Chapter 25
Ethan
Pawing through her underwear drawer, my ass.
At this point, even though I didn’t have an underwear fetish, I was so fixated on Kat that if I had her underwear drawer in front of me, I’d rifle through it.
Hell, yeah, just to feel closer to her. And I’d be aroused by whatever I found, even simple white stretch-cotton briefs, bought six to the pack, because she was such a thrifty, practical woman.
Her fabulous ass would make those white cotton briefs look incredibly sexy.
I pulled into a coffee shop parking lot and called Arch. “Any news?” I asked.
“Sure,” he said. “I can confirm the truth of your friend’s story.
I’ve matched the photos, and I’m sure it’s her.
I wasn’t able to unseal her new identity, but I did see old pictures of Francesca Lovero, along with her older sister Rafaella Lovero, deceased, and her younger sister, Gabriella Lovero, also deceased. Definitely the same person.”
Francesca. So that was Kat’s old name. Pretty, but Kat suited her better now. It was short, crisp, no-nonsense, sharp. Cat-like. Perfect for her.
“It happened in Jersey City,” Arch said. “The killer was a guy named Tony Petruzzi, Jr. Heir to a local boss, Tony Petruzzi, Sr. He’s up for parole very soon.”
“No shit. After killing his girlfriend and a little kid? Just fourteen years?”
“He wangled a reduced sentence. His defense attorneys spun the older girl, Rafaella, into a slutty femme fatale who cheated and drove Tony mad with jealousy. Boys will be boys, yada yada, the usual bullshit, in spite of Francesca’s testimony.
He’ll be out of prison soon. Your girlfriend had better be on the lookout for him. ”
“Thanks, Arch. I appreciate that.”
“So, are we square?” Arch asked hopefully.
I laughed. “No,” I told him. “When you save my life, or the life of someone close to me, we’ll be square. Until then, we’re just having a conversation. Good talking to you, Arch.”
Arch made a disgusted sound, and hung up.
That gave me plenty of interesting things to think about while I made my way to Jordan Meechum’s place on Lake Washington.
There had been no movement at Hugh Clemens’ or Julia Wright’s houses, so I just moved on down the company masthead while mulling on how to deal with Tony Petruzzi, Jr. I was going to deep dive into that worthless shithead’s life prospects first chance I got.
See who else besides Kat was still angry at him, and why.
Once Tony Petruzzi walked out those gates, he was going to be so fucking sorry.
He’d look back on his prison days like a dream of happiness.
A car waited outside Jordan Meechum’s lavish lakefront home. It was a dusty old SUV with a tired middle-aged woman at the wheel. Neither car nor driver matched the house. A ride-share, then. Meechum was airport bound. I’d gotten here just in time.
I rang the doorbell. The door jerked open. “I told you to wait!” someone bitched.
I shoved the door wider, sending Meechum stumbling back into his foyer with a squawk, arms pinwheeling. I seized his throat. “I’m not your driver, shithead.”
Jordan Meechum cringed against the wall. He was tall and skinny, with longish dark hair worn in a messy man bun. “Oh fuck. Ethan Masters?”
“Yeah. A visit from the crypt. Surprised to see me, Meechum?”
“Look, I had nothing to do with—”
“With what? What did they offer you? Who was your contact person? Tell me all of it, and maybe you’ll survive. Maybe you’ll even make it to the airport.”
“I didn’t have contact with them!” Meechum wailed.
“I swear to Christ! That was all Hugh! I was just trying to make the business work, and we had a shortfall, and Hugh says he got this amazing opportunity, this…this chunk of money, free and clear, enough to solve our problems. Just for doing this random favor for this woman he met!”
“Which involved luring me into that building, I take it,” I said grimly.
“Well, yes. But we had no idea they were going to try to hurt you! No fucking clue! We were as horrified as—”
“Shut the fuck up. You didn’t speculate at all as to why they wanted me in place? You never asked yourself why they were willing to pay so much?”
“I…I swear, I didn’t—”
“Think. Yeah. You were morons.”
“Yes,” Meechum said, his voice strangled. “A moron, sure, but not a killer. I never wanted to hurt anybody.”
“Give me the contact info,” I said.
His face tightened, bracing for a blow. “I don’t have it.” His voice was tiny. “That was Hugh’s side of things. He was going to get us the money.”
“Okay, then,” I said. “Show me the money. Let me see where it came from.”
“Um…that was supposed to come in after Hugh delivered the p-p-package,” Meechum admitted. “And, uh…clearly, he never did. You got away. So…ah…”
I laughed, grimly. “They stiffed you, huh? Can’t say I feel terribly sorry for you, under the circumstances.”
Meechum swallowed convulsively, his Adam’s apple bobbing against the unrelenting pressure of my fist. “I don’t suppose you would,” he said tightly.
“You’re telling me you’re useless to me,” I said. “Very unfortunate. For you.”
Meechum squeezed his eyes shut and nodded. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.
I ground my fist tighter against his throat. “Where do I find Hugh?”
“I have no idea,” Meechum said shakily. “I really don’t.”
I ground my teeth. “Listen carefully, Meechum. I’m not the one ruining your life. But Hugh got mixed up with the people who are ruining mine. So this is the deal. If you can lead me to Hugh, maybe you’ll get a free pass for your part in this shitshow.”
“I genuinely don’t know,” Meechum said, through chattering teeth. “I haven’t heard from him since the day before yesterday, right after, ah…”
“Right after you and Hugh set me up to die,” I said. “Radio silence from him?”
“Yeah. Julia, too. Their phones go to voice mail. I even went to his house, but he wasn’t there.” Meechum began edging sideways, clawing at my hand again. “Since I can’t really be of any more help to you, um, I might as well—”
I tightened my fist on his shirt collar and lifted him off his feet.
“Maybe I haven’t made myself clear,” I said.
“You fucked up. I could tear you to pieces, but I happen to be busy. Or I will be, anyway, if you help me find Hugh. If you don’t, then I have nothing better to do than make you suffer the tortures of the damned. ”
Meechum’s face was pinched and miserable. I didn’t enjoy bullying people, but he deserved to be shit-scared. I’d hurt him if I had to, but I took no pleasure in it, so I put on my meanest face. The one I’d used to keep my siblings in line, back in the day.
“Fuck,” Meechum quavered. “I can’t be sure, but if he hasn’t left the country, he’s probably at his mom’s house, at the lake. He goes there all the time.”
“What lake?”
“Lake Sammamish, in Bellevue. I’ve been there, for weekends, parties.”
“If you’ve been there, you have the GPS coordinates on your phone.”
Meechum dug his phone out of the pocket of his cargo pants, and stabbed at the screen with a trembling finger. “So, this is it, for me,” he quavered. “My life is over.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. I snatched the phone from his hand, and memorized the coordinates.
“Life as you know it, yes,” I told him. “Follow the news from wherever you go. If you hear about me finding and killing the people who kidnapped my brother, then you’re safe from those fuckheads who hired you guys. That’ll be your all-clear.”
“And, uh…what are your odds of doing that?” he asked, hopefully.
“Not great,” I admitted. “But not zero. I will mow those fuckers down like grass, or die trying. But if I do succeed, and you come back to the country? Do not ever try to work in tech again. You got that?”
He blinked. “But…but…it’s the only thing that I—”
“Be a high school math teacher,” I said, “Open a bakery. Repair bicycles. Grow organic marijuana. I don’t give a shit, as long as it’s not in my face. But if I hear about you working anywhere in the tech sector, I will destroy you.”
He nodded frantically. “Yeah. Got it. Absolutely. Understood.”
I placed the phone back in his hand. “Is your plane ticket on that phone?”
“Y-y-yes,” he faltered. “Why?”
“Your enemies will be able to track where you go with it, Meechum,” I said. “Unless this is a brand-new phone, registered with brand new identity, for which you also have a valid passport.”
He looked desperate. “I…I…ah…”
“Never mind.” I didn’t have time to educate a blithering dickhead who had almost gotten me and Kat killed. “They’ll probably be too busy fucking with me to bother fucking with you. You can cling to that hope.”
He looked encouraged. “You think?”
I laughed in his face. “Fuck off, Meechum. You’d better hope we never meet again.” I grabbed the bag in the foyer and shoved it at him. “Now get lost.”
He practically stumbled over his own feet running out the door, his wheeled suitcase bouncing in one hand, phone clutched in the other. I was glad to see him go.
It didn’t take long to get to Lake Sammamish. I parked on the street, since a black Mercedes was parked in the driveway. The car door hung wide open.
The place was very fancy, lots of artful stacked glass and steel cubes. The lake was on the other side of the house. I glimpsed it through the trees, and through the transparent house, itself. The front door hung slightly open. Never a good sign.
I walked in and looked around. The place was in disarray. Things knocked over, a glass coffee table smashed. The wind blew right into the place. A picture window had been shattered. The lot was big, so maybe the neighbors were too far away to hear it.
I drew my SIG P226 from the holster under my jacket, even though I was pretty sure whatever had happened here was long over. I stole quietly through the place. Nudged the door open with my shoe. There was blood. Not fresh. My boots crunched on broken glass as I followed the dark droplets.