Mine to Hold (36 page)

Carlson paused, a muscle twitching in his jaw. Then he looked at the gangbanger who’d patted her down. “Did you check her thoroughly?”

The goon nodded. “She’s clean.”

The asshole’s gaze fell on her purse and narrowed. Del gripped it, doing her best to breathe through the fear and act like nothing troubled her. Quickly, he grabbed it, rummaged through it, shoving her stuff this way and that. Satisfied, he threw it on the ground at her feet.

“You want a story, honey. I’ll give you your story since you’re going to be dead in the next five minutes. After I’m done talking, I’ll let Double T take you back to your ex-husband’s bedroom and put a bullet in your brain.”

Del glanced at a smiling Double T and tried not to panic. She had to stay calm if she wanted to bring Carlson down.

“Don’t think for a minute that this was someone else’s idea,” Carlson growled. “No one knows exactly how to manipulate the system like I do. No one is better at it than me, you stupid whore.”

“You had someone plant the bomb in my car.” She didn’t ask; she knew.

“Of course. You were becoming tiresome, digging into my affairs and my finances. The intent was to end you quietly.” He sent a look of displeasure to the thug against the kitchen wall. “Someone didn’t get the memo.”

Euphoria swept through Del. She might die for this, but Carlson had already said enough to incriminate himself. Still, she didn’t just want to nail him for conspiracy to commit murder or accessory to murder, she wanted him to go down for fraud, money laundering, racketeering, bribery . . . the whole nine yards. She glanced at Eric, wondering if he’d go down, too. He looked shell-shocked.

I didn’t know,
he mouthed. About the car bomb, she supposed. Would it have made a difference if Carlson had told him? Maybe. Del could see the panic and anger on his face. He might be a douche, but he didn’t want her dead.

She couldn’t linger on that now. She had to get Carlson to admit as much as possible on tape.

“It took me a long time to piece together your system of funneling drug money from the 18th Street gang to your dummy company, Communications Redirect. You sometimes used your wife’s interior design business or your brother’s car dealership, which kept me guessing. You were clever, spreading it around like that. What was the cut you took from the 18th Street crew, five percent?”

Carlson scoffed. “As if I’d settle for such a paltry amount or go to that much trouble for mere pennies. I take fifteen percent, and I earned every bit of it. Besides, I used a portion of that to pay others, like your ex-husband.”

Her disappointment must have been all over her face. Eric sighed, his shoulders drooping. “I know what you’re thinking. I’m . . . sorry.”

“You cheated on me, accepted bribes from scum. How far would you have gone the other day if I hadn’t kicked you in the balls?” He didn’t respond, and Del’s anger grew. “What is wrong with you? You are
not
the man I married. You’re not the man I thought you were.”

“Yeah, I’m kind of discovering that, too. When we were married, I just wanted . . . more than I had. Carlson made me an offer. I took it. I liked the girls and the cash. The more I had, the more I craved. I’d finally gotten kind of happy right before the shooting. Then one fucking bullet changed everything. All my anger was magnified. I . . . don’t even know what the fuck happened to me after that.” He sounded miserable, his voice full of self-loathing. “Maybe I just went bad.”

He hadn’t always been, and she felt sad for him. But he’d made his bed. And this wasn’t about her baggage with her ex. She had to get the dirty ADA to keep incriminating himself.

“How much money have you made in this scheme, Carlson?”

“In the last three years? Millions. Every year just gets more lucrative.”

God, the whole thing disgusted her, but she’d gotten her story. Xander should have all that footage captured. Now, she had to hope that Tyler could help her or find some way to escape.

Del struggled for something to ask, anything to live a few minutes longer and try to find a way out of this. Maybe Tyler and McConnell had a plan. Tyler wouldn’t let her die without giving his all to rescue her. No matter what, he would have her back. She had to buy him more time.

“Does your wife know?” she asked Carlson.

“Of course not. Marbella is beautiful and likes everything lovely. She leaves all the finances up to me.”

“Your brother?”

Carlson nodded. “We often used his shipments of new cars to make deliveries. His reputation as a very legitimate businessman is invaluable. No one suspects a thing.”

Del turned to Eric. “And how much did
you
make?”

“Babe, don’t do—”

“I am
not
your babe. After everything you did to screw up our marriage and my life, and you owe me the courtesy of one answer. How much money did you make?”

He sighed. “A couple hundred thousand dollars. I used the money from Carlson to buy you out of your half of the house.”

So she’d unwittingly taken drug money. Damn it, that pissed her off even more. “Bastard! And now you’re just going to let me die?”

Eric turned pensive but said nothing.

“After I’m dead, I hope the fact that you’ve left a little boy motherless keeps you up at night.”

“Touching,” Carlson sneered. “I think we’re done here. I’ll be leaving the house shortly and calling the office so there will be witnesses to the fact that I had nothing to do with your murder. In ten minutes, I’ll be long gone, and Double T can end your miserable life. Detective Catalano, you will call nine-one-one and say that you’ve just arrived home to find your ex-wife dead in your bedroom. It will look like a tragic suicide, because she pined for you terribly and no longer wanted to live without you. I’ll have Detective Hines in Homicide smooth it over.”

Del sucked in a breath. Carlson laid out the details of her death like a man would talk about the weather. Little inflection, no importance. Just follow a career criminal to her death and have her legacy be that of a troubled woman unable to move past her divorce.

That just couldn’t happen. Where was Tyler? What if he’d been captured or injured or couldn’t get into the house? Fear tore through her belly. If that was the case, it was up to her to save herself and make sure he was all right.

Across the room, Double T impatiently gestured for her to join him at the entrance of the hallway. Del opened her mouth to argue, but it went dry. And arguing hadn’t freed her yet. She had to keep her eyes peeled and look for an opportunity. If she was alone with one man instead of four, she stood a better chance, despite his AK-47.

On wooden feet, Del took a step forward. Inside, she felt numb, almost dead already. But her heart pounded, her blood roared, her thoughts raced—all screaming that she was very much alive. She watched Double T, waiting . . .

The goon leaning against the kitchen wall smirked as she passed, then he called to Double T, “Don’t have all the fun with
la chavalona
without me,
vato
.”

Double T laughed and grabbed her arm. “Don’t take too long, or I’ll already have wasted her.”

***

PRESSING
his back against a wall farther down the hall, Tyler had to count to ten to restrain the urge to kill the motherfuckers. He was going to tear the bastards limb from fucking limb, and that included Eric. His former friend had given him the means to save Del, but hadn’t done anything else to contribute to the effort. It hurt like hell to realize that if he’d paid more attention to Eric’s behavior before the shooting, this entire shit storm might have been avoided.

Of course, that would mean giving up Del and Seth, but he’d do it gladly if it kept them alive.

Footsteps resounded down the hall’s hardwood floor, one set sure and impatient, the other a frantic scramble without rhythm, accompanied by feminine moans of pain, and then the sounds of someone being dragged.

Definitely, Tyler would kill the sons of bitches. But for this to work, McConnell would have to be at the top of his game.

As the thug carrying Del stomped passed him, Tyler jumped out from around a corner and gouged the fucker in the back of the neck with the blade. He dug it into his spine, severing the cord and killing him instantly. Del backed away with a gasp as Double T began crumbling to the floor. Tyler shot her a warning glance as he caught the gang thug before the sound of his fall echoed through the house.

He pointed to the bathroom door, hoping that Del understood. She did and opened the door quickly to avoid the telltale creak. Moments later, Tyler deposited the homey in the big claw-foot bathtub. Slowly, soundlessly, he drew the shower curtain shut, concealing Double T’s body.

Shooing Del out, Tyler nudged her into the master bedroom. “Crawl out the window and around the side of the house. Don’t go out the back gate. It makes noise. You’ll have to climb the fence, but Xander is—”

“I’m not leaving you here alone.”

She looked gorgeous and stubborn, and Tyler wanted to argue, but they didn’t have time. He should have known she wouldn’t bow out. Instead, he handed her one of his Glocks and his phone with a sigh. “You know what to do. McConnell should be watching my back. Text Xander. Tell him to make sure Carlson doesn’t escape out the front.”

Then Tyler turned to creep down the hall and finish this.

She grabbed his arm. “There are two more of Carlson’s goons out there, one against the wall between the living room and the kitchen, the other near the front door.”

“Thanks, angel.” He cupped her cheek.

“I don’t know what Eric will do. Please come back to me in one piece.”

“Eric can either get on board or take a bullet between his eyes. His choice.”

“I love you.” She clutched his arm tighter.

“I’m going to come back and love you in return.” He pressed a hard kiss against her lips, then he prowled toward Eric, Carlson, and the gangbangers.

With his back hugging the wall between the hall and the living room, he angled his head to look into the kitchen. McConnell had wedged himself into a shadowed corner. Tyler nodded, and Xander’s bodyguard sprang into action, making his way to the back door and rattling the handle.

It could easily sound like someone trying to escape.

Carlson barked, “Check that out. Manny, back door. And Huero, master bedroom.”

Tyler heard two sets of footsteps pounding across the living room floor, drawing closer. He waited, breath held for Huero to hit the hallway. Once the homey rounded the corner, out of Carlson’s view, Tyler slit his throat clean. With little more than a gurgle, the punk went down. It was sad; this kid looked barely over eighteen. But he’d been willing to help kill Del, and that’s all Tyler needed to know.

He dragged the dead gangster to the tub, tossed him on top of Double T, and left the bathroom. Fuck, there was blood all over the floor and all over his shirt, but he’d worry about that later.

“Manny, what the hell is going on?” Carlson barked. When he didn’t receive an answer, he called out again. “Huero?”

Dead silence. Literally.

After a quick prowl to the end of the hall, Tyler peeked into the kitchen. Sure enough, McConnell had taken out the last gun-wielding asshole without losing his breath. In fact, Xander’s bodyguard looked relaxed enough to prop up his feet and have a beer while he waited for the next confrontation.

Tyler smiled. McConnell was as advertised. Holy shit, this might work.

“Damn it, answer me!” Carlson demanded.

Not gonna happen
. Tyler smiled.

The ADA growled, a deep sound of frustration. “They’re probably too busy getting some pussy and not thinking about the fact that Hines having to cover up a rape will make burying all this more difficult. You have a gun, Catalano?”

“Always.” Eric walked across the room, and a moment later, Tyler heard the sounds of a cartridge being loaded into a pistol.

“Good,” Carlson said with approval. “Go kill the bitch. Didn’t she cheat on you? That should make this fun.”

Tensing, Tyler waited, breath held, to see what Eric would do. A moment later, he heard the cocking of the gun. “I’ve done enough to Del. I won’t do that.”

Tyler froze. Had Eric finally decided to grow a set and do the right thing?

Carlson just started laughing. “Don’t point that at me. I
own
you. If you cross me, I could kill you outright, but that would be too easy. I think I’d rather see you in prison. How long do you think you’d last before the members of 18 and other
Sureños
find out you double-crossed them? What do you think they’ll do then?”

Low fucking threat, but a real one.

“I’ve done a lot of your dirty work for the last two plus years,” Eric said. “The way I look at this, my life is toast no matter what I do. I fucked it up, and that’s no one’s fault but mine. Del was only trying to do the right thing, and I’m not going to kill her for it. I loved her once.”

“Boo-hoo.” Carlson mocked. “Listen to your stupid bullshit. The ‘right’ thing is whatever I tell you to do. Don’t grow a fucking conscience now.” He sighed impatiently. “I’ll go get Huero out of the bitch’s pussy and kill her myself.”