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I slammed on the brakes and jumped from the armored car, leaving it in the middle of the street. The outside of the club was utter pandemonium. People poured from the open doors, which revealed a dark, quiet interior. Tiffany and another dancer were huddled near the sidewalk. Tiffany was in tears, and the other woman was doing her best to comfort her. Hank stood in a cluster of men, all of them pale and shell-shocked. A couple of bouncers were trying to keep people away from the club.
I didn’t have time to even ask questions. I headed for the door.
Charity jumped in front of me. “Stay out of there, Danny. It’s bad. We’ve already called the police.”
At that moment, it became clear the police had already been there. Several detectives scrambled from cars down the street and pushed through the throngs of people starting to gather on the corner. I would make them pay if anything happened to Hannah. Dumb shits. How long had they planned to just sit there before approaching Richie Silvestri?
“My girl’s in there.” I moved Charity aside gently, only because I didn’t want to hurt her. Charity’s face became hard, and when she started to speak, I yelled at her, “I’m a fucking cop! Get the fuck out of my way!”
She gripped my arm. “Danny, wait! Do you have a gun?”
My hand instinctively went to my side where my gun would normally be holstered. I didn’t have my gun. It wasn’t part of my disguise. “No, fuck, but that’s okay, I don’t need a gun to take down this prick.”
She looked as if she struggled with a decision, and then she reached behind her back and pulled a snubnosed Smith and Wesson .38. She pressed it into my hand. I gazed at it in shock.
“I’m DEA,” Charity said. “I know what’s going down, but my orders were to bide my time, wait for backup, and do not confront him, no matter what. They’re shit orders, but that’s the way it is. So”—she shoved me—“if you’re going, do it now before he hurts her.”
When I managed to get through the sea of people and inside, I took stock quickly. No customers. Hannah was not behind the bar. The speakers spit out nothing but soft static. Everything was quiet, dark, eerie, and in front of the bar lay Jonell, a small puddle of blood pooling around his head.
I knew he was dead. Still, I hunkered down and felt for a pulse.
“Fuck, Jonell, I’m sorry.”
A crash sounded from upstairs. I sprinted through the club and took the stairs three at a time. I pulled back my leg, my bad knee screaming in protest, and kicked the door, blasting it inward.
Hannah lay crumpled on the floor. I could do nothing but hope she was okay because Richie whirled around, and before I knew what hit me, a bullet ripped into my chest.
I staggered back and fell against the open door. A black veil tried to come down over my eyes, but that wasn’t happening today. Today I had to save my girl, and if killing this piece of shit happened in the process, so be it.
I tried to pull a painful breath into my lungs. Damn it hurt.
“Get away from her, you cocksucker,” I growled the words over a painful breath. I pulled the trigger and had a moment to see the bullet hit Richie in the center of the forehead before the floor slammed up to claim me.
* * * *
I BLINKED, TRYING TO figure out where I was. Everything was hazy and white, but I knew I wasn’t in heaven. Sure, I was an okay guy, but I’m not sure I was good enough for heaven, even though I thought my mother would use bribery to get me in. A moan escaped me.
“He’s awake,” someone said.
I managed to lift my hand and found something gauzy wrapped around my eyes. Slowly it began to unravel, and I blinked again to find a solid, somewhat blurry nurse smiling down at me.
“You smashed that pretty face into the floor and split your forehead nearly in half. This was just a precaution.”
“How are you feeling?” The question came from my commander, who rose from a chair and stood above me.
“Like I’ve been run over by a steam roller.”
“A bullet to the chest will do that,” he said.
I glanced around to take stock. An IV hung from a bag and dripped liquid into my arm. I assumed it had pain medication, too, because I felt okay. Nothing really hurt, though I felt stiff. The heart monitor beeped away cheerily, as though just reminding people I was alive in case they wondered.
“The bullet hit your lung, which is just a shade better than your heart. You’ve had surgery, of course, and you’ve been pretty much out of it for three days.”
“Silvestri?” I whispered, my voice barely a croak. I knew I’d hit him but still had to make sure. “Is he dead?”
“As a doornail.” The commander moved closer to peer down at me from the side of the bed. “Your girl’s been by to see you.”
“My girl?”
“Hannah Silvestri.”
I blinked at him and tried to swallow. “She’s okay?”
“She’s more than okay. She’s a freaking gem. She gave us all the details for the heist, down to the name of the co-conspirators. She had made copies of everything on the flash drives that Richie had her deliver. She’s also willing to testify against everybody involved and supply any other information we need down the road.”
“And Butch Collette?”
“Collette wanted to make a deal, but with Hannah testifying, his value went downhill fast. He’s going to be doing some serious time.”
“I’m the last one to defend Collette, but at least he didn’t shoot at anyone.”
“That might take five years off the considerable sentence he’ll get, but if he cooperates, he’ll make out better than the others.”
“How about Archie Devereaux?”
“Hannah doesn’t seem to think he’s involved in anything too deep. It’s up to the DA. She said she’d hire a good attorney for him if it comes to it. I think she feels like she owes him for bringing you to the club.”
That statement made me smile internally, but I didn’t need to get into it with my boss. “How can she afford an attorney?”
“She inherits Richie’s clean assets. Money. Businesses, real estate, stocks, bonds, the works.”
“Jesus Christ. She gets all Richie’s assets? How... ironic...So where is she?”
“Right in the hallway.” He strolled to the door and opened it, sticking his head out. He said a few quiet words and then turned back to me. “I’ll make sure the two of you aren’t disturbed.”
I nodded, and before I could prepare myself, there she was.
Her lip was swollen and looked tender, and the bruise on her forehead was a rainbow of blues and purples. A jagged red scrape sliced across her cheek. She had a splint on her wrist, and had the prick still been alive, I would have killed him with less kindness for what he’d done to his sister. Hannah looked as though she’d been through a battle, and yet she’d never looked more beautiful to me.
The dark hair caught the last of the day’s sunshine slanting through the window, glistening in a glossy braid over her shoulder. She wore a yellow dress, and her long, lean legs went on forever. She reminded me of sunshine and soft breezes and tropical drinks. She seemed thinner, not quite as powerful as she’d always looked at the club, and I remembered, despite Richie’s cruelty and abuse, he had been her brother and he was dead. Death caught us off guard so easily.
“First, I want to say thank you,” she said. “For saving me... and for stopping him.”
I nodded, and she came closer. “And second?”
“You lied to me, Danny.” Her words were quiet, solemn. “I wondered after everything happened whether your name was even Danny, but your commander told me it is.”
“Daniel Dutton.” I held out my hand, and she looked at it curiously. “Nice to meet you, Hannah Silvestri. Can we start over?”
I waited, hoping she would let us start over.
“I don’t want to start over,” Hannah said.
My breath stuttered in my chest. Well, Daniel Dutton, you can’t have everything.
She leaned over the bed, put her good hand on my shoulder, and kissed me. “I want to pick up where we left off. You’re my boyfriend, aren’t you?”
I nodded, too shell-shocked to get any words out.
“You owe me a trip to the Navy Pier.” She glanced at the closed door and then carefully straddled my body, her soft body settling over mine—just like heaven. “And you said you’d show me paradise.”
“That, my dear, is a promise I intend to keep. Go and lock the door.”