Page 35 of Dangerous Games

“You’re too pretty to end up like this, you know? It’s a shame your brother got tangled up in this. We’re going to bring him right in here to say goodbye before we gut him. You can watch if you’d like.” He pushes a hair out of my eyes and hooks it around my ear and I jerk my head away.

“You’re a monster. Get out of here!”

He chuckles and stands, backing away slowly, but this time he takes the crate of tools with him. Now I can’t hold back the tears. They come hard and fast. I don’t want to stop them. Jimmy is everything I have left; they can’t kill him. I need him.

I stand and limp over to the door and bang on it, screaming like an idiot. Someone has to stop them; they can’t be allowed to do this. “Let me out!” I bang on the door harder, wishing I had that pry bar now. The knob won’t turn, locked from the outside, and I am both scared and angry. Where is Dominic? He has to know by now that I’m not where I am supposed to be. I glance at the bracelet. Isn’t this thing working? Why isn’t he here?

“Let me out! Dominic is going to kill you!” I pound on the door until my hands hurt, then I open my fists and smack it, sobbing, until I can’t stand anymore.

This isn’t supposed to be happening. When Dominic barged into Jimmy’s house that day, I wanted to protect my brother. That’s it. He was going to hurt Jimmy, so I told him I’d go with him willingly, and now look at us both. I should have stood up to him, sent him away. I should have forced Jimmy to run away, leave the city.

I slide down the door crying and sit leaning against it. I want Dominic to show up and do what he promised. He fucking promised! And here I am locked up, kidnapped again, only this time it’s real. This time, I’m going to die if he doesn’t show up. I can feel it in my bones. I don’t want to die. I want Dominic to show up.

“Please, don’t hurt my brother,” I scream, still bawling my eyes out. “Please, Jimmy got dragged into this by Dominic. Please don’t hurt him.”

I don’t even know if anyone can hear me now. I stopped hearing voices outside the door. In fact, I don’t hear the engine of the tow motor either, and I sniffle quietly so I can listen to what’s happening outside the door. I press my ear against the metal; it’s cool, and I feel vibrations from somewhere. In the distance I hear talking, but it’s not close. I wipe my eyes, using the hem of my shirt to wipe the snot from beneath my nose—disgusting yes, but there are no tissues in here.

“Hello?” I say aloud, hoping someone is there. I hear footsteps. “Hello?” I call, anxious. I’m not ready for Jimmy to show up, to say goodbye. It’s too soon. He’s all I have.

Something slams into the door hard. It makes such a loud sound I’d swear it was a gun going off. I back away from the door, cowering in the corner by the filing cabinet where the tool crate was sitting. The bang happens again, then again. I’m shaking. “Stop! Please,” I cry, curled up in a ball, hugging my knees to my chest.

I cover my ears and rock, clamping my eyes shut. I want Dominic. I want to go home!

21

DOMINIC

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out. I’m crouching behind a dumpster that reeks of dead fish, but guards pass by here every few minutes. It’s the only isolated place to hide out. I answer the phone, hissing, “What!” in a loud whisper.

“Dom, it’s Jimmy. The Italian is dead.”

My chest is already pumping hard enough to fuel a freight train but knowing that bit of information starts to put it at ease. “And the mole?” I ask, careful to keep my voice low. I’m so close to the end of this thing, I can’t blow it by getting caught now. Jimmy did his part, at least most of it.

“His name is Nick. Has a scar above his right eye. I got that much off the Italian before I put a bullet in his forehead. Now where is Nan?” Jimmy sounds frantic, but he needs to calm the fuck down. If he comes storming in here, he’ll ruin everything. This is going to take precision to extract Nanette from where I know they have her locked up. I know this warehouse like the back of my hand; it’s the only logical place—the back office.

“I’m getting her, Jimmy. You need to lay low now. You’ll be on everyone’s radar, my family and the Italians. You need to avoid your house. Go to a park, someplace public. Make sure you don’t have any blood on you.”

“You think I’m stupid? Of course, I have no blood on me.”

Jimmy raises his voice and I’m tempted to do the same, but I hear footsteps crunching gravel on the pavement and I hold my breath. Hal walks past, carrying his AR 15 and I’m not sure who he’s working for right now. We have patrols around this building at all times anyway, but there is no telling if he’s loyal to me or Nick. And now that I know it’s Nick, I’ll have no trouble putting him down.

“Are you there?” Jimmy snaps.

“Yes, dammit. I’m hiding.” I freeze as the footsteps stop, then look over my shoulder. Hal pauses for a moment, does a sweep with his gun, then continues moving. “Look, be at my house in two hours. Bring the man’s finger as proof he’s dead. You’ll get what’s coming to you.” I hang up the phone and pocket it, this time shutting it off. I don’t need the buzzing from vibrations alerting anyone to my presence once I get inside.

It doesn’t take me long. Following our strict schedule of guard passes, I slip into the front door between rounds. I have barely thirty seconds to get down the short front hallway to the scaffolding that overlooks the production tanks below where fish are being descaled and gutted for transport. This isn’t the real job; it’s just a front for the gun smuggling, but it keeps the lights on.

Halfway down the first hallway, I slip into the men’s room to hide as the guard rounds the corner to do his pass of this hall. I count to fifteen, peeking out to see his back turned toward me as I crack the door. He never suspects a thing as I step out, heading the opposite direction as him. At the end of the long hallway, just past the door to the production floor is the office. I hear Nanette crying but in the interest of not drawing any unwanted attention quiet yet, I hold my tongue. She’s asking if someone is out here but if I call to her, she’ll really freak out.

I try the doorknob silently, but it’s locked and I don’t have the key. I glance around, seeing nothing but an old wooden tool crate. Nothing in it looks helpful at picking the lock, but the weight of the crate itself may just bust the knob loose. I have less than a minute until the guard walks out of the production floor into the hallway, and with the tow motors in there no longer making their noise, I’m about to take a risk that could end my life. But I have to do it.

I pick up the crate, tools and all, and heft it over my head. When I bring it down hard on the doorknob, Nanette stops talking. I don’t even waste time calling out to her. I lift the crate again, bringing it down hard again. The knob breaks slightly, dangling at an odd angle as I bring the crate down on it once more. As soon as it springs loose, I drop the crate and pull out the screwdriver, using it to pry the latch bolt out of the striker plate and the door swings inward.

I push it open hard, causing it to bounce against something, but I don’t even bother looking at what it hits. Nanette is curled up in a ball against the wall with her ears plugged and her eyes clamped shut. She’s shaking and I don’t have time to mess around. I rush over to her, grabbing her arms.

“No,” she screeches, and I cover her mouth with my hand.

“Shhh,” I hiss, looking over my shoulder. “We have to get out of here.”

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