Secrets That Kill (2 page)

He stuffed them all in a backpack, then disappeared into a bedroom. A few minutes later, I heard water running in the bathroom. Was he taking a shower? I thought we were in a hurry here.

While waiting, I took out my phone and contemplated calling Chris to tell him what had happened. I pursed my lips and put the phone away, knowing that calling him would just make him more worried about me, especially when there was nothing he could do about it. I’d call if I really needed him to know what was happening and not a moment before. Besides, everything could still work out, right? I had plenty of time to get to the airport, and Warren was afraid of Uncle Joey, so he’d make sure nothing happened to me.

Even with those reassuring thoughts, my stomach clenched, and a sense of impending disaster came over me. Suddenly weak-kneed, I plopped down on the couch and tried to get a handle on my nerves. Uncle Joey’s letter to Warren was lying on the coffee table in front of me, so I snatched it up. With my name in it, my instincts to protect myself kicked in, and I quickly stuffed it back into my bag.

I started guiltily as Warren came out, but he didn’t glance in my direction and missed it. He looked so different, I hardly recognized him. He had shaved off his beard and clipped his hair short. His glasses were gone too, and he was dressed in tan slacks and a white polo shirt. He carried a nice leather bag that I figured contained his clothes and personal items along with the backpack.

“Okay, I’m ready,” he said. “Let’s go.”

Relieved, I stood and followed him to the door. He unlocked it, but hesitated, and turned back to me. “Stay here while I take a quick look around.” At my nod, he pulled the door open and moved to the stairs, cautiously peeking over the concrete wall to the street. “Shit!” He rushed back inside and locked the doors. “They’re here. We’ll have to go out the back way.”

My heart started to race. This was bad. What had I gotten myself into? I followed Warren to the bathroom where he immediately pried open the window and pushed out the screen. He threw his bags out onto the concrete, then beckoned to me for my bag. After it disappeared, he helped me climb onto the toilet seat and outside. It was a short drop from the window, but somehow, I managed to fall on my butt. I quickly got up, dusting off my hands and moved out of the way, grateful I’d worn my jeans and running shoes. At least I had that much going for me. I reached for my bag and quickly slung it across my shoulder.

Warren dropped down just as a loud banging sounded from the front door, and I heard someone yelling a command to go around to the back. Warren grabbed my wrist, and we ran across the parking spaces to an alley where a black Mustang was parked out of sight. Warren popped the trunk open, and we threw in our stuff and jumped into the car.

I had barely closed the door when Warren put the car in first gear and peeled out. The alleyway turned into another parking lot, and Warren made a hard right, the back tires skidding on the pavement. I cringed, hoping no one was coming our way, and grabbed the seatbelt. I clicked it in place and glanced up to find the lane coming to an end.

Warren pushed on the brakes and deftly pulled between two parked cars, continuing to the turnout leading onto the street. He glanced both ways before taking a left and pulling into traffic.

He let out a breath, thinking that was close, but we’d made it out. Good thing he’d been ready to leave in a hurry. He glanced at me, noticing my hands braced against the dashboard. “Are you okay?”

“Sure,” I answered, tucking my hands into my lap. I didn’t want him to see how shaky they were. “Where are we going?”

“I’ve got to pick up the… item Manetto wants. Then I’ll take you to the airport.” He was thinking he would probably just drop me off somewhere and let me catch a cab. He’d paid for my cab fare to his house, so I should be good for it. Besides, Carson would probably be watching for his car at the airport, and taking a cab would be better for both of us.

If he hadn’t thought that last part, I would have been mad at him. But his reasoning made sense, and I was more than happy to leave him behind. “So who’s this Carson person?” As soon as it was out of my mouth I realized he’d never said the guy’s name out loud. Damn! Why did I do that?

Warren looked at me, his eyes round with horror. “How did you know? Did Manetto tell you? Does he know anything else?”

“Manetto doesn’t know anything,” I assured him. “Earlier, you said something about Carson’s goons, and hoped they hadn’t spotted me or the yellow cab. I’m assuming that’s who was after us, and I was curious, but hey, you don’t have to tell me anything. I was just trying to start a conversation. That’s all.”

He remembered thinking exactly that, but he could swear he’d never said it out loud. But he must have if I’d heard it. He’d better come up with something, as long as it wasn’t the truth. “He’s just some guy who thinks I owe him some money. No big deal.”

“Okay,” I said.

When I didn’t pursue it, Warren relaxed. He was thinking that Manetto never needed to know he had used the information he’d gathered for him to blackmail Carson himself. Although Carson had no idea how much information Warren really had on the thumb-drive, his threats were enough to put him on Carson’s hit list. With them watching, and me showing up, it had to have been the incentive they needed to take him out. Probably not the smartest thing he’d ever done, but he needed the cash to disappear. Too bad Carson had decided he wouldn’t take it anymore. With both Carson and Manetto on his tail, he couldn’t get out of town fast enough.

I could hardly believe it. This guy was nuts. Trying to pull something over on Uncle Joey was bad enough, but using his information to blackmail someone else was even worse. Plus, from Warren’s thoughts, I knew this Carson person was all kinds of bad. I needed to get away from Warren as fast as I could. I didn’t care about the thumb-drive. It wasn’t worth my life.

“I’ve changed my mind,” I blurted. “Why don’t you just let me out, and I’ll take a cab to the airport. You can figure out how to get the… um… whatever it is Uncle Joey wants without me.”

Warren’s brows drew together in confusion. Why was I changing my mind? “Wait. No, you have to help me.”

“I’d really rather not,” I said. Warren wasn’t buying it, so I played my trump card. “Besides, I don’t think that’s what Uncle Joey had in mind when he had me deliver the letter. You don’t want to upset my Uncle now, do you?”

“Um… of course not.” His face paled as he realized that I’d called Manetto my Uncle several times and he’d missed it. “But, please… don’t bail on me now. I promise… I won’t let anything happen to you.”

I sighed. He wasn’t making this any easier, and his desperation was heartfelt. He really needed me to do this. Argh! I hated being in this situation.

“We’re almost there,” he continued, sensing that his pleas were getting to me. “All I need to do is get the thumb-drive and give it to you. It won’t take more than a minute. Then you can jump in a cab, and that will be the last you’ll see of me.”

“Where is it? Where are we going?”

“To a restaurant where I used to work. I hid the thumb-drive there. It’s about five minutes away. You can even wait in the car if you want.”

“No,” I said forcefully. “I don’t want to wait in the car.”

“That’s okay. You can come in. I’ll even buy you a drink and give you some money for the cab fare if that will help.”

I let out a breath. “All right,” I said, exasperated. “I’ll do it, but you don’t have to buy me a drink, and I still have some money left over from the first cab fare, so I’m good.”

He sighed, relieved that I’d agreed. “You’ll be safe, I promise.” He was thinking he’d do whatever it took to get me back to Manetto in one piece, mostly because he didn’t want Manetto to send Ramos after him. He knew how that would end. A picture of Ramos holding a gun to his head and slowly pulling the trigger came to his mind. He blinked, shaking his head to clear the vision, scared to even think about it.

It scared me too, given how Warren had visualized Ramos. In his mind, Ramos stood at least seven feet tall, was big and bulky, and had a sneer on his face like a crazy person. I sure wouldn’t want to run into that vision of Ramos either. Strangely, something inside me settled down, and I didn’t feel so nervous anymore. It was like Ramos was here protecting me, even though he wasn’t. How crazy was that? Still, maybe this could work out after all.

We pulled into the parking lot of a restaurant with the name “The Blue Heron” posted above the entrance. It was a few minutes before noon. Although the place wasn’t crowded, there were still several cars in the parking lot. Warren parked in a far corner, backing in for a quick get-away. I glanced up and down the street, but there wasn’t a taxi in sight, and I had no idea where I was.

Warren started toward the restaurant, and I panicked. “Wait! I need my bag out of the trunk.”

“Oh, yeah.” With his mind focused on the thumb-drive, he had forgotten about everything else. He popped open the trunk and glanced around, thinking this was dangerous because Carson’s people knew he still worked a few shifts here. Since they hadn’t caught him at his apartment, they might send someone here, so we had to hurry.

Oh great! So he lied about that, and still worked here? This was worse than ever. Warren hurried inside, but I followed more slowly, wanting to keep some distance between us, especially if there was someone watching for him.

I entered the restaurant and blinked into the dark interior until my eyes adjusted. Warren walked toward the back of the restaurant like he owned the place, so I waited at the hostess desk wishing I could disappear. The hostess approached with a smile, asking if I’d like to be seated and how many were in my party.

“Just me,” I blurted, in self-preservation. “Could I sit at that table?” I pointed to a booth in the furthest, darkest corner there was. From there, I could also watch the door, and it was only a few feet from where Warren was talking in hushed tones with a waitress.

“Um… sure.” She grabbed a menu and thought that I was probably meeting up with someone I shouldn’t, like I was cheating on my husband, mostly because I looked so nervous. I should have dressed nicer though, since a theme park t-shirt and jeans made me look like a tourist. Hmm… maybe that was the idea. She bet I wouldn’t order anything but a soda.

What? I liked my t-shirt. It was white with cap sleeves, and had brightly colored blue and green sequins on it in the shape of waves with dolphins jumping out. I didn’t think it was that touristy. Annoyed, I pursed my lips and slid into the corner of my booth, stuffing my big bag down by my feet.

I took a moment to scan the thoughts of the few people here and relaxed. At least no one seemed to be paying any attention to Warren or me. As I focused on Warren’s thoughts, he noticed me sitting at the booth.

With relief, he pointed the waitress in my direction, hoping to use me as a diversion while he got the thumb-drive out of the… cleaning supply closet? The waitress was not so easily deterred, and from her mind, I realized she was an old girlfriend who was seriously ticked off. Pointing me out only escalated her anger. How dare he bring another woman here?

Good grief! I needed to get out of here and call a taxi. This was getting out of hand. Before I could slide out of the booth, a man with a stone-cold face stalked into the restaurant, and my stomach clenched with fear. This guy was pure muscle and sported snake tattoos on his biceps. He spotted Warren and frowned in confusion before putting together who he was without his beard and glasses.

Warren noticed him and stiffened with alarm. Then he glanced my way before making the decision to leave me behind and run. He took off through the back, and the snake guy took off after him, passing me as he went. I picked up that he wasn’t alone, and I was afraid it might be the end of the line for Warren.

If they caught him, would he tell them where the thumb-drive was? Should I try to get to it first? Before I could even think about it, another man entered the restaurant, scanning the people, and looking for a woman with long blond hair and a touristy white t-shirt. Yikes! That was me!

I ducked under the table and held my breath. Listening intently, I realized he hadn’t seen me, and I sighed, clenching my eyes shut with relief. A few seconds later, I sensed him turning around and leaving to find the back exit. I peeked over the table, making sure the coast was clear, then slowly sat up on the seat.

Had Warren gotten away? Were the men still outside? Should I make my escape while they were busy with Warren? I tried to get my legs under me and stand, but I couldn’t move; my muscles felt frozen to the seat.

A sudden shriek sounded from the back of the restaurant, shocking me into action, and I ducked back under the table again.

“Call nine-one-one!” a feminine voice yelled. “He’s been stabbed!”

From her thoughts, I knew it was the waitress Warren had been talking to, and she was thinking that Warren was bleeding so bad he was going to die. I jumped up and pushed through the crowd to the kitchen. Warren was lying on his side in a pool of blood with a meat cleaver in his back.

He glanced at me, moving his lips in a silent message. Even though I couldn’t hear him, I knew what he was trying to say. He was sorry for getting me into this mess, but that wasn’t the message he was intent on telling me. Before his eyes rolled back into his head, his blood-chilling message came through loud and clear.
They think you have the thumb-drive.