Chapter 63 Chicago, 1927—Rick #2
Tavis slid his hand into the pocket of his tailored jacket, flashing a thick roll of bills. “I’m carrying nothing smaller than a hundred.”
Bowes didn’t hesitate. A wolfish grin spread across his face as he extended his meaty hand again. “You’ve got yourself a bet.”
The feel of the asshole’s sweaty palm caused an instant wave of nausea, like clasping a dead fish. Still, Rick swallowed his revulsion and did it for Penny. The second the grip released, he scrubbed his hand against his trousers.
The air thrummed with tension as ten powerful horses jigged and danced behind the spring-loaded starting gate.
The barrier snapped open with a crack, releasing a wave of raw power.
Hoofbeats drummed a furious cadence into the dirt, and almost immediately, the race dissolved into a fierce, two-horse war between the chestnut blaze of Red Fox and the number three silk.
Rick scanned his race card, finding the dark-brown bay’s name—Dolan.
Red Fox and Dolan stormed through the first turn, locked in a brutal embrace, neck and neck, until suddenly the number five horse—Scapa Flow—muscled his way to the front by a single, desperate head.
Bowes leaned in, his voice a smug sneer that cut through the roar of the crowd. “Your horse is making his move too early. It’s a demanding race. He’ll never make it.”
Rick ignored him, his eyes glued to the track, a silent prayer forming in his gut. He liked his horse’s odds. As they hit the backstretch, Red Fox coiled and then unleashed a flood of pent-up power. Rick pounded the rail, the vibration shooting up his arm and into his chest.
“Come on, Red Fox—don’t you quit on me now!
Without a single flick of the jockey’s whip, Red Fox shifted into another gear, opening a commanding lead that swallowed the distance.
“Keep going!” Rick bellowed.
While Scapa Flow and Dolan began to falter, their strides shortening, Red Fox surged clear of the competition, pulling further away, and a triumphant wave washed over Rick. Beside him, the sweat dripping down the sides of Bowes’s face wasn’t from the sun. It was slick beads of panic.
At the final turn, Rick roared above the din, “Red Fox is moving like a living machine!” The gap widened, growing to a commanding ten lengths as Red Fox devoured the final stretch completely alone, his powerful hooves tearing up muddy divots on the track.
On the punishing homestretch, Red Fox’s jockey urged the Thoroughbred for a last effort.
“Burn the track, Red Fox, burn it!” Rick shouted as his horse flew like a dark arrow to the wire.
The crowd erupted into a deafening roar as the stallion flashed across the finish line at least ten lengths ahead of a defeated Dolan, in a blistering, track-record-shattering 2:34.
A muscle in Bowes’s face tightened. “You have a preternatural eye for horseflesh, Mr. O’Grady. I will, of course, arrange the payment. Will you grant me a couple of hours?”
“You can find me at The Stevens Hotel,” Rick said. “Cash only, please.”
Bowes vanished, swallowed whole by the churning crowd.
“We’ll never see him again,” Rick stated.
“I say we will,” Tavis countered, a grin spreading across his face. “What’s the bet?”
“Food. I’m starving. Ready to go?”
“Should we at least look around for Clay?”
Rick gave an impatient wave. “We’ll meet in the lobby as planned.
He wants to be on his own. I don’t know what trouble he’ll stir up, but I know he’s sniffing out a story.
” Out of the corner of Rick’s eye, he spotted a man crouched behind a newspaper.
The paper shook slightly as the man occasionally glanced up, his eyes meeting Rick’s for a nervous second, before ducking back into hiding.
“We’ve got eyes on us, and whoever he is, he’s an amateur.”
“Where?”
“My four o’clock. How do you want to handle this cockroach?” Rick asked.
“Let’s go ask him.” Tavis strode over, snapped the newspaper from the man’s grip, and smashed it forcefully into the man’s face, then yanked it away again.
“If you’re watching us for Bowes, we’re going straight to the hotel.
Make the call. Or if you’re a spotter for some low-life planning to rob us, call him back and tell him to reconsider.
If he attacks, we’ll end it.” Then Tavis looked at Rick, his expression cold.
“Do you think this asshole got my message, or should we pound it into him?”
A flicker of raw terror crossed the man’s features. “Mr. Bowes,” he stuttered, his voice thin as brittle glass, “demanded to know every person you talked to and where you went.”
Tavis leaned in, his tone dangerously soft. “How about you tell us where your boss slithered off to?”
A sweat beaded on the informant’s brow. “I swear I don’t know where he is. He vanished.”
Tavis straightened. “Convenient. Tell me, how are you supposed to report to Mr. Bowes if you don’t know where he went?”
“He said he’d find me.”
Rick leaned in, growling. “At the dust-choked track, on a rain-slicked street, in some candlelit restaurant? Where, exactly?”
The man flinched. “He didn’t say.”
Rick peeled several crisp bills from his roll of cash and slapped them into the man’s sweaty palm.
“He didn’t hire you to glue your eyes to our backs.
He hired you to see if two old dogs like us could still spot a tail.
Go home. Kiss your kids goodnight. Hug your wife until her ribs crack.
Next time you take a job, demand specifics. ”
Rick didn’t waste time scanning the shadows for another surveillance team. He just assumed one was out there. The adrenaline rush he once cherished now felt like an ache in his joints. He was far too old for this bullshit. “Any last stops you need to make before we head back to the hotel?”
“No, not me. You?”
“Yeah,” Rick said. “Let’s go to the rental house, settle into a chair by the front window with a bottle of the good stuff, and watch who goes in and out of Skye’s house.”
“Hmmm. Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” Rick shrugged. “Why the hell not? No one will spot us.”
“And how will we identify the players in this little drama?”
“We’ll snap their photos—get clear shots of their faces—and cross-reference them against the digital gallery of politicians, gangsters, and esteemed civic leaders I’ve amassed.”
“That collection of rogues and pillars is just sitting on your laptop back at the hotel?”
“Penny did the heavy lifting, compiled the dossiers. I haven’t even cracked the lid on that Pandora’s box yet.”
“That means Bowes isn’t a politician, a gangster, or some civic pillar of the community,” Tavis said. “If Penny had found him, she would have told you immediately and insisted on coming along. So what’s left?”
“I don’t know. What else is there?” Rick kicked a loose pebble across the pavement. “A business owner?”
“He’s such a relentless asshole. Who the hell would tolerate working for him?”
“Desperate people, I guess.”
“If we’re going to the rental house, we need to call the hotel and leave a message for Clay,” Tavis said.
Rick stopped abruptly near the open exit gate. He planted his hands on his hips, his jaw working as he worried the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “I guess I’ll have to send him a message.”
Tavis paused, leveling a look that was pure WTF. “How do you plan to do that? Yell telepathically?”
Rick brought his fingers to his temples, his eyes squeezing shut as he rubbed the pressure points. After several long, silent seconds, his eyes snapped open. “There. Done.”
“Done?” Tavis repeated, suspicion heavy in his voice.
“I sent him the message. Worked for JC, didn’t it?”
Tavis let out a sudden, barking laugh that echoed through the parking lot, drawing startled stares from the few people nearby. “I never realized you possessed such a charming sense of humor.”
“I grew up in a family of cops, surrounded by stress and tragedy.” Rick shrugged. “If we couldn’t laugh at ourselves, we’d all have gone completely mad years ago.”
“A large family and a lifetime of service. The O’Gradys are impressive.”
“Are you being nice, so I’ll give you courtside seats at the Denver Nuggets game?”
“Nah,” Tavis said. “Already got them. Joseph believes Austin O’Grady is the undisputed greatest player on the planet. He gets more joy out of being Austin’s cousin than the grandson of the formidable Elliott Fraser.”
“I’m pretty proud of my nephew,” Rick said. “He’s got an exhibition game tonight at nine. We’ve got to get home in one piece to watch it.”
“I suspect we won’t make it, Rick. The night has other plans for us.”
“Ha! Ha! Hilarious,” Rick chuckled dryly, the humor dying in his throat as a chill traced a path down his spine, raising the hair on his neck in an instant. The easy banter vanished. “We’ve got a tail,” he breathed, the words barely a whisper.
“You’re slipping, old man, losing that sharp edge,” Tavis replied. “I clocked him five minutes ago. This one looks like a professional. Are we going to let him follow us to the rental? I don’t see a problem with that.”
“If you don’t, I don’t either. Let’s roll,” Rick responded, the tension easing slightly.
Ten minutes later, they were steering toward the rental, a sleek black Cadillac trailing them like a predator stalking its prey through the urban jungle.