Poughkeepsie (45 page)

“So which of you cum cowboys called this little meeting? Whose dick is so infinitesimally small that he had to gather a huge posse to put one bullet in my brain?” Beckett rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet.

He’d thrown down the gauntlet, and due to his wording no one really wanted to pick it up.

Finally, Craig cleared his throat and spoke. “I brought you here, Mr. Taylor. We have business dealings.”

Beckett landed his jovial smile on the speaker. “And you are?”

“Craig Ledert. I own the property around your building. You’ve been thwarting my efforts to develop my real estate.” Craig straightened his back like there was a rod in his ass.

“Back the truck the fuck up,” Beckett said, shaking his head. “You’re, like, a real estate agent? You wimpy-ass ball nibbler. Seriously? You kidnap people? Did you ever think of taking out an ad? This is the crappiest way to build a business I’ve ever seen. Then again, if you’re ignorant enough to pay money for a roach-infested nightmare in my part of town, you might also think you stand a chance in hell of living through this night.” Beckett had inched closer to Cole during his tirade.

He’d left Eve’s motorcycle angled toward the road. As soon as Cole was free, he could fire it up and get the hell out of here. His brother
had
to leave.

The men tensed and seemed to wait for a signal. Craig looked at Beckett and swallowed.

“You can say I’m idiotic, but me and your man here will improve the community for the better.” Craig motioned to Merkin, who miraculously freed himself from his loose bindings.

Beckett was about to tear into Craig again when a dull pop sounded and a red dot appeared in the center of the man’s forehead. Another pop and Merkin’s forehead had a matching dot. They hit the ground like collapsing dominoes in perfect synchronicity.

Beckett wasted no time in dragging his brother to him and pulling a knife from his waistband. He slashed at Cole’s ropes. “Take the bike and go!” he yelled.

Eve was jacking shit up, changing the plans. The remaining men seemed to be listening to their earpieces with their guns trained on the two brothers.

“Go!” Beckett didn’t care why the men were slow to kill. He wanted his brother gone.

Cole ripped the tape off his mouth and spit out a wad of gauze. “I’m not leaving you here. I’m not.” His voice was raspy and angry.

“Kyle’s okay,” Beckett countered.

He fully expected a bullet to find his head at any moment, and he wanted his brother to know his lady was safe. At least he could give him that. The men lowered their weapons a fraction and gave Beckett a thumbs up.
What the fuck?

“Is what she’s saying true?” asked the taller of the two.

“Absolutely. You have my word,” Beckett said seriously.
About what, I have not a twat’s clue.

Eve walked out from around the warehouse with Beckett’s envelope from the bank. She had her leather jacket buttoned up and a high-powered sniper rifle slung over her shoulder. She gave each man a wad of cash.

“Like I already arranged with your pal—” Eve tapped her earpiece as proof of the dead man’s compliance “—if you don’t kill us now, we’ll use you in the future. Beckett keeps his employees well-paid.”

They nodded and started packing up their gear.

Fucking genius. Pay the paid men. Of course.

The other rooftop sniper stood and collapsed his gun support.

Beckett sidled up to Eve. “Hey, gorgeous. This wasn’t the plan.”

Eve ignored him and spoke to the wirelessly listening mercenaries. “Yup, come on down and you’ll get your share.”

Eve turned to the brothers and gathered them in an uncharacteristic hug. Then she slid a handgun to Beckett and passed another to Cole. She covered the speaker on the wire and murmured in their ears. “This is all going to hit the fan when they find out I killed the other two in their group. Be ready.”

The three turned around and made a triangle, shoulders touching, as they faced the mercenaries and waited. When the remaining men failed to make contact with Alphas One and Four, they suddenly scrambled for their guns.

Eve put her hand on her earpiece and spoke over her shoulder. “I’ll get the roof. NOW!”

The remaining mercenaries turned their guns on the three, but the triangle of family was faster and ready. Cole’s bullet hit the taller mercenary in the head. Eve’s ludicrous rifle blew out the rooftop man’s vulnerable neck as he tried to rearm himself. He fell off the building in spectacular fashion like a stunt man in an action movie. Only there was no cushion to prevent the crunching noise his body made on the pavement. Beckett riddled the shorter one with a pistol full of bullets. Start to finish, this crazy mercenary ambush had lasted less than thirty minutes.

“There were eight,” Cole said in the silence of the stilled guns. “They sent three to follow Mouse so they could grab Blake. How many dead, Eve?”

“Five here.” Eve knelt by the nearest dead man to ransack his pockets.

Beckett turned to his brother. “Cole, take the bike and go to Kyle in the hospital. You need to be with her. Keep an eye on Livia too.”

Cole held his arm out. “I want to help you make sure Blake’s okay.”

Beckett wrapped his arm around the one Cole offered him. “Bro, go to Kyle. Stay out of this next fight. I won’t be able to deal with you behind me and Blake in front of me. You can’t ask me to decide which one of you to defend first. Please, Cole. Give me peace of mind.”

Now sitting on the ground, Eve scrolled through a complicated-looking communication device.

Cole leaned in for a back-pounding and murmured in Beckett’s ear. “Blake and I need you alive too. Don’t forget that.”

Beckett inclined his head toward the motorcycle. Cole lifted it and revved the motor to life. He stuck the handgun Eve had passed him into his waistband.

“I’ll pray for you.” Cole said. Then he set the motorcycle in the direction of the hospital.

Beckett watched him leave. At least one was safe now. Cole had been his biggest concern—kidnapped, for Christ’s sake. But now Blake and Mouse moved to the forefront. He wanted three miracles tonight. It was the prayer of a devil. How dare he even ask? But Beckett had no shame. The thought of Blake walking around with a trail of trained killers behind him stopped his heart. He had to give Mouse some backup. Eve was mumbling. He turned to listen.

“According to their last communication, they found Mouse and they’re tracking the hearse.” Eve looked at Beckett’s phone. “Mouse’s last text said he’s almost to the train station.”

“Text Mouse and tell him how many guys to look out for.” Beckett stomped over to try to make sense of the gadget in Eve’s hands.

“I did. I’m waiting for a reply. Let’s roll out.” Beckett and Eve quick-marched the distance out to the Hummer, and the engine rumbled to life in the stillness of the night.

As he drove, Beckett’s eyes found the beautiful, fierce soul next to him. She bit her lip and watched his face like it was a TV.

Beckett curled his lip into a sneer.
Thank the fuck outta you,
he told her silently.

Eve’s eyebrow rose in return.
You’re welcome.

“Baby, I want to take you far from here. I’m going to take you where the water’s as blue as your fucking eyes.” Beckett leaned in for a tender kiss, with one eye on the road. “I’m going to take you there as soon as this is over.”

Eve grabbed the roll bar as Beckett accelerated like a mad man. A lot had to go wrong for this evening to turn out right.

37

Patterns End

M
OUSE
H
AD
B
EEN
T
HROUGH
a bunch of shit with Beckett, but tonight felt all wrong. This was different. Their control had finally slipped.

As he drove like a maniac toward the train station, Mouse tried to plan a strategy. As soon as he had Blake, he’d take him to the outskirts of town. Mouse desperately wanted to be at Beckett’s side during this uncertainty, but he’d never stray from a command. At least Beckett had Eve. Mouse adored Eve. If he could admit it to himself, he had a bit of a crush on her. But he never would—that would feel traitorous. He would
never
be that.
Fucking Merkin.

He approached the train station parking lot just as a police car came blazing in with its lights on. Mouse changed his path and pulled alongside the woods near the platform. The cops grabbing Blake right now might be the best thing. Maybe Livia’s dad had sent a cruiser.

Mouse tiptoed to a place where he could see the platform. The police lights pierced the night and made it hard to focus on the form running up the stairs.
Is that Livia?
There was clearly no Blake here, and the person who now definitely seemed to be Livia reached the cruiser and killed the lights for a moment. Mouse stepped out from the cover of the trees and jogged toward her.
What the hell is she doing here? Did she steal her dad’s car?

He was almost to the steps when he started shouting. “Livia! Wait, Livia!” She ignored him and climbed back into the car. She hit the gas and the cruiser jumped off the curb by the staircase.

Crap.
Mouse double-timed it back to his car and slid into the driver’s seat. He’d assumed she was headed for the main road and overshot the parking lot. But then he saw her car again, the white of the police cruiser almost glowed in the dark.
Why the hell is she parked there?

Mouse dialed Livia’s number, but immediately got her voicemail.
What the fuck?
He stashed the hearse near the abandoned police cruiser at Firefly Park. He pulled his Glock from the glove box, and when he cut the lights, he noticed a glow coming from the center of the woods. He slammed his car door shut. Thoroughly confused, Mouse reached for his phone in his grandmother’s bag. As he retrieved it from the tangle of yarn and knitting needles, he heard a rush of air and footsteps that were a whole lot closer than they should be before he’d even seen the men.

On pure adrenaline Mouse sprinted in a zig-zag pattern for the treeline. He found a thick tree and used it as cover. The pine needles that carpeted the ground softened the sounds of the feet headed his way. He tried to concentrate on how many.
One, now two. Two to deal with
. Was this part of the group moving against Beckett?

He took a quick peek, but the woods were too dark. The men were professionals. They moved sporadically, not making their path obvious. Everyone seemed headed for the fire. Mouse moved as quietly as he could and slid his cell phone back into Meemaw’s bag. They might be tracking his phone. It vibrated, like an angry bee, just before he let go of it. Mouse looked at the screen:

We killed 5. 3 on ur tail. Pros. Kevlar vests n helmets.
Cole and Beckett safe ~Eve

There could be one more than he’d thought. Mouse slid the phone between two skeins of yarn. His hand grazed one of his wickedly sharp, double-pointed metal knitting needles. Using an old Tom-and-Jerry-style trick, he threw the needle as far away as he could. It made an impressive clatter in the quiet night. He saw one of the men step out of the darkness next to his cover tree and motion to those behind him to head in the direction of the sound.

He was extra thankful for Eve’s text. In the dim light Mouse would have gone for a head shot, but now he settled his aim on the side of the mercenary’s neck. The Glock seemed loud, even with the silencer, and the man dropped before the noise had finished repeating in the dark.

Mouse’s tree immediately lit up with automatic gunfire. A bullet pierced his upper arm, and his own shout of pain was louder than the gunfire. These bastards had silencers too. Mouse made sure his Glock was in ready position. He had to take a chance to get the two remaining men. He waited for a break in the gunfire and did a forward-roll out from behind the tree. His maneuver gave him a perfect shot at mercenary number two.

Mouse aimed for the belt and hit the man just below his navel. Another quick pop and the man was hit in the thigh as well. Mouse hoped he’d ruptured the femoral artery. The man would bleed out from the gut shot and leg wound within seconds.

The third mercenary was well-hidden and had fabulous aim. First, he hit Mouse’s hand, blowing the gun from his grip. Next Mouse felt his center invaded by metal. His lungs felt like raisins as he tried to remain standing. Gravity pulled him down. The landing jarred his back, and his legs felt bent in the wrong direction.

The third mercenary came to stand above him. “Tell me where the homeless one is, and I’ll just kill you. Don’t tell me, and I’ll figure out how to skin you with my pocketknife.”

The voice had a hint of an accent Mouse had difficulty placing. Mouse’s breathing was shallow and his brain seemed not to fit in his skull. Pain brought sound from his body even as he willed himself to be quiet. He knew now that he was going to die. But he had one last mission from Beckett.
I have to finish this.
Mouse took quick stock of what parts of him still worked. He could move one of his hands, and one eye seemed good. The other was open, he was pretty sure, but it saw nothing.