barely above freezing. Not the kind of place for holding out. But that was exactly what she intended to do.

  "How did you know it was Sammy Lacuzo?" Andy asked, ignoring her barbed comments completely. But then, that seemed to be the routine. He'd ask a question; she'd respond with some kind of noncomment. Then he'd ignore her outburst, instead asking her another question. Tit for tat.

  Except that she was sitting in a chair with her hands and feet tied, and Andy had a gun.

  "I always make it a point to know who it is I shoot." The minute it was out, she regretted the flip nature of the response. As much as she might wish it so, this wasn't a game.

  "Damn it, Jen, I need to know who's helping you." Andy's frustration was edged with something else, and Jenny realized it was fear.

  "The big boys too much for you?" she asked, attempting to capitalize on her advantage.

  "Hardly," Andy snarled. "Now tell me how you knew Lacuzo."

  "There's nothing to tell. I recognized him. His picture is always in the papers." Not that she'd seen, of course, but with papers like the Daily News and the Post, anything was possible. And she sure as hell wasn't going to tell Andy that Connor was alive.

  Andy leaned back against a table that was serving as a desk, tapping his gun against his thigh. "Even if that's true, I still don't buy that you took a pro like him down with one shot."

  "I told you, I was lucky.”

  He shook his head in protest, but she cut him off. "Look, I was on the stairway and he was in the foyer, so the angle played to my advantage." She shrugged, trying to look more at ease than the situation warranted.

  "Bullshit." Andy jumped up, his obvious agitation ratcheting up her fear.

  "I'm telling you the truth," she snapped, trying to compensate for her quivering insides.

  "So where did you learn to shoot?"

  She licked her lips. This was going nowhere fast. "I told you, Connor taught me."

  "But you said you hated guns."

  "I do," she said through gritted teeth, grateful for the anger cutting through her fear. "But you know as well as I do that what Connor wants, Connor gets." She sucked in a breath, waiting to see if Andy noticed her use of present tense.

  "Isn't that the goddamned truth," Andy said, his own anger apparent.

  "Andy, there's no one working with me. I swear it," she said, trying to steer the conversation from Connor, afraid her face would give too much away. "I'm not lying to you. And even if I were it'd be par for the course. It's not like you've exactly been honest with me. You're the one working both sides of the street."

  "Let's just say I'm making the most of my connections." He shrugged. "When opportunity knocks, sometimes you just have to answer."

  "No matter who gets hurt?"

  "Yeah." He looked down at the floor, sighed, and then looked up again, his eyes full of regret. "I really do wish it could be different."

  "Me too." She swallowed a rush of bile, forcing a smile. "I thought you cared about me."

  For a moment his face softened, emotions battling; then he shook his head, as if chasing off offending thoughts. "What I feel for you is moot at this point. You are a danger to me and to those I work with. It's as simple as that."

  "It can't be that simple. I'm not a commodity. I'm a person. A person you know really well. I'd even hoped that with Connor gone .. ." She let the words trail off, praying she sounded provocative.

  "Too bad." He circled closer, tracing her cheek with the barrel of his gun. "I'd have enjoyed that."

  She fought not to pull away, her gaze holding his.

  "But it's too late." He stepped back, his voice cold. "Besides, you're still in love with Connor. I can see it in your face when you talk about him. Even dead, the bastard has one up on me."

  "He was your friend" She couldn't help the tone of her voice; Andy's betrayal bit deep.

  "He was a self-righteous prick. Thought he always knew what was best. Look at what he did to you."

  "No." She opened her mouth to refute the fact and realized the truth would reveal Connor's plan. "Whatever he did, I drove him to it."

  "Like hell." Andy's brows rose. "I saw the two of you together, remember? No man ever had it better than Connor. He was just too stupid to realize it."

  "And now you're going to do the same thing?" It was a long shot, but if it kept her alive, it was more than worth it.

  "What do you mean?" Andy frowned, coming closer.

  "I mean that if you kill me, you're throwing me away, too. Just like Connor. Without ever giving us a chance."

  "I'm not exactly an exemplary citizen, Jenny."

  "Maybe I don't care." She met his skeptical gaze, careful to keep her own steady.

  Andy took a step back, studying her, considering the possibilities.

  "Oh, Christ, man, can't you see when you're being played?" A wiry young man with a scraggly beard stepped from the shadows, his eyes colder than any Jenny had ever seen.

  "Nico." Andy's voice came out as a squeak, and Jenny realized he was actually afraid of the younger man. Then the name clicked. Nico Furello. Anthony Furello's son.

  A killer, with everything to lose.

  As if he'd read her mind, Nico pulled a gun, and before she could even open her mouth to scream, he aimed and fired. The report echoed in her ears and she waited to feel something, quietly certain that this time she couldn't possibly escape death.

  But there was no pain, only the weight of Andy's body across her lap. Whether Nico had planned to kill him or whether Andy had thrown himself between her and the bullet, she couldn't say. But the facts remained: She was alive. Andy was dead. And Nico Furello had the smile of a feral cat.

  ****

  Connor moved silently from one crate to the next, his eyes locked on the center of the room and Jen
. He was still too far away to hear what was being said, but he’d seen Nico step from the shadows and kill Andy. And it was clear that Jen was next.

  She was sitting on a metal folding chair, her hands and feet secured with rope. From her attempts to kick and swing at Nico, Connor was fairly certain that although she couldn't stand, she also wasn't tied to the chair. An advantage he'd have to use.

  The warehouse, too, was a blessing of sorts. It offered cover. But it also impeded progress, and would make escape difficult, the only open door being about fifty yards behind him.

  Crates and boxes were stacked in rows perpendicular to Nico and Jenny, which meant that Connor had to thread his way through the pallets. And to make matters worse, Jen was between him and Nico, which meant that, even when he was close enough, he wouldn't be able to get off a shot.

  He pushed through a gap between crates, splinters driving their way into his left arm. Free on the other side, he maneuvered again so that he had Jen in sight. Her back was still to him, but he could see from the set of her shoulders that she was angry. And he bit back a smile. Best not to get on Jen's bad side, even if she was tied up.

  Nico was struggling to remove Andy's body, but every time he got close, Jen kicked, connecting with a shin or ankle. Nico's curses carried through the warehouse, and Connor frowned. Noise was an enemy in any situation. But particularly when dead bodies were part of the picture.

  He inched closer, assessing Nico, trying to figure out what was wrong. The man was pacing now, waving his hands in the air to underscore his words. The gun pointed alternately at Jenny and the ceiling.

  She shook her head, and said something about working alone. Nico seemed to focus momentarily, tracing the line of Jen's jaw with the gun. Connor fought a surge of anger, knowing that if he moved too quickly, Nico would shoot. The prick might not live to tell the tale, but Jen would be dead. And at the moment, keeping her alive was the only thing that mattered.

  "I know someone helped you," Nico repeated. "Just tell me who it was and I'll send you on your way."