SHANK (A Wilde Crime Series) (33 page)

“What the fuck are you talking about?”
Drew stood, knocking the bar stool over. It hit the floor with a bang, rolled once, and stopped an inch of two from my barefoot.

Mickey
jumped to his feet. “What the fuck’s going on?”

I
didn’t move. “Why’d you have to kill Neil?” What bothered me most about Neil’s murder rushed back. He’d let his killer in, and laid down to die. Like you would for a friend.

“Ian, that can’t be true. Tell him, Drew.” Mickey twisted to face Drew, knocking over his shot glass in the process. The glass hit the floor and shattered, adding to the mess already littering the ground.

Drew
lowered his eyes. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Fucking tell me what it was like!” I drew the .38 from my waistband and pointed it at his head. “Speak
.”

“I needed the money.” He threw his hands up
. “I owed Sal big time. Nick, Roberto, and I had this business deal. It went south, and it was either come up with some capital or die.”

I cocked the gun.
“You killed Nick, didn’t you? And Frankie made the perfect scapegoat.”

Drew
grinned, a sick, dangerous smile of a psychopath. “She wasn’t the one I planned to take the fall. You wouldn’t let her go to jail. You’re too much of a fucking hero for that. So yeah, I killed Nick. It was easy, and after that, well, it just got easier.”

“Why Neil?
He loved you like a brother.”

He shrugged. “Face it.
He was already dead. I just pulled the trigger.”

“
How much was his life worth? All of our lives. What was the price?” I felt sick, my stomach burning with hate.

“Twelve million.
” He laughed. “I needed to pay Sal off, and you showed me the perfect way to do that. Sure it was a bit of a gamble, but what’s life without a little risk?”

Fucking psycho
. In the joint I’d met a few. Cold blooded killers always looking out for number one. How had I not seen it before? My finger flexed on the trigger. Put a bullet in him and be done with it, my mind screamed. I released a small breath, and said, “Looks like you lost, because you’re life ain’t worth shit anymore.”

He laughed
again, sounding crazier with each passing minute. “I think you have that wrong.” As he said the words, Mickey stumbled, catching himself on a stool before his eyes rolled back into his head and he dropped to the floor.

“Mickey?” My speech
slurred and my brain began to shut down. Fuck. Drugged. I glanced at the bottle of Jameson, trying to focus on Drew and the gun in my hand. My finger twitched on the trigger, but failed to comply with my brain’s command to blow a huge hole in him.

“Goodnight hero.”
Drew smashed his fist into my jaw, and everything went black.

An explosion of pain zipped throughout my head. A burst of colors behind my eyelids warned I was still alive and the rolling in my stomach from the drugs confirm it. GHB. Drew had slipped me a fucking date rape drug. I tried to open my eyes, and after a minute, my body complied. Everything moved in slow motion, and it took a minute for my brain to process what I saw. Mickey sat strapped to a chair across from me, his head lulling to one side. His hands and legs wrapped in duct tape. I glanced down at my own arms taped behind my back. Damn. I pulled at the tape, but to no avail.

“Mickey?” I yelled, trying to kick him with my bound legs.
“Come on, man, wake up.”

He blinked, voice weak.
“What’s…going on? Where’s Drew?”

“I don’t know.”
I tried again to loosen the tape enough to reach the knife in my boot. Fuck, I wasn’t wearing my boots. No boots equaled no knife. No knife meant we were fucked.

“
I’m right here, my friends.” Drew stood in the doorway; a metal can in his hands. “Glad you’re awake. I don’t want you to miss this.” He poured what smelled like turpentine over the walls and floor. A pool of it settled around my feet. Bastard.

“Why bother torching the place?” I gave a bitter laugh. “Kill us outright. I
t doesn’t matter.”

Drew
stopped, his eyes and face cold. “Why do you say that?”

“I called Billy when I was ‘taking care’ of Roberto. Told him everything.”

“You’re bluffing.” Drew threw the can at me. It slammed into the side of my head. My head snapped back, blood welling from a six-inch gash in my forehead. Blood dripped steadily down, blinding me.

“Am I
?” I paused, blinking the wetness away and laughed. “You wanna risk it? Billy will hunt you down. There will be no place you’ll be safe.”

“
Why can’t you ever give up? You always have a fucking plan, and we’re always stupid enough to listen. But not today. I’m giving the orders. I’m walking away the big winner.” He stomped his feet, reminding me of a spoiled child.

“
If you wanna win, you’ll cut Mickey loose. He has a wife and a kid on the way.”

“
No more grand sacrifice from you. Not to save Mickey or his sweet little sister. After you’re dead, Frankie will be fucking me. Me. What do you think about that?”

“
Frankie will never sleep with the likes of you,” Mickey growled, eyes black with hate.

“Who said she
’ll be willing? A little of this,” he pulled a small vial of GHB from his pocket, “and you baby sister won’t know who she’s fucking.”

“I’ll kill you.” My voice
softened, so much so that Drew had to lean in to hear me.

“Too late, hero. You won’t save her this time.”
Drew set the metal container down, and pulled out my .38, pressing it against my temple. The click of the hammer pulling back filled the silent room. “Give the devil my regards.”

“Why don’t you tell the devil yourself?” Frankie stood behind Drew, my M1911 steady in her small hands. Every muscle in her body ridged as she chambered a round. Drew flinched at the sound.

“
Don’t be stupid. Is Ian really worth dying for?” Drew slowly turned to her, the .38 pointed at her chest.

“Yes,
” she said, a tear sliding along her cheekbone.

“No!
” I yelled at the same time.

“Why
Drew? You were like a brother to us. Can money replace that?” Her hand shook on the gun. A sure sign of weakness. I prayed Drew didn’t pick up on it.

But he had. His voice turned soothing and warm, oozing charm like a festering wound.
Drew shook his head, sadly and stepped closer to her. “I didn’t want to hurt anyone.” He took another step, almost within striking distance. “I tried to stop it. To put the blame on Morrissey, but Ian wouldn’t leave it alone. He’s like a fucking dog with a bone.”

Step back, Frankie, I wanted to scream, but any distraction gave him the
advantage. If he got her gun we’d all die. Frankie’s hand shook again, and the barrel of the gun dropped a few centimeters. “I want to trust you, and I know how Ian can be.” She cried openly now. “I’m so scared. Can I trust you Drew? Will you let us go?”

“Of course, baby. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”
Drew took another step, reaching his hands out for her gun. Gunfire exploded. Boom, boom, boom, boom. Repeatedly, the gun fired until the click of an empty clip echoed in the now silent room.

The force of the first bullet
crushed Drew to the wall. A red splatter of blood burst from the center of his chest. A look of grim surprise crossed his features. His mouth formed an O before the second shot took a large chuck out of his ribcage. The third, fourth, and fifth pierced his torso, but he was already dead.

Frankie
continued to fire, watching the rhythmic jerk of bullets puncturing his body until the last round left the chamber. Finally, gun spent, she lowered it and wiped a tear away with the back of her hand. “He could never tell when I was bluffing.”

Micke
y and I sat in stunned silence.

Her eyes narrowed.
“Come on. You knew I was bluffing, right?”

I shrugged.
“Yeah, like always, you overplayed your hand.”

“I’ll work on it.”
She winked at me.

A week later I stood at the altar of a small Irish Catholic Church, dressed in a black tuxedo with a tiny hole in the armpit seam. The church reeked of orchids and incense. I considered either passing out or throwing up from the smell. My stomach rolled from too much alcohol the night before. Thanks to a surprise bachelor party Mickey hosted.

Colin stood next to me,
his smile locked in place. He wore a matching black Armani tuxedo and an opened collared shirt. The perfect image of rock star at the top of his game. Mickey sat with Beth in the first pew next to Andy, baby Cahan, and Roxanne. One big happy family.

Frankie stepped from the back of the church and into the aisle.
My gut tightened. She winked at me, lifting the edge of her dress to show off a pair of pink six-inch. Shoes I remembered fondly from Grand Cayman. I wanted to pull her in my arms. We’d seen little of each other since Drew’s death. Mostly due to our arrest minutes after Frankie freed us. The NYPD had trust issues.

After t
wo days of interrogations and intimidation, Detective Burgess released Mickey and Frankie. A day later he let me go too. That was a week ago, and I’d yet to get Frankie alone. She spent her days at the hospital with Joey-Dean. The doctors expected him to make a full recovery. I wasn’t sure where she spent her nights, but it wasn’t in my bed.

“Dearly beloved…,” the priest began.

Frankie flashed me a wicked grin, and my thoughts turned south. I pictured her naked, long, lean limbs slick with sweat. I tried not to fidget while the priest droned on about the importance of trust and honor. Blah. Blah. Blah.

After
what seemed like seven hours the priest finally said the words we’d all been waiting for, “You may now kiss the bride.”

Colin
wrapped his arms around Zoë, and kissed her with tenderness, passion, and love. Shouted congratulations echoed around the church, drowning out Colin’s whispered promises, and Zoë’s tinkling laughter. A perfect moment.

The priest introduced the happy couple to the crowd
, and well-wishers rushed forward to congratulate them. One or two guys groped at the bride while a pack of women hung on Colin’s every word. Zoë smiled through it all, her hand pressed firmly into his.

I hung back as the bridal pa
rty and guests left the church. Frankie, in a perfectly pink bridesmaid dress, vanished into the crowd as well. But it was all right, I’d find her soon enough.

“Hey stranger.
” Frankie stood in the rectory doorway with a bottle of champagne in her right hand and her high heels in her other. “Care to join me for a drink?”

I smiled, reaching
for the bottle. I twisted the cork. Pop. Bubbles shot from the top, pouring down the sides and on to the worn carpeting. “Shit,” I said trying to mop the suds with my jacket before it stained the carpet. How many Hail Mary’s was it for spilling champagne on a church floor?

Frankie laughed
and took the bottle from my hand. She drank deeply, licking the foam from her lips. That was my undoing. I grabbed her around the waist, and pressed my mouth to hers. Our kiss, anything but sweet, curled my toes. If the priest hadn’t interrupted us, I would have fulfilled the fantasy I had since grade school when I realized Sister Mary France wasn’t wearing panties.

“Sorry Father.
” Frankie dipped her head and grabbed my hand. We rushed through the church and out into the warm fall day.

I pulled her
to a stop on the church stairs and kissed her. “I missed you.”

“Really?”

“No.” She smacked me in the arm, and I added, “Okay, maybe a little.”

“I’ve missed you too. Everything happened so fast.
I still haven’t put it all together. One minute I’m at the hospital—”

“How
did you wind up at the bar?”

“
Drew messed up. He came to the hospital and Joey-Dean recognized him. Joey caught Drew fucking around with the electrical wiring...,” she cringed, “and when Joey tried to stop him, Drew shot him.”

I owed
that kid. More than I could ever repay. “So Joey-Dean told you it was Drew?”

“
Sort of. He tried to, but the drugs made him so groggy that I wasn’t sure what he was saying. It made me think though. When Drew was shot the wound was superficial, and he laid the blame on Mike, and later, Roberto. But what if Drew shot himself?”

I nodded. It made sense.
“What about Roberto? How’d you know he wasn’t the guy?” My jealousy, dimmed by the fact he was dead, reared its head. Shit, I wanted to shoot him myself.