Forced Out (35 page)

The trick would be getting back out of the den--without doing it zipped up in a body bag.

To do that, to be able to leave here still breathing, he'd have to offer something tasty. Something even more delicious than that nearly raw rib eye the old man had just taken the last bite of. And Johnny was confident he knew what that was. Felt certain he could negotiate his way through the minefield. Just as long as they didn't cap him before he even had a chance to start talking.

Of course, Angelo Marconi never--
absolutely never
--negotiated with
anyone
over the telephone. Never even spoke to anyone on the phone himself because he was ever fearful of the law listening in. Always had Nicky talk on the phone because he was terrified of spending his last few years wasting away in a federal pen. Which was why Johnny had been forced into taking this awful risk. Forced into entering the den. To make the offer, he
had
to make it in person.

"I need to ask you something," Johnny began, somehow making his voice sound strong despite the pain shooting through his body. He needed to clean the wound as soon as possible--there was dried blood caked all over the left side of his chest and stomach. But what he really needed was a month of sleep. Which, unfortunately, he wasn't going to get. Not anytime soon. In fact, he was booked on an early flight to Florida tomorrow morning. At least he'd get a little shut-eye before heading to LaGuardia. Then a few more hours on the plane before everything went crazy. "Angelo, I need your permission to--"

"Do you know where Kyle McLean is?" Marconi interrupted. "This whole thing has taken too long, Deuce. Way too long. Frankly, I didn't think it would take more than a week. And another thing, I thought you moved too slow on McLean's mother. On Helen McLean. You gave her time to get out." His eyes narrowed. "I just hope you didn't have anything to do with her getting out. I put some damn good people on tracking her down, but they haven't come up with anything yet, and it seems kinda odd to me that she's gone without a trace. I just don't think of a woman like that being Houdini. So lemme ask you again. Do you know where Kyle McLean is?"

Johnny knew his answer wouldn't go over very well, but he had to make certain Marconi understood right away this wasn't a Q&A session. That it was a negotiation. He just prayed to God he was right about Marconi's primary objective in all this. "Maybe." Marconi's eyes bugged out for a split second, then he leaned back and smiled angrily, regaining control quickly despite the rage boiling inside. "Johnny, Johnny, Johnny." He chuckled like a father who was about to administer the belt to a pair of disobedient bareass cheeks. It was the warning chuckle. Johnny'd recognize it anytime, anywhere. And it raised the hairs on the back of his neck. Scared him right down to his socks. It was the chuckle Marconi used right before he told Johnny who he wanted hit. It was the way he'd chuckled when he ordered Johnny to kill Kyle McLean a few weeks ago.

"Okay, lemme ask you another question." Marconi pointed a fat finger at Johnny. "You kill Ricky Strazza today?"

Johnny was ready to go right at this one because he'd come up with a perfect answer. He said a quick prayer, then began. "Yeah, I did. He was following me, Angelo, and it scared me. I figured he'd turned colors and was working for one of the other families. That was the only thing that made sense. I was gonna call you, but I didn't have time. I had my opportunity, so I took it. I shot him dead, that bastard traitor." Marconi was about to say something, then stopped. He could tell he'd headed the old man off at the pass with the traitor accusation. "I figured Strazza was gonna hit me. Figured he was working for the Capellettis. That it was payback for me killing that capo for you down in Staten Island. Like I said. That was all that fit. So I made my move. Figured you'd be happy about it. Not pissed."

Marconi gazed at Johnny for a few moments, touching his throat gently like it was sore. Johnny knew the old man was trying to figure out what was truth and what wasn't. It wasn't like Marconi could have Nicky pick up the phone, make one call and find out if Strazza was a traitor. It would take more than a few calls and probably a week or so for him to get a straight answer. Thank God Marconi had far too much faith in the rumor mill to ignore it.

"Johnny," Marconi spoke up quietly, "I, I don't know what to say." He'd never seen the old man at a loss for words like this. It was incredible, and he had to press his advantage. "Like I said, Angelo. I didn't have a choice. I had to protect--"

"All right!"
Marconi barked, frustrated.
"Shut up and lemme--"
The bedroom door burst open and the new bodyguard leveled a pistol at Johnny's chest.

"Don't move, Bondano!" the guy ordered. "You all right, boss?" he asked, not taking his eyes off Johnny.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. But good work." Marconi smiled, obviously satisfied at his new bodyguard's lightning-quick response to his raised voice. He waved. "Leave us. But don't go too far."

"Yes, sir."

When the door was closed again, Johnny slumped down in his chair and took a deep breath.

"What's the matter, Deuce?" Marconi asked, pulling a long cigar from his shirt pocket.

"Little strange being on the wrong end of a gun?"

"Yeah," Johnny whispered. It was, too. Though he'd been shot twice now, he'd never actually seen the gun aimed at him either time. The bullets had come from nowhere. Out of the darkness, so to speak. Like today, through the roof of Strazza's car. In all his years in this business, he'd never actually seen a gun pointed at him, he realized. Hoped he never did again. It was better when the bullet came from the dark.

"So where's Kyle McLean?" Marconi demanded when the cigar was lit. Johnny drew himself up in the chair, searching for the courage to lay it all out. "I wanna kill Tony Treviso. I'll kill McLean first," Johnny added quickly when Marconi's eyes bugged out again. He didn't want Marconi to start yelling again and have that crazy prick outside the door bursting in here a second time. The guy might not show as much restraint the next time. For all his bravado, he seemed pretty inexperienced. Fidgety, too. Which was never good when a guy had a gun in his hand. Especially when he was aiming it at you. "McLean'll be dead in less than seventy-two hours, Angelo. I guarantee it. I'll bring a picture of him capped, like I have with the other guys. A close-up of the head shot. You'll know he's iced. Then I want to kill Treviso. I want your permission to do that when McLean is dead."

Marconi puffed on the cigar for a few moments, mulling it over. "Less than seventy-two hours?"

"Yeah. At most. I guarantee you. He's a dead man. All right?" Marconi stared at Johnny hard, then gave him a half grin. "I like it." Relief poured through Johnny. Words were one thing, but that half grin meant Marconi was really in. He recognized it the same way he'd recognized the death chuckle earlier. The caterpillar over his eyes was gone, too. "Good."

"Hey, why you wanna kill Tony Treviso?" Marconi asked.

"He's getting in the way."

Marconi snickered. "Timid Tony couldn't get in the way of anything. Wouldn't know how. I mean, I know about that rumor and all, about him killing the guy. It isn't true. Can't be." Marconi hesitated. "What's really going on?"

"I don't want any screwups. Treviso's gonna be pissed when he finds out McLean's dead and he didn't get a chance to--"

"You like his wife, don't you?"

"What?"

"Come on, Deuce, we all like his wife. She's beautiful. One of the guys on the council wanted to ice Treviso so he could go after her. He wasn't really serious, of course. At least I don't think he was. If he had been, I woulda said no. But for you, I could make an exception." Marconi gave Johnny a sinister smile. "Come on, tell me."

"Angelo, I don't--"

"All right, all right," the old man interrupted, sucking down more cigar smoke. It was like Marconi wanted Johnny to want Karen. Like he was getting some kind of sadistic pleasure thinking about Johnny killing Treviso so he could have Karen. Like he was picturing what Karen would look like in bed nude.

Marconi shrugged. "Hey. You don't wanna tell me, you don't gotta." He pulled the cigar from his mouth and eyed the colorful band identifying its Cuban maker. "So you figured out McLean really did it? You're convinced he was the one who killed my grandson?" Tony Treviso had run over the little boy. No doubt. Probably as he and Paulie squealed out to go after McLean, Johnny figured. The trip to the body shop and the owner's admission had proven once and for all who had killed the little boy. But it didn't matter anymore. Johnny had made his decision. He wanted Karen Treviso, wanted her for his own. And he didn't want her psychopathic husband and his ape friend Paulie the Moon trying to track him down the rest of his life. With Marconi's permission to make the hit, that would never happen. Treviso would be dead, and Paulie would never seek revenge if Marconi had okayed the killing. It was too bad for Kyle McLean--and Helen--but that's how it was going to be. He was waving good-bye to his code of honor forever. Nuking it. But maybe Marconi was right after all, maybe it was stupid. Killing was killing. There wasn't any honor when it came to killing. Maybe not even on the battlefield.

"Yeah," Johnny said quietly but firmly, "McLean killed him." He couldn't second-guess himself now. He had a passionate sense of purpose about something other than killing for the first time in a long time, and nothing was going to distract him from it. He wanted Karen Treviso, and nothing else mattered. If he tried telling Marconi the truth, that his grandson's killer was really Treviso, that might throw a monkey wrench into everything. Marconi might stop the process, might want to dig deeper for confirmation. No way in hell that was going to happen. This way it was all neat and tidy. He got Karen, he killed her husband himself with permission from the boss, and he made a million bucks. "There's no doubt about it."

* * *

Johnny lay sprawled on his back on the bed. Karen lay next to him on her left side, head resting on the pillow next to his. She was caressing his head with her long fingernails. She'd asked over and over what had happened, what was wrong with his shoulder, why he looked so pale. He'd told her a story about falling down some stairs. The same story he'd told Helen McLean, who at this point was tied up tightly in the trunk of the Seville, a washcloth from the Happy Go Lucky Motel stuffed down her throat. He'd been forced to be rough with Helen--very rough--to break her down fast. To get her to tell him where Kyle was. He'd done some awful things to her. Things he'd pay for dearly on Judgment Day. But there'd been no other way. She wasn't just going to tell him. He grimaced. He was almost as good at torturing as he was at killing. So maybe it wasn't Treviso the devil would call his friend, Johnny realized. Maybe it was really him. And the problem with being a friend of the devil was that he always turned his back on you in the end. It was simply a matter of time.

Turned out Kyle McLean was in Sarasota, Florida, playing baseball for some crappy minor-league team. Turned out he was playing under an assumed name: Mikey Clemant. It wasn't going to be real hard finding him now. Well, at least he'd done all those horrible things to Helen in the name of true love. He grimaced again. Jesus, how hollow and selfserving did that sound?

Treviso was up in the Bronx again with Paulie the Moon, boozing it up at the same place as before. Johnny had the same eye behind the bar ready to let him know when Treviso left. He had it all worked out. He just wanted to see Karen one more time before he went to Sarasota. Seemed like Karen was the only good thing in his life right now, and he needed his fix of her to get him through the next few days. To make him feel better about what he'd done.

When he first got to Treviso's apartment, he thought about making love to her, but his shoulder hurt too bad. But damn, her fingernails felt good running through his hair and over his chest, even though he'd kept his shirt on so she wouldn't see the wound. Right now it felt almost as good as making love.

"You're warm, Johnny," she whispered. "Are you sick?"

"I'm fine." Amazingly, he really did feel better now that he'd been lying here for thirty minutes with the woman he loved. The pain in his shoulder had eased thanks to her gentle caresses. "Really."

"Can I fix you some coffee or tea?"

"Nah, but thanks. What you're doing feels great. Don't stop." She rolled onto her back and started caressing him again. "What are we gonna do, Johnny?"

He glanced over at her. Hadn't she just heard him? "What do you mean?"

"We can't keep sneaking around like this, you can't keep coming here. Sooner or later Tony will figure out what's going on. We both know what'll happen then."

"I got it all worked out," Johnny said confidently. "Everything. We're gonna be together, Karen. You're not gonna have to worry about that prick husband of yours ever again. And I'm gonna take care of your kid, too," he added. "I mean it. I will. I'll treat him like he's my own. I been thinking a lot about this."

She rolled quickly back onto her side so she was facing him. "Are you serious?" she asked excitedly. "Really, Johnny?"

"Really, Karen. I'm committed." He was, too.

"O God." She kissed his cheek. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too. I really do."

"So what are you gonna do?" she asked excitedly.

"I'll tell you everything later," he answered, raising up with a groan and swinging his legs slowly to the floor. He hated to tear himself away from her touches, but it was after ten-thirty. He had to get back to his apartment and get some sleep. He had to be up at six in the morning to make his flight down to Florida. The good thing was, he'd be able to stay in his own place in Tampa. "When I get back from my trip, I'll lay it all out."

"Trip?" she asked, rising up on her knees, then shaking her long, dark hair. Arching her back and running her hands over her breasts and down her flat belly. Johnny took a deep breath. She was so gorgeous. It was like being on a drug watching her. And now that he'd decided to have her, he started to understand what Treviso went through every day. That awful insecurity of wondering if today was the day she'd meet her next prince. If today was the day the natural selection process--nature's most powerful force--would make her move. "Yeah. I gotta go away for a few days," he finally said, promising himself that this would be the last trip he'd ever take without her. He wasn't going to give any man any chance to take his place. And he'd kill him if he tried.