Hijacked (A Retribution Novel) (9 page)

Christian walked into Gideon’s for the third time that week. He’d barely missed his brother the past two days, and he intended to catch him today by showing up at one in the afternoon, an hour before the time Floyd said he usually checked in.

The scene wasn’t what he expected. Instead of a quiet, mostly empty bar. Several people stood in a semi-circle, all facing Hardy and a redheaded woman with her hair in wild disarray. Blood covered her mouth and nose. Dark makeup smudged beneath her eyes as tears coursed down her cheeks.

For a terrifying second, Christian mistook her for Eliana. Then she spoke.

“I didn’t do it, Angel baby. I didn’t say nothing.” The woman gripped his forearm as she pleaded.

Hardy rewarded her with a vicious backhand across her face that sent her tumbling to the ground.

She cried out as she fell. “Please, I didn’t mean it.”

“Stupid, fucking bitch. I should have known better than to keep a whore like you around.” He kicked her in the gut.

Some of the guys grunted in approval.

Jesus Christ
. The sight sickened him.

Hardy gripped her wrist and jerked her to her feet. She whimpered as she stumbled, trying to stand. “A prostitute will never be anything other than a piece of trash.” He slapped her hard again.

Christian had to do
something
.

He took a step forward, and the girl’s gaze latched onto him. Suddenly, everyone in the room turned in his direction.

“What the
fuck
do you want?” Hardy shoved the prostitute to the ground again. “Get her the fuck out of here,” he said to one of his men.

The woman scrambled to her feet and hurried toward the backroom as one of his men followed her.

A huge flow of relief washed over Christian, but he kept his features passive. “Didn’t mean to interrupt. I’m looking for my brother.”

“He’s busy.” Hardy was pissed. No other word fully described the expression on his face or the wild energy pulsating from him.

Christian lifted his hands in a show of acceptance. “Good enough. I’ll come back later.” He turned toward the door and pulled it open, prepared for Hardy or one of his men to try to stop him.

When they didn’t, he was surprised and pleased. Either they didn’t consider him a threat or the girl had taken her lumps, and Hardy would leave her alone. Both were acceptable.

“Reggie, lock that fucking door,” Hardy yelled as the door shut behind Christian.

He remained outside until he heard the turn of the lock. It killed him to walk away, knowing the abuse that woman had suffered. But Hardy wouldn’t have let him leave if—

The muted sound of a gunshot escaped through the cracks around the door, punching Christian in the gut. Instant shock vibrated through him, and he closed his eyes for a brief second as the worst possible scenario filtered through his head.
Had Hardy killed her
?

He wouldn’t, Christian rationalized. Not when he’d just watched Hardy beat the shit out of her. The risk was too high, and Hardy wasn’t an idiot.

Had he shot someone else?

Even that was risky. Maybe someone had accidentally discharged his weapon. Or maybe Hardy had used it as a scare tactic. Either way, Christian couldn’t do anything at this point but wait and watch for an opportunity to end Hardy and his organization.

*        *        *

Eliana’s phone vibrated for the third time in five minutes, and everyone at the conference table in her law office turned to her. One of the senior partners, an older gentleman who continued to dye his hair brown long after he should have grown old gracefully, lifted a questioning brow, heavy with annoyance.

“Is there an emergency?” Richard Stanton asked.

The three other people around the table, two middle-aged businessmen and an elderly woman watched her with expectant eyes.

Eliana never received personal calls, especially during the day, so she hadn’t bothered to silence her phone. She gave them a placating smile and turned her phone face up to view the screen. The name flashing on it was a knuckle punch to her forehead, giving her an immediate stress headache.

Gideon Muldoney.

She could either answer or ignore him again, but she had a feeling he wasn’t a man who would be ignored for long.

She stood. “I’m so sorry. Please excuse me for a moment.” She nodded to their clients and silently pleaded with Stanton to forgive the interruption.

“One moment,” she said into the phone as she stepped outside the conference room. She hurried to her office and closed the door before she spoke again. Late afternoon sun filtered through the fifth story window as she glanced to the street below her, wondering if Gideon was somewhere nearby.

“Eliana Conway,” she said into her phone as though she needed to identify herself to the caller.

“What the hell took you so long?” Gideon was obviously not pleased.

“I beg your pardon? Who am I speaking to?” She wasn’t about to bow to his obnoxious authority.

“Fuck,” he spit the word. “Your new boss.”

She paused for a moment as though the idea was foreign to her. “New client, perhaps. But I am and will remain my own boss, Mr. Muldoney.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that. I need you in my office in ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes?” She wanted to refuse, but if she didn’t prove useful to him, he’d let her go and ruin her chances to gain justice for Howard’s death. “That’s extremely short notice.”

“Yeah, well, if you would have answered your phone the first time, you would have had more notice. Ten minutes, or I’ll find someone else.”

“I’ll leave now.”

She gathered her purse and hurried from her office, asking the administrative assistant to give Stanton her excuse of a family emergency. She had no idea how the hell she’d explain things to him, but she’d worry about that later.

Eliana parked directly in front of Gideon’s bar, with no time to spare. As it was, she was already a minute late.

She tried to pull open the blackened glass door and nearly jerked her wrist out of its socket when the door didn’t budge. It was locked.

A curse sat on her tongue, ready to be released, but someone on the inside pushed open the door, easing her stress. A heavy-set, large man, covered in a multitude of tattoos stared down at her.

“Eliana!” Someone yelled her name from behind, and she turned.

A dark emotional cloud snagged her when she caught sight of Christian’s black Mustang parked across the street. He called out from the driver’s seat, but she didn’t have time for small talk or interaction now.

“Eliana Conway,” she said to the brute at the door and then cleared her throat. “Gideon asked me to stop by.”

He grunted and then moved out of the way. She didn’t glance back as she entered. The stench of body odor greeted her as she passed the gatekeeper, and she tried not to take another substantial breath until she was well away from him.

The inside was eerily quiet. No one congregated in the main part of the bar, but a man’s voice echoed from the back area, so she headed in that direction.

When she walked into the office, she stopped short as five pairs of male eyes fell on her, including those of Gideon and of Howard’s killer. A dark haired man with a handlebar mustache lifted his revolver and aimed it at her head. The overly aggressive act caught her off guard and stole her words.

“Put that fucking thing away, dickhead.” Gideon slapped him upside the back of his head. “She’s the one who’s going to save our asses.”

“
Your
ass.” The man closest to Gideon leaned against the desk, watching Eliana with cautious eyes. Tall and built like a wrestler, he shifted his glance to Gideon as though she was less significant than the grime on the walls. She didn’t know if it was the way he dressed or commanded himself, or the way the others often deferred to him with their gazes, but she didn’t doubt he was the man in charge. The white tank he wore showed off massive muscles and tattoos including a snake that wrapped around his arm and an interesting star tattoo near the base of his neck.

Gideon seemed momentarily frazzled by the leader’s comment, but he quickly hid it and turned to the gun-wielder with a frown.

Dickhead put away his gun, but the rest of the men stayed wary of her as she made a quick assessment of the intimidating group who seemed like one massive threat.

“Mr. Hardy, this is my smart as hell, beautiful lady lawyer, Ellie.” Gideon gestured toward her, the tip of his marijuana cigarette glowing. “Graduated from UCLA, magna cum laude. Top of her class.”

“Eliana.” She corrected Gideon on her name, but didn’t bother with her university.

All in all, Hardy looked like a terrifying motherfucker of a man. Worse than most she’d encountered on the streets, and, between her youth and looking for her brother as an adult, she’d seen more than her share of bad people.

“Eliana Conway. Harvard University. Junior Partner at Stanton, Stanton, and Price,” Mr. Hardy recited as his piercing eyes bored into her psyche. “Did I get that right?”

“That’s correct.” A shiver of fear threatened her composure. The man obviously had connections and access. If the absence of any sort of light in his eyes was any indication, he was a very dangerous man. She wondered if it was already too late for her to back out of her arrangement with Gideon and to trust the police to do their job.

“Harvard. UCLA. Who gives a fuck?” Gideon shrugged.

Hardy kept his narrowed gaze on her. “She does.”

She gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod. She didn’t want to piss him off, but she also had the impression he would drill a coward into the ground.

Hardy stood and walked toward her, circling around behind. “She also gives a fuck to your brother.”

Iced terror consumed her as he returned to stand in front of her, but she refused to show it.

“Isn’t that right?”

She met his gaze with a cold, calculating one of her own. She’d perfected the skill of hiding her panic back when she was five and her parents would purposefully torment her with spiders or the ends of lit cigarettes. The more she screamed, the more delight they’d taken. “Twice,” she answered.

“
The fuck
?” Gideon seemed angrier about that than having Hardy mock him. He strode across the room until he was inches from her face. “You fucked Christian?”

The scent of weed clung to his breath, nauseating her. “Who I sleep with is none of your business,” she said, keeping a certain amount of disdain in her voice. “You hired me as an attorney. You have no claim on my personal life.”

Hardy scoffed and nailed Gideon with a sarcastic look. “You sure you want to trust her now?”

She slid a sideways glance full of piss and vinegar toward the ringleader, but remained silent. She was in deep and had no choice but to bluff.

“It was two one-night stands. Meant nothing other than sex.” She kept her voice as unemotional as she could.

“But you wouldn’t sleep with me,” Gideon accused.

Eliana was surprised Hardy didn’t strike him down right then for showing weakness. “I never mix business with pleasure,” she said. It was as good of an excuse as any.

Gideon exhaled a frustrated breath but seemed to accept her answer.

“Most of her clients are victim cases,” Hardy continued. “Abused women and children.”

“So?” she challenged him, but he didn’t spare her a glance.

“She’s weak. Look at her. She’ll crack under pressure.” Hardy spoke as though she wasn’t in the room, or, worse, like she wasn’t worthy of his words, which pissed her off even more.
Son of a bitch
. It was his fault Howard was dead, along with too many others. Possibly even her brother.

He needed to pay for what he’d done. All of them did.

In a show of false bravery, she faced him and then took a step closer to his terrifyingly dangerous person. “
No one
can plead a sad case better than me. Why do you think I’m in such high demand? But let me tell you this, I’m like any other prostitute out there on the street. I want to be paid for my services, and some johns pay better than others, just like some prostitutes give better head. If I work for Mr. Muldoney, I expect to be compensated like the high-end prostitute, excuse me, attorney that I am. So fuck you and your judgements. You don’t know me at all.”

Silenced pierced the room for too many, unending seconds. Hardy stared her down, and she held his gaze with an angry one of her own. Her heart thundered, rushing adrenaline-infused blood through her body, and she wondered if she’d purchased a death sentence with her harsh words.

Hardy straightened, eliminating all but mere inches of space between them. His dark, fathomless eyes reminded her of a snake, like the one in his tattoo, a deadly poisonous rattler who wouldn’t hesitate to cut her throat and toss her in the Willamette River.

“One wrong word, one wrong move.” He swept past her, pausing at the door.

“Have your boys take care of that package, Gideon.” He strode out of the office, and all the men but Gideon and Howard’s murderer followed him.