Page 33 of Dangerous Games

“Oh my god, they got her. They took her and where the fuck are they going?”

“Jimmy, calm down.” I can’t make sense of what he’s saying. It sounds like nonsense mumbling.

“They took her, Dominic. They fucking took Nanette. She’s gone. Right out of my living room.” He’s winded; he’s been running. I hear nothing in the background except silence, which means he is not in a car chasing whomever it is that took my woman.

“What do you mean they took her? Who took her?” I move toward the front door with catlike speed, racing to my car.

“Some guys in black. There were gunshots, then I ran. I thought Nanette was behind me. She wasn't. I was out the back and over the fence before they got in the house, but she wasn’t with me. And now she’s gone. They took her.”

“Okay, stop,” I said, climbing into my car. “What else do you see? Look outside.”

Jimmy whimpers and huffs. It sounds like he’s on something; he’s definitely not sober. “There is some dead guy on the sidewalk in a pool of blood. At least, I think he’s dead. He hasn’t moved a muscle in a few minutes, and that’s a lot of blood.”

“Fuck,” I snap, pulling out onto the road. “What does he look like?”

“I don’t know. Tattoo, ratty flannel shirt. He’s got red hair.”

My heart sinks at his description. I know it’s Red. “Get out there and check if he’s alive. Now!”

I slam my foot onto the gas pedal, not even worrying about stop signs or oncoming traffic. I’ve driven in enough high-speed chases to maneuver these crowded city streets. After several minutes I’m halfway to Jimmy’s place and he’s back on the line. “He’s dead, Dom. The guy is dead. They have her,” he sobs, almost the same cry I had when I walked into my mother’s room and found her dead. I know that cry, that dread of grief sneaking up on a soul and raping it.

“Goddammit, Jimmy. They have her because you can’t do your fucking job. Finish it now, or she’s going to die. You get off your ass and do what you couldn’t do before, because I promise you, these folks aren’t like Gallagher. Once they hurt her, they’re coming for you, and they won’t stop until you’re dead.” I hang up the call and weave through a busy intersection way faster than is legal.

My phone chimes again, the app alerting me to Nan’s deviation from our plan. Now I know it isn’t her; it’s trouble—deadly trouble. I push the accelerator down harder as I open the app and mount my phone in the hands-free holder. The chip’s beacon flashes on the map revealing whatever vehicle they have her in is still on the move. That’s not good. If they were keeping her alive, they’d have gone to one of my safehouses, not out of town.

I turn down High Street, hoping to cut them off. The longer that beacon flashes, the more likely I’ll figure out where they’re headed. I’m still miles out from catching them, but the beacon is guiding me. My only hope at this point is that they don’t realize I’m tracking her. We’ve used trackers like this bracelet before, but it’s not common. Usually, we place a bug on a car or the bottom of someone’s shoe.

“Fuck, Nan… I’m coming.” Tires squeal as I turn down an alley, bouncing so hard I almost smash my head on the ceiling of the car. I have to get to her. I promised I’d protect her, that I’d help her get her revenge, and I’m not about to sit back and let them do to Nanette what they did to my mother. Not even Sven would allow that, if he knew. I don’t think he knows about Nanette right now, only Jimmy, which doesn’t bode well for her. They will torture her, try to get her to cough up information on her brother.

I push the car to its limits, following the beacon until it turns toward the port. I know exactly where they’re going now. They planned for me to take my fall at the port shipping yard during the gun shipment exchange, and their play failed. I slow down, knowing that drawing attention now will be a bad thing. They will be expecting me for sure. This means they don’t even care that she may be tracked. She may be dead already. Their game isn’t to take her to get to Jimmy. She was their target all along. They’ve drawn me out, lured me away from the safety of my own heavily secured home into the open. I turn down an alley, stopping the car for a moment.

I take a deep breath and blow it out, trying to think clearly. If they know Jimmy is involved like Red said they do, they could have taken him at any time, killed him, and gotten rid of his body without me knowing. They don’t want him. He’s too easy of a job. Nanette, however, pinned up in my home, hidden away by me, she’s the real one they want because she’s bait. And here I am like a moth to a flame, chasing them down. I have to think.

I pound my forehead with the heel of my hand. “Think, Dominic. Goddammit.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. I can’t trust anyone anymore. Red is dead, and Sven will only get us both killed. I have to go in alone, decide who it is that is against me, take them out, then break Nanette out of there—if she’s still alive. It’s my only option.

A little calmer, I pull out of the alley and onto the street. If I go right through the front gate, there will be an ambush waiting. If I sneak in the back, they’ll have guards waiting. So, I do the only thing I can think of. I see a straight box truck parked at a filling station almost a mile out, and I stop and park next to it. The driver sits in his seat munching on some sort of food, and I climb right into the passenger door and point my gun at him.

“I am going to need you to drive,” I tell him calmly. “If you do what I say, you will not be hurt at all. I just need a lift somewhere I can’t take my car.”

“Yeah, yeah, buddy,” he says, his accent thick. “Look, you don’t have to point your gun at me. I’ll take you anywhere you want.” He throws his food out the window and puts the truck in gear. “Where you need to go?”

“The shipping yard at the port, dock A.” I lower my gun and glance around. “Got another hat somewhere?”

The man’s head jerks backward. “Back there,” he says, indicating the six inches of space behind his seat. I turn over my shoulder and see a ball cap, blue with red letters on it that mean nothing to me. I slap that thing on my head and nod at the road. “Get me there quickly. A woman’s life depends on it.”

The man pulls into traffic and speeds up. I’d have been barreling along, but I hold my tongue, trying to be patient. If he can just get me close, he has nothing else to do. Right now, the only thing I can think about is getting to Nanette and making sure she’s alive and safe. And I’ll gun down anyone or anything that stands in my path. I’m on the edge of my revenge; I can taste it. Even if I have to take it myself instead of Jimmy.

The driver gets me through the gate easily, stopping a few hundred yards from the warehouse where I know my gun shipments arrive. Nan’s beacon is still chiming; she, or at least her body, is in that building. I put my phone on silent and turn to the man. “I owe you a great favor,” I tell him. “You look up Dominic Gusev when you get a chance. Anything I can do to help you, you name it.”

“Gusev? You mean like Bratva?” His eyes go wide, and I nod.

“Anything you ever want or need; you find me and it’s yours.” I slip out of the truck cab and as soon as my feet hit pavement, I race to the nearby dumpster to hide. I need to collect my thoughts and make a plan. I just can’t do it in the open.

20

NANETTE

The car bumping around left bruises on my shoulders and hips. First, they threw me in the trunk of a car, and now I’m curled up against a wall. Whatever this room is, it smells like rotten fish and mildew. It feels damp too, like someone’s just had a shower or maybe we’re near the port. I listen intently hoping to hear something that clues me in to where I’m at, but all I hear are the sounds of a factory—the beep of a tow motor, some machines running, and men shouting over the equipment.

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