Dirty Power (17 page)

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Authors: Ashley Bartlett

BOOK: Dirty Power
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“She’s right,” Ryan said.

“How the hell would you know?” Reese asked.

“You didn’t see him in that warehouse. When Coop started to cut me loose, Vito looked like he’d lost his favorite puppy.”

“So?” Reese asked.

“So he likes Coop. A lot. He was really upset that she chose me over him. This way he’ll think she finally chose him.”

“So we’re pretty much banking on Vito’s sentimentality. I’m so reassured. Thanks.”

“Seriously. Alexis told me once that Vito considered me his kid or something. I mean, he’s obviously deranged, but I think he will want to believe that I chose him,” I said.

“I’m still not sold on this shit.” Reese.

“For real.” Ryan.

“But we agree it’s the only viable option, right?” I asked.

“Whatever.” Ryan.

“Yeah.” Reese.

“Any chance we can go to sleep now? I really want to sleep in a real bed.”

Reese nodded and kicked off her shoes. “Are you sleeping in here or your own room?” she asked Ryan.

“I don’t know,” he said.

“Go to your own room.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m about to strip.”

“Whoa. Going. Chill.” Ryan put one hand over his eyes and held the other out in front of himself. “Night, kids. No loud sex. It’s creepy and I don’t like the look of that Fed.”

Reese and I grinned but managed to keep from laughing out loud. Ryan was a freak.

Chapter Eighteen
 

The story broke when I was in the air. When I got off the plane at O’Hare, it seemed like my face was plastered on half the TVs. Thankfully, Americans don’t give a shit about the news, so no one was paying attention. Also, the Feds had released my blond, green-eyed passport photo. No one noticed me with my boring brown hair.

I caught a cab and had the guy drop me about a mile from Vito’s house. It was early evening. Still hot as fuck. The Feds had wired up a leather jacket. It had video through one of the buttons on the collar. A different button was a mic. All the wires were sewn to the seams inside the lining. I’d tried to find them, but I couldn’t. Neither could Reese and Ryan. Good enough for me. The problem was, it was way too fucking hot to wear a leather jacket.

I also had a disposable cell phone. The kind that someone on the run would buy for twenty bucks in a drug store. The kind I’d been carrying for two years. It was wired too. Just audio. And GPS. I knew there were about five Feds and twenty local cops glued to my ass monitoring the wires, but I couldn’t see them. Hopefully, Vito wouldn’t be able to either.

I wanted to linger outside of Vito’s house. Take a moment to breathe before walking into a death trap. But I was playing the part of nervous fugitive so I went up and knocked on the door.

Madge opened it. She made an angry face. And her face was already ugly as fuck so it wasn’t a good look.

“Hey.”

“Get in here, now.” To facilitate my entry, Madge grabbed the strap of my backpack and hauled me inside.

“I…I didn’t know where else to go.”

Madge didn’t say anything. And she didn’t let go of my backpack either. She dragged me upstairs to one of the guest bedrooms and made me sit on the bed.

“Stay.”

I stayed. “I’m sorry. I know you guys don’t want me around, but—”

“Be quiet.” Madge pulled out her cell phone and dialed Vito. Or I assumed she was calling Vito. “Your bastard son just showed up here.”

A code. This one didn’t require an answer key.

Madge ended the call. “Strip.”

“Huh?”

“I can search you, or Vito can. You can decide.”

I glared at her, but it didn’t seem like she was going to let this one go. So I threw my backpack at her feet. The jacket tumbled out of the straps. Then I yanked off my shoes and tossed those to her. My T-shirt was sweaty. I hoped it grossed her out. Same with my socks. I emptied the pockets of my jeans onto the bed before dropping my pants and kicking those to her.

“Happy?” I asked.

“Underwear too,” was her response.

I scowled and took off my boxer briefs. I threw them at her. She caught them, held them up for inspection, then dropped them on the floor. She could have given them back, but no. I had to stand there buck-ass naked while she very thoroughly searched my clothing, felt the seams of my jeans and jacket, took the lining and laces out of my new Chucks, upended my backpack and combed the contents, took the battery out of my cheap phone, and finally made me spin in a circle to make sure there wasn’t a wire taped anywhere on my body.

It was humiliating. Which was exactly what she wanted it to be.

“You broke his heart when you left,” she said.

“That’s dumb. I’ve already got a father.”

“Get dressed. I can’t look at you anymore.”

Gee, and I was so enjoying standing here naked. I pulled on my clothes, put my wallet and cell back in my pocket, and sat on the bed.

“So what now?” I asked.

“Are you hungry?” She sounded like she was being nice, but the face was still angry.

“Starving.”

“Come on.”

I followed Madge back downstairs. She pointed at the kitchen table. I sat down. Then she brought me a beer—they kept them in the fridge for company—and pulled out the makings of a sandwich. I remembered why I liked Madge.

A year and a half had gone by since I’d been in this house. But Madge remembered that I liked turkey and Swiss. No tomato. Avocado, onion, and lettuce. Pepper, but no salt. She used the good mustard, the kind reserved for Vito, and not offered to anyone else. That meant she still liked me. She even found a stockpile of Cheetos. I also warranted a scoop of her homemade potato salad. Maybe this undercover thing wouldn’t be so bad.

A door slammed somewhere.

“Where the hell is she?” Vito shouted.

“If you’re gonna kill me, can I finish this sandwich first?” I shouted back.

Vito stomped into the kitchen. Madge set a second sandwich on the table. Then gave Vito a look that made him sit down. He ate the first half of his sandwich without breaking the death stare he was giving me. For the second half he looked everywhere except at me.

When we were done eating, Vito stood and grabbed the collar of my shirt. I snagged my beer and let him drag me to my feet.

“Wait,” Madge said.

“Not now.” Vito twisted my shirt so it was choking me a little.

“You need to know—”

“Not now!” Vito hauled me into the study. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Where the hell else am I going to go?”

“I don’t care where you go.”

“I got nothing, Vito.”

“That is not my problem.”

“Just help me out a little, okay? I need somewhere to hide. I need some way across the border. Help me, please,” I was begging. I was giving him the power. He liked power.

“No. You made your choice. The DiGiovannis will not help you. Now get out of my house.” Vito pointed toward the door.

“Fine. Pay me and I’ll go.” I didn’t stand. I just took a drink of my beer.

“Pay you? Pay you what?”

“Don’t play dumb. It was a stupid fucking accident, but I still deserve to get paid. You owe me that at least.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

For a moment, I thought he was just covering his ass. It’s not a good idea to admit that your associates put a contract on someone. But then I realized that he actually didn’t know.

“Oh my God.”

“What?”

“You don’t know.”

“I don’t know what?”

And that was when his phone rang. He grunted some monosyllabic words, glared at me, grunted some more, then hung up.

“Stay here.”

I waited all of sixty seconds before following him to the TV.

“…crime of passion. The agents in charge of the investigation report only that the murder was brutal, the victim stabbed half a dozen times, before the suspect fled the scene. The suspect, Vivian Cooper, aka Cooper Wells, is thought to be armed and should be considered dangerous. Reese DiGiovanni, the victim’s sister, is also sought for questioning; however, the police maintain that she is not a suspect in this case.”

Vito turned off the TV and slowly turned to look at me.

“You killed Ryan.”

I spun and walked back to the kitchen. I left my empty beer bottle by the sink and grabbed a fresh one. After a fruitless two-minute search for a bottle opener, I sat cross-legged on the floor, and stared at the beer that I couldn’t open. Vito took the bottle out of my hands, popped the top with an opener that was stuck to the side of the fridge, and handed it back. I drank half. Burped. Hiccupped.

“She was going to leave me,” I told my beer.

“Reese?” Vito asked.

“Yeah. I was going to propose and she decided to leave me. I bought a ring and everything. When I showed Ryan, he told me not to do it. The bastard knew. He knew she was going to leave me. They were going to take off with the money and leave me with nothing. After all I fucking did for them.” I looked up at Vito. “After all I fucking did for them,” I shouted. “Now I got nothing.”

“Come on.” Vito held out his hand. I took it and let him pull me to my feet. “Do you have a change of clothes? We are going to see someone.”

“I have a clean T-shirt.” I shrugged.

“Okay, go change.” Vito tried to take the beer, but I wouldn’t give it up.

I went upstairs, changed into a less funky shirt, and put my shoes back on. I remembered to grab the jacket. Hopefully, it would cool down enough for me to wear it.

Vito was waiting downstairs. He was on his phone. I waited until he ended the call. He clapped a hand on my shoulder and led me out to the car.

I realized as I climbed in the passenger seat that this might be my last car ride. Which was fucking depressing so I ignored that particular thought. Vito was a pretty easy guy to read. When he was pissed, he let you know. And when he was feeling kind, he showed it. He had opened my beer. That was nice Vito. Nice Vito didn’t want to kill me.

I was placing all my bets on someone opening a beer. Not a great move.

I didn’t pay much attention to where we were driving until I realized that we were in a familiar neighborhood. Alexis’s neighborhood.

“What the fuck, man?”

“Excuse me?” Vito asked.

“You’re taking me to Alexis. She will kill my ass for sure.”

“Alex won’t kill you. She may not like you very much, but she isn’t going to kill you.”

“The bitch is psycho,” I said.

“Hey, watch your tongue. She could have killed you a hundred times and she didn’t.”

“Great, that makes me feel all better.” I rolled my eyes. “If I die, it’s your damn fault.”

“Calm down.” Vito parked in front of Alexis’s house.

“I’m having trouble staying calm in general. This is not helping.”

Vito got out of the car and waited for me on the sidewalk. Reluctantly, I got out. For good measure, I pulled on my jacket. It was getting dark. Good enough. By the time we got to the door Alexis was waiting. She looked not happy. We followed her inside. Sal and Bobby were waiting inside. So was the don. Shit. Fuck.

DiGiovanni, Alexis, and Vito went into another room, leaving me with two angry looking thugs.

“Hey, guys.”

Nothing. Sal rubbed his shaved head. Bobby made absolutely no expression. This was going to be fun.

“You want something to drink?” I turned to go into the kitchen.

“Sit down,” Sal said.

“Fine.” I fell onto the couch. As far as they knew, I’d done them a massive favor. They could at least be cool about it.

We spent an awesome ten minutes in silence. Sal and Bobby were trying to have a staring contest with me. I made just enough eye contact for them to know I was aware of it, then pointedly, disinterestedly, looked away.

When the don and his lieutenants returned, Sal and Bobby sat up straighter. I did not.

“Cooper,” the don said.

“Mr. DiGiovanni.” I figured if we were saying names.

“I understand that I owe you a debt of gratitude.”

“Whatever.”

He stepped closer to me. From behind him, Vito gave me a hard look that made me get off my ass. As I stood, the don held out his hand. I shook it. He smelled like lavender, but with something musky underneath it. And cigarettes. The faintest aroma of smoke clung to him. My grandfather didn’t smell like this at all. He smelled like soap and newsprint and pine trees. I remembered sitting on my grandpa’s lap when I was a kid. He was always so warm. And he would always adjust his newspaper or book or whatever he was reading so he could see the pages and still have room for me.

Reese and Ryan didn’t talk about their grandfather much. From what I’d heard about him, I didn’t blame them. He was angry and self-obsessed and an all-around arrogant douche bag. And a fucking tool. A tool who smelled like lavender. Very odd.

The don gestured to Alexis who handed him a small duffle bag. Then he gave me the duffle. It was lightweight and a little bulky. Cash.

“For taking care of the problem,” he said.

“Huh?”

“My bastard of a grandson. Thank you for taking care of him.”

I looked in the bag and estimated. “Killing your grandson is only worth ten grand? So you’re cheap, in addition to being an asshole.”

He laughed. “You’re right, Vito. She is a spitfire.” Vito laughed too, but I could tell he was nervous.

“Alexis and the boys will escort you to a safe house. In a few days, we will have arranged for new identification and safe passage to Canada.” He expected me to fall at his feet and thank him. Fat fucking chance.

“Hell the fuck no.”

“Excuse me?” People probably didn’t tell him no very often.

“You leave me alone with Alexis and her boys”—I nodded in their hostile direction—“and I’ll be dead in an hour.”

Alexis smiled. “I have assured my uncle that I won’t kill you unless he tells me to.”

“Comforting.”

“Cooper, this is the safest option for you. On the street it will only be a matter of time until you are arrested.”

Not exactly true. But he didn’t need to know that a small faction of Chicago’s finest were trailing my ass with the Feds to make a fake arrest if this thing went south. More importantly, I hadn’t gotten enough information. Unless being an evil asshole was a crime. Which totally should have been.

I guess I was too quiet for too long because Vito said, “Cooper?”

“What?” I jerked a little when he said my name.

“Are you all right?”

“Uhh, yeah. I was trying to think of decent leverage to keep me alive, but I got nothing. So, please don’t kill me?” I realized after I said it that it was exactly what Reese had said. She was smart. Hopefully, she wasn’t prophetic.

The don leaned back and stared at me. He seemed to be vacillating between amused and disturbed. I’m not sure which emotion won because he blinked, shook his head a little, and stepped back.

“I recommend South America. You will like it. Or find a small island that does not extradite criminals. Good luck, Cooper.” He shook my hand a final time, then left faster than someone of his age should have been able to.

“Tell me when the car is ready.” Alexis spun on her heel and left the room.

Sal nodded in my direction. I followed him.

 

*

 

The safe house they took me to was in a suburban neighborhood outside the city limits. It looked like a lot of other suburban neighborhoods I’d been in. Sal pulled the town car into a garage. When the big door finished closing, Alexis let me climb off the floor where I’d been hiding.

Sal led me inside the house. I was given a room on the second floor and told to keep away from the windows. Bobby took the room across the hall. Sal took the one next to mine. Alexis claimed the master bedroom, obviously. But she left soon after we arrived. Bobby went out to get us some dinner.

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