Full Tilt (Rock Star Chronicles) (33 page)

Karen burst through the door to Wesley’s hospital room, making Sheila and him recoil.

“That was Madison! She and Everett and Eddie are in trouble at your house.”

“Oh my word.” Sheila wheeled around from Wesley’s bedside. “What on earth—?”

“It’s the mob family. They’re after Eddie.” She shook Sheila’s shoulder. “Can I take your car?”

“Well, I’m coming too.” She staggered to her feet.

“Keys, Sheila! Where’re your keys?”

“Right here.” She picked up her purse.

Karen grabbed it from her, took a last glance at Wesley, and booked for the door.

“Wait up!” Sheila called.

Karen made a beeline for the elevators, hit the down button, and sighed as Sheila lumbered toward her down the long hallway. Karen scanned the area for stairs but saw none. She took in an enormous breath, closed her eyes, and prayed for angels to guard her loved ones.

It seemed to take forever to get to the lobby and make for the exit.

“What are you driving?” Karen said, as the large double-glass doors parted.

“My green Lexus,” Sheila said from four steps back.

“Where?”

“Straight across. First level. I’ll show you.”

The cold wind whipped beneath the huge concrete overhang, howling and buffeting them as they trudged across the drop-off lane, passing an assortment of people who were heading inside.

A heavy man in his fifties pushed a bony, blond woman bundled in a wheelchair; two nurses passed them with their arms crossed; behind them came a young man sucking every last carcinogen out of a glowing cigarette nub before flicking it to the ground.

Wait.

Karen did a double take.

Black trench coat.

But they had to hurry.

“It’ll be straight ahead when we get in the deck,” Sheila murmured. “I counted the rows when I parked. Let’s see, was it nine?”

Gray ski cap.

“I can never remember…”

Dirty work boots.

“I think you better drive, Karen.”

That was Tony Badino.

With his arms locked in front of him, the .45 bolted to his hands, and what felt like fifty thousand watts of electricity surging through his trembling body, Everett burst into the basement apartment, zeroing in on one thing—the wiseguy’s hands. As he’d hoped, they clung to outstretched duct tape and a clumsily held revolver.

“Drop everything
now
!”

The tape dropped. So did the weapon.

Everett was on the kneeling man as quick as a wasp, burying the nose of the pistol hard into his upper back. “Facedown. On your stomach! Hands behind you.”

Eddie rolled off the couch onto the floor, where he scrambled to retrieve his guns.

“Tape his hands,” Everett told him.

But his brother attacked instead, ramming both knees into the intruder’s back, causing him to grunt as he bounced off the ground. Then Eddie smashed the barrel of one of the guns into the man’s temple.

“I should kill you right now!” Eddie screamed. “You—”

“Get off him!” Everett slammed his brother to the ground. “Do what I say. Tape him. Now!”

Eddie’s hair was glistening with sweat, and his brown eyes jumped wildly.

“Hurry!” Everett growled with gun drawn.

Hesitantly, Eddie set his weapons down and picked up the tape.

“Ahhh!” Madison’s fingers shook at her mouth as her eyes enlarged and fixated on the door leading to the porch.

Before Everett could turn, he was being told not to move one single nerve, and to drop his gun. He did so. The second his weapon hit the carpet, his brother was in motion, rolling, grabbing one of the weapons on the floor, and firing.

An explosion of light blinded Everett. But seconds later, both men in the doorway were still standing, still coming.

In a blur, the hostage on the floor arose. His fat arm latched around Eddie’s neck from behind and ratcheted tight. Madison squealed as Everett reached out for his brother, who was gasping for breath.

Then the sirens.

One of the men who’d just entered collected the guns while the other—a slender, pockmarked-faced man with black sunglasses—kept his weapon on Everett and Madison. “You two move and you’re dead. No more games. Come on, Sonny.” He wound his gun at the henchman choking Eddie. “Bring him to the car. Quick.”

“What about him?” Sonny grunted, nodding at Everett as he dragged Eddie across the room. “After what he’s put us through…”

“No,” the leader said. “Those aren’t the orders. Come on.”

“Oh, that’s right,” Sonny mocked, out of breath, “you’re bein’ saved for a higher purpose.” Then his daffy smile morphed into a wicked scowl. “We’ll be seein’ you again real soon, little brother. This ain’t no free pass.”

As the three mobsters merged in the center of the room and backed their way to the stairs, Eddie reached out to Madison. His fingers spread like the spokes on a bike. “I love you, baby…”

Madison cried out and covered her quivering mouth with one hand.

“Tell Wesley I’m sorry,” Eddie pleaded. “I wish I could have been a better dad.”

As they started up the steps, Madison inched toward them. “I love you,” she wailed. “Please, Daddy, believe in Jesus. Will you do that? Please! For me? I’m begging you, before it’s too late—”

“Tell your mother,” Eddie said, “I never stopped loving her.”

Madison moved to the bottom of the steps, her whole body trembling.

“Stop there, missy,” one of them said. “Don’t you set one foot on those steps.”

“Please, Daddy!” She bawled, with her outstretched hands shuddering. “I want to be with you in heaven. I’ll see you there. Okay, Daddy? Okay?”

And with that, Eddie Lester was gone.

34

EARLY THE NEXT MORNING
, Karen took solace in the stillness of the den and the ticking of the grandfather clock as she stared out the window at the many media vehicles that had converged on Twin Streams. Outside in the rain, reporters huddled with steaming coffee beneath umbrellas and with cigarettes in the back of TV trucks.

In somewhat of a fog, Karen repeated the verses she’d clung to of late: “Who can be compared with God enthroned on high?… He gives children to the childless wife, so that she becomes a happy mother.”

She closed her eyes. Would they ever see Eddie again? And what would become of Wesley and Sheila? Such enormous hurdles stood in front of them.
And here you are, dwelling on your infertility.

Then something told her not to be down on herself, that God wanted all of her cares, and that if she would petition Him, He would give her peace unsurpassed.

She desperately needed such peace as she faced the fact that, overnight, the news of Eddie’s abduction had traveled across the nation at the speed of a tsunami. CNN reported that the brother of famed rocker Everett Lester may have been kidnapped from his White Plains estate by modern-day mobsters associated with Dominic “Machine Gun” Mendazzo and his infamous Mafia family, the same group suspected of a gangland-style murder in Canarsie several weeks earlier.

Karen walked into the family room and snuggled up next to Everett on the loveseat as CNN showed footage of Eddie’s estate in the aftermath of his abduction.

Her parents were glued to the TV as well, coffees in hand. Cameras from the previous day had caught special tactics crews combing the Amanti and Yukon for bombs, and blurry, distant images of Everett and Madison inside the house speaking with detectives.

The station also broadcast a live, early morning feed from the Pelham Village home of Dominic Badino, who was being taken into custody for questioning by the NYPD. Wearing a grey Stetson, sunglasses, and a velour sweatsuit, Badino was escorted from his home by a tough-looking crew of plainclothes detectives.

Everett pointed out a frantic Margaret Badino, wearing a bathrobe and shuffling along behind her husband with her hands to her mouth in the prayer position, clutching a strand of rosary beads.

When the news update ended and Everett flicked off the TV, his thick brown eyebrows looked almost black against his ashen face. “I thought we were in trouble before.” He paced. “We’ve got to do something. Eddie told me Badino owns half the NYPD. They’re not gonna keep him; he’s gonna walk.”

“Okay, calm down,” Jacob said. “We’ve been through tight spots like this before.”

“Yeah, and I’m the one who always puts us here! This is nuts. These dudes are cold-blooded killers. We’re all in danger—not just me!”

“Keep your voice down, babe,” Karen said. “Sheila’s still asleep.”

“I just don’t know if you realize how serious this is.” Everett pleaded. “They wired both of Eddie’s cars! I saw the look on those wiseguys’ faces yesterday. These are not normal people; they kill with no conscience.”

He turned to Dad and Mom. “Maybe I should go back to Badino…”

“And do what? There’s no reasoning with him,” Dad said. “You show up on his doorstep again, after accusing his son of murder, and—”

“Jacob…” Mom cut him off.

“All I’m saying is, there’re certain people who are just hardened. It’s like they’re destined for evil. You can’t talk sense to someone like that.”

“Maybe we should cancel the tour.” Everett marched toward the window.

Karen stood and threw her hands up. “That’s exactly what Satan wants! If we cancel, we’re not going through a door God wants us to go through—one He’s thrown wide open!”

Everett crossed his arms and sighed as rain ticked against the windows.

“We can’t stop living because of this,” Karen whispered. “God’s given us these fields—they’re ripe for harvest.”

“You know I don’t want to cancel,” Everett said. “That’s the last thing I want. But I’m worried about your safety.”

Thunder rumbled and shook the old house. Rosey came running in from the kitchen and plopped down at Dad’s feet.

“I think you’re going to be better off away from here,” Mom said. “I mean, surely they’re not going to follow us out on tour.”

“Look, we can sit here all day and fret about all the things they may do.” Her dad stood. “That Scripture kept coming to me all night: ‘To live is Christ and to die is gain.’ I just feel like God’s saying, ‘You can live flat-out for Me. Boldly. Even during this trial.’ And if something should happen to us, we go to be with Him—”

“Call me immature or unspiritual,” Everett paced, “but I guess I’m just not ready to die. And I don’t want you guys to get hurt because of me! I’ve brought so much heavy stuff into your lives… You know, I can read the Word and talk spiritual, but this—this is tough. Sometimes this whole existence just overwhelms me.”

Karen turned him slightly and rested her hands on his waist. “You’re doing so well, Everett Lester.”

Her father reached for Ev’s neck with his big hand. “We’re proud of you, son. A lot of people in your shoes would have folded by now. You keep pressin’ on.”

“I can’t stop thinkin’ about Eddie.” Everett turned his face away from them toward the rain. “Madison pleaded with him to accept Christ. I mean, she begged him. Maybe he will—or did…”

“Maybe so.” Karen hugged him. “And maybe you had something to do with it.”

They stood there together, the four of them. As they did, Karen could almost feel the fire—the passion—burning inside Everett, to share what God had done in his life. Though all around her, she could sense the other fire, too, the one that was testing their faith so severely.

Suddenly, the rain came hard. Karen had never heard it pour so loudly.

At that moment she was sure that each of them was thinking the same thing:
God’s here with us. Alive. Pouring down on us. Filling us. Letting us know—we can go through the flames.

When Karen knocked softly and entered Wesley’s hospital room—followed by Sheila and Everett—she found Madison asleep on a narrow rollaway next to her brother. He was awake, sitting up against two pillows, watching MTV with the volume low. The Bible Cassidy had given him was closed and sitting next to him on the bed.

Sheila made her way through the maze of furniture and hugged Wesley, with little response. “How’d you sleep?”

He shrugged.

“Better than me.” Madison groaned and rolled over. “I watched him sleep most of the night. This thing,” she pounded the cot, “should be outlawed.”

“Listen,” Karen said, “Ev and I can go down to the snack bar for a little while, if you guys need some time.”

“No, that’s okay.” Madison yawned and stretched. “Anything new on Dad?”

“Not yet,” Sheila said.

Madison sat up. “I’ve got to get freshened up.”

“Well, Twin Streams is all yours,” Everett said. “You have your key?”

“Yeah. I’ll go get a hot shower and change.”

“Help yourself to anything,” Karen said. “There’s plenty of food in the fridge and pantry.”

Madison found her purse on the floor and ambled over to a large mirror above the sink. “How long’s it going to take to get the house fixed, Mom?”

“They said two or three days.” Sheila stood. “I still need one more cup of coffee. Haven’t quite filled my tank yet. I’ll walk down with you, honey.”

Madison finished fluffing her hair, rinsing her mouth, and putting on some lipstick, then headed for the door with her mother in tow. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Wes, see you later.”

He looked over and raised a hand. “Thanks for staying.”

“You’re welcome. You need anything while I’m out?”

“How ’bout a Big Mac and fries? The food in here stinks.”

Madi laughed. “We can arrange that.”

Everett gathered up the blue blanket from the rollaway chair and handed it to Karen, who folded it while he lifted the cot and rolled it back into position within the chair. Then he found the cushion, put it in place, and offered Karen the seat.

Everett pulled another chair next to Karen and sat. “You doing okay, Wes?”

“Depends what your definition of ‘okay’ is.”

Everett cleared his throat. “I know you’ve had your share of pain and troubles, but I think it’s time we cleared the air, got things out in the open.”

Reflex forced Karen’s hand over her mouth. She was somewhat taken aback by Everett’s timing but never by his boldness.