Chapter 17
Holding his gun steady, Dane paused a few beats, stretching out the silence, and extended his arm so that the gun was closer to Henrique’s head.
He said nothing and breathed, slow and controlled.
He needed to stall their exit long enough for their reinforcements to get in place.
And he needed to extract some kind of admission from Floyd.
“What’s this all about, Floyd? You kidnapped Shana to get to me? Why?”
Floyd laughed. Of course. Then with a nod of his head in Henrique’s direction he said, “It was him. All him. I would have dropped you at the Black Cigar and called it a day if it were up to me.”
“Why?” Shana asked.
“Shut up,” Henrique hissed. Floyd laughed again. Dane heard the distinct and melodic note of hysteria rising. He braced himself, braced the Glock.
“Don’t worry Henrique. We either walk out of here and be on our way, or we end up in body bags. I don’t even care which. As long as I take Blaise with me.”
“Damn it—Why?” Shana said louder. She shifted on her feet. The two henchmen with guns drifted back a half step. They probably hadn’t even realized it.
“The oldest motive in the book.”
“You fool,” Henrique said.
“Maria.” Dane spoke quietly. “There was never anything—”
“Save it, cowboy. It didn’t matter what you thought, how you felt, what you said or did.
She was in love, you see. And she wasn’t going to change her mind.
So I let her stay with you that night. She wanted to be there, you know.
No amount of reason or sense could talk her out of it.
She wanted to be at the takedown by your side.
I knew she was a lost cause. I knew you did … nothing.”
Shana nearly shrieked, “Then why are you after Dane now after all these years you crazy bastard?” Her gun moved up and down, but never wavered off target, only choosing between his head and his heart.
Floyd shrugged. “Because I’m not a stupid man, I’m a patient man.
” He turned to Henrique. “Because an opportunity presented itself. I was working with Tavares on a project—to help me fund my impending retirement—and he talked about you Shana. He wanted you for his prize. He had special plans for you. So when Oscar told me you were partners with Dane it all fell into place. Practically fell into my lap.”
It was time to pull the plug on this melodrama. Dane knew they had more than enough to convict Floyd and he’d turn on Henrique and company in a flash since he already had. Floyd had gone off the deep end. Officially. Now Dane only needed to signal their back-ups.
He figured they’d come in the back door since they witnessed the takedown of the back door guard, the standoff and the confession.
At the same moment Dane was about to step backwards, he heard the unmistakable sound of a trigger partially engaging.
It was Shana’s gun. That small but monumental sound caused Henrique to take his eyes off Floyd.
More importantly, Dane observed from his peripheral line of sight that the two sentries also turned their attention to Shana.
The sudden lurch into jackhammer speed of Dane’s heart made him swear to himself. He hit the panic button on his watch and counted to three in his head.
First, the back door banged open loudly.
Second, Henrique’s two men spun toward the back hall, guns pointing.
And third, but almost simultaneously, Dane wrapped an arm around Shana and pulled her to the floor with him.
As he did this he heard Oscar and Cap shouting and he saw Floyd jump to his feet and go for his gun. Henrique stayed where he was.
No way was Dane going to let Floyd shoot straight.
He jumped to his feet and pushed Floyd back over his chair, shoving the man’s shooting arm as Floyd took his shot.
It hit the ceiling. At the same time, the two sentries started shooting in earnest and Henrique took to the floor, knocking the table over for cover.
The Tavares men from out front stormed inside and both Dane and Shana scrambled to get into shooting position.
Between them, they managed to put the two men down without killing them.
Dane hit the shooting arm of one of the men and Shana hit the other man’s gun from his grip, seriously tearing up his hand in the process.
When Dane turned to check on Floyd, he saw that Oscar had him by the collar, but before he realized it, before he had a chance to react, he turned back and saw Henrique attempting to get Shana in a chokehold and wielding a knife as he dragged her toward the front door.
Dane stopped thinking and let instinct take over his actions.
Gaining his balance, he lunged forward and caught up with Henrique as the man turned toward the door and was about to push outside while Shana struggled against him.
Where the hell was her gun? How the hell had she let the old man get a jump on her?
Dane watched the glint of the knife and lasered in on it, heedless of anything but the need to get the knife away from Shana’s neck, away from her face, where the blade flashed and threatened within millimeters.
From behind, Dane grabbed for Henrique’s knife hand and pulled it away with every ounce of his determination. The man’s hand came free of its grip on Shana. And then it came slashing around toward Dane.
Shana screamed and Dane put up his forearm in defense.
The move worked well to protect his neck and vital organs, but his arm was sliced and bled profusely.
Using the weight of his body, Dane pushed the older man out the door and slammed him onto the cement.
As Henrique climbed back to his feet, with the knife still in one hand, his eyes wild and his teeth bared, Dane turned sideways.
This time he would block the knife with his foot or kick Henrique into next week, or both.
It turned out that Henrique was slower than Dane and Dane’s kick landed square in the man’s jaw before he had a chance to slash with the knife. This time when Henrique fell, he didn’t get up. Shana had burst through the door and rushed to him. They both bent over the inert man.
“Let’s drag him back inside,” Dane said. The sweat from his forehead dripped. He felt slimy and looked down at his shirt and his arm. It was gruesome. Blood-soaked and dripping. Shana looked too.
She said, “Are you crazy?” Then she acted.
She ripped the other sleeve off his shirt and wrapped it around his wound and said, “You’re a mess. We’ll let the police take care of Henrique.”
With Shana holding onto him, Dane went to go back inside. Instead, Cap burst through the door, breathless.
“Oscar has Floyd tied up.” Cap took a breath. “The other two men are dead.”
Relief flooded through Dane with the knowledge that he could stop.
He didn’t have to go in and fight again.
Shana held onto him and although his wound stung like hell and he’d lost some blood, he kept his forearm raised and immobile and knew it would keep.
He didn’t need her to hold him up, but he didn’t bother telling her that.
“What happened to you?” Cap approached and looked closely at his arm.
“We need to get him to the hospital. Henrique got him with his knife.” She stopped and Dane could swear her eyes glittered with what could be tears—she was emotional. She took a breath.
“A knife that was meant for me.” Her voice was back to its usual strong, sure Shana the queen tone.
Dane turned when a car screeched to a halt at the curb near them. Acer jumped out the passenger door. The kid—Ronnie Ryan—was driving.
“The police are on the way. What the hell happened to you?” Acer jogged toward them and stopped in front of Dane and did the same close examination of his arm that Cap had done.
“It’s not a mortal wound. I’m fine,” he said.
They heard police sirens coming in from a few blocks away.
“Sorry we’re late to the party,” Acer said.
“Where have you been?” Dane asked. Ronnie approached, but he didn’t give him the close examination that Cap and Acer had. He looked white.
“The police lines at headquarters were down. I called Ronnie for a ride and we swung by the station to notify them about the trouble on our way here.”
Oscar came out the door then to the now crowded sidewalk, dragging Floyd, who had his arms and hands bound with duct tape.
“Duct tape?” Dane said.
“I’m an old-fashioned guy. I like it better than plastic ties. More readily available worldwide.”
Cap slapped Oscar on the back. Floyd’s mouth had been covered with tape, but he stared at Dane and Dane knew exactly what the man was thinking. The hate and the depravity came through loud and clear. Dane gave him a mild, almost disinterested look in return. That’s all the man deserved now.
A taxi screeched to a halt at the curb nearby and David and O’Keefe jumped out.
They jogged in the direction of the growing crowd surrounding Dane and Shana and the crime scene.
There were back slaps of a quick exchange of greetings, but all eyes fell back to Dane.
He supposed it was the blood dripping from his arm.
“What happened to you?” Oscar said. Dane rolled his eyes.
Shana said, “He was cut by Henrique.” She glanced down at the man who remained prone on the sidewalk nearby. “Do you have any more duct tape?”
“I’ll be happy to take care of that,” David said. Oscar retrieved the roll from his pocket and gave it to David.
Shana looked at Dane. “I’m calling the ambulance. I’m going with you to the emergency room.” She made the call.
“We’ll have to wait for the police. We need to give our statements—”
“Don’t worry about that. We’ll cover it,” Chief O’Keefe said. “They can get your statement later or they can go to the hospital and get it. You need to get that arm stitched up before you lose any more blood. The sidewalk is already a mess.”
Dane nodded at the man, acknowledging his form of apology.
“He’s right,” Acer said. “Besides, you look terrible. You’re scaring the kid.”