Relentless Pursuit (5 page)

“No, he's not dead.  But he sounded like he was in a lot of pain.  You stated that you witnessed an assailant, whom you identified as Vladimir Dubshenko, fire a gun that hit your brother in the chest.  That is what you reported, isn't it?”

“I don't have anything to say.  This has all been a mistake.  Can I go home now, detective?”  Jinx crossed her arms over her chest, and rocked in the chair before she caught the nervous movement and abruptly stopped, freezing in place.  No, she needed to leave, get Carlo away from Dubshenko and they'd disappear.  Seeing what Dubshenko was capable of, bold enough to deliver a bomb directly into the heart of the police station, they weren't safe anywhere in New Orleans.  Maybe not even in the state.  Even if they ran she knew they'd never be safe.  He'd hunt her and Carlo to the ends of the earth if it meant keeping himself out of prison.

Remy reached across and clicked off the recorder.  “Jennifer, you can't go home.  It's not safe.  I want to protect you and your brother, but I can't do that, can't do my job, unless you work with me.  Dubshenko is a monster.  I've been trying to put him away for a long time, and like the rat he is he always scurries away through the cracks.  With your eyewitness testimony and your brother's help we can arrest him, have him stand trial for attempted murder.  That will get him off the streets for a very long time.”

“You don't get it, do you?”  She shot back.  “You're right, he's a monster.  I barely know the man, yet even I sensed that.  After he shot Carlo tonight, when he realized I was going to be a problem—that I'd seen everything, he chased me.  I took off and he hunted me.”  Jinx tugged at her torn and dirty shirt.  “See this?  I crawled through bushes and mud getting away from them.  Ran through alleyways and into the woods hiding for what seemed like hours.  I have never been so scared in my life.  If he’d caught me I'd be dead right now.”  Jinx shuddered, remembering the acid in her stomach, the terror while she hid, knowing if Dubshenko or his bodyguard found her they wouldn't hesitate to execute her on the spot.

“You didn't see the look in his eyes.  The soulless, icy depths with no sane person at home.”

“That's why I have to put him away.  You and Carlo are my best shot at that.”

Jinx shook her head.  He was a cop, he didn't get it.  They never did.  “Detective, my brother was working for Dubshenko.  I didn't know it beforehand, but I heard them.  People won't believe him.  He'd be considered a bad guy, too.  He's got a record.  How much credibility do you think a jury is going to give to his story?  I'll tell you—none.  Most of the time the cops won't even listen to him.”

“I'll listen to him.”  Remy's quiet confidence washed over Jinx in a calming wave, and she wished with all her heart she could give in, trust him, but she knew better.  Cops were no friends of the Marucci family.

“Detective, I've got nothing to say, on or off the record.  This interview is over unless I'm under arrest.  In which case I want a lawyer.”

Remy stared at her long and hard, and Jinx fought not to wriggle in her seat.  He had the bad cop stare down perfect.  Trouble was, after only a couple of minutes, she knew he wasn't the bad cop.  He cared—something most police officers lost after being on the job for any length of time.

With a rough sigh, he turned the recorder back on.  “Ms. Smith, you have declined to provide any further information, is that correct?”

“That's right.”

“In lieu of Ms. Smith's refusal to answer questions this interview is concluded at 9:20 p.m., July fifteenth.”  With a flick of the buttons, he turned the recorder off, then leaned his crossed arms on the table.

“I wish I could convince you we can help.”

A hard knock pounded on the door, and Captain Hilliard stepped through.  “Interview can't possibly be finished already.”

“Ms. Smith refuses to comply with the request for an interview.”

Hilliard stared at her, and Jinx knew he was trying to figure out the best way to convince her to cooperative.  Play the victim card?  Threaten her with arrest?  Didn't matter—nothing was going to make her say anything that might implicate her brother.

“You do realize Dubshenko is a violent man?”

Jinx rolled her eyes.  Why else would she be here?  The bastard had shot her brother right in front of her.

“I'm not going to sugar coat things, Ms. Smith—or whoever you really are.  If your brother isn't already dead Dubshenko won't hesitate to kill him once he has what he wants.  We,” he motioned between him and Remy, “want to keep your brother alive.  You need to tell us exactly what Dubshenko wanted from your brother.”

“How many times do I have to tell you, I don't know!”  Jinx stood, slamming her hands down onto the table.  “He said Carlo lost his package, whatever that was, and that he had something else that Dubshenko wanted.”

“Did he ever say what it was?”  Remy asked, joining in the conversation.

“No, but it seemed really important.  Dubshenko seemed to think Carlo gave it to me.”

“Did he?”  Hilliard again.

“No.  Carlo didn't give me anything.  He was excited when he called earlier about dinner, but that's it.”

Hilliard leaned against the cement wall meeting Remy's gaze, and Jinx wanted to smack them.  That damned male-to-male communication without saying anything drove her nuts.  Her father and brothers did it too, and she wanted to pop them when they did it.

“Dubshenko's going to come after you—especially if he thinks you have something that is so vitally important he was willing to kill for it.  Plus, if something has happened to your brother you're the only witness who can tie Dubshenko to his murder.”

“Don't say that!”  Jinx pulled in a deep breath, hands shaking so much she wrapped her arms around herself to still them.  “He was still alive—you heard him.”

“Think about it, Ms. Smith.  He sounded weak and breathless, and most definitely in pain.  A gunshot wound to the chest, unless immediately treated, often proves fatal.”

Jinx bit back the sob threatening to escape.  Did they think she was stupid?  Of course she knew that.  But crossing Dubshenko meant certain death, if not now then it was only a matter of time.  She wasn't willing to risk herself or her brother to the honesty of cops.

“I need you alive and breathing until we can establish enough of a case against Dubshenko to put him away.  Your witnessing this attempted murder goes a long way toward that, but only if you're around to testify.”

“Hold it.”  Jinx interrupted.  “I didn't agree to be a witness to anything.”

Hilliard nodded toward the table where Jinx saw the wheels spinning on the tape recorder.  Damn it, lousy cops.  They'd tricked her into talking, spouting off about Carlo's shooting and Dubshenko's involvement.”

“That's not admissible.  I didn't agree to anything.”

“Not, you're right, Ms. Smith.  It's not admissible in court.  Dubshenko is an evil man.  You've been here for a long time.  Do you really think he's going to believe you didn't tell us everything?”

Jinx froze.  Dammit, he was right.  Dubshenko would never believe she hadn't willingly spilled her guts, told them everything.  She'd voluntarily come in to report Carlo's shooting.  Her shoulders slumped in defeat.

“What do you want me to do?”

Hilliard looked over at Remy.  “Detective Lamoreaux is a cop I'd trust with my life, so I'm going to trust him with yours.  Normally, we'd put you in one of our safe houses, but Dubshenko's too sharp. He'd find it in a second.  There's always a paper trail with these things, and when there's a paper trail it's easy to find out just about anything. A safe house no matter how much we'd like to think it's secure…well, let's just say if the bribe is big enough no information is secure.  Instead, we're going to put you both on the road, keep moving.”

Hilliard pulled up a chair and motioned for everyone to sit.

“Okay, here's the plan.”

Chapter Four

C
arlo knew his chances of ditching Dubshenko and his goon, who Carlo had jokingly nicknamed Bubba, were slim to none.  The gun shot earlier hurt like a son of a bitch, but hadn't done any real damage, though he'd be bruised to hell and back before the night was through.  It would all be good, though, as long as Dubshenko didn't discover he wore Kevlar and sported a blood pack he'd popped seconds after the bullet struck.

Good thing he hadn't trusted Ivor Gregorski, that dirty lousy snitch, one inch.  When he'd picked up
the package
for Dubshenko. plans to take things slow and continue investigating Dubshenko from the inside of his organization flew right out the window.  He'd contacted his superior at the Drug Enforcement Administration and they'd kick-started the timeline up a hell of a lot quicker than planned.  Hence, the bullet-proof vest firmly in place before he met with Dubshenko.

Things had gone off the rails when he'd shown up at Jinx's house earlier than scheduled.  He'd planned to meet Dubshenko tomorrow morning, giving himself enough time to get Jinx out of town before all hell broke loose.

Instead, the Russian mob boss showed up without warning.  He hadn't even had time to meet his contact, have him smuggle his baby sister out of the state.  Yeah, she'd need to be that far away to be out of reach of Dubshenko's tentacles.  Right now, nobody had a friggin' clue what was going on, or where to find the missing girl that Dubshenko kept referring to as
the package
.  Like speaking in code would keep people from realizing the package was a person, not a thing.

Dubshenko thought the package Carlo was to deliver was his golden ticket.  He had no idea Carlo had an even bigger package to deliver to the DEA.  Carlo's new package was
the key
to shutting down Dubshenko once and for all.

“Carlo, your lovely sister has caused me a great deal of trouble.  Unfortunate, indeed.  I had an interested party lined up and willing to invest a hefty fee for such quality merchandise.”  Dubshenko laughed, and it took every ounce of willpower Carlo had not to reach across the limo's seat, wrap his hands around his throat and squeeze the life out of the evil bastard.  Watch the bitterness and demonic gleam fade from Dubshenko's eyes as death swept this spawn of Satan straight into the pits of hell, from which he'd emerged.  Instead, he balled his hands into fists and held his fury contained—biding his time, waiting for the opportunity to strike.

“It sounds like Detective Lamoreaux might keep her out of your hands, Vladimir.”  Carlo infused his voice with enough scorn and derision that Dubshenko couldn't misunderstand.  He leaned back, checking out every inch of the luxurious limo.  Maybe he'd find a weapon or an escape route, whichever came first.  While he'd prefer to kill Dubshenko outright, it was more important to make sure Jinx was protected, and get his newly acquired information to his superiors.  After this SNAFU, his cover was pretty well blown sky high.  One big problem though—she didn’t know what it was or where to find it.

“You've never met Detective Lamoreaux have you, Carlo?”  Dubshenko chuckled before continuing.  “The man is a clueless idiot.  I will never understand how he earned his detective badge, unless he greased the wheels.  Of course, he is such a—what is it you Americans' call it—a boy scout—he would never do something like that.  The man has tried repeatedly to arrest me, but do you see me in his jail?  No, and you will not.”

Carlo doubted that.  He'd heard things about Lamoreaux not only on the back streets of New Orleans, but from his bosses.  Cops didn't come any cleaner than Remy Lamoreaux.  The word they'd used to describe him–incorruptible.  Guess he'd be putting his baby sister's life in Lamoreaux's hands.  He damned well better be smart enough and fast enough to protect her.

Dubshenko glanced down at the cell phone in his hand as though willing it to ring. 
Who was he expecting to call him?  More importantly, what was he waiting to hear?

He'd been pretty disoriented after the gunshot to the chest, his head bouncing on the hardwood floor of Jinx's living room when he'd fallen.  Hearing her indrawn gasp, and Bubba chasing after her, his plan to fake his death flew out the window.  Jinx's safety was his primary concern, and he'd crawled on his hands and knees toward the kitchen until his head cleared enough to chase after the two mobsters trying to kill his sister.

Luck had been on her side, and she'd escaped without injury.  Unfortunately, he hadn't been so lucky.  Bubba caught him and tossed him into the back of the idling limo and moments later Dubshenko climbed in, beads of sweat decorating his forehead, his suave appearance disappearing under the unexpected exertion of the chase.

“Expecting a call?”  Carlo couldn't hold back the taunt.

Dubshenko's lips curved into a mockery of a smile, one that didn't reach his icy blue stare.  His fingers slid across the screen of the smart phone like the caress of a lover.

“I sent a special delivery, a gesture of good will for my good friend, Detective Lamoreaux.”  He laughed and Carlo felt a chill crawl down his spine at the madness contained in Dubshenko's laughter.  “I know it was delivered.  I'm just waiting to hear how it was received.  Hopefully, your sister shared in…”

The ringing cell phone cut off his words and he answered in Russian.  Carlo's knowledge of the language was next to useless. He understood a word or two, but not enough to understand even a portion of what Dubshenko spouted. However, it was clear whatever was said on the other end did not make him happy.  In fact, just the opposite seemed true.

Dubshenko's finger hit the end call button, and with a curse he flung the phone across the limo. Its case slammed against the darkened panel that separated the passengers from the driver's section.

“Bad news?”  Carlo couldn't resist taunting him.  He leaned back against the seat crossing his arms.  Agony shot through him and he bit back an expletive as the muscles pulled, straining against his already bruising chest.

Who knew getting shot would hurt so damned much?

Dubshenko's gaze focused on him like a laser, and with a few muttered words to Bubba and a flick of his wrist in Carlo's direction, he leaned back against his seat.  Carlo never saw Bubba's fist coming from beside him, although he felt the crack against his right cheek.  His head snapped forward with the forceful blow.