Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
“Here’s what’s going to happen.” Gagnon’s words carried the smooth confidence of a man who’d orchestrated a thousand betrayals. He met Cici’s eyes as he spoke to Asher on the phone. “You’re going to come to me. Alone. No backup, no law enforcement, no clever little schemes.”
Cici wished she could hear Asher’s response, but Gagnon hadn’t put this call on speaker. Whatever Asher said made Gagnon’s mouth curve into that cold smile she loathed.
“Insurance?” Gagnon chuckled, the sound less amused than evil. “You want to play games with dead-man’s switches? Understand this: the moment I suspect law enforcement is involved, the moment I see so much as a suspicious shadow, she dies.”
Cici pressed herself against the filing cabinet, her zip-tied hands numb behind her back, wishing she could disappear.
He was quiet, listening. Then said, “Ruin me? Maybe.” Gagnon’s tone was conversational. “But she’ll still be dead. And I could, as you suggested, run. You saw the contents of that SD card. Do I seem like a man who hasn’t considered—and planned for—every contingency?”
Tightness around his eyes and a barely perceptible stiffening of his shoulders told her there was more going on than what he said.
He listened, then sighed. “One moment.” He tapped the phone screen. Must’ve been the mute button, because he spoke to Souza. “He wants to talk to her.”
“We can prove she’s alive without a conversation.” His flicker of eagerness had her stomach turning.
Souza took pleasure in hurting her. He’d proved that with every kick, every pinch, every slap—timed so Asher would hear.
“We’ve provoked him enough,” Gagnon said.
Souza’s lips slipped into a frown. “She’ll give him information.”
“You’ll have to think of a way to keep her quiet.”
Souza stared at her, and as much as she wanted to cower, she forced herself to hold his eye contact.
Despite the ribs that blazed with pain. Despite the way her cheek burned and her head throbbed, she didn’t back down.
Crouching in front of her, Souza yanked off her shoes and socks, then pulled a knife from a sheath where it’d been tucked beneath his sweatshirt. He positioned the blade across her big toe. “It won’t kill her.” His evil grin returned. “But it’ll definitely stop her from running.”
Gagnon didn’t bother lowering to her level, just looked down at her. “Do not try to give your bodyguard any information. Tell him you’re fine and we’re treating you well.”
“So you want me to lie?”
“I want you to keep your toe.”
As much as she was desperate to tell Asher where she was, how many men were here, and how she was guarded, in this, she and Gagnon agreed.
She was pretty attached to her toes. And Souza wouldn’t hesitate to make good on his promise. “Fine.”
Gagnon tapped the phone, then lowered it toward her.
“Asher?”
“Cici, thank God. Are you all right?”
She flicked her gaze to her captor, refusing to look at Souza and his well-placed knife. “Mr. Gagnon is as gracious a host as you’d guess.”
He narrowed his eyes, not liking her answer.
“I’m going to get you out of there,” Asher said. “I promise.”
“Be careful. These people—”
“That’s enough.” Gagnon swiveled, taking the phone with him. “As you can hear, she’s alive and well. I’ll tell my men to stand down. You have five minutes to get to the gate. Bring the SD card with you.”
Souza backed away but didn’t return his knife to its sheath. Probably hoping he’d get the chance to use it.
She shifted to watch Gagnon.
“You must think I’m an idiot.” He hadn’t taken the phone off speaker, so Asher’s answer rang through the room. “The card is in a safe place. You’ll get it when Cici is too.”
“Don’t make me hurt her again.” Gagnon tapped on his phone and read. What was he doing? Checking his texts?
“If you do,” Asher said, “I’ll send one of the files on the SD card to the FBI. Just one. We’ll start with Maxwell Pierce’s.”
Souza’s gaze snapped to Gagnon.
“Pierce’s fall from grace will be complete and public,” Asher said, “in light of all his community activism. I suspect he’ll take Souza down with him.”
The guard’s eyebrows hiked, obviously surprised Asher knew his name.
His cheeks flushed, his eyes narrowing. If deadly threat had a face, Souza wore it.
Gagnon waved Souza down, but by the degrees Souza relaxed—somewhere around zero—he wasn’t buying Gagnon’s casual reassurance.
“It’ll definitely be a hitch in the road for the Fourth Hood.” Asher’s tone was matter-of-fact. “Though I’m sure some other gang will step in to continue their work. Who knows, Wendall? Maybe you’ll survive.”
“If you release a single iota of what’s on that SD card—”
“Keep your hands off Cici, then, and we won’t have a problem. Tell your men to stand down. I don’t want to have to take out any more. When I get to the gate, I expect Cici to be safe and ready to move. And be able to move.”
“You expect me to just hand her over without getting the SD card?”
“I’ll give you the card.”
Gagnon glared at the phone. “But of course you’ve copied all the information off it.”
“What do you think, Wendall? You’re the king of leverage. What would you do?”
Gagnon should be nervous. He should be shaking in his boots. But he wasn’t. He was angry, obviously, because this hadn’t gone as planned.
But he wasn’t defeated. He was calculating.
Here was a man who’d thrived for decades with money collected from bribing dangerous, powerful people. He’d said he had contingency plans. Cici guessed he was using one even now.
“Your problem,” Asher said through the phone, “is that you think you’ve got all the power, but the truth is, you aren’t holding any cards at all.”
“You may be right. I look forward to speaking with you face-to-face.” Gagnon ended the call, dropped his phone on the desk, and smiled that terrible smile.
Cici’s stomach dropped through the concrete floor. He was up to something, and Asher was about to find out what.