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Chapter Twenty-Five

The Expedition careened on two wheels as Jack took the sharp curve in the road. He glanced at his cell phone in the console, gripping the wheel tighter as the road straightened out. No word from Meat .

“ Have you ever been inside the Falzone compound?” Kyle asked.

“ No , but I know the blueprints by heart. It’s gated on all sides.

Eight bedrooms, seven baths, full basement, and a three-car garage.

” Gina could be anywhere inside. The last thing he wanted was to go in guns blazing and get her killed.

He needed insider information. He needed Meat to give him Gina’s location.

He glanced at Kyle . “ I don’t have a warrant. ”

“ We know.” Deke squeezed Jack’s shoulder. “ That’s why lawyers make up fancy phrases like ‘exigent circumstances.’”

His cell shrilled and he grabbed it, but it wasn’t Meat . “ Smitty ,” he said. “ Everything good?”

“ Yeah , we’re pulling into the US Attorney’s Office now. I’ll let you know as soon as we get a warrant.”

Jack exhaled a long breath. They’d get Tino , but Viggiani would likely be dead by the end of the month.

Somehow , the Falzones would get to his witness.

They always did. Was this really worth someone else dying?

For the first time since identifying Jim’s body, he wasn’t sure.

“ Hold off on giving anything to the AUSA until you hear from me.”

“ Why ?” The confusion in Smitty’s voice was understandable.

“ I need more need time to convince Viggiani to go into WITSEC .” If he refused, Jack didn’t know if he could go through with this. “ Just do it.”

“ Okay . Later .” Smitty hung up.

“ Problems ?” Deke asked.

“ No .” Yes . Because of his conscience, he was about to throw his entire case against Tino down the toilet. “ We’re good.”

Before he could set his phone down, it vibrated again—this time with the call he’d been waiting for.

“ You better get your ass here fast,” his informant said in a low voice. “ Tino has the girl tied up in the garage. Hang on a sec. I’ll be right there ,” Meat shouted to someone else. “ Give me a few minutes to get to the front door and unlock it.”

Jack’s phone went dead. He braked to a stop a hundred yards down the road from the compound.

A few minutes . That could mean the difference between life and death.

He gripped the wheel so tightly his hands squeaked on the covering. He stared at the front door to the house, willing Meat to show his face. Until he did, this would be the longest few minutes of Jack’s life.

* * *

The wire cutter dug deeper into Gina’s flesh. Blood oozed from the gash, dripping first onto the vise, then to the floor. She clenched her jaw, refusing to give Tino the satisfaction of crying out.

“ Last chance, bitch.” He yanked harder on her hair, dragging her head back until he was face to face with her, his nose inches from hers. “ Where’s the money?”

No matter what she told him, she was about to lose her finger. After that, she was going to die. The only satisfaction she’d have in what was most assuredly a short life span was to give this sick bastard the bad news. As for getting a dime of his money back, he was outta luck.

“ The money’s gone!” she screamed. “ I’ll never tell you what I did with it. Never .” She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and tensed so hard her entire body quivered.

“ Fine .” With her eyes shut, she couldn’t see him, but Tino’s hot breath washed over her face. “ I love trinkets.”

The wire cutters squeezed deeper, slowly though, as if he wanted to draw out the agony. Her finger was on fire, the pain red-hot, like someone had shoved a burning poker straight into her flesh.

“ That’s enough!” a voice boomed.

“ Oh , shit,” Psycho muttered. “ I thought you said he was gone ’til Friday .”

Tino unclamped the wire cutter and spun. The tool fell to the bench, and Gina nearly wept with relief. Only Pyscho’s tight grip on her other arm kept her from sagging to the floor. Through the haze of pain, she blinked to clear her vision.

Franco Falzone stood on the top step with Rocco behind him. The other man, Meat , was nowhere in sight. Rocco looked from Franco to Tino , then back again. She couldn’t be sure whose side the man was really on.

The head of the Falzone crime family glared at his son as he slowly descended the stairs. He glanced briefly at Gina but made no move to free her.

“ Please accept my apologies.” When the bastard bowed, she was tempted to ram her boot into his gonads. “ What you’re doing for the shelter is commendable. Stealing from me, however, is not.” He gave a subtle nod to Rocco . “ Get rid of her.”

“ What ?” Gina could hardly believe her ears.

“ It’s just business.” He gave her an apologetic look. “ You understand.”

“ Business ?” Her blood heated and not in a good way. “ Just like killing my father was ‘just business’?”

Franco’s gray brows knit. “ Ah . I knew you looked familiar. Tony Perotti . I liked him. And , yes. That was also just business.”

The pain in her hand dissipated until all she felt was the fury shooting out the top of her head.

If it weren’t for the fact she’d leave her hand behind in the vise, she would have attacked Franco right then and there and ripped his eyes out of his head.

Blaming Jack all these years suddenly seemed ridiculous.

Jack wasn’t a murderer. Franco Falzone was .

“ Your behavior disgusts me.” Franco spat on Tino’s shoes. “ You’re nothing more than an animal that should be locked in a cage.”

Amen to that . Yet Franco did nothing to assist her, telling her one thing. He might not like what Tino intended, but it was too late. She’d seen too much, and no one would save her.

Tino didn’t say a word. His back was to her, but she could see his fists repeatedly clenching and unclenching.

Franco was several inches shorter than his son, but the power and authority exuding from the man was worth an extra half foot. “ How dare you betray me?” He pointed a finger in Tino’s face. “ You’re nothing but an insolent child who doesn’t know his place and refuses to obey orders.”

“ I am not a child, and you’re nothing but an old man.”

The slap Franco gave his son echoed through the garage loud enough that even Gina flinched. Tino staggered back, giving her a glimpse of the rage blazing in his eyes.

“ Worse ,” Franco continued, “you’ve been orchestrating a coup behind my back to take over this family. Your coup failed. I’m stripping you of any authority. You are no longer my capo. You are no longer my son. You’re nothing. You’re dead to me.”

Gina could have been imagining it but could swear Franco’s voice trembled. The man—a murderer many times over—couldn’t possibly have feelings. Could he?

A low growl emanated from Tino’s throat, then he lunged for his father, clamping his hands around the older man’s neck and squeezing so hard Franco’s eyes bulged.

Rocco leaped off the top step, latching on to Tino’s arm, attempting to pull him off. Psycho grabbed Rocco’s arm, dragging him away.

Oh my God . A Mafia power play was unfolding, and she was caught right in the middle of it.

She was also free.

Psycho had to release her when he jumped into the fray. All four men grappled, cursing and falling to the floor in a heap of flailing limbs.

Gina fumbled with the lever on the vise grip, praying she wasn’t cranking it tighter. She opened the two halves of the vise, releasing her hand. It was so bloody, blue, and numb she could barely feel it at all.

She bolted up the stairs, pausing to grab the crowbar, then pushing through the door into the house.

For a split second, she wondered where Meat had gone.

Maybe he’d known what was coming and hauled ass out of there.

The only smart one in the bunch. She was tempted to follow his example but couldn’t.

Maria Falzone was locked up in Franco’s study.

“ Maria ?” she shouted. “ Maria ?” No response. She ran through the ground floor of the house, finding one room with its door closed. She turned the knob. It was locked, and the keyhole was empty. She pounded on the door. “ Maria , are you in there?”

A second later, “ Yes . Leave me here,” a frail voice whimpered. “ Just go while you still can.”

Not a chance. “ Get away from the door.” She jammed the flat edge of the crowbar in what little space there was between the door and the frame and pulled.

Pain shot to her injured finger. She hissed in a breath but kept pulling.

Muscles in her already-cramped shoulders, arms, and hand screamed.

It was no use. The door didn’t budge. By the looks of it, she guessed the house was built in the 1930s, which meant the door was well made and solid.

It also meant the keys that opened one door in the house might be used to open another.

Still gripping the crowbar, she spun and raced through the main floor, searching every door for a key and finding none. Oddly , she didn’t see Meat anywhere. She bolted up the stairs to the second floor, checking those doors too. Nada .

Shouting from the garage filtered upstairs. Sooner or later, they’d realize she was gone. Calling 911 was an option but the police would never get there in time.

Plan B . Improvise .

She ran into one of the bedrooms and yanked open the closet door. All the hangers were made of shiny wood. Gina bit back a growl. Who didn’t have at least one cheap wire hangar in their house?

Think , think!

She looked down at her exposed bra. Her underwire bra. She tossed the crowbar on the bed and began working quickly, fighting through the pain in her finger as she jimmied the bra back and forth over the end of one wire until a hole formed in the fabric and she could tug out the curved wire.

The yelling in the garage had quieted some, and that worried her.

She retrieved the crowbar, then pounded down the stairs and flew into the kitchen.

She yanked open drawer after drawer until she found what she needed in one of the silverware trays—a metal pick with a slightly curved tip, the kind used to extract crabmeat from the shell.

She raced back to the study. Quietly , she set the crowbar on the floor.

With shaky fingers, she inserted her makeshift tension wrench and hook tool into the lock.

Sweat trickled between her shoulder blades.

Normally , she’d use her sense of touch to feel the guts of the lock and listen to what the internal mechanism was doing.

Her heart beat so fast, hearing anything would have been impossible.

She could do this. She could break into anything. Anywhere , anyplace, anytime. Gina jiggled the tools until the deadbolt gave way. She turned the knob and opened the door to find Maria curled into a tight ball on the sofa.

“ C’mon ,” she said with quiet force. “ We have to get out of here. Now .” She held out her hand, and for a dismal few seconds thought the woman would refuse to come with her.

One of Maria’s eyes—the only one that could open fully—seemed to clear. She sat up and gave an audible swallow. “ Okay .” With surprising conviction, she rose and took Gina’s hand.

A door slammed. The garage door . Someone was coming for her. Gina dragged Maria to the open door, releasing her to grab the crowbar. As she straightened, Maria gasped.

Gina sucked in a breath. The black barrel of a gun was pointed at her face not two inches away. Tino’s upper lip twitched uncontrollably.

Her heart jackhammered against her ribs. It can’t end this way. I won’t let it. Not at the hands of this sonofabitch.

Ducking away from the gun, she swung the crowbar with everything she had.

Tino bellowed as the edge of the tool glanced the side of his head. He pressed one hand to his scalp, staggering back as blood spewed from a deep gash.

Batter up, bucko . She swung again, but he grabbed the end of the crowbar before it made contact, wrenching it from her hands. He threw it to the floor where it clattered and skittered out of reach.

With a snarl, he advanced on her and jammed the barrel of the gun against her forehead. “ You bitch.”

“ No , Tino .” Maria grabbed his other arm. “ I’ll stay here with you. Just let her go. Please , let her go.”

He shoved Maria away with such force that she fell to the floor. The barrel pressed harder against Gina’s skull. She stared into the face of the last person she would ever see.

Jack’s face flashed before her eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut, wishing for a do-over and knowing her wish would never be granted.

This was it. Game over.