Chapter Thirty-Two

Sunday, ten a.m.

  

Through her never-ending network of sources, Darcy found a hole in Vito’s armor big enough for Brack to punch a fist through. Vito had weekly appointments in a luxury hotel suite with a certain masseuse. Brack, Mutt, and Darcy wondered if Regan knew about it. The best part was that Vito kept it on the down low by using only one security guard—Jack Townsend—to accompany him. Everyone knew the head of Vito’s security was the best, so nobody messed with him.

Vito believed himself safe.

That was up until Sunday morning at ten when Brack and Mutt knocked on the masseuse’s door dressed like bellmen. Brass buttons glinted against the itchy black material. Their attire came from a local uniform store and fit well enough for the occasion. The short-billed caps they wore when seen through a peephole would make it tough for even their own mothers to recognize them.

This was one of those times when Brack didn’t want to think too hard about what was about to happen next. They wanted Vito, preferably alive. They needed him breathing at least long enough to tell them where they could find Regan. But with everything that had happened, nothing was a given any more.

Townsend opened the door and Brack hit him square across the jaw. The Aryan stumbled backward. Mutt and Brack entered. Brack pulled out the telescopic baton and with a flick of his wrist extended the weapon.

Mutt moved around him and went to the back of the suite.

Townsend stepped back, eyes on Brack, and rubbed his face.

He gave his head two quick shakes.

Brack wanted blood today. Now. For beating and torturing Cassie. For killing Nina, and Mindy, and Kai.

From somewhere in the apartment, a woman screamed.

Townsend said, “You’re a dead man.”

Brack swung the baton.

Townsend side-stepped the blow and punched Brack in his exposed gut.

Brack felt the pain but gritted through the jolt. He knew he could not take his attention off his opponent, who bounced around like a lightweight champion.

Townsend came in low.

Brack swung the baton again.

Townsend ducked it a second time and gave Brack a one-two blow to his gut.

It was harder to grit through the pain a second time. One more blow and Brack knew he would be in trouble.

Townsend bounced back and then forward. Brack swung the baton again. It cracked across Townsend’s face. Townsend spun with the blow and Brack took the opportunity to smash his left knee. The giant collapsed. There was no mercy from Brack for this man. The pain and suffering he’d caused many others was immeasurable. Brack decided that Townsend would die here today.

From where he lay on the floor, Townsend saw Brack raise the baton again. He tried to roll away from the blow but was too late. Brack slammed the weapon across an exposed wrist and heard bone snap. The once-great warrior curled into a fetal position, so Brack kicked him in the middle of his back.

From behind Brack, Mutt said, “Opie, we gotta go.”

“I’m not finished.”

Mutt grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him away. “Give ’im a rain check. Vito left the building. We gotta go now.”

“How’d he get away?”

“He shoved the girl at me,” Mutt said. “There musta been another exit.”

“Okay.”

Mutt let go and Brack kicked Townsend in the face twice before Mutt grabbed him again and shoved him out the door.

They ran from the masseuse’s suite. The fact that it was located on the fiftieth floor meant they had to take the elevator. But less than sixty seconds after pressing the call button, the doors swished open and they got on. Mutt hit “L” and they were off. Brack could only pray they wouldn’t stop at too many floors on the way.

Mutt pulled out his Beretta and checked to make sure a round was chambered. “We been in some crazy situations before, but nothin’ like this.”

“You know we might not make it,” Brack said.

Mutt tucked the pistol in the front waistband of his trousers. “You say that before. Let’s work on havin’ a positive attitude.”

“Okay, I’m positive we might not make it this time. You didn’t let me finish off Sasquatch upstairs. He’s still a threat.”

“You broke his jaw, his nose, his knee, and his wrist. I think we’re safe from him for now.”

Brack wanted a cigar. Instead, he took out a piece of Bubblicious, grape flavor, and popped it in his mouth.

Mutt toked on vapor.

The doors opened on the twenty-fifth floor. A well-dressed older white man and woman started to get on, took one look at Brack and Mutt—even though their attire du jour was of bellmen—and stepped back. Mutt waved as the doors closed.

“Guess we scared them,” Brack said.

“Guess so.”

The next stop was the ground floor. As soon as the doors slid open, they bolted from the elevator, raced through the lobby, and ran out the front door, their bellman caps still in place. Darnel, Tara’s brother, waited for them in his Mercedes sedan. They jumped in the idling car and Mutt shouted, “Hit it!”

Darnel sped away and Mutt and Brack changed back to their street clothes. At the first stoplight Darnel turned to Mutt. “You guys all right?”

“Opie took down Townsend, but Vito got away.”

The light turned green and Darnel took off again. “Where to now?”

“Opie, you got any ideas?”

“Yes.” Brack pulled out his iPhone and called Darcy.

She answered with, “The police were called to the Towers. I’m guessing you’re not dead and you need something.”

“We lost Vito,” he said. “Any idea where he could be?”

“Where are you now?”

“Traveling down Peachtree.”

A pause, then, “Meet me at the Varsity,” and she ended the call.

Brack told Darnel.

Mutt said, “Good. I’m hungry.”

Ten minutes later they pulled into the parking lot of Atlanta’s original, the Varsity. Mutt jumped out and went to the counter. Before Darnel or Brack could object, he ordered six burgers, a mound of fries, and four large Varsity orange drinks.

Within ten minutes, they were busy stuffing their faces.

Darcy approached their table. “I see you guys didn’t bother waiting.”

Mutt swallowed half a cow, smiled, and said, “You know how disrespectful Opie can be.”

Back-doored by his own comrade, Brack said, “You look great.”

And she did. Blonde hair pinned off her neck, light blue V-neck t-shirt, cream-colored walking shorts, and sandals. Minimal, if any, makeup.

“Thanks.”

Brack slid over and she sat next to him. A burger, fries, and the fourth drink sat in a tray that he pushed in front of her.

“What have you found out?” she asked.

“I found out Opie here can still do some damage.”

She said, “I heard it was Townsend. That guy deserved a lot worse.”

Brack looked at Mutt. “That’s what I said.”

Darcy took a sip of her drink. “Since you’re being so professional and all, what else did you gumshoes learn?”

Brack didn’t reply.

Mutt didn’t reply.

Finally, Darnel said, “We were kind of hoping you could tell us where to go next.”

Darcy looked at him, then Mutt, then Brack. “I don’t know how you guys handle tying your shoes every morning.”

“I usually wear sandals,” Brack said.

She smirked. “Not in this town.” Pulling out her phone, she got up from the table and made a call.

Darnel asked, “Is she always this friendly?”

Mutt guffawed.

Brack cleared his throat. “Um, wait ’til we have to ask her for bail money. Then she’s a real peach.”

Darnell said, “Sounds like you three have a lot of history.”

Brack’s sidekick answered. “You could say that. See, that foxy lady over there love a good story. Anything to get her pretty face on the television. Me and Mr. Opie here, we make news. She helps us along, but when the bullets start flyin’ and the bad guys start dyin’, it’s us droppin’ the hammer.”

Brack said, “You’ve been working on that last line for a while, haven’t you?”

“That obvious?”

Darcy came back to the table.

“Is what obvious?”

“Uh, how many times we gotta ask for your help,” Mutt said.

“Let’s see,” she said. “I moved six hours away from Mr. Romeo and here I am right back where I left off. But I don’t mind. Vito just walked into the City Club.”

Brack stood. “What are we waiting for?”

“Easy there, Opie. We gotta problem.”

“We had a problem,” Brack said. “Now thanks to our favorite weather girl, we’re down one.”

“I appreciate the compliment,” Darcy said, “but what Mutt is trying to say is that we can’t simply walk into the City Club.”

Darnel said, “It’s the most exclusive club in Atlanta.”

“How much will it take?” Brack asked.

Darcy put her phone in her purse. “I know you want to show off how much money you have, Mr. Ex-Porsche, but we are talking the nine-figure crowd. That means a one and eight zeroes in the bank just to shake hands.”

“Okay,” Brack said, “so how do we get to him?”

“I’m thinking,” she said.

Mutt said, “You two are worse now than when you was back in Charleston.”

Instead of replying, and because he craved a cigar, Brack pulled out his pack of gum and stuck a piece in his mouth.

Darcy watched Brack chew. “I have got to ask. What’s with the Bubblicious?”

“Opie here realized that maybe all that smoking ain’t too good for him.”

“Huh?” She looked totally amazed.

Brack’s favorite sidekick pulled out his vapor stick and took a few puffs. “Tara give him one of her personal trainer sessions. From what I hear, someone puked his guts out at the end.”

She laughed. “Really?”

“Can we get back to the task at hand?” Brack asked.

Darnel said, “Well, to Brack’s credit he matched my sister set for set for two hours. Most men can’t hang with her for more than thirty minutes before they drop out. One of the other trainers there told me it was the last bit on the stair machine that did him in.”

“But,” Darcy said, “that got you to stop smoking?”

“I’m not going to say that. All I’ll say is that every time I think I want a cigar, I remember my head in that trash can.”

Darcy sat back. “I have to take that gal to lunch.”

“Whatever,” Brack said. “So how do we get to Vito now?”

Darcy looked at her watch. “It’s afternoon and I have today’s deadline to meet. Let’s pick this up tomorrow.”

  

While Brack licked his wounds in his hotel room, his cell phone buzzed. He recognized the number and answered. “Hello, Shana from Gecko Row.”

She said, “I heard Mindy and Kai are dead.”

No “hello” or “how’s it going.” None of her normal flirting. None of his either.

Brack inhaled and exhaled. “Yes.”

A long pause.

He said, “Shana? Are you still there?”

She said, “This started out fun, you know. I liked you and I liked that you were giving Vito and his thugs a hard time.”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t think anyone I knew would actually die.”

He said, “You knew the girls?”

“Only to look at them. But still, no matter what they were doing, hooking or stripping or whatever, they didn’t deserve to die.”

Certainly not just because I wanted to talk to them, Brack thought. He simply said, “I agree.”

She said, “Am I in danger?”

The six-million-dollar question. Brack thought about all the ways he could answer the question. In the end, the truth was the only answer that would protect her. He said, “If Vito finds out you were talking to me, then yes.”

He heard a gasp.

“Shana?” he said again.

“I’m still here,” she said.

“The best thing for you to do is get out of town,” he said. “At least until this blows over. Do you have any place you can go?”

“My mother lives in Florida,” she said. “I’ve been thinking about moving down there and starting over anyway.”

Brack said, “Pack light. Leave as soon as you can. Do you have money?”

“Yes,” she said. “I have enough to get there, anyway.”

“Good.”

Another pause.

“Shana,” he said, “I want to thank you for everything you did for me. You didn’t have to do any of it, but you did. I’m not with the police, but I believe I’m on the right side of this one. No matter what happens, you were trying to do the right thing. Remember that.”

He heard her sniffle through the phone. “I know. I can’t believe I ever got into the situation where I had to work for a man like Vito.”

“You can change that right now,” he said. “And if you ever get to Charleston, look me up.”

“You know, Mr. Pelton, I might just do that.”