His balls drew tight to his body and his mind blanked as he gripped her thighs, arched his back, and exploded. His world went black, then supernova. Harden died, happily died, and went to heaven.
Chapter Forty-nine
There was only one reason Nick picked the dive bar in the Bronx with its flat beer, stale peanuts, sticky floors, and the stench of the clientele’s unwashed bodies on Christmas Eve, and it wasn’t to hit on women. The connection to Colin brought him to sublet an apartment a block away and visit the establishment regularly. The renters were happy to vacate the premises after Nick handed them twenty thousand in cash, and a plane ticket to the Bahamas. An all-inclusive resort had their months’ long reservation. And their jobs? Julius Morgan was their new employer upon their return.
The owner of the bar was the brother of the former partner of Colin. The partner was dead. The brother, Grady, pretended to be impartial, but in this world, the claim was idiotic. He paid for protection like everyone, though not as much since he also culled information whenever and wherever he could.
Nick sat at the bar, his attention on the beer in his hand while his senses strained. A snippet here. A snippet there. His identity didn’t go unnoticed. Good. He wasn’t trying to hide it even though his hat was pulled low on his brow and his shoulders were hunched. Appearances were everything, and his said “Fuck off” and “Proceed with caution.”
Night after night, drowning his sorrow, sharing his bitterness at the world in general and at Harden Gage in particular. He’d made enemies. There were no friends to be had in this place. There were more than a few bar fights in the watering holes he’d visited. He got sliced on his side, a gift from a bar in Queens, and took twenty stitches. Stitched up, he returned to the same bar and others. The mission hadn’t changed. In fact, it was more dire with the death of the hitman in Battery Park three short weeks ago and the pending meeting of the syndicate. Bruno kept him informed via coded emails that were quickly deleted.
Nick took a long swallow on the flat beer and took the opportunity to study the crowd in the mirror behind the bar. Older, middle of the pack, herd mentality. None stood out, but all could be a threat. He didn’t come to this side of town unarmed, but even if he were without a weapon, he wasn’t worried, not about himself. How could he be when Bruno was shot saving Harden from a hitman, and Jane and her family were in hiding. All that while he burned bridges pretending to be a traitor.
Grady sidled over, a glass in one hand, a gray rag in the other. “You seem in a better mood tonight.”
“You can tell that from one look, huh?”
Rubbing the rag over the rim of the glass, Grady narrowed his gaze on Nick. “Been doing this for a long while. I’m good at reading people.”
That rag was once white. Nick grunted and pointed to his empty mug. “Another.”
Grady picked up his empty and refilled it at the tap. Guess he didn’t warrant a fresh glass for the flat beer. Considering the state of the rag, there were no fresh glasses in the establishment.
“What was my mood last time? I can’t remember.” He didn’t need to wait for the head to settle because there was none. Flat beer and watered-down drinks. Was the place struggling or the owner that cheap?
He waved Grady closer. “How much you pay in protection?”
Grady shook his head, disgusted. “Why? You interested in a job? No one here would hire you when you work for Harden Gage.”
“Is that so?” Nick wasn’t surprised.
“Gage and his ilk aren’t liked around here.”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah, but you know that since you’re his right-hand man.”
Not even close. That spot belonged to Bruno. “Was. I parted ways with that half-Irish bastard, not that I ever cared about that lineage bullshit.”
“Me either, but keep that to yourself.” Gaze shrewd, Grady rolled his tongue over his yellow teeth. “The word on the streets is what you said. Parting ways. Heard Gage is looking for you. No reward. That’s the only reason you ain’t being hunted. They’re trying to keep it quiet.”
Nick’s response: he drank his beer. Then decided to throw Grady some red meat. “That’s because they want to kill me themselves. I ain’t hiding because I’m not afraid.” Which was stupid if Grady considered it. If Harden Gage was truly after you, hire an army or get the fuck out of town, maybe the country.
Hell. This plan was a shit sandwich. It wasn’t going to work, and it was about time for Harden and Bruno to realize it.
Nick pulled out his wallet and settled his bill. The door opened before he slid off the stool. Four men entered, one of them Colin. The three with Colin pulled their guns the moment they laid eyes on him. The bar went quiet. The center of attention squarely on Colin and Nick.
Finally. Tension eased out of Nick’s pores. “Took you long enough to find me.” The confusion on Colin’s mug was laughable, particularly when he thought he was the one in power. Three guys with guns trained on Nick. Colin was right to assume, but still wrong when Nick had the answers Colin wanted. “No need to beat around the bush. You walked in here ready for a brawl only to find an ally.”
Colin frowned. “Ally?”
Nick waited for Colin’s thought processes to unravel all the preconceptions he’d entered the bar with, justifiable preconceived notions, and theories he was probably absolutely correct about, until Nick threw him a left curve.
“I’ve been going around town leaving breadcrumbs. You got to be a sharper tack than this if you want to kill Harden Gage.”
Colin folded his arms and rocked back on his heels, glowering at Nick in the same manner as his half brother. “You want Harden dead?” Disbelief heavy in his voice. “Prove it.”
“Harden called a meeting of the syndicate. The members are rattled by all the unrest,” Nick said and didn’t get the result he expected.
Colin scowled. “Got anything I don’t know already.”
Well, that’s interesting, and not how this conversation was supposed to go. There was only one way Colin already knew the information Bruno passed to him earlier... There was a traitor in the organization. A real one.
Wasting time pondering who the fucker could be would have to wait. “Do you know where it’s being held or when?”
Colin couldn’t hide the eager glint in his eyes. “Do you?”
Nick smiled, though his tone was clipped. “Want me to tell the entire bar or just you?” He took the lead leaving the bar. Colin followed. He stopped on the sidewalk but was grabbed and hauled to a waiting Tahoe idling at the curb. Shoved against the door, he survived a rough pat down. He’d packed light. Only one gun and a knife in his boot which—as expected—was discovered.
No prob.
They took his phone. That was a problem even though everything incriminating was deleted. Tossed into the back seat, he was squeezed between two men with two more in the third row. He braced for a pounding, ready to give as good as he got. Surprisingly, nothing came—yet.
In the passenger seat, Colin slammed his door closed and spun to face him. The gun in his hand pressed into the center of Nick’s forehead. “We’re alone now. Tell me.”
“Not afraid of ruining the upholstery?”
“Not. My. Car.”
The muzzle dug into Nick’s skin. “Catalyst. It’s at Catalyst.”
Colin’s teeth flashed brightly in the dark interior of the car. “I already knew that too, but thanks for the confirmation.”
Fuck! “Do you know when? Holiday season. Lots of private parties. Every single night. Hard to tell which one is which. Not like Harden will advertise a meeting of the syndicate and send out public invitations. You have one shot at crashing the party. One shot.” Nick took Colin’s hand and led him down a yellow brick road paved with just enough truths to be plausible. The syndicate was meeting. Where? Only Harden knew the location, which he kept secret until an hour before the gathering. But Colin didn’t know that…he hoped.
Colin’s lips peeled back on a
snarl. “Tell me or you die.”
The muzzle scraped Nick’s skull, which was better than a bullet scraping the inside. “Tomorrow. Christmas night.” Not a lie. A meeting was planned, just not the one Colin wanted.
Nick looked into Colin’s eyes and knew the moment his life was forfeit whether he believed Nick spoke the truth or not. “Before you pull the trigger, let me ask you one question.”
Colin shrugged. “I got the time. You don’t.”
True enough and funny enough, at this moment, Colin sounded just like the brother he hated. Correction: Half brother. “Do you know where the ledgers are?”
Colin frowned. “Ledgers?”
One nod. “Harden’s ledgers. Everything’s in them, including account numbers, passwords, and secrets. Lots of secrets which, to some, are more important than the money because with the secrets, comes real power. You want control of the syndicate, you need the ledgers, and I know where they are.”
“I don’t trust you.” But the gun eased up.
“Kill me now, you’ll be broke, busted and will never hold onto the leadership of the syndicate. Give me a chance to prove it and you’ll have everything you want, and so will I.”
“What is it you want, Nicolas Wright?”
“Revenge.”
“Against who?”
“Harden and Bruno. I know you want to kill Harden. But I get Bruno. I get to air the inside of his skull.”
The gun lowered. “I don’t want Harden dead. I want him to suffer, and he will when I take everything from him. His title. His money. His woman. I will leave him with less than nothing, and then I will kill him. You want Bruno, you got him. Just make sure you make it messy. Leave a statement. I certainly plan to.”
Colin seated himself in the passenger seat as the car started.
“Um, sir.” A voice came from the back seat. “Can I leave?”
Nick glanced over his shoulder at the man. Face shrouded in shadows, Nick couldn’t identify him.
“Everything ready for tomorrow?” Colin asked.
“Yes, sir. I hired a woman to serve the summons.”
Summons? Who was this guy serving a summons to? And why was it so important?
“Good. I want that kid and I want the woman. Both if possible, but at least one. Deliver the goods and you live.”
Nick didn’t believe in God. That didn’t stop him from saying a prayer that the man wasn’t Jentry’s ex. That prayer wasn’t answered when the passenger door was opened and the interior light illuminated the interior. Fuck. He had to let Harden know. But how when his only means of communicating was in Colin’s pocket and there was only one day left.
Tomorrow, on Christmas, one of them will be dead, him included if it’s the wrong brother.
“I don’t trust you.” Colin’s attention shifted to Nick. “This is all some elaborate trap and I’m not falling for it.”
Nick knew what was coming and braced. The men on either side of him took turns beating the shit out of him. Instead of fighting back, he took the beating. Oh, he gave it a half-hearted effort, an elbow here, a jab there, but it was important for Colin to think he was all bluster and no bite. He could be controlled. Colin wouldn’t kill him, not when Nick had planted seeds of doubt. Seeds that took root and planted enough questions about the ledgers. Colin was greedy and practical enough to reign in his bloodthirsty tendencies, for the moment. Until Nick wasn’t necessary. But for now, he didn’t fight back.
He didn’t plan on being unconscious. He planned on somehow getting away and warning Harden. Saving the day, getting back on the right side of Jane, working his way back into her bed and good graces. Good intentions and self-sacrifice vanished when the butt of a gun met his temple. Darkness was swift and complete, and all his good intentions and self-sacrifice died and quite possibly so would he.
Chapter Fifty
Christmas evening and it had been a day. After spending most of the holiday with his two women, Harden was locked in his office with his men, handling business that couldn’t wait. Not tonight when the Black Dragons were meeting in a few short hours. Their master plan pretending his empire was rife with strife was working a bit too damn well. Emboldened dissenters crawled out the sewers, feeling their time had come. Each and every one had to be put down hard. However, in deference to the holiday and his emotional state due to the change in his love life, no one died in the lead up to the meeting. A few fingers lost, cracked ribs, broken legs. That would change after he reasserted his authority. All the while, his thoughts returned to Jentry and Allie.
They’d spent the entire day together. First, waking up in bed with Jentry and making love until Allie woke. With a lot of help, she opened her gifts. A doll, a collection of Dr. Seuss books, and a playset with shapes and numbers. The past three weeks had been a slice of domestic bliss, their lives merging seamlessly.
“I didn’t get you anything because what do you give the man who has everything?” Was her way of apologizing.
Smug, he said, “I got my gift last night.”
She threw back her head and laughed. “The gift that keeps on giving.”
“Damn straight.”
Instead of returning to her warm, wet, loving embrace, he was in his office with Pavel, Leonid, and Bruno planning for the meeting. The wound had been serious, but he’d healed in the intervening three weeks.
“We’ve received two additional reports about Nick.” Territorial and downright ornery, Bruno’s pathological need to be in control spurred him out of his sick bed and onto his feet only a few days after being shot. Harden hadn’t complained when he needed his right hand.
“And?” Harden didn’t have the patience to play twenty-one questions. Three weeks since Battery Park and Colin was in the wind or deep underground. Either way, no one could find him.
“They’re warnings about his disgruntled nature. He’s been running his mouth, spreading lies, stirring up shit.”
“Good. It’s a matter of time before Colin reels him in. Anything more on Colin’s whereabouts?”
“Nothing since our last encounter,” Pavel said.
When they missed him in Brooklyn. It was unsaid but hanging between them. “Are we ready for the meeting with the Black Dragons?”
Bruno nodded. “Yeah. They’re arriving by car in three hours at Catalyst.” Two days before the members of the syndicate gathered in a secret location to be announced with only an hour’s notice.
The meeting with the Black Dragons was a formality. With Pavel as a go-between, they’d already reached an agreement. The Black Dragons wouldn’t have a place at the table, not yet, but, in time, that could change.
“The club is closed for the night. Private party,” Bruno continued.
“Any word on Emmet?” Leonid tossed out.
Harden had sent word to Hank Murray—Emmet’s handler and future father-in-law—about Karpovilov in Saudi Arabia, and in return, got nothing. Not even acknowledgment the information was received. He despised not being in the loop, but there wasn’t a fucking thing he could do—on either front—besides sit and wait.
He didn’t like waiting.
His phone buzzed. A text from his men in the penthouse lobby. He read and, “Motherfucker!” he hissed and stormed out of the room. Pavel and Leonid jumped up to follow, throwing questions at his back, leaving Bruno trailing behind.
He didn’t know Jentry was in the living room. Seated on the floor, she, and the nanny, watched Allie racing the length of the sofa, determined to reach the twinkling lights on the Christmas tree. It was the first time a tree had ever been erected in his home. Neither a Christian nor an atheist did he claim to be. He had a few dusty memories of presents and toys when his mother was alive. Middle-class poor, she struggled, but he’d always had a roof over his head and never went hungry. Still, he was an ungrateful little shit and didn’t appreciate her until she was long gone, and he was a grown man. Now, he had a second chance to see the holiday through innocent eyes.
Jentry’s head snapped up
, her face radiant, her eyes twinkling at Allie’s antics. Three weeks since the night of Battery Park and they’d spent every available moment together. Day and night. The radiance on her face, he put that there. Him. He wanted to keep her that way, happy and safe, but it wasn’t to be. The brutal claws of reality intruded.
Their gazes locked, and the twinkle in her eyes faded. “What’s wrong?”
He could lie. It would be easy. No secrets. No lies. Trust. Honesty. Loyalty. That’s what I wanted for us. You had to give it to get it.
“Carl Jones is waiting in the lobby.”
Color drained from her face and she visibly swallowed. Trembling, her gaze cut to Allie and he could see the war waging within her. She reached out and took Allie’s hand. The pain. The uncertainty was intolerable.
“One word and he’s dead. You never have to see him again.”
Tears clung to her eyelashes. He could do the deed without her approval or knowledge. He wanted her approval. No secrets. No lies… If he could help it. If it didn’t put her in danger. “What do you want, Jentry. Either way, I back your decision.”
“He’s gonna take her from me,” she whispered.
“Over my dead body.” He ground out the words through clenched teeth. It wasn’t an empty promise.
“Will you help me get away? Relocate…um… across the country, California, shit, Canada. Anywhere but here.”
He didn’t miss the desperate edge to her voice. She should never sound like that. Never. It made him feral. “No. I will protect you with my life, but I won’t help you run where I can’t protect you. You are mine. Both of you.”
Contempt replaced the fear in her eyes. Pleased, he waited for the green light. She looked away, chewing on her bottom lip. So uncharacteristic. She wasn’t one for indecision. What did it mean? Did she still love the man? Want him back in her life?
Fear carved a slice out of his heart.
Plain Jane and Mr. Wrong (Plain Jane Series Book 4) Page 37