Reckless (24 page)

Toni opened her eyes and blinked her vision
into focus. The floor where she lay smelled musty. The room exuded
chill dampness. She knew it was a basement before she realized the
floor was packed earth or the walls, chipped cinder block.

“About time, Manelli. I been waitin' all damn
day.”

The cold voice came from near the center of
the room and drew Toni's gaze. She barely stopped herself from
gasping when she saw Nick in a straight-backed wooden chair. A rope
lashed around his ankles kept his feet immobile. She thought
another must be holding his wrists together behind the chair’s
back, but she couldn't see for certain, despite the glaring bare
light bulb that dangled from the end of a frayed cord, over his
head.

Lou Taranto stood a few feet in front of
Nick, facing him. Viper was at his side. Nick's eyes seemed glazed,
and Toni vaguely remembered the crash. Someone rushing over to her,
opening her car door, and jabbing her in the arm with something.
She remembered looking behind the car for Nick, certain he’d been
in the trunk. And she’d spotted him lying on the pavement, a guy in
a suit bent over him, injecting him with a needle.

They'd both been drugged. She had no idea how
long ago or where they might be now.

“You disappointed me, Nicky. I trusted you.
Like my own son, I trusted you, but you betrayed me.” Lou released
a short shot of air. “A Fed! A lousy, freaking Fed—don't bother
denying it. No one fools Lou Taranto for long.”

Nick wasn't looking at him. His gaze probed
the corners of the room, and Toni realized that with the bright
light on him and the shadows everywhere else, he couldn't see her.
He searched for her, squinting hard. She wanted to call out to him,
but didn't dare. It might be better to stay quiet for a few
minutes. She might get an idea that could help if she could watch
them while they thought she was still unconscious.

Viper raised his fist and delivered a
shocking blow to the side of Nick's head. The chair toppled to the
floor with Nick in it, and Toni damn near jumped to her feet and
charged the little weasel. A small voice from within warned her it
would do more harm than good. What she needed was a weapon.

Viper leaned over, righted the chair with a
rough jerk. “Pay attention when the boss is talkin’ to you,
Manelli. Lou has a few things to get off his chest.” He leaned
closer. “And then it's my turn. You know how your pal Salducci
looked when you found him? He looked good compared to what you're
gonna look like, Nicky boy. You're gonna die slow.”

“Big talk's easy when I'm tied up and
drugged, isn’t it?” Nick's voice came out even and low. “Untie me
and say it again, you little prick.”

“Talk all you want, Manelli. You're a dead
man. I don't pay much attention to dead men.”

“I'm not dead yet.”

Viper smiled, and it sent a chill right down
Toni's spine. “Yeah, you are.”

Toni reached out in the darkness, patting the
damp dirt floor with her hands. They hadn't tied her as they had
Nick. They must not consider her much of a threat. She strained her
eyes to see in the darkness. A rickety wooden door hung at one side
of the room. An ancient, molding pile of firewood was stacked in a
corner. A broken wood crate, with a few dust-covered shapes in its
bottom sat beside a rusted water tank that had long since toppled
onto its side. A weapon. She needed a weapon. A length of pipe, a
hammer, anything!

“I need to know what they have on me, Nicky.”
Lou picked up the conversation again. “The warrant says murder one.
What are they basing it on?”

Nick shook his head. “My case was narcotics.
The murder rap came from a separate investigation.”

Viper hit him again, a straight-on drive of
knuckles into his face. The chair slammed over backward, hitting
the floor hard. Blood spurted from Nick's nose. Toni heard him
cough and spit. Viper yanked the chair upright again by grabbing
Nick's shirt in both fists.

Toni rose slowly to her feet, fists clenched
so hard her nails pierced her palms. In silence, she looked around
her, still cloaked in the darkness. She edged slowly along the cool
wall, trying to work her way to the woodpile. A log, if she could
find one that wasn't completely rotten, would be good enough to
split Viper's skull, she decided.

“Come on, Nicky. You can do better than
that,” Lou said. “Where’s the evidence the Rio broad had on
me?”

“If she had anything on you, it’s still in
her apartment.”

“Bullshit. I sent men back there, once we
searched your car. Place was empty. No Salducci, no evidence.”

Nick shook his head. “I don't know what to
tell you, Lou. I called the case as soon as I knew you were onto
Salducci. We were packing it in. It wasn't my problem any
more.”

“You're lying!”

Nick shrugged, lifting his chin and glaring
at Viper. “Isn't that your cue?”

Viper slugged him in the belly this time, and
Toni wondered how he kept from vomiting. The chair jumped with the
force of the blow. Nick bent as much as the ropes would allow,
dragging air into his lungs.

“How am I gonna prepare my defense if I don't
know what the evidence is?” Lou spoke in a smooth, friendly tone.
“Come on, Nicky, I can't let the business I spent my whole life
building go up in smoke like this. I need to know. You're gonna
talk eventually. Why put yourself through any more pain when you’re
just delaying the inevitable?” There was the tiniest waver in his
voice. Toni heard it and knew it for what it was—desperation. A
weapon, at last.

She stepped out of the darkness, forcing her
face to appear composed, emotionless. If they knew what it did to
her to see them hurting Nick, it would be over in no time. Her
heart felt torn wide open and raw at the pain she knew he must be
feeling.

And suddenly, she realized with blinding
clarity that she loved him. The pure power of the emotion awed her.
She'd had no idea how strong her feelings had become until she'd
been forced to see him suffer.

She drew on that strength, closed off the
frightened, trembling part of her mind and focused on the strength.
There—in one of those corridors within—she met an old friend,
clasped her hand, and stood a little straighter.
Help me through
this, Katrina.

Haven't I always? I am you. Or hadn’t you
figured that out yet?

Toni blinked away the odd sensation and
lifted her chin. They hadn’t seen her yet. She could back into the
shadows and play dead, if she wanted to.

She didn’t want to.

“He's telling you the truth, Taranto,” she
said, loud and clear. “It wasn't his investigation that turned up
the evidence against you. It was mine.”

All eyes turned in her direction. Toni had to
force her gaze not to linger on Nick's bruising, bloody face. If
she looked at him, she'd break down and cry. She'd throw her arms
around him and kiss the pain away. She'd claw Viper's heart out for
hurting him.

“Toni, don't—” Viper hit him again. The skin
of his cheek split.

Everything in her wanted to look away, cover
her eyes, gag and cry and plead. Instead, she kept her eyes on them
and her voice ice cold. “Fine, you don't want to listen to me,
that's fine. You finish your little game with Manelli and want to
talk, let me know. By then it’ll be too late to do anything about
it, but it’s your loss.” Turning at last, she took a step toward
her shadowy corner.

“Just a minute, bitch,” Lou snapped.

She didn't face him, just stopped moving and
blinked rapidly to erase any trace of moisture from her eyes. “If
you want my help, you'll have to address me in some other tone,
Taranto. I don't answer to ‘bitch.’”

His chuckle filled the damp room, reaching
all the way to the wooden two-by-six crosspieces supporting the
ceiling and the thick cobwebs that covered them. “Viper,” he
said.

The weasel’s clammy hands were clasped around
her arms a second later, jerking her around to face Taranto and
then holding them pinned to her sides. Nick strained against his
bonds. She tried to send him a message with her eyes, but he
continued struggling.

Her voice sounding unfamiliar to her own
ears, she said, “You don't need to pound on my face to get the
information you want, Taranto. I'm no cop. I'm in this game for one
reason and one reason only. Money.”

Lou's head came up. “You want to make a
deal?” He laughed again. “This one's bold as brass, isn't she?” His
gaze shifted from Viper, who held her, to Toni again. “You got
nothing to deal with, lady writer. You tell me what I want to know
here and now, or I let Viper have an hour alone with you.”

Viper bent his head and closed his teeth on
Toni's earlobe. It was no playful nibble. He bit hard, intending to
hurt her, and he did. She sucked air through her clenched teeth and
fought the pain. He let her ear go, and it throbbed angrily. He
still kept her arms pulled painfully behind her. “I'm gonna like
this, Lou. When can we start?”

Toni forced a smile and then laughter.
“You've got to be kidding me! I thought you were a
businessman.”

“Tell me what you know, sugar.”

“I'll tell you a little. The murder charges
on you are for the deaths of your ex-supplier and the two DEA
agents who were escorting him back to the U.S. You remember Juan
Perez, don't you? Your supplier in Colombia? He was the last man
who refused the deal I offered. I brought him to his knees and I'll
do the same to you.”

Lou frowned. “You offered Perez a deal?”

“Before the book went to print I offered to
leave certain specifics out if he'd pay me well for my trouble.”
She shrugged. “He thought I was bluffing.” She met Taranto's eyes
and felt an icy hand close over her heart. “A lot of men make that
mistake. My book brought his entire operation down. The new one’s
gonna do the same for you. And you wanna know why?”

“This I gotta hear,” Lou said. But he wasn’t
as cocky. Trying to be, but Toni saw through it. She was shaking
him.

“Because the pen is mightier than the sword.
That’s why.” He frowned, either because he’d never heard the
expression or more likely, didn’t understand it. “In more modern
terms, my keyboard is more powerful than your guns and your thugs
and your bullshit. Words, Taranto. Words are power.”

“What do you have on me, lady? Cut the games
and spill it.”

Viper said, “Don’t tell him.” He spoke near
her sore ear, his lips moving against it, his breath hot on her
throat.

She looked at Lou. “Tell this pig to let go
of me.”

Lou frowned and finally nodded toward Viper.
“You'll have plenty of time to hurt her later on.”

She glanced quickly toward Nick. His eyes on
her were narrow, and she hoped to God he didn't think this bravado
of hers was the real Toni. It wasn't. It was Katrina. Or some
messed up combination of the two of them. Or something.

She faced Lou squarely. “I have photos of you
passing an envelope to a man named Santos. I have proof that Santos
left you and went directly to an airport in Colombia, where he
somehow got a job as a mechanic. I have photos of him tinkering
with Perez's plane moments before takeoff. I have evidence that a
large sum of money was transferred into Santos’ bank account the
day he arrived in Colombia.”

Lou shook his head. “Nothing. It's nothing.
Circumstantial, at best.”

“I have the envelope.”

Lou's brows shot up. “Impossible! Santos said
he burned—”

“He put a match to it, dropped it in a trash
can. A friend of mine pulled it out and doused the flame. It’s
charred a little, just around the edges but otherwise, intact.” She
saw his eyes narrow with skepticism. “Want me to tell you what was
inside?”

“You can give it a shot,” he said.

“A handwritten note with the name of the
little airfield and Perez's flight number and time of departure.
Your handwriting, Lou. I checked it against the signature on your
driver’s license.” She shook her head. “Sloppy, sloppy. An expert
analyst will use that, you know. There was a nice five-by-seven
glossy print of Perez, too. He was wearing a tacky floral-print
shirt.”

Lou's eyes showed real fear now. “You gave
them all of that?”

She shook her head. “You think I'm an idiot?
What good would my book be if I gave them all of my surprises? It
would all come out in your trial, and all the juice in the book
would be old news by the time it hit the shelves. I'd be lucky if
it sold a dozen copies.”

“But the warrants—”

“I gave them an envelope full of bogus
evidence. The photo they have is of my cousin Sam. All the
documents are forged, and not very expertly, either. As soon as
they realize it, which shouldn't be too far in the future, the
warrants will be revoked. They have nothing.”

Lou turned, paced the room slowly and came to
stand close to her. “How could you know you'd need fake
evidence?”

“I'm not new to this game, Taranto. The Feds
are always leaning on me to give them what I have before it comes
out in the book. I make up phony evidence on a regular basis, just
in case. It’s my backup plan. If they force the issue, I just give
them the fake evidence. That buys me time. My publisher can rush
the book to print while they chase their tails trying to verify it.
I make a million in royalties, hit the Times list, and
then
hand over the real evidence. This time it paid off.”

“So where's the real evidence?”

“I'd be dead in a hurry if I told you that,
wouldn't I?”

“Dead, maybe. Not in a hurry. Doesn't matter.
You don't have a choice.”

“I think I do. A lawyer is holding it for me.
I can't even tell you who he is, because I had the arrangements
made by my publisher. If anyone makes any attempt to get that
envelope—other than me, of course—it goes straight to the DEA. If
my publisher doesn't hear from me at least once a day, it goes to
them even faster. Now, let's talk, Lou. I stand to make a cool
million from the book. You want what I have, you'll have to make me
a better offer.”