Trapped by Revenge: A Shelby Nichols Adventure (24 page)

“Maybe if you’re found dead here,” he agreed. “But what if you’re found dead at Manetto’s club? The same club where my daughter died. That would be poetic justice, don’t you think? With my little file here, I’m sure it would still be enough to convict Manetto of something.”

Damn! I needed to buy more time. “Okay then,” I said, licking my lips. “I’ll do what you want. I’ll turn on Uncle Joey.”

He huffed in disdain. “You think I’m going to believe you now?”

Did he really want me to answer that? “Yes you should,” I said. “I can see if I want to get out of this alive, I’d better do what you want. So, just put the gun away and I’ll go straight to the police, I promise.”

He shook his head. “Not going to happen. It’s time we took a little walk to the car.” He was thinking he’d have to wait to kill me until we got to Manetto’s club, but this might actually work out better than his first plan in the long run. Besides, if I was involved with Manetto I was scum anyway, so he didn’t feel too bad about killing me.

“You’re really going to kill me? Oh wait, no, you’re going to get your hired assassin to do it and then you’re going to get rid of her too, right?” I was hoping she was still listening, although I hadn’t heard much from her lately.

“Her?” His brows scrunched together. “You know her? You know who she is?”

“No,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “I was just guessing it was a she.”

He studied me for a minute. “You do know. You’re a terrible liar.” Then another thought occurred to him which had me thinking I really wasn’t going to make it out of this alive. “Did she go to Manetto or something? That little bitch. Does Manetto know about me then?”

“Ha! I wish. Do you think if he did, I would have come here to talk to you?”

“Good point,” he agreed. “Come on. We’d better get going.”

He picked up his briefcase and motioned with his gun that I was to precede him out the door. I hoped that maybe the “little bitch” was waiting for him and would shoot him or something. I passed through the doorway and into the outer office but could see no sign of her. How could she leave? She was my only hope! Then I picked up a thought that as soon as we were in the elevator, she’d call Manetto and tell him about me. He was sure to help her get out of town if she did that.

That’s when I noticed something dark wedged under the secretary’s desk, and I hoped Dobson didn’t look over there too hard. We made it out into the hall and I breathed easier. In the elevator, he pushed the button for the parking level and I nearly groaned. I hated parking garages. But at least I could hope that someone would be getting in their car and see that he was kidnapping me. We exited the elevator and my hopes were dashed. For this big of a building, the parking garage only had a few cars in it, so we were pretty much alone.

As we walked toward his car, I wished I dared turn around and whack the gun out of his hand with my purse or something, but with my luck, I’d just end up getting shot. At least I knew the secretary was calling Manetto right now, or I might have chanced it.

I also had my stun flashlight inside my purse, and if I got the chance to use it, I would. I eased my hand inside my purse until I had a hold of the handle and felt much better. Any minute now, he was going to get zapped. We got to the car, and he took his keys from his pocket and popped open the trunk.

“You’re going to make me ride in the trunk?”

“Shut up and get in,” he said.

Since I couldn’t zap him with his gun pointed at my face, I threw my purse in before he thought about grabbing it and climbed over the bumper. I practically fell in since I was still in my pencil skirt, and knew he caught a flash of my panties, but that was the least of my worries. At least he drove a nice car so the trunk was big and roomy.

“Hand over your purse,” he said, the gun still trained at my head. Dammit! I pulled the purse out from under me and gave it to him. He then grabbed a piece of rope from the trunk and, still holding the gun on me, said, “Hold out your hands.” Soon, he had my hands tied together. With a smirk, he slammed the lid down, almost hitting me in the head before I ducked out of the way.

I was in so much trouble. I spent the whole ride over to Manetto’s club trying to find the button that opened the trunk. Even with my hands tied together, I figured I could open it and wave at the cars for help, or even jump out at a stop light or something. But I never found it, and focused instead on getting the rope off my wrists.

The car made several stops and starts, but finally the engine turned off. This was it. We had arrived. The car door opened and shut. I held my breath, waiting for him to open the trunk, but nothing happened. Where did he go? I listened for several minutes before I started pounding on the trunk and making as much noise as I could. After a while, I quit, realizing that he must have parked the car in a spot where no one could hear me.

I switched back to pulling at the rope with my teeth. The only thing that calmed my nerves was knowing that the longer I was stuck in the trunk, the better my chances that Uncle Joey and Ramos would get there before Dobson killed me. That was good. Plus, I could hope that by now, Chris would have called Uncle Joey to find out where I was since I hadn’t called him back. He could even call Dimples to help find me. I had a whole bunch of people that I could count on, right? I could still get out of this alive.

Every few minutes, I pounded on the trunk, just in case someone might hear me. My shoulders and neck were getting scrunched, so I maneuvered onto my back as much as I could. By this point my skirt had ridden up to my hips, and all my efforts to push it back down didn’t seem to have much of an effect, so I finally gave up.

I worked at loosening the rope around my hands, and I was sure it wouldn’t take much to free them, but I worried that Dobson would just tie me up again when he saw them undone, so I waited to see what happened first.

The sound of measured footsteps coming nearer filled me with dread. This was it. He was coming back to get me. The trunk popped open and there he was, looming over me, looking just as unsympathetic as before. He reached in and grabbed hold of my arm, taking a moment to appreciate my bare legs. I would have slapped him if I could. As he tugged me up and out of the trunk, it took a moment to get my legs out and planted on the ground before I could stand.

With his hand clamped around my arm and his gun jammed into my ribs, he led me away from the car. He was thinking that sneaking me into the club had gone much easier than he’d hoped. The staff door was easy to prop open once he’d managed to get back there, and with the car parked in the back of the adjacent building, he could hustle me inside before anyone noticed.

He pulled me along at a fast pace, and I tried to drag my feet as much as possible. But he was a big guy, and mostly just ended up prodding me along with his gun.  From the pressure he used, I knew if I survived, I’d have a big honking bruise on my ribs.

Opening the staff door, he yanked me inside, and we ducked past a room with several lockers. We came to a corridor and slipped past the crowded kitchen and into a small pantry. Footsteps marked the passage of someone just outside, and I held my breath as they passed. I probably would have started yelling except for the gun stuck in my ribs.

I suddenly realized Dobson’s plan of getting me inside Uncle Joey’s club wasn’t so far-fetched after all. It seemed like he knew his way around here pretty well, and I wondered how he’d managed that. I got my answer when he started thinking about all the times he’d scoped the place out, and how glad he was he hadn’t burned it to the ground like he’d once planned.

Underestimating his resourcefulness was starting me make me sweat. I’d hoped that by now Uncle Joey or Ramos would have stopped him and gotten me out of this mess. With a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, I wondered if the secretary had even made the call to Uncle Joey.

Dobson glanced into the hallway and, finding it empty, pulled me back out. He hauled me swiftly to a set of stairs that headed down into a dark basement. My throat caught with fear and I started to panic. It didn’t look like anyone was hiding down there, which meant no rescue for me.

At the bottom of the stairs, he flipped on a light switch and pulled me to the center of the room. Several boxes, along with old tables and chairs, light fixtures, and other discarded objects filled the cavernous space. He grabbed an old chair and, sliding it under the bare light bulb in the center of the room, forced me to sit down.

I noticed my purse on the ground near me and realized he’d already been down here once today. He glanced around thinking this was a perfect spot for my murder. The only problem was that Manetto wasn’t here to witness it. My death happening so quickly wouldn’t bring the pain and suffering he’d wanted Manetto to feel, so the satisfaction of killing me wasn’t doing it for him. But as long as Manetto went to prison for it, it would have to be enough.

He’d also never killed anyone by his own hand before, but without Ginger here to do it, it was up to him. It hit him that maybe he’d been a little too hasty in bringing me here. Why had he let me goad him into this? It wasn’t part of his carefully laid plan, but he didn’t have a choice. Not if I went to Manetto and told him everything. Now he’d have to shoot me himself and hope no one found me for a while so he could get away. He just needed a pillow or cushion or something to muffle the sound.

Without his hold on me, and with his attention elsewhere, I pulled my hands out of the rope. I’d listened carefully, but I couldn’t hear anyone’s thoughts in this dark basement and knew I was alone. No one was coming to rescue me. Since he was hesitating, I was ready to lunge at him and scream for all I was worth, then hope for the best. It was my only chance to get out of this alive.

He turned his back to me, looking for that cushion, and I knew this was it. With my heart pumping, I jumped toward him and rammed into his back with all I had. Lucky for me, he was already in motion and my leap knocked him down, with the momentum carrying me to land on top of him.

The gun flew from his hand, and he landed hard on his chest. I quickly rolled off him and ran for the stairs. He grabbed my ankle and pulled me back down. Using my elbow, I butted him in the side of his head, catching him in the ear. He yelled and dove for the gun.

I knew I couldn’t get away before he shot me, so I went for the gun too. His hand closed around it, and I grabbed his arm with both hands and held on tight. With a mighty heave, he pushed against me and threw me off. I lost my grip, and the momentum of his throw carried me several feet away where I came down in a hard roll. I sat up and got my legs under me, but before I could get to my feet, he brought his gun around to point at my chest.

The sound of the door crashing open distracted him, and for a fraction of a second, I thought I was safe. But the booming sound of a gun firing, and the searing heat of a bullet threw me back, and I crumpled to the floor. More gunfire and shouting echoed in the room, but with the stabbing heat in my arm, I hardly noticed. Then all went still.

“Shelby? Shelby!” I unclenched my eyes to find Chris hovering over me. The panic in his eyes was nothing compared to his thoughts. He registered blood and focused on my arm. Relief that it wasn’t worse, and horror that I’d been shot, sent him into overdrive. “Shelby’s been shot! Call an ambulance!”

“Let me see.” This came from Ramos, and his panic was more controlled, but just barely. He knelt beside me and gently moved my arm to examine it.

“Oww!” I croaked. “That hurts!”

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” he asked.

“Um… no.”

Relief swept over him and he nodded. “Good, then you’ll be fine. I think it’s just a flesh wound.”

“Really? Because… it hurts like hell.”

“How bad is it?” Uncle Joey asked, joining our little group.

“Well, she’s complaining,” Ramos said. “So it’s not too bad.”

“Ugh! Get me out of here.” I clutched Chris’ arm with my good hand but couldn’t manage to pull myself up into a sitting position.

“You stay right there,” Chris commanded. “You’re not moving until the ambulance comes.”

“Here,” Ramos said, holding a cloth someone handed him. “Let me wrap this around her arm to staunch the bleeding.” He gently wrapped it around my arm, and I tried not to yelp, although I couldn’t help groaning a bit. “I think that will hold until the paramedics arrive.” Satisfied that I was in good hands and going to live, Ramos and Uncle Joey left to see how the judge was doing.

Chris pulled his jacket off and threw it over my legs, then cradled my head on his lap. “Is that better?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Good.” Chris took my hand and held it tight.

“What about the judge?” I asked. “Did someone shoot him?”

“Yeah.” Chris glanced to my left. “But he’s not dead yet.” He was thinking that if he could have pulled the trigger, he’d have kept shooting until the bastard was full of holes and deader than a doornail.

“Who shot him?” I asked.

“Harris,” he answered.

“What?” For some reason, I thought for sure it would have been Ramos. “How did Dimples get here?” I glanced around, and for the first time, noticed Dimples and a couple of other officers trying to keep the judge alive.

Chris sighed. “About twenty minutes after you left, I called Manetto. Something about Judge Dobson worried me, and I wanted to make sure you got there safely. When he said you never showed up, I panicked and told him I was calling Harris.” Chris knew I wasn’t going to like what he said next, so he looked me right in the eyes and went for it. “I told Harris everything. That it was Manetto who sent you to talk to Sam Killpack, and that was the real reason you were there.”