Hallowed Ground (16 page)

“Smart-ass. What about your knife?”

“I don’t have a knife.”

His cool gray eyes met mine. One hand reached behind his back, then he handed me a knife sheathed in a camouflage nylon case. “Now you do.”

Holy crap. The thing had to be at least ten inches long. And if Jimmer freely handed it over, I knew it wasn’t the only blade he had.

“Thanks.” I unzipped my purse and dropped it next to the gun since it wouldn’t fit in my jacket pocket. “Do you really think I’ll need it?”

“You always need it.”

That was Jimmer; he figured everyone should be armed to the teeth at all times. It was endearing, in a psychotic kind of way.

“Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

“Want me to hold your hand?” he asked snidely.

“No, but you could give me a piggyback ride,” I retorted just as snidely.

“Don’t push it.” Luckily he only took the steps one at a time on the way downstairs, giving my smoker’s lungs a break.

Before we opened the steel door leading to the parking lot, Jimmer stopped and said, “I made a quick sweep of the area.”

“You did?”

“Course, that don’t mean nothin’. They could be waiting on a side street. Or anywhere else, for that matter.”

Comforting.

He tossed me a set of keys. “Just to be safe, I want you to drive this.”

Be still my heart. Were these the keys to his beloved Hummer? Not a “pussified” one like GM

was making, no, his was the real deal, a military issue. I wasn’t entirely sure it wasn’t fully armed.

“And no,” he said, as if reading my mind, “you ain’t getting your girlie hands on my Hummer.”

He pointed to a black Toyota Highlander. “That’s your ride.”

I couldn’t complain. It was much nicer than my Sentra. Still, it wasn’t Jimmer’s usual style.

“Where’d you get that?”

He rolled his eyes. “Didja forget I own a damn pawn shop?”

“Someone pawned their
car
?”

“Car is nothin’. Some people would sell their kid for a fix.”

Not touching that one. I really didn’t want to know about any more desperate people. I had enough in my life already. “You don’t mind driving my car?”

Jimmer grinned. “You got insurance, right? In case I gotta take evasive maneuvers in that rice burner?”

My gaze narrowed. I started to ask specifics on what qualified as “evasive maneuvers” but my cell phone rang.

Taking it out of my jacket pocket, I flipped it open. My home phone number lit up the screen.

Kell again. Great. I debated on ignoring it.

Guilt gnawed at me and I answered cheerily, “Hey Kell, what’s up? I’m just on my way home.”

“Good to hear, Ms. Collins. We’ve been waiting for you.”

Not Kell. The blood drained from my face. My vision distorted even as I established the voice; Reggie, the big Carlucci bodyguard from this morning.

His laugh left grease stains on my ear. “Surprised? I told you we’d be in touch. We’ve been having the most enlightening conversation with your friend. Wanna listen in?”

In the background I heard Kell whimpering, then a sharp crack of flesh hitting flesh. Followed by a scream.

The knots in my stomach untied and lashed my throat.

I curled my hand into a fist until the car keys bit into my skin. “You bastard. He has nothing to do with this. Leave him alone.”

Jimmer was by my side; his big hand steadied mine after I’d bobbled the phone. He hunkered down, holding the receiver out, pressing his head to mine so he could hear every awful word.

“We just want to talk to you.”

“Fine. Let him go and I’ll meet you anywhere you want.”

“Nope. We tried that this morning, remember? Here’s the deal: Tommy won’t rearrange his pretty face if you get here within the next, oh, twenty minutes. We’ll talk then.”

I swallowed. My voice still came out choked. “If I’m late?”

A muffled whump; another cry of pain echoed in my ear. “It’d be in your best interest to hurry.”

Click
.

Fury surged in me. Not only were those bastards in my house, invading my sacred space, they’d decided to take out their frustration on a man who hadn’t done anything wrong except hook up with me.

I spun toward the Highlander; an enormous palm in front of my face stopped the motion.

I glared at Jimmer. “Didn’t you hear them? Get out of my way. If I leave right now it’ll still take me over twenty fucking minutes to get there.”

“Julie, listen to me.”

He didn’t loosen his grip, but his voice had turned cold and precise. He snatched the keys from me and pocketed them.

“Change of plans. You drive your car. I’ll follow you.”

I blinked. “You’re coming along?”

“Hell, yeah, like I’d leave you to deal with these assholes with one gun and one little knife.”

“You don’t have to get involved in this, Jimmer.”

“Too late for that now.” He patted his belt and removed a black box. “Besides, those fuckers need to find out we don’t do things that way here.”

His confidence bolstered mine. “Damn straight. I’ll cut their balls off with my knife and make them wear ’em as earrings.”

“That’s my girl. Be your usual pissy self. Then they won’t suspect you aren’t alone.”

I watched as he pounded a number on the tiny buttons on his cell phone. “What are you doing?”

“Calling for backup.”

I didn’t ask who. I just got in my car and drove.

As I sped home, I cursed. I muttered. I smoked like a prescribed burn.

If Kell came out all right, I swore I’d become attentive, helpful, sympathetic. I’d fluff his pillows, cook tofu stir-fry, watch endless hours of FUSE and listen to his dreams of grandeur about when his rock band finally scored a record deal.

Why are you trying to be who he wants you to be and not who you are?

Bad time to have an identity crisis.

I checked the digital clock as I stubbed out yet another cigarette. Five minutes.

Jimmer had called me with last minute instructions. Keep my gun tucked in the small of my back, keep them talking and keep my head down. Like I couldn’t have figured out the last one on my own.

What I couldn’t figure out was why Carlucci’s goons were so anxious to talk to me.

There was one possibility I hadn’t considered. What if Donovan knew who’d been causing the sabotage at the Bear Butte building site? If one of Big Joe’s goons had seen me talking to Donovan, they might jump to the worst conclusion.

But I could jump to conclusions too. If they had seen me with Donovan, that meant they were responsible for shooting him.

As I approached my house, I noticed the Towncar wasn’t parked in the driveway. Strange.

Reggie and Tommy didn’t seem the type to hoof it.

I slammed the car door and ran up the porch steps. My heart raced, blood rushed in my ears.

I pushed the front door open.

The familiar scent of my home, the lingering remnants of cigarette smoke, coffee, and vanilla candles didn’t offer me the comfort it usually did.

Reggie was perched on the arm of my sofa, his gun dangling casually by his side as if he didn’t find me a threat.

Kell wasn’t a threat. They’d tied him to a kitchen chair, removed his sling and joined his hands together behind his back. With his sprained arm, he had to be in agony.

My gaze traveled down his body to his injured leg, also fastened to the chair with a length of twine. His swollen ankle had turned a hideous shade of purple, like he’d been kicked a time or two. His head hung to his chest.

Hot rage filled me. They’d fucking pay for this.

Reggie snapped out his wrist and frowned at his Rolex. “Twenty-four minutes. You’re late, Ms.

Collins.”

His flat reptilian eyes locked to mine. “Tommy?”

Tommy grabbed Kell’s hands and lifted them up behind his back until cartilage popped and Kell screamed.

My guts twisted like a dishrag. “I’m here now so you can untie him.”

“Nah. Don’t think I will. He’s my insurance policy that you’ll cooperate. But first,” he angled his chin toward my purse, “toss it over. I’m interested to see what you’re carrying.”

In one quick move I whipped my purse at his chest hard enough the weight of it caught him off guard.

The big gun came up. Pointed at my head. “My patience is wearing thin, Ms. Collins.”

“Yeah? So is mine. What do you want to talk to me about?”

“In due time. Now the jacket. Slowly.”

Sweat trickled down my spine and pooled in the small of my back. I peeled off my rayon suit jacket with exaggerated slowness. For once it wasn’t born out of sarcasm; I was afraid if I moved too fast the gun would slip out of my waistband and I’d be screwed.

Reggie passed my jacket to Tommy as he dumped the contents of my purse. Knife, wallet, lighter, lipstick, pens, perfume, and spare change clattered to the coffee table. His eyes glinted, as if the contents had somehow disappointed him.

Tommy held out my jacket, reaching into the left pocket, coming up with a used tissue. He shoved his hand into the right pocket. Out came my cell phone, cigarettes, and another lighter.

“See?” he sneered. “Told you she wasn’t carrying this morning.”

Reggie asked, “Where is your gun?”

I didn’t move. I didn’t blink and I sure as hell didn’t answer.

“At her office.” The garbled response came from Kell. “I asked her to keep it there.”

Kell finally looked at me. No mutinous expression distorted his face, nor did hatred darken his eyes. I almost wanted him to lash out at me because I could deal with bursts of temper. The sad, broken man staring back at me made me want to curl into a ball and hide my face in shame.

“Yeah? How come?”

Softly, Kell said, “Because I hate guns and the violence surrounding them.”

Tommy and Reggie howled with laughter.

“That right?” Reggie said to me, amused.

I nodded, wishing he would disappear into the shag carpet like an orange juice stain.

“Let’s get started.” He gestured to the Lazy Boy recliner across from the entertainment center.

“Have a seat.”

“I’d rather stand.” It burned my ass this dirtball was acting like the host in
my
house.

“Suit yourself.” Reggie adjusted his slouch. “Saturday night you had a meeting with Rondelle Eagle Tail. Why?”

As my fear-coated mind tried to formulate a plausible reason, Tommy must’ve thought I was stalling, because he kicked Kell.

Again, Kell yelled out in pain.

Automatically I started toward him.

Reggie’s gun sited at my heart stopped me.

“That’ll happen every time you refuse to answer a question. So I ask you again: Why did you meet with Rondelle?”

“She had some information for a case I’m working on.”

“What case?”

“Her daughter’s.”

Reggie’s face registered interest. “What about her daughter?”

Stall stall stall
. “Long story or short?”

“What do you think?”

“The girl’s father snatched her. Rondelle wants the kid back.”

“When did Rondelle hire you?”

My gaze fell to the tips of my red Candies sling backs. Talk about clashing with the carpet. I inhaled. Exhaled. Wondered what the hell was taking Jimmer so long.

Black loafers moved into my line of sight. I dragged my eyes up to Reggie’s face now close enough to mine that I could count his long, black nose hairs.

“Tommy,” he stated.

The crack of flesh hitting flesh bounced off the walls.

Kell didn’t scream this time; he couldn’t through the fist Tommy had plowed into his stomach.

“You’d better answer quickly, Ms. Collins. Pretty soon Tommy will get bored and move on to more persuasive methods. With you.”

The leer on Tommy’s squashed face as he made kissing noises made my skin crawl.

Instead of fear, a strange calm overtook me. Wrong move. I’d been raped once and I’d blow his brains out before he ever laid a finger on me.

“Rondelle hired me last Friday.”

The back of Reggie’s hand cracked into my face. Hard. Pain exploded in my head. I stumbled back in my heels, righting myself with the library table by the door before I fell on my ass.

“Don’t lie.”

I rubbed my jaw, blinked away the stars dancing in front of my eyes. “I’m not.”

“You think we’re stupid? Saturday night was the first time you met.”

“Ever heard of the telephone?”
You dumb fuck
. “She called me.”

Reggie made as if to slap me again.

I cringed and backed up.
Any time, Jimmer.

Should I reach for my gun? Or would Reggie shoot me before I thumbed the safety?

“I’m asking the questions.” He motioned to Tommy.

My stomach pitched as I watched Tommy backhand Kell.

Kell gasped, blood burst forth from his mouth, his head flopped to his chest like a broken-necked doll.

Jesus. Just let him pass out.

“Rondelle couldn’t give a shit about that kid,” Reggie said, bulling his way toward me again. “So I know she ain’t the one paying you to snoop around.”

He turned his back on Tommy, planted his feet and aimed the gun at my neck. “Last chance.

Who hired you?”

With my mouth waterless as a summer creekbed, I didn’t know if I
could
answer.