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Authors: Kylie Brant

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Suspense, #General

Deadly Dreams (7 page)

BOOK: Deadly Dreams
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He was as out of the loop as the rest of them. Whatever Raiker had uncovered about these attempts on his life hadn’t been shared with Burke.
“Don’t be. It’s been tried before.” He fingered the scar that bisected his throat. “We’ll track him down, and when we do, we’ll get some answers. Until then you have enough on your plate.” With the help of his cane, he got to his feet. Even with the prop, few would make the mistake of considering the man disabled. Not with the edge that showed beneath the polish, the shrewdness apparent in his eye.
“You’ve got plenty to keep you occupied. Three torched cops, remember?” He surprised her by heading to the kitchen. In the next moment she realized he was planning to leave by the back door. Which meant he’d be cutting across two yards to meet his car on the other side of the block.
He was varying his routines. The realization had her breathing a bit more easily. So despite his nonchalant words, he was taking the threats seriously. She supposed having an incendiary device shot through the window of his home to blow it up—fortunately without him in residence—had made a believer out of him.
He paused in the doorway, looked back at her. “You’re wasting your time worrying. I look forward to facing whomever, whatever is intent on destroying me. You concern yourself with facing your own demons.”
The door closed behind him, and she was left to stare at it, his words ringing in her ears. Raiker’s penchant for having the last word wasn’t his most infuriating trait.
Being right was.
“Jonas. Over here.” Johnny waved the last of their group to arrive over to the corner booth where the rest of them waited. Casting a suspicious eye around the gloomy interior of the bar, he was satisfied there was no one within earshot. The spot had changed ownership several times in the nearly twenty years they’d been using it, but efforts at updating had been halfhearted. The clientele was sparse and desperate, usually satisfied to huddle over their beers on cracked stools at the bar. Since the place didn’t run to waitstaff, they didn’t have to worry about anyone showing up to take or deliver orders.
Not that he’d turn down a drink right about now. But he’d wait until he was home. From the looks of his companions, it wasn’t liquor they needed, it was leadership. No matter what Sean and Hans had liked to believe, Johnny had always been the true leader of the group.
“Is it true what Juan said?” Jonas slid into the booth. “They found Giovanni this morning, fried like the others?”
Johnny sent a look at Juan, who wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Is that what he said? Because I fucking told him to set up a meet and we’d discuss the topic once we were all together.”
“You’re not the only one that hears things.” Juan wiped at the sweat beaded on his broad forehead. The years had cost him his first wife and house, then his hair. From what he knew of the man, Johnny figured he missed the hair the most. “I got a buddy in the seventh district. A couple coworkers caught the call and ran the canvass. Someone’s lighting up cops, think the details don’t get around?”
“This is getting out of hand.” Jack looked like ten years had settled on him over the last few weeks. “Three dead cops, there’s certain to be a task force, right? How long’s it gonna take to connect the victims? And then link them to us?”
“I knew it’d come to this.”
Johnny jerked around to glare at Jonas. He’d never fully trusted the prick. Always whining about right and wrong and consequences. Fuck consequences. A real man shaped his life to suit himself. He didn’t wait for whatever crumbs life left him. “The last thing we need right now is for you to go weak on this, Jonas,” he said meaningfully. “You’ve gotten rich along with the rest of us over the years. You wanna clear your conscience, see a fucking priest. We hang together, same as always, and cover our asses. A task force might keep the rest of us alive, ever think of that? Every cop in the city is going to be looking for this fuck.”
“And if they find him before we do, and he talks, we’re in prison, which might as well be dead,” Jonas shot back. “Or do you think it’s coincidence the three dead cops happen to be members of our John Squad?”
“Keep your damn voice down.” But a quick look reassured Johnny that they’d garnered no attention from the bar. Other than from the beefy bartender who kept shooting them sour looks. He knew better than to hassle them about taking up space without ordering, though. Johnny had made sure of that long ago. “No, it’s not coincidence. Likely one of our business associates got greedy and decided to quit profit sharing. Once Hans and I find out which one it is, we’ll convince him of the errors of his ways.” And maybe give the bastard a taste of his own medicine while they were at it.
“Johnny and I have this thing in hand.” Hans had the type of soothing grandfatherly voice that calmed any crisis. Johnny watched it work its magic on Jack and Juan. Jonas still had a stick up his ass, but that was nothing new. “We’re following up on our various partners. We’ll find whoever’s responsible. In the meantime, just sit tight and don’t panic. We’ve been careful to avoid any connections over the years.”
“Don’t you get it?” Jonas’s palm slapped the scarred table top with enough force to draw the attention of the hulking bartender. “The torch has made the connection. Whoever is doing this knows the members of the squad. How’d he get that information, huh? We were always careful to split up the business areas. Different suppliers, different parts of towns. How could any one of them put us all together?”
A damn good question. But then Jonas always had been a smart one. He actually had more smarts than guts, and that’s exactly what worried Johnny.
“We don’t know that he has,” Hans pointed out matter-of-factly. “All we know is that he put Giovanni, Jon-O, and Johann together.”
“Jesus.” Jonas looked away, disgusted.
Hans leaned forward. “Listen, we’ve all got contacts on the street. We need to start tapping them for any scuttle on this thing. If one of our business partners is involved, there’s no way word isn’t going to be out somewhere about that. So I want you to lean on your informants. Hard. Just like every other cop in the city is going to be doing, right? Let Johnny or me know if you get something worth pursuing.” The other two were listening to him, and Johnny figured that was a good thing. Jonas was always the crybaby, but he didn’t have the balls to make trouble. Thank God for that anyway.
“We’re not standing still on this,” Hans was saying. “But this is no time to get stupid. The money’s still coming in, right? We’re all still getting rich, and there’s no way in hell any of it’s traced to us. So stay smart and careful. Keep your weapon close. Giovanni, Jon-O, and Johann were seasoned cops, and someone still managed to get the jump on them. So don’t trust anyone, even if you know ’em.” He smiled grimly. “Maybe especially if you know ’em.”
“What about the task force?” Jack’s anxious look swept all of them. “Any word who’ll head it up? The brass wouldn’t bring the feds in on this, would they?”
“Only if they want it fucked up.” Everyone snickered at Johnny’s remark except for Jonas. “Way I hear it, a homicide detective by the name of McGuire has been on the cases. No way of knowing who’ll be in charge if a task force is formed.”
“So we sit tight.” Juan was bobbing his head, looking to Hans for more reassurance. “I got a kid at Columbia. I can’t afford to have anything fuck this up. We lean on our informants, yeah, but I say we also try to get any details we can about the investigation. I almost hope there is a task force, since they leak info like sieves.”
Johnny actually smiled at the possibility. “That’s a thought. Because if a suspect surfaces in the case, Hans and I would sure like to talk to him.” And if they did, he wouldn’t live to be arrested. He certainly wouldn’t live to cut a deal with the DA.
Since there was little reason to linger, the group broke up shortly after. Juan and Jack walked out together but Jonas left alone. Johnny’s gaze followed him. “Who brought him into the squad anyway?” His gaze shifted to Hans. “Was he one of yours?”
The older man shook his head. He still had a full head of wavy gray hair, of which he was ridiculously vain. “He was one of Sean’s boys, wasn’t he?”
“Must’ve been.” They’d all been recruited over twenty years ago by either Sean or Hans. “Never did like him.”
“You never liked him because he’s good-looking and women dropped their panties for him. Still do.” Hans tried to get the bartender’s attention. After throwing them glowering looks for the duration, he was now studiously avoiding looking their way.
“Reason enough. But he nags like an old lady. I’m telling you, he’s a weak link.”
Hans looked at him, a frown settling on his creased face. “Will you give it up? He’s nervy. Who the hell isn’t? With Giovanni buying it, I’m gonna sleep with the light on myself.” He waited expectantly, but Johnny wasn’t in the laughing mood.
“Jonas had a point. You and me have focused on one of our various partners being behind this, but you know what a stretch that is. These hits take a coordinated effort, and there’s no coordination behind our different suppliers.”
“What’re you saying?”
Johnny hesitated. It was one thing to think it, another to say it aloud. But he trusted this man, as much as he trusted anyone. And he needed to hear Hans’s reaction to his idea. “Maybe we’re overlooking the obvious. Seems to me the only ones who know who all’s in the John Squad are its members.”
He’d have felt better if Hans had blown off his idea. Talked him down, tried to point out how it couldn’t be betrayal. Couldn’t be one of them. Instead the man pursed his lips. Gave a slow nod.
“It’d be stupid not to at least consider the idea. When’s the last time you talked to Sean or Johnson?”
Johnny lifted a shoulder. “Talked to Sean last year, I think. Haven’t talked to Johnson since he retired and moved away.” Both the men had retired to sunnier locales, one to Florida and the other to California, two and three years ago respectively.
“Let’s check in.” Finally the bartender deigned to leave the bar and approach them with two bottles of beer. He delivered them with plenty of attitude, but he’d remembered their brands, which meant Johnny wasn’t going to be required to do any ass kicking before he left here. They went silent until he’d sauntered back to the bar. “They should be careful, too, until this bastard is found. And maybe one of them will have an idea on this guy’s identity. And whether we should be looking close to home or farther out.”
“Then again, Sean might be the reason for these murders. He made a helluva lot of enemies in his time on the job.”
“Made a lot of friends, too.” Hans took a drink and then regarded Johnny over the top of his bottle. “Some of them in high places. Can’t hurt, especially if one of them ends up having ties to someone on the task force.” Neither of them questioned whether a task force would be formed. Three dead cops, even if one of them had been retired, were going to bring a helluva scrutiny to the case. Which could be both a blessing and a curse. “Be nice to have a friendly ear close to the investigation. Might get lucky.”
Johnny took a drink and nodded. “The way things are going, we’re gonna need all the luck we can get.”
It was after midnight when Nate let himself into the house. He stood inside the door for a moment, working the tight muscles in his neck. Fatigue was edging in, but he knew from experience he needed to unwind before even trying to sleep, regardless of the hour. He toed off his shoes and shrugged out of his suit jacket, making a mental note to retrieve the tie he’d jammed into its pocket before he’d made the drive across town.
After the din in the conference room for the last several hours, the silence of his home seemed blessed. With singleminded focus, he headed toward the kitchen. The thought of relaxing with his feet up and a cold beer had been all that had gotten him through the political jockeying that had eaten up the last few hours at headquarters.
He hung his suit jacket over the back of a chair. The shoulder harness and weapon had been locked in the gun safe in his trunk before he came into the house. The dim light of the open fridge split the darkness when he pulled the door open and reached inside, mentally cataloging the games he still had DVR’d. The 76ers were winding down their season. And although it hadn’t exactly been a resounding success, he was a fan through thick and thin.
BOOK: Deadly Dreams
5.37Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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