Chapter 4
Chapter
Four
CONNOR
Zoe sits next to me, huddled in a puffer coat, her long legs tucked to the side. She shifts in the seat. Is her ass sore? I was firm, but not brutal.
“Was that the first time you’ve been spanked?”
She turns her face to look at me. Her cheeks have lost their beautiful flush. When she was blushing and breathless I wanted to throw her on the bed and fuck her until she screamed my name. I held back because this is business, but my cock is still waiting for more of her.
“Yes, it was.” She pushes a runaway curl over her shoulder, then tucks it into the puffy band holding the rest back. “I take it that it wasn’t your first time doing the spanking.”
“No.”
“Is this what you do to everyone you want information from?”
My gaze slides to her. “I’m sure you know it’s not.”
“With guys, it’s a beating? There’s a guy from the neighborhood, Ray. There was a rumor that he robbed the corner store. A couple nights later someone found Ray unconscious and bloody in an alley. He was hospitalized. Just got out, in fact. Someone said that was C Crue.”
“The guy who robbed the corner store cold-cocked old Mr. Caulley who was working the register. The man’s eighty-two.
The guy kicked him in the chest, breaking four of his ribs.
Mr. Caulley ended up in the hospital for a couple nights too, but he’s doing all right.
Getting around a little slower, but he’ll manage.
So maybe whoever robbed that store had a beating coming. ”
She nods. “We heard that Mr. Caulley fell down during the robbery. No one said he was kicked or that he had broken ribs.”
“Mr. Caulley probably didn’t tell people.”
“But he told you?”
I pause. I wouldn’t usually keep going, but I decide that if I make sure she gets that we’re violent with violent people she’ll be more likely to give me the names I want.
“He as good as told me. Trick talked to him,” I say.
I don’t mention that it was Anvil who wanted the details.
Apparently as a little kid Anvil had nothing, and Mr. Caulley let him buy things ‘on credit.’ Caulley never kept track of the gum or candy bars he let ‘Vil take. He just put a buck of his own money in the register to cover it. Most kids wouldn’t have kept track either, but Anvil did and anytime he got any money, maybe from a chore he did for a neighbor, he went in and paid off his debt.
Apparently it went on like that until Anvil was making enough money from odd jobs to always have cash in his pocket.
Almost no one had cut Anvil a break as a kid, so Ray Gaines kicking Caulley in the ribs while the old man was down on the ground was like Gaines spitting on a six-year-old Anvil. And mob enforcer Anvil, who can deadlift five hundred pounds, was not having it.
“Ray Gaines is a meth head,” Zoe says.
“Your point being?”
“No point really. Just saying that I’m not sure he even knows what he’s doing half the time.
I’m glad Mr. Caulley is okay though. He’s so nice.
” She clasps her hands in her lap, the black nail polish that she wore onstage as the blackbird still glossy and perfect.
“Is that how you deal with all thieves? Or just the ones that hurt elderly men?”
“I never said anyone from C Crue did anything to Gaines.”
A little smile plays at the corners of her wide, pretty mouth.
“Something funny?” I ask.
“No, I’m just relieved. If you were planning to kill me, there’d be no reason for you to deny the truth.”
My brows rise. She’d been worried I might kill her? Was that because she has a lot more to do with the robbery than she’s letting on? As a friend of Rachel’s she could’ve been at Palermo’s house and overhead things about our operation. Maybe it was intel from her that contributed to the planning.
We already considered that it might’ve been Frank who hit us, but it wasn’t the way he usually does things.
A two-man crew pulling the robbery? And our driver left wounded and alive?
Not likely. Usually it was at least a group of four hitting a shipment that size.
Also, on a Palermo operation, either no one gets shot or they’re all shot dead. Nah, this was something else.
From what the wounded driver said, the execution wasn’t smooth.
Seemed like maybe the guys were amateurs, and one of them was wounded by our guys.
Where is that guy now? Maybe dead. There’d been a lot of blood on the scene.
We’ll run down all the details. Eventually. And whatever Zoe is hiding is the key.
ZOE
The car sidles up to the giant gate that closes off the compound that is C Crue Central. Connor punches in a code and puts his fingerprint on the pad. The gate slides open and the Range Rover rolls forward past artfully clipped shrubs that line the driveway.
The paved stones widen and lead to the edge of an impressive lawn that’s complete with a pergola that has vines climbing up it like we’re on the Mediterranean.
C bought four lots in order to build this fenced-in complex, so he can live in the center of the city where he grew up and where he runs his ever-widening operation from.
The McCann mansion is made of beige stone and has turrets, making it look like a castle. I’ve heard the pool has a waterfall. I’ve always wanted to see the inside of this complex, but not under these circumstances where I’m pretty much a prisoner.
He parks, and I notice the other Range Rover with the C Crue 2 license plate. At least one of the other guys is inside. That makes me uncomfortable. I’ll be so outnumbered.
The entryway has a glass mosaic floor in black and shades of charcoal. It could be the print of a Versace dress.
“I like your floor,” I murmur.
He nods, leading me past a grand staircase and down a hall. Everything is luxe. It’s marble and thick wood and polished stone. It’s a guy’s sanctuary when the guy makes millions of dollars a month.
We enter a rec room with a pool table at the center.
The monstrous giant, Anvil, and Scott Patrick, aka Trick, are playing.
Both men are intimidating. Trick is as handsome as a model with his sandy brown hair, sea blue eyes, and perfect face.
He doesn’t look as deadly as Connor or Anvil, but he has a dangerous reputation, too.
Anvil leans over the table and takes his shot.
Trick, holding his cue, looks me over. “Nice dancing tonight,” he says.
“Thank you.”
His gaze flickers to C. “What’s the word?”
“Zoe and I are trying to work things out. As far as we can figure, someone might have left something in her place for safekeeping during a party.”
“Hmm,” Trick says, sinking a ball in a corner pocket. His next shot is a bank shot that looks impossible. He almost doesn’t make it, but the ball drops in. “When was it and who was there?”
“We’re getting to that now,” C says.
“Open party with a lot of strangers?” Trick asks, and his next shot doesn’t go.
I shake my head.
“She’s holding out? That’s an interesting play,” he says.
Anvil sinks one and then the eight ball. Trick pulls out a hundred-dollar bill and hands it to him.
“How long’s that bill been going back and forth tonight?” C asks.
At pool they’re apparently pretty evenly matched.
Trick shakes his head. “He’s a killer tonight. I’m down four hundred.”
“So, Zoe, who do you want to talk to next?” Connor asks. “I had my turn.”
I stiffen. “Connor,” I say, shaking my head.
Both Anvil and Trick focus their attention on me. Anvil scares me the most, but that’s only based on how he looks.
C rubs a strand of my hair between his thumb and finger.
“I’m not sure I can be rough enough with you to get what we need.
I’m inclined to get distracted where you’re concerned.
Maybe the two of them can convince you. Trick’s the best anyway at putting divergent stories together, and Anvil, well, no one holds out long when he’s—”
I stare into his eyes. “Don’t—please.”
“No?” he says. “So how am I going to convince you to talk? Should I bend you over that pool table, pull your tights down, and whip your ass with my belt?”
My heart slams against my ribs. I can’t bear to look at the other two men.
Would they watch? Would they join in the punishment?
What else might all three of them do? I can’t breathe.
I’ve never heard that they’ve forced a girl to have sex, but it doesn’t mean it hasn’t happened.
Sometimes girls don’t say what’s been done to them.
Sometimes girls can’t say what’s been done to them.
“I’m scared,” I whisper.
C inclines his head, whispering in my ear. “If you made a mistake, tell me now. I’ll let you make amends.” He nods. “We’ll figure something out. You’ll be all right. But you have to tell me the truth. All of it.”
“I don’t know who put the money in my apartment,” I whisper back, trembling. “I swear it. I’m not lying.”
“Give us a list of the people who were at the party at your place. No one innocent will get hurt. I give you my word.”
I don’t know what drives me to step forward. Fear, I guess, and a desperate need to believe him. I can’t escape, so the only thing that makes sense to my reeling mind is to stay close to Connor.
His arms slide around me. “Hey. It’s all right, baby.”
“I feel like a drink,” Trick says. “I’ll make a round.”
“Not in,” Anvil says.
“All right. A round minus one,” Trick says amiably. “You’ve got more mysterious business to attend to, huh, ‘Vil? Do I need to stick a GPS tracker in the sole of your boot?”
“Sure, if you want me to plant it up your ass,” Anvil murmurs.
I smile. This little bit of guy banter eases some of my tension.
“Here,” Connor says, putting me on the couch. “You’re going to drink, and you’re going to talk. Right?”
I nod.
Trick holds out a glass to me.
My hands are a little shaky as I take two big swallows of the Jack and Coke from a heavy tumbler.