G-Men: The Series (39 page)

“My dad will be here in a few, so I guess I’ll see you later?”

“I should be back here before it gets dark, Sammie. I have a few leads that Taz and I are checking out. We’ll be in Fort Wayne most of the day.”

“Okay,” I said with a sigh, “Lindsey’s birthday is tomorrow. I’ll probably be out the rest of the day shopping for her. I’ll have my cell with me.”

“Be careful,” he said, pulling me closer for a warm kiss.

“
You
be careful,” I replied, patting his ass. “By the way, when is your birthday, Slate?”

“September 3rd,” he replied with a grin.

“So you’ll be twenty-seven in September?”

He started to answer, and then his cell phone rang.

“Got to take this, babe. See you later.”

My father was pulling up the driveway when I went out onto the front porch to wait. I got into his Lincoln Town Car, looking around the neighborhood as we pulled out onto the main road. I was still in the dark as to where Slate was parking his pick-up truck.

“How’s Lindsey?” I asked.

“She seems to be doing okay. I think it’s good that she returned to work. We usually eat lunch together every day.”

“I’m glad. She needs a decent male figure in her life right now. I still can’t believe Jack deserted her without a second thought.”

The meeting with the forensic accounts and Donovan proved enlightening. It was about time some answers were forthcoming.

In a nutshell, the two former chemists at Banion had sung like birds in order to get the pending criminal charges against them reduced. They were still going to do some hard time.

Jack had enlisted their assistance in manufacturing unstamped Percocet and Vicodin tablets from the active raw materials that had falsely been written off as being disposed of by reason of expiration or scrapped due to arriving in damaged containers.

Obviously, the records had been falsified and inventory counts misrepresented over a period of time. The chemists had been receiving a nice chunk of change under the table, which likely explained those periodic miscellaneous cash withdrawals from our private account over the past year and a half.

Jack had then used the OMC as his primary marketing channel for distribution of the pills. As near as the accountants could tell, the total street value of the drugs involved over the period of time in question was approximately $1 million.

Jack, apparently, had an additional scheme going to help finance the operation. There were several different insurance claims submitted for company cars in various locations in the U.S. purportedly involved in collisions. The driver or passengers claimed medical damages and loss of income. The insurance companies had paid out on these claims; some involved Banion-owned vehicles as the claimant; other times they were the driver at fault’s vehicle.

Donovan said that several of the ‘non-Banion’ claimants were members of the OMC in Fort Wayne. One of the claimants was Susan Reynard. She’d been driving one of the Banion company cars in Charlotte, North Carolina last fall when Jack had made his weeklong trip. That claim had paid out $50,000 to her for purported lost wages. Jack had signed off on the affidavit to Motors Mutual as her direct-line supervisor, validating the lost wages.

What a total crock of shit.

There were now outstanding warrants issued against Susan for insurance fraud, mail fraud, and racketeering. She apparently had acted as the intermediary between the OMC contact in Fort Wayne and Jack.

Several pieces of the puzzle were missing, namely records and data lifted by forensic examination of Susan’s computer, which she’d attempted to wipe clean. The data pulled from the hard drive indicated that some type of deal had been underway involving the trafficking of assault weapons and cocaine. Again, the OMC was involved, but no specific names had been lifted.

My father dropped me back off at home. I immediately got into my car and headed towards the mall. The truth was, I didn’t like being in my own house these days if Slate wasn’t there. I was totally creeped out.

I spent the afternoon shopping, then stopped by Becky’s house to give her the update on everything. I was home sitting out on the back deck sipping iced tea when Slate arrived. He’d come around from the side of the house, as if looking for me.

“Hey you,” he said, coming up onto the deck. “I’ve been looking for you inside.”

“I don’t like being in there without you being with me,” I said with a shrug. I knew it sounded ‘needy’ but it was the truth.

He pulled me up from my chair, wrapping his strong arms around me. He was comforting me. He’d been doing a lot of that lately.

“Let’s go inside,” he said softly. “I’ve checked everything, including the camera recordings. No one’s been poking around at all.”

“How long have you been here?”

“About an hour.”

I hadn’t heard him come in, but then I usually didn’t. He was my ‘Slate-ninja.’

We spent the rest of the evening talking about what I’d learned at the meeting this morning. I wrapped Lindsey’s presents, while Slate pondered something. He’d become unusually quiet.

“How did things go in Fort Wayne?” I asked.

“Fine.”

“That’s it? Just fine?”

“Sammie,” he used his warning tone with me.

I hated that he constantly kept me in the dark. If I learned anything, I had to hear it from Donovan. I was sure Slate already knew all about the findings that were discussed in this morning’s meeting. He was such a stickler for protocol.

“Never mind,” I said, getting up and heading towards the stairs.

“Where are you going?”

“To get a shower and then go to bed.”

“Don’t be pissed, babe. You know the routine by now.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” I grumbled.

I showered, and then dressed in a light nightie, crawling beneath the covers. I was exhausted. The heat and humidity of late July seemed to suck my energy. The house was cool with the air conditioning going, but I looked forward to the fall every year by the first of August.

I felt Slate crawl into bed beside me some time later. I was still a bit miffed that he couldn’t share anything with me. I knew that I could be trusted. Why didn’t he?

He pulled me against him, circling an arm around me. I felt him kiss my hair, his fingers combing through my still-damp locks. I pretended to be asleep. If he knew I was awake, he would likely want to fuck and tonight I was just too tired.

I felt his hand lifting my hair up away from my neck. I felt him nuzzle his face against it, pressing warm, soft kisses on my skin. God, that felt so good. His hand settled on the swell of my belly. I was nearly five months pregnant. The baby’s movements were getting stronger.

Slate kissed the back of my neck again. His hand gently rubbed my baby bump. Ever so softly, I heard him whisper, “I love you.”

^{chapter 51}

It was the third week of August. God, I was so ready for summer to be over. The only bad part about fall was that Lindsey would be leaving to go back to Cornell.

She’d been staying with my parents, and, apparently, she had met a nice, young man at the swimming pool where they lived. I’d met him briefly at her birthday celebration. His name was Adam. He was a sophomore at Indiana University and as cute as could be. I could see that Lindsey was smitten. She was in no hurry to come back home.

I was sitting at the kitchen counter going over bills when I saw one addressed to Jack. On the outside of the envelope it was stamped ‘Past Due’ in red. The return address was a storage rental facility in Fort Wayne.

I slit the envelope open and pulled the piece of paper out. It was a letter basically stating that the checking account that had been used for automatic payments had insufficient funds. As co-signer for Susan Reynard, the responsibility for payment was being transferred to Jack.

What the hell?

The bill was for a refrigerated unit. July’s balance (which had been due on the 15th) was past due; the charges for August were due now. The total amount due with late charges was $365. Evidently Susan had cleared out her account as well, when they fled.

I looked at my watch. Shit! I was going to be late for my appointment with Dr. Bailey if I didn’t get a move on it.

Slate had left early. He said he’d do everything in his power to meet me at Dr. Bailey’s. I made him promise not to embarrass me this time.

I set the alarm and locked up. It was a twenty-five minute drive to the doctor’s office. If I didn’t run into major traffic, I would make it.

I was five minutes into the drive on the county road leading to the interstate when I saw Slate’s black pick-up suddenly on my bumper when I glanced in the side mirror. He was flashing his lights on and off, waving me over.

What the hell is going on now?

I pulled over to the side of the road. The front bumper of his truck had to be practically touching the back bumper of my Mercedes. I hit the button to lower my window as he came rushing up to the driver’s side. Too late, I realized it wasn’t Slate; it was Slash.

Panic set in immediately as I tried to power the window back up. Too late! My door flew open and Slash pulled me roughly from the car.

“Come on, bitch,” he sneered. “You and I are taking a ride. We have some things to discuss.”

Someone else had jumped from Slate’s truck and was now in the back seat of my car. Slash opened the rear passenger door on the driver’s side and pushed me in, slamming the door quickly and jumping into the driver’s seat.

He peeled back out onto the road as the passenger in the seat beside me gave a toothless grin. He nodded toward his hand. My eyes followed as I saw what he wanted me to see: a revolver pointed directly at my baby bump.

“Hey, sorry for not making the proper introductions back there,” Slash yelled from the front seat.

“Darrell, this here’s Diamond, Mr. Big’s old lady.”

“Is that right?” Darrell said with a cocky smirk, his eyes boring into me. “You mean Slate’s
whore
?”

“Yeah, that too,” Slash replied. “She’s gonna be helping us out today if she has plans on seeing tomorrow.”

Somewhere, and I’m not sure where, I suddenly was filled with rage and fury. How dare they kidnap and threaten me? How dare that asshole point that gun towards my baby? I lashed out.

“You motherfuckers better not lay one finger on me. I swear on all that’s precious, you’re dead fucking meat!”

Somehow, I hadn’t managed to pull it off. I felt the butt of Darrell’s gun slam against the side of my head. Everything went black.

^{chapter 52}

When my eyes finally opened, they opened to darkness. I knew that it wasn’t nighttime yet because, wherever I was, there was still sunlight streaming in through the cracks in the wooden planks. It looked to be some kind of a barn. It was hot, sticky and the air was thick with humidity.

My head was pounding. I felt beads of perspiration trickling down my face and back. My hair was damp, clinging to the back of my neck. I would have given anything for a cool breeze at the moment. My hands were tied behind my back; my ankles were tied together. The rough rope was digging into the skin on my wrists and ankles.

I looked around, my eyes adjusting to the darkness within. I saw my Mercedes parked over in front of a wide sliding barn door that was shut at the moment. My captors were nowhere around. I needed to clear my head, to think survival. That’s what Slate would tell me to do.

I suddenly became emotional. Would I ever see Slate again? Or Lindsey? Or my parents? What did these bastards have planned? How was it I was expected to help them? Did anyone even know that I was missing yet? I had way more questions that I had answers. The sound of a squeaky door opening and the light that filtered in with it told me that I was about to get a few answers.

Slash and Darrell sauntered over to where I was sitting on a pile of straw in front of a long wooden crate of some sort. They took a seat on the crate, drinking from their water bottles. It reminded me of how thirsty I was.

“Well, what do you think, Darrell? You think Diamond there has been hog-tied and left in this sauna long enough she might be a bit more cooperative with us?”