Caged Killer

by Erin M. Leaf

  “What the hell…” Knox trailed off. DiLorenzo’s guys loitered on the corner, oblivious. Knox watched Mick edge over to their position, then drop down behind them. When Mick slipped something into one of the men’s pockets, Knox shook his head.

  “Damn.” Mick was setting them up for a fall. Hell, that was how the thief was methodically destroying up DiLorenzo’s entire organization, bit by bit. Plant a little misdirection here, a few grams of drugs there, and boom. The whole thing caves in on itself. DiLorenzo self-destructs. Mick’s plan, so obvious now, had a certain elegance to it, Knox had to give him that much.

  He slipped down and put his back to the low wall, thinking about the other nights he’d followed the thief. Almost five months of this shit, and he finally had an answer of sorts. Mick didn’t do most of his work in the open, so this was the first time Knox had seen him messing with DiLorenzo’s guys, though he’d had his suspicions. He fingered his scope, then tucked it away. Mick wasn’t going to get in any more trouble tonight whether Knox watched him or not. The slippery motherfucker never got caught.

  He rubbed his forehead, going over his options. The question that loomed largest in the front of his thoughts made his skull throb, and not for the first time: what the hell was he doing following Mick around like a lovesick puppy? He shook his head, pissed off and frustrated. And completely incapable of letting go.

  Jesus. One night of fucking and he turns me into a complete nutjob. He scowled. This is Mick’s fault. He put a hand on his chest. The scars the thief had cut through his tattoo made it impossible to forget any detail of that night. He couldn’t sleep, either. He’d broken all his rules and tried drugs. Booze. Nothing worked. He intended to make Mick pay for this bullshit. Somehow.

  Ten minutes later, Knox pushed into a basement bar, wet and angry. He ignored the bartender’s wave and headed directly for the high back booth, the one where guys like him sat if they were looking to buy information. Knox hadn’t wanted to come here, but he’d hit the end of the road and finding a way out required a few more cards than he currently held in his possession. If all it took was money, I could’ve grabbed Mick and his sister and been gone from this mess yesterday, but no. The idiot had to go and play with fucking Tony DiLorenzo. Like poking a rattlesnake.

  He glanced around the dingy room, wondering if he’d find any of Tony’s men here tonight, because that would just be like his fucking luck, but the bar had mostly regulars sitting around, talking shop. He knew them all, and dismissed them. There were no threats here, at least not right now. He frowned, mentally counting up his assets now that he knew he wasn’t in the middle of a trap. I’ve got more than enough to disappear. What the fuck am I doing here? He hadn’t taken a contract since Mick had grabbed him. Hadn’t needed to. Hadn’t wanted to, which is really fucking weird, a voice at the back of his head muttered, but he ignored that, too.

  “Not used to seeing you here,” Frank said, sliding into the opposite seat. A waiter followed him, carefully balancing drinks on a battered tray. “It’s been a long while, Knox.”

  “I’m retired.” Knox nodded thanks to the server who set a beer in front of him. “No reason you should see me here.”

  “Retired, huh. Yet here you sit.” Frank waved away the waiter’s offer of a bourbon, then drummed his fingers on the scarred table’s surface. “My instincts tell me something’s up, despite your so called ‘retirement’.” The older man used air quotes to emphasize his skepticism.

  Knox opened his hands, half smiling. He liked Frank. The bar’s owner didn’t beat around the bush when it was time to do business. He decided to fuck with him a bit, just to see what happened. “Maybe I’m just visiting. Maybe I just want to hang out.” He took a sip of his beer, holding back a grin.

  “Retired hit men don’t hang out in my bar.” Frank lifted an eyebrow, pinning him with a cold stare. “Also, you never told me what went down with John last spring. You asked me to get him set up all those years ago, and now he’s gone. Poof.” He snapped his fingers. “Inquiring minds want to know the details of his disappearance.”

  Hmm. Didn’t expect him to bring that up. Knox frowned at the older man as he tried to figure out what to say. Frank hadn’t changed much in the thirty years he’d known him. He still dressed immaculately—tonight he wore dark pants and a black sweater. His eyes were still sharp and deadly, as was the Sig P938 tucked under his arm. The only thing that seemed to have gone a bit soft was the man’s sense of humor.

  “John decided that he liked the taste of DiLorenzo’s candy,” Knox finally said. How else to explain the little asshole’s leap into stupidity? He took another sip of his beer, savoring the bitterness. Story of my life.

  Frank sat back, expression easing. “Ah. How unfortunate. He wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer.”

  Knox snorted. “Yeah. I left him alive when I found out. Thought it was more fitting that way.”

  “Justice. I’m impressed with your restraint.” Frank smiled. “He deserved whatever DiLorenzo did to him.”

  Knox nodded. Truth was truth.

  “So. What do you want?” Frank asked, expression going back to neutral. He was obviously done playing host.

  Fine by me. I got shit to do, Knox thought, suddenly tired of the games. “Information.” He knocked back the last of his beer and slid it to the side.

  “I don’t work for free.” Frank rubbed his thumb and finger together.

  Knox rolled his eyes and eased the roll of money he’d prepped earlier out of his jacket. “Ten upfront. Ten more if you can get me accurate intel on the state of DiLorenzo’s organization. I want schedules, drop locations, the works.” He set the packet of bills on the table. “I need the info yesterday.”

  “Intel on DiLorenzo. I should’ve seen that coming.” Frank looked at the money, then tapped the table with a fingertip. “I’ve known you a long time, Knox. I didn’t like your father, and I was happy when he got what was coming to him. That’s why I helped you out when you first showed up here, and it’s why I never told anyone that you were the one who cut your old man’s throat.”

  Knox growled at the back of his throat. That was not a moment he liked to remember, let alone talk about. Sometimes he wondered if that action was what made him into the monster he was now. No one should have to kill their own father. “Frank—”

  “Yeah, yeah. I know you don’t want that getting around, but a lot of people wanted him dead. A lot more people wanted the money your father owed them even more. You took care of all that. You honored your contracts. Kept the peace, over the years. I respect that. And now you’re going after the jackal himself.” Frank sat back, lips pursed. “So, consider this a gift.” He pushed the money back towards Knox and leaned forward. “DiLorenzo’s in deep shit.”

  “I already know that.” Knox frowned, not picking up the money. “And I don’t like owing people favors.”

  “You don’t owe me a damn thing. DiLorenzo has been bad for business for a long time. Stifling free competition.” Frank eyed him for a moment, then stood up. “Come with me.” He slid out of the booth and headed to the unmarked door set into the back wall. None of the men in the bar so much as twitched as he walked past. The bartender nodded at them, and someone put a new song on the jukebox. A waitress hurried out of the kitchen with an order of wings. “I don’t have all day, Knox,” Frank said.

  Nothing was out of the ordinary, but Knox’s instincts pricked at him. He scooped up the money and followed. Not like I have a choice here.

  Frank waited until Knox joined him. Then he unlocked the door and held it open. Knox stepped into a dark hall, and followed Frank to another door. “You’d better not be leading me into a trap.” The closed space smelled faintly of piss.

  Frank laughed. “Are you joking? No. I know better than that, and I certainly don’t have a death wish.” He opened the door and motioned to Knox to go in.

  Knox stopped just inside, not surprised to see a bank of security monitors set up along the far wall. Dim fl
uorescents just barely lit the room. Grey walls, grey floor, grey tables … utilitarian had never looked so aggressive. “Who’s your decorator, Frank? Prison chic is so last year.”

  Frank laughed. “At least the soundproofing keeps the smell of shit out. Over here.” He led the way to a long table and sat down behind a computer. “Pull up a chair.”

  Knox did as Frank asked, then waited. He hated this. The room was small and only had one exit. He pressed his fingers over the scars on his chest Mick had given him and cursed the thief under his breath. That fucker had derailed his entire life. If Mick hadn’t grabbed him, he could be napping on some fucking beach somewhere. Instead he was in a cramped little room, peering over Frank’s shoulder looking for God knew what.

  Frank gave no indication that he noticed Knox’s edginess as he scrolled through his files. When he finally clicked on one, opening the document, Knox leaned forward.

  Frank pointed. “There. See? DiLorenzo’s entire organization is just about done for good. Look at the list of botched drops. And here…” Frank opened another file. “Loss of income. Dead employees.”

  “Where did you get these? I thought you were going to have to find a hacker for me,” Knox said, eyes flicking over the information. This was exactly what he wanted to know. “These are his internal documents.” He sat back, rubbing his chin. “Dated to yesterday. Damn.”

  “You know better than to ask me about my sources.” Frank scowled.

  “Yeah, yeah. Rhetorical question,” Knox murmured, mind racing. Truth was, he didn’t give a shit where Frank got the info as long as it was accurate. “DiLorenzo’s going to go postal soon.”

  Frank snorted. “You think?” His sarcasm lay thick and heavy in the air. “I bet he’s already crying into his pillow at night. He’s done for, but the head doesn’t know the hands have been cut off, so he’s trying to go about business as usual.” He made a sound in his throat. “Denial is a nasty habit.”

  Knox looked at his old friend. “You might want to shut down for a bit, Frank.”

  “Hmm, maybe. The implosion is going to fuck up business all to hell for weeks. Maybe months.” Frank smiled grimly. “That’s why I have this. Insurance.” He waved a hand at the screen. “Now. You are going to explain to me why DiLorenzo’s business suddenly got cancer and is even now thrashing around on a hospital bed, dying badly. And way too fucking slow.” He clicked through a few more pages of information. “Look at that. It’s a mess out there, and no one knows what the fuck is going on.” He leaned back in his chair. “Except you, interestingly.” His eyes glittered from the reflected light of the monitor.

  Knox rubbed at the scars on his chest again, stalling for time. For some idea of what the fuck to say. “Why would you think I know anything about this?”

  Frank gave him an unfriendly look. “Don’t give me that shit. You just walked into my bar on a Wednesday night asking for information on Tony fucking DiLorenzo. I am not one of your fucking marks, Knox. What the hell is going on? I’m going to have to close up shop for at least two weeks once the asshole snaps in order to salvage something out of the mess, and I’m not happy about it. Nature abhors a vacuum.” He rubbed his face. “I’d at least like to know why.”

  Knox sighed. Frank had a point. Someone besides him needed to know what the fuck was happening, just in case. Dead men didn’t talk, after all. “A half a year ago, one of Tony’s idiot dealers took a joyride around the city. He fucked up some old lady. Hit and run. The woman died.” Above them, one of the dim fluorescent lights flickered. Knox fucking hated those things. Always buzzing and shorting out at the wrong time.

  Frank eyed him for a moment, then closed down the documents on his screen. “Go on.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

  Knox resisted the urge to scratch at his chest. The damned cuts Mick had given him itched at the worst times. “The old lady just happened to be the aunt of one of the best thieves in the country. She was also the guardian for the thief’s younger sister.”

  “I heard tales about a guy with light fingers who could steal the skin off your bones without you knowing about it until later when you dropped dead of blood loss.” Frank tilted his head. “I also heard about you breaking a contract. First time in your career.”

  Sweat trickled down Knox’s back. “There’s a first time for everything. Doesn’t mean shit that I tossed that contract. It was a shit job from the get-go.”

  Frank laughed derisively. “Oh, come on, Knox. I’m not some pansy virgin here. Give me the details.”

  Knox looked away, not in the least amused. “The mark always knew I was there. Always. Didn’t matter if it was midnight or two AM. Didn’t matter how far away I was. The motherfucker always caught my tail. This went on for over a month.” The humiliation of it still ticked him off, even as he had to admire Mick for it.

  “The mark made you? You? Fort Knox?” Frank didn’t sound like he believed it.

  Fuck, I hate that nickname. Knox nodded, face tight. “Every. Time.”

  Frank frowned, letting the silence drag. “Okay, what’s the catch?”

  Knox glared at Frank. “The thief was the mark.” Why the hell was Frank being so slow now?

  “Wait, what? The mark was Mick Lannon? You’ve got to be shitting me.”

  Knox shook his head. “No joke.”

  Frank grimaced. “DiLorenzo’s guys killed Mick Lannon’s aunt? Jesus Christ.” Frank stood up and began to pace. “Fucking hell. Lannon’s a thief, but only because he won’t let himself slide off the line. I’ve never met a guy who liked blood like he does. I swear he sharpens those knives of his in his sleep. Shit.”

  How many people knew Mick liked to cut people? Knox wondered, vaguely jealous. Mick’s kinks weren’t anyone’s business, except maybe his. Fuck. His cock stirred just thinking about it. The memory of Mick leaning into him, bloody knife in one hand and chains in the other, did weird and terrible things to his insides. Hoping he was keeping his thoughts off his face, he opened his hands. “Ding, ding, ding. You win a prize on the clue bus.”

  Frank stopped, looming over Knox. “Lannon is destroying Tony, piece by piece. He’s cutting the man’s business open and yanking the guts out to where the vultures can feast.” He shook his head. “Jesus. That takes balls and then some.” He grinned, all teeth. “And Lannon is winning, the cocky bastard.”

  “Yup.” Knox would be damned if he’d add any more details.

  Frank narrowed his gaze. “Question is, why do you care? You’re supposedly retired, so I assume you don’t need the income.” He pointed to his computer. “Why did you want that information?”

  Knox’s shoulders went tight. “Professional interest.”

  “Bullshit.” Frank dropped back into the chair. The metal squeaked ominously. “Why do you keep pressing on your chest? You get shot?”

  Knox dropped his hand to his thigh. Fuck.

  Frank leaned in. “I heard that Mick likes to cut people up.”

  Christ. How does he know that? Knox held Frank’s gaze, trying not to give anything away.

  Frank suddenly leaned back, grinning. “You know him. No, you’ve met him. The most elusive thief of our time.” He chuckled. “You got too close to your mark. That’s very interesting. I never thought I’d see the day when Fort Knox cracked open.”

  “Fuck you, Frank.” Knox reached out and grabbed the computer mouse. He clicked back through Frank’s files until he found the one he wanted. “Huh. DiLorenzo’s still holed up at Green Street. Fucking fool.” He clicked on another file. “Oh, ho. He’s into blackmail, too. Look at all those politicians, lined up nice and pretty.” He glanced at Frank.

  Frank was watching him, a bemused expression on his face.

  “What?”

  “You somehow stumbled into giving a shit, Knox. I can’t believe it,” Frank said softly.

  Knox glowered. “Doesn’t matter.”

  Frank frowned. “It does if you don’t want your thief to die.”

  “He’s smarter than t
hat.” Knox was sure of that, if nothing else. Mick was a survivor. “Even I couldn’t catch him.”

  “His sister, then. Didn’t you say the guy had a little sister?”

  Knox froze. Aileen. Oh shit.

  “Yeah, you’re in deep, my friend.” Frank pointed at the screen. “If DiLorenzo can’t get to Mick…” He trailed off.

  “He’ll snatch Aileen.” The memory of blonde hair and sandwiches hazed through his mind. She was such an innocent, for all her exposure to Mick’s life. Knox felt like his heart was going to fucking explode. “Fuck!”

  Frank, to his credit, didn’t mock him anymore. “You’d better go warn him.”

  “I already did. Months ago.” Knox felt like wrapping his hands around DiLorenzo’s neck and squeezing until the fat fuck turned purple. And then maybe he’d cut off his balls. “He didn’t fucking listen. Obviously.” He glared at the numbers on the monitor.

  “Since when do you care what happens to some guy’s sister?” Frank asked, seriously this time.

  “Aileen is an innocent.” Knox shook his head.

  “Ah. She doesn’t fit your code. But what about Mr. Thief?”

  Knox felt his throat clog with … something. Regret? Worry? He didn’t have a clue. “I don’t know. He’s different.” He glanced at Frank, not sure what to say. He didn’t fucking understand it himself. “Mick isn’t what you’d expect.” He licked his lips, remembering what it felt like to fuck without having to worry. To be able to just let go. Mick could take him. Mick could kill him, if he wanted. Knox shivered as a stab of need so sharp it left his heart aching shot through him. “He’s a cold fucker. He likes blood.” His cock swelled more just thinking about the man. “He isn’t afraid of me.”

  “Jesus,” Frank breathed. When Knox looked at him, Frank’s eyes darted away.

  Mick isn’t afraid of me, but you are, Frank, Knox thought, grimly pleased. Haven’t lost my touch yet, even if I suddenly give a damn about a thief and his sister.