Chapter 23
Ellie
None of Allie’s neighbors were present when I got dropped off by the rideshare. I made sure I had all my things and got out to scan the block.
Nothing seemed out of place, except that newer model sedan. My gaze zeroed in on it.
Of course. Bridget Perkins was up to her same old shit. It was likely her who broke in.
Would it be breaking in? I decided it was because she wasn’t employed anymore. Unless she was reinstated? Then the bitch was tromping all over our Fourth Amendment rights.
With that and the shit sandwich of the hassle of public transportation and Ringo being a dick, I wasn’t in the greatest of moods when I unlocked the front door and called out, “Yo, Perkins? You’ve got a lot of nerve breaking into my sister’s house. Get your ass out here so I can kick it.”
Silence.
Huh. Maybe I was wrong and that wasn’t her car?
I pulled a knife from the butcher block in the kitchen just to be on the safe side. “Ollie-ollie-oxen-free. Show your face, Bridget.” I checked the hallway that ran down the center of the house. The living room had a wide arch that connected to it, but I’d been in that room and no one was in it.
The bathroom door was open, so she wasn’t hiding there. Nor was she in the middle bedroom.
Call it a premonition, or just my weird luck, but I’d skipped the spare bedroom to my left.
Before I walked all the way down the hall to Allie’s room, I decided to check it out.
The door squeaked as I opened it.
Usually, Allie kept this room empty. I’d have used it for storage, but my tight-ass sister did things the normal way and either shoved her shit in the attic, or down in the basement depending on whether she wanted to chance it getting wet or not.
And while the middle bedroom was all done up as a guest bedroom, this one was simply empty.
Except it wasn’t.
Perkins was tied to a chair that was smack dab in the middle of the room.
The shock of it froze me in place.
Then I started noticing things.
Her wide eyes and the struggles as she tried to get my attention.
But that wasn’t what made my fingers tingle.
Nope. It was the blood.
I don’t know why, but I noticed the little trail of drips on the carpet first. My vision narrowed in on them, making them fifty times larger than they really were.
That trail led to the legs of the chair.
Then to her pants. There was a scuff mark on the knee that was almost invisible because she’d worn a dark, utilitarian canvas.
But her white shirt had more red stains on it.
Courtesy of that head wound which was still bleedi—
I woke up in the same predicament as Bridget. Tied to a chair and placed just out of arm’s reach of her. Of course, since both my arms were bound to my torso and the chair back, I couldn’t reach if I wanted to.
Johnny Porciello paced the room.
It was such a small bedroom that it took him four steps. Then he’d turn and take four more steps, turn, and—
“You’re awake, fucking finally.”
I wiggled my fingers. They were tingling because he’d zip-tied them together too tightly, not because I was going to pass out again. Of course, all bets were off if I turned my head toward Bridget. Which I didn’t because…
What was I going to do? No one except Allie knew I was here. I didn’t even have a car outside to tip someone off that I was in the vicinity. “What the fuck do you want, Johnny?”
“Seventy grand.”
I blinked. “It was fifty.”
“Yeah? It was fifty before half of fucking Chicago’s underworld wanted to wax my ass. Did you know there’s a bounty on my head?”
“How much?” If Ringo was going to get paid, I wanted to know.
“A hundred grand!”
He said it like it was a lot of money. “That’s it? Who put the hit on you? I’ll pitch in another half mil just to see it done properly.”
“You bitch.” He swept a hand out and backhanded me.
My cheek stung. A trickle of warm liquid tickled my chin and dripped onto my shirt.
I made the mistake of looking down.
Funny, I felt detached rather than overwhelmed at the sight of my own blood. “That’s all you got? I’m bumping that up to a fucking million.”
While that would hurt my lifestyle a lot, getting rid of Johnny Porciello was worth it.
“Why aren’t you fainting? Were you faking it?”
He rounded me, and pulled out the kitchen knife I’d pilfered.
Unlike a few moments ago, that sight triggered a whole slew of emotional and chemical reactions inside. “Flame thrower.” Odd that I thought about Ringo.
Or maybe not so odd. I wanted to tell him that he was foremost in my thoughts as I faced death.
Sure, he hadn’t been the one time, wait…
make that two times before when I’d faced down my demise.
The first was so quick I hadn’t had time to think beyond looking for an escape from the dark alley I’d been lured into.
The second time I had to keep up with Mario’s quick thinking.
That took all my attention. I didn’t realize I was in trouble that time until Don Conti was on the floor bleeding from the gunshot wound.
But this time all I could do was think. My reflection glinted in the blade.
It was too small to be more than a dark blur against the backdrop of light streaming in from the window, but that told me the time of day.
This window faced west. Because of the angle of the roof and the proximity to the neighbor’s two story, the sunlight only came in this room during early to mid-afternoon.
I was supposed to be opening the bar right now. Someone would miss me.
And if Ringo gave two shits about me, maybe he’d know that.
How? I had no clue, but I wanted to put some hope into that wish.
“How did Bridget get mixed up in this?” I tipped my head and shot a quick glance at my silent partner. She’d slumped in the chair and looked much worse than I remembered.
“She was creeping around the house when I got back. I had to knock her out, but your nosy neighbor saw me. So, I dragged her inside. Who is she?”
It gave me great pleasure to tell Johnny exactly who he’d abused. “She’s an FBI agent. So… not only do you have the mob on your ass, but the Feds too.” I giggled. It was all I could do not to scream out loud, “How does it feel, asshole?”
“FBI? Wait, she was watching you.”
I nodded. “That’s right. Courtesy of dear old granddad. Bet you didn’t know Alfred Pulaski’s granddaughter was so interesting, did you?”
His face went a little paler than normal. “You mean…?”
“Yeah, the entire time. Your little excursion with Dianora Conti? All documented. They know you offed Adelmo.”
His nostrils flared a little. “Ninety grand.”
I blinked. “Haven’t you been paying attention? I want you dead.”
“But it will cost you less if I just leave. Pay me and I’m out.”
As tempting as that was, I knew he’d be back as soon as the money ran out. “Was that all I was to you? Money?”
“No.” He sounded offended. Good.
“Enlighten me.”
“You were connected. I just didn’t know how connected. The FBI? Jesus.”
As if they were the worst thing he should be worried about? “Did you know Allie married a member of the mob’s assassin squad? Think movie-level or video game level. And you are on their list.” I relished telling him that. “There’s nowhere you can hide. They’re everywhere.”
“Please, Ellie. A hundred grand, I’m gone.”
“Where will you go, Canada? That would be Firenze. He speaks French really well. His favorite weapon is a Berretta Tanfoglio. Would you run to Alaska…beyond? I’m pretty sure Loppa knows Russian. He’s good at strangling people.”
“Ellie.” He lifted his hand, warning me to shut up.
I couldn’t. Something drove me to pester him until he broke.
I don’t know why I did it, maybe I just wanted to know he wasn’t as tough as he thought he was, or that I was tougher.
“Mexico would be Don Manca’s grandnephew.
He likes to fish with the Spaniards off the western coast. Sure, his Castilian would stand out, but not as badly as a gringo with a funky mustache. ”
He uttered a growl that bordered on a scream. He came down with the knife and stabbed my leg.
It hurt, burned, and oddly only enraged me. He left the knife in place and pulled out a gun.
“What are you going to do? Shoot me? You won’t get a dime then.”
He turned the gun on Bridget’s slumped form, going as far as to hold it against her head.
“What are you doing, Johnny?”
He glared at me. “I know you. You talk a big game, but as soon as someone else is threatened, you jump right in. Both feet. Washed up cops, friends from grade school, drunks. You’re a softie. And you’re going to give me a hundred and twenty K. Right?”
Damn him. I stared at the blood on her shirt, hoping to have it trigger a fainting spell, but it did nothing. Not even a tingle.
“Sure. One twenty. Get my checkbook and a pen.” I didn’t carry a checkbook. He’d find out soon enough.
“How can I be sure you’re not lying?”
Double damn him. The trouble with dating an asshole was they knew everything about you. “I promise. You’ll get that money.”
His face screwed up in disgust. “Just like you promised to marry me? You kept lying to me, pushing me away. Telling me to ‘wait for our honeymoon.’ You had no intention of fucking me, did you?”
Put that way, no. “I dumped four grand on lingerie. Eight grand on plane tickets. Not to mention the twelve grand for the costumed Valentine’s Day extravaganza in Las Vegas complete with calling in a favor from the local justice of the peace!
You don’t think I’m serious? Who the fuck do you think you are?
” If my hands weren’t bound behind my back, I’d’ve taken the knife out of my leg and stabbed his worthless ass with it.
The gun he had at Bridget’s head dipped as he jumped into a rant. “You’re a bitch. That’s what you are. A cock-teasing bi—”
His words were cut off when Agent Perkins shot from her chair and disarmed him. The move was seamless, as was the quick way she whipped the pistol around and aimed it at him.
Johnny fell to the floor and crawled to the wall to shake. “D-don’t shoot me.” His hands went into the air.
“I should,” Bridget stated. She seemed perfectly fine, rather than comatose. Apparently, she could fake a faint more believably than one of my very real spells. I twisted in my seat to witness Johnny piss his pants.
“Please?” His hands met over his head and he let them settle on his hair.
“Bridget? Shoot him for me, please?”
She heaved a breath. Her feet were still bound to the chair and the scuffle had twisted it to the floor. She was on one knee, keeping her eyes locked on Johnny. “Sorry, Ellie. As much as he deserves it, I can’t. He’s my ticket back into the agency’s good graces. I want my job back.”
“Your job? The one chasing little kids down? Doing the government’s dirty work? That job?”
As much as I shouldn’t, I kind of hated Bridget.
“Ellie, I’ve tried to do the right thing for a long time. Just… give me this, will you?”
My breathing was too fast. I wanted revenge.
With a clarity I hadn’t had in a long time, I remembered why I had nightmares. “Did you know the FBI hid a child predator in their ranks? He was lead on my family’s task force.”
“Ellie, stop.” Bridget tightened her grip on the gun.
Johnny’s eyes darted between us. “Is that why you hate cops so much?”
I didn’t hate cops.
One saved me.
I remembered everything now. It wasn’t a forest. It was a public park. And it wasn’t night, but the middle of the day. Mom took us to play at the playground.
The agent lured me away from the swings.
A Chicago cop saw it and followed.
He’s the one who knocked the agent out and took me back.
I remembered the blood coming from the cut on his head.
All the blood.
“Casey’s partner caught him. He was a rookie at the time, but he was about to get a promotion.
It was his word against the entire FBI’s.
They busted him back down to the base rank and it took him years of scraping the bottom to dig his way back.
” And while he did that, he made friends with all the drug dealers and gangland thugs.
Eventually that got him killed and Casey framed for the murder.
All because he did his job one afternoon in the park. He didn’t even ask for credit for it.
Bridget swallowed. Something in her expression conveyed guilt.
“That was in my file, wasn’t it?”
She nodded with a very small dip of the chin. “I’m sorry. But I promise, I’ll do better by you.”
I scoffed. “By going back? How? They aren’t going to let you back. The Outfit and the Agency and the Organization, they all work together. You might as well go straight to the head of the mob and beg for a job. Because that’s the only person who’s going to approve your way back in.”
Sometimes I really should shut up. It was distracting Bridget. Her attention wavered as her certainty failed.
Johnny’s face twisted into a grin.
I expected him to leap up and wrestle Bridget for the gun.
What I didn’t expect was Ringo reaching over Bridget’s shoulder and gripping her gun and hands so hard she winced. “I’ll take that. You won’t be needing it.”
My white knight had arrived.
But I highly doubted he’d leave witnesses.