Rock Chick 07 Regret (71 page)

“I doubt that,” he replied scathingly.

“You’re wrong,” Seth returned then, voice still hard but his words were soft, “Just like you.” And then he went on, “You fuck her over, I’ll kill you.”

Vance moved, it was almost imperceptible but the threat was not. Hector put his hand up toward Vance because he knew Seth had just given in.

Seth crossed his arms on his chest.

“You know about Mickey, what else do you know?” he asked Hector.

“That you avenged your wife by bringin’ down Luther, who ordered the hit, and taken’ Mickey out altogether. The Balducci boys didn’t forget and have been tryin’ to chip away at you for a long time. With you out of commission, they went after Sadie.”

Seth’s only reaction to this was lifting his chin then he said, “Tell me your deal.”

Hector glanced at Vance then back at Seth. “Jerry isn’t your soldier anymore. He’s pissed about me, he’s pissed about Sadie and he’s pissed about your instructions to look after her. In doin’ so, forcin’ him to put himself at risk with Lee, somethin’ no one does of their own free will. Somehow he knows about the Caymans accounts and that Sadie’s the only one who can get to the money. He’s struck a deal. He’s workin’ with Donny now. You’re playin’ right into their hands. He’s obeyin’ your orders until Sadie gets the account information. She knows about the accounts, she’s fucked. They got options, they could roofie her, they could threaten her, whatever. They take her to the Caymans, sedated or under duress, she hands them the money. They don’t have use for her anymore and they either play with her, take her out or both. In the meantime, whatever power you got left takes another hit without that cash. You’re weak, the Balduccis avenge their father’s murder and you’re as fucked as Sadie.”

Seth did not look happy and asked, “I thought you boys had Donny on tape torching her gallery?”

“We’re after him, the police are after him but he’s proving difficult to find,” Hector replied.

At that news, Seth looked even less happy.

“What’s the deal?” he ground out.

“You back off, let me handle it. That’s the deal.”

“You must be joking,” Seth returned.

Hector shook his head.

“That’s not a deal,” Seth snapped.

“Only one you got,” Hector shot back.

“You want me to stand back and –”

“No, you tell me everything, everything the Feds didn’t find. The location of your safe house, any other property you own, where your money’s comin’ from, what soldiers you got left workin’ for you, where I can find ‘em. You keep tryin’ to contact Sadie but, you get hold of her, you don’t fuckin’ tell her shit.”

“And what, you hand this over to the Feds?”

“No, the boys go huntin’. The Balduccis are hidden, we figure Jerry’s helpin’. They’re usin’ your own resources to fuck you.”

“This doesn’t make any fucking sense. The Balduccis want my business. They can’t waltz around Denver being the big men now. They fucked up, got caught on camera committing arson, Ricky’s –”

“Seth, they don’t want your business. They don’t intend to stay in town. They get your money, they live off your back for the rest of their lives knowin’ they got everything you had, including bringin’ Sadie low.”

Seth stared at Hector then his mouth got tight.

“God damn it,” he muttered.

“We got a deal?” Hector pushed.

Seth kept staring at Hector, his gaze sliced to Vance then his eyes cut back and locked on Hector.

“Deal.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Code One

Sadie

“Yahtzee!” I yelled, bouncing on my bottom on the couch that was situated in the front window of Fortnum’s.

“Girlie, you’re on a hot streak!” Stevie cried, leaning forward and giving me a high five.

He wasn’t wrong, it was my third Yahtzee that game and I’d had two the game before. I was kicking Yahtzee
butt
.

“Three yahtzees in one game, two the game before. That’s unheard of. Fuck this shit, we need to go to DIA and get a direct flight to Vegas. With the way Sadie’s rollin’, we hit the craps table, we’ll all retire,” Shirleen announced.

“I could go to Vegas,” I told Shirleen and I could. Why not? It sounded fun. I’d only been to Vegas once and that was with my father. It was a business trip and I had to entertain almost the whole time I was there. I’d been able to see a few of the sights but I hadn’t been able to gamble at all.

And I was on a hot streak.

I already had enough money to retire but more never hurt.

Right?

“You’re not going to Vegas.” Bobby frowned at me.

I looked at Bobby (a.k.a. Alaskan Hottie), opened my mouth to say something then decided to close it.

I’d only just met him that morning and practically the first thing I did (after drinking coffee and making toast) was make him help me goo the fireplace and then scrape paint out of grooves.

He didn’t mind this but then I’d made him help me sand the whole fireplace down (by hand).

He didn’t mind this either.

Then
I’d made him sit in a bridal shop with Jet, Nancy, Blanca, Tod and Stevie.

He minded that.

Tod and Stevie, I found out, were the officially unofficial Rock Chick Wedding Planners or, at least, Tod was (and, by the by, Tod didn’t like the idea of a hayride either but, he declared magnanimously, he was going to “work with it”).

Jet had chosen the color but all her bridesmaids could pick their style. I’d decided which style I wanted immediately but Tod made me try on seven more dresses, just in case. Then they made Nancy and Blanca try on mother-of-the-bride and mother-of-the-groom gowns even though Nancy and Blanca both were going to get something at a department store (Tod changed their mind about this and all three of us ordered gowns that day). Then we got into a complicated discussion about accessories. Tiara, veil or both? Gloves, yes or no? If yes, full length, half length, only hand? And if gloves at all, fingerless or not?

Needless to say, I was not Bobby’s favorite person at that moment.

After the three hour bridal shop session, Nancy and Blanca had gone their separate ways and Jet, Bobby, Tod, Stevie and I went back to Fortnum’s to play Yahtzee. Tex, Indy, Duke and Jane (another of Indy’s employees, she was a painfully quiet, equally painfully thin and even more painfully shy woman of indeterminate age) were working. Once we arrived, Indy and Jet mostly played Yahtzee with Tod, Stevie and I. Jane disappeared into the shelves with an armload of books only to come back and get another armload and disappear again. Tex stayed at his post behind the espresso counter with a steady stream of customers he was supremely ungracious to (but, bizarrely, they didn’t seem to mind). Duke played wingman behind the espresso counter or manned the book counter when a book was sold. Finally, Shirleen arrived half an hour ago and joined the Yahtzee marathon.

Ralphie phoned in between Yahtzee games four and five to tell me he was cooking dinner for Double H and me the next night and since this was his cooking premiere, if we didn’t show, he was disowning us (his words).

Not wanting to be disowned, I called Hector to ask him about Ralphie’s invitation. He accepted without reservation, even after I explained to him that Ralphie was most definitely not the cook in the family. I also let him know I was hanging out at Fortnum’s.

Between my turns with the fake velvet lined Yahtzee cup (it was, Tod informed me, the Yahtzee “Deluxe” edition), I was struggling with the decision of which was my second best day ever, yesterday or today.

Trying on bridesmaid dresses and looking at tiaras and veils was fun and I’d never done it. And, with Tod taking charge and Nancy and Blanca not scaring me, it was good spending time with them. It was neat watching Jet with Nancy, the mother/daughter banter, the familiarity, the way they made it obvious they were close. But what was almost better was the way Blanca was with Jet, how it was clear she was already a member of the family, accepted, loved and even, sometimes (I noticed), precious.

That last part, and the hope I held in the very, very back of my mind that I’d have that too (one day), edged out yesterday as my best day.

Especially when I thought of my phone conversation with Hector that morning.

Just the thought of that phone conversation gave me goose bumps, the good kind.

I’d let my guard down. I’d let him in. I’d shared my secrets. I’d opened a small door to a little place inside me and he’d slid in. I found he not only fit, he seemed comfortable there and I liked it.

But, better, it seemed he liked being there. Not just a little, a lot.

And sensing that, the severed edges torn apart in my heart that I thought would never heal felt whole again.

“No time for Vegas,” Jet said, taking me out of my thoughts. I glanced at her and she was looking out the window then her eyes came to me. “Double H is here,” she finished on a grin.

I rolled my eyes at her use of “Double H”, turned in my seat and looked out the big, front window to see Hector slamming the door on the Bronco. Fortnum’s was on a corner and he’d parked on the cross street, opposite the store.

I watched as he caught the light just right and started to jog across the four lanes of Broadway.
 

He looked good jogging. Natural, cool, casual, his body at his command and I liked watching him, so much, I felt my heart start to beat a little faster and my mouth began to form a smile.

That’s when the shots rang out.

I froze, heard startled cries but my eyes stayed riveted on Hector as his body jerked, he bent over, now running, his hand going to the back of his jeans, I saw him pull out a gun.

That’s all I saw.

I was lifted bodily from the couch. This surprised me and I let out a little scream, not only because of the surprise but because I was being carried away and I couldn’t see Hector around Bobby’s big body.

“Put me down!” I yelled, squirming in his arms until I could see around his massive shoulders. I caught a glimpse of Hector crouched in front of a car in front of Fortnum’s. He pulled up slightly, arms cocked and out in front of him, pointed upward, gun hand resting in his other palm and he fired once.

I lost sight again when my bottom was planted on the book counter and, without hesitation, Bobby put a hand in my chest and gave me a shove. As I fell backward, arms wheeling around to regain balance, I noticed movement all around the store. Indy was shouting at customers to stay in the store and move to the book aisles.

Then before I fell, strong hands came to my waist and I was yanked over the other side of the counter. My feet hit the floor and Duke pressed into me until we were both hunkered down, Duke’s big body mostly covering mine.

I heard pounding feet, more cries, more gunshots and, in a panic, I tried to surge up but Duke kept solid.

“Stay still!” he ordered.

“Hector!” I shouted toward the floor (which was my forced vantage point, Duke had my head tucked down with one of his hands) and I continued to push against Duke’s bulk.

“Still!” Duke repeated, pressing into me.

“Shots fired. Fortnum’s bookstore, Bayaud and Broadway.” I heard Tex boom from across the room, obviously on the phone then in a louder boom, “Loopy Loo, don’t worry about the customers, get to cover,
now!
”

“Oh my God,” I breathed and Tex continued.

“Hector Chavez is the target. He’s outside with Bobby Zanzinski, both are returnin’ fire.”

“Oh my God,” I breathed again.

I felt movement, Duke was jostled and I was able to lift my head a bit. I saw Jet shove a customer behind the book counter with us. They both got low, sat on their behinds, knees up, backs to the shelves.

“Bobby’s gone out,” Jet told Duke, her face pale.

I looked at Duke and saw his mouth grow tight as more gunshots could be heard.

My eyes moved back to Jet.

“This isn’t happening,” I told her stupidly because it was… fucking…
happening.