End Game (34 page)

“Nathan, stop this!”

Marisa’s horrible screams ring in my ears. The guy tying her arms yanks her backwards.

“You know, even
I
didn’t think you’d be stupid enough to come alone. I’m glad you did, though. Makes my job so much easier.”

The slimy asshole has no idea what’s coming for him.

“You’re a fucking disgrace. It’s
your
fault that your crew got pinched, not Jack’s, and not hers. Be a fucking man and admit it. Don’t take it out on her.”

“I’m doing this to kill as many of you New York assholes as I can. As for these girls, I’ll get a fat payout from them once they’re gone. It’s nothing personal.”

They laugh with one another as the thug grabs my arms and ties me to a support pole. He uses one of those zip ties around both my wrists, linking them both. He grins as he picks up a red gas can, which sloshes with liquid. Then he hurls it at me. Yellowish liquid splashes all over my clothes, the putrid fumes making me gag. He does the same to Marisa.

Jesus, we’re all going to burn to death.

A sound from upstairs makes my heart leap with hope. The rat-at-tat of gunfire sprays through the restaurant, and I imagine Jamie’s men dropping down, one by one. Jack won’t stop until every one of them is dead.

His eyes lift towards the ceiling.

“You’re not going to make it outside this building.”

The basement echoes with the clipping sound of his shoes and Marisa’s sobbing.

“I’ll survive. I always do.”

Then he reaches inside his pocket and produces a slim, black lighter.

Snap
.

His thumb strikes the wheel and a brilliant, small flame burns in the basement. The whole basement reeks of gasoline—he’s fucking crazy. He holds a rag soaked in gasoline and lights it. It’s submerged in flames, and then he tosses it in Jessica’s direction.

“NO!”

Ear-splitting screams pierce my brain as the floor erupts in flames. Jessica shrinks against the wall as the heat grows on the floor. Even I can feel it on my legs. I strain against the zip ties and Jamie laughs, coughing slightly as he hurtles up the stairs along with Nathan.

Marisa screams for help, and I’m trying to think of a way to get us out. With all the gunfire upstairs, I doubt anyone will hear our cries for help.

I strain my muscles against the zip ties, wincing as the cut deeply into my arm. I’ll never be able to force them open. Think. What else? I can cut it open.

The pole I’m attached to feels old, with hundreds of jagged edges. I tune out the smoke, heat, and screaming, and I move my wrists up and down over a rough spot. Flames leap over the walls and Jessica slumps against it, overcome with the black smoke.

Harder.

Acrid smoke burns my lungs, burns the air. Fuck, it’s hard to think.

I’ve got to get out.

I drag that zip tie over the jagged edge as hard as I can. The threads snap apart and I almost pitch forward as my hands break free. Holy shit, I did it.

I stumble forward. There’s a line of fire separating me and Marisa from Jessica. Flames dance over her clothes. Shit. I can’t stay conscious much longer.

“Save her!”

But I can’t. My clothes are soaked in gasoline and if I jump through that wall of fire, I’m fucked. I untie Marisa and ignore her screams for me.

“Joe, save her first! SAVE HER FIRST!”

Once freed, she runs towards the back of the basement to get something long and red. Fire extinguisher. Fuck, that won’t help against a fire this big.

I tear my soaked shirt from my body and Marisa sprays the extinguisher towards the fire, clearing a small path for me. There’s blackness all around Jessica’s mouth. I run into the heat and grab her wrists, pulling her out. I loop an arm around her waist and we climb up the stairs. The way is all black. Black, acrid clouds billow towards the door. She bursts through and I feel the heat at my back.

We burst into a storm of gunfire. She helps me pull Jessica into the kitchen and I tear the duct tape from her lips. Bullets smash into the plaster behind us, and I realize we’ve run directly into Jamie’s crew. Marisa jumps on Jessica’s chest, giving her compressions. My hands slip on the tiled floor. Blood. It’s still warm. Is it mine?

A loud, crashing sound sends my heart beating fast. I lunge towards the sound, tripping over something solid. A body. There’s a metallic glimmer near his hand. I grab it, the heavy weight giving me instant comfort. A man in a suit rises over the cook’s station. He has a gun. Aim. Shoot. I fire the gun at his chest and look away before he drops. There’s another one.
Crack.

“Get the fuck out!”

I fire towards the oily voice, near the red, glowing exit. Jamie slips through the door, along with Marisa’s fucking brother.

Damn it.

“JOE!” A deep voice booms from front of the restaurant. “Where are you?”

“HERE!”

There are flames crawling all over the walls of the restaurant, now. Jessica sits up next to Marisa, looking traumatized but otherwise all right. Marisa’s tear-streaked face turns towards me.

“Find him, Joe. Find him and kill him.”

As soon as Vince rounds the corner, I streak towards the exit with my gun. My lungs gratefully breathe in the crisp air. There are men fleeing everywhere, but I’m just looking for one.

Nathan’s blond hair shines in the night. His long legs sprint down the street, heading towards his car. A murderous rage fills my limbs with energy. I lope after him aiming the gun as I run.
Crack. Crack.

Both smash into the pavement, clouds of dust bursting in the air. He turns around and sees me, and then he raises his hand. The muzzle flashes, and I dive to the side, but he’s such a horrible shot that it explodes four feet to my right. I stop, aim, and fire.

Nathan stumbles.

I got the fucker.

My feet pound the pavement and just before I reach his body, a surge of hatred sears against my chest and another round explodes into his back. I kick the gun away from his hand, and it scatters down the street.

It doesn’t satisfy me to see him bleeding on the street. I want to see his face when that last flicker of light dies from his eyes. Using one leg, I flip his body over. His face is a mask of blood as he flips over. He groans and spits out a stream of dark blood.

“What the fuck is it with you and my sister? Does her pussy really taste that good?”

The degrading filth coming from his mouth makes me want to use my gun to smash his teeth. Instead, I fire my gun into his thigh. Nothing fatal, but it’ll make his death more painful. He screams and screams and screams.

“If you had shown your sister a little bit of respect, you wouldn’t be dying right now. I’m going to enjoy watching you die. Take your time. I’m in no hurry.”

That seems to rouse him, even while blood spills from his thigh. “Fuck you. You’re nothing but a goddamn thug. A lapdog.”

“At least I’m not dead.”

He flinches and screams as another shot sinks into his throat. His head slams back, and his mouth makes a gurgling sound as he chokes on his blood.

How fitting.

I step closer, watching him clutch his throat, struggling to breathe. Fucking asshole wanted his sister to choke to death, and now he’ll get to feel what it’s like. His round eyes search and stare. I wonder what he’s looking for. I wonder what Janice thought of before she died. His red mouth gapes, his face turns blue as his eyes bloom with blood, and then they stop moving.

* * *

Steam spirals over the cup of coffee she holds in her hands, staring at her sister lying in the hospital bed. She hasn’t really moved in a few hours. I lean across the doorway, my heart breaking for her. Her sister will be fine, really. There wasn’t much to fix on the outside, but the damage that was done to her spirit—who knows how long that’ll take to heal?

It’s not everyday the man you call your family tries to kill you in a badly thought out plot to take over the family business.

A hand grabs my shoulder and I jump. Jesus Christ. It’s just Vince.

He gives me that annoying smirk and I embrace him. A dull thud pounds through my heart as he slaps my back. I owe a lot to the guy.

“How’s she doing?”

“How the fuck do you think? Her own brother tried to off her,” I say in an undertone.

A long sigh leaves his throat. “She’ll be all right. It’ll take a while, but she’ll be fine.”

He doesn’t look so sure.

“Jamie is at large, but we’ll get the bastard eventually.”

I roll against the wall as the lights burn into my eyes. “Jesus Christ.”

“Well, you can tell her that Jack wants nothing to do with the casino anymore. Not with the feds crawling all over it. So she has it back, no harm done.”

The news gives me a sudden shock of hope, but it deflates almost immediately. I can’t imagine that the news will cheer her up at all. I don’t think she really cares about it anymore.

“Yeah.”

Sighing, he slaps my shoulder one last time and turns around to leave.

“Listen, Vinny—thanks for everything.”

He gives me a pained smile. “I was worried about you for a while.”

“What?”

“I didn’t know whether you’d ever come back to us.”

I make a face, hating that he’s bringing this up again. “Yeah, well—”

“Then you met that girl. I thought you’d lost your fucking mind over that girl, and I was right, wasn’t I?”

I’m in no mood for his shit. Acid bubbles in my throat. “Vince—”

He laughs. “Relax, goddamn it. We all lose our minds over these fucking broads.”

* * *

The tension in her jaw is so tight that I’m afraid she’s going to crack her teeth. Once she’s in her apartment, she heads straight for the kitchen. I follow her uncertainly. She’s been through so much shit tonight—more than any normal person could handle. So far she hasn’t cried. She hasn’t lost it.

But she needs to.

Bending over, she grabs something—a garbage bag from the kitchen. The silence in the apartment is deafening. She grabs both ends and violently shakes the bag, opening it. I’ve no clue what she’s up to. And then a high-pitched gasp leaves her mouth as she lunges at something—a picture frame. I get a glimpse of her father’s face before she throws it into the bag. She moves through the apartment, gathering every portrait of her family—every photo of her brother. The glass shatters in the bag and I hang nearby. I don’t know what to do. I’ve never dealt with anything like this.

Tears stream down her face as photo after photo crashes into the bag. Her shoulders heave and my chest feels like it’s caving in. I can’t stand watching her cry.

“Marisa…
Marisa
.”

Her lip quivers and she tightens her fists around the garbage bag, and then suddenly she lets out a scream. She hurls it against the floor, smashes it against the wall with all her strength. The tinkling sound of broken glass is swallowed by her screams of rage.

Jesus.

Finally, she stops, red-face and arms shaking.

I’m almost afraid to approach her.

“All my life I’ve tried to be there for my family. I stayed even though I hated my brother. I didn’t choose this family. It wasn’t fair that I was stuck with a brother like that. My dad…” her voice chokes. “He didn’t help me. He threw me to the fucking wolves—”

“He probably thought that only you could deal with all this shit—with the families. He wanted to get out, that’s why he talked to the feds. There wasn’t enough time to explain it to you.”

She looks at me like she wants to believe it. “I don’t know.”

Cautiously, I take her hands in mine, forcing her to let go of the bag. “Let it go, hon. You’ve spent a lifetime trying to please everyone but yourself. It’s time to let them go.”

“What about—what about the FBI?”

“They won’t find any evidence against you. You’ll have to pay the penalties, and that’s it. You’re free.”

She wraps her arms around my middle as her face presses into my neck. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The fear from last night rises inside me once more, when I thought we were all going to die. Her arms squeeze the breath from my lungs and I hug her back, never wanting to let go.

MARISA

There’s a small post-it note on my nightstand. I figure it’s a note from Joe, telling me where he’s gone, but instead I read a cryptic message:

I’ll be back when you finish. Your first clue: the place where Aladdin finds Genie’s lamp. - Joe

I roll my eyes as a reluctant smile spreads over my face. He does this all the time—prepares these little games while I’m home and he’s out doing something for Jack. A ball of nervousness burns in my chest. It makes me worry when he’s out. Sometimes he comes back with blood on his shirt or swollen knuckles, and I worry. I worry that he might not come back.

So he makes me these games at night while I’m asleep, and then I wake up to a note and the treasure hunt begins. At least it distracts me from worrying.

I have no idea what to make of the first clue. Aladdin found the lamp in a giant, treasure-filled cave in the desert, which was shaped into a lion’s head.

I move the handcuffs from the floor into the nightstand, my face heating when I think about how he fucked me last night. Six months later, he still gives me the most incredible, most amazing—

The jewelry box!

The black jewelry box I have sitting on my vanity has to be where he hid the next one. Sure enough, there’s another note hidden among my necklaces coiled in the box.

Hey, gorgeous! Good job on finding your first clue. ;) Next one: The enchanted object that a furry guy uses to spy on his love.

My mind draws a blank. I clutch the note to myself, moving around the apartment to look at the purse sitting on the counter, the vase with the long-stemmed roses.

Roses.

Furry guy.

Beauty and the Beast
?

I shake my head, laughing as I enter the bathroom and rifle through my dresser. There’s a note attached to the handheld mirror.

Hello again, hotness. I have to say, those marks on your neck make you look pretty damn sexy. But, anyway, on to the next clue: That annoying bird hates what?