Chapter Fourteen
San Diego, California
Baz was waiting for them outside Paolo’s house.
“Nicchi’s inside,” he said. “This isn’t good, guys.”
It was a nice place, nicer than the house Akiko owned, and Kit wondered how Paolo afforded it. Maybe he couldn’t. Maybe that was why he wanted to run his own charters in addition to being Akiko’s first mate.
Kit couldn’t put aside the image of Akiko’s photos on a dead woman’s bedroom wall. What the hell is going on?
Focus. “Didn’t think it would be good,” she murmured. “Paolo being dead and all.”
Baz frowned at her, his concern obvious. “We’re going to figure this out. In the meantime, Akiko will have twenty-four-hour protection. Right, Sam?”
“Yes. I talked to Harlan, and Anson’s assigned some of his employees to accompany them everywhere. He doesn’t run a bodyguard company like Nicchi does, but most of his guys are former law enforcement or military or both.” He cupped Kit’s face in both hands. “Harlan and Akiko are safe.”
“I know.” She leaned into his touch, his hands warm. He’d made sure that Harlan was aware of the newest threat to Akiko, and then he’d called Baz to update him as well.
Sam had been thorough and authoritative. And here. Above everything else, he was here, at her side. She rested her forehead on his chest. He wasn’t big and brawny like Ricky Nicchi, but she felt far safer with Sam Reeves than she’d felt with any other man.
Maybe even her father. That was a startling thought. When had Sam become so completely…everything?
“Thank you,” she whispered. “For not leaving me.”
“Never,” he whispered back. “I told you, you’re stuck with me. Now, we need to go inside. I don’t like you being out here in the open. Let’s go check on Nicchi.”
“I haven’t been inside yet,” Baz said as he led them up Paolo’s sidewalk.
“I don’t want to call this in until you’ve had a chance to talk to Nicchi, so me staying outside means I have plausible deniability.
” He rapped on the door, then pushed the door open when Nicchi didn’t answer.
“Nicchi? It’s Constantine, McKittrick, and Reeves. ”
“Come.” The word was rough and broken and Kit’s heart hurt.
Riccardo Nicchi might have been a tough guy, but his heart was breaking, and Kit knew what that felt like. She knew the pain of losing a sibling to murder.
“Ricky?” she called softly. “Where are you?”
“Kitchen.”
She walked carefully through the house, noticing the mess. Everything was upended, drawers emptied, sofa cushions sliced to shreds.
Just like in Ito’s condo and in Mary’s house, someone had been looking for something.
She wondered if they’d found it.
Nicchi was sitting at the kitchen table, his face in his hands. Kit touched his shoulder gently. Briefly. “I’m sorry, Ricky.”
Nicchi nodded. “He’s in the pantry.”
Kit pulled on a pair of gloves and opened the pantry door. And grimaced.
“Oh, Paolo,” she whispered. What did they do to you?
Paolo had been beaten severely. If she hadn’t known him for years, she might not have recognized his face. That probably hadn’t killed him, though.
The cause of death was most likely the bullet hole in his forehead. Just like with Mary Sherman. And Laurette Curry.
But the beating was more reminiscent of Edwin Ito. She backed out of the pantry and closed the door. “We need to call this in, Ricky.”
“I know.”
Sam had a hand on his shoulder and Baz was standing at the back door, staring out into the backyard.
“Kit,” Baz said. “Come here.”
She did, taking her place at his side. “What?”
“That shed out there. The door’s been forced open.”
“It’s empty,” Nicchi said dully. “I already checked. Smells like gun oil.”
“Did Paolo own a gun?” Kit asked.
“Of course he did. Carried it, too. Every time he went out with your sister on a charter. She never knew.”
Kit sighed. “He was protecting her.”
“Yeah.”
She moved to the table, leaning her hip against it. “What was someone looking for in his living room?”
Nicchi shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“You think he got mixed up in something?” Sam asked her.
“Yeah. And that he wanted to do night runs on Akiko’s boat doesn’t bode well.”
“I didn’t know about the night runs,” Nicchi said. “Not until your sister mentioned it at the hospital, early this morning.”
“We need to call this in, but before we do, I need some answers, Ricky. Your brother is dead, and so is Leo Sherman’s mistress.”
Nicchi closed his eyes. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” Kit said. “But in her bedroom were photos of Akiko, tacked to the wall.”
Nicchi’s eyes opened and they were filled with quiet fear. “Why?”
“Don’t know. But we do know that there was a third man in your little meeting with Mary Sherman. Who was he?”
Shock flickered in Nicchi’s dark eyes before they went expressionless and cold. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
His mouth tightening into a grim line, Sam dropped his hand from Nicchi’s shoulder. “Liar,” he said quietly.
“I don’t know,” Nicchi repeated. “Call me a liar all you want, but I do not know.”
Kit’s temper snapped. “Listen, you sonofabitch. You do know and you will tell me.”
Nicchi’s eyes narrowed. “Or what, Detective? Can I still call you that? Seeing as how you’re suspended?”
Kit wanted to hurt him. Wanted to claw his eyes out. But then she stopped herself.
That’s what he wants. He wanted her to lose her temper. Because Nicchi was very good at distraction and redirection. So she drew a breath, took out her phone, and dialed Meghan Lennox.
“We have another body,” Kit said when the woman picked up. “Paolo Feliciano. He’s Riccardo Nicchi’s brother.”
“What?” Lennox demanded. “How did he die?”
“Bullet to the head after he was beaten severely.”
Nicchi made a wounded noise. Kit had to steel herself to continue, because the part of her that still mourned Wren wanted to comfort him.
“Someone was searching for something,” she added. “Nicchi claims not to know what that was.”
“I don’t,” Nicchi said between clenched teeth.
“He also says he doesn’t know the third man who was with Mary Sherman, so I don’t believe anything he says.”
Rage transformed Nicchi’s face and Kit felt a moment of true fear. She was armed, but he was huge.
“Don’t even think about it,” Baz said quietly. He’d pressed the muzzle of his gun to the back of Nicchi’s head. “I will blow your fucking head off if you lift one single finger to hurt her.”
Sam took a few steps back, whirling to face the front door. “Someone’s—”
The door opened and a man Kit had never seen sauntered in like he owned the place. He held a badge in one hand and a gun in the other.
“Special Agent Brewer, ATF,” he announced. “Stand down, Constantine.”
Baz didn’t move a muscle. “Get his badge number and call him in to Navarro,” he told Kit. “I’m not letting Nicchi go until I know this guy is legit.”
“I want to see a warrant,” Kit said, then snatched it from the special agent’s hand when he produced it.
“McKittrick?” Lennox demanded and Kit startled. She’d forgotten she was on the phone. “Kit? Are you okay?”
“I am. But we have a new wrinkle. A guy claiming to be ATF just showed up. He’s got a warrant. It looks official.”
Lennox whistled. “Wow. You don’t do things halfway, do you?”
Kit had the absurd urge to laugh. “I guess not.”
“Who is that?” Brewer asked with a frown.
“Detective Lennox, SDPD,” Kit said. “She’s primary on this case.”
“I thought Alan West was primary,” Brewer said.
“He’s my partner,” Lennox said. “Why would you know that?”
Brewer pursed his lips.
“He’s not going to tell us,” Kit told Lennox. “I’m going to keep you on the line, on speaker, so you can bear witness. And then I’m going to use Sam’s phone to call Navarro.”
Sam held out his phone. He’d already dialed Navarro’s number and had it on speaker.
“Dr. Reeves,” Navarro said. “Why are you calling me?”
Kit sighed. “He’s with me and Baz.”
Navarro sighed as well. “Of course he is. Why are you calling me, McKittrick? You’re on suspension.”
“I am aware.” And I’ll be on double-triple suspension after this.
“Long story short, Paolo Feliciano is dead, we’re here in his house with Ricky Nicchi who claims not to know who the third man with Mary Sherman was, and now we have some guy named Brewer who claims to be ATF.
He just arrived, he has a gun, and he’s telling us to stand down. ”
“Don’t move,” Navarro growled. “Do not move a fucking muscle. One of you assholes text me the address and the ATF agent’s badge number. I’m on my way.”
“I’ve already called Lennox,” Kit said. “She’s on her way as well.”
“Then we’ll have a fucking party,” Navarro said sarcastically and ended the call.
“Your life is so much fun,” Lennox said through the speaker. “What’s your badge number, Special Agent Brewer?”
Brewer hadn’t lowered his gun. He recited his badge number and Kit noted it in her phone.
“I’ll have him checked out on my way over there,” Lennox said. “Just…sit tight.”
Kit rolled her eyes. “We’re not going anywhere, right, Nicchi?”
Nicchi closed his eyes again and clenched his massive fists on the tabletop. “Why are you here, Special Agent Brewer?”
“Looking for Paolo, but I understand I’m too late.”
“Fuck off,” Nicchi snarled.
“Temper, temper,” Brewer said. “Your brother was smuggling guns on that boat he works on. Or he was attempting to. He made a run last night, but no guns changed hands.”
Kit managed not to visibly react, but her gut was suddenly churning. Paolo was using Akiko’s boat to smuggle guns? He’d dragged Akiko into his mess, and now he was dead for his trouble. He’d put Akiko in danger. Sonofabitch.
“I think the guns are gone,” Kit said calmly. “Nicchi here says the shed smells like gun oil, but it’s empty.”
The so-called agent swore softly.
Kit studied him. “Why are you here now, Special Agent Brewer? Why today?”
Brewer shook his head. “Need-to-know, Detective.”
Kit wanted to hit him, too. “For fuck’s sake,” she muttered. “Can you tell me if he used my sister’s boat to successfully smuggle guns at any time?”
“We don’t believe so.”