Dirty Money (25 page)

“Wait, who killed who?” Like she didn’t know.

“Christopher killed their dad. He said Carissa’s father made him do it, but he was obviously lying. And then he killed Esau. And that was it.” I stood. “I don’t think I want to talk anymore.”

“That’s fine.” Madge squeezed my hand once more. “Do you need anything?”

“No. I think I’m gonna jump in the shower. Maybe I’ll go out today.”

“Of course. I’m sure you’ll want to be out tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“Yes, it’s New Year’s Eve.”

“Oh, shit.”

Madge smiled a little. “You didn’t know?”

“I spent Christmas morning digging graves. And that night scrubbing blood. The holidays this year are a little lacking.”

“I see. Well, Vito will arrange for a driver. You will be safer that way. And if there are any clubs you want to go to just let us know. Vito will be able to get you in.”

“Right. Thanks.”

She wasn’t lying. Vito got my name on half the clubs in the city. I didn’t go to any of them. They were all straight. Boring. I went to Boystown. Found a bar. Watched the pretty people. Drank in the New Year.

I missed Reese and Ryan.

*

“I’d like you to come somewhere with me.” It was a week later. Vito had found me in his library.

“’Kay.” I set down my book.

“Get dressed. We leave in fifteen.”

I glanced down at myself. Jeans. Sweatshirt. Chucks. “I am dressed.”

“You’re going to meet the don.”

“Right. So monkey suit?”

“It’s that or a skirt.” I felt my face scrunch up in disgust. He started laughing. “I thought as much. Fifteen minutes.”

I went with a suit two shades lighter than charcoal. The tie and pocket square were red. A nod to my Victorian homies. I kept the Chucks. Mostly ’cause they were my only pair of shoes.

The warehouse Vito took me to looked very much un-don like. Painted over, broken out windows. Only one functioning streetlamp in the parking lot. Pretty cliché really.

“This is where the don wants to meet me?”

“Yes, but there’s someone else first.”

“Dude, are you gonna kill me? ’Cause that would blow.” Seriously. It would blow.

“What is with you and the paranoia?” he asked.

“Huh?”

“Alex said you asked her the same question.”

“Yeah, well. You guys are organized crime and all that.”

“We don’t just go around killing people all the time. And why would we kill you?”

“I don’t know. That’s what they do in the movies.” Vito cuffed me on the head. Lightly. But still. “Oww.”

“If I’m going to kill you, you’ll know.”

“Okay.”

“Now, there’s something I need your help with. Normally, I would call Esau, but…”

“You want me to kill someone?” Fuck that.

“No. I just need information. I thought you might facilitate that exchange.”

“Fuck you.”

“Cooper.”

“Fine.” Not like I had a choice.

“I’ll ask questions. You motivate him to answer.”

“You suck.” He did. I was so over this shit.

“And the don will be here shortly.”

“So we’re on a time crunch?”

“Yes.”

“Neat.”

We got out of the car.

“Do you need hardware?”

“It would be helpful. Beating people into submission isn’t exactly a favored pastime. So I don’t carry the accoutrements.”

Vito gave me the middle-aged, straight male version of an eye roll. It was mostly a fed-up smirk with a little eyebrow lift. He opened the trunk. In one of the side compartments there were a small Sig and a couple knives.

“Take your pick.”

“One of each, please.” I used my best housewife at Macy’s voice and got another weird smirk thing. “Do you have any knives that aren’t serrated? Those are too messy.”

He handed me the Sig and a five-inch knife with a matte black handle. I flicked open the knife. It was decent.

“Do you carry anything in a rubber grip?” Still using the annoying voice. “I just hate when the blood makes my hand slip.”

“No.”

“This will do then.” He cuffed my head again. “Asshole.”

“Follow me.” I did. A flight of stairs just inside the door blocked most of the warehouse from view. A small table and chair were crammed into the space. We went up the stairs. There was a landing with a waist high barrier and an office. I looked in the window, but it was dark.

Vito opened the door and flipped a switch. A bare bulb lit a weak circle of light in the office.

Ryan was tied to a chair in the center of the room. He was blindfolded.

Everything went Technicolor. I didn’t even know until right then that it had all been gray masquerading as black and white.

I took the safety off my gun. Vito walked in ahead of me. Ryan raised his head at the noise.

I took out my knife, flipped it open. Vito stopped in front of Ryan. Took his blindfold off. Ryan looked up and locked eyes with me. He didn’t blink. Didn’t move. Just watched me. I continued in a circle around them. Behind Ryan, around Vito. Behind Ryan again, where I pulled my Sig, trained it on Vito, and dropped to my knees. I started sawing through the ties on Ryan’s wrists left-handed. I should have gone with the serrated knife.

“Oh, Cooper,” Vito said. He was genuinely disappointed. Good. Maybe that misguided emotional connection would keep me and Ryan safe.

My hands were shaking. I nicked Ryan’s palm.

“Is this your choice?” Vito asked.

“I gave you loyalty,” I said. “But you always knew he would come first.”

There was a noise behind me. I barely registered it, started to turn, when my world went black.

“Coop. Damn it, Coop. Wake up.” There was something hard poking me in the ribs. It felt less than fantastic. I groaned. “Are you awake? Please wake the fuck up. Please don’t be dead.”

“I feel kinda dead.”

“Oh, shit. Thank God.”

“My head feels like it’s gonna fall off.” Actually, it felt like something had crawled in the back of my skull and was burrowing out through my eyes.

“Yeah, they hit you pretty hard. You were just laying there bleeding forever.” Ryan sniffled a little. “I thought you were dead.”

“You sure we’re alive?” I opened my eyes. It was dark. “I can’t see anything.” I tried to roll onto my back, but my hands were tied together behind me. So that didn’t work too good.

“Your eyes’ll adjust.”

“I missed you so fuckin’ bad.”

“Me too, bro. I’m so sorry.”

“No apologies. Not right now at least. Where are you? I still can’t see shit.”

“I’m here.” He poked me in the ribs with his shoe again. “Still in the chair.”

“This blows.” I tried to sit up. It took like two minutes. “How long was I out for?”

“No idea. Couple minutes. Forever. There are a bunch of people down there now.”

“Awesome. Any ideas how to get out of here?” I asked. My eyes were starting to adjust. There was a little light filtering through the blinds and the dirty window.

“I got nothing.”

“Can you move your hands?”

“A little. They doubled up my zip ties. My hands feel kinda tingly,” he said.

“Good enough. I have a money clip in my jacket pocket. It’s got a little pocket knife on it.” If they hadn’t taken it.

“I love you.”

“I know,” I said.

“Scoot around to where my hands are.”

I tried. It was hard. In movies and shit, when people are all tied up, I’m always thinking they’re being pansies when they can’t move. But no. It’s fucking hard. Like you have no balance. Which I found out when I fell and couldn’t catch myself. My shoulder hit the ground with a dull, painful thud.

“Did you just fall over?” Ryan asked.

“Yes, asshole. It hurt.” Somehow, I managed to sit back up. It only took a minute and a half that time.

“Stop dicking around.”

“This isn’t easy.”

“Sorry.”

“Ryan?”

“Yeah.”

“Where’s Reese?” He didn’t answer right away. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.” Except it did.

“No, it’s just…I don’t know.”

I stopped moving. “Shit. I thought you guys were together.”

“We are. We were. But if one of us got caught the other was supposed to get their ass gone.”

“So she could be in Peru by now.” If we were lucky.

“She could be.”

“But she’s probably taking someone hostage instead.”

“Probably.” He laughed.

“Damn that girl.” I laughed too. It wasn’t funny.

“Seriously. We obviously have this under control.”

“Obviously,” I repeated.

Liars. We were both liars.

My shoulder bumped his hands.

“Can you get on your knees or something?”

“I doubt it.” I scooted backward some more. His fingers trailed over my lapel.

“Closer,” he said.

“Can you stretch down?”

“Not really.”

I straightened as much as I could.

“The pocket inside my jacket.” His hands were on my chest now. “Stop feeling me up.”

“Get over yourself. If I wanted to cop a feel, I would have done it years ago.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Oh, shit. I got the pocket.” He was right. His fingertips were at the pocket. “Almost. I almost got it. I can feel the money.”

I shrugged my shoulders up. “Can you get it now?”

“Yes!” He started working the money up and out of the pocket. “Drop down a little.” I did. The cash came out of my pocket. “I got it. I got it.”

“’Kay. Can you get the money out?”

“Maybe. Sorta.”

“That’s descriptive.”

“I got it.” Paper fluttered down into my lap.

“Can you open the knife? Do you want to drop it into my hands?”

“I think I got it. If it falls, then it’s up to you.”

“Cool.”

“Jesus, Coop. Could this thing be any duller?”

“Is duller a word?”

“I don’t fuckin’ know. But that’s what it is. Duller. And shit.” I loved how smart Ryan sounded all the time.

“Sorry,” I scoffed. “It’s vintage. I didn’t know I needed to sharpen it.”

“Why do you have a vintage money clip?”

“It reminded me of you, douche bag.” It did. He always had vintage accessories. His cigarette case for joints, his little silver lighter. And a collection of tie clips that required a jewelry case.

“Oh.”

“I told you I missed you.”

“Oh, holy fuck.” Something landed in my lap.

“What?”

“My hands. I can feel them.”

“You got it?”

“I fuckin’ got it.”

“You are a mother fucking badass.”

“I know. Scoot back around so I can do your hands.”

“Do your feet first. Then get me.”

“Are you—”

“Just do it. I wanna get the fuck outta here.”

“Yes, sir,” Ryan said. It didn’t take him long to cut his feet free. And then he got up, stretched, and started to cut me loose. He was right. I should have sharpened the knife. When I was free, he tackled me back to the floor.

“Dude, let me up.”

“Nope.” He squeezed me. “I’m never letting you go again.”

“Well, maybe we could just hold hands. Then we’ll be able to get shit done.”

“I’m holding you to that.” Ryan climbed off me. He pulled me to my feet, but didn’t let go of my hand when I was standing.

“You’re such a girl.”

“I’m comfortable with my masculinity.” He sniffed like he was hurt. He wasn’t.

“I do appreciate that about you.” I bent back down to pick up the money we’d dropped. We might need that. Instead, my head started spinning and I fell over again. “Shit.”

“Did you just fall over again?”

“Fuck you.” I felt the back of my head. Carefully. It was matted with drying blood. Chunks of bloody hair clung to my fingers. Gross. “Pick up the cash for me.”

“Are you okay?” I heard the rustle of paper as he picked up the cash.

“The back of my head is bleeding and everything is all spinning and shit. I think. It’s hard to tell ’cause it’s dark. But, yeah, I’m fantastic.”

“Come on.” Ryan dragged me to my feet. “Let’s get out of here.” He pulled me to the window. We peered out through the blinds.

“Can you see anything?” he asked.

“No. You?”

“No.”

I went to the door. It was unlocked. Vito was pretty sure of himself.

“Be quiet, okay?” Ryan nodded. “We’re going to be quiet and then we’re gonna run like fucking hell.” More nodding.

The plan was good in theory. We opened the door and slid out. I didn’t even look below. We just crouched down so they couldn’t see us. I pulled the door shut behind me. It made a little noise, but some people downstairs were shouting so I was pretty sure no one heard. Below us, a guy sat in the chair I’d passed on the way in. We were halfway down when we heard her.

“Where are they?” Reese shouted.

“I told you, honey. We don’t know.” Vito. Liar, liar, pants on fire.

“Yes, you do.”

Ryan looked at me, his eyes wide and gray. I shrugged. Reese just had to be our knight in shining armor. Not that I was complaining. It hadn’t escaped me that she was looking for me too. Just thinking about it made my head spin. Or was that the concussion?

I continued down the stairs in an awkward crouch. We tried to be quiet, but the stairs were probably older than us, and upkeep was clearly not a priority. No one on the floor seemed to hear the creaking of the stairs. They just kept shouting at each other. But the guy at the bottom had to hear. He gave no sign of it. When we got closer, I realized why. The dumbass was listening to his iPod. Vito was going to kill him. Literally.

I pointed to Ryan and then pointed to his hands. Ryan nodded. Then I pointed to me and covered my mouth. We were so good at hand signals. At the bottom of the stairs, we moved fast. Just like I planned. Ryan grabbed Dude’s hands. I covered his mouth. He tried to jump up out of his chair, but Ryan pulled down hard on his hands so he couldn’t move. I cradled his head in my arm so he couldn’t jerk away and start shouting. Then I yanked out his headphones and wrapped them around his wrists. Ryan let go with one hand so he could feel the dude up. He found a knife. He pressed it against the guy’s throat.

“You can stay here,” Ryan whispered in his ear. “And they’ll probably kill you. Or you can run and you’ll have thirty minutes head start.”