Going Deep

He shoved me against the door, and my shoulder flared in hot pain. “Shut your mouth.”

He ripped the keys from my hand and, fumbling a bit as he got the right keys, shoved them into each lock. When he slammed the door open, he kicked me, and I went flying into the apartment, crashing onto the coffee table face first. The taste of blood filled my mouth, and for a moment, I saw black. I groaned and rolled off the table to sprawl on the floor.

Richie slammed the door and stared down at me, a sadist about to unleash on an unsuspecting victim. How had I never seen this part of Richie directed at me? Only a man who had cruel thoughts, who felt all others beneath him, treated a person like this. I’d thought perhaps I might be the one person in his life he had some emotion for, but now I realized all of those emotions were as cold and vile as the rest of him.

He lifted his foot and jammed it toward me. My eyes snapped closed as I prayed, but nothing happened. Nothing touched me. His laughter filled my ears.

“It’s not going to be that easy, bitch. Get up.”

I pushed myself to my elbows and managed to get to my feet.

He leaned close to me and quietly said, “You’re going to tell me what went wrong.”

My lip hurt, and I touched it to find my fingers smeared with blood. I reached for the Kleenex box on the table, but he grabbed my wrist and squeezed. My bones crunched beneath his fingers.

“What did you do?” he snarled. He gave a little twist, and I cried out, my knees buckling as more pain flooded my body.

“I don’t know, Richie,” I said, gasping. “I didn’t do anything.”

He shook my arm, and I flinched. “Goddamn it, O’Shea is a fucking cop! And you knew that, didn’t you? Did you give him the details? Did you read those messages? I’m going to kill you so slowly you’ll see your heart still beating when it’s ripped into pieces.”

“I didn’t know, Richie,” I said again. They were the only words I could remember. Danny had never told me he was a cop. I felt betrayed, alone, left to face the hard truth that he used me to get closer to Richie. Everything had been a lie. I had no one and nothing.

Richie shoved me onto the floor and loomed above me. He grabbed a lamp from the end table, and the cord whipped across my face in a painful slash. He screamed and hurled it at the wall. Ceramic pieces exploded, raining down on me.

I lay there and waited to die.

Chapter Thirteen: Danny

I slammed on the brakes and jumped from the armored car, leaving it in the middle of the street. The outside of the club was utter pandemonium. People poured from the open doors, which revealed a dark, quiet interior. Tiffany and another dancer were huddled near the sidewalk. Tiffany was in tears, and the other woman was doing her best to comfort her. Hank stood in a cluster of men, all of them pale and shell-shocked. A couple of bouncers were trying to keep people away from the club.

I didn’t have time to even ask questions. I headed for the door.

Charity jumped in front of me. “Stay out of there, Danny. It’s bad. We’ve already called the police.”

At that moment, it became clear the police had already been there. Several detectives scrambled from cars down the street and pushed through the throngs of people starting to gather on the corner. I would make them pay if anything happened to Hannah. Dumb shits. How long had they planned to just sit there before approaching Richie Silvestri?

“My girl’s in there.” I moved Charity aside gently, only because I didn’t want to hurt her. Charity’s face became hard, and when she started to speak, I yelled at her, “I’m a fucking cop! Get the fuck out of my way!”

She gripped my arm. “Danny, wait! Do you have a gun?”

My hand instinctively went to my side where my gun would normally be holstered. I didn’t have my gun. It wasn’t part of my disguise. “No, fuck, but that’s okay, I don’t need a gun to take down this prick.”

She looked as if she struggled with a decision, and then she reached behind her back and pulled a snubnosed Smith and Wesson .38. She pressed it into my hand. I gazed at it in shock.

“I’m DEA,” Charity said. “I know what’s going down, but my orders were to bide my time, wait for backup, and do not confront him, no matter what. They’re shit orders, but that’s the way it is. So”—she shoved me—“if you’re going, do it now before he hurts her.”

When I managed to get through the sea of people and inside, I took stock quickly. No customers. Hannah was not behind the bar. The speakers spit out nothing but soft static. Everything was quiet, dark, eerie, and in front of the bar lay Jonell, a small puddle of blood pooling around his head.

I knew he was dead. Still, I hunkered down and felt for a pulse.

“Fuck, Jonell, I’m sorry.”

A crash sounded from upstairs. I sprinted through the club and took the stairs three at a time. I pulled back my leg, my bad knee screaming in protest, and kicked the door, blasting it inward.

Hannah lay crumpled on the floor. I could do nothing but hope she was okay because Richie whirled around, and before I knew what hit me, a bullet ripped into my chest.

I staggered back and fell against the open door. A black veil tried to come down over my eyes, but that wasn’t happening today. Today I had to save my girl, and if killing this piece of shit happened in the process, so be it.