Beloved Killer, page 7
“Great,” she sneered. “Sounds like a Victorian mother’s advice to her daughter on her wedding night.”
He almost smiled.
“I won’t be an accessory to whatever illegal crap is going on.”
“You heard Kuypers. You don’t have a choice. And the law can’t help you. Whoever you tried to talk to, he’d find out about it. Don’t make trouble, Nikki.”
Her gaze bored into him. “That’s where you come in, right? So far you haven’t had to do your job, but if it came down to it, you would hurt me.” She said it as if, despite everything, she’d only just realized it was true.
J’s chest ached at her accusing tone. He wanted to tell her that of course he wouldn’t do anything to her. He would never harm her in any way. But it wasn’t true.
“How many people have you beaten up?” she asked. “How many have you killed?”
“Too many,” he muttered.
She turned away and pressed her forehead against the side window. “Jesus.” That was the last thing she said to him on the rest of the drive.
When J pulled up in front of the building, Nikki had the door open almost before the car stopped. Wait! He wanted to call after her as she climbed out of the vehicle. Don’t hate me. I’m sorry about being a part of this. But of course, he didn’t say anything. There were no excuses or apologies that would make her despise him any less.
And he couldn’t have despised himself any more.
He watched her enter Mike’s Joint and waited until the door closed before driving away. Earlier, when they were walking to his car, he’d thought how, to an observer, they might look like a couple on a date. If that same person were watching now, they might think this was the end of a date that had gone really badly. But of course it hadn’t been a date, and there never would be one in reality, only in J’s secret fantasies.
Over the next few days, J went on his usual collection routes and didn’t have to deal with any difficult clients. He half expected Kuypers to ask him to shadow Nikki again, but Tyrone was sent on that assignment. Kuypers kept J close in an attempt to bring him back in line. J knew his boss manipulated him, playing the you-owe-me card on a debt that would never be paid, but he still fell into old patterns. The desire to please the man who’d once given him life wasn’t easily erased.
During his few off-hours, J forced himself to stay away from Nikki’s bar. He was done with his pathetic crush. To prove it to himself, he finally accepted Tyrone’s offer to go to a club one night where there was easy female companionship available to men with money, drugs, and a reputation for danger.
The woman J chose was pretty enough, but her glazed eyes and desperate laughter betrayed how high she was. There was nothing beneath her brittle surface. Or if there was, she hid it even better than J did. Soft skin and feminine curves had never been less sexy. Not to say he didn’t appreciate the release, but afterward, it was as if nothing had happened at all.
And he still kept thinking about Nikki Larson. He felt as if he were dying in a waterless desert, even though he knew an oasis was just over the next hill.
Almost two weeks later, Kuypers ordered him to go to the bar to divide the product for the distributors. “I want you to oversee. Mac is out of town and Tyrone is too inexperienced.” Meaning he didn’t completely trust him yet.
“Okay.”
J hung up. He’d never asked about whether plans had moved forward, but apparently they had, and Kuypers hadn’t mentioned it. So, Nikki had given in and allowed the shipment to be stored in her back room. Despite the fact he’d told her to do it, J was disappointed she’d given in.
It was Sunday morning. A perfect time to transfer product without anyone suspecting. Mike’s Joint was closed, and Kuypers’s team was in the process of cutting the goods. Over the next couple of hours, the dealers would stop by to pick up their packets. Nikki could open the bar on time on Sunday afternoon with none of her customers the wiser about what had taken place there that morning.
Though the street was empty, J parked a block away. It was an old habit and a safe one. If things went bad during an operation, it was best not to have your vehicle trapped in the thick of it.
He walked up the sloping sidewalk from the marina to the bar, slipped down the side alley, and texted Tyrone that he was waiting in back. After a few moments, a skinny young guy named Abel opened the door for him. Abel remained on lookout while J headed to the room behind the bar.
Tyrone, Chris, and some other new guy, whose name J couldn’t remember, had hauled a couple of boxes from the storage room. They’d covered a pool table with plastic and on that surface were cutting the bricks into smaller amounts and repackaging them.
Tyrone glanced up and greeted J. “Hey, Ice Man. How’s it goin’? Had ourselves quite a time the other night, didn’t we? Ice Man got his cock melted by some pretty fine pussy,” he joked to the others.
“No shit? I thought he was gay,” Chris said, and the new guy laughed.
J hated this kind of male camaraderie and having his private business discussed, but he kept his mouth shut and his face blank.
“Boss man send you to keep an eye on us?” Tyrone asked as he weighed and bagged the drug. “Jee-zus. What the hell does it take to prove loyalty to the man?”
“Where’s the owner?” J asked.
Tyrone pointed. “Upstairs. Chillin’. Waiting for us to do our thing and clear out. She’s a hot little chili pepper. I’d like to get some of that.”
“No doubt,” Steve chimed in. “How ’bout you, Icy? She your type?”
J ignored him. “How long you think this will take? Boss is anxious.”
“Couple hours. No problemo. Invitation’s out. Everyone who’s comin’ to the party will be on time.” A high-pitched beeping like a heart monitor in a hospital room interrupted. Tyrone checked the incoming text. “Batter up. First guest is here for his cake.”
J heard Abel let someone into the building.
Tyrone reached for a sack with Bloomberg’s Bakery scrolled across it and placed three small packets inside as carefully as if they were iced cupcakes.
J’s attention was on him when the shooting began.
Gunshots indoors were deafening. The audio assault alone was enough to make J feel like he’d been hit, even as he watched Tyrone drop after he got hit. Drawing his weapon, J turned on the attackers and fired back, the impact of every shot shuddering up his arm. One of the men’s heads erupted, and his body collapsed in a heap.
J hit the floor behind the shelter of the pool table. The yeasty aroma of old beer wafting from the warped wooden floorboards filled his senses as he took stock of the situation. He’d counted four gunmen. Three, now that he’d dropped one of them. But there could be more in the rest of the building or outside.
Huddled behind a leg of the pool table, J fired underneath the table. He hit someone’s kneecap, then had to pull back as a barrage tore up the floor, peppering him with slivers of wood.
He checked on the others. Tyrone was clutching his gut but firing back, and Chris crouched behind the other table leg. The new guy was out of sight. Chris half rose to fire another round, but he took a hit that spun him around.
Trapped in a room with only one exit, three shooters, and two injured allies, the odds of J getting out alive were bleak, but he had to make a move. He dove underneath the table and emerged on the other side, firing. One attacker fell. The other dove for cover. The third was still howling and trying to stanch the blood spurting from his leg wound.
J crawled for the door on all fours, out of the pool room and behind the bar. He paused, breathing hard and getting his bearings. The shootout had taken less than two minutes, and he’d reacted on instinct. Now he had to decide whether to fight an unknown number of enemies or run for the front door.
It was clear Abel had either been taken out or else he was with the assault team. Tyrone and Chris didn’t look good, and the new guy had disappeared. J should just save his own ass. Kuypers wouldn’t be happy he’d abandoned the shipment but would have to understand he’d been outgunned.
But what about Nikki? If she kept her apartment door locked until it was all over, she should be safe. Either she or someone in the neighborhood had probably called 911 by now. When the cops arrived in the aftermath of a shootout, Nikki could be in serious trouble, as she’d probably admit she’d hidden illegal drugs at the bar.
Another guy came through the bar to check on his partners. J aimed his gun at the man’s back as he walked into the pool room. It would be easy to shoot him, but J didn’t want to draw the attention of more attackers. He crawled toward the other end of the bar. The front exit and stairs to Nikki’s apartment were both in that direction.
Behind him, the action continued. Somebody was still shooting. Maybe Tyrone or Chris or that new guy were still alive. It was enough distraction that he could scoot around the corner without being seen.
J unlocked and unbolted the front door. For one heartbeat, he thought he’d open the door and leave. It would be so easy. But what if the gunmen searched the rest of the building for witnesses? A horrible picture of Nikki sprawled on her floor in a pool of blood filled his mind. J crept up the stairs, putting as little weight as possible on the creaking stairs.
The gunfire ended, and J heard voices, then footsteps walking through the bar.
“Owner’s up in her apartment, but I don’t think we have to worry about her. Let’s get the stash and move out.”
J had only heard the new guy speak a few times but recognized his slight southern drawl. Whether these guys were part of Harris’s crew or independent agents, What’s-his-name was one of them.
“I don’t leave a job half-done. No loose ends, ever,” someone else said, and the footsteps came closer.
“We got maybe minutes before the cops show up.” New Guy’s frustrated tone drifted up the stairs. “We just need to get out.”
J paused at the head of the stairs, holding his breath.
“You two, move the heroin,” the same voice ordered. “I’ll take care of the woman.”
J had reached Nikki’s apartment door. He tried the knob, and of course it was locked. He leaned close and whispered, “Nikki. It’s J. Open up.”
He listened for an answer but only heard the heavy tread of the man coming toward the stairs. J stepped away from the door and aimed his piece. The moment the man appeared around the corner, he took his shot. The bullet ripped into his chest, and the man collapsed against the wall at the bottom of the stairs.
J turned and threw his weight against Nikki’s apartment door, which shuddered in its frame. Another lunge that jarred his shoulder, and the wood splintered around the cheap lock. He threw the door open and ran into the apartment.
The living room and kitchenette were empty. He ran toward a door he assumed led to Nikki’s bedroom or bathroom. It was locked. As he kicked it in, he realized she might have climbed down a fire escape if there was one. Or she might have left through the front door long before the gun battle started, while they were still cutting the heroin.
A baseball bat hit him in the stomach as he entered the bedroom, driving the breath from him and probably cracking some ribs. He grunted as he doubled over.
Nikki drew back the bat, ready to take another crack at him.
J drew enough breath to wheeze, “I’m here to save you.” On that cheesy line, he forced himself to straighten despite the fire that tore through his gut, and grasped her hand to drag her out of the bedroom. “Is there a fire escape?”
“No.”
The thunder of footsteps on the stairs echoed through the room. J ignored his pain and pressed down his fear. He pushed Nikki toward a window in the living room. “Climb out the window.”
“What?”
“Now! A two-story drop won’t kill you. These guys will.”
J didn’t wait to see if Nikki obeyed, but turned to face the door. He took aim and waited, his heated blood turning to ice water. He would hold off these men as long as his clip lasted and give Nikki a chance for freedom.
Chapter Eleven
Nikki had never been so terrified in her life, not even when Jay had kidnapped her. Her pulse hadn’t stopped racing since gunfire broke out downstairs through the moment Jay broke down her door. She climbed out the window, hanging on to the sill by her fingers, arms aching at supporting her body weight before she dared to drop to the ground.
Keeping her body loose, legs bent to absorb the shock when she hit the ground, she was able to land lightly on her feet despite the two-story drop. More shots echoed from the apartment above.
See what colluding with criminals gets you? Her life had turned into a nightmare that wouldn’t end, all because she’d given in and let Kuypers hide his drugs in her storeroom. Clearly something had gone wrong. Probably some rival gang trying to seize the drugs—at least she assumed it was drugs, though she’d forced herself to completely ignore the boxes planted like roadside bombs behind cartons of alcohol in her storeroom. Avoidance had been her coping mechanism.
Because of her cowardice, she’d barely escaped being shot to death, and now Jay was about to be killed. Horror seized her as another barrage of gunfire echoed through the alley. There was no way Jay could survive. He’d sacrificed himself to give her a chance to escape; damned if she wouldn’t take advantage of it. Nikki turned and started to run.
She hadn’t reached the street before she heard something land behind her. She glanced back. Jay lay sprawled in the alley, a pile of long limbs and black coat. He looked like a squashed spider struggling to rise.
Nikki glanced up at the window. In seconds, someone would be firing down on him. He was a helpless target. She glanced at the street, safety an enticing few steps away. But she couldn’t leave Jay crawling on the ground.
She ran back, grabbed his arm, and tried to drag him upright. “Help me out here,” she gasped as his dead weight threatened to drag her down. She slipped one of her arms around his back and heaved with all her strength. Jay staggered up and managed to propel his legs forward. Together they stumbled down the narrow alley.
A sharp rat-a-tat of bullets hit the pavement behind them, and shards of asphalt pelted her calves. Nikki screamed. Fear gave her superstrength as she hauled Jay around the corner and out of range.
She scanned the street, searching for more attackers. Surely these guys would have backup on the street. But she didn’t see anyone except a few curious pedestrians starting to cluster at a safe distance from the building, cell phones in hand. Cops would be coming—sooner or later. Probably later, considering the neighborhood. They’d arrest her when she told why there’d been a shootout in her bar. And what would happen to her in jail? Would Kuypers’s long arm protect her there, or would he ensure her silence by killing her?
A different sort of fear drove her to head away from the growing crowd of gawkers. “Where’s your car?” she asked Jay. Her own was parked several blocks away, too far to drag Jay, whose weight sagged against her, making every step an achievement.
“That way.” He pointed toward the wharf. “Not far.”
As they neared the slips, Nikki caught sight of Jay’s dark blue sedan and steered him toward it. His head was lolling forward on his chest by the time they reached the car.
“Keys,” she demanded.
He reached into his coat pocket. His hand was shaking, and he nearly dropped the keys before she could get hold of them.
She unlocked the passenger door and pushed him inside. As she hurried to the driver’s side, Nikki scanned the area for pursuers, but there was no one following them. Yet.
A distant wail of sirens approached. Help was on its way. She could still run back up the street, leaving Jay out of it. Or she could drive his car up there and turn both of them in. But what sort of charges would she face for letting her business be used by drug runners, and would she really be safe in jail? Jay had told her no place was beyond Kuypers’s reach.
Nikki got in the car and put the key in the ignition. As she put the car in gear, Jay, who was slumped against the door, lifted his head. “Drive west.”
“I can’t run away. It’s my bar. I should go to the cops and tell them everything,” she said without conviction.
“You can’t,” he muttered. “Just do what I say. Head west.”
“Why, are you planning to take me to your boss?” Nikki stopped at the corner and took a good look at her passenger. Blood smeared his face and ran down his neck, soaking into the collar of his shirt. “Are you shot?”
“No. Hit my head when I landed.”
“I should take you to an emergency room.”
“No.” He forced his eyes open and stared at her. “Not safe. Trust me.”
The weird thing was she did. Intuition told her fleeing the scene and avoiding any brush with authority was her only option right now. She needed a breather, a moment to sort through this mess and figure out what to do.
“Fine,” she snapped and turned the car right.
She drove away from the growing din of sirens, checking her rearview mirror obsessively to make sure she wasn’t tailed.
“What happened?” She looked over at Jay, but his eyes were closed again and he didn’t respond. “Oh, great. Now what am I supposed to do?”
She drove for six blocks, her nerves still skittering like Bambi on ice. She needed to pull over someplace and get her anxiety under control. If this was what a panic attack felt like, no wonder people thought they were having a heart attack when they first experienced one.
Ahead, a Vacancy sign glowed red and friendly in front of a cheap motel. Nikki turned into the parking lot. The place looked like a bottom-of-the-barrel hooker motel, which meant they’d probably take cash, leaving no electronic trail.
She parked and went into the dimly lit office, where a thin woman smoking a cigarette sat behind a grill, watching TV. She didn’t ask for ID or fill out paperwork, just took Nikki’s forty bucks and handed her a key card through the slot below the metal mesh.
Nikki drove to the back of the building, parked, and tried to rouse Jay with a shake of his shoulder. It was like gripping a boulder. “Wake up.”
