Innocent Obsession (The Dirty Kings of Vegas)

Peter and John have the two doors covered. Peter says, “They’ll come at us in force through one of the doors.” We move backward to the middle of the exposed space.

John pulls out two grenades. I touch his hand. “Easy, though.”

“Of course,” he nods, “they could have her with them.”

“I have an idea.”

I stay in the middle of the room with an AR-15 in each hand. Peter and John press against the walls, one by each door. A man jumps into the doorway on the left. I raise the rifle in my left hand. Peter jumps out from the side. He presses his gun against the man’s temple.

I aim the AR at him. He drops his weapon. John walks him toward me.

I shove the mercenary face down with my knee in his back.

“How many men are here?”

“You got Falco at the door and Gene on the balcony. There’s just me and one more, now.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Fine. There’s six of us left, but the others went to get supplies. We didn’t think you’d find us so fast.”

That’s okay. Our men can deal with them when they get back.

I lean on his back. “Tell me where she is and I’ll let you go.”

“You’re lying.”

“I don’t ever lie.” I put the gun barrel against the fleshy back of his knee. “Wait three seconds, though, and you’ll have a really tough getaway.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Two…”

“All right. All right. I’ll take you.”

“Tell me first. One…”

“Down this hallway, left at the end.” He’s talking fast. I think he believes me now. “There are three doors. She’s in the last room.”

I keep the gun against his ribs as I pull him up by his ear.

“You walk in front. When she’s safe, you’re safe.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“What difference does it make? Have you got a plan B?” I shove him ahead with the gun barrel. “Hands behind your head, asshole.”

Peter comes along, and John stays back to cover the entrance.

I keep the mercenary in front of me down the hallway. When we make the turn, Drago is in the hallway, blocking the way. Huge and ugly as ever, the Morettis’ captain and chief enforcer holds a long-magazine Uzi in each hand.

His laugh is a wet, snarling rasp. “Time for hard negotiating, Paul motherfucking O’Malley.”

“Sure, Drago.”

Without breaking step, I shoot his knee. He drops one of the guns as he falls. I shoot his wrist so he won’t be using the other Uzi.

“Make me your best offer, Drago,” I say, moving the gun barrel back onto the henchman, still walking. “Maybe I’ll call you an ambulance.”

Peter moves forward to pick up the Uzis and take Drago’s mobile phones.

I ask the mercenary, “Who’s got the key?”

“Drago.”

“Get it.”

She’s not moving. Slumped on a cot, she’s covered in a black blanket.

My heart stops as I rush to her. “Lucy?”

“Paul?”

Her voice is small and weak.

Quickly I take off the blanket, undo the blindfold, and cut the zip-tie that binds her hands.

I pick her up and cradle her in my arms. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

She’s shaking.

“I’m afraid.”

“You are absolutely safe. I promise you, Lucy.”

John and Peter guard Drago and wait for the rest of the team. I carry Lucy quickly out to the Hummer. Carefully, I put her in the back and strap her in. I don’t want to be more than an inch away from her, but I need to be certain she’s safe.

I drive fast over the wrecked gates and out.

Speeding along the bumpy road, a black van looms, headed toward us. They’re driving in the middle of the road. Probably our backup. I’ll have words later about how long they took to get here.

A man with a rifle leans out of the side. I swerve just as the muzzle flashes. Four, six times. The Hummer bounces off the road. Then we smack into something. The airbag goes off and I wish I’d fastened my seatbelt.

Everything goes quiet and dark. Then black.

Chapter Nine

Lucy

The noisy hospital waiting area is washed in a harsh acid light. I wish I could melt into the plastic chair. I would sooner slide down a wall or dissolve into the linoleum floor than sit here, just waiting.

All his family is here. All of them are making a point of not blaming me. What does it matter? I blame me.

Paul’s brothers Peter and John huddle in the far corner around their father, Liam, the tall patriarch.

I can’t believe my selfishness is the cause of all this. Everybody knows about the endless simmering feud between the Morettis and the O’Malleys. Now I’ve been the careless spark that started a brush fire. Who knows who will get hurt or maimed or even killed as a result?

A tired-looking doctor steps through the doors of a private room with his hands in his pockets. I left Paul bandaged and unconscious in the center of a web of tubes and wires. Flashing and chirruping machines around him, drip bags of blood and clear fluid suspended above him.