In Jack's Arms (Fighting Connollys) (21 page)

him.

A last SUV pulled up next to the motorcycles. There was no mistaking Romero Valero. Though he

looked decidedly more clean cut than the terrifying prison mug shot that had been plastered all over the

media in early January, he was still a frightening guy. I couldn’t believe that harsh-faced man was Vivian's father. I didn't know her that well, but she was just so delicate and beautiful. It seemed impossible that
that
guy had sired her.

The power brokers of the group walked to the center of the loosely shaped circle we had formed.

Kostya, Besian, Romero and a guy I didn't know but assumed was Lorenzo Guzman stood close and talked.

Their voices were loud enough that I could hear most of the discussion.

"Nikolai has extended his protection. He expects there will be no problems here after the evidence of the hit is turned over," Kostya stated. "He doesn’t care what happens to Julio or the hitman. He just wants it done
outside
of Houston."

"That won't be a problem," Lorenzo assured. "This has gotten too public for my tastes."

"Lorenzo can do whatever he wants to Julio and the hired gun," Romero said rather graciously, "but I want to talk about reparations."

"Reparations?" Lorenzo turned to the man who had once worked for him and now challenged his

authority. "For what?"

"You killed one of my men. The rules on hits inside the city are clear. We need a green light from the council to proceed. After that shit in December—"

"This wasn't my call," Lorenzo insisted. "This was a rogue action that has no ties to me."

"No ties to you?" Romero repeated with disbelief. "He's your right-hand man in Houston."

"And he did this without my approval or consent," Lorenzo replied. "If you're going to try to use this to squeeze me—"

"Hey," Kostya interjected cautiously, "why don't we take this up at the council meeting? Get all the bosses together and discuss it then," he suggested. "I don’t have voting powers. I'm only here to represent my boss."

That seemed to quell the dispute for the moment. Rather reluctantly, Besian stepped forward. "Listen, Romero, something happened earlier, and it involves your—"

An engine roared behind us. We all jerked around just in time to see a big white SUV racing toward our

ring of vehicles. At the last second, the SUV made a crazy turn and slammed into the line of parked

motorcycles. It bounced over them, crunching the expensive bikes and dragging one of them all the way

into the middle of the circle. The bosses and Kostya dove for cover, hitting the ground hard and rolling out of the way. Jack lifted me up off the ground and spun around with me in his arms, curling his body around

mine and shielding me from whatever hell was about to break loose.

A door opened, and a woman screamed.
Marley
. I didn't even have to look. I knew it was her. Terrified for my friend and employee, I tried to wriggle out of Jack's grasp, but he clamped down hard. Without a

word, he reminded me that he was stronger and determined to keep me whole.

Behind us, men shouted angrily in Spanish. I picked out the voices I recognized—Romero and Lorenzo

—and deduced the third belonged to an irate, crazed Julio. Every time Lorenzo tried to calm him down,

Romero would goad Julio with the ugliest things. Besian interjected himself into the argument, his Spanish nearly perfect, and tried to get Julio to stop waving around his weapon. It was clear that Besian wanted to head off a catastrophe. With all the firearms tucked into pants and hidden under jackets and vests, it would only take the slightest twitch to set off a firefight.

The crack of a gunshot startled me. I jerked in Jack's arms as Marley screamed. Reacting instantly, Jack

held me tight to his chest and carried me to a safe position behind the nearest vehicle. Finally able to see what had happened, I spotted Marley standing on shaky legs, her face and hair splattered with blood and

Lord only knew what else. Julio had dropped to the ground behind her, his legs jerking as blood gushed

from a massive head wound.

Another gunshot and then another snapped in the night. The sniper who had tried to kill us at the arts

center was back—and he was gunning for every single person at the rendezvous. Blindfolded and bound,

Marley couldn't escape. She flinched when a bullet whizzed by her head, slamming into the SUV next to her

and shattering the window.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Besian rushing toward her. He swept her up in his arms and

raced toward the vehicle we were using for cover. Another gunshot echoed in the night—and the Albanian

mob boss flinched and grimaced. He mustered his strength and all but tossed poor Marley right at Jack who

caught her easily and pushed her down next to me.

Clutching his bleeding chest, Besian fell forward onto the hard ground, his body bouncing as his knees

impacted the dirt. Jack didn't even hesitate. Despite the absolute hell the other man had put his family

through, my sweet Jack proved what a hero he was by racing out to save Besian. I wanted to scream with

sheer terror as bullets snapped around the man I loved but I just held onto sobbing Marley and prayed Jack would get back to me in one piece.

Crack. Crack. Crack.

Thwap.

A different sounding gunshot, this one low down and higher pitched, followed a series of quickly fired

rounds from the sniper. I heard a loud thunk a few seconds later. Craning my neck and daring to peek over

the hood of the car between me and the gunman, I spotted the sniper in question sprawled on the dirt. He

had fallen from the rooftop of a warehouse.

I looked back in the other direction and discovered Kelly and Finn next to warehouse behind us. The

youngest Connolly brother held a pair of binoculars while Finn rose from his kneeling shooting position

with his rifle pointed safely away from us.

For a long moment, no one moved or said a word. Finally Jack shouted, "Someone call an ambulance.

Now
!"

Kostya had a phone clamped between his ear and shoulder when he dropped down beside Jack and

started to assess Besian's gushing wound. Beside me, Marley whimpered. I peeled away the blindfold and

untied her wrists and ankles. Dazed and in shock, she blinked at me. Her eyes filled with tears, the shiny drops spilling onto her cheeks.

When she glanced at the scene behind us, her expression changed from one of shock to one of utter

gratefulness. She pushed to her feet, but I didn't trust her shaky legs to take her very far. Supporting her arm, I helped her walk over to the spot where Besian had fallen. She knelt down next to the mobster and

gripped his hand. "Thank you."

Pale and sweating, he managed a weak smile before touching Jack's chest, his fingers leaving a bloody

mark. "Get them out of here."

Jack hesitated, and Kostya gently shoved at his arm. "Go. Take the women and your brothers and get

the hell out of here. Tell Finn not to worry. I'll dig out that bullet."

Jack gave Besian's shoulder a reassuring squeeze before shoving to his feet. He hauled me up and

reached down to grab Marley. Holding Jack and Marley's hands, I let him guide us out of there. Before we

got very far, Marley's stepdad moved into our path. Though he was a hard man, he looked crushed by the

very thought she might have been harmed. He opened his arms and she flew into them. "Daddy!"

"Sh," he whispered and rubbed her back. "You're okay, but we need to get out of here before the cops swarm the place."

"Your bike—"

"Don't worry about it."

As if these bikers practiced for a scenario like this, a truck and a cargo van screeched onto the lot. Men in leather and denim vests hopped out and recovered the shattered bikes. Marley and her stepdad made a

run for the van and piled inside with the other bikers and Romero Valero. The van and truck raced away as

quickly as they had appeared.

Two of the cartel henchmen opened the cargo door on the SUV Julio had wrecked. Dan and his son

were bound and gagged and looked very scared. Even after everything Dan had done, I couldn't stand the

thought of him being hurt. "Jack, we can't leave them here."

He shot me a disbelieving look. "Baby, those two risked your shop and your livelihood. They could

have killed your employees tonight and damn near got Marley shot. They made their choices. Now they get

to answer for them."

Tugging on my hand, Jack urged me to hurry. His brothers were already in Kelly's idling truck. The

moment I was buckled into my seat, Kelly punched the gas and tore away from the scene of the crime like a

bat out of hell. Gripping Jack's hand, I suddenly remembered the camcorder. "Jack! The camera!"

"I saw Lorenzo Guzman pick it up," Kelly said, his gaze fixed forward on the windshield. "Not that it matters now. The hitman and Julio are dead. It's done."

"Is it?" I searched Jack's face for the answer. "I don’t think Lorenzo or Romero are going to let any of this go."

"It's not our problem anymore." Jack leaned over and kissed me tenderly. "We're done with all that bullshit. It's finished."

Finding comfort in Jack's confident assertion, I hoped like hell he was right.

Chapter Thirteen

After a stop at a storage center to drop off weapons, Kelly drove to the museum district penthouse Bee

had recently purchased. The RFID tag on his windshield gave him access to the private parking garage. He

pulled into a spot next to Bee's sporty little car and killed the engine. Twisting in his seat, he pointed to the gym bag behind him. "There are some clean shirts in there. You both need to change before we go inside.

Mattie will flip out if he sees all that blood."

I glanced down at my shirt and Jack's and spotted the smears of Besian's blood.

"Make it quick," Finn suggested. "We've got company."

Jack and I both looked back and spotted none other than Eric Santos crossing the parking garage. Kelly

lifted up in his seat and swore. "We'll head him off but hurry."

While his brothers intercepted the detective, Jack dug around in Kelly's bag for clean shirts. He sniffed

one before handing it over. I couldn't help it and laughed. "Really, Jack?"

"You don't know, Kelly. When he was a teenager, his socks would get up and walk to the laundry

room. They were
that
rank."

I hastily peeled out of my shop polo shirt. After slipping into the too big T-shirt, I waited for Jack. He stuffed our soiled clothes into the gym bag and zipped it up tight. Sliding his hand along my jaw, he held my gaze. "Listen, Eric is going to try to rattle us. He probably suspects something but he doesn't have the facts or evidence to back up his hunches. I know he's your friend. I know you trust him, but we can't risk it, Abby."

I touched my forehead to his. "I hate lying."

"So do I, but I like breathing more," Jack matter-of-factly countered. "We caught a break. Let's not waste it."

I pressed my lips to his in a short kiss. I wanted so much more, but this wasn't the right time to

reconnect. Soon…

Hand in hand, we joined Kelly, Finn and Eric. The detective gave us a long, hard look. "That's an

interesting choice of clothing, Abby."

"We had an accident."

"So I hear," Eric said knowingly. "Is that how we're going to play this one, Abs? All these years we've been friends, and you're going to lie to my face?"

I gulped nervously. "I don't know what you're talking about, Eric."

"No? You don't know about someone shooting up Hadley Rivera's building? You don't know about

three of your employees being found tied up and drugged in your office along with a dead crackhead? You

don't know about a shootout near the meatpacking plant? You don't know about Besian Beciraj ending up

in the trauma center downtown?"

I stared at him. "What do you want me to say, Eric?"

"The truth, Abby."

"I can't."

His jaw hardened. "Jack?"

My man shook his head. "She's right. We can't."

Eric exhaled loudly. "Off the record—what the hell happened tonight?" When none of us spoke, he

said, "How about I tell you a story I heard? It's a story about a video that implicated a certain high-level dealer here in Houston in a hit that took out a biker and a missing stripper. It's a story about a thieving crackhead and a drug-dealing college kid who got in way over their heads. It's a story about a pawn shop

owner shielded by friends in some very low places and her boyfriend who was willing to make deals with

the same outfit that used his baby brother as a punching bag just to keep her safe." He paused dramatically.

"Am I getting close?"

"Eric. Please…"

"Spare me the bullshit sob story, Abby." He backed away slowly and spun on his heel. Without even glancing back at me, he said, "Your security guards and Mark are being kept overnight at Memorial

Hermann. If you give a shit, you should call to make sure they're all right."

Feeling lower than mud, I watched Eric leave. Turning to Jack, I said, "We have to check on them."

"You can call them, Abby. The hospital visiting hours are done for the night. You won't be able to get in until morning."

I didn't like it but accepted Jack was right. "Fine, but we have to go first thing in the morning."

"We'll go in the morning," he promised. Taking my hand, he tugged me along to the elevator where Kelly swiped a keycard. We stepped inside the small gleaming box but didn't speak as the elevator climbed

to one of the top floors of the building. The doors opened onto a private hallway. There was only one door ahead, and it belonged to Bee.

Kelly unlocked the door and held it open so we could enter her home. The ultra-modern and sleek