Page 168 of Guarding Grace

“Are you sure you want to take the lead on this?” Lucas asked. It was just the two of us today.

“Absolutely. Grace’s safety is my responsibility, and it’s her cousin who made this mess.” A vision of Grace from this morning, stretched out lazily on my bed, came to mind. I could not fail her today.

The entrance routine was just as it had been before, except this time Lucas kept his weapon as my backup, and I was unarmed.

I walked into the room with my back straight and my head high.

Lucas followed with the roller suitcase.

Today, Tall Tony was flanked by Baldy and Mustache Man as before, but also another four goons, all of them obviously armed.

I was a sniper without his rifle, and felt as naked as the day I was born. I wasn’t bringing Tony good news, but hopefully he wouldn’t feel the need to take out his frustration on us.

Tony eyed the suitcase skeptically and steepled his hands. “You told me you’d find that little Elliot fucker. Tell me you brought me his head.”

“Better than that.”

Tony’s face lit up. “His head and his balls?”

I took the suitcase from Lucas. “Would you like to see?”

“Damned straight. Up here.” Tony stood and slapped his desk. “Hold on. It isn’t going to leak or anything?”

I shook my head. “No.” It was an honest answer.

Lucas knew what was coming, but he didn’t even smile.

Lifting the suitcase onto the desk, I slowly unzipped it.

Seven sets of gangster eyeballs watched as I opened it. A burned smell filled the office.

“What the fuck is this?” Tony bellowed.

Baldy pulled his gun, waving it back and forth between me and Lucas.

“You said you wanted the case back,” I answered. “This is what’s left of it. Elliot Boyle, the little idiot, thought he could open it and died trying.” The suitcase was filled with a thousand little pieces of the case Elliot had been tasked with delivering, and the two engraved counterfeiting plates that had been the cargo. We had scratched them enough that they were now worthless.

“I don’t see no head here.”

I shook my head. “Have you ever seen what two pounds of C-4 does to a body?”

Tony didn’t answer.

“Well, I deployed to Syria, and I can tell you what you get is mostly a red mist from this much explosive. Maybe a few little pieces.”

“I want those fucking pieces to mount on my fucking wall as a lesson to people that you don’t fucking cross Tony Russo.”

Typical.I’d expected as much. “An explosion of this size catches the attention of the cops, and they got there before we did. We greased a few palms to get this stuff, but the body parts had already gone to the coroner. Since the manner of death was pretty obvious, what was left of him was released to cremation.” I shrugged. “But I’m claiming the five-hundred-grand reward for the return of the case.”

“For this pile of junk?”

“Are you saying that’s not the case?”

“Hold on.” Tony motioned for Baldy to put his piece away, and he did. “Without a body, how do you know it was Elliot that blew himself up?”

I pulled out the pieces of the chain and spider pendant Elliot had always worn and threw them on the desk. “There’s blood on there. Check the DNA, if you want. We already did.”

“That’s Spider’s all right,” Mr. Mustache said.