Page 55 of Mafia Handbook

“No?” Bash shouted, spinning the handle until Crusher’s feet danced on the floor. “How about now?” Cranking the handle one more turn, the sound of bone cracking echoed in the room.

Unable to stand the pain, Crusher raised his left hand, pointing to the ceiling in the corner.

Bash snapped his attention so where Crusher pointed. “Go ahead, check it out. I’ll keep this bastard entertained,” Jamisson offered, slamming his hand in the center of Crusher’s back.

Bash didn't hesitate, crossing the room, he pulled on the cord dangling from the ceiling. A door dropped open and a set of steps extended down like an accordion. Ascending the steps, Bash pulled out his cell, lighting up the attic-like space. Shining the light around, he found a switch on the wall beside him, an oath left his lips when the glow of the overhead light illuminated the space.

“Slate?” Bash yelled down the steps. “Get your ass up here and bring that bastard with you.”

Bash felt a twinge of jealousy as he perused the monitors hanging on the wall. Stepping closer to the makeshift desk in the center of the room, he let out a low whistle as he appreciated the custom-made tower, one which would rival the setup he’d built himself.

Drifting his gaze across the room, his focus landed on a table shoved against a far wall. Separating the distance, he ran his finger through a layer of glitter, while a ball of dried clay was discarded on a paper plate.

Jamisson dragged Crusher up the steps, not giving two shits if he broke every limb on his body.

“What’s all the...Holy Mary, Mother of God.” Jamisson swore as he took in every hacker’s wet dream.

Dusting off his hands, Bash spun around, pointing at the desk in the center. “Log in,” he demanded, his voice full of fury.

“I swear,” Crusher panted. “I swear on my fucking life I don’t know.”

Too frustrated to fight with him, Bash pulled out the chair, dropped fluidly into it and tapped the space bar. Taking a chance Gridlock was lazy and kept one password, he entered the one he knew and was pleasantly surprised when the computer came to life.

“You knew this was here, but don't know the password? Explain.” Jamisson demanded, slapping Crusher against the back of the head.

Bash ignored the antics going on behind him, too busy searching the history and opening files. He located the cheat sheet for the code Gridlock used to hide his tracks, taking great pleasure in emailing it to himself and deleting the program. Clicking on a folder which seemed out of place, Bash leaned back in the chair as disbelief washed over him. Inside the folder was photo after photo of Crusher and a familiar face, most of them taken from inside this room.

“You don’t understand, man.” Crusher pleaded.

“Because it’s not his,” Bash spun around, catching Jamisson’s eye as he pointed to the monitor. “This is what he’s been hiding, this is Gridlock.”

Standing to his full height, Jamisson took a hard look at the faces on the monitor, unable to believe what he was seeing.

“Is that right, Crusher? Is that you standing beside Gridlock?” When Crusher failed to respond, Jamisson looked down at the sobbing prick, kicking him with the side of his boot.

“Yes,” Crusher confessed, collapsing into the fetal position and crying like a baby.

“Get Grant on the phone,” Jamisson barked. “He has an innocent man sitting in jail. Let your friend at the FBI know to send a couple agents, this is about to be the biggest bust of his career.”

* * *

Bash sat across from Jamisson,their feet crossed at the ankles, propped on the corner of the rickety old table. Once Crusher calmed down, he’d confessed how he and Gridlock met, and named the bank where the stolen money was kept.

After securing Crusher in a place where he couldn't contact Gridlock, Jamisson questioned him why he was working so hard for Milena, when it appeared he’d forgotten her? He returned, quite strongly, just because he wasn’t beside her, didn't mean he didn't have eyes on her. How he intended to keep his word, giving her space and allowing her to deal with her father. He assured Jamisson the second Gridlock was behind bars; he would seek Milena out and never be apart from her again.

Jamisson glancedat Bash when the sound of the string to the attic door was pulled. Jumping to his feet, Jamisson stealthily maneuvered himself behind the door, negating any chance of Gridlock escaping.

Bash remained seated, sipping his cup of coffee, the tang reminding him how much he missed the way Milena made it while he waited for Gridlock to appear.

“Crusher?” Bash heard the familiar voice call up the steps. “Crusher, answer me if you’re in here.”

Jamisson waited until the light came on before shoving Gridlock into the room and securing the door.

“Good morning, Gridlock.” Bash announced proudly, dropping his feet to the floor and turning toward the shocked face staring back at him. “Or as your adoring fans refer to you, Oakley.”

Tipping her head to the ceiling, Oakley let out a guttural laugh, before tossing her designer purse onto the chair. “Does that include you, Trespass? As one of my adoring fans, I mean?”

Standing to his full height, Bash ignored the jab as he crossed the room, tossing her purse to the floor and slapping the seat. “Have a seat, princess.” Donning a cocky smile, “Oh wait, that would be Milena, now wouldn’t? How about have a seat, Computer Geek.”

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