The scattered linen jogged his memory. The maid he’d seen in the hall on his way down to the front desk. Damn it! Of course Donavon would have let the housekeeper in. Son-of-a-bitch!
Fired with a dangerous cocktail of rage and fear, he ran to her closet. The long coat was gone. Near the bed, he saw her gloves and scarf on the floor. She was out there with little protection.
Murder gripped his heart when he found the absolute challenge left by her kidnappers. Her badge and department issue weapon were placed on the pillows with another hypodermic needle.
He had one thought. The head of Conteguez.
Gun whirled around, weapon in hand when a sound behind him pierced his tumultuous thoughts.
“Grab the wall!”
The startled maintenance man fell against the wall, hands lifted toward the ceiling. His voice shook while trying to convince Gun he was okay. “Just cleaning up, sir. I’ll leave if you want.”
Gun held his emotions on a tight leash, eyeing the skinny man in front of him. The guy was too scared to be part of any trouble.
“I need to know, did you see the woman booked in this suite leave with someone. Right now, man!”
“No sir. This is my first run through here today.”
Gun picked up Donavon’s shield and weapon and spoke through numb lips. “If she shows up, tell her to stay here. I’ll be back.”
He didn’t hear the man’s reply already on his way out the side exit, working her weapon and shield into his coat pocket.
Gun stared at Donavon’s left shoe that she’d lost near the door. Aw, Christ, it’s so damn cold. Murderous intent took over as he tried to form a plan to recover her.
Okay, time to exact justice. The pimp grabbed the wrong woman this time.
Gun choked back the knot of guilt in his throat. He had to move fast, or he could take her out of the country. I’ll lose her forever.
Where do we start?
I’m not fucking sure where to look! The tenement section, maybe. Conteguez has a place on West Fifty-seventh or near there. He grimaced. Start at the sleaziest part of town.
He grabbed his leather jacket and nodded at the maintenance man. “Remember what I said. It’s vital you do.”
Gun put the jacket on as he ran down the hall and pushed the rear exit door open. The snow had been trampled and several sets of shoes had left prints. Someone had fallen. One bare foot had hobbled along until, apparently, Donavon had fallen again. He forced his eyes away and ran to the underground garage to get his car.
Gun checked his weapon, shoving the cold steel into his shoulder holster.
The prick that runs the dive had to know something about Conteguez. I’ll beat it out of him. He’ll talk if he doesn’t want to die. Makes no difference to me.
Chapter 46
Ali wondered what she was doing back in training camp. Yes, that’s it. She was being put through the hard eight drill again. Sure, her knees hitting concrete hurt, but it eased up during the dizzying sensation of free falling.
Yeah, she was falling again. Down — thump onto something hard and cold. Then oppressive quiet and pitch dark.
Think, Ali. Think! You’re in trouble. Get up and fight!
What was that? Clang...clang. Someone running and shouting. Too far away to hear what they shouted.
Dear God, the silence again.
How long had she been huddled on the icy rock? No, you can’t sleep again. Stay awake.
No, I can’t. Don’t want to. I’m cold and afraid.
“Who’s there?” Her voice was alien to her, distant and unfamiliar. “Someone – who are you?”
A grating sound and the slosh of water to her left made Ali try to stand. Pain forced her flat on her face, flat on the freezing floor. “Son-of-a-bitch.”
Had she spoken? Yes. Keep your wits, woman.
The clink of metal striking metal sounded nice to her ears. Soothing. Someone touched her. “Who’s there?”
Deep silence, just rough hands putting something cold around her ankle. A rope! No! She was being dragged across the rocky surface, and her head bounced with every step her tormenter took.
Someone was in that place with her.
“Where are you? Can I see you?”
Her words trailed off in a bleak sounding sigh. Sleep. Yes. She wanted to into sleep. The sound of retreating footsteps, light and quick moved away. Then the sound of a door being slammed.
No. She wouldn’t freeze. She was wearing her heavy coat.
Running her hands over the stone flooring, she touched something like cloth. Instinctively, Ali grabbed it, pulling whatever it was closer.
Warm! Only a scrap of dirty cloth, but not frigid like the floor. Shivering violently, Ali huddled against the wall, clutching her covering.
What must have been hours passed. She managed to pull her feet up under her, warming them under the long coat and mangy cloth. Vertigo sent her into a tailspin.
No reassuring voice came, just long spans of soundless gray fog, broken only by a glaring light in her half closed eyes. The harsh brilliance stabbed deep. Ali covered her face, then reached out to the light.
“Who’s there?”
She knew fear, but a stronger desire to live. Maybe she was drowning. “God. Help me see!”
She turned her head to locate the source of a shuffling sound.
“There is no God for you, puta.”
The hoarse male voice cut through the gloom to sharpen her memory. So much like the beast from the jungle.
The owner of that ugly voice kicked her in the side. Pain radiated from her ribs to her shoulder and sent her sprawling on the floor.
She didn’t scream. That would hurt too much. “Who’s there? Let me see…your face.” For her curiosity, a savage kick to her lower back left her gasping for air and semi-conscious. An instinctive desire to live screamed at her to cover her head, and she drew herself into the fetal position.
It went on, the evil person delivering a volley of blows to her head and back, grunting as he labored. A tiny flicker of resistance flared in her brain. Who is this fool beating you? Fight back, damn it! Fight.
She crawled to her knees, blindly clenching her fists. A blow to her neck smashed her defiance. The familiar cold of the floor was no comfort as she fell back.
Apparently through slapping her around for now, he left.
The crushing weight of the desperation of her situation silenced her. She had to be careful while the punisher was there.
Pulling her coat close about her, she numbly felt a weight pulling the hem of her coat down. Sliding her hand into the pocket, it went on down the satin to touch cold steel. Her drug-induced thoughts drew the image of a warm, smiling man close.
The clang of a door slamming eased her worries, allowing her to gather her thoughts into sanity. The torturer was gone, and she gave into the floating darkness.
* * * *
Gun realized with no concern that his heart hadn’t resumed beating normally yet, and probably wouldn’t, not until he found Donavon.
My God, nightmares have chased you all your life, but this will bury you.
He steered the sedan with a death grip on the wheel. He wanted to roar at traffic slowing him down.
The shabby bar where they’d had the firefight was still in the same place, just as if nothing had changed.
Nothing was the same, and he wouldn’t hesitate to kill anyone who tried to stand in the way of taking back his life.
Donavon.
He parked the car at the curb, a few feet from the bar’s front door. Jerking free of the seat belt, Gun jumped from the car and stormed through the front entrance.
Gun’s gaze raked the room with angry suspicion, picking out the bartender. “Hey, you!” He crooked his finger at the startled man. “Get over here.”
The ashen color of the man’s face expressed terror. “I don’t know anything, mister.”
“You know plenty, cocksucker.” Gun vaulted over the bar, chasing after the fleeing man.
“Where’s Conteguez?” He caught the man’s collar and twisted it tight, paying no attention to the gurgling sound. He twisted harder until the choking man spoke up.
“I don’t know what you’re…”
He didn’t finish his sentence. Blood spurted from his nose, covering the wall his face was now pushed against.
Gun hit him in the kidney, jerking him away from the wall. “Conteguez?” He barely controlled his fury.
A fit of coughing by the bartender was followed by a plea for mercy. “Don’t kill me.”
Infuriated with the delay, Gun twisted the terrified man’s collar, hissing into his ear. “You’re good as dead if you don’t spill your guts. Now!”
The accelerated gagging didn’t move him. He tightened his hold.
Taking his hand from the bartender’s throat, Gun thought over his words. “You have ten seconds to talk, or I’m blowing your cock off.” He aimed his pistol at the wet spot in the front of the guy’s pants. “Okay, dead man. What’s it to be?”
“Big apartment.” The sweating man spoke in hushed tones caused by fear of his possible demise. “He stays there sometimes. Please don’t kill me!” He lifted his hands in supplication. “I don’t know what you want.” Gun shoved his face to the wall, and he loosened his tongue. “He comes here for girls, the younger and dirtier the better. That’s all I know. I even take them to him if he says to. Please.”
“An address, son-of-a-bitch!”
“Corner of West Fifty-ninth…white rock front…”
“Are you yanking my chain?”
“No, sir, I swear! The truth.”
He left and was halfway to the address on Fifty-Ninth before realizing where he was. He smoked another cigarette. Donavon had stopped smoking. Now, why the hell had he thought of that?
He saw the building. White rock like the son-of-a-bitch said.
Leaning forward for a better look, Ram decided to go the rest of the way on foot, in case he had friends to warn him.
Gun glanced around, adjusting the weapon under his jacket. Ali’s pistol added extra weight, reminding him how vulnerable she was right now.
He opened his door.
If he’s there, he’d would get him to talk no matter what it took.
He had the perfect lie ready to use to get in the place. Get the doorman to call him. Say his friends have a Cadillac full of hot pussy waiting down stairs for him.
Worked every time.
He tromped through the knee-deep snow and walked calmly to the lobby door.
He hoped the doorman wasn’t stupid or brave.
He shouldered their way past the startled doorman.
Gun could feel time ticking in his blood, rushing ahead and taking Donavon further away with every pump of his heart. He wanted answers now.
The doorman’s eyes rounded with shock when Gun opened his jacket.
“I’m a good friend of Mr. Conteguez. I got a birthday present for him.” Leaning closer to the frightened man, Gun gave him the semblance of a smile. “You going to call him down here or what?”
The doorman swallowed convulsively. “Who shall I say is calling?”
“His fucking father! Call him.”
“What are you bringing, sir?”
“Cooch! You know what that is don’t you?” Impatience hit Gun, and he opened his coat again.
The frightened doorman couldn’t look at anything else but the pistol strapped under his arm. “Oh, yes, sir. Indeed.”
Flicking his fingers at the phone, Gun growled. “Tell him the girls are starting without him.” He grabbed the sleeve of the doorman’s fancy coat. “Snap to, boy.”
Dialing the number on the desk phone, the man perspired heavily under the collar of his uniform, staring at Gun, who leaned on the desk, wearing a cold smile. The man began to tremble. “He doesn’t se — seem to be in.”
Gun put his hands on the frightened man’s tie and began to tighten the knot. “You won’t mind if I go see for myself, will you?”
“Oh, my ... no.” The doorman wiped his forehead.
“Which apartment does the rat hide in?”
Pointing, the doorman rasped, “Three...twelve.”
Glancing up the winding flight of stairs, Gun took them three at a time. Reaching the third floor, he ran to Three-twelve’s door, kicked it off its hinges after several angry rushes, and the heavy door crashed to the floor.
He stormed inside, commando-style, crouching, covering all sections of the empty room.
“Damn it!” Gun swore savagely after realizing their quarry had left a short time before they arrived. A cigarette still smoldered in a large crystal ashtray.
He saw the clutter on the coffee table. He’d broken up a party in the making, half a dozen lines of coke and lots of needles.
Gun grimaced in escalating anger, rubbing his forehead. How the hell did he keep missing that bastard? He had to light sometime.
Ready to bolt the scene, he abruptly stopped, moving to the balcony door.
Hair bristling at the back of his head, he opened the entry door. Desperation gave him quick reflexes, and he was out the door in half a heartbeat.
“Hold it, dead man!”
The person hiding behind a tall potted fir tree tried to run, but was yanked back by the collar. Gun threw his captive to the floor, jamming his forty-five against the skinny neck of the smaller person. “Where’s Conteguez?”
A loud scream was definitely feminine. Gun tried to check his urge to kill her.
He no longer differentiated between male and female. They were all guilty of hurting Donavon. His teeth were clenched as he thought over his choices.
Man-woman. He didn’t care. She had to talk. ‘You’d better tell me something quick.” He tapped the barrel of his weapon to the girl’s skull. “¿Dónde está ella? ¿La mujer Conteguez tomó?”
She was wide-eyed with terror and shielded her face with her trembling hands. “Don’t say, you English.” As if to avoid being struck, she ducked her head and whimpered.
Gun never slapped women around, but he was tempted right then. “Conteguez? Is he coming back?”
She glanced back at him for pity, but got a dark glare in return. “The señor is at other place.”
Holstering his forty-five, Gun groaned with suppressed rage. “Where?”
“Don’t know. He don’t say.”
“Yeah, and you didn’t help him get the woman! Right?” He pushed her ahead to the balcony door. “You’re going over the railing.” He gestured impatiently. “Ready to fly?”
Her screams ripped through the flurry of wind and snow whipping over the terrace. “No! I’ll tell. Don’t throw me. Please!”
Gun gripped her thin arm “No more delays. Talk!”
The woman recited what she knew like machine-gun fire. “An old building on the docks.” She licked her lips and rolled her eyes. “A place…Burton Cigarette…no…no, the tobacco building.”
“What river?” He fought for breath and temperance. “I’m tired of waiting.”
“No, no! I’m being true. I remember — East River, he said. Where some boats come in. Please!”
Catching her face in his hand, Gun shook his head. “Damn good thing you talked.” He hissed at her. “I was curious to see if you could fly.”
Chapter 47
“You killed my brother.”
The statement was delivered void of inflection or emotion.
Ali prepared for a new assault of fists and feet. Her throat was parched, and she dared ask for relief. “Water. ”
A shadowy figure moved in the distance. No, it was near and the features of a human were clearer now. It gestured in her direction and spoke again.
“Not that I was too disturbed over his death. Perfectly understandable owing to his loose security.” There was a coarse laugh. “You saved me the trouble of getting it done.”
The human touched her hair. Ali cringed and squeezed her eyes shut. “I don’t know your brother. I didn’t see him.” The person laughed
loudly at her rambling.
“I wasn’t chastising you. In fact, you handed me a new and better position in life and the power I deserve.”
She clutched her raunchy blanket to her chest. Should she ask the person’s name? “Are we friends?”
His laugh grated and scraped over her nerves. “I considered killing you quickly, but I want to see you suffer. A lot.”
Ali tried to focus her eyes, fighting to control the trembling from constant chill. “I’m cold.”
The heat she longed for came from his fist in her face. Stunned and reeling with pain, she still struck out with her nails, scraping his hand. Another slap was her reward from her attacker.
“You get nothing. I want you alive just long enough to get that cop of yours in my sights.” The figure cackled. “You’ll get your heat. Hot lead.”
Threats of being killed didn’t penetrate Ali’s brain any longer. He’d mentioned her cop friend. A wisp of hope drifted through her, shoring up her will to live.
She cried out for the first time, his foot lashing out delivered a brutal kick to her lower back.
“I’m Conteguez.” He kicked her once more. “You’re going to die, you see. Killing you will prove to my enemies no one escapes my reach. I am powerful and have no fear of any country’s laws.”
Memories of a flower-scented rainforest and snakes writhed in her mind. She remembered why she’d been in that forest. To stop a rabid animal. “You’re not out of here yet.”
A snort of disgust preceded the man’s next comment. “You’re not worth much to your cop. Twenty-four hours have come and gone, and he still hasn’t come for you.” He slapped her, once and then twice. “If he’s smart, he won’t look too hard.”
Another voice came from the dark corner to join his. “She won’t live long if you keep her down here.”
“The sooner the better.”
“What will become of her?”
“She is to be hung from the Brooklyn Bridge.” His foot prodded Ali’s hip. “Give her another shot.”
“No. Wait until later.”
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