Bad Guys Don't Win (Janet Maple Series Book 4) (16 page)

“I don’t think so, Ed. At least the
witness, Janet Maple, said she didn’t know. I couldn’t tell if she was telling
the truth, though. Seemed to me like she was hiding something,” Burke said.

“Don’t you worry about it, Tom. I’ll
take care of her,” Pierce said as though he were talking about going grocery
shopping. “Can you hold off the feds for a little while longer, Tom?” Pierce
turned his attention to Burke.

Burke cleared his throat. “Yes, I can
keep them at bay for a while,” he said importantly. “I went through the
paperwork and noticed several irregularities—nothing serious—just
administrative nonsense, but even nonsense can delay things if properly
escalated. As you know, government bureaucrats value procedures over results.”

A half-smile appeared on Pierce’s face.
“Oh, yes. I know that very well. Who’s the agent in charge on the case?”

“Agent Andrew Lang. I thought he’d play
ball, but he turned out to be a real stickler.” Burke patted his back pocket
where he’d put the unused cash he’d meant to pay off Lang with and went still.
The money wasn’t there—it must’ve fallen out of his pocket without his
noticing. His armpits instantly turned damp with sweat. U.S. Marshal’s salary
didn’t exactly allow room for one to carry five grand in one’s back pocket.

“Anything the matter?” Pierce’s icy gaze
burrowed into Burke.

“Everything’s fine,” Burke said quickly.
“I’m just a bit stiff, that’s all. Need to lose a couple of pounds.” He
chuckled and patted his belly. His initial panic had subsided—the five grand
he’d lost was no small chunk of change, but the good news was that the money
wasn’t in his wallet and there was no way of tracing it back to him. “As I was
saying, that Lang guy is a real nuisance. He’s all hyped up about the
investigation and he believed every word that busybody Janet Maple was saying.
I tried to discredit her, but he wouldn’t have any of it.”

Pierce was silent for a moment, probably
leafing through a rolodex of corrupt agents in his mind. “We’re in luck. I know
his supervisor. Give me twenty four hours and I’ll have this taken care of.”

“Excellent. I can hold him off for that
long.” Burke rose to his feet—his chat with the underworld czar had lasted long
enough.

“I’ll walk you out,” Pierce rose to his
feet. “I appreciate you going an extra mile for me, Tommy. You’ll be well
compensated for your troubles.”

I’d better be
, Burke thought,
plastering a grateful smile on his face. If Pierce thought he was going to get
this extra service for free, he was sorely mistaken. This was going to cost him
major, or the FBI just might pay him a surprise visit.

“Gentlemen, this meeting is adjourned.”
Pierce moved toward the door, motioning for Burke to follow him.

***

Anton Kovar was trembling with silent
rage. When he saw his uncle snivel and cower before Ed Pierce like a scared
puppy, Anton could scarcely believe his eyes. Petr Kovar had made grown men
cower and shake with fear, and now he was letting Ed Pierce berate him like a
school boy. Anton had been looking up to his uncle Petr his whole life, but
tonight his childhood idol had been destroyed.

Not having sons of his own, Petr had
brought Anton and Roman up as his own. When they were old enough, he started
bringing them into the business. Petr had been equally good to both Roman and
Anton, but it was no secret Roman wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer.
Before long, Anton became Petr’s right hand, running most of his schemes for
him, while Roman took care of less important business. Anton used to be proud
of his life. He used to feel like a powerful man, but that all changed after
the arrest. Suddenly, he was no longer the nephew of a powerful gangster, but a
nameless inmate. Granted, the Kovar name still carried respect in the criminal
circles. All the inmates and even the jail guards treated them with certain
deference, but the mere thought of being put behind bars like some monkey in a
zoo was humiliating.

The only thing that kept Anton going in
jail was the thought of revenge. When he’d learned they were getting out, he
was elated. Soon the Kovars’ name would be restored to its former glory and
Anton would get his payback. Every day he cursed himself for shagging up with
that backstabbing witch Mila. The girl was dynamite in the sack, but she had
the soul of a snake. She had charmed him and bewitched him, turning him into a
man possessed. He wanted to marry her and have children with her—three boys to
help him run the business once they were old enough. That’s what happened when
you started trusting a woman—she turned on you and stabbed you in the back. And
he’d be damned if he let the damn skank get away with it.

The minute Anton set his foot outside of
jail, he put the wheels in motion to make Mila pay. He still had people loyal
to him and Jessy had come through. Now there was a loyal woman—he’d been an
idiot to put her aside for Mila. Jessy did everything he’d asked, delivering
Mila on a platter to him. But Anton wasn’t going to stop there. Dennis Walker
and Janet Maple were next on his list. Jessy came through again—it had been Jessy’s
plan to use Mila as bait to get Dennis and it had worked like a charm. Now that
pompous buffoon Dennis Walker had joined Mila, tied up in Anton’s warehouse.
Janet Maple was next—Anton was sure she was going to come after her sweetheart
and her precious little dog. He’d planned to keep the entire thing secret from
Uncle Petr until he had all three and then present him with the surprise. But
now his plans had hit a snag.

“Anton, Anton?”

Anton was so deep in his thoughts he
didn’t notice he and his uncle were the only people left in the room and his
uncle was calling him. “Uncle Petr, I’m sorry. I was just thinking,” he said
quickly.

“What’s the matter, son? Something’s
bothering you?” The old man looked at him with concern.

Anton smiled at Petr’s affection—even
though Anton wasn’t his son, Petr often addressed him as such. It meant the
world to Anton when he and Roman were left fatherless as little boys and it
still meant the world to him now. Anton’s father had never been a part of the
family business—he stopped speaking with Petr once Petr had ‘turned to the dark
side,’ as he used to say of his brother. Instead, Anton’s father worked
construction for a petty wage only to be in constant debt and die just as
meaninglessly as he had lived when a poorly secured harness had caused him to
tumble down from a construction beam. The day his father died, Anton decided to
follow in Uncle Petr’s footsteps—he’d seen only too well what happened when one
tried to make an honest living. “It’s nothing, Uncle Petr. I was just
thinking.”

“About?” Petr prodded.

“About Pierce,” Anton said cautiously.

“That’s Mr. Pierce to you,” Petr
corrected him sharply.

“Why did you let him talk to you that
way, Uncle Petr?” Anton asked, hurt by Petr’s sharp tone.

Petr’s face assumed a stern expression
Anton had seen Petr use on people who’d come to beg his forgiveness for some
great offense. “Silence, you stupid boy! I thought you were smarter than this.
I’ve brought you up as my own, gave you everything—” Petr broke off. “Perhaps I
made a mistake. Perhaps I should’ve put stock in Vladimir. He spent most of his
life on a farm, but at least he knows enough not to ask stupid questions, which
is something you could learn from him. Ed’s been real pleased with him.”

At the mention of his distant cousin,
who’d been recently transplanted from the deep outskirts of their home country,
Anton’s face twitched with contempt. How could his uncle even compare him to
that hillbilly who until a few months ago had been herding goats somewhere deep
in the Czech countryside?

“Why do you think we got out of jail,
Anton?” Petr asked, as though talking to a five-year-old.

“Because you still have friends on the
outside, Uncle,” Anton said sheepishly.

“And who do you think those friends
are?”

“That Kovar name carries great respect.
You have many friends—”

Petr scoffed. “I also have many enemies
who were only too glad to see me rot behind bars. Once the word got out I was
locked up, I lost most of my businesses.”

“Uncle, I still have a few properties,”
Anton countered. He’d held on to a few buildings, including the warehouse where
he was keeping Dennis and Mila, which he’d bought under Jess’s name without her
knowing. He held the titles to the properties but they were in her name.
“What’s mine is yours.”

“You should’ve told me about this
before, Anton. You knew we had to give account of everything to Ed.” Petr shook
his head. “Ed is not going to like this. You’d better tell him about it before
he finds out.”

“How’s he going to find out? They’re
bought in someone else’s name—a girl I used to see.”

“Sooner or later Ed finds out
everything, and he always keeps a grudge. If you don’t tell him, I will.”

“Uncle Petr, you wouldn’t do that to
me—”

“I would,” Petr cut him off. “For your
own sake. You’re a silly boy who thinks himself a man and has no idea what he’s
dealing with. What have you got, a couple of buildings? I know you couldn’t
have bought more because I paid you your cut. I lost hundreds of millions and
Edward will let me get it back. Not out of the kindness of his heart, mind you,
but because I owe him money. Too much is at stake to risk upsetting him over a
couple of measly properties.”

“How can you owe him money? I’ve never
seen you talk to him before.”

“That’s because you weren’t supposed to.
Ed Pierce runs our world and we all pay our share. In exchange we get order and
protection. The moment I was in jail, I wasn’t able to pay him, and let me tell
you, Ed charges a high interest.”

“So now he owns us?”

“That’s right, son. You’ve always been
quick on the uptake. Ed owns everything I used to own until I pay him back. In
the meantime he’s gonna let me run my old businesses and if I don’t pay him
back in the time he told me, I’m out.” The way Petr said the word ‘out’ made it
clear he meant more than just being out of the job.

“But why let him push you around like
that? Can’t you take his place?” Anton demanded. “We still got loyal men—”

“Shh!” Petr looked terrified. “Don’t you
dare say such things. No one’s got enough men to go against Ed Pierce. And if
anyone tried, Ed would know about it before the man thought of it himself. So
you listen to me, Anton, you gotta come clean about those buildings you hid
from Ed. You hear me?”

“Yes, uncle.”

“Good. I’ll arrange a meeting with Ed so
you can tell him everything yourself.” Petr eyed him shrewdly. “You’re not
hiding anything there, are you? You wouldn’t have anything to do with this
kidnaping business, would you?”

Anton felt fear run through his veins—he
could tell that if he were to confess to his uncle, he’d give him up to Pierce
without as much as an afterthought. “No, uncle. This the first time I’ve heard
of it. I got nothing to hide.”

“Good.” Petr looked squarely at Anton.
“If I find out you had anything to do with this, Anton, I won’t be able to help
you. I doubt God himself would be able to save you from the fate that would
await you, son.”

“I swear to you, uncle. I got nothing to
do with it.”

“I believe you, son. I’d like to believe
you. I sure as hell hope you’re not going to disappoint Ed. I’ve seen him boil
a man alive once—that’s what Ed Pierce does when he’s disappointed.” Without
another word, Petr Kovar left the room.

Anton’s armpits and back were drenched
with cold sweat. He had to clean up his tracks, fast, before Pierce got wind of
things.

Anton cautiously looked side to side as
he closed the door to his room behind him and stepped out into the hallway.
Since the jail escape, he’d been staying with his uncle and cousin at one of Ed
Pierce’s buildings in Park Slope, Brooklyn. As Pierce had put it, the best
place to hide was out in the open and he’d been right. The busy neighborhood
made it easy to get around unnoticed—a pair of shades and a baseball cap made
you invisible in a crowded street. As long as no one squealed on them from the
inside, Anton was sure they were safe. All those police officers patrolling the
streets were too busy looking for doughnut shops. Whenever he watched TV crime
reports about criminals being turned in, it was always because their so-called
friends ratted them out.

Anton couldn’t complain about their
current digs—Pierce had put them up in a swanky loft with plenty of room. But
accepting charity from Pierce didn’t sit well with him from the beginning, and
after the way Pierce had treated Petr last night, Anton felt as though he were
locked in a gilded cage. Most of all, Anton had been hurt by the way his uncle
had treated him. Up until now, he’d trusted his uncle implicitly, certain he’d
always be on his side, but he wasn’t so sure of it now. And, worse, he wasn’t
so sure about his uncle’s standing, which wasn’t turning out to be nearly as
powerful as he had thought it to be. What he was sure of was that he had to
clean up the mess he’d created.

He patted the gun in the holster under
his arm and felt a shiver run down his spine. Despite his bravado, he’d never
actually killed a man. Sure, he’d smacked people around, scaring the living
daylights out of them, but he’d always left the dirty work to his uncle’s
henchmen. He claimed it was to keep his record clean and his uncle agreed with
him, but the truth was the thought of aiming a gun at a man and pulling the
trigger terrified him. But now he had no choice. It wouldn’t be long before
that jackal Pierce was going to sniff out the truth about Mila and Dennis. If
Anton left them alive, soon it would be him staring at the business end of a
gun.

“Going somewhere, son?”

Anton nearly jumped at the sound of his
uncle’s voice, but managed to keep his cool. “Good morning, uncle. I didn’t see
you behind me.” He smiled easily—a loyal nephew who had nothing to hide and was
happy to see his uncle.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Petr
eyed him top to bottom.

“I was just going to check on those
properties of mine I mentioned to you. Want to make sure everything is in
order.”

“You do that. Take care of your
business,” Petr added in a tone that made Anton feel as though he was reading
right through him. “We have a meeting with Ed tonight at eight o’clock. It’s
about a different matter, but you should use the opportunity to come clean
about the properties. Yes?”

“Yes, Uncle Petr.” Anton saw there was
no use arguing with the old man. It galled him to have to grovel before Pierce
like some school boy, but he had no choice—it was either that or strike out on
his own. He thought about that, but decided against it—having both Pierce and
cops gunning after him would be too much to handle.

“You got something to cover your face?”
Petr asked.

Feeling like a five-year-old, Anton held
up a pair of shades and a baseball cap.

“Good.” Petr nodded approvingly. “Don’t
be late for our meeting with Mr. Pierce tonight.”

“I won’t.” Anton turned around to leave.

“And Anton—”

“Yes?” Anton looked over his shoulder.

“I love you like a son, but I can’t
protect you from Ed Pierce—no one can.” After a long, hard look, Petr turned
around and walked back up the stairs.

The old man is turning soft in the head
, Anton thought.
Either that or he was never as powerful as he held himself out to be. This was
a new and unwelcome development for Anton. For the first time in his life he
didn’t have anyone to look up to and that was hard. Suddenly he found himself
lost like a dog without a master.

***

Dennis woke up from a daze he’d been in
and out of all night—the closest he’d been able to come to sleep—and wiggled
his hands in an attempt to get the numbness out. He’d been trying to conserve
his strength and did his best to get some rest at night, but it was impossible
to sleep tied up to a chair. He looked around the room and saw Mila stirring in
her chair. Baxter was curled up in the corner, sleeping—one of the good things
about being a dog was that you could sleep pretty much anywhere. Dennis tried
to determine what time it was. The windows were hidden behind metal blinds, but
he could discern a faint, gray light coming through, which told him it had be
somewhere around five a.m. or so.

“Mila,” he whispered, “are you awake?”

“Yes. This isn’t exactly the Ritz to
sleep in,” she quipped.

“Love your sense of humor. That’s the
spirit,” he tried to cheer her up. “Never give, never surrender!”

“Isn’t that from
Galaxy Quest
?”

“I’m surprised you knew it. It’s one of
my old favorites.”

“Yeah, well, it doesn’t sound
encouraging considering that in the movie this motto belonged to a total
idiot.”

“An idiot who changed his ways and ended
up a hero in the end,” Dennis pointed out. “So, never give up, never
surrender!”

“Rah-rah. When life gives you lemons,
make lemonade. I got it.”

Dennis thought it best to abandon his
failed attempt at brightening up the mood. Things were looking pretty grim. Their
hands were tied and they were locked up without having any idea where they were
or how to escape. Still, he wasn’t going to lose hope—once that was gone, it
would really be over. “Tell me, do they give you food in this place?”

“Bread and water, twice a day.”

“So Anton wasn’t kidding about that,
huh? Who brings it over?”

“Jess.”

“I’m going to try to talk to her.”

“I don’t recommend it. In case you’ve
forgotten, I tried it yesterday,” Mila said pointedly.

Dennis nodded, noticing the black and
blue on her face, which had gotten worse overnight. “I’ll give it a try. Maybe
she’ll respond differently to a guy. What time does she usually come over?”

“Right about now.”

As if on cue, there was a sound of
rattling locks. Moments later the door opened and Jess walked inside. She
flipped on the switch and bright light filled the room. Dennis had to squint
his eyes for a few moments to adjust to the brightness. Then he proceeded to
examine their visitor. She was dressed in skinny jeans and a black shirt. Her
feet were clad in combat boots and on her hip she was sporting a holster with a
gun. Dennis carefully eyed the Glock model, not liking this one bit—Jess was
clearly taking her guard role very seriously. In her hands Jess carried two
stacked plastic plates with what looked like week-old chunks of bread and two
bottles of water were stuck under her arm.

“Breakfast is served,” she announced
sarcastically.

“Thank you. I was starting to get a
little peckish,” Dennis managed his most ironic tone. “Say, is there any chance
of a cappuccino?”

She dropped the bread plate on the floor
and kicked it in his direction with her foot. “You’ll just have to do with
this,” she said, throwing a water bottle at him so quickly, Dennis barely saw
it coming. The object had been aimed at his private parts, but he’d managed to
spread his legs just in time and catch it with his thighs.

“Nice reflexes.” Jess was clearly
disappointed with the miss.

“I do my best,” he replied coolly,
thinking it would take a lot more effort than he thought to take Jess down.
“Any chance you’ll untie my hands so I could enjoy this delicious breakfast you
have prepared for us?”

She smirked, walking toward him. “Sure.
But don’t you even think about trying anything stupid or I will use this,” she
added, pointing at the gun in her holster. She untied the leather ropes around
his wrists.

“With an aim like yours, no warning is
necessary.” Dennis rubbed his hands together. “Aren’t you going to untie Mila?”
he asked nonchalantly. “I feel bad eating while she’s still got her hands
tied.”

Jess shook her head. “You think you’re
so smart, don’t you? I said no funny business. You eat first, then I tie you
back up, and then she eats. That’s the way it works. Oh, and I gotta split in
ten minutes, so if you want your friend to eat today, you’d better gobble it
up.”

“All right, all right. No need to get
all worked up about it. Could I use the bathroom first?”

“There’s a bucket in the corner over
there.” She pointed at the far wall.

Dennis rose from his chair, hoping for a
chance to surveil the room. “Thank you. I’ll be right back.”

“I know you will. I’m coming with you.”
Jess followed him and Dennis felt her pointing the gun barrel against the back
of his head the entire time.

Inside Dennis was boiling with rage and
humiliation, but he wasn’t going to give this sadistic psycho the satisfaction.
“Enjoy the show,” he said, as he unzipped his pants and made use of the bucket.

“Very unimpressive.” She pressed the gun
harder against him.

Silently, Dennis made the trip back to
his chair. Jess trailed him every step of the way, her gun smack against the
back of his head. He’d kept his head straight the entire time, making use of
his peripheral vision. From what he’d managed to see, the only way out was
through the front door—the metal blinds on the window were thick and secured
with heavy locks.

“Feeling better now?” Jess leered once
he was back in his chair.

“Much, thank you.” He picked up the
bread and ate it quickly. Then he drank the entire bottle of water.

She held up the leather ropes. “Arms
behind your back.”

“Is that really necessary?” he asked.
“I’m not going anywhere. Couldn’t you tie them in the front? I’m all stiff.”

She pointed her gun at him and raised
the trigger. “Do I have to ask you twice?”

“No, of course not.” He put his arms
behind him. “You must really love Anton a lot,” he noted as Jess secured the
restraints. “You realize you’ve committed a crime for him? Kidnapping, unlawful
detention. Is that gun even licensed? Are you ready to go to jail for him?”

She made sure the restraints were back
on, tightly fastened. Then she slowly stepped away from him. “Anton doesn’t
need a license. And he’s done plenty for me. But you wouldn’t know anything
about loyalty.”

“Loyalty? Sounds to me like Anton was
cheating on you.”

She breathed heavily as she tightened up
the leather ropes. “Anton made a mistake. All men make mistakes. And now he’s
mine again.”

“For how long?” Mila’s voice carried
through the room. “How long ’till he cheats on you again with someone else?”

“Shut up you worthless whore!” Jess
seethed, springing on Mila like a hyena and hit her across the face. “That’s
for breaking the heart of the man I love, you worthless slime. You don’t
deserve a man like Anton.”

“He’s all yours,” Mila spat, her voice
steady, even though the blow must’ve hurt like hell.

“Guess you don’t like to eat, do you?”
Jess stomped her boot on the bread plate and emptied the bottle of water on the
floor.

Baxter, who had been sleeping until now,
must’ve heard the commotion and barked loudly. He raced across the room and bit
into Jess’s boot.

“You annoying little rat, you’re just as
useless as your master!” Jess kicked her leg, sending Baxter flying across the
floor as though he were a plush toy.

“Hey, leave the dog out of it,” Dennis
seethed through his teeth.

“Or what? You’re going to beat me up?”
Jess leered.

“I don’t hit women,” Dennis said
quietly.

“A convenient excuse for being beaten up
by a girl,” she sneered.

You didn’t beat me up
, Dennis
thought,
you tasered me
, but decided not to press the point. “Whatever
Anton’s paying you, we’ll pay you double, triple that, and offer you immunity.”

“Huh! You think everything can be bought
and sold. You must think yourself so smart,” she spat.

“No, I don’t think so at all,” Dennis
said carefully, now completely certain the woman was a total basket case.

Jess scoffed. “I bet you don’t—not any
more. Not everyone is like you—lying and cheating to get their way. Some people
have loyalties and standards. I’m going to tell you a story to expand your
understanding of the world.” She lifted her head. “You see this face?
Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“I’m sorry for lying to you about the
photos, but if you really want to get into modeling, I can get you a meeting
with the right people. I swear,” Dennis tried his last card.

“You think I care about that nonsense?
You’re even dumber than I thought. Now, shut up and listen. This face was
ruined, maimed and I lived with the shame of it for years. My worthless mother
married a drunk and a pervert. When I was fifteen, my stepfather raped me. I
fought him so hard, he broke my nose and just to teach me a lesson, he slashed
a knife against my cheek, leaving a crooked scar that made me look like the
Joker. When the child protection services came to investigate, my mother made
me say I was attacked by someone on the street and didn’t get to see their
face. Since then my only goal has been to never fall victim to another man and
to earn enough money to fix my face. I signed up for martial arts classes after
school and the next time my stepfather tried to get close to me, I broke his
arm. He never touched me again. The minute I finished high school, I left and
never spoke to my mother again. I worked odd jobs and continued my training. I
was determined to get my face back—the way I saw it, I’d been turned into a
caterpillar, but I was determined to become a butterfly and spread my wings.
That’s why I got this tattoo—she opened the collar of her shirt—to keep the
hope alive. I was saving every penny I could, but at the rate I was going it
was going to take me another five years to get the money I needed to fix my
face. Unless you’re Steven Seagal, martial arts doesn’t exactly pay a fortune.
That’s when I met Anton. He saw me fight in an underground tournament and hired
me as his bodyguard. He paid for a plastic surgeon to fix my face and then
Anton became my lover. Sure, skanks like Mila came along the way, but Anton and
I were always close. And when I learned he was in jail, I wasn’t going to
desert him. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him, you hear me? Nothing.” She
turned to leave and this time Dennis didn’t attempt to stop her.