Chapter Twenty-Eight
Every muscle in Teagan’s body throbbed with the burn of complete overuse, but even as she slumped over the end of the bar from her favorite perch, she had to let out a bittersweet smile.
They’d done it.
The street fair had gone well past dark, with the over-twenty-one crowd enjoying the beer and the band until the last song played at around ten P.M. Their crew of staff and volunteers had managed to break down the outdoor food service areas with efficiency while the party flowed on. Brennan and Jackson and Shane had taken care of the crowd, while Jesse and Adrian handled the kitchen so she could do the books with her father.
Sixteen thousand, one hundred and forty-seven dollars later, Teagan had finally let out the first honest to God breath of relief she’d felt in over a month. With the cash bundled nice and tight in the office safe and the meeting with Lonnie set, the only thing Teagan could do now was wait out the rest of the night.
And hope that Adrian would start speaking to her again when everything was over.
“Hey.” Jesse’s quiet greeting startled her from her reverie, and she shot upright over her bar stool.
“Hey. Is everything okay in the kitchen?”
“Yeah, of course.” Jesse skimmed a hand over his barely there military skull trim, shaking his head as he moved behind the bar. “You ever going to stop trying to take care of all of us?”
“Probably not,” Teagan admitted, her smile as worn thin as she felt.
Jesse fished two bottles of beer from the cooler, liberating the caps with a fast snick of his wrist. “Thank you.”
Huh? “For what?”
“For taking care of all of us. I know everybody gives you a hard time about it. But it . . . means a lot to me. So thanks.”
“Oh.” It was the only word she could manage past the sudden burst of surprise taking over her brain. “I, uh. You’re welcome.”
Jesse nodded once, passing one beer over the bar while lifting the other in her direction. “Guess we’ve earned this, huh? Brennan hit the kitchen a little while ago and told us we’d made enough to pay Lonnie off.”
“Yeah. My father refused to go home and rest until we were sure, but Bellamy was nice enough to stick around and give him a ride.” The sheer exhaustion on her father’s face had been plain, in spite of his obvious happiness and relief. He’d agreed to start looking for someone to work full-time in the kitchen in order to lighten his workload, and within a week or two, she’d be back at the station, jawing with her partner, Evan, and driving the ambulance like she’d never been away.
“Well,” Jesse said with a smile. “Here’s to good plans in bad situations.”
But before Teagan could get her beer halfway to her lips, Brennan appeared in the doorway from the kitchen, looking as serious as a five-alarm fire.
“You put the money upstairs, right? All of it?”
“Of course,” Teagan said, her palms going cold and slick over the bottle in her grasp. “My father and I put it in the safe about an hour ago, just before he left. Why?”
Brennan’s eyes went pitch-black. “Because it’s gone.”
“What?” She and Jesse let loose with the startled word at the same time. “That’s impossible,” Teagan continued. “I locked the safe myself. Anyway, the side door’s bolted and Adrian’s in the kitchen. No one could’ve gotten past him.”
“Adrian’s not in the kitchen.” Jesse’s words burned a path all the way through Teagan’s gut as he swung his gaze between her and Brennan. “He took off about twenty minutes ago, as soon as we were done with breakdown. Said he was beat and wanted to go home. He didn’t tell you?”
“No.” Teagan’s brain pitched hard as she grabbed for rational thought, for any explanation at all that would make sense.
Let me go instead so we can end this whole thing once and for all . . .
Oh. My. God.
Teagan flew out of her chair, making it halfway across the floor before even registering her legs beneath her body.
“Jesse, I need you to stay here and finish closing everything down. Shane’s still outside, so ask him if he’ll stay with you. Brennan, I need you to make sure my father’s safe at home. Don’t argue!” she snapped as he opened his mouth. “Just do it. And call me the second you get there, do you hear me?”
“What’re you going to do?” Brennan asked, but Teagan had already swiped her keys from behind the bar.
“I’m going to Adrian’s apartment. He’s got a lot of fucking explaining to do.”
Adrian pulled his cell phone from his back pocket, hitting ignore to kill the vibration even though the move took a serious potshot at his gut. Replacing the thing in the pocket of his jeans, he shifted the nylon strap of his gym bag over one leather-bound shoulder, doing his best to hide his cast and calm his nerves. The pool hall was exactly as seedy as his gut had told him it would be, and Adrian soaked in a good visual of the building from the neon-lit parking lot, memorizing every exit and each dark corner. No matter how well prepared he was, there were still a hundred ways this could go south—a cold, hard fact he’d known the instant he’d lifted Lonnie’s phone number from Patrick O’Malley’s cell phone at five thirty this morning. Even throwaway cell phones popped up in a person’s call history, and as much as Adrian hated not just his actions but what they would get him for his trouble, he stood by what he’d done.
Teagan couldn’t be here. Even if she’d never forgive him for this.
Well . . . if he lived through the night, anyway.
Bulldozing past the thought, Adrian kicked his boots into gear, the steady cadence of his footfall keeping time with his racing pulse. He paused for just a second on the crumbling threshold, closing his eyes and sending up his first prayer in almost a decade.
I get it now, Nonna. I love her with no regrets.
A wall of stale smoke and bad intentions hit Adrian in the face as he stepped into the ugly, narrow box of the main room, the muted click of the pool balls and the conversations hovering around the tables both halting at his presence. The hitch lasted less than five seconds, but there was no doubt in his mind that every eye in the place was on him, and on him hard. Luckily for Adrian, at two o’clock in the morning, even disreputable pool halls weren’t that heavily populated.
“Can I help you?” The bartender crossed his arms over his dingy muscle shirt, his hard-edged expression suggesting that nothing on the planet could help Adrian now that he’d had the balls to walk into this place, but Adrian served up a look just as mean, along with a haphazard shrug.
“I’m looking for Lonnie Armstrong,” he said, angling both his hurt arm and the gym bag against the bar and out of sight.
The bartender’s laugh was as oily as it was humorless. “This business?”
“No. I’m here because I like his winning personality.” Adrian pressed forward to cancel out the guy’s menacing frown. “Tell him Adrian’s here, and I’ve got what he’s looking for.”
At the implication of either money or merchandise, the bartender’s eyes narrowed to slits. He picked up a cell phone, swiping at the screen before putting it to his ear. After a minute’s worth of muttering back and forth, the guy hung up and jerked his chin toward a narrow hallway lined with cheap, fake, wood paneling.
“Second door on the left. Knock unless you want to get shot.”
Fucking great.
Arian adjusted his leather jacket for maximum coverage before placing his fist dead center in the heavy steel door, and what do you know? It felt pretty good to give the thing a decent whack. He scanned the rest of the hallway, taking in the other two doors marked as restrooms, as well as the crooked exit sign at the very end of the corridor.
After the longest minute of Adrian’s life, Lonnie’s brother, Trigger, cranked the steel door inward on its hinges. Holy shit, Trigger was still built like every inch of a double-wide trailer, and he stared down at Adrian with a big, fat nobody’s-home in his eyes. But it was too late to fall back now, so Adrian jerked his chin to the open real estate over Trigger’s massive shoulder and worked up some bark to go with his bite.
“I’m assuming you girls don’t want to do this in the hallway.”
A sound that started as laughter but ended in something more like a smoker’s hack echoed from behind The Great Wall of Trigger, who stepped back to reveal Lonnie in all his crooked, gun-running glory.
“Well, well. You are just a bad penny, aren’t you, Mr. Holt?” Lonnie’s hand dropped to the small of his back, just briefly enough to indicate the weapon surely concealed there. “Gotta say I was surprised to get your phone call a little while ago, what with already havin’ set up a meetin’ with Mr. O’Malley tomorrow.”
He pushed off from the flimsy particle board desk in the back of the office space, motioning Adrian inside as Trigger pulled the door shut with a heavy bang. The room barely exceeded storage closet status, topping out at maybe nine feet square and not a window or another exit in sight. Adrian stepped toward the desk, shifting so his back was to the wall rather than the door as he pegged Lonnie with a stare.
“That’s me. Full of surprises,” he said, and Lonnie’s smile became all teeth.
“I hate goddamn surprises. You’re lucky yours involves money.”
Lonnie moved close enough for Adrian to smell the greasy stink of his skin, bringing them face-to-face in front of the desk, and Adrian fought the deep-down urge to lay him out clean. Instead, he loosened the bag from his shoulder and handed it over.
“It’s all there. The whole fifteen large O’Malley owes you.”
“You won’t mind if I don’t trust you,” Lonnie said, pulling back to swing the bag to the desk. He jerked his chin at Trigger, who unzipped the bag and went to work with a cash counter as if it was just another day at the office. Adrian waited out the screamingly silent handful of minutes until the magic number flashed on the digital readout.
But Lonnie never moved his predatory stare from Adrian’s face, not even when Trigger gave him the nod, and shit. This was the only time in his life Adrian had hated being right.
“Looks as if we’ve got a problem, Mr. Holt.”
“You got your money,” Adrian challenged, battening down the this-is-bad flying through his gut.
“Yes. But see, my meeting—my business—was with Mr. O’Malley. And he’s not here.”
Trigger’s cell phone sounded off in a loud buzz, and Adrian forced himself to stillness as he calculated his next step. “O’Malley’s not coming, Lonnie. I told you on the phone—you want the money tonight, you get to deal with me.”
Lonnie’s face bent into a frown, but whatever answer he was going to pop off was cut short by the low murmur Trigger put in his ear.
“Well! Turns out you ain’t the only one full of surprises, Mr. Holt.” He gestured toward the door, and when a no-nonsense knock echoed through the room, all the air vanished from Adrian’s lungs.
“Looks like your girlfriend came to represent the old man.” Lonnie’s expression went from dark to deadly in less than a breath. “And if I can’t have him, believe me, son, I will take her instead.”
Any hopes that Teagan had held on to for a simple cash exchange were demolished as soon as the flinty-eyed bartender pushed her through the door to Lonnie’s office. The bare-bones space couldn’t have seen a good cleaning in years, the grime coating the walls like a promissory note of what would happen if you stuck around the place long enough. But she was here to end this, once and for all, tonight.
Relief-tinged anger churned in her belly as Teagan caught sight of Adrian on the right side of her peripheral vision, although she forced her stare forward to the spot where Lonnie stood. Giving Adrian a full look would either blow what little composure she had or tempt her to murder him on the spot, and she couldn’t afford either right now. As soon as Brennan had called her to say her father was safe at home and had no clue where Adrian was, she’d slapped the facts together fast enough. But she wasn’t going to let Adrian throw his freedom on the line by making this payoff alone.
No matter what it would cost her.
“Aw, look! It’s my favorite cherry!” Lonnie stood front and center at a desk by the back wall, wearing a jeans and T-shirt combo that had seen better days and a scummy I-own-you smile that made her want to knock him into next week. “Come on in and have a seat, sugar. You’re just in time.”
Teagan took as few steps inside the office as possible, turning her back toward the wall even though it angled her face-to-face with Adrian. “I’ll stand, thanks. Since this won’t take long.” She gestured toward the stacks of money just behind Lonnie’s position in front of the desk. “I see you got the money my father owes you. So we should be square.”
Lonnie’s laugh slunk through her bones. “Oh, honey, as I was just explainin’ to Mr. Holt here, we’re far from square. See, this fifteen grand is what your daddy borrowed from me. But it ain’t what he owes. The way I do business, there’s interest on cash borrowed.”
Teagan’s gut sank like a stone, but she didn’t stand down. “You’re a gun-running loan shark, Lonnie. The way you do business is illegal.”
Lonnie’s stare went from predatory to murderous, and he sharpened his gaze over her like a double row of razor wire. “Watch your mouth, cherry, or I’ll watch it for you.”
Adrian shifted forward at the threat, only a half step ahead of Trigger, but Lonnie was faster on the draw than either of them. The square-nosed black handgun he whipped from the small of his back sent fear careening through Teagan’s chest, sucking all the oxygen from the room as everyone froze.
“Your boyfriend here is a bit uppity,” Lonnie said, one hand on the gun and his gaze split between her and Adrian, but oh God, she couldn’t rip her eyes from the weapon in his grip.
“Don’t,” Teagan whispered, the word a plea rather than a demand, and Adrian let out a barely audible breath in response.
Do not look. Do not show Lonnie how much Adrian matters.
Do not give away that he’s everything.
Lonnie relaxed by a hair, lowering the gun to his side but still keeping a tight hold on the thing as he clucked his tongue at Teagan. “I always knew this guy was gonna be a problem. So here’s how it is. Your old man owes me more than this, and I want it now.”
“We came up with the fifteen thousand,” Adrian ground out, and oh God, the sound of his voice was heaven and terror at the same time. “What more do you want?”
“Five grand interest, or I’m in the books at the Double Shot tomorrow.”
“What?” Teagan barked, realization settling in like a dread-soaked delayed reaction. “You were never going to let my father go with a payoff, were you?”
“You got me, Mizz O’Malley.” Lonnie held up his hands in mock surrender, his cowboy boots clacking hard against the floorboards as he stepped behind the desk. “But at the end of the day, I’m a businessman just like your daddy. Opportunities like the one at the Double Shot don’t grow like apples. I let y’all be for a few weeks so you’d come up with some cash for me—although I gotta say, I never had you pegged for all of it. The fifteen grand is nice, but now I want my real due, and I’m gonna take it.”
Icy cold tendrils of panic speared through Teagan’s veins. “You can’t use the Double Shot to launder your gun money.”
Lonnie nodded toward Trigger, who started shoving the piles of cash back in the bag lying open on the desk. “Oh, but I can. The problem with gun money is that it doesn’t clean itself, and this pool hall is startin’ to raise suspicion. I knew the minute I laid eyes on you that I could play you and your daddy off each other to get what I really wanted. The devotion’s just touchin’.”
He placed his free hand over his T-shirt, flashing a condescending smile before his expression morphed back to dark and deadly. “But it is gonna be your downfall. Now you, Mr. Holt, are my problem. You’re a wild card. Truth be told, I didn’t think you’d stick around after I sent my associate to the bar. I’m not quite sure what to do with you now.”
Sweat bloomed over Teagan’s forehead, even as her hands balled into fists. She opened her mouth to tell Lonnie to leave him alone, to let Adrian walk and she’d find a way to get the five thousand—to get anything—but Adrian’s voice stopped her dead.
“Why don’t you hire me?”
Lonnie’s stringy head snapped back in shock, and even Trigger’s normally blank eyes went wide from his post beside his brother as the uncut shock of Adrian’s words reverberated in Teagan’s skull.
“No!” she shouted, finally setting her eyes fully on him, and Adrian’s gray-green stare pierced right through her with finality and remorse.
“Even trade, Lonnie. You leave the O’Malleys alone, and in exchange, I’ll come work for you. Nine months in Rikers gets a man a very unique set of skills, not to mention contacts. You want in on some big-time New York gunrunning? I can get you there. But you need to walk away from the Double Shot. Now.”
Tears stabbed at Teagan’s eyelids, born of both sadness and pure anger. Adrian’s strange behavior, his pulling back to become more detached, his insistence that he make the exchange in her place made sudden, flawless sense.
He’d planned to trade his freedom for hers all along, only she’d been too blind to see it.
Lonnie shook his head, slinging the bag over his shoulder without loosening his grip on the gun. “Damn, son! You are full of surprises after all. But here’s the thing. As tempting as your offer is, I don’t trust you.”
He tossed a look from Trigger to the spot where she stood, pointing the weapon at Adrian at the same time Trigger closed in on her to lock his arms around her body.
“Wait.” The word fired from Adrian’s mouth just as Lonnie hit the Glock’s safety with a click, and Teagan fought twin urges to fight and vomit.
“You don’t want to shoot me, Lonnie. And you don’t want to hurt her.” Adrian lifted his hands, his voice oddly loud and slow as he stepped all the way back toward the wall. “You’re a businessman, remember? The Double Shot is nothing compared to what I can get you in the city. Why don’t you put that gun down, tell your brother to let the girl go, and we’ll talk about it?”
The silence wreaked havoc on Teagan’s eardrums, a strange thud making its way into her consciousness past the terror in her throat. But then Lonnie nodded at Trigger, who loosened his anaconda hold on her shoulders and shoved her toward the door.
“Go before I don’t let you,” Lonnie hissed, putting his gun on the desk. Teagan scrabbled for purchase on the grime-slicked floor, turning to protest as Trigger yanked the door open to push her into the hallway, but a jumble of testosterone-fueled shouts and the slam of heavy footsteps cut her off.
“Bealetown PD!” came the bellow from the main room, and Lonnie swung with a savage glare.
“You fucking set me up?” he spat, face contorting as he turned toward Teagan.
But before Lonnie could face her fully, Adrian snarled from across the room, “No, asshole, I set you up. You fucked with my woman, and now you’re going to pay the price.”
At the same moment Detective Winston burst through the open door, Lonnie snatched his gun from the desktop and shot Adrian in the chest.