Chapter 22
Bess
Great, now my brother won’t speak to me either.
He knows I talked the moment he spots Savvy following me into the room.
All I get is a glare before he turns his head away.
“I find it rich you are pissed at me for sharing, when you’re the one whose loose lips got us into this mess in the first place,” I tell the back of his head.
When he doesn’t react, it only fuels my anger.
“What would you have me do, Ken? Go on the run with you? How would that have solved anything? What kind of life would that be? I already have a life, right here. I have friends, people I care about, a business I built by myself. I don’t want to run. I want to stay and fight to keep it.”
Savvy nudges me when nothing from my brother is forthcoming. “Come on.”
Grudgingly, I allow her to lead me out into the hallway where I let my emotions get the better of me.
Mom always taught me not to rely on any man but to carve my own path in life.
Well…looks like she was right. In the span of an hour, the two men who hold my heart—for whom I would easily have done anything—chose to turn their backs on me.
It’s not even that I’m all that disappointed: how could I be if I was already half expecting this for an outcome?
But I am hurt, although that might be a bit of an understatement. Heartbroken is probably closer to the truth.
“I don’t know why I’m bawling,” I mumble, keeping my head low so my hair covers at least part of my face from nosy passersby.
“Well…let me see,” Savvy offers. “Your business was torched, your home is unlivable, a violent gang is on your heels, your brother was kidnapped before your eyes, your boyfriend walked out on you—probably just needed some time to process, but still—and now your brother is laying yet another guilt trip on you. I say you’ve earned a good cry. ”
I wipe my nose with the sleeve of my sweater. Not exactly ladylike, but neither is walking around with tears and snot running down my face.
“I know what you need, a good hug,” my friend declares, abruptly turning to wrap me in a tight hold.
I indulge for a moment before disentangling myself. “What I could use is some puppy snuggles.”
Oh no…Ragnar.
We left home this morning thinking we’d be back by lunch. That poor dog has been alone all day. With everything going on, I totally forgot about him. I wince at the thought of all the damage he could’ve done to Hugo’s house in that time.
“I’ve gotta go,” I blurt out, beelining it for the exit. “Ragnar’s been alone all day,” I add over my shoulder.
“Hold up,” Savvy calls behind me. “I can’t leave your brother and you can’t go alone; you don’t have wheels. Let me call someone.”
Ten agonizingly long minutes later, when I see KC pull up outside the hospital in his patrol car, I dart outside and jump into the passenger seat. KC was about to get out, but I tap my hand on the dashboard.
“We’ve gotta go.”
“Just a minute.”
Savvy followed me outside at a slower pace and walks over to the driver’s side where KC rolls down his window.
“Give her a ride to Hugo’s place and walk her to the door. Then I want you to wait outside until Battaglia’s guys show up, and after that I need you back here.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
“You…” Savvy points at me. “Stay inside and lock up until Hugo gets there. Understood?” she orders sternly.
“Yeah, yeah, fine. Can we go?”
The smell hits me the moment I walk in the door, and I brace myself for what I’ll find as I punch the code to set the alarm.
Walking through to the living room, I groan when at first glance I notice white fluff on the couch and the floor around it, and trailing down the stairs is a strip of toilet paper.
When I move farther into the room, something crunches under my foot, and I bend down to pick up about two-thirds of a well-chewed remote control.
There is evidence of Ragnar everywhere, including the big dump he took in front of the back door, but no sign of him. I quickly clean up the poop and turn on the exhaust fan over the stove, hoping it’ll help get rid of the smell.
Considering he’s been alone for about eight hours now; the damage is relatively minimal.
At least down here. A throw pillow, obviously the remote, somebody’s gym sock, a Tupperware container holding butter Hugo kept on the counter—the butter eaten, I presume— and, so far, one toilet roll, but I haven’t been upstairs yet.
I gather the toilet paper as I head up the steps, discovering a half-chewed bar of soap on the landing.
The bedroom door I distinctly remember closing is open.
Scratches in the paint mar the bottom of the door and the post. I hold my breath as I stick my head inside, and am surprised to find the room virtually untouched, other than the dog, splayed out in the middle of the bed, comatose on top of my sleep shirt.
At my, “Hey, boy,” he flips over and lifts his head, one ear inside out. Then with a happy bark, he leaps off and almost knocks me on my ass.
“Do you need to go outside?” I ask him as I give him a good rub.
Feeling lucky I can easily fix or replace what he damaged, I follow him downstairs, where I find him already waiting by the kitchen door.
I punch the code into the keypad by the door before I open it, letting Ragnar bound outside to do his business, while I start picking up the decimated throw pillow and various bits of plastic off the floor.
The garbage can under the sink is close to overflowing by the time I stuff everything in, so I pull out the bag, tie it up, and carry it out the back.
Hugo parks his rolling bins on the side of the deck, so I head down the two steps and drop the bag in the bin.
I’m just closing the lid when Ragnar comes out of nowhere and darts past me.
He jumps up against the wooden fence separating Hugo’s property and his neighbors, and starts barking his head off.
It’s dark, the only light out here comes from inside the house, and I can’t see what he’s barking at—for all I know the neighbor is out there or some kind of animal—but it’s suddenly making me feel very uneasy.
Invisible fingers creep up my back and I’m already retreating up the steps to the back door when I try to call the dog back.
“Come on, boy. Let’s go. Inside! Ragnar, come!”
When he finally turns and comes bounding back, I peer beyond him into the shadows and just catch sight of someone climbing over the fence. Panicked, I rush the dog inside and slam the door, my fingers shaking as I try to throw the lock and arm the alarm.
I jump when Ragnar starts barking again, running for the front door, where someone starts banging on the other side. Fueled by fear and adrenaline, I run after the dog, scoop him up in my arms, and dart up the stairs where I lock us into the bathroom.
Ragnar is still growling from deep in his chest, and I’m shaking so hard, my teeth start to chatter. My hand digs for my phone in my pocket, only to discover I never took it out of my purse, which is still on the hall table by the front door.
At the sound of a loud crash and glass breaking from downstairs, Ragnar immediately wrestles loose and starts barking at the door, but I wedge myself between the toilet and the tub, my heart lodged in my throat.
Hugo
“She was in an impossible situation, you realize that, right?”
I’m surprised that comes from Althof. He never struck me as a particularly sensitive guy but, apparently, he’s picking up on some remaining negative vibes I must be sending out. I really need to check that.
Still, it irks me he feels he needs to defend Bess to me.
“Of course I get that.”
Not what you’d call a gracious response, but I’m trying to fucking roll with the punches here. Give me a break.
“You know what this means,” Mancuso interjects. “She’s in as much danger as her brother is. If Shane Lee knows Ken killed Joon, and why, and he’s aware Bess knew about it the entire time, he’s gonna hold her equally responsible. These guys don’t mess around with people they feel wronged them.”
“But in that case, why this cloak-and-dagger game? Why not put a straight hit out on her instead of lighting a fire when she’s not even there?
” Rick puts forward. “Or for that matter, why not shoot Ken right where he stood on the sidewalk instead of going to the effort of having him snatched off the street.”
All good questions, and now I really feel fucking stupid for having walked out on Bess at the hospital. I was so hot under the collar, I never even thought through the implications of the bombshell she dropped. Some fucking protector I am.
Mancuso speaks up, “Because I suspect Shane Lee wants to do the honors himself, and he wanted a chance to have both Ken and Bess in front of him for maximum effect. We were right in thinking they were using Bess to flush out her brother, since he was the more elusive one, and probably counted on being able to pick her up easily once they had him. My guess? He’d have made Ken watch them violate and then kill his sister, before killing him. The ultimate revenge.”
The picture he paints is too vivid in my mind and I slam my fist into the wall in a rage.
“Real sensitive, Mancuso,” Althof observes in a deadpan voice. “You must be a barrel of laughs at parties.”
“Shit. Sorry, man,” the agent apologizes, and then adds, “I’ve gotta take this,” when his phone starts ringing.
“I’m off,” I announce, heading for the door.
The need to get to Bess is burning a hole in my gut.
“Where to?” Rick calls after me.
“To grab Bess at the hospital.”
No way I’m going to leave her in close proximity to her brother and make it too easy for those Lotus Squad fuckers to snatch them both. She’ll be safer the farther I can keep her from Ken.
“The hospital?” Brenda, who was lurking in the hallway, pipes up. “She’s not there anymore. KC just called in; he gave her a ride to your house.”
“Thanks,” I mumble, brushing past her in my hurry to get home.