Passion's Fury (The Doms of Passion Lake Book 2) (31 page)

Well, “someday” had finally arrived three years later and the favor Dominic had asked of him that day hadn’t been all that much.  Just ascertain the whereabouts of one Carlo Iacone.  Bullard had traced him to an address in Queens, New York, which information he had dutifully turned over to Tio Dominic.  He’d never asked what the old man had wanted with the information, figuring the less he knew, the better.  But in the end that hadn’t mattered.  The minute Carlo Iacone had turned up dead, it was too late for Bullard.  Slowly but surely he had been reeled in until he was routinely destroying evidence, planting false leads, threatening witnesses, and generally sabotaging nearly every case the D.A.’s office dared to bring against a member of the Righetti crime family.  He’d gotten so adept at it, not even Tony Angelino, his partner of eleven years, had suspected a thing.  Until Detective Angelino had received the order to place Detective John Bullard under arrest on Federal charges of racketeering, witness tampering, fraud, bribery, corruption, and accessory to murder.

Bullard sighed, watching the black Humvee turn left into a parking lot around three blocks up Main Street.  He drove slowly past, studying the large Victorian mansion that had been turned into Granny Grace’s Tea Shoppe and the smaller mansion beside it that was Granny Grace’s Toy Emporium.  The main entrance to the Tea Shoppe faced a tree-lined parking lot which was practically filled with cars.  Breakfast at The Tea Shoppe was obviously very popular.  There was another, separate parking area just beyond the toy emporium, the entrance to which faced the opposite direction from the tea shop.  But since the buildings were so close together, and both businesses were evidently owned by the same person…
hmmm.  Maybe there’s a way to get into the toy shop
through
the restaurant.  That way, I can sneak in there, get the drop on the bodyguard, snatch the Ferrell bitch and be gone before anyone raises the alarm.
  He shrugged.
  Not the best plan in the world, but it just might work.  And if it doesn’t?” 
He shrugged again. 
What the hell do I care?  I’ll be dead anyway.  But I’d sure love to teach that Ferrell bitch a lesson before I go.

Without slowing down, Bullard drove down to the next side street and turned left.  He drove past the unpaved alleyway running between Main Street and the parallel street behind it, turning left again at the stop sign.  Through the yards of the houses to his left, he could see the rear facades of the buildings on Main Street, noting that each business had its own back door. 
Excellent.  I’ll
park my car in the alley right outside the toy store’s back door
.  He quickly circled the block, once again driving past the parking lot, just in time to see the bodyguard wave to a petite blonde woman who’d just gotten out of her own car.  He went around to open the passenger door of the Humvee for that Ferrell bitch.  The guy kissed her, then remained where he was and watched the two women enter the toy shop together.

Bullard’s heart started to beat faster. 
Wait!  He’s not going in with them?  He’s staying outside in the car?
 
O
-kay!
  This cluster fuck of a plan just might work after all!  Oh, fuck! 
Just in time he managed to turn his head away and continue driving at his leisurely pace as the bodyguard turned his head to scan the street.  Bullard drove three additional blocks down through the center of town before doubling back to the beginning of the block where Granny Grace’s stores were located.  He drove down the alley and pulled behind the toy shop, parking just outside the back door.  Then, thrusting his hands in his pants pockets, he walked around the corner of the building and approached the main entrance to Granny Grace’s Tea Shoppe.  He stopped at the reception desk just inside the oak double doors.

“May I help you, Sir?” a pleasant female voice asked.  A pretty brunette wearing an old-fashioned high-necked blouse and a black floor-length skirt was standing behind the hostess stand.

“Oh, I certainly hope so”—he glanced at her name tag—“Naomi.”  Putting on his most charming smile, he leaned forward as if about to impart a confidence.  “I need your help.  I want to make dinner reservations for eight-thirty this evening.  Name’s Halliwell.  Ben Halliwell.  I want a very special table”—he leaned even further toward the pleasant-looking young woman and lowered his voice to just above a whisper—“you see, I’m planning to propose to my girlfriend.”

“Oh, sir, congratulations!”  Naomi gave him a bright smile.  “I’ll see to it that you get our alcove table—it’s our most secluded.”  He watched her enter the fake reservation into her computer.  “There.  You’re all set.”

“Oh, thank you, Naomi. Viveca will be thrilled.  Now.”  He placed one forearm on the counter and leaned in, a move that brought his face down to her level.  “I could use your help with another matter.  I would like to get her something from the toy shop, you know, kind of like a gag gift to give her along with the engagement ring?  Only, this is my only chance to get it.  She’s waiting for me out in the car.  Is there a way into the toy shop from here without having to go outside?  I don’t want her to see me going over there.”

“Sure,” the hostess said, pointing to a wide, curtained doorway.  “Just go through there, past the employees lounge and the restrooms.  The door at the end of the hall emerges into an enclosed breezeway that will take you right into the main showroom.”

“Oh, thank you so much.”  Bullard took her hand, pressing a piece of folded paper into it.  “You’ve been most kind.  I can’t wait to bring Vivian here tonight.”

Naomi’s smile dimmed a notch.  “I thought you said her name was Viveca.”

He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture.  “Sorry, I still get those two mixed up.  Twin sisters,” he confided, giving her a wink.  “Still have trouble keeping them apart.  We joke about it all the time.  Thanks for all your help.”

With an odd sense of disquiet, Naomi watched him stride silently across the patterned carpet toward the doorway that would take him into the toy store.  Except for that one slip of the tongue, Mr. Ben Halliwell had done and said all the right things, but there was just something about him that rubbed her the wrong way.  She felt sorry for Viveca or Vivian or whatever his girlfriend’s name was.  Then she looked down at the paper he’d given her.  It was a hundred dollar bill.

Back pressed against the wall, John Bullard drew his Glock out of his shoulder holster and cautiously opened the door just a crack.  The only thing that he could see through the slit was the back wall of the toy emporium, with its geometric display of floggers, whips, and other instruments venerated by the world of kink.  Pushing the door open a little bit farther, he could see the long, double-sided display counter.  Nobody was behind it, but he could hear female voices talking.  They seemed to be coming from the far end of the store.  He stepped through the door into the shop.  Crouching down, pistol leading the way, he wound his way through a maze of stands and revolving racks, heading toward the voices.  There were three of them, as far as he could make out, but he still couldn’t see who they belonged to.  Until he approached a row of doors along the wall to his left.  Dressing rooms.  The three voices seemed to be coming from one of them.  The middle door opened abruptly, startling him, and a woman exited, looking back over her shoulder and saying, “I’ll get that one for you.”  But that was all she said as he leaped forward and clapped his hand over her mouth, dragging her back against him, jamming the pistol against her temple.  Placing his mouth directly over her ear, he whispered, “Don’t make a sound, bitch, or you’re fucking dead.  Clear?”

Eyes wide with terror, she nodded.

Pocketing the pistol, he shifted her in his arms and wrapped his hand around her neck, feeling for her carotid artery on one side and jugular vein on the other with his fingertips and thumb, a handy trick he’d learned from one of Righetti’s wise guys.  Then he squeezed.  Within seconds she slumped, unconscious in his arms.  He dragged her into one of the empty dressing rooms and dropped her unceremoniously onto the floor before the middle door opened again partway and a female voice called, “Sharon?”

Bullard froze.  It wasn’t Ferrell.  So it had to be the blond he’d seen
with
Ferrell. 

“Sharon?  Bring that sapphire blue dress, too.”  She giggled.  “You know, the one with the really low back?  I think I finally managed to talk Kylie into trying it on.  And if she doesn’t, I will.”  There was a pause and Bullard used it to creep silently behind the door just as it opened and the petite woman he’d seen in the parking lot stepped out.  “Sharon?  You out here?  Where’d you go?”

She didn’t have a chance to find out as Bullard immediately grabbed her from behind, as he had Sharon, giving her the same neck pinch and rendering her instantly unconscious.  Knowing the women were likely to wake up any second now, he stepped into the dressing room.  The Ferrell bitch had just enough time to glance up and recognize him.  He watched as her eyes filled with panic and she drew in a breath to scream, but a hard punch to the jaw knocked her head back against the mirror, so hard it cracked the glass.  Immediately her legs buckled.  Fortunately he caught her before she crumpled to the floor, shoving his shoulder into her stomach and lifting her in an awkward fireman’s carry. 
Christ, she weighs a ton! 

He staggered out of the dressing room, stepped over the unconscious blonde and made his way toward the back of the building.  Fortunately, there was no alarm on the back door.  He unlocked it, stepped through and down a short flight of concrete steps to his waiting car. 

Popping the trunk, he just dumped her unceremoniously inside.  He needed to get to a secluded place before he could tie her up and keep her from any attention-getting schemes, like kicking out the tail lights or something.  But right now, he had to get away from here before one of those bitches inside sounded the alarm and he was spotted.  Skin crawling with fear, he drove down the alley, ignoring every instinct honed over twenty years as a homicide detective to gun the engine and get the hell out of there.  He drove sedately, like a ninety-year-old grandmother, his skin clammy and cold with the fear of being discovered and stopped before he had a chance to give that Ferrell bitch the unpleasant death she deserved.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The opening door caught Ash’s attention.  He turned his head just in time to see Leah stagger outside, a look of utter panic on her face.  “Leah!” he yelled, sprinting toward her, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket and punching Caleb’s number.  He caught her just before she collapsed onto the porch floor.  “Oh, my God!  Leah, what is it?  What happened?”

“Yeah, Ash?” Caleb said, but Ash didn’t hear him.  His heart was hammering so loudly in his ears, it sounded like thunder.  Going down to one knee, he cradled Leah in his arm, gently tapping the side of her jaw to try and stimulate her.  “Leah.  Leah!  Wake up!”  Every instinct he had was screaming at him to get the fuck inside the store and find out what happened to Kylie, but his best friend’s woman needed help right here, right now, and they were all sworn to look after each other’s women as if they were their own..  “Leah, sweetie, wake up!  Where’s Kylie?”

“Ash!”  Caleb’s voice, louder this time.

Leah’s eyes blinked open, but her stare was vacant, and Ash was swept with a terror so cold it froze his blood.  What the fuck had happened here?

“Ash!” Caleb’s shout finally made itself heard over the drumbeat of Ash’s heart.  “What the fuck is going on?”

“Trouble,” Ash ground out.  “Get your ass over here!  Get Lucas and Clay over here, too.  Now!”

Dropping his phone into Leah’s lap, he slid his arms beneath her back and knees, rising with her.  He carried her back into the store, immediately spotting Sharon, who was just coming out of one of the dressing rooms, hanging onto the doorframe as if it were a lifeline.

“Sharon, what happened?  Where’s Kylie?”

She just turned her head and looked vaguely toward the room next to the one she’d just exited.  “I—she’s—”

Cursing beneath his breath, Ash ran into the vacant dressing room and deposited Leah carefully on the padded bench, not even bothering to shove the discarded dresses to the side.  When he started to straighten up, she grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him back down.  “Kylie.  She was in here…”

“She’s gone,” he said grimly, pawing through the dresses on the bench, searching for Kylie’s purse.  He found it and opened it, hoping against hope that he wouldn’t find her cell phone.  But there it was.  Their only lifeline to Kylie.  And he was holding it in his hand.  He looked over at Sharon standing in the open doorway.  “Did you see who did this?” he asked.

She shook her head.  “No, he came up behind me.  He put his hand around my neck, I thought he was going to choke me to death.  Then…nothing.”  She lifted her hand to her neck, rubbing it gingerly.  “I just…sort of…blacked out.”

“Sleeper hold,” Ash said grimly.  He turned his head to see what the sudden commotion at the door was.  It was Caleb, striding swiftly across the floor toward them.  “Stay with Leah!” Ash barked at Sharon.  “I’m gonna go check outside.”  He ran to the back door of the toy shop and yanked it open.

There was nothing outside to show that anyone had been there.  Except…he ran down the stairs and picked up the black ballet flat that Kylie had put on this morning.  He looked up and down the empty alley.  Nothing.  Not even tire tracks in the hard-packed earth.  Agony ripped through him. 
God damn it!  Bullard!  He snatched her right out from under my fuckin’ nose!  I should have been
with
her!  Inside the store, where I could have prevented this!  I should have—how the fuck did he get past me? 
Ash’s shoulders slumped and he barely kept himself from dropping to his knees and howling with anguish.  His throat grew so thick, he feared he would suffocate.  Straightening with difficulty, fighting tears, he went back inside, carrying the shoe.  He handed it to Caleb, whose haunted expression was a mirror of his own.

“What about her cell phone?” Caleb asked through a throat tight with unshed tears.  “It has GPS.  Maybe we can track her—”He stopped as Ash shoved Kylie’s pink phone at him.

Another commotion at the door heralded the entrance of Dr. Lucas McKay, followed closely by Clay Nighthorse and Simon.

“Where is she?” Clay demanded before he was barely inside the door.  Ash knew he wasn’t referring to Kylie, so he pointed to the dressing room where Leah was.  Lucas McKay went straight to Sharon.  Grabbing her wrist in one hand, he checked her pulse, while touching his fingers to her forehead, noting her dilated pupils.  “Sleeper hold?” he asked Ash without looking away from Sharon.

“Looks like.”

Clay scooped Leah up and sat on the bench with her in his lap, rocking her back and forth, trying to soothe her

“Did you see who took Kylie?” Caleb asked.  “His car?  Anything?”

‘No.”  Ash could barely choke out the words.  “It had to be John Bullard.  He must have entered through the restaurant.  I didn’t see a damn thing.”

“I’ll go check with the hostess,” Simon strode off toward the door connecting the two businesses, urgency in every step.

Caleb nodded absently, dialing a number on his cell phone and pressing speaker.

“Caleb, what’s up?” Jason Ingram’s voice sounded a bit distracted.

“I need all the information you can find on one John Bullard, a Philadelphia PD detective.  His finances, his car, most importantly, any property he owns either separately or with his wife, Lenora Righetti.  Or any property left to him by his parents or grandparents.”

“When do you need it?”

“Now,” Caleb snapped.  “And by now I mean yesterday.  He kidnapped Kylie.”

“Holy Shit!”  Jason no longer sounded distracted.  “I’ll get right on it and get back to you ASAP.”

Ash walked over to the dressing room containing Clay, Lucas, and Leah.  “How is she, Luc?”

“She’s still a little groggy.  I don’t like how long it’s taking her to come out of this.  Sharon’s faring only a little better.  I’d like to take both of them to Marshall County Medical Center for an MRI.  You can’t take any chances with a sleeper hold.  Brain damage is always a possibility, so we need to check that.  I’ve already taken the liberty of arranging transport for them in a private ambulance.”

“Oh, Sheriff Rafferty, I’m so sorry, I had no idea!”  A very distraught Naomi, accompanied by Simon and Granny Grace rushed into the store.  She approached him, wringing her hands, tears rolling down her cheeks.  “He seemed so nice, said his name was Ben Halliwell.  Made reservations for dinner tonight.  He was going to propose to his girlfriend and he wanted to get her a gag gift from the toy shop.”  Her face crumpled and she buried it in her hands.  “Oh, God, I’m so sorry.  This is all my fault.”

“Nonsense, Naomi,” Granny Grace said sternly.  “This is absolutely not your fault.”  She looked at Caleb.  “Sheriff, is there anything we can do to help?  Anything at all?”

“Did anyone notice him come into the tea room?” Caleb asked.  “Or see what kind of car he was driving?”

“No one,” Simon answered, running his hand frantically through his thick, black hair.  He looked at Ash, unable to hide his fear.  “There’s nothing outside?  No tire tracks?  No—”

“Damn it, don’t you think I looked?” Ash snapped.  “Don’t you think if there was anything there, I would have seen it?”  The tears in his eyes finally spilled over.  He didn’t even bother swiping them away.

Simon clapped his hand over the nape of his brother’s neck and hung his head.  “Sorry, bro.  I’m not blamin’ you—”

“You should!” Ash’s tone was bitter.  “God knows I blame myself!  I never should have let her and Leah come in here alone.”

“There’s no way you could have anticipated this, Ash,” Caleb looked down at the screen on his phone.  “We’re not wasting one second of our time blaming either ourselves or one another.  This is a retrieval op and we’re going to work it like one.  We’ll find her, if it’s the last thing we do.  Meanwhile, we need to concentrate on finding out where he might be taking her so we can get her back.”  He closed the distance between himself and Naomi, showing her the image on his screen.  “Is this Ben Halliwell?”

“Yes.”  Naomi nodded her head.  “That’s him.  E-except he was wearing dark-rimmed glasses and had a little mustache and goatee.”

“Thanks, Naomi.  Granny Grace, we’ll be outta here in just a few minutes.”

“Take all the time you need, Sheriff.  We are officially closed for the rest of the day.  Naomi, dear, would you flip the sign, please?”  As Naomi went to the door to turn the sign from Open to Closed, Granny Grace looked up as Sharon approached, leaning on Dr. Lucas McKay’s arm.  “Sharon, dear, how are you feeling?”

“I’m fine, Granny.  But Dr. McKay insists that I get an MRI.”  She looked up at him.  “Do you mind if I get my purse?”

“Not at all.”

“I’ll get it,” Grace Porter offered.  “Is it behind the counter?”

“Yes, under the cash register.”

The elderly woman walked regally over to the end of the counter and around behind it, bending down to retrieve Sharon’s purse.  She handed it to Sharon, who dug around inside, looking for her cell phone.  “Thanks, Granny.  I’ll call you as soon as the doctor releases me.”

“Balderdash!  I’m going with you!”

“Oh, no, ma’am, I wouldn’t dream—”

“Kindly do not argue with me, young lady,” Grace said with a trace of asperity.  “It’s a waste of time and energy and at my age, I don’t have much of either left to spare.”

Car doors slammed outside.  “I believe the ambulances have arrived,” Lucas murmured.  Clay emerged from the dressing room carrying Leah just as two teams of paramedics entered the shop pushing gurneys.

“Clay, put me down,” Leah insisted, “I can walk.”

“I don’t want you to get dizzy.”

“I won’t get dizzy, I promise.”

He eyed her skeptically, but he finally put her down, not fully releasing her until he was certain she could stand on her own.

She walked straight over to Ash and threw her arms around his waist.  “I’m so sorry, Ash.  It all happened so fast, I-I feel like I let her down.  I let all of you down.”

“Nonsense, Leah,” Caleb said briskly.  “It wasn’t your fault.”  He glared at his two brothers.  “It wasn’t anybody’s fault.”

“Please find her,” she begged them.  “And when you do, I want you to give the asshole who took her a swift kick in the nuts for me.”

Clay cleared his throat, hiding the bark of laughter that nearly slipped out.  “Caleb,” Clay said as he approached, “if there’s anything I can do to help—”

“Thanks, man, we can handle it.  You look after your woman.”

Leah looked at the doctor.  “Lucas, I don’t need to go to the hospital.  I want to stay here and help.”

“There’s nothin’ you can do here,” Clay assured her.  “Caleb and his brothers know what they’re doin’, sugar.  We need to let them do it.  And we need to get you to the hospital.”

“But there’s nothing wrong with me.  Honestly, I feel fine.”

“It’s just a precaution, Leah.”  Luc gave her an assessing look.  She was still a bit too glassy-eyed for his liking.  “Cutting off the blood supply to the brain like Bullard did, by squeezing the carotid artery and the jugular vein, is extremely dangerous and often results in permanent brain damage.  Not that I think there is any in this case,” he added hastily, “but
I’ll
feel a lot better if I can see that for myself.”  He turned to Clay.  “Clay, you wanna ride with me or in the ambulance with Leah?”

Clay snorted.  “Like there’s any question?”

Luc just grinned.  “Grace and I will follow in my car, then, so I can bring everybody back home.”  He sketched an elegant bow.  “Mrs. Porter?” he murmured, extending his elbow for Granny Grace to take.

“Why, thank you, young man.”  She tucked her small hand in the crook of his elbow and inclined her head with a regal hauteur befitting an Edwardian
grande dame
.  “Such lovely manners.  So rare in this day and age.”

The paramedics assisted Leah and Sharon onto the gurneys and started rolling them toward the door, followed by Clay, then Luc and Granny Grace.  “Naomi, dear, would you lock up after us, please?” she called back over her shoulder.

The Rafferty brothers followed the odd little procession out the door and down the steps to the waiting ambulances.  Clay shook all their hands and pulled each of them into a brief hug.  “Promise me you’ll call the instant you find her,” he said.  “Leah will worry herself sick until she knows that Kylie’s safe.”

“We promise,” Caleb clapped him on the shoulder.  Lucas McKay backed his Escalade out of the parking space and followed the ambulances out of the lot.  The ambulances hit their lights and sirens and took off down Main Street.

Caleb, Ash, and Simon walked over to Caleb’s patrol car, a black Land Rover with Passion Lake Security painted in gold letters on the door.  Caleb placed his phone on the hood of the car and leaned over it, bracing himself on his hands, staring at it as if he were willing it to ring.  “C’mon, Jason, c’mon,” he muttered over and over.  “Hurry up.  Tell us what we need to know.”

“You think he’ll take her back to Philly?” Simon asked.

“I doubt it.  He’s a wanted man. Too many people lookin’ for him in Philly. I think he’ll take her to someplace where he feels safe.  Someplace secluded where he can be alone with her.  We just need to figure out where that place is.”  He looked at Simon, trying to keep the despair from showing in his eyes.  It sliced into him like a million icy blades, freezing him to the marrow of his bones.