Chapter 19
May collapsed back against a wall, shaken to the core of her being. She was already off balance after the blowup with her parents, and now every awful, deadly scenario imaginable crashed through her brain.
In less than thirty seconds, Denny pulled the Porsche up front.
“Come on.” Jude grabbed her hand and pulled her out the door with him.
“I’m going?” May asked, flabbergasted by the possibility when he’d been so adamant in leaving her behind last night.
“Yeah. But you damn well better do exactly as I tell you.” He opened the back door for her, practically stuffing her inside in his haste. “Denny, you drive.”
“I can have us there in ten minutes.”
May clicked on her seat belt, relieved that she wouldn’t be left alone, waiting and wondering about what happened. At least this way she didn’t feel quite so helpless.
Secured in the seat next to her, Jude put the phone to his ear again. “You still there, Lyle? Great. What do you see?” He listened, nodded, and relayed the details to May. “Lyle’s out of sight but able to see Tim and the surrounding area. Right now Tim’s just pacing around the tracks.”
“The fool,” Denny said.
“I can’t believe this.”
Jude put his hand on her thigh and gave her a reassuring squeeze. “Keep him in sight, Lyle, but don’t intervene unless you have to. I’m going to set the phone down for a minute.” Jude lifted one hip to retrieve his wallet. He dug out a business card and handed it over the seat to Denny. “Call Burton. He should be there for this.”
Trying to grasp the turn of events, May asked, “Who’s Burton?”
“Ed Burton,” Jude explained, “the photographer.”
“Oh.” Of course she knew that. She blamed her faulty memory on the recent and distressing chaos.
While Denny called Ed, Jude took May’s hand. “This might be our best chance to nail the bastard. We don’t want to blow it.”
May’s brain finally kicked into gear. “You want to get there in time to get some incriminating evidence on Elton Pascal.”
“Damn right. Tim thought he’d be going behind our backs with this, making some shady deal with Elton. But it’s going to work to our advantage. With Burton covertly snapping pictures and recording what’s said, we might be able to end this once and for all.”
Denny clicked his phone shut. “Burton had a shoot in the area, so he was already halfway here. He’s going to blow that off to join us. He says fif teen minutes, tops. Less if he doesn’t hit any lights.”
May couldn’t help but worry. Tim might have unwittingly orchestrated his own peril.
Jude took one look at her face and rested the phone against his thigh, shielding his words. “You’ve had one hell of a day. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Tim’s the one who made the decision, not you.” She told herself what she’d told Jude earlier. “You’ve done everything you could to help him. More than enough. We’re not responsible for what he does. If he hadn’t rushed off after signing the papers…” Another lightbulb went off, and she groaned. “He didn’t care about the legalities because he plans to blow that off the same way he does everything else. Plus, he probably figured any deal with Elton cancelled a deal with you. If Elton lets him off the hook, then he doesn’t owe money, and the loan is null and void.”
“I knew he was up to something,” Jude told her. “But I thought he wanted to slip off for a drink or to gamble.”
“Do you think Elton or one of his men called again when we weren’t around and that’s when Tim set up a meeting?”
“Probably. I wish I’d taken his phone away from him. If I had, none of this would’ve happened.”
“At least now you have a chance to catch Elton in the act. That’s worth something, isn’t it?”
“It’s worth a lot.” Jude lifted the phone back to his ear. “We’re almost there, Lyle. Where are you exactly?” Following instructions through the phone, they turned down a narrow dirt road that circled up behind the old bridge. Denny drove slowly, careful not to stir up dust or make too much noise. All the while, he watched for other cars or people.
Jude spotted the PI’s car. “There. The gray Jeep.” He closed his phone, and they pulled up close.
An aging man with a kind face pushed himself away from his perch on the front bumper. Dressed in baggy brown pants and an open-collared shirt, his head bald, his eyebrows grizzled, he appeared rickety and ineffectual—until May looked into his eyes. They were keen with intelligence, alert and shrewd.
Jude, Denny, and May all got out. One eye squinted against the sun, Lyle sized them up, then shook hands with each of them.
“He’s right over here.” He led them to where an open patch in a thick line of trees allowed for clear viewing of the field beyond. “Keeps checking his watch.”
“He’s impatient,” Denny noted. “Damn him for being a fool.”
Because Denny sounded more worried and disappointed than anything else, May didn’t take exception to his continued insults against her brother.
“Over there,” Jude said, indicating a car that approached from the side, driving over the forgotten, fallow field now overrun with weeds. He didn’t seem to recognize the vehicle, but that meant little. Elton surely had the means to utilize any number of cars.
“Who is it?” Adrenaline, shock, and fear mixed like acid in May’s stomach. The car stopped, and four men got out. “Is it Elton?”
Jude shook his head. “No, it’s not even the same men who were with him at the restaurant. But I’m willing to bet they work for him. Elton has a small army of goons to do his dirty work. I should have realized he’d be too cowardly to show up himself.” He turned to Denny. “What do you want to do, stay here with May and Lyle, or—”
Denny huffed. “Just try and stop me from coming along.”
“That’s what I thought.” Jude turned and lifted May’s chin. “I know you’re going to worry, but stay put. No matter what, don’t shout out, or think to help, or—”
“I’m not an idiot.” She turned her head and kissed his palm. “I trust you, Jude, I really do. But please, please be careful.”
“I’m not an idiot either.” He turned to the PI. “Lyle?”
Lyle grinned and held up a nine-millimeter pistol. “I always come prepared. Don’t worry. I’ll see that things work out.”
A gun! May stared from Jude to Lyle and back again. They seemed to take it in stride.
Jude even winked at her. “Now, we’re going to sneak down and see if we can hear anything. If Ed gets here, tell him to catch as much as he can.”
Full of misgivings, May nodded, then watched as Jude and Denny crept closer to where Tim waited. They inched up behind a stand of trees at about the same time that Tim noticed the other men.
Calling out, Tim said, “There you are! I was getting nervous.”
“Is that right?” The fellow in the lead grinned from ear to ear, stopping Tim in his tracks.
Even from a distance, that grin made May’s skin crawl. She wished Lyle had two guns. She wished he had an Uzi.
She wished her stupid brother hadn’t embroiled Jude in this awful mess. If anything happened to either of them, she wouldn’t be able to bear it.
Tim took a step back. “Elton Pascal?”
“Not likely.”
“But…” Everything felt wrong, and fear began worming around in Tim’s guts. The man addressing him seemed somehow familiar. Not by look, but by…attitude. “Who are you?”
“You can call me Vic.”
That voice. Something about it dredged up a bone-deep panic. Looking from one behemoth to the other, Tim said, “I don’t understand. I thought—”
“You and I have a lot to discuss, Tim. But first, did you tell anyone you were coming here?”
Maybe Elton just wanted to be cautious. Maybe he needed to know it was safe before he’d present himself to discuss their business. “No.”
“You’re sure about that? Because if I find out otherwise, you won’t like the consequences.”
Surely that was it. A man in Elton Pascal’s position would have to be very cautious. But if he played his cards right, this could still work out. Tim tamped down on the rising fear. “I’m sure. I even watched to see if I was followed. But no one else left the house behind me.”
“Excellent. Now, Tim, I want you to answer some questions for me.” He stepped closer.
Even the smell of him wrought a memory. Tim started breathing too fast. “Questions?”
“You can start by telling me how to get into Jamison’s place.”
These men looked…more than malicious. If Tim had to describe bloodlust, he’d point out the eyes boring into him right now. “Why do you want in?”
An iron fist sank into his midsection, forcing all the air out of his lungs and making him almost hurl. He doubled over in god-awful pain. He hadn’t had a chance to entirely heal from the last beating…
The last beating. That’s why Vic seemed so familiar. He was the one from the car, the one who’d—
A tight hand knotted in Tim’s shirtfront, bringing him upright again, and hands gently dusted him off. “Now, Tim, let’s try this again.” Vic’s tone was absurdly kind, which only escalated Tim’s fear. “How do we get in?”
Panic tried to steal his thoughts, but then Tim remembered the clothes May wore and…“Delivery men,” he wheezed.
“What’s that? Speak up, man. There’s no reason to whisper. After all”—he patted Tim’s cheek—“we’re all alone here.”
Cold sweat popped out on Tim’s forehead as he fought to keep from puking. “He…Jude bought my sister new clothes.” Oh God, he was such a coward. “There’ve been…delivery guys…coming and going.”
“Ah.” Vic nodded. “So all I need is a delivery van, or something that looks like a delivery van, and I can coast on in. Good to know.”
Why would they need in unless they intended to kill Jude? Tim squeezed his eyes shut. He hated Jude, but he didn’t want a murder on his conscience. And his sister…poor May. She meant well. He couldn’t just sell her out. He had to at least try.
Brain cramping, Tim forced himself to look directly at the man—and lie. “I heard Jude say something…I don’t know. Something about more clothes coming tomorrow. In the morning.” If he could just buy himself some time, he could warn the others. He’d think of some way to do it without incriminating himself.
“Nice try, Tim. But you’re a shitty liar. I see it in your eyes, you know.” Vic smiled. “And in the way you’re shaking.”
Tim’s stomach dropped to his knees. “No, I wouldn’t—”
“Jamison’s been a thorn in my side for too long. Now, thanks to you, I can get him.” Still smiling like a preacher, Vic reached into his pocket and withdrew something gold. It had a low luster and looked to weigh about half a pound—
Brass knuckles.
Tim heaved, already feeling that cold metal slamming into his face.
Vic worked them onto his left hand, flexing his fingers and taunting Tim. “Of course, now that I’ve told you my intent, you have to go.”
Tim shook his head and squeezed a faint protest from the constriction in his throat. “You can’t.”
“Of course I can.”
“But…like you said, I lied. My sister knows I came here, she’ll know what happened—”
“I don’t think so, Tim. She’s so infatuated with that bastard Jamison, she’d have stopped you. But either way, it doesn’t matter. I have plans for that bitch as well.”
Oh God, oh God, oh God. What had he done? Why had he been so stupid? They’d all die because of him.
Vic intended to beat him to death. He’d use that awful contraption now decorating his meaty fist, and he’d turn his flesh into hamburger. Would anyone even be able to recognize him when Vic finished? Against a man like that, Tim was helpless.
Vic tsked. “Look at you, Tim. You’re turning green.” He reached into his other pocket and withdrew more knuckles for his right hand. He held them up like a mirror, admiring his distorted image in the shine. “I’m going to enjoy this, Tim. I take great pride in my work.”
A fuzzy blackness closed in around Tim, and he knew any second now he’d faint. He almost welcomed it as a way to escape the punishment that would come.
Then something Denny and Jude told him suddenly popped into his head.
When you’re going to fight, you fight. You don’t talk about it.
Vic continued taunting Tim about the difficulty he often had getting blood off the knuckles. He told Tim he could devastate his internal organs with some well-placed shots.
Breath choppy and heart hammering, Tim slowly looked up. Just because he’d die today, he didn’t have to make it easy for them.
He locked his gaze on Vic, and when Vic paused, surprised at his boldness, Tim growled, “Fuck off, you psycopath.”
And with that, he kicked as fast and hard as he could—and got lucky enough to land his foot in Vic’s crotch.
A high-pitched, girlish scream of agony split the air, thrilling Tim, bolstering his confidence and seldom felt courage.
When Vic doubled over, Tim launched himself at the fellow who stood right behind him. But his triumphant counterattack proved short lived.
They hit the ground hard, jarring every bone in Tim’s body, and with embarrassing ease, the man turned and pinned Tim to the ground. A fist, thankfully bare of metal, smashed his jaw, once, twice.
Stars circled and danced; black oblivion beckoned.
And then the man somehow flew away from Tim.
Automatically rolling to his side in the fetal position, Tim choked on his own blood while sucking in much-needed oxygen. Noise exploded around him, dull thuds, hollow grunts, but he couldn’t comprehend it, not with his nose bleeding again and his head pounding.
A body tripped over him, causing him more pain, and Tim looked up to see Denny in action.
He forgot about breathing.
Like a grim, avenging angel, Denny fought with methodical deliberation. Every strike seemed preplanned but also instantaneous.
Unwilling to miss it, Tim half sat up and scrambled like a crab out of the way. In no time at all, two men were down, unmoving, still as death.
Jude hit a guy in the temple, then kicked out his knee; the man crumpled. Denny kicked another in the face, causing him to sink to the ground in an awkward heap. Neither Jude nor Denny breathed hard. Incredible.
When a light flashed in Tim’s eyes, he glanced around and found some bozo taking photographs.
Another old geezer stood off to the side, gun drawn, casual competence displayed in his stance and expression.
And next to them stood Tim’s sister, pale as a ghost, hugging herself tight while dancing in place. Tim saw tears in her eyes, and emotional pain.
All in all, she acted like a woman, except Tim suspected she held herself back so that she wouldn’t jump into the fray.
For some reason, maybe a touch of hysteria, Tim found that hilarious. He could almost picture May leaping in, fists drawn. If it happened, he’d put his bucks on May.
If his mouth hadn’t already swollen too much to let his lips curve, Tim would have laughed.
Man, he’d messed up big time. Not only had he offered Jude as a sacrifice, but he could have gotten his sister murdered, and he wouldn’t have lived to tell about it. He didn’t blame any of them for hating him. How could they not? They wouldn’t understand his predicament. They wouldn’t realize that he was afraid and only trying to stay alive.
Maybe he should sneak off while they were all preoccupied. They’d be glad to see the last of him. They wouldn’t miss him. They wouldn’t care that he was gone.
But…Denny hadn’t let him die. Sure, he and Jude had taken their time, letting him lose a year off his life out of sheer terror. And thanks to getting punched in the face, he’d be hurting for another week.
But they hadn’t abandoned him.
They hadn’t even let him get beaten real bad. When Tim imagined those solid, cold brass knuckles tearing his flesh and cracking his bones, his stomach heaved again. If Jude and Denny hadn’t intervened when they did, he would have had some serious injuries.
He felt like an asshole. Worse, he felt contemptible.
He’d spare them all and leave now. Maybe hide away somewhere so they’d never find him. That’d surely make them happy. May despised helping him. Jude made his disgust well known…
Sirens blasted the air, startling Tim, and then he lost his chance to escape.
Knuckles bloody, Denny came to stand over him. Tim was too ashamed and too intimidated to look at him, until Denny held out a hand and said, “Men don’t cower, you fool. Now, stand up before the cops see what a baby girl you’re being.”
Thunderstruck, Tim glanced up and saw only the thrill of the fight in Denny’s eyes. No revulsion. No hostility.
Denny didn’t hate him?
An insult had never felt so good.
Gingerly, Tim took the proffered hand; Denny hauled him to his feet and dusted him off in a way that hurt worse than the blows had. But Tim didn’t complain.
“Dumb shit,” Denny muttered.
Tim ran a hand over his head, sheepish and scared and relieved enough to feel like collapsing. “I’m sorry, all right?”
“Sorry it didn’t work out as you planned. But I swear to God, boy, if I have to, I’m going to beat some common sense and honor into you. And don’t think I can’t. I’ve worked with worse hardons than you. Guys come to the SBC because they’re angry, or lost. Some of them have criminal records. I teach them control, how to channel that energy. In comparison,” he said, giving Tim a slap on the side of the head, “you’re no more than a cupcake.”
Tim rubbed at his stinging ear and thought of the moment he’d defended himself. That little bit of control had been…empowering.
Now that he knew he wouldn’t die, remembering it made him feel good. “Okay.”
Denny continued to scowl. With hair mussed, displaying the tattoo on his skull, and that particular look on his face, he resembled a lunatic. A crazed lunatic.
Until he grinned.
“At least I know you listened to some of what I said.” A rough, gravelly laugh slipped out. “Swear to God, boy, the way you nutted that bastard really made my day. He’ll be singing like a soprano for a week.”
A tiny flare of hope burst to life inside Tim. Could he salvage this mess, after all? Maybe Denny would be in his corner. “You said not to talk about it, to just do it.” Enthusiasm ripened. “I knew he’d kick my ass.”
Denny snorted. “He was going to kill you.”
Knowing it to be true, Tim gulped. “Right. So I figured, what the hell. No reason to make it easy for him.”
“You’re learning.” And Denny slung his arm around him.
Behind Denny, Jude slapped Vic’s face until he came around. The second Vic blinked, Jude demanded, “Where’s Elton?”
Vic grimaced. “Elton who?”
“Funny. Real funny.”
“Fuck off, Jamison.”
Jude laughed, impressing the hell out of Tim. He looked to be in a very controlled, icy rage, but still he laughed.
“You’re too stupid to realize that it’s all over, huh, Vic? Yeah, I know your name. I heard everything you said to Tim. I know damn good and well Elton sent you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You want to be that way, fine. I’m happy to let the cops deal with you. They’re swarming down the hill right now.” Jude’s eyes glittered with malevolence. “Just imagine what Elton’s reaction will be once he knows they’ve got you.”
Vic groaned, locked his teeth, and turned his face away.
“You’re in a lose-lose situation, bud. Either the cops lock you up, or they let you go and Elton has you taken off at the knees. One way or another, you stop being a problem to me.”
Ed Burton stepped forward. “I’ve got it all on tape, Jude. Every single word. It’ll be in the morning edition of every paper I can reach.”
“You haven’t got shit,” Vic yelled, and he started to struggle. “I haven’t said a damn thing.”
Jude put a knee to his chest, keeping him still. “Maybe not.” His smile turned lethal. “But will Elton believe that after Ed runs his story?”
Ah, Tim thought, watching as Jude easily subdued Vic. Clever of him to get a reporter involved. But then, Jude always seemed to be two steps ahead of everyone else—one of the reasons Tim despised him. Or somewhat despised him.
Most of all, he envied him.
Suddenly, police swarmed the area, guns drawn, and Tim watched it all in fascination. Jude identified himself, let the cops take custody of Vic, then answered questions with practiced ease. As soon as the police finished grilling him, he went to May. He hugged her close, kissed her in front of God and everyone, and then led her to a fallen log to sit down. He pampered her, as if she’d been the one in the fight. But she didn’t have blood on her face. She didn’t have aching ribs.
Gallant bastard. Okay, so he more than envied Jude. He admired him. He wished he could be more like him.
Maybe, just maybe, Denny could make it happen.