Key West (55 page)

“I don’t like this,” Dr. Jim said.

Billy jerked the wheel left. Sonnie made a grab and managed to correct their direction very slightly. Billy sent a forearm into her throat and Sonnie went limp. She held her neck and looked directly into Chris’s eyes. His anger was mixed with determination. And she could almost hear him telling her to be brave.

Rain had soaked through everything Chris wore. He noticed, but not enough to care. He was grateful he’d followed his instincts and left Roy to wait for Flynn. If they should decide to follow, they would be sure to stay far enough behind.

That bitch Billy had thrown an elbow into Sοnnie’s throat because she had tried to stop another attempt to force him from the read.

He gestured to Billy to lower the window again. She did so and he knew it was because she was high on the power she felt. “Let Sonnie out and I’ll be gone,” he called. “I’ll back off while you stop; then you can go where you like. I don’t care what you do.”

The woman’s response was to yank the wheel even more sharply than before, and he didn’t react quickly enough. His footrest made contact with the side of the Porsche. While he fought not to turn over, he watched a deep gouge open in red paint.

Billy Keith was laughing maniacally. From what he could see, Sonnie was screaming and making futile grabs for the wheel. He saw when Romano Giacano leaned forward and clamped his hands over her face, effectively cutting off her vision and making it impossible for her to pull off another attempt to stop her sister.

But for Sonnie, he’d be making his own moves. Billy slowed suddenly and he overtook.

Instantly he knew his mistake.

The Porsche crossed the center line and made its initial contact at the level of his rear wheel. Chris tried to get out of the way, but the Porsche was too fast. He sustained a vicious clip that ran the length of the Harley—and over his leg.

Pain momentarily dulled him. Wheels slid sideways and he did what came naturally: slammed down a booted foot to keep the bike from landing on its side.

His knee screamed, and his ankle, but the bike didn’t go down. The Porsche made time on him. Billy had to be doing a hundred or more.

The Harley gyrated but settled down, and Chris used a hand to settle his foot on the rest before gunning as hard as he could. He felt himself gain control and went after the Porsche. If he didn’t stop them, they might find a way to hide Sonnie so well that no one would see her until she was a hundred and ten. Or they might fabricate a tragic death. But if he did stop them, what would the price be? Who would suffer? If the Porsche went into the ocean...It couldn’t go into that roiling ocean.

Billy had slowed down again. She must be so pleased with the last maneuver that she intended to go for it again. Chris stayed back, never allowing his front wheel to get closer than a few inches behind the rear of the Porsche.

Sonnie bit Romano’s hand. She drove her teeth in and held on, tasting his blood. He cried out like an animal.

“Stop her, Jim,” Billy ordered. “Then make sure she can’t pull any more stunts.”

“Stop all this, Billy,” Sonnie said. “Jim, reason with her. Even if she pulls off what she wants, you’ll all end up behind bars.”

“Why?” Billy said. “Because you’ll squeal on us?” She giggled. “You really aren’t very worldly, Baby.”

“Don’t call me that. I hate it. I’ve always hated it.”

“You think I don’t know,
Baby?”

“Brace yourselves,” Billy said. “I’m going to try to get a lock on his front wheel. When I shake him loose he’ll already look as if the fish have been at him. Then we want him over the edge.”

“No,” Sonnie pleaded. Once free of her teeth, Romano had gathered her hair into his fist and twisted until she couldn’t bear it—but she had to. “Please don’t do this. Listen to me, Billy. We can carry on our way and leave Chris behind. We never have to go back to Key West.”

“Generous of you,” Billy said. “But no dice. He’s too dangerous to us. Jim, see to the little peacemaker, will you? Wait till I’ve got the guy’s wheel, though.”

Sonnie glanced behind her in time to see Jim Lesley filling a hypodermic. She set her teeth and willed herself to foil his efforts.

An earsplitting noise, the sound of tearing metal and rubber, hurt her head—and her heart. They really did intend to kill Chris.

She saw him tip sideways—away from the car this time. Billy screeched with laughter. “See how generous I am. I’m giving our enemy a tow.”

Chris was being dragged along the ground.

Rain on the windshield all but obliterated vision. Sonnie gauged what it would take to leap from the car. At least she could use her phone to get help.

Chris knew there was no substitute for leathers; he just didn’t like feeling that constrained. This evening he’d gladly have them on and saving his body from some of the damage it was sustaining.

He guessed there was no right way to play this one, but he sure as hell wished Sonnie wasn’t in the car. All he could do was hold on. Even a megalomaniac wouldn’t have the gall to drive far with a man and his motorcycle trading from a wheel.

Billy swerved wide to the left, then back again to the right. With each move Chris wore more clothing away. Blood seeped through his jeans leg. The knuckles on both hands bled freely. Twice his face had scraped the ground, but so far he’d sustained no direct hits to the head.

The fear in his belly, and the strain of holding on, mounted with each second. Billy continued to make wide moves designed to send him and his bike into the ocean.

What did they intend to do with Sonnie?

The car slowed suddenly. Then it made sluggish directional changes. They slowed almost enough for him to get off—but not quite. He made out a lot of movement inside the Porsche but could identify no particular person from this angle.

“You little shit,” Romano bellowed at Sonnie. “Look what you’ve done.”

“It was an accident,” Sonnie said, not expecting to be believed. “Her arm got in the way of the needle.”

“Fuck,” Romano said, and put a lock around Sonnie’s neck. “Give one to Sonnie. I’ll make sure she doesn’t screw it up again.”

Jim was leaning past Sonnie to steer. “Just hold on, Romano. First things first, unless you want to be the one in the ocean. Sonnie, reach over with a foot and apply the brakes, please.”

The central drive shaft made it tough. “Let go of me,” she told Romano. “I can’t do it with your hands around my neck.”

Romano let go, and Sonnie sat on the center console. Jim steered, and she placed her foot on top of Billy’s on the pedal. She had to give it all she could to depress the brakes.

Sonnie heard a noise she didn’t like coming from the back-seat. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Romano slipping a clip into a silver gun. He leaned behind Jim to look out the window at Chris. “Too bad the poor bastard won’t have much time to know how much he hurts. We’re stopping, Doc. Send Sonnie to lala land. We can haul Talon over the side, put the two sleeping beauties in the back, and we’ll be away.”

Jim’s bag was on the backseat. He kept one hand on the wheel but managed to take a full hypodermic from the bag and popped off the cap.

Sonnie caught his eye
but couldn’t bring herself to beg again. They were almost at a stop.

Romano had the gun braced as he timed his shot at Chris. The hypodermic rose, and Jim looked back and forth between the needle and the road.

They did stop.

Jim drove the needle into Romano’s arm, the one that held the gun. Sonnie could imagine the instant ache that would feel like lead to Romano. He looked at his arm with amazement. The gun fell to the seat. He blinked his eyes as if he couldn’t see it. Then he slumped, still conscious, but losing it rapidly.

Sonnie leaped from the car and was immediately flattened to its side by the wind and rain. She forced her way around until she was beside Chris. His head rested on the road, and his eyes were closed. There was blood everywhere. Jim joined her and started checking vital signs.

He looked up at her. “Painful days ahead for your friend,” he said. “But he’s strong. He’ll probably do fine.”

Sonnie knelt beside Chris in several inches of standing water. When she went to touch him, Jim said, “Better not until we know the extent of his injuries.” He took out a cell phone and dialed. He started giving information and requesting help, but Sonnie concentrated on Chris. The left leg of his jeans was shredded from hip to ankle, and the flesh beneath was covered with blood. His hands bled, and his face. She wanted desperately to get the weight of the Harley off his left leg.

Glancing up, she narrowed her eyes to see what was moving in their direction, but some distance away yet.

Chris grunted, and when she looked at him again, he’d opened his eyes.

Sirens sounded.

“You’ve got to come with me,” Chris said. “If you leave me, they won’t be able to save me. Got that?”

She bent over him and kissed his mouth. “I think I must have been hurt, too,” she said. “I’ll just have to get checked over. Aiden’s following us.”

“Please say he’s not driving his Barbiemobile.”

“Ηοw else would I know it was Aiden?”

Thirty-six

Aiden decided he’d been in worse places than a Miami hospital when a case went down.

The local boys had set themselves up with a room—graciously supplied by the nursing staff in the trauma unit—and they kept the door shut at all times. Whatever overtures he’d made on his last visit had obviously been forgotten, or never taken seriously in the first place. He got polite enough nods, but they sure weren’t treating him like a buddy.

“How long you reckon we’ll be twiddling our thumbs here?” Roy asked. “It’s like a party with no cake. And we’re still waiting for some of the guests. That’s what it feels like to me.”

“Frank Giacano’s on his way,” Aiden said. “All he knows is that Billy and Sonnie got in an accident. They let me make the call and that’s what I told him.”

“I thought Chris was a goner,” Roy said with a quaver in his voice. “Good thing for those goons he’s not, or they’d be needing a morgue, not an emergency room and transfers to comfy beds.”

“You said it. And I’d help you put ‘em there.”

They shared an understanding glance.

“I heard a nurse say Billy was conscious and demanding to be allowed to leave,” Aiden said. “She’s got a smashed foot, but they’ve casted it. Evidently she’s dressed and just waiting for the word that she can leave. Doesn’t know why they insisted on admitting her anyway. Clever move, getting her slapped in here. She doesn’t know Romano’s a couple of rooms away. They’ve got a cop in there with him.”

Sonnie came along the corridor, past the waiting area where they sat. She carried a Styrofoam cup in each hand. “His lordship says he’s starving,” she said. “Sent me for rations. Soup and Jell-O.”

“He
sent
you for soup and Jell-O?” Roy asked.

“He sent me for a burger and fries,” Sonnie said with a wicked glint in her eyes. “This is what he’s allowed to have. I guess Billy’s yelling that she’s being held against her will. Romano’s threatening to bring down the country if they don’t let him out of here. Jim Lesley’s a good guy, by the way. He saved me—and Chris. He may need help to prove he isn’t as culpable as the others.”

“Yeah,” Aiden said. He wasn’t too hung up on what happened to Jim Lesley—even if he was sitting in another waiting room looking as if he’d rather be dead, anyway. “Any word on where Bledsoe is?”

Sonnie said, “They were going to take him to Key West, but it’s been agreed that he stays here until the cops make up their minds how to handle him. Know an anonymous donor who’d be likely to pay the hospital to keep people in rooms they don’t need—for health reasons?”

Aiden said, “Nope, sure don’t, but I’m grateful.”

“I’d better get these where they’re going.” Sonnie backed away. “Cold soup and warm Jell-O might bring on something really nasty.”

Roy and Aiden laughed. “You make him behave himself,” Aiden told her. “But don’t forget he’s in a tough place. And I don’t mean this hospital, or because he’s scraped up a bit.”

Sonnie forgot the soup and Jell-O and moved in to take one of the turquoise tweed chairs opposite Roy and Aiden. She leaned forward and said, “I think you ought to explain exactly what that means, don’t you?”

“Some people have big mouths,” Roy said. He tipped his Stetson over his face, crossed his arms, and leaned back in the chair. He stretched out his booted feet, and any casual observer would assume he slept.

“Come on,” Sonnie said. “Don’t keep me in suspense.” Aiden looked away and said, “It’s none of my business.”

“Now he remembers,” came from the shadow of the Stetson.

“Okay.” He was a big boy. He’d jump in with both feet. “Christian J. Talon’s one hell of a man. And—although you might think otherwise—he’s the best friend I ever had. He’s been through hard times. For a long time I wasn’t sure he’d ever forgive himself enough to make another life. I’m not saying I believe that when that woman hanged herself in her cell it was Chris’s fault. It wasn’t. But in his eyes he might as well have strung her up. Then you came along, and
barn,
the old Chris, only even better, started to appear.”

For a long time Sonnie didn’t say anything. Her hair had dried in tangles. The once white jumpsuit she wore was spattered with mud, the knees black. And over all Chris’s blood had dried to rust-colored stains. “He did the same for me,” she said—finally.

“Past tense,” Aiden said. “Now your husband’s back and the picture changes, right? You’re a loyal woman, Sonnie. I figure you’re torn, too. But your husband says he needs you, so it’ll be sayonara, Chris. I like you for what you’ve done for him. But Sonnie, I’m gonna hate you when you take it all back again.”

“Subtle.” The Stetson’s brim jiggled again. “Is it too late for you to go back to minding your own business?”

Sonnie couldn’t take her eyes from Aiden’ s. While her throat grew so tight she couldn’t swallow, she looked into his almost too-intensely blue eyes and couldn’t blame him for taking the part of the man she loved.