by Ethan Cross
Taz puckered up his lips and slurped in a long, slow breath. Nic recognized the quirk as always proceeding Taz saying something Nic was not going to like. “How does Romeo feel about little deaf girls?”
“Absolutely not. I’m not going to use my niece to pry information out of my uncle. Besides, she’s still in school.”
“So take her on a field trip. She’s too smart for that place anyway. Have you seen that Common Core bullshit?”
“The answer is no.”
In his calm, grandfatherly way, Carter said, “I understand where you’re coming from, kid. You have principles. I respect that, and I would agree under normal circumstances. But people’s lives are on the line, and I have a bad feeling that those hostages aren’t the only ones in danger. We need all the help we can get. We need more pieces to the puzzle.”
“Plus his bar’s like fifteen, twenty minutes away,” Taz added. “You could have already been there in the time you been bitchin’ about it.”
Nic sighed. “But I’d have to pick up LJ from—”
Taz puckered his lips again. “She’s in the comm center. I sent a uniform to pick her up earlier.”
“That’s just great. Shaping up to be a wonderful day. Bristol’s cut my heart out twice, I took a chest full of lead for the rookie earlier, you’re sending me on errands like I’m your damn personal assistant, and my uncle may stab me to death. And I have no choice or say in any of it.”
Taz started digging in the pockets of his tactical vest and said, “I’m sorry, buddy. I thought I had some tissues and tampons in here somewhere.”
“Okay, that’s enough.”
“No, no. You can just wipe your tears on my shirt sleeve, and then we’ll find you a nice glass of warm milk.”
“You can stop now.”
Taz ignored him. “Then I’ll take you home, draw you a nice bubble bath, and you can just unwind to the sweet and soulful voice of Celine Dion.”
“Are you done?”
Taz thought about that. “Yes, I’m done.”
“What vehicle am I taking?”
“We’ll be taking Dr. Burke’s car,” Carter said.
Nic threw up his hands. “Whoa. That’s not going to happen. When I said Romeo doesn’t like feds, I misspoke. It’s more like he shoots them on sight. He’ll never talk to me again if I bring an ASAC into The Horse’s Head.”
Carter didn’t seem surprised. “I understand. But you still need a ride, and Dr. Burke isn’t a federal agent. Technically, he’s not even law enforcement.”
To Nic’s surprise, Burke actually seemed excited about the idea. “I’ve always wanted to meet a real-life mobster. I bet he has some fascinating stories.”
Nic ignored the young doctor, and looking at Carter, he said, “This will not end well. I’m not responsible if he comes out of there missing some teeth or fingers.”
“Dr. Burke can handle himself.”
Oblivious, Burke said, “By the way, I didn’t know you got shot today. That’s freaking awesome. I’ve always wanted to try that. What caliber was it?”
Chapter 43
Kruger cracked open the vault room door and looked out at the hostages. They would all be dead soon, their only crime being that they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. More accurately, they had found themselves in his path. Was that really all he was? A destroyer, leaving death and pain in his wake. He had always told himself that he was no different than the lions who slaughtered his family, a predator doing what came naturally and surviving on the flesh of the weak. He had never questioned his place at the top of the food chain, but now he wasn’t sure what he believed.
What did a lion do when he started feeling sorry for the gazelle? Such a lion would have to adjust his diet or perish. But, hopefully, with the money from this job, he would never have to worry about being hungry again.
He just needed to convince himself that he was the king of beasts for a bit longer, and then he’d be able to hang up his claws for good.
“How long before they start showing symptoms?” Kruger asked.
“Thirty minutes. Give or take,” Raskin replied.
“Then we had better get on with it.”
He closed the vault room door and checked all his weapons. Once locked and loaded, he said, “Are you ready?”
Raskin seemed hesitant to speak, as if she had something to say but was trying to be a silent partner, as he had instructed.
“What’s on your mind, doctor?”
“We had an agreement. No loose ends.”
“Are you suddenly questioning my resolve?”
Raskin narrowed her eyes and leaned close, her insolence and confidence slowly returning.
“I’m just concerned that you may be getting soft toward your little Indian princess,” she said.
He chuckled and shook his head. “You handle the science and tech and leave the killing to me. She’ll die along with the others. Zarina will see to it that there are no loose ends. No one sees our faces and lives. As I told you from the start, nothing ever goes exactly according to plan. We’ll deliver everything we promised. Now, are you ready to deliver your end?”
That smug, self-important gleam had returned to Raskin’s eyes. He just hoped she was half as smart as she claimed.
“How will I know when it’s safe to come out?” she asked.
He checked his weapons a second time and said, “When the shooting and screaming stops, that will be your sign that it’s safe to follow.”
Chapter 44
Nic stepped from Burke’s 1967 Firebird and stared at the unassuming entrance to The Horse’s Head. There was no name on the door or the building’s facade, no neon beer signs, or even so much as an open sign. Not that you would be able to see any sign like that through the mirrored windows. They were the same type of glass found in interrogation rooms, which meant the people inside could see out, but no one outside could see in.
The Horse’s Head was a private club occupying a three-story brick building only a few minutes from the lights of Vegas. To say it was off the beaten path was an understatement. It rested down a dead end street bordered on one side by a residential area filled with condos and older but newly renovated homes and a string of warehouses on the other. The locale gave the place a sense of standing apart from the rest of the world, and in a way, Nic supposed that it was somehow separate, to step inside was like stepping back in time to when the New York families and the Chicago Outfit ran Vegas.
Nic thought it was a bit ironic that most of the club’s members weren’t even alive during those days. The different families, including his own, still had a presence in Sin City, but now, giant multinational corporations controlled the casinos and the real money. Still, there was always room for the families to bank a fortune by controlling the industries that supplemented the casinos and attractions. Most of Romeo’s dealings were legitimate—beverage distribution contracts, real estate, construction, and the like—but just like Nic’s father, Romeo had no problem acquiring those contracts by strong-arming the competition or driving anyone who stood in his way out into the desert for a one-way scenic tour.
Still, despite anything Romeo had done, he was a teddy bear compared to Nic’s father, the ruthless and infamous Tommy Jewels.
Nic was lost in memories of visiting the Horse’s Head with his father during his youth, and so he didn’t notice that Burke had already exited the Firebird and reached the door. Burke pulled on the handle and then knocked.
Nic quickly helped LJ from the backseat because he knew that Burke would be in need of rescue when that door opened. But Nic was too late, the metal door parted, and a set of massive arms grabbed Burke by the shirt and lifted him from the ground.
The voice attached to the arms sounded more like the low growl of a grizzly bear than a person. “Members only. You’ll have to find your Strawberita elsewhere.” Then the massive arms shoved Burke back toward the curb.
To Nic’s surprise, Burke kept his balance and stepped toward the be
hemoth of a bouncer. Burke looked the six-foot-six bald man right in the eyes and said, “We have business with your boss. And if you lay those sausages you call fingers on me again, I’ll bite them off.”
Nic arrived in time to stop Joey from twisting Burke into a pretzel. He placed a hand on the big man’s chest and said, “He’s with me, Joey.”
The rage in the bouncer’s eyes only faded slightly. “Nicky Jewels. It’s been a long time,” Joey said.
“Yeah, probably Junior’s funeral. How’s your Ma?”
“Eighty-four years old and still running the restaurant. She had a stroke last year, but I knew she was too stubborn to die. She always said that she’d die in her kitchen, not some damn hospital.”
Nic laughed. “She’s tough. I still have nightmares about that time she caught me eating the cream for the cannolis.”
Joey didn’t return Nic’s smile. “You know it’s nothing personal, Nicky, but cops aren’t welcome here.”
“Just tell Romeo that his great niece would like to say hello. We’ll be quick.”
LJ gave Joey a wave and a smile, but his scowl only deepened. “Wait here,” he growled.
Burke signed something to LJ that Nic didn’t quite catch. She giggled and signed back, “I know right.”
“What did you just tell her?” Nic asked.
“That we may have located the missing link, and that I’m calling in National Geographic.”
Nic pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to fight off a stress headache. LJ didn’t like anyone over the age of sixteen, but of course, she and Burke had instantly become best buddies. He had never heard her giggle so much in his life, and he hoped it wasn’t because she was developing a crush on the young doctor.
He said, “You should be careful around that ‘missing link’ or you’ll end up just plain missing.”
“He doesn’t scare me.”
“And that’s what scares me. These guys aren’t punk kids. Joey’s the real deal. By the way, where did you learn sign language?”
Burke shrugged. “I tried to learn five languages over each summer vacation when I was in high school.”
“Of course you did,” Nic said. “’Cause that’s perfectly normal.”
“I’m not normal. Nor do I wish to be. I used to try so hard to act like I was, but I always failed. Finally, I accepted that I’ll never think and act like I’m a neurotypical.”
“So you can speak twenty different languages?”
“Twenty-six actually. If you count sign language and a few that I only have a rudimentary grasp on. Twenty-seven if you count pig latin.”
“Did you just make a joke?” Nic said, stone-faced.
“Apparently not a very funny one.”
LJ, who had probably been reading their lips, tapped Burke on the shoulder and signed, “Don’t worry about him. He only understands lowest common denominator humor. He laughed at that Adam Sandler movie where he played twin siblings.”
Burke winced. “I heard the CIA is using that movie on terrorists now because it’s a more effective torture method than waterboarding.”
LJ snickered, and her cheeks became flushed.
Nic wagged his finger between them and said, “I don’t know what this is, but I don’t like it.”
The metal door reopened, and Joey poked his head out. “Mr. Romeo will see you now, but when you walk through this door, you ain’t a cop no more. You try to show blue up in here, and you’ll come out covered in red. That clear?”
“Crystal.” Nic leaned in close, so that only Joey could hear. “But you let all the other patrons know that I’m still a Juliano. Spilling red and busting heads is in my blood. Being in the army and SWAT has made me more dangerous, not less.”
Joey smiled. “I’ll let everyone know that Nicky Jewels is still part of the family. Cop or not.”
Chapter 45
Gabi had been monitoring the young gunman’s gradual descent into panic and fear. Now, rather than thinking of a weapon to use against her attackers, she was plotting how she could turn them against one another.
Gathering up every ounce of her courage, Gabi stood and walked toward the armed man. He didn’t notice until she was five feet from him, but when he did notice, he brought his rifle to his eye and said, “Don’t move!”
“I just want to talk to you for a moment.”
“Sit your ass back down.”
“Or what?” she said calmly.
“Or I’ll put a bullet through your skull.”
He let his rifle fall to his side, still attached by its sling. Then he raised the silenced pistol hidden beneath his long coat.
“Don’t test me, little girl,” he said. “I got the balls. I’ll do it.”
In a calm whisper, she said, “I know you do. You were a soldier, weren’t you?”
“Sit down.”
“We’re just talking. I know you don’t want to hurt anyone. But your boss is another story. You’ve seen how he is. Do you think he wouldn’t betray you?”
“Shut up and go back to the others. I can shoot you in a lot of places that won’t kill you,” the gunman said and aimed his pistol toward her kneecap.
She held up her hands and said, “Take it easy. Just think about it. You’re completely surrounded. How do you think this ends? How are you getting out of this? Do you even have a plan?”
“Like I’m going to tell you,” he said.
But Gabi saw a hesitation there. A drop in confidence. Doubt mixed with fear.
“You have no idea, do you?” she said. “He hasn’t even told you the plan.”
“Shut up.” His voice shook and lacked any emphasis.
She continued, “Why would he keep that from you? Think about it. He’s using you.”
“That’s enough.”
“What are they doing in the vault room?”
“Playing cards. What the hell you think they’re doing? They’re busting into the vault.”
She laughed and shook her head. “You don’t even know how this place works, do you? The vault is buried a hundred feet under the ground. There’s no way to access it.”
The look of confusion on his face turned to fear.
“Whatever they’re doing has nothing to do with getting money out of a vault. They’re playing you for a fool.”
The look of confused fear turned to anger, and he closed the distance between them, jamming the end of the suppressor against her forehead. She closed her eyes and said a silent prayer. He was obviously unstable and scared out of his mind. She had pushed him too hard, right over the edge. She heard her oldest brother’s voice in her head saying, “You’re an uppity bitch, and you talk too much. Just shut up and take what’s coming to you.”
She felt the end of the suppressor shaking against her forehead. She heard his heavy breathing, felt it against her chest and neck. She had always known that she would die at the hands of some weak, angry man.
Finally, he said, “I’m not an idiot. I can think for myself. Now, you sit your ass down before I do something we’ll both regret.”
Without another word, she returned to the couch beside the others. But as she did, Gabi continued to watch the frightened young man. She could see his wheels turning and knew that she had accomplished her goal. When he glanced toward the vault room door with narrowed eyes, she knew for sure. The seeds of doubt and distrust had been planted and were taking root.
Chapter 46
Nic reluctantly left Burke and LJ alone in the bar. Romeo wanted a private word in his office. Nic knew that couldn’t be good. His uncle was notorious for his temper and hated when people showed up unannounced.
Joey led Nic past the pool tables and the bathrooms to an old door made of a dark mahogany. A gold plaque on the door read, Office — Do Not Disturb.
As Joey reached for the knob, he said, “Good luck, Nicky. He’s already in a pissy mood today.”
Nic winced and said, “Wonderful. Thanks for the warning.”
The office smelled like a mixture of
old leather, cigar smoke, and some kind of floral aroma. He noticed a diffuser on his uncle’s desk, probably pumping out something like lavender oil. Romeo used it to mask the cigar smell. In case Aunt Cecilia stopped by unannounced.
Romeo had his feet up on his desk, a glass of scotch in his hand, and he was staring at the massive marlin mounted on the left wall of the office above the many dark red leather couches that filled the room. This was a very bad sign. Romeo had caught the marlin on a fishing trip to Bermuda with Nic, his older brother, and his father.
It was a great memory, but he knew that Romeo only stared at the fish like that when something was wrong, and Romeo was considering running away to somewhere tropical.
Romeo didn’t look over at Nic, but he said, “Sit. I’d offer you a drink, but I know you’re on duty, officer.”
“I remember when you reeled that thing in,” Nic said. “It put up one hell of a fight. Junior and I almost fell in trying to get the big SOB into the boat.”
“Yeah. Better days.”
This was an even worse sign. Romeo was not a calm man. He was usually bursting with an almost manic energy, always on the verge of laughter or anger. Nic wasn’t even sure how to handle his uncle in this kind of state.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Romeo downed the scotch and returned his feet to the floor. “What do you care?”
“Don’t do that. We’re family, and I love you. Even if you are a grumpy old asshole.”
A faint smile crept onto Romeo’s face. His uncle was in his late fifties, but the years had been good to him. He still had a thick head of slicked-back brown hair with only a touch of grey at the temples. He was a very handsome man, even with the scars on his neck and jaw line. Once upon a time, he had been quite the ladies’ man, hence the nickname. To a casual observer, the scars weren’t all that noticeable anymore. They could have been from a bad case of acne in Romeo’s youth or something equally mundane. Nic, of course, knew that the scars were actually from a car bomb that had killed his uncle’s first wife.