by Cindi Madsen
A loud gunshot split the air and three or four breath-robbing seconds later, Vince stepped around the corner.
“It’s Tom,” Cassie said. “He’s sho—behind you!”
Vince spun around, arm raised, but the other guy fired first. The shot drove Vince back, into the living room where she couldn’t see, and a dark outline darted after him.
Cassie slid her hands out from under Tom and reached for her gun. Right as a booted foot came down on her hand.
She cried out, trying to inch her fingers forward and get them around the handle of her gun, and he twisted his foot. The ache of grinding bones traveled all the way up to her shoulder. Then a large forearm wrapped around her throat.
Two more shots rang out from Vince’s vicinity, loud ones that made her hope they came from his gun.
“I hoped you’d be the one to stop for the cop.” The arm around her throat squeezed tighter as whoever owned it hauled her to her feet. She struggled against him, trying to get enough leverage to try one of her defense moves, but the guy was so strong, and with her oxygen quickly fading, her limbs weren’t working like they should.
The barrel of his gun pressed against her temple and panic replaced what little air was left in her lungs.
“I’m Jackhammer—I came into the restaurant once. Wouldn’t have recognized you without the updated description, though. Let’s see how much time we have to get acquainted.”
His lips brushed her ear and disgust crept across her skin. She made herself as small as she could, trying to put more space between them. “Be a good girl and yell for Vince, so we can see if he’s the one who made it.” He increased the pressure of the barrel against her temple, pushing until tears stung her eyes. “Only make it sound like everything’s all right or I’ll pull the trigger.”
He loosened his grip around her neck, and she gulped in a quick breath, the oxygen a clash of burning and cool relief.
“Go on,” he spat, jostling her. She kept her lips clamped, refusing to lure Vince into a trap.
Jackhammer spun her around, and she immediately recognized his face—it wasn’t one you easily forgot. Riddled with scars, completely flat nose, and a large caveman-type forehead she imagined he’d slammed into people back when he was a boxer. When he came into Rossi’s, Mia had called him Jack and told Cassie he used to be New Jersey’s pride and joy fighter.
“You get one more chance.” He gripped her arm until the bones protested and then backhanded her with his gun. Pain exploded behind her nose, dark spots crept into her vision, and she would’ve fallen over if he hadn’t had hold of her.
“That wasn’t even one of my good punches.” He maneuvered her back to their original position, her body in front of his, only with his arm across her shoulders. She tasted blood, from her nose or her lip, she wasn’t sure. Everything hurt.
Tears slid down her cheeks, and she didn’t know whether to call out to Vince to tell him she loved him one last time or to tell him to run. Either one would only bring him to her, unless he was…
Her brain shut that possibility down. No going there. Just the thought sent agony rushing in, the internal ache fighting for more attention than her external injuries.
Her vision blurred, and she closed her eyes. It was worth it for a little more time.
I love you, Vince.
“I’ll make you pay for this later,” Jackhammer said, taking the gun from her temple and pointing it ahead of him.
“Vince! If you’re alive and you want your girl to stay alive, come on out.” Jackhammer swung his gun, always keeping her between him and the living room where Vince and the other man had disappeared. “I can see why you like her. She’s feistier than I expected. Pretty, too. Even covered in blood.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
Vince must’ve blacked out. The bastard shot him in the shoulder before Vince killed him, and raising the gun…that’s when he faded for a moment. Or maybe a bit longer than a moment.
He scrambled for his gun when he came to, gritting his teeth through the pain, and then Jackhammer had called out. Ice spread through Vince’s body as the words covered with blood echoed through his head.
A quick press of his thumb that shouldn’t have hurt as much as it fucking did released the clip in his Beretta. Two more bullets. If he didn’t take down Jackhammer, the former heavyweight would kill him and Cassie both. The guy grew up using his fists and he liked to use them until his opponents couldn’t swing back.
The body of the bastard who’d gotten a round off before Vince shot him sprawled on the floor, empty eyes on the ceiling. Vince grabbed the dead guy’s gun and pushed to his feet.
“I’m coming out.” Vince tucked the spare pistol into the back of his jeans and gripped his own gun. With his right shoulder on fire, that entire side was useless. He switched the gun to his left; it didn’t feel as comfortable, but he could lift his arm, which made it the winner.
Gun out, he stepped into the hallway. He swung the barrel toward Jackhammer, who was using Cassie as a shield. The ugly asshole quickly turned his gun on her, pressing it to the side of her head.
Everything inside Vince turned to rage and stone as he looked into her bloody, frightened face. His finger tightened around the trigger of his gun. I’ll fucking kill him.
He just needed to be smart. Find a way to get them both out of here alive, regardless of how shitty their odds looked right now.
Cassie’s eyes widened as she took in his appearance, the concern in them clear. He didn’t dare look, but he could feel the blood running down his arm, and the blood loss or pain—or most likely all of it—made him dizzy. It was just like her to be worried about him when Jackhammer had a gun to her head.
“You think Carlo’s going to pay you?” Vince asked. “His assets have been seized, and I’ve already given my testimony. There’s tons of evidence against Carlo, and he’s going to jail. I could pay you double. I’ll do whatever you want. Just let her go, and you and I can work out a deal.”
“Nice try, but I don’t deal with rats. And according to Carlo’s lawyer, Cassie here’s a more reliable witness.” He gripped one of her backpack straps, securing her tighter against him. His gleeful gaze locked on Vince as he licked the side of her face. “I’m here to make sure she doesn’t testify.”
Red tinged Vince’s vision, and Jackhammer’s grin widened. He got off on fear and anger. Vince wished he could hide his and not make this more fun for him, but he was beyond playing it cool now.
I just need an opening. A couple inch window to send a bullet through. With his right hand, he’d feel more confident about how little that window could be. He told himself he could do it with his left, but if he hit Cassie, he’d welcome death, because his life would truly be over.
Sparks of light danced across his vision. He blinked them back, keeping his arm raised and frowning when the bead on the barrel wobbled around. Damn bullet wound was going to get them both killed.
“I won’t testify,” Cassie said, the desperation in her voice cutting Vince to the core. “I’ll disappear. Just let us go, and no one will ever hear from us again.”
“Nice try, sweetheart,” Jackhammer said, and Cassie winced as he pressed the metal against her head, so hard that her neck tilted from the strain. It gave Vince a one second almost opening, but then Jackhammer ducked his head behind hers. “Drop your weapon, Vince. Or I’ll pull this trigger, and you’ll get to watch her die.”
After I drop it, he’ll relax his guard as he starts preparing whatever torture he’s got in mind, and I can use the gun at my back.
Vince lowered his gun, squatting toward the floor. His vision clouded, and Cassie mouthed something. He blinked, and she mouthed it again. “I’ll drop…” Her eyes showed him her intended path. “You shoot.”
“Cassie,” Vince said as the security of the gun left his fingers and the metal clunked on the hardwood floor. “I want you to hang in there and do exactly what he tells you to.” Please, please don’t get yourself killed.
Cassie stomped on the arch of Jackhammer’s foot, swung her elbow into his gut, and dropped, slipping out of the backpack the asshole was clinging on to.
Vince drew the other gun, ignoring the white-hot pain that erupted in his shoulder, and fired, two shots in succession. Shots had come from behind Jackhammer, too, maybe a second before his.
Vince kept the gun level, even as his shoulder screamed to drop it.
But when Jackhammer crumpled to the ground, Bobby was the one who stood across from Vince, Cassie’s Glock in his hand. His brother was shirtless, his swimming trunks dripping water onto the floor.
With a sigh of relief, Vince lowered his gun. Cassie rushed toward him, and he caught her with the arm that didn’t feel like hamburger.
“You okay?” he asked her, and she nodded, despite her split lip and bloodied nose. The room swayed as he glanced at Bobby. He’d hoped the staggering pain would fade now that he was giving his shoulder a break, but it seemed to be spreading, taking over his lungs. “You?”
“I couldn’t sleep, so I snuck over to the empty place a couple houses over.” Bobby pointed his thumb, as if the direction were the important detail. “They’ve got a hot tub. I thought I heard shots, so I waved down some people and told them to call the police. Then I snuck into the back door right as Jackhammer called for you. I was just waiting for the right time to grab Cassie’s gun and make my move.”
“You did…good.” Vince tried to take a step toward the back door, but stumbled into the wall, accidently taking Cassie with him. She tried to steady him, but she didn’t weigh enough.
Sirens sounded in the background, and Cassie put her hand on his face.
“Vince? Vince?”
Her face swam in and out of focus, and then it was just a smear of color.
“I love you,” she said as she lowered him to the ground. “Hold on for me, okay? You promised we’d start over together. Shot or not, I’m holding you to it.”
He tried to smile, but he didn’t know if it made it to his lips before the world went black.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Cassie paced the floor of the ER, Bobby’s and Agent Mancini’s gazes following her. She’d been wearing out the same groove in the tile since they showed up two hours ago.
“I hate hospitals,” she said. “Did I mention how much I hate them? The smell and the beeping and…” Horrible memories of watching Dad disappear little by little slammed into her, robbing her of the ability to breathe.
She fell to her knees, bringing her hands to her eyes as the tears that’d somehow held off rushed out of her at once. The shock had been so all-consuming at first, and then she’d made sure Vince was taken care of, even as the paramedics fussed over her injuries.
Somewhere along the way, she’d threatened a FBI agent. Agents McVee and Mancini were two of the first people on the scene, a couple of ambulances right behind them. One took Tom, and she and Bobby squeezed into one with Vince.
When she’d first seen Vince come out of the living room, the blood running in crimson streams down his shoulder, she’d nearly passed out. Survival instincts kept her going—not only for herself, but for him.
He’d seemed okay… until he wasn’t.
The entire ride to the hospital she’d gripped his hand, wanting him to squeeze back, just so she’d know he had some fight left. She kept thinking that as long as the doctors could fix Vince, they could fix everything else.
Once they’d arrived at the ER, they wouldn’t let her or Bobby go back with him. She’d caused a scene, shouting that someone might come in and try to kill him. Agent McVee swore to go in and protect him, and that’s when she told him she’d hunt him down herself if he didn’t keep Vince safe.
Agent Mancini had stayed with her and Bobby. Eventually the ER staff had insisted on treating her injuries before sending her back to the waiting room.
And now she was down on the cold tile floor as fear and worry wrapped suffocating tentacles around her, pulling her toward the dark place where Vince didn’t make it out all right.
Arms came around her, and she looked through tear-blurred eyes at Bobby, his face so like Vince’s. “I can’t lose him again,” she said. “I finally got him back, and he’s protected me from the beginning, and everything…I just…” A sob cut off the rest of her words, and Bobby hugged her to him and patted her back.
“He’ll be okay,” he said. Over and over again, until she’d cried every ounce of saltwater she had onto his shirt.
For another thirty minutes, Cassie tried to hold onto hope, but then word came that Tom Duffy hadn’t survived—too many internal injuries, too much blood loss from his femoral artery.
A fresh wave of tears emerged, and she crashed all over again, guilt slamming into her along with the sorrow. She’d pulled him into this case.
He volunteered for watch duty to protect her.
Everyone around her died. The people she loved most had been ripped away from her. So the next time the stark hopelessness that wanted her so badly called to her, she didn’t fight the icy arms that wrapped around her and dragged her all the way to rock bottom.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Gentle shaking jarred Cassie awake. She wasn’t on the floor anymore, but in a chair, and Bobby was saying her name.
“Is Vince…?” The rest of her words caught in her throat.
“He’s through the worst,” Bobby said, and her heart jolted into motion, taking a full, satisfying beat for the first time since the shooting started. “Surgery went well. The bullet didn’t break any of his bones, but he needed a transfusion halfway through. They had him in recovery for a while, but they just moved him into a room.”
Agent Mancini stepped in front of them. “I’ll take you to see him. From now on, you guys need to have escorts everywhere you go—even just to the bathroom—and we’ve called in a few U.S. marshals who’ll guard Vince’s room at all times. From now until the end of the trial, we’re tripling the protection.”
“That means more people will know where we are,” Cassie said. “A bigger chance of someone talking.”
“Agent McVee found the leak. He didn’t sleep all night because he was so angry about it. Trust me, the person will be punished severely. I assure you, we’ve checked everyone who’s coming on board. The marshals already lost Deputy Florez, and that makes them even more motivated. They want someone to pay as much as you do.”
Cassie wished that provided more assurance, but her firsthand experience with Carlo’s contacts and just how far his reach extended made her wary to relax her guard.
All things she’d worry more about later. She stood and winced. Her nose and lips felt twice their usual size, and her entire body ached, but none of that mattered as long as Vince was going to be okay. “Lead the way.”
As she, Bobby, and Agent Mancini walked the white halls of the hospital, he said, “We do need to check in with the court this morning. If you want to postpone your testimony until you’ve healed a bit—”
“I want to testify on schedule. Let them see my beat up face and add that to my testimony.” She turned to Bobby. “I assume I look a little rough? If it feels this bad and I don’t even have bruises, I’ll feel like such a wimp.”
“Always a dangerous question from a girl,” he said with a smile. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “But you don’t need to feel like a wimp, if that answers your question.”
Cassie smiled and then her tongue went to the split in her lip. Ouch.
Agent McVee greeted them outside of Vince’s room. Cassie wanted to believe everything would be all puppies and rainbows now, but she’d seen the bloody hole in his shoulder. No doubt he’d need a lot of recovery time, so she told herself to keep her expectations in check.
“I was about to call Mancini. Vince just woke up and told me I had five
minutes to produce you two or he’d rip out his IV and hunt you down. He’s got real charming manners, I tell you.”
“That’s what first drew me to him,” Cassie joked, and the agent smiled and pulled open the door. Instead of letting the familiar beep of monitors and antiseptic smell psych her out, she reminded herself that without hospitals and the people who worked there, she might’ve never recovered from being hit by a truck, and Vince would’ve probably died last night.
She still hoped to never have to come to one again after this.
Vince looked up as she entered the room, and she rushed over to his bedside. He wrapped his left arm around her waist and hauled her onto the bed with him.
Tears erupted again, a mix of relief and joy and regret at all the bad that’d happened last night. She pressed her face to the crook of his neck and held on for all she was worth. “I was so scared I was going to lose you.”
He squeezed her tighter to him. “I just got you back. I’m not going anywhere.”
After she got herself semi under control, she raised her head and kissed his cheek, leaving her lips resting against the stubble. He turned his face and kissed her softly. With a frown, he reached up and gently traced her nose and the cut on her mouth.
“I’m okay. It’ll look great in court; don’t you think?” She placed her hand over his heart, taking comfort in the steady thump under her palm. “What about you? How’s the pain?”
“Not too bad.” Obviously he was lying. His face was paler than usual, and he’d been shot and had major surgery. He looked over at Bobby.
They didn’t exchange words, just a series of nods that said they loved each other in their own way, even if they didn’t come out and verbally say it.
Since she did believe in saying it, she took Vince’s hand and then reached for Bobby’s. “You DaMarco boys are my family now, and I love you both. Thanks for saving me last night.”
Bobby shrugged and gave her a lopsided smile.
When she turned back to fully face Vince, he kissed her and then moved his lips next to her ear. “Thanks for not dying.”