“Girls say they left together this morning. Them for school, Cal headed for the office. Kate said Vi was hungover. He left her in bed. Somethin’ got her out of that bed but she didn’t make it and she also didn’t make a mess gettin’ ready. Nothin’ that looks like she even left in a hurry.”
“Cal wouldn’t –?”
“Grab her and go? Not without the girls.”
“I’ll get a man at the school, just in case they turn up,” Sully said.
“I’m doin’ another sweep of the house,” Colt told him then asked, “Where’s Mike?”
“Climbin’ the bloody walls at Cal’s office,” Sully answered, not being funny, being almost literal.
“He may need to be locked down,” Colt advised.
“Boys headin’ his way know, everyone knows. Sean’s off today but he’s been called and he’s headed to Mike.”
Colt looked back at the house to see the girls hadn’t moved.
“I gotta get into that house,” he told Sully.
“Yeah. I’m command central as of now. You get anything, you feed it to me.”
“Got it and what you get, you feed to Pryor.”
Sully didn’t have to agree, he’d do it. Instead he said, “While you’re lookin’ around, pray.”
Colt didn’t normally have time for that. He was of a mind that God didn’t need to be informed of his own business but with what was going down and those two girls looking out the window, he’d make time.
“Out,” he said to Sully.
“Later,” Sully replied and disconnected.
Colt forced himself to walk calmly to the house. He opened the door and both girls were no longer at the window. They were at the door waiting for him.
“Mom?” Kate asked and Colt shook his head.
“We’re lookin’. Feb’s comin’ over. Can you make coffee?”
Kate nodded but Keira spoke and what she asked meant Kate didn’t move.
“Where’s Joe? Has anyone called Joe?”
Jesus. How did he answer that?
Shit.
“We can’t find Joe,” he answered and Keira turned to Kate, her movement jerky, panicked.
Dammit, where the fuck was Feb?
Kate’s arms slid around her sister but her eyes stayed on Colt.
“Keirry, let’s make Colt coffee.”
“But –” Keira started and Kate looked at her sister.
“Coffee,” she whispered, Keira’s lip quivered and then she nodded.
Both girls moved to the kitchen and Colt went to the bedroom.
He stood in the center of the floor space and looked around. Unmade bed. Cal’s jeans on the floor. All of Vi’s clothes, including bra, tossed to the floor around Cal’s jeans. The top of the dresser was tidy, the drawers all closed, no clothes hanging out as if hastily pulled out and the drawers shoved closed. Some jewelry sitting on top but there was more on Cal’s nightstand.
She’d taken off her clothes before she hit the bed and she hit the bed on Cal’s side but he’d taken off her jewelry last night, put it on his nightstand. Her nightstand had a lamp, a book and a jar of moisturizer. Nothing else. If she took off her jewelry in bed, it’d be on her nightstand. Cal took it off her.
“Talk to me,” he muttered as he walked to the bed and he saw it.
The covers weren’t thrown back like you do when you get out of bed. It was like she slid out from under them. Colt walked to them, carefully lifted an edge of the covers and saw a phone in the bed.
“Fuck me,” he murmured and picked up the phone. He flipped it open and went to received calls. The last one was from Cal. Colt looked to the bedside clock. She got the call just over thirty minutes ago.
He looked back to the clothes on the floor.
Cal’s jeans, socks, Vi’s skirt, top, bra. Colt’s eyes scanned – a pair of sandals that looked like they were kicked off, sitting by the side of the dresser.
Cal wore tees and Colt reckoned Vi wore underwear.
He went to the clothes and toed them.
No tee and no underwear.
She’d put on Cal’s tee and her underwear from last night.
“Fuck me,” he repeated.
She had been in a hurry. In such a hurry that she hadn’t even dressed. Just pulled on Cal’s tee, her underwear and took off. She got the call while in bed, dropped the phone, slid out without even moving the covers off her, got dressed and went.
Whatever Cal said to her made her move. Or whatever someone said to her on Cal’s phone made her move.
Colt opened his phone, hit Sully’s number and put it to his ear.
“Talk to me,” Sully said.
“My guess, she’s in Cal’s tee, black, not wearin’ shoes. She left her phone in the bed.”
“How you guess that?”
“Yesterday’s clothes are still on the floor, her underwear missin’, Cal’s tee missin’ and her phone was in the bed. I don’t picture Cal as a man who picks his clothes up off the floor. Vi does it like Feb does for me, in the morning when she gets up. He stripped off before goin’ to bed like he probably always does. She stripped off because she was drunk. This morning she got a call from Cal’s phone thirty minutes ago. She grabbed what was handy and she moved.”
“But moved where? Eric reports her car in the drive.”
“No clue.”
“We need to see if we can track the GPS in his phone, got his number?”
“I’ll text it to you.”
“Do it fast.”
“You got it. I’ll keep lookin’.”
“Not much, just knowin’ Vi moved out quick and she’s wearin’ a black tee.” It sounded like a complaint but Sully was just bitching because he was worried.
“Get Pryor on the line. I want Daniel Hart’s MO. And get him to call Sal Giglia. This is family and Giglia could use some brownie points with the cops.”
“Giglia’s got issues, he needs to focus.”
“Giglia’s issues are with Daniel Hart. He cooperates, his war gets a lot less bloody.”
“You ever hear of a big man in the mob sittin’ down with cops, family or not?”
“Nope, but I’ve heard about Giglia and I know he’s unpredictable, he’s got brass balls and he does shit just because it amuses him. Maybe we’ll get lucky and this’ll amuse him.”
“Yeah,” Sully muttered, “maybe we’ll get lucky,” then Colt heard the disconnect.
Colt scrolled to Cal’s number, memorized it and then texted it to Sully.
He moved into the bathroom as he heard Feb call her hellos to the girls, thank Christ.
* * * * *
“I don’t wanna hear this shit,” Vinnie said, sitting out on Sal’s back porch, Sal’s breakfast and coffee dishes on the table, most of the food untouched, the coffee, though, was gone.
“Vincent,” Sal muttered.
“Somethin’ happens to Cal –” Vinnie started.
“Got my boys on it,” Sal stated, his face closed.
He was locked tight. This was because he was worried.
Sal was an asshole and Vinnie hated him. Vinnie grew up with him and never much liked him but when Sal took his son, the hate began. But Sal was a family man, you worked for him or not. He felt what happened to Vinnie Junior and he felt it deep. It wasn’t just one of his boys who he also thought of as family. It was just plain family and that went deeper. Cal, the same. Vinnie Junior was family, he was one of Sal’s boys. But Cal was also family and he was smart, sharp, honest and didn’t take shit. And Cal had taken a bullet for Sal. Cal was not only family to Sal, Sal respected him. That went even deeper.
This shit cut to the bone beyond Sal surviving last night’s bloodbath. It wasn’t Sal who screwed the pooch but it was his responsibility that his man missed. This was on him and he felt it.
“What I hear, Hart doesn’t fuck around. He finds his mark, the bullet goes into the brain,” Vinnie noted, he hated saying it, hated even thinking it but that was what he knew.
“He w
on’t get Cal,” Sal remarked.
“He does –”
“He won’t.”
The two men stared at each other and then Sal’s eyes went over Vinnie’s shoulder.
“You get Cal?” Sal asked and Vinnie turned to see one of Sal’s soldiers standing just outside the house.
“No, but the cops are on the phone,” his boy answered.
“Talked to the cops last night. Today got things to do. You call Indianapolis like I asked? Get someone down there to move in?” Sal pressed and the boy’s face stayed solid. He was locked tight too.
Vinnie knew why when he spoke. “They’re steerin’ clear. It’s all over the radio. Joe Callahan and his woman are both missin’. Cops in some ‘burg fifteen miles west of Indy are on the hunt. Two boys shot at Callahan’s offices. Chicago PD preliminary identification from pictures puts them in Hart’s army.”
Vinnie’s ass came off the chair. He didn’t stand but he also wasn’t sitting.
“Vi’s girls?” he asked and the soldier’s eyes came to him.
“What?”
“Cal’s woman’s daughters. They safe?” Vinnie explained.
“Haven’t heard anything about them,” the man answered.
“Find out and tell the cops to go fuck themselves,” Sal ordered and the man looked at his boss.
“They want a meet. They want cooperation. Feds are in town and they got news for you. They say they think this meet could be mutually beneficial,” the soldier said to Sal.
This was news, such news it was shocking. The Chicago PD and Feds sitting down with family to make mutually beneficial deals? In this mess, that was a ray of light. Theresa, if she knew about it, which she fucking didn’t, would call it a miracle.
Vinnie forced himself to sit down and he forced his voice to a whisper when he demanded, “Take the meet.”
Sal didn’t take his eyes from his boy and his face betrayed nothing.
“Sal, take the fuckin’ meet,” Vinnie kept whispering, “this is about Cal.”
“Tell them we meet here,” Sal ordered his man.
* * * * *
“Tina reports she saw Vi get into a black Cadillac sometime after eight o’clock. She said Vi was wearin’ nothing but a t-shirt. No shoes. She just ran out of the house, caddy was on the street, the door was thrown open, she got in and the car took off,” Eric told Colt and Colt studiously kept his eyes from going to Tina’s house. If they went to Tina’s house, he might feel the need to walk over there and shake her until her fucking teeth rattled.
“That bitch knows Vi has a situation, fuck, the whole town knows, and Vi’s jumpin’ into cars wearin’ nothin’ but a tee and she didn’t say shit until I knocked on her goddamned door over an hour after Vi was taken,” Eric continued, his voice vibrating and Colt knew Eric had similar thoughts in his head about Tina.
Colt bit his lip then he asked, “She see Cal?”
“Nope, but she reports a black truck was behind the caddy.”
“Cal’s truck is in his office lot,” Colt informed Eric.
“She says it wasn’t his truck. An SUV. Escalade.”
“She get plates?”
“Said she wasn’t payin’ that much attention.”
Colt knew that was a lie. She was paying attention just not to the license plates.
“Highway Patrol been notified?” Colt asked.
“Yeah,” Eric replied.
“What about Lindy?”
“She’s not home. Her man says she works seven to four.”
“She was at the office,” Colt whispered.
“She was at the office,” Eric repeated.
“Pryor says Hart’s MO is not to mess around. Go for the kill,” Colt noted.
“He may have done him in the SUV but he didn’t do him at the offices. Blood’s from the boys Cal took out,” Eric remarked.
Colt called it down. “Been to Cal’s offices. Lindy sits out front. Cal has an office in the back, doesn’t use it much, but he’s got it. They went in, Cal put up a fight but they got to her and somehow managed to use Lindy as leverage. This meant they’ve probably got Lindy and Cal. They got his phone, called Vi from it while sittin’ in front of her house. She knew, the call comin’ from his phone, bad shit had gone down and she didn’t think, husband dead, brother dead, she just acted and she did it hungover and fast, doin’ exactly what she was told.”
Eric rocked back on his heels and said quietly, “Yep, reckon so.”
Colt looked over his shoulder at Vi’s house. Feb was in there and now so was Cheryl. He looked to the street, saw Jessie’s car pull up to the curb in front of Vi’s house. Then he looked down the street to see Josie Judd’s Jeep heading toward the house.
“Let’s hope he goes off script,” Colt muttered as Jessie exited her car, threw the door too and half-walked, half-ran to the house.
“I’m already hopin’,” Eric muttered back.
* * * * *
“God dammit,” Benny muttered when the cars he was following separated. The black caddy Benny knew was carrying Violet went one way. The black SUV Benny guessed was carrying Cal went the opposite way.
Benny made a decision and followed Cal. If his cousin was still alive, they got him to where they wanted him to be, he wouldn’t stay that way much longer. Violet had a better chance.
Benny made the turn and his eyes went to his rearview mirror.
Frankie was shit at a tail. He’d clocked her outside Chicago when he’d left at four that morning.
Benny had made the decision to drive down to Cal’s ‘burg when repeated calls went unanswered. He had no choice. It was a hell of a drive but Cal needed to be warned.
Frankie had been following at his high speed for the last seven fucking hours, all the way down through Indiana and, once there, seeing what he saw, then all the way back up. He had to spend half of his time keeping himself invisible and half of his time making sure she was the same way.
He watched her leave him and follow the caddy.
“Fuck!” he exploded, tagged his phone on the seat beside him, scrolled down to her number which he’d meant to erase about seven dozen times in the last seven years but he’d not only not done it, he’d programmed her new numbers in the three times she got them.
He was okay with her on his ass and he left her to it. She went it alone, that he was not okay with.
He hit go and she answered, “Hello?”
“Stand down, Frankie,” he growled.
“He’s got the woman. You’re on Cal, I’m on her,” she said, her voice calm.
Jesus, he forgot this about her. Francesca was a fuckin’ nut. Nothing scared her, not before life got scary. Attitude mixed with idiot fearlessness and a whole lot of not knowing what the hell she’s doing. Not a good combination. Christ.
“Stand… the fuck… down,” he repeated.
“Benny, I won’t do anything. I’ll call Sal, he’ll send –”
He cut her off. “You get the location, you call Sal, you get the fuck outta there.”
“I’ll just stay, keep an eye out,” she replied.
“You’ll get the fuck outta there,” he was again fucking repeating himself.
“I’ll hang tight and they won’t see me,” she said.
“Woman, you have no idea what you’re doin’. I know you’ve been on my ass since the turnpike.”
She was quiet then she said, “Oh well,” then she stopped speaking.
“Oh well?” Benny asked, wondering if it was possible for his head actually to explode and thinking if it was he was close.
“Ben –”
“They’re stupid enough to let you know their location, you feed it to Sal and you get the fuck outta there.”
“Ben –”
“I got things on my mind, babe, and I don’t need you bein’ one of them.”
She was quiet again then she said, “He’s not gettin’ another one of us.”
Fuck. Now he knew where her head was at. This was about Vinnie. This wa
s about Cal. This was about Frankie being family even though that family turned their back on her.
“Frankie –”
“He’s taken enough from us.”
Benny’s voice went soft. “Francesca, honey –”
“You don’t do anything stupid. You call backup too.”
“Babe –” he said to no one. She’d disconnected.
Fucking hell.
He scrolled down to Sal’s number in his phone and he hit go.
* * * * *
“You think you mighta wanted to tell me this shit when you saw the woman climb into that car?” Sal asked Benny who was on his phone.
“You made this mess. Do you think I was fired up to call you in to clean it up?” Benny asked back.
Fuck, but only Benito Bianchi would speak to him that way. Even Cal had respect. Benny played the game before his brother bought it, since then he didn’t give a fuck.
The fucking Bianchis. Always a pain in his fucking ass.
“I was in Indiana, Sal, what were you gonna do?” Benny went on.
“Get fuckin’ organized,” Sal snapped into the phone then ordered, “stand down.”
“He’s been in there the length of this call and they’ve also got some girl. Blood on both of them, Sal, she didn’t look too good. I’m goin’ in,” Benny told him.
“The cops and Feds just left my house. They want this. Bad. Let me call them so they can get boys on it,” Sal demanded.
“They need to hurry. I’m goin’ in,” Benny returned.
“Benny,” Sal said to a dead phone.
He flipped it shut and had trouble catching Vinnie’s eyes. He didn’t need to look at his cousin to know that he was barely keeping his cool and his seat.
He was saved having to say anything when his phone rang and he saw on the display it was Frankie.
He flipped it open. “Amata, now’s not the time.”
“Cal’s woman is at Hart’s house,” she informed him and Sal went still.
“How do you know that?” Sal asked.
“Because I’m –”
She didn’t finish. Instead she let out a small scream and the line went dead.
Chapter Twenty-One
Bare Feet
Cal watched the goon toss Lindy aside, she hit the floor and went skidding, leaving a trail of blood.