Bass studied Carrie carefully, intrigued by the light in her eyes. He’d never seen it there before. It looked like...hope. He wanted to put a lot more of it in her eyes and make it permanent. She deserved to live a normal life.
And he might just have a vested interest in getting her to a place where she could settle down. Stay in one place. Consider long-term relationships.
“Do you have all your personal possessions with you?” he asked her.
“Everything’s in the van. I was on my way out of town when I came here to get Mr. Paddles.”
“Perfect. You’re staying with me until Grange is dealt with.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
He snorted. “Honey, I’ve taken out entire international terrorist networks. Some two-bit thug who picks on women is easy.”
Carrie launched herself from her end of the couch and threw her arms around his neck. He caught her lithe body in his arms, relishing the sweet feel of her pressed up against him. She was like a wild thing only he could tame, a fey creature he’d miraculously managed to lure close.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“No thanks required. It’s what I do.”
“Still. I’m grateful.”
He stared down at her, and she stared up at him. An entire, unspoken conversation happened between them. Her desperate need to be free of the specter of her past, his compulsion to protect her from harm, both of their confusion at why they felt so irrevocably drawn to each other.
“What is this thing between us?” she asked, low.
“Whatever it is, it’s meant to be.” He added ruefully, “I’ve tried my damnedest to fight it, and I failed.”
She smiled up at him. “I know the feeling.” She continued slowly, “When I thought I was leaving town, my one regret was never seeing you again. I almost didn’t go.”
“Promise me you won’t ever leave again without saying goodbye.” He had to have a chance to talk her out of going if she tried to run again. To fight for her.
She stared up at him for a long time. Then, “I promise.”
He leaned down and kissed her then, and her arms tightened around his neck. “I need to know you’re not a flight risk,” he murmured against her lips.
“I don’t want to go anywhere,” she murmured back, kissing him with sweet passion. “This is exactly where I want to be.”
He stood up, sweeping her up with him, her weight nothing in his arms. He strode back to his bedroom, carrying her in his arms, kissing her all the while so she would know he didn’t think of her as a child.
And besides, he couldn’t stop himself. He’d almost lost her, tonight, and the residual panic of that rode him hard, poking like a knife into his ribs. She could be exasperating, but now that he’d gotten to the bottom of her frustrating refusal to stand her ground and fight, he understood her much better.
If anything, his need to protect her had only grown with her admissions.
He laid her down on his bed, relishing the sight of her sleek body, her eyes warm as she looked up at him, a come-hither smile on her lips. He murmured, “God, you’re beautiful.”
Her gaze went bashful. Did she really not know how desirable she was? He stretched out beside her, shucking her clothes efficiently as he spoke. “Good thing you never stayed in one place long enough to have a steady boyfriend. Otherwise, he’d have convinced you of just how attractive you are, and you wouldn’t ever have given me the time of day.”
Her hands plucked at the buttons on his shirt and then at his belt buckle. “I still don’t understand what a guy like you sees in someone like me. You’re about as close to perfect as anyone I’ve ever met.”
He grinned and leaned down to kiss her neck, inhaling the soft scent of her skin. “Then you haven’t met many people, have you? I have tons of flaws.”
She arched up into him, her bare hands skimming across his chest muscles and making them jump beneath her palms. “Name me your flaws,” she challenged.
He rolled her onto her back and kissed his way down to the gentle valley between her breasts. He could lay his head there forever and die a happy man. The quick, light beat of her heart was music to his ears. “Well,” he drawled, “I’ve been told I’m stubborn.”
“More like pigheaded.” She laughed as she wrapped her legs around his hips, rubbed her core against his erection, and made him groan with pleasure.
“And I’m overbearing.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she teased as her body undulated invitingly against his.
“I won’t take no for an answer,” he muttered. Damn. He was actually a little out of breath at the mere idea of making love to her.
“Well now, that’s not necessarily a flaw in the right situation.”
He was having trouble following the conversation. The silken slide of her stomach beneath his lips and her fingers spearing hungrily into his hair were distracting as hell.
She tugged on his head and he rose up her body, kissing a path across her golden skin. And then her mouth captured his, open and warm and inviting, like her body and soul. “Make love to me, Bass.”
He positioned himself above her, and then, looking deep, deep, into her dark, sultry eyes, eased into the tight sheath of her body. His eyes all but rolled back in his head at the glorious sensation of her slick heat clutching at his arousal, pulling him deeper and clenching him close when he would retreat.
“More,” she gasped.
He groaned, fighting to restrain himself, hanging onto reason by a slim thread. But then she grabbed his glutes and pulled him all the way to the hilt within her. “Mmm. Better,” she purred.
“You’re an evil temptress,” he growled.
“Then give in to the temptation,” she replied breathlessly. Her hips moved impatiently against his, and he was lost. He surged into her, shuddering with pleasure. He withdrew partway and surged again. She arched up to meet him thrust for thrust, and his mind was blown by the passionate abandon with which she made love to him. He thought she’d been amazing before—but their previous lovemaking was nothing compared to tonight.
He stared down into her eyes, amazed at how generously and joyfully she met him, sharing her body and heart without reservation. Lord, the courage of this woman. She’d been living in her own private hell for years, but even the suggestion of breaking free was enough to transform her from a frightened mouse into a soaring falcon.
His body enforced a rhythm of its own upon the moment, and their lovemaking picked up in speed and intensity. But Carrie matched him every step of the way, her cries of ecstasy rising to mingle with his own shout of staggering joy as they took each other to the moon and back.
He sagged above her, supporting his spent body on his elbows, his forehead resting against hers. She clung to him with everything she had, arms and legs and internal muscles, and he felt more wanted, more loved, in that moment than he could ever recall.
“Am I crushing you?” he managed to mumble.
“Don’t you dare move,” she panted back.
His heart was pounding like a jackhammer, and not entirely from exertion. This woman did things to him that no other woman did. She made him feel things. Emotions. Possessiveness. Protectiveness. Joy. Hell, awe.
“You’re magnificent,” he murmured. He kissed her brow, her temple, burying his nose in her hair and relishing the silky slide of it against his skin.
“Gee, I was about to say the same thing to you,” she replied.
“We’re agreed, then. You’re perfect for me.”
“Am I?” she asked in a small voice. “You’re sure about that?”
He laughed. “Honey, I’ve been around the block a time or two, and I’m here to tell you that you’re one-of-a-kind.”
“Thank you, I think?”
He kissed her nose playfully. “I’m besotted. You’ve done me in.”
She smiled up at him, and he could swear those were tears glistening in her eyes.
“Hey. What’s wrong?” he asked quickly.
“Nothing. I’m just happy. I never dreamed I might have a chance at finding a man like you, let alone a chance at escaping Lonnie.”
“Consider yourself already escaped. Now all we have to do is make sure he knows he’s lost his hold over you.”
Her eyes went dark and fearful, and Bass kissed her again quickly. “Don’t think about him now. Focus on me. On us. On how incredible you make me feel...”
* * *
Carrie rolled over lazily, stretching residual stiffness from her muscles. After the third time they made love, Bass told her to take a nap, and she’d been happy to crash in the cool and dark of his windowless bedroom. Who knew it was possible to feel this happy? Overflowingly so. Not that she had any illusions that Lonnie Grange would go down without a fight. But she wasn’t alone now. Having a man like Bass in her corner made all the difference.
She strolled out into the living room wearing one of Bass’s T-shirts, which was a minidress on her. She pulled up short. Bass was sitting on the sofa, shirtless, laptop on his jeans-clad thighs, typing away. She demanded, “What are you still doing here? I thought you’d be out saving the world by now!”
He looked up at her and smiled. “I told you I’m with you until this Grange character is no longer a threat. I do need to go into the office this afternoon, though. You up for a field trip to a police department?”
“I’ve already been to your office,” she reminded him.
He grinned. “Yeah, but I got you out of there as fast as I could. You didn’t catch the full broadside of interrogation about you and me from my fellow cops.”
“Sounds intimidating.”
He shook his head. “It’s a pain in the ass working with such nosy people. But I have no choice. You’re not leaving my side until this situation is resolved.”
“You gonna arrest me?” she teased. “Handcuff me to you?”
He looked up at her, eyes glinting in amusement. “Don’t tempt me.” He surged to his feet and she squealed, dodging him and running for the kitchen. He snagged her waist on the way past and spun her around easily, catching her against his big, delicious body.
“I hope you’re not too hungry,” he murmured, kissing her until her knees went weak.
“If you promise to make me one of your world-famous omelets, I could be convinced to delay eating for a little while,” she teased, nipping at his lower lip until he growled and slid his hand behind her head, deepening the kiss until she forgot to breathe.
His sofa turned out to accommodate a large man and a small woman with no problem whatsoever. Of course it helped that their bodies twined together, and that both of them were feeling a little lazy after last night. They made slow, sensual love, smiling and trading murmured words of praise and pleasure until she was practically delirious with joy. Bass LeBlanc liked her. Enough to fight for her.
No one had ever put himself on the line for her before.
It was kind of spectacular to think about.
Bass made taking down Grange sound so easy. But in the hard light of day, she knew it wouldn’t be a walk in the park. Lonnie Grange was a dangerous man, and he wouldn’t take kindly to being crossed. The old fear crept into her mind insidiously. Was this a crazy idea? Supremely stupid? Was she endangering not only herself but Bass? It would be so much easier just to run away.
“Don’t psych yourself out,” Bass murmured, sitting up and pulling her into his lap.
“How do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Read my mind like that?”
He grinned down at her. “I don’t read your mind. I read your face. You wear every thought and feeling right out in the open.”
She sighed. “Yeah, that gets me in trouble a lot.”
“I like it. I always know where I stand with you.”
“What about when I’m spitting mad at you? Will you like it then?”
He took her face in his hands, cupping her cheeks gently. “Even then.”
She shook her head. “Who knew a SEAL could be such a sappy romantic? Next thing I know you’re going to start writing love sonnets.”
He put on a thick drawl. “I dunno. Low-country Cajun like me? I kin barely read, ma’am. I don’t take to no fancy rhyming, y’all.”
She rolled her eyes and stood up. “I do believe you owe me an omelet, Detective LeBlanc. Can I help you make it?”
“You can set the table and entertain the chef.”
Which turned out to include kissing the chef any time she walked past him and throwing the chef saucy looks every time he looked up from the stove.
In a few minutes, Bass put down two plates on the table, piled high with hash browns, sausage and omelets that were two inches tall.
“I’ve never seen such a fluffy egg in my life!” she exclaimed.
He swept an arm out to the side and took a bow. He said in a cheesy French accent, “I am zee tremendous chef, mademoiselle.”
She laughed gaily. “You’re tremendous at something. I’m just not sure it’s cooking.”
Laughing, he held her chair for her. “Don’t mess with the chef or he’ll poison the porridge.”
“Note to self: don’t eat porridge,” she retorted.
They continued bantering throughout the meal. He had fully as quick a wit as she, and he kept her on her toes throughout their conversation. They cleaned up quickly after brunch and climbed into a vintage Dodge Charger to drive to the office.
“And who’s this car?” Carrie asked.
“Who else? Daisy Mae. Fastest car I own. They don’t make ’em like this any more.”
She shook her head, enjoying the rumble of the powerful engine and Bass’s smooth driving. They parked in a garage attached to the police station, and Bass came around to get her door for her. He murmured low, “We need to play it cool in the precinct. These guys are barracudas and will leap all over any hint of a personal relationship between us. I can take the heat, but I’d like to spare you the brunt of it if I can.”
“Sounds ominous.”
“They’re not that bad. But they all can sniff out secrets at twenty paces. They’re not cops for nothing.”
“Ugh. They sound like you. But not quite as bad,” she groaned.
“I’m not that bad!”
“Wanna bet, Mr. Truth, Justice and the American Way?”
He held open the door to what he called a squad room, and she registered the noticeable dip in volume as she stepped into the space. She followed him over to one of the neatest desks in the space, while Bass’s desk was still populated by several tall piles of folders and papers.
“Carrie, this is Jarred Strickland, my boss.”
She nodded pleasantly at the gray-haired cop while Bass added, “Miss Price is the closest friend we have for Gary Hubbard.”
“How’s the case going?” Strickland asked.
“Caught some new information last night. May give us a new direction to pursue.”
“Good. Because that case is going cold fast. Still no ransom demand?”
“Nope. Nothing.”
Strickland shook his head direly, and his grim expression spoke volumes about what that meant for Gary. Carrie’s heart tumbled to her toes. Here she’d been having a rollicking great old time with Bass while her uncle’s life was in mortal danger. He had to be alive. He just had to be.
“Tell me everything you can remember about Lonnie Grange,” Bass instructed her.
“I mostly remember not liking him...”
Over the next half hour, Bass teased all kinds of details out of her that she didn’t realize she knew. Coupled with what he’d found online earlier, Bass declared himself prepared to take on the gangster. He finished by stating, “The plan will be to draw out Grange and provoke or tempt him into coming down here into my jurisdiction. Then I’ll nail his sorry ass.”
“How do you plan to lure him down here?” Carrie asked nervously. “New Orleans is a long way from Apple Grove.”
“Easy,” Bass said blithely. “I have what he wants. I dangle the bait under his nose.”
“What bait?” she asked.
“You.”
Oh.
Oh dear.
“Umm, I’m not sure I like the sound of that.”
“I didn’t expect you would. But if all you say about him is true, he’ll come for you, aggressively.”
“Oh, I’m telling the truth about him, all right. That’s why this idea stinks!” She jumped to her feet in dismay.
Bass muttered under his breath so the other cops in the big room couldn’t hear, “I promise I’ll take good care of the bait.”
“The bait still thinks fishing is a lousy idea.” She planted her fists on her hips.
She was on the verge of launching a full-blown tirade at him when one of the other cops, a pretty young woman, called out, “Bass! Evidence guys got two hits on the fingerprints from the Hubbard home!”
Carrie whipped around and said in unison with Bass, “Who are they?”
“Guy named Tony Sicarrio, and a guy named Stevie Desilva.”
“Sounds mob,” Carrie observed.
Bass grinned. “People are innocent until proven guilty, my bloodthirsty minnow. Lots of perfectly law-abiding Italians live in New York.”
“These two broke into Gary’s place and left behind fingerprints!” she exclaimed.
“True.” To the woman cop, he asked, “Where are these guys from?”
“New York City. The Bronx.”
“They’re mob, I tell you,” Carrie insisted.
“They staying in the local area?” Bass asked.
“Got a credit card hit a few days back on a motel in Lakeview for Sicarrio.”
“Text me the address,” Bass called over his shoulder, already heading for the exit.
Carrie trailed along, alarmed. Bass wasn’t going to drag her into the middle of a shoot-out, was he?
His last words before they left the squad room chilled her to her toes. “Call for a couple of black-and-whites to meet me there. Tell ’em to move in within a couple of blocks with no sirens, and then await my call. Don’t want to spook our guys before I take them down.”
* * *
Bass slouched behind the wheel of his vintage pickup truck, while Carrie fidgeted in the seat beside him. He’d gone home to switch out flashy Daisy Mae for this much more anonymous truck before heading for Lakeview.
He’d never been on a stakeout with a woman he was sleeping with, and it felt weird in the extreme. This wasn’t supposed to be an intimate, sexually charged event. But damned if he could keep his mind from drifting to thoughts of pulling Carrie on top of him, unzipping his fly, and sliding into her tight heat—
Stop that.
“How long do you suppose it’ll be before they get back?” she asked.
“Could be a few minutes, could be hours.”
“Why aren’t we busting into their room now to make sure Gary isn’t there?”
“Because they’ve been having the motel’s maid clean the room every day. They would hang up a Do Not Disturb sign and keep everyone out if your uncle was tied up in there.”
“What if he’s drugged or hurt?”
“All the more reason to keep strangers out of the room. The maids cleaned the room as recently as this morning. I guarantee you he’s not there.”
She deflated, disappointed.
“We’ll find him, darlin’.”
“You can’t be sure about that. You’ve said yourself that the more time passes, the less chance we have of finding him.”
“We’ve got solid leads now. Have a little faith.”
She chewed on the end of her finger nervously. Taking pity on her manicure, he reached over and snagged her hand, pulling it to his lap and twining their fingers together.
Just holding hands like this was nice. The physical contact did something strangely soothing to his heart. She gave him hope that everything would work out in his life, and that he wouldn’t end up alone.
Since when was he worrying about being alone? He’d been fine for all these years. He had his buddies and his cars, and a steady stream of women. And yet, having met Carrie, all of that wasn’t enough any more. He apparently craved an emotional connection, a real relationship, more than he’d realized. Although how he was going to make time for a relationship on top of his day job and his weekend job, he had no idea.
Of course, he was assuming that Carrie would want to stay with him, to put down roots in New Orleans, if he asked her to. She’d been a nomad for a long time. She might have lost interest in any permanence in her life.
His gut tightened in alarm at the notion, and he realized he was crushing her hand. He loosened his grip apologetically.
A car turned into the parking lot of the motel, and he went onto high alert. Were these his guys? They parked in front of room 114, where the manager said Sicarrio was staying. Bass picked up a pair of small binoculars and peered at the man getting out of the car.
He grabbed the microphone from the radio unit mounted under the dashboard and broadcast tersely, “I’ve got visual on our suspects. Get ready to move.”
He watched Sicarrio and a second man who matched the description of Desilva open the trunk, carry grocery bags to the door of room 114, and disappear inside.
Bass transmitted, “Suspects are in their room. Unit 51, move in behind the motel and radio when you’re in place.”
Carrie asked, “Why are you putting cops behind the motel?”
“In case our guys jump out the bathroom window and try to make a run for it. We could give chase on foot or get a helicopter to give us air support, but it’s a lot less hassle to just cut off all escape routes before we make the collar.”
“Collar?”
“Arrest,” he clarified.
“Unit 51 in place,” a voice announced over the radio.
“Stay here,” he ordered Carrie. “If you hear gunshots, lie down as best you can and cover your head with your arms.”
“Where are you going?” she asked as he reached for the door handle.
“To arrest these bastards and find out what they know.”
He climbed out of the car and tugged his bullet-resistant vest down into place as he jogged across the street. He headed for the other end of the motel from the room in case one of the suspects was looking out the window and saw him coming. No sense warning the dudes they were about to get busted. He reached the covered walkway in front of the rooms, out of sight of room 114. He raced down the breezeway until he stood beside the door. He drew his pistol.
The second cop car pulled around the corner and started to turn into the parking lot, and Bass knocked on the door.
A voice called from inside, “Who’s there?”
“Hey man, you driving the blue Taurus out here? You left your trunk open.”
Bass heard from inside, “What the hell?” Bass moved off to one side slightly so he couldn’t be seen from the room’s window. He heard fumbling at the lock and exhaled slowly, dropping into the combat calm that made SEALs so deadly.
The door opened about a foot before the guy inside spied him standing there in body armor with his weapon drawn. The suspect tried to slam the door shut, but Bass was faster. He jammed his steel-toed boot in the door, blocking it open, and then slammed his shoulder against the door. Hard.
The man trying to jam the door shut staggered back, but the second man jumped at Bass, trying to shove him aside, presumably to flee. Bass lowered his shoulder and took the charge, bracing himself against the impact. The runner grunted, and Bass whipped up his elbow, cracking the guy hard across the bridge of the nose. The suspect fell back, crying out and clutching his broken, bloody nose.
Bass spun away from the first guy and brought his pistol to bear on the second, who was just pulling a gun from a holster at his hip.
“Don’t do it, man,” Bass said coldly.
The second suspect’s hand froze, his weapon half-drawn. Undoubtedly the guy heard Bass’s promise of a lethal double-tap of lead to the center of his forehead. To reinforce the perp’s decision, Bass said calmly, “I’m a cop. If you finish drawing that weapon, I’ll kill you. Put the gun back in the holster and clasp your hands behind your head.”
The suspect did as ordered.
Bass said, “On your knees, my friend. Let’s keep this all nice and calm and everyone walks out of here alive. Okay?”
The first guy was not so sensible, however, and charged forward, taking a wild swing with his fist at Bass. For his part, Bass sidestepped neatly, leaning back out of the path of the fist and swinging fast with his pistol, clocking the guy on the side of the head. Suspect number one dropped like a rock.
“You’ve killed him!” the second suspect shouted.
“Nah,” Bass replied casually, kneeling and planting a knee in the middle of the downed man’s shoulders. “He’s just taking a little nap. He’ll wake up with a killer headache in about sixty seconds.”
To the conscious guy, he asked, “So where’s Gary Hubbard?”
“Gary who?”
Dammit. Either the guy didn’t know where Carrie’s uncle was, or he wasn’t going to give up the information easily.
Just then, a voice called from outside, “Clear?”
“Clear,” Bass called back. “Come on in.”
A pair of uniformed cops stepped into the room, crowding it. Any sense of hope the second suspect had left whooshed out of him, and he slumped, sitting on his heels, hands still behind his head.
“Restrain the suspects, if you would,” Bass directed the uniforms.
One cop quickly handcuffed the guy on the ground’s wrists behind his back, while the other cop relieved the kneeling suspect of his weapon and handcuffed him.
Suspect number one started groaning on cue about sixty seconds after Bass struck him. Which made Bass smile. He still hadn’t lost his touch. The blow had been delivered perfectly. Hard enough to take out a hostile, but not so hard as to cause the guy any serious damage.
“Where do you want ’em?” one of the uniformed cops asked.
“Downtown. I’ll meet you there. Me and my guys are looking forward to having some conversation with these two.”
“You got it, Detective.”
Bass stuck around while the uniforms searched the room. They confiscated another handgun and some ammo, and Bass took both men’s cell phones. There was nothing else in the room to point at where Gary Hubbard might be hidden.
As the uniforms stuffed each of the suspects into a different squad car, he strode across the parking lot and crossed the street. He opened the truck’s door and slid into the driver’s seat...and was assaulted by Carrie, launching herself across the truck’s bench seat to nearly strangle him.
“Easy, darlin’. I’m right as rain. Nothing to cry over.”
For crying she was, tears wet against his neck.
“That was a routine arrest. Couldn’t have gone much more smoothly,” he tried. But Carrie’s tears didn’t stop.
He finally pulled her into his lap, wrapping his arms around her, and kissing her until she mumbled, “I was so scared for you.”
“Honey, trust me. That was not a scary arrest.” He refrained from telling her he was routinely in situations a hell of a lot more dangerous than that one. No need to give her a full-blown panic attack.
He relished her weight in his lap, her sweet curves in his arms, the gentle smell of her hair. Everything about her was feminine, and he couldn’t get enough of her. It would be so easy to push back the seat, to help her straddle his hips. To lean back and let her ride him to oblivion—
The suspects, dammit. He needed to follow the squad cars downtown and interrogate Tony and Stevie, ASAP. With a last, lingering kiss for her, he reluctantly set Carrie in the passenger’s seat. But he couldn’t resist. He leaned across the interior to kiss her again.
“I want you all the time,” she muttered against his lips. “It’s like I’m addicted to you.”
He knew the feeling. “Hold that thought until we get home tonight,” he murmured against her mouth.
“I’ll hold you to it,” she declared.
He laughed, “Honey, you’ll be holding all sorts of things, tonight.”
The drive to the station took nearly half an hour in traffic, which barely gave Bass enough time to stop thinking about all the ways he wanted to make love to Carrie and to get his head back in the game.
He quickly planned out the questions he wanted to ask the two men. He would separate them, of course. And then he would lie about what each one had confessed, to see if the second man would corroborate Bass’s guesses as truth.
These guys didn’t strike him as rocket scientists. One of them would crack. His money was on the guy who’d knelt out right away. He’d shown a stronger survival instinct than Broken Nose had. It was never smart to take a swing at a cop. Especially a cop with his gun already pulled.
Bass parked and took Carrie inside, putting her in a darkened observation space sandwiched between two interrogation rooms. One-way glass windows on each side of the observation room overlooked both interrogation setups. Speakers from each room piped sound into the dim space.
He told her, “Stay in here. I’ll check in with you from time to time, and you let me know if you can think of anything I ought to ask one or both suspects.”
She nodded, her eyes big and scared. He got why she was scared of cops, but she was going to have to get over her fear of all of this police procedure to be with him for any length of time—
Whoa. Wait. What? Since when had he decided to definitely go for a long-term relationship with her?
Stunned, he stumbled out of the observation room and leaned against the closed door to calm his racing heart. Things were happening so damned fast between him and Carrie. He needed to slow down. Catch his breath. Hell, think with his brain and not his crotch.
Right now he needed to get his mind on business and break these two jerks. Get them to admit they worked for Lonnie Grange and most importantly, get them to tell him what had happened to Gary Hubbard and where he could be found, alive or dead. For Carrie’s sake, he sincerely hoped her uncle was still alive.
As it turned out, Broken Nose—who identified himself as Stevie Desilva—caved first. He wasn’t the brightest bulb in the bin and fell for the ruse that his buddy had decided to save his own hide and confess.
Broken Nose was furious that Siccario was going to get immunity from prosecution for talking first and burst out, “Tony’s the one who should go to jail! He’s the one calling the shots. I just do what he tells me to!”
“Oh, dude,” Bass replied sympathetically, “he’s screwing you over hard in the other room. Totally threw you under the bus. He said you were the one in charge of kidnapping that ghost show guy.”
“Not even close!” Stevie replied indignantly. “Tony got orders from his boss to do it! Tony only brought me onto the job to help out.”
Bingo. Confession to kidnapping. “Who’s his boss?” Bass asked casually.
“Some guy in Philly. Grunge. Grange. Something like that.”
“Lonnie Grange?” Bass echoed. “I’ve heard of him. You work for him? I’m impressed. He’s in Philly now? Last I heard he was running a crew in New York.”
“Hell, yeah, we work for him. And he moved to Philly to get a new start after he got out of jail. You know. Less heat in a new town. And he’s got the best lawyers in the business.”
Confession number two. They worked for a known felon. Now that these yahoos had tied Grange to the kidnapping, he could investigate ole’ Lonnie hard-core. In addition to finding Gary, maybe Bass could find out what the deal was between the bastard and teenaged Carrie. Unfortunately, his internal radar still wasn’t satisfied he’d heard the whole story from her.
Now the trick was to keep these two thugs talking. The more they said before they clammed up and lawyered up, the better. Although Bass highly doubted any lawyer, no matter how good, was going to get these two out of the long and growing list of charges against them.
Bass nodded sagely at Stevie. “A good lawyer can get pretty much anybody out of any charges. I doubt we’re going to be able to hold you more than a day or two before someone screws up some police procedure and we have to let you go. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
Stevie visibly relaxed.
“Soon as you and I are done talking, I’ll call Grange for you and tell him to get his lawyers down here. That way you can save your phone call for someone else.”
“That’s decent of you, man,” Stevie replied.
“No problem. You help me, I help you, right?”
“Sure thing.”
Bass was equally comfortable playing bad cop or good cop, but given that Carrie was watching the interrogations, he was abjectly grateful he got to play good cop today. His version of bad cop would probably send her running, screaming, for the hills, never to return. It wasn’t that he was actually that big a bastard. He was just very well trained to make hardened criminals think so.
“Okay. So after you guys picked up Gary out of that alley and threw him in your vehicle, where did you take him?”
“First we took him back to the motel. Tony had some stuff he made the old guy breathe that knocked him out. Then I stayed at the motel and Tony took him somewhere. I don’t know where.”
“How long was Tony gone?”
“Couple hours. I dunno. I fell asleep.”
“Is he going back to Gary and taking care of him?”
“Oh, yeah. Every other day or so, Tony takes a couple a’ bags of groceries and drives off for three or four hours.”
“That’s square of him,” Bass commented pleasantly. “Is the car muddy when he gets back to the motel?”
“It was a few nights ago. The night we had that big rainstorm come through.”
“That was a big one, wasn’t it? Woke me up from a dead sleep,” Bass replied conversationally.
“Me, too. Tony was plenty pissed when he got back. Said that storm was a bitch to drive through.”
“I can imagine.” Bass stood up. “Well hey. Thanks for your help, and you sit tight. I’ll be back in a little while and we’ll get you out of here. You need anything to eat or drink?”
“Yeah. I could use a beer, but I’ll take a soda. Something caffeinated.”
Bass grinned affably. “I wish we could have beer around here. I’ll send in a drink.”
He stepped out into the hall and paused in front of Tony’s door, collecting himself. Time to put the screws to this jerk. He stepped inside.