A man was standing there, one of the two who’d been in the car with me during the longest, most uncomfortable, most terrifying ride of my life. The whole time I felt like I was going to get sick not only because of my hangover but because of my fucking life and the fact that I knew they could never have Joe’s phone without having Joe. I didn’t know what they had to do to get to a man like Joe. I just knew it wasn’t good.
“I’m in the middle of something,” Hart said to his minion.
“We got a situation,” his minion replied and Hart stared at him looking unhappy then he turned to me.
“Change,” he ordered.
“You gonna kill me if I don’t?” I snapped.
He leaned forward and barked, “Change!”
I leaned forward too, too far gone to read the warning behind his quick shift in mood from Mr. Charm to Mr. Mean and shouted, “Fuck you!”
“Danny! For Christ’s sake, we got a situation,” the minion repeated.
Hart didn’t turn to him. Instead he said to me, “I recommend you get smart pretty fuckin’ soon.”
“And I recommend you go fuck yourself,” I shot back and then suddenly I was on my hands and knees. This was because he backhanded me hard.
I’d never been hit, not in my life, and it hurt. I stayed still, blinking away the pain and felt him lean over me.
“Change,” he whispered then I felt his presence move away.
I didn’t move while I waited for the pain to clear and then I decided I wasn’t going to change. Fuck him. Fuck him. Fuck him!
I got to my feet and sucked in a long breath. Then I looked at the pool and I looked at it for a long time.
Then I decided that my beautiful daughter Keira was never going to stick even her toe in that pool.
I didn’t know how I was going to get out of this but I knew I was going to have to get out of this. Then get to Barry. They might not take someone hanging out on your street and sending you gifts very seriously but they sure as fuck better take kidnapping seriously.
That asshole was going down.
And I was going to get on with my life. Again.
Without Joe.
I should have been like Theresa and taken pictures, loads of pictures. Pictures of him sleeping. Pictures of him with the girls. Pictures of him drinking coffee. Pictures of him mowing the lawn. Pictures of him watching TV. Pictures of him breathing.
Joe was so wrong to get rid of his pictures of Nicky. I needed pictures. I needed the memories. Lots of them.
I only had one picture of him. The one with him and Nicky already on my Dead People I Love Shelf.
Well at least that was a timesaver. I wouldn’t have to move it.
I laughed, the sound was harsh and the feel of it bit at my throat.
Then I felt a tear slide down my face.
My mind moved to my daughters. I didn’t know what time it was but they’d know when they got home something was wrong. Then they’d have to find out Joe was never coming home. Then I’d have to find a way to put the pieces of us together again.
I felt another tear slide down my face but this time it coincided with a sob sliding up my throat.
I choked it down and put a hand to the glass as my legs started trembling because I knew I was clean out of emotional glue. This one had broken me. I knew it. I felt it. I was broken. There were no strong arms to hold me together. No big, hard body to climb into bed with and hold onto. Not this time. Never again. Not… ever… again.
“Let’s move,” I heard an impatient voice saying and I whirled around to see one of Hart’s henchmen moving closer to me.
“What?” I asked.
He didn’t answer. He grabbed my arm and dragged me out of the room.
I dropped the robe on my way out.
* * * * *
“I’m Frankie,” she whispered.
“I’m Violet,” I whispered back.
“Cal’s woman,” she said and I swallowed.
“Yeah,” I replied and that one word broke because I was, for a short, glorious period of time where me and my girls were able to make him smile, make him laugh, give him what he always wanted.
Hell, just that morning he was teasing me.
And I’d told him to go away.
And he did, to tell my girls good-bye for me after seeing to it that they got ready for school.
I closed my eyes tight as the memory assaulted my brain.
She was silent a moment then she said, “He’ll be okay.”
“They killed him,” I told her.
“What?” she asked, her voice getting louder, tighter, pissed.
“Quiet!” the henchman barked.
Sitting in the back of the car, Frankie and I got quiet.
Then she reached out and took my hand.
Then she squeezed.
* * * * *
“House’s clear. They hauled ass,” Pryor told Cal and Benny.
They were standing on the sidewalk outside Hart’s house. There were cop cars everywhere, Chicago PD and Feds crawling all over the place.
“Any clue where they’d go?” Benny asked.
“Got men out everywhere,” Pryor answered, his eyes on Cal. “They musta got a tipoff that we were comin’.”
“Frankie,” Benny muttered.
“Boss,” a uniform called as he walked to their huddle. “We got film,” he said when he stopped and all the men’s eyes turned to him but he was eyeing up Cal.
“Film?” Pryor prompted.
“Civilians,” the uniform murmured, using his chin to indicate Benny and Cal.
“Spill it, Krakowski,” Pryor bit out.
The uniform looked at Pryor and nodded. “They took him,” his head jerked to Cal, “to a warehouse with cameras. Feed went to the house. Boys figure they hauled ass when he,” another jerk of the head to Cal, “took down Hart’s two boys then drilled rounds in their legs.”
“Self-defense,” Benny stated instantly.
“Right,” the uniform replied, his gaze shifting to Benny, his mouth hard, “by the way, did I mention we got film?”
“We’ll sort that out later,” Pryor cut in then went on, muttering to himself, “so he saw Joe got loose and took off where?”
“More film,” the uniform said and Pryor’s eyes focused on him.
“Jesus, Krako, spit it out,” Pryor snapped.
“Security of the house. They got a brunette too. She was sittin’ in her car outside,” he pointed at a sweet, old model, red, Nissan Z car at the curb. “They nabbed her, took her into the house, five minutes later both women were in a car with a coupla Hart’s boys and headin’ out. Hart followed in another car. Got the cars and plates. They’re already out on the line.”
Pryor looked at Cal. “It’s somethin’.”
Cal stared at Pryor and didn’t reply. It was something, this was true, it just wasn’t fucking much. And after Benny and Pryor briefed him, now Cal knew that Hart knew Cal had called Sal for the hit which meant his motivation had shifted. He also knew that Cal was loose and he likely knew the Feds were on his ass. The man was whacked which meant, him knowing all that, he wasn’t going to follow script. He was going to be unpredictable. This was evidenced by the fact that he drove Cal all the way to Chicago to finish him off. Outside his MO. Hart normally didn’t fuck around. Hart wanted Cal in Chicago because Hart wanted it filmed because Hart wanted to watch him die.
Cal wasn’t a chore, a mess to clean up. This was retribution.
And he had Frankie and Vi.
“Fuck,” Cal muttered.
They all turned when a paramedic jogged up to them.
“Gotta get the girl to the hospital,” the paramedic said and all eyes shifted to the ambulance where Lindy was sitting on the back and another paramedic was squatting by her leg. “You comin’?” the paramedic asked Cal.
“Nope,” Cal replied and the paramedic’s gaze moved through both of Cal’s graze wounds before they went back to his eyes. “I’m good,” Cal finished.
/> “You need those seen to,” the paramedic advised.
“I’m good,” Cal repeated.
“But –” he started, Cal’s body shifted slightly and he stopped speaking then muttered, “right.” He nodded to Cal then Pryor then hoofed it back to the ambulance.
Cal started to move away, saying, “We’ll be at Sal’s.”
Benny moved with him when Pryor called, sounding surprised, “You waitin’ this out?”
“Not much else to do,” Cal responded and headed to Benny’s SUV.
“Um…” the uniform mumbled loudly, “we might have some ques –”
“Later,” Cal heard Pryor cut him off.
“But –”
“Later.”
Cal swung into the passenger side of Benny’s SUV as Benny climbed behind the wheel.
Benny turned to him. “We goin’ to Sal’s to wait it out?”
“Fuck no,” Cal replied, “we’re gonna find Ricky.”
“Cal,” Benny said low and Cal turned to him.
“Ricky, Benny.”
Benny stared at him, got that crazy motherfucking grin on his face again, started the car and then shot from the curb.
* * * * *
“What the fuck, Danny!” Frankie and I heard the minion’s angry shout from the other room.
“Don’t,” Daniel Hart returned.
“This shit is fucked,” the minion shot back. “We don’t got a situation. We got fuckin’ four.”
“I’m handling it,” Hart retorted.
“Yeah, right,” the henchman snapped, “you’re not handlin’ shit. You’re still chasin’ twat. Fuck! We shoulda took him out in Indiana. Crazy ass shit, bringin’ that fuckin’ guy to Chicago.”
“I wanted to watch,” Hart replied and I closed my eyes and pulled in breath.
Frankie grabbed my hand.
“Like I said, fucked,” the other man was still shouting, “two boys down there, Danny. Took out two of ours down there. Cops in our business everywhere for weeks. And I got sources tellin’ me the Feds got the books. Giglia’s boys are on the hunt and our men are scramblin’. And that guy’s stone cold. You saw what he fuckin’–”
“Quiet,” Hart’s voice was low but sharp.
“Hands behind his back, Danny.”
My eyes opened and I looked at Frankie who for some reason was smiling.
“Quiet!” Hart shouted and there was quiet.
I felt Frankie’s body get tense then she released my hand. I tore my eyes from the closed door we were behind and watched her move.
“Frankie!” I hissed but she just lifted a hand and waved it at me as she moved on silent feet across the room.
“I’m your man, Danny,” the minion said, his voice quieter, “been your man a long time but I’m not goin’ down for some dead cop’s cunt.”
“What did you say?” Hart asked as I watched Frankie at a window, she was taking her time, trying to be quiet and slowly working it up.
I left the couch we were sitting on and ran on bare thus luckily silent feet toward her.
“You heard me,” the henchman stated.
Frankie pushed the window up and it made a noise which was drowned out by a gunshot. Frankie and I jumped and looked over our shoulders at the closed door.
“Danny!” the other henchman in Hart’s posse shouted, “Jesus Christ, you just shot Brady. What the fuck!”
“Go,” Frankie whispered and I looked at her. Then I threw myself through the window, landing on soft turf. I rolled away from the window and got to my feet. She followed me out, I grabbed her hand, yanked her up and we ran.
We heard the second gunshot as we went.
* * * * *
Benny led and Cal followed as Benny opened the door to a sleazy bar that had the name of Slim Jim’s.
Ricky was sitting at the end of the bar looking the same as ever. Thinning non-descript hair. Thin non-descript face. Thin non-descript body. Weasel eyes and, even though Cal couldn’t see him or hear him, he knew Ricky had bad teeth and was a mouth breather.
Ricky’s head came up when Benny came in. He clocked Benny and then he was on the move.
Benny and Cal sprinted after him.
They caught him out the back alley, Benny grabbing him by the back of his shirt, he yanked him to a halt then turned him and shoved him face first against the wall.
Benny grabbed his wrist, twisted his arm around and up, got close to his back and asked in his ear, “Why you runnin’, Ricky?”
Ricky turned his head, saw Cal and his face got white.
“Jesus,” he whispered then rallied, “hey Cal.”
“Talk,” Cal replied.
“About what?” Ricky asked, Benny pushed in closer and Ricky’s eyeballs slid way to the side in an effort to take in Benny. “Yeesh, Benny, man, what the fuck?”
“Talk,” Benny repeated Cal’s word.
“Like I said, about what?” Ricky asked.
“About where Hart would take Cal’s woman,” Benny answered and Ricky’s eyes went to Cal.
“You got a woman?” he asked, openly surprised or acting that way.
“Ricky, we don’t got a lotta time,” Cal said instead of answering.
Benny pushed off and moved a foot away so Ricky could turn to face them, back still to the brick wall of the alley.
Ricky’s eyebrows went up. “You two workin’ for Sal?”
“Cal asked you a question, Ricky. We don’t got a lotta time.” Benny reminded him.
Ricky’s eyes went to Benny. “Don’t know nothin’ ‘bout Hart.”
Benny looked at Cal. Cal caught his eye and then looked at Ricky. Then he moved, dipping low, he caught Ricky with an upper cut to his kidneys. Ricky’s arms went around his belly, he bent forward and coughed.
After doing this for thirty seconds, his head shot back and he wheezed, “What the fuck!”
“Where would Hart go on the run?” Cal asked.
“Hart’s a crazy motherfucker. Don’t know nothin’ ‘bout him, don’t wanna know nothin’ ‘bout him,” Ricky answered and Benny moved in, hand wrapping around Ricky’s throat, pinning him to the brick wall.
“It’s your business,” Benny reminded him, “Mr. Information. You know everything about everyone.”
“Don’t know about Hart,” Ricky rasped, his fingers curling around Benny’s forearm.
“We don’t got time to deal. You sell information. Today, you’re buyin’ it with your health,” Benny informed him.
“Ben,” Ricky choked, “you know Hart. I got in his business, he’d get in mine. Don’t need that shit. I steer clear.”
“You got to have heard somethin’,” Cal told him and Ricky’s eyes came to Cal.
“I hear it, I forget it, I stay breathin’,” Ricky’s voice sounded strangled and he was tearing at Benny’s forearm with his fingernails.
“What’d you forget?” Benny asked, leaning in close and Ricky gagged. “What’d you forget!” Benny shouted in his face.
“Ben, boy can’t talk if you choke him to death,” Cal said quietly, Benny looked over his shoulder at Cal and stepped back.
Benny’s phone rang and since it was in Cal’s back pocket, Cal pulled it out, looked at the display and his brows snapped together. He flipped it open and put it to his ear.
“Yo,” he said.
“Collect call from Francesca Concetti. Will you accept the charges?” an operator asked.
“Yes,” Cal clipped, his eyes sliced to Benny and he mouthed, “Frankie.”
Benny’s back went straight.
“Ben?” Francesca whispered.
“Frankie?”
“Oh Jesus,” she was still whispering, “Cal?”
“Frankie where the fuck are you?”
“Boathouse –” she started then he heard Vi, her voice tight, high, something weird in it.
“Is that Joe?”
“Yeah,” Frankie whispered.
“Give it to me,” Cal heard Vi demand and then he heard a tussle. Final
ly, Vi came on the phone. “Joe?”
“Baby, where are you?”
“Joe!” she squealed.
“Jesus, Violet, keep it down,” he heard Frankie hiss.
“Oh Joe, Jesus, honey, oh God,” Vi whispered then he heard a tortured sob.
“Buddy, hold it together and tell me where you –” he stopped talking when he heard the phone moving around and then he was back to Frankie.
“Hart told her you were dead,” Frankie explained and Cal clenched his teeth because this was a cruel thing to do to anyone, especially Vi; because he could still hear Violet’s sobs; because he was getting no information; and lastly because they were on the phone but it sounded like they were unsafe.
“I’m alive. Where are you?”
“He took us to a boathouse. North. We’re on the lake. We climbed out the window, went through the trees and broke into another house,” Frankie answered.
“Hart’s not there?”
“No, he’s –” she was cut off by Vi.
“Let me talk to him.”
“Girl, we gotta –”
“Frankie,” Cal cut in, “stay on the line.”
“Let me talk to him!” Vi demanded.
“Shit,” Frankie muttered then he heard a faraway, “here.”
Cal’s teeth were still clenched and he was glaring at Benny who still had Ricky against the wall with a loose hold at his throat but his eyes were locked on Cal.
“Joe –” Vi began.
“Honey, I know you’re freaked but you gotta give the phone back to Frankie,” Cal told her.
“Why?” Violet asked.
“Because she’s got her shit together and she can lead me to you.”
“But I know exactly where we are. Dad had a boat up here. We’re –”
He heard Frankie cut in. “Violet, I hear somethin’.”
“Where are you?” Cal asked urgently.
“Oh God, they’re here,” Violet whispered.
“Violet, God dammit, where are you?” Cal shouted but the line was dead. “Jesus fucking Christ!” Cal roared, snapped the phone shut, got into Benny’s space to shove him aside and wrapped his hand around Ricky’s throat. “Where’s Hart’s boathouse?”
Ricky’s eyes were bugging out and his hand came up to claw at Cal’s arm but he managed to gag, “Boathouse?”