Agnes and the Hitman (37 page)

Fortunato. Fuck.

“What happened to my father?” Shane asked finally. “And my mother. You told me she died in a boating accident.”

“She did,” Joey said. “The same accident your father died in.
I
couldn’t tell you who he was, because that would have made you a threat to the Don, as the son of the eldest brother. He’s got no kids, he ain’t gonna have any, so you’re the heir, that’s no good. So I made a deal with him. I’d raise you, tell you nothing of your father, and he’d leave you in peace, he’d—”

Shane was on his feet before he even realized it. He punched Joey square on the mouth, knocking the old man to the floor of the jet boat, and then Carpenter was there, wrapping his powerful arms around Shane, pulling him away.

“Easy, my friend, easy,” Carpenter said.

Shane allowed Carpenter to push him back to one of the chairs and shove him into it. All the rage he’d suddenly felt was just as quickly gone. He couldn’t believe he’d lost control like that. He never lost control. And he could see it now, what his uncle had done. “You did it to protect me.”

Joey nodded as he dabbed off the trickle of blood on the side of his mouth with a handkerchief he’d pulled out of a pocket. “I did. It was okay as long as Frankie was here. He was protecting you, too. Protecting all of us. Him staying down here was part of the deal, too. Let Michael become Don even though he was youngest. Frankie didn’t want it anyway, though it sure pissed Brenda off. Then Frankie disappeared the night of the robbery, and I knew I had to get you out of here. That’s when I shipped you off to military school.”

“You could have told me,” Shane said.

Carpenter let go of him and went back to the wheel, reversing them off the beach and turning south down the Intracoastal.

“What good would it have done?” Joey said. “The name would have been a weight around your neck. And my deal with the Don was that you didn’t know. I kept my part and he kept his. He didn’t go after you, even though you being alive has always been a threat.”

“Why arc you telling me this now?” Shane asked as Carpenter pointed the boat toward another island.

“Because the Don’s coming here for the wedding. And he knows you’re here and who you are. And all this crap is coming up about Frankie and the robbery. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but it’s best you be prepared.”

The bow of the boat scraped onto a beach, and Carpenter grabbed the second receiver and jumped overboard. He slammed it into the beach above the high-tide mark.

“Tell me the truth, Joey,” Shane said. “Are you planning to whack the Don?”

“No.”

“Because he’s got a professional hitman in the area who is supposed to take out someone who is a threat to—” Shane froze. “He’s here to hit me.”

Carpenter was climbing back on board and caught the last part. “One theory. And all the more reason to take out Casey Dean first.” He came over and slapped Shane on the shoulder. “Let’s focus on the present. And get the son of a bitch.”

Carpenter revved the engine and they pulled off the sand, back into deeper water. He turned and steered the boat between two islands. Shane took a deep breath and tried to reorient on his environment and get his head back in the mission, because he knew Carpenter was right. Casey Dean was the priority—even more so now.

They were surrounded by low-lying barrier islands, some small, some stretching out for over a mile in length. Many had thick clumps of trees, others were just covered in water grass. Small inlets and openings cut off to either side, disappearing into the trees. It was beautiful, the perfect place to hide a boat.

“Here.” Carpenter turned the wheel and brought them to shore on the edge of one of the larger islands.

“I’ve got it.” Shane grabbed the third receiver, jumped into the warm knee-deep water, and waded ashore. He shoved the receiver into the sand and flipped the switch on top. He waded back out and climbed on board. He saw that Joey had his Colt Python in his hand, ready for action. Shane opened a case and pulled out another MP5 submachine gun. He held it out to his uncle. “Here. More firepower.”

“Thanks.” Joey tucked the Python back into his waistband and hefted the submachine gun.

“We’re on line,” Carpenter announced, looking down at the GPS unit

“Now we’ve got to get Casey Dean on the phone.” Shane pulled out his phone and dialed in Casey Dean’s number. It rang four times; then the answering service came on.

“Casey Dean, this is Shane Fortunato. Seems like we might have some things to talk about. I don’t think you’re going to be able to complete your contract.” Shane cut the connection.
Shane Fortunato. Fuck.

“Now what?” Joey asked.

“We wait,” Shane said as Carpenter drove them over to a small inlet and brought the boat to a halt in the shade of overhanging trees. “What if the mutt don’t call?” Joey asked.

“You got something better to do?” Shane asked. “If I’d have known the truth—”

Joey cut him off. “If you’d have known the truth, you’d have never achieved what you have. You’d have been looking over your shoulder all the time and asking too many damn questions.”

“So you know what’s best for me?”

“I believed I knew,” Joey said. “Now you got to make your own decisions.”

“Thanks for—” Shane began, but his cell phone buzzed. He checked the screen as words appeared. Carpenter was at work with his equipment near the GPS.

PLEASURE TO HAVE MET YOU.

PERHAPS WE’LL MEET AGAIN SOON.

THE CONTRACT WILL BE FULFILLED. CASEY DEAN.

“About three miles from here,” Carpenter called to him, checking his small screen.

Shane looked back at his uncle Joey, who was hanging on to the boat with one hand, the other holding the submachine gun. “Let us deal with this,” Shane called to him.

“I can still pull a trigger,” Joey said.

“Two miles, ahead and to the right,” Carpenter announced.

Shane looked ahead. They were in a quarter-mile-wide waterway between an island covered in sea grass on the left and thickly forested mainland on the right.

“One mile,” Carpenter said as he pulled back on the throttle, slowing them. He turned the bow of the boat toward an opening in the trees. It was about two hundred yards wide and curved out of sight less than a quarter mile inland as it narrowed. “I’d say Casey Dean’s boat is up this waterway.”

The jet boat picked up speed. The sides began to close in as they curved left, giving them less than a quarter mile of width.

“Not far now,” Carpenter said. “Around the next bend.”

Shane had his hand wrapped around the pistol grip of the
M60
machine gun and the stock of the weapon pulled in tight to his shoulder. The jet boat banked and they skidded around a tree-covered point of land, revealing the same cruiser from the previous day sitting in the middle of the waterway less than two hundred yards in front of them. Shane began to squeeze the trigger and then paused in surprise. A beautiful redhead was lying on her stomach on the bow of the boat, just below the cabin. She wore a thong and skimpy top.

“What the fuck?” Joey said.

She lifted her head and waved at them, making no effort to cover her slender well-tanned body. Shane scanned the rest of the boat, but there was no sign of anyone else. Carpenter was throttling back, slowing them further. They were less than a hundred yards from the cruiser when the woman got to one knee, reached down, and brought up a long green object.

There was a flash of explosion, and a rocket-propelled grenade roared forth from the RPG launcher she held, straight at the jet boat. Shane pulled the trigger on the machine gun just as Carpenter slammed the throttle forward and pulled the wheel hard left, causing Shane’s rounds to go high and left

“Geez!” Joey yelled as the RPG round whooshed by less than two feet from Carpenter’s position and slammed into the trees behind them, exploding. Shane was scrambling to bring the machine gun to bear, but Carpenter was doing a full circle and the cruiser was suddenly behind them, and he couldn’t fire down the length of his own boat. He abandoned the gun and ran aft, joining Joey.

There was no sign of the woman now, just a dark figure in the bridge, and the cruiser coming straight toward them. There was a flicker of red just below the bridge, and Shane yelled “Get down,” just as the sound of a machine gun firing echoed across the water and the first rounds cracked overhead.

Shane slammed Joey to the floor of the jet boat, protected by the Kevlar plates on the rear. He looked over his shoulder. Carpenter was crouched down as far as he could be and still have a hand on the wheel and see where they were going.

More rounds cracked by overhead, and Shane popped his head up to risk a glance back. The cruiser was picking up speed.

“Faster!” Shane yelled to Carpenter.

His partner slammed the throttle full forward and they raced back down the waterway. Shane slid the tip of his submachine gun over the rear fantail and blindly fired off an entire magazine. He popped his head up once more. The cruiser was still coming and still firing. The only good thing was that the fixed machine gun wasn’t accurate, firing high.

Carpenter drove them through the twists and turns. Shane fired off another magazine, this time aiming, seeing the rounds hit the dark glass at the front of the cruiser’s bridge with no effect.

“That was some dame, huh?” Joey said with a lopsided grin.

“Yeah,” Shane agreed. “I especially liked the rocket launcher accessory.”

“We’re clear,” Carpenter called out as they came out of the narrow waterway into the river. He turned right. Shane got to his feet. “Spin us and I’ll fire as it clears,” he ordered as he ran past Carpenter back to the front of the boat.

He grabbed the M6o and aimed back where the waterway met the river, finger on the trigger. The bow of the cruiser appeared and Shane fired. The first rounds hit low, right in the water in front of the bow. Shane walked them up into the hull and then up higher as the rest of the boat appeared, focusing the string of bullets on the bridge. The
7.62
mm rounds slammed into the bulletproof glass and Shane knew it would only hold for a little while longer against the onslaught.

“Watch it!” Joey screamed as the woman popped up through a hatch in the bow, RPG on her shoulder. She fired and disappeared. Shane cringed as the rocket-propelled grenade streaked toward them. It hit the Kevlar armor on the front of the jet boat and exploded.

Shane felt a powerful hand slam into his chest and lift him into the air. Time seemed to move in slow motion as he flew upward over Carpenter, over Joey, over the entire boat and tumbled into the water behind the boat. He went under, the weight of the gear he was wearing taking him down. He couldn’t breathe, the force of the explosion having knocked the air out of his lungs.

Shane unbuckled his combat vest and tore it off. He felt pain radiating through his chest and could only wonder at what wounds he’d sustained. They wouldn’t matter if he couldn’t get back to the surface and air.

He blinked, trying to figure which way the surface was. He forced himself to remain still for a moment and looked about. He kicked toward the light.

Shane popped to the surface right behind the jet boat. Carpenter and Joey were leaning over the rear, Carpenter stripping off his gear, getting ready to jump in.

“I’m all right,” Shane managed, but he couldn’t hear his own voice, just a loud ringing.

A brief smile crossed Carpenter’s face and his mouth moved, but Shane could only hear the ringing. Then the smile was gone and Carpenter was looking over his shoulder, shouting something. He shoved Joey over the side, diving off himself. Just as the bow of the cruiser sliced over and into the jet boat, crushing it and forcing it under. Shane blew the air out of his lungs and went back under, seeking the safety of the deeper water.

He was buffeted as the cabin cruiser churned by overhead, propellers ripping what remained of the jet boat to shreds, slicing by scant feet above his head. He forced himself to remain underwater as he watched the propellers move away. He stayed under until his lungs were screaming for air; then he went for the surface, using a piece of the wreckage to cover breaking the surface.

He sucked in air as he watched the cruiser continue to plow away. When the cruiser disappeared around a bend of the river, he looked around for the others. Carpenter was hidden by an overhanging branch, holding on to a piece of wreckage with one arm, the other around Joey, who had a cut on his forehead, blood seeping down his face.

“That didn’t go as planned,” Carpenter said.

“Lousy work,” Shane gasped, his ears still ringing. “We’d have stayed to clean up.”

“Well, thank you, Mr. Dean, for being a sloppy-ass killer,” Carpenter said.

“We should deliver that in person,” Shane said.

“We should do that later,” Carpenter said, nudging a dazed Joey toward the bank.

“Yeah,” Shane said, looking back in Casey Dean’s direction. “But we’re definitely gonna do it.”