Plain Jane and Mr. Wrong (Plain Jane Series Book 4)

by Tmonique Stephens

  He nearly cost her and Allie their lives. He could’ve lost them and there was no one to blame except himself.

  For a man who was intimate with death, he wouldn’t have survived the heartbreak. That’s why he excised them from his life in the first place. Sending them to the beach house was him being selfless. And look what almost happened. He almost lost the two people he loved. Two innocent people in danger because they orbited him, and it was too late to change. The die had been cast. They were in danger and he couldn’t send them away to somewhere safe because nowhere was safe, not in a world with Alezandar Karpovilov still breathing and Colin learning, waiting for his opportunity to strike.

  “What’s the favor?” And how can I use it to my advantage?

  She pulled her phone out of her back pocket. “Gerard was kind enough to get me a new cell.”

  That’s right. Hers had been lost in the escape.

  “I spoke to my family this morning and they’re fine, but I remembered something that needs immediate attention.”

  “Oh?” He didn’t like the hostility in her voice or demeanor. At least it wasn’t directed at him. That was a plus.

  She tapped on the screen and placed it on his desk. “This douche has been hitting on my little sister Jesenia. Got her to send him topless pictures.”

  “Oh, really.” Harden picked up the phone. The guy looked to be in his late twenties, but he could be older, or younger, though not by much. Dark, shaggy hair, round glasses, soft-bodied, a geek, Harden thought. “How old is your sister?”

  “Fifteen.” She gritted between clenched teeth.

  The man was much too old for any teenager. Was he a predator? A pedophile?

  “I’m not saying I want him dead… I just want him to never contact Jesenia again.”

  He met her gaze and nodded once. Jentry didn’t want him dead. Fine, the man would wish he were dead when Harden was done with him. “I’ll take care of it right away.” He sent the image to his phone.

  “Thank you.” She paused as if there was more to say, and he waited, eager to remain in her presence but wise enough not to push. In the end, it wasn’t to be. She smoothed her hand down her hip, retrieved her phone, and left without another word.

  He should be pleased that she came to him for help, and he was, but he wanted her, all of her, and not just for a temporary arrangement. He wanted Jentry, permanently, forever.

  But damn, if he hadn’t royally fucked up. He could only hope finding this creep put him back in her good graces. With a quick text, he attached the picture and sent it to the techie. The kid would make short work and get an address.

  A knock on his office door jerked his head up to find Bruno waiting. Bruno didn’t do contrite, but that sheepish look on his mug summed it up.

  “Well, you’re not bloody, so she didn’t come to gut you.” Bruno took the chair facing Harden.

  “No. She didn’t come to bleed me.” She’d done that already storming away from him. “She came for a favor.”

  That got Bruno’s attention. “Oh yeah?”

  Harden sent him the screenshot. “This POS has been hitting on her youngest sister. We’re going to show him the error of his ways.”

  Bruno studied the picture. “Landfill or the Hudson?”

  Jentry wanted him alive. Shits like this man you didn’t leave alive to lure another young girl who didn’t have a big sister looking out for her. “Depends on which one is closest when we track the bastard down.”

  ∞∞∞

  To draw out Colin and the rest of the men gunning for him, he needed to be seen. Giving his enemies hope of his vulnerability was key to shinning a light in the dark corners and putting a bullet between their eyes. The quicker that happened, the quicker he could get on with his life.

  Mid-afternoon, hidden in the basement of a warehouse storing frozen meat in the Meatpacking District, the illegal casino had a good crowd. Most of the tables were full. More money being lost than won. He’d planned on spending an hour, maybe even play a round of poker, then press the flesh as if he were running for office.

  “Mr. Gage.”

  The voice whipped him around. He quelled his surprise at seeing Matos outside of his territory and inside one of Harden’s properties. There was no prohibition on his solicitation. They were allies. Good ones.

  “Mr. Matos.” Greetings and handshakes were done in full view of their bodyguards as they moved to a quiet corner of the room.

  “All is not peaceful in our kingdom.” Matos opened the conversation.

  No use denying it, though even in a secluded corner, this wasn’t the place for this discussion. Harden tipped his head, acknowledging the truth of Matos’s words.

  Matos’s smile ghosted over his broad face, pleased Harden didn’t seek to deflect. “I, and the men I represent, are content with our business arrangement and see no reason to alter it. We have no faith in O’Rourke. I speak for myself and most of the syndicate members.”

  Which begged the question, who had a change of loyalty, and did they need to be culled? Matos knew which ones to be wary of, but he wasn’t sharing, though he came to warn him because, in the end, the majority didn’t want a leadership change. Good to know since, too preoccupied with the Russian and his private life, he hadn’t realized the topic was on the table. Matos coming to him saved a lot of lives a bloody coup would’ve cause, thus making it easier for the Russian to take over or Matos to step in. Why had Matos done it? The bottom line, the only line that counted: Harden provided security and made them more money than they ever made on their own. And the formula to his success, only he and Bruno knew all the details.

  It was time to call a meeting of the syndicate, have a face-to-face and see who needed to be permanently retired.

  His phone vibrated. It was the kid, his personal techie. He’d sent him the info Jentry had provided. Harden thanked Matos and headed for the exit.

  “You got an address for me?”

  “No, and yes, sir. Meet me at your penthouse in thirty and I’ll explain.”

  It had to be good if the kid commanded him to meet him. Damn good.

  The kid was seated in the living room when Harden arrived, his laptop open and perched on his legs as his fingers flew over the keyboard while chewing on a Slim Jim lodged in the corner of his mouth. That seemed to be all the kid ate judging by him clocking in at barely a buck ten.

  “Whadda you have?” Bruno beat Harden to the punch.

  The kid glanced up. “I got the goods. The info you sent me. Adam666,” he said in rapid fire. The kid had one speed, and everyone had to catch up or get left behind. “He’s a catfish.”

  Harden shrugged off his coat and made himself comfortable in front of his resident techie. He knew what a catfish was, and wasn’t surprised. “Tell me you have more than that.” Because he wasn’t impressed.

  “Oh, I got more.” He flipped the laptop around to show Harden. “The username came into existence about a month ago. He has no friends, no acquaintances, and the picture is fake. I Googled it and it’s a stock image. Queen Jenny has no savvy to think this guy is real. She’s a gullible idiot and deserves to be taken to the cleaners.”

  Harden bristled. “She’s fifteen.”

  The kid’s prominent Adam’s apple bobbed. “Yeah. Right. Sorry. Um, I got more.” He cleared his throat. “An ex of mine used to work with the app. I swiped his backdoor access. It allows me to be big brother and see their entire conversation without either knowing.” The kid sat back grinning.

  “Well, did you?” All this for a bullshit buildup and the kid hadn’t gotten to the point.

  “Oh, no. I was waiting for you to arrive to—”

  Harden rose to his feet.

  He swallowed again. “Doing it now.” His fingers tapped away, creating music as one minute blended into the next. “Um…”

  His hesitation had Harden stalking the kid until he stood directly in front of him. “What’s the issue?”

  “The issue is they’re online right no
w talking to each other. She’s telling him she’s in Lower Manhattan right now, and they’re setting up a meet and greet.”

  Julius had relocated the family to a townhouse in the Village. “Where and when?” Harden needed to bring Jentry into the conversation to address her sister while he handled the pedophile. He didn’t feel comfortable disciplining the teenager. He thought about Allie in the same position and nearly went nuclear. He had a “not my child” moment and had to chuckle at himself. Not my child indeed. Not by blood, but by heart. And if some asshole tried this with her, his body parts would litter New York from Niagara Falls to the Statue of Liberty.

  “They’re meeting at Battery Park in three hours. On the promenade by City Pier.”

  That was downstairs, across the street, right outside Harden’s front door!

  Bruno jumped up. “That’s Pier House. It’s under renovation. The park’s open but that restaurant is closed, and it’ll be dark soon.”

  “Cold and dark. The perfect place to snatch a young girl.” Harden looked at Bruno. This wasn’t a coincidence. “I guarantee he’s already staged the place. Ingress and egress, plus an escape plan.”

  “Um. Mr. Harden.” The Slim Jim fell out of his mouth, bounced off his laptop, and landed on the carpet. “You need to see this.” The concern on the kid’s face didn’t bode well. “I hacked into Adam666’s camera and…”

  Harden and Bruno circled the sofa to peer at the laptop over the kid’s shoulder. They had a narrow view of a room. They couldn’t see much, but damn if it weren’t enough. On a table against the back wall, mounted on a pedestal, was a Barrett M82 sniper rifle, along with an array of weapons that, frankly, Harden would’ve been envious of if the situation had been different.

  Into the view of the camera strolled, presumably, Adam666. Harden’s blood ran cold, then boiled. He knew that face. He’d seen it once two years ago when he ran into Emmet and his associate in Vegas.

  Adam666 was a hitman. Jesenia wasn’t his target. She was the bait.

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  The plan came together quickly and Jentry was brought up to speed. Not a conversation Harden looked forward to, but she listened to every word, then exploded. Hearing about her sister’s rendezvous plans, had her livid. “We really have bad taste in men,” she hissed, and Harden had the distinct impression her statement applied to herself as well as her sister. Applied to him. With the help of his techie’s friend, who waited in the lobby, they planned to pull a switch. Jentry looked her over and agreed the friend was similar in height to Jesenia to pull it off.

  “Why should I do this?” Ora argued. “I don’t know any of you to put my life on the line.”

  Ora wasn’t wrong and Harden couldn’t blame her for protecting her own interests. The twentysomething-year-old wasn’t stupid. “I’ll pay you ten grand for your time and I promise nothing will happen to you.”

  Shrewdly, her eyes narrowed. “Make it twenty grand and you have a deal.” She stuck out her hand.

  “You drive a hard bargain.” Harden shook it. No need to tell her she’d let him off cheap. He would have paid almost any amount for her cooperation.

  A video conference call with Jentry’s parents and Jesenia put the teen in the spotlight. “What about the sister code, Jentry!” her sister cried.

  “There is no sister code when you’re about to be kidnapped and tortured by a hitman!” Jentry screamed into the camera.

  After that smackdown, Jesenia got online with her boyfriend and described her outfit: a pink hoodie, black jeans, and pink Sketchers. Ora’s clothing. At Jentry’s direction, and prodded by her mother, Jesenia asked Adam666 what he’d be wearing. Jeans and a blue jacket.

  Harden didn’t buy it, but it didn’t matter. They knew what he looked like. This would be easy. If they could get him to change the location. The chance of that was unlikely without tipping him off.

  They’d have to make this work. Yet, even if this did, another hitman waited for his chance. Alezandar sent two, and unless they were a team working the mission together, he’d have another one to kill before he or someone he loved ended up dead.

  ∞∞∞

  A microphone was clipped to Ora’s bra and a GPS tracker placed beneath the wig bought to alter her appearance closer to Jesenia’s. A shade lighter, a tad taller, a bit slimmer, all were fixed with a bit of makeup, slumped shoulders, and a bulky jacket. They’d never be twins, but in the dusk of the later afternoon, Ora would pass inspection long enough for them to save her and kill the hitman.

  Nothing else would be acceptable.

  Time to go, he gathered his team: The kid, Ora, Bruno, Quincy, and four more men. He kept Pavel and Leonid out of it. If a second attack came while dealing with this threat, they’d step into the breach. And if the worst happened, they would be Bruno’s right hand.

  Everyone strapped up and headed out. Harden changed out of his suit and tie, choosing jeans, Timberlands, a black hoodie, and an oversized leather bomber. He topped it all with a Yankees cap. Just a regular New Yorker, out for a December stroll, armed with two 9mms tucked into his shoulder holster along with extra clips.

  Jentry stopped him from leaving with a gentle touch to his hand. Surprised, he spun, then froze. Her gaze, brown eyes glowing with concern, roamed his face. Tangible, her gaze stroked across his brow, cheeks, mouth before returning to meet his eyes.

  “Thank you for this.”

  He wanted more than her gratitude but he’d take what he could get. “You’re welcome, but…” He owed her the truth. “One less hitman out there serves my purpose.”

  Her lips quirked. “I know.”

  And she didn’t seem to care. Should he be elated her moral compass had skewed in his direction or appalled he’d further corrupted her?

  “Be careful. All of you, please be careful.” Her voice was intense though she whispered.

  He squeezed her hand and smiled. “We’re coming back. All of us.” It was a hollow promise, but he gave it willingly.

  “Good, ’cause I’ll be waiting.”

  If that wasn’t incentive to return in one piece, nothing was. He didn’t kiss her because once started, he wouldn’t stop. Instead, he pulled her into his arms for a hard embrace and left her standing in the middle of his living room, hoping it wouldn’t be the last time he touched the one thing he wanted.

  At the park, his men fanned out and blended into the scenery. It wasn’t hard. A warm December evening drew people out of their caves in droves to enjoy an art fair. Approximately thirty—give or take—artists had set up their wares to sell. The city had blocked the main thoroughfares into the park for the fair, and business was brisk with Christmas around the corner.

  For so long, it had been just another holiday. Now he had Jentry and Allie. This year he’d see Christmas through their eyes. If… No. No if.

  Seated in a car borrowed from one of his men because the last thing he needed was for one of his rides to give away his presence, Harden studied the faces in the park behind tinted windows.

  Was he here already? Chances were, yes. Somewhere he lurked, waiting to use a child as a pawn in a deadly game. There were lines Harden wouldn’t cross, and using kids, that line was as wide as an eight-lane highway.

  “There she is.” Bruno pointed to a yellow cab as it rolled to a stop three cars ahead of where they’d parked.

  Ora climbed out of the cab, her head down, her shoulders hunched. She was an indiscriminate female shuffling along with the flow. Harden wanted to leap out and follow her closely, protect her, but he knew he couldn’t. He needed her to do exactly what they planned, what he was paying her to do, draw the bastard out.

  First step in the plan: she stopped inside the park and pulled out her phone. The text she was to send was simple.

  Having second thoughts. Not sure if I should be here.

  Her phone went back into her pocket and she shuffled further into the small slice of nature at the tip of Manhattan, her head bobbing as if she listened to music. Harden an
d Bruno waited until she was out of sight—but not alone—to exit their car. His people were here, quietly guarding Ora while searching for the hitman. Yeah, it was a monetary arrangement, and he couldn’t waste this opportunity, but the last thing he wanted was her hurt.

  She was in sight again, five kiosks ahead of them. She’d slowed, probably stalling for time, browsing a kiosk of ethnic jewelry. Harden and Bruno did the same at a kiosk with oil paintings. From the corner of Harden’s eye, he saw her flinch and retrieve her phone. “He’s here. Wants to meet at Pier House. I’m heading there,” she murmured into the microphone.

  Ora sounded cool and collected. Harden was impressed with the young woman as she made her way methodically through the park as they instructed. Pier House came into view. The landmark jutted into the water. Built on what was the docks in 1886, the building was closed for renovations. The plan was for her to halt one hundred feet away from the structure at the promenade railing and send him a message refusing to go any further. She followed instructions to the T.

  “He wants me to go to Pier House. I’m telling him, no, it’s creepy. It looks abandoned. Are you trying to trick me?”

  Chin tucked into her chest, hiding most of her face in the yellow glow of the streetlights, she spoke as she typed the words, then looked up at Pier House and shook her head for maximum effect if he were watching.

  “I texted him I’m out.”

  She pivoted and started down the promenade toward the fort, as planned. No one came from Pier House. The dark structure remained dark. That didn’t mean someone wasn’t waiting inside. But that did mean it wasn’t the hitman. He wouldn’t let his target walk away like this if he didn’t have a plan.

  Behind her a man rose from one of the benches and mirrored her footsteps. They followed closely even though he wasn’t the hitman. Too short. Too round. A spotter, Harden speculated, until Ora veered left and the man kept straight. Was he a decoy? Someone planted to get them off her trail?