Stealing the Golden Dream

by Sally J. Smith

  Gina sounded a bit overwhelmed. “My mom’s flight got in last night, and at six o’clock this morning your mother showed up. All three of them are in the kitchen cooking breakfast. Geez, Jordan, I think they’re getting ready to feed the troops or something. Grandma wanted to cancel her wedding, but your mother convinced her you’d find Eddie alive and well in plenty of time for him to walk down the aisle with her.”

  Coop’s informant said Danny Reilly was known to get in an hour and a half workout every morning at Blackie’s Gym on the west side of town.

  Jordan gave her Pilot up to Coop, whose job for the day was watching LaSalle’s house. It wasn’t likely Tony would be stupid enough to head back to it, but on the outside chance—

  “I’m on it, boss lady.” He saluted and turned like a toy soldier. It nearly broke Jordan’s heart. “Boss lady” was what Eddie called her.

  She rode across town with Tank.

  The gym was full at seven thirty. It was one of those hardcore places. Concrete floors. The smell of sweat and stale jock straps. The grunts and clanks of uncompromising lifters. Not a female in sight, at first glance. A closer look revealed that some of the athletes in tank tops weren’t macho dudes at all, but macho chicks.

  “Looking for Danny Reilly,” Tank said.

  The counter person, a seventy-something bald guy with pecs like dinner plates, sent them to the back, where they found the man of the hour working a speed bag like a WBA champion.

  He was not tall, but not really short. Maybe five ten, like her. Lean, fit.

  “Danny Reilly?”

  He stopped the rat-a-tat on the bag and turned. His eyes swept Jordan top to bottom.

  “What can I do for you, girl?” He spoke quickly, like he had something important to say and was in a hurry to get it out. The timbre of his voice was rich and low. He wore his dark hair longish. It was wet with perspiration and curled boyishly around his face.

  No doubt about it. Danny Reilly was good-looking with an irreverent twinkle in his brown eyes that promised a good time if she was up for it. She wasn’t. Jordan reminded herself whom she was dealing with—the packaging might be pretty, but the contents were rancid.

  She identified herself and showed him her PI license, a gesture she reserved for scumbags and known criminals. “We’re looking for Tony LaSalle. It’s been tossed around you might know where we can find him.”

  “LaSalle, you say?” His gaze shifted as he seemed to consider the name.

  He turned away from the speed bag, slipped off the gloves, and began to walk casually toward the men’s locker room.

  He stopped at the open doorway and turned back to her, shaking his head.

  She wasn’t going to make it that easy for him.

  She followed him inside and watched while he put a lock on one of the lockers, trying to make the action seem casual. To Jordan it seemed anything but casual.

  He smiled when he saw she’d followed him in. “Okay. Yeah. I heard of Tony LaSalle, maybe even met him a time or two, but I don’t know where you’d find him these days.” His voice was musical and good humored, but she wasn’t taken in by his charisma.

  “Look, Mr. Reilly—” she began.

  “My friends call me Danny Boy,” he said. “Like the song?”

  “Mr. Reilly, we need Tony LaSalle for something that has absolutely nothing to do with you.”

  He didn’t blink or look away. The smile, which might be considered sweet on any other man, never wavered. “Sorry, luv. Like I said, I hear he’s busy taking care of some old business—something he’s wanted to take care of for a long time.” Something in his eyes changed, issuing a dark challenge.

  She knew he was talking about Eddie, and she knew they were done. He wouldn’t give up LaSalle, but it had been worth a try.

  “But ….” he said.

  Her heart thumped. Maybe she’d read him wrong.

  “… everything is negotiable. If the offer’s good enough, I might be willing to see if I could locate LaSalle.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not all that good at negotiation unless I’m sure what’s being offered is worth it.”

  “A shame. I bet we could make it worthwhile for both of us.”

  Tank bristled, looking as if he wanted to apply a little muscle to the conversation. She laid her hand on his arm and shook her head. “Thanks anyway, Mr. Reilly.” As she turned to go she handed him her card. “Just in case.”

  He stuck it in the pocket of his gym shorts. As she turned away, he caught hold of her hand and wrote a phone number on the inside of her wrist. “In case you change your mind—you know, about negotiating.”

  Chapter 29

  On their way back across town, a little before nine thirty Saturday morning, Jordan’s phone rang.

  “Jordan, it’s Coop. LaSalle’s here. He showed up about five minutes ago.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Pretty sure. Mean-looking dude in a silver Lexus.”

  “That would be him.” She signaled Tank, who hung a right and headed south into Arcadia. “Keep your eyes open, but don’t go in there. Don’t approach him.”

  He hung up. She wasn’t sure he got that last part. But Coop was a smart kid, and he knew LaSalle’s real name started with a capital T for trouble.

  It took less than ten minutes to get to LaSalle’s place. They passed Jordan’s car parked about a half block down the road. Coop wasn’t in it. Not a good sign.

  The garage door stood open, the garage empty. Also not a good sign.

  Tank drew his piece, and he and Jordon went inside. They found Coop unconscious by the kitchen door. The picture frame with Tony’s sister and niece lay beside him, the glass shattered. A bloody spot in his golden hair matched a splotch on the glass. Jordan knelt beside him.

  Coop was already starting to come around. He gazed up at her, eyes unfocused, looking more like a choirboy than ever.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “Hey.”

  He lifted himself onto his elbows. One look at the empty garage, and he said, “Dammit, he’s gone.”

  She offered her hand, “Yep,” and helped him to his feet. “Gone. What I want to know is what part of don’t approach him you didn’t understand.”

  He shrugged. “The door opened. He had a duffel bag like he was taking a trip. I figured he was outta here, and if I didn’t do something, we’d never get Eddie back.”

  “But you should have followed him, kid, not rode in on your white charger and tried to take him down. Some serious training is in your future.”

  If LaSalle was packed and leaving, there was a good chance Coop was right. It made her sick to her stomach, but Eddie could already be dead. No. She couldn’t go there. She had to believe Eddie was locked up somewhere, unable to get out but still alive.

  Tank came out. She looked up. He shook his head. “He’s gone. He’s not coming back here.” Their eyes met. He thought Eddie might already be dead, too. But she could see that like her, he pushed the thought away. “We’ll get him back, Miss Jordan. Don’t worry. Eddie’s a survivor. LaSalle ain’t half the man he is. He can’t beat him.”

  Eddie hurt all over. The IV was gone. His wrists were taped to the arms of the chair with duct tape. He could hardly hold his head up, but the drug was definitely wearing off, and he could feel his limbs again. If he wasn’t taped down, he was sure he’d be able to move.

  The next time one of them came at him, they’d have a harder time. No doubt about it.

  But he had no delusions. One of these times, Tony would kill him. Tony wanted the coins he stole, and the only thing keeping Eddie alive was that LaSalle believed he knew where they were. If he couldn’t figure a way out of this mess or if no one found him in time, he’d die in this place. And at the moment he was fresh out of ideas.

  One of the front overhead doors clanked then jerked up slowly. Eddie looked up, recognizing LaSalle’s silhouette against the afternoon sun, and the swagger in his gait as he crossed the big empty space.
/>   “Eddie, my man.” He laughed. “You’re in a lot of trouble. Your girlfriend didn’t have them, which must mean—”

  No. A voice screamed inside Eddie’s head. He hadn’t gotten to … “Jordan? You were with—?”

  “Jordan? Hell, no,” LaSalle said. “Should I have been? Does she know where they are? Frankie sure as hell doesn’t have ’em. She would have given them up if she did. Which means you’re on, Marino.”

  Eddie wished he could get his hands around Tony’s throat. If the piece of shit got to Frankie, he might have hurt Diego, or worse. And now even Jordan was on his radar. Look what his love for Jordan had brought her. Her very life was in danger. “You’re going to have to kill me, Tony. Because if you don’t, I’m going to kill you.” His voice was hoarse, and it hurt just to talk.

  Tony snorted. “No problem. I’m accommodating.” He reached into his pocket, took out a pair of leather driving gloves and slipped them on. He flexed his fingers, grinned, and curled his right hand into a fist.

  The watch-without-hands tattoo caught Eddie’s eye. Tony must have noticed him staring at it. “You like? Just a little keepsake of the hard time I did because you punked out.”

  Eddie kept quiet. If he mentioned his familiarity with it, he’d be painting a target on Coop’s back.

  “Every time I look at it,” Tony went on, “I think of you, Marino.”

  A blow to his gut caught Eddie unprepared the first time, but he clenched, and the second and subsequent blows weren’t as damaging.

  Nothing he could do about the sideways blows to his kidneys, nothing except try not to pass out. Tony was enjoying himself. The bastard took pleasure in each excruciating hit to his torso.

  When Tony finished he was breathing harder than Eddie. For the first time Eddie was grateful he was strapped to the chair. If not, he was pretty sure he’d have fallen out of it.

  “How was it?” Tony asked. “Up to your standards?”

  Eddie glared up at him wordlessly.

  Tony went on, “I have to say you’re tougher than your pussy friend who took my blade for you at the museum. Not too smart a guy. Walked right up to him, said, ‘Hey ya, Muggs. How’s it hanging?’ The look on his face was priceless when I stuck him. Poor bastard never even had a chance to react.”

  Eddie’s stomach roiled, and rage boiled up in him like lava.

  “Yeah. He whimpered like a baby before he finally gave it up. Too bad he wasn’t stoic and brave like you.” LaSalle’s laughter burned in Eddie’s gut like a lit fuse.

  “Or brave like you?” Eddie asked. “I heard you shot both Wasserstein and his kid in the back.”

  Tony snarled and backhanded Eddie across the face. The leather stung like a firebrand.

  “I know what you’re trying to do, Marino. You can say anything you want to me, but I told you, I’m not going to kill you until I get what I want. I gotta get those coins back. I owe a lot of money to all the wrong people, and if I can’t write ’em a check, they’re going to bury my ass.”

  He looked at Eddie long and hard. “You know, if I don’t scare you, maybe that long, tall drink of water you’re shacked up with will feel differently. Maybe you told her what you did with the coins.”

  Eddie’s heart lurched and went into double-time. “Bet you won’t be such a big man when Vercelli catches up to you,” he said.

  Something flickered in Tony’s eyes—if not fear, at least anxiety. Good. Eddie tried a laugh.

  Tony glanced at his watch. “Vercelli won’t get a shot at me. Believe it or not, he’s not the worst of my worries. If I don’t pay back the drug cartels for the goods I stole from them, I’m screwed. My time’s almost up with them, and if I can’t get to the coins, I gotta leave town.” He tapped the tattoo on his wrist. “Be thinking if you want to save your woman. Tick-tock, Eddie. Tick-tock.”

  LaSalle turned and walked out of the warehouse. The overhead door closed behind him and shut with a clank.

  Was he going after Jordan? It didn’t sound like the smart move, and Tony had never been stupid—or maybe he was. Stealing from Vercelli and the Mexican drug cartels? Not exactly Mensa material. He was worried about Jordan, but hadn’t sensed much conviction behind Tony’s threat to go after her. Still, just the thought made Eddie sick to his stomach.

  After a stop at Urgent Care, where Coop was bandaged and given a clean bill of health, Jordan drove him back to her place, where he picked up his bike and left for Eddie’s to spell Gina.

  It was around five Saturday afternoon before she had a chance to sit and scarf down a PB&J sandwich while Sadie devoured a bowl of kibble. Sadie finished and came for love, laying her head on Jordan’s knee. Big, mournful eyes stared up at her with way more understanding than Jordan would have thought possible.

  “I’m gonna get him back, girl. Don’t you worry.”

  A hot shower revitalized her, and she stepped from the steam, ready to hit it again.

  There was a voicemail from Diego. “Jordan, get down to All Saints Hospital on Dunlap ASAP. I’m here with Frankie Manheim. LaSalle broke into her place. El cobarde beat her pretty bad.”

  Jordan threw on a pair of clean jeans, a long-sleeved T-shirt, and Doc Martens and ran out the door.

  Chapter 30

  Diego met her outside the ER entrance of the hospital.

  “Is she hurt bad?” Jordan asked.

  He nodded. “Worked her over pretty good. They’re admitting her for overnight observation.”

  “What did they want?”

  Diego took her by the hand. “Come with me. She can tell you.”

  Frankie’s face was black and blue, green and purple, her eyes puffy. Cuts over her left brow and upper lip were closed with butterfly bandages. Her left arm was in a sling.

  Her eyes were closed when they walked in.

  “Is she unconscious?” Jordan whispered.

  He shook his head. “Frankie?”

  Her eyes opened.

  Jordan went to one side of the bed, Diego the other.

  “What happened, Frankie?” Jordan asked.

  Frankie’s eyes shifted to Diego.

  When he nodded at Frankie, she turned back to Jordan and began, “The alarm went off at the store. We’ve had some trouble with it lately, so when the PD called, I told them not to bother and I went down to check it out. Tony LaSalle was waiting for me. He hadn’t found what he was looking for so he made me drive back to my house with him. I wouldn’t tell him where to look. He took his fist to me. When that didn’t do the trick either, he stood on my shoulder and pulled on my arm.” She glanced at the sling supporting her arm. “Shoulder popped out. I couldn’t take it. I was out like a light for a while. When I woke up, the house looked like a tornado had blown through. God, what a mess. I called Diego. Sweet boy. He came right away and brought me here.”

  Jordan gave her a serious look. “You’re lucky to make it out alive, Frankie. I hear not everyone who comes up against Tony LaSalle does.” She waited a moment. “What was he looking for? The Dahlonega coins he gave you?”

  Frankie snorted then grimaced. “Ow.” She took a couple of deep breaths. “Not just those two I showed you, missy, the whole kit and caboodle. I had the whole collection. He left ’em with me to sell. I hid ’em. And why not? Why shouldn’t I have a piece of the pie, especially, if I’m the one who’s taking the risks?” She smiled. “I was close to unloading them, too. Sap in Texas was willing to pay fifty cents on the dollar. LaSalle wanted twenty-five. I stood to make a fortune.”

  Jordan was stuck back on “hid them.” The complete set? Frankie had the entire Golden Dream collection the whole time? Sly fox. She’d been holding out on everybody. It nearly got her killed, too.

  “Where’d you stash them?” Jordan asked.

  Frankie set her jaw and thrust out her lower lip, a portrait of defiance.

  It didn’t look like she was in the mood to share. At least not with me.

  Jordan looked up and caught Diego’s eye. She nodded her head slightly.
/>
  He nodded back then moved closer to Frankie, lifted her right hand, and held it between both of his.

  “You need to tell us, Miz Manheim, for your own safety. Even I can’t protect you now, not while you have those stolen coins in your possession.”

  She stared deep into his eyes as if she’d do just about anything for him. And it looked like she would. “The rear compartment of your Jeep, Diego honey, under the flappy thing in the very back.”

  Diego’s jaw dropped.

  Jordan’s, too.

  They looked at each other.

  “You mean I’ve been driving around with them since ….”

  Frankie nodded. “Since the first day you showed up at the store.”

  A half hour later they walked back through the ER entrance. The lights cast a yellow glow over the hospital parking lot. Jordan and Diego crossed to where he’d parked his Jeep Wrangler. Diego poked along behind Jordan, quiet, his head hanging.

  “You coming or not?” Jordan turned around. “What’s up with you?”

  He looked up at her, his expression troubled. “I let her down.”

  It took a second for her to comprehend what he was talking about. “Oh, you mean Frankie. How’d you let her down?” Then she got it. “This wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t stay with her day and night. And if I had a choice, I’d rather she be lying in that bed, not you.”

  His doubtful look said he still wasn’t convinced.

  “Look. If she hadn’t taken the coins from LaSalle to start with, she wouldn’t be in this position. She made her bed, now she has to lie ….” She paused. Oh my God. I sound just like my mother. “Well, you know what I mean.” Besides, she thought, we needed you to be out looking for Eddie.

  He swung the tailgate aside and lifted the carpet flap over the tire iron compartment. The beam of a small flashlight illuminated the dark cubicle, revealing a first aid kit, a couple of tools, and a medium-sized duffle bag. It looked like the bag Eddie carried with him sometimes. He removed the bag, set it on the trailer hitch, unzipped it, and shined the light on it.