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I know Gio’s just trying to calm me down and talk me out of putting a bullet in Vitale’s head, but I won’t rest until I find the fourth man. He’s the only one who can tell me which faction of the Irish mob is coming after me if it’s even them he works for. The way the men looked at each other when I accused them of shifting alliances leads me to believe it’s possible they are defectors. Though for my sake, I hope I’m wrong. The only lead I have is the Irish mob. But if the men who invaded my home have shifted their alliance, without the intel from the fourth man, intel I will strip from his bones if I have to, I’m back to square one.
“Come on, let’s get out of here before the police complicate things,” Gio says.
I brush the sweat from my forehead and wipe my bloody knuckles against my black dress pants. “Things are already complicated.”
13
The moon hangslow above the murky waters of the swamp. Frogs moan and crickets chirp as I stand on the wooden boat dock just outside the abandoned shack the FBI uses as a last resort safe house. Though, tonight, this place is anything but safe. As if sensing what will happen next, a gust of wind rips past me, lifting my long, dark hair and the plaid blanket I have draped over my shoulders. I’m not sure if I should take it as a warning or a nod of encouragement. Regardless, the sound of Ray’s footsteps as he approaches lets me know it’s too late to back out now. This is happening. I just pray I can stomach it.
“He’s waking up,” Ray says, joining me at the end of the dock. “What now?”
I close my eyes and take solace in the sweet sounds of flowing water, knowing that what I say next will start a fight with the only friend I have. But I don’t have a choice. Ray can’t be a part of this, at least not more than he already is. With resolve, I turn to him and—
“Now, you leave.”
Ray chuckles. “You’re joking.” Even in the dim light of the moon, I can see the lightheartedness leave him when he realizes no, I’m, in fact, not joking. “No.No.There is no way in Hell I’m leaving you alone in the middle of the swamp with that psycho,” Ray shouts, pointing back toward the shack. To his point, the place is a death trap even without the trained killer inside of it.
“I’m not asking you toleaveleave. I just…I need to question him in private.” I shrug.
“Why?” Ray crosses his arms in defiance. I exhale, rolling my eyes in frustration.
“Look, I’ve already involved you enough. I hated to even ask. I just needed your muscle and the van.”
Ray nods, doing his best to keep his cool. “Involved me in what, Ariana? Who is he? What the Hell is going on?” Okay, cool lost.
“Ray.” I drop my blanket to the ground and take both his hands in mine. I know I’m not playing fair. Ray cares for me…as more than a friend. Maybe I exploited that a little by asking him to help me with something I know could get him suspended, or worse. But that very reason is why he can’t know that the man inside is Edgar Walsh, the Irish assassin who tried to abduct Sophia Amato six weeks ago. More than that, he’s the man who’s going to get me back in Alister’s good graces, the man whose intel will be too good for Alister to turn me away—again. All of this—Edgar, the Irish mob, Alister—is against Bilieux’s command. And, about fifty percent of the time, it’s against my better judgment. But it’s the only way I’ll ever learn the truth of why my mother was killed.
“I need you to trust me,” I tell him. “I’m going to be fine. He’s restrained. And, if he somehow breaks loose, I have my gun. Not to mention some other toys.”
“Toys?” Ray shakes his head. But his disapproval doesn’t stop him from squeezing my hands and pulling me in for a hug. “Come here,” he whispers as my chest crashes against his. His grip is suffocating, but I give in to him. I know he needs this, and I need him to walk away. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, Ari, but if Bilieux finds out, he’ll fire you. You know that, right?” At that, I pull away from him despite his reluctance to let me go.
“If Bilieux figures out what’s going on with me, then I will gladly let him fire me, because I don’t even know, Ray.” I cross my arms over my chest. “What’s happening now, it’s…complicated.” I turn from Ray back to the water, praying he won’t push the issue any further.
“Okay,” he finally says. “I’ll leave.” He takes a step toward the house, then stops. I turn back to him. “But eventually, you’re going to have to let someone in. Or else, whateverisgoing on, it’ll consume you. It’ll ruin you.”
I nod as another gust of wind swirls between us.Maybe it already has.
Ray gives me one last pleading look before making his way around the cabin to the unmarked van he borrowed from headquarters. I don’t move until I hear the engine crank and moan as he pulls away, leaving me alone in the swamp to do the very thing that haunts me. It’s not that I’m afraid to interrogate Walsh. I’m afraid of what it may take to get the information out of him.
My heart races as I approach the shack. The wooden door creaks as I pull it open. I haven’t even stepped inside, and his eyes are already on me—icy green and cold like death. I bite the inside of my cheek as if it will give me some strength I seem to be lacking. I take a step forward, leaving the door to the outside open so he can get a good look at what waits for him if he doesn’t cooperate. The gators will enjoy a nice midnight snack. That is, unless the snakes poison his blood first.
Walsh watches me as I approach him, dragging his eyes up and down my body until I am only inches from the man who nearly beat me to death when first we met. The way he looks at me lets me know he recognizes me. His lips curl into a sinister smile as he grips the arms of the chair Ray has him strapped to. He’s testing the strength of the ropes, not because he’s afraid of what I’ll do to him, but because he can’t resist the urge to touch me, to hurt me, just like that night. Yeah. I’ve seen this look before. But unlike when I was younger, I now have the upper hand.
There.I’ve finally found the strength I need to rip the truth from his bones. It rests in my past. I nod and offer him a smile before turning and making my way to the kitchen table where a black duffel holds the various devices I’ve collected over the past few months. I take them out one by one, making sure Walsh can see them.
“If you think that’s going to intimidate me, you’re wrong,” he says then.Hmm. Maybe it won’t be as difficult to get him talking as I thought. I lower my knife to the table and turn to face him. “All this because I knocked you around a little. It seems a bit extreme.” At that, I smile. He has no idea why he’s here. I wonder if the truth will steal his smile.
“Well, I wouldn’t call what you didlittlenor do I believe this is extreme punishment.” I take a step toward him. “But this isn’t about what you did to me. It’s about what you tried to do to Sophia Amato.”
At the mention of Sophia’s name, his face goes pale, well, paler than it already was.
“You…you don’t work for the Amatos. If you did, I’d know.”
“And how would you know that?”
Walsh goes quiet, moving his eyes from me to the wall. I nod. I know that look too. Knowing he can’t escape physically he looks for a mental escape. But he won’t find one. I won’t let him.
I return to the kitchen and grab my knife and a chair from beneath the table. Returning to Walsh, I sit down directly across from him, meeting him eye to eye. Well, I would if he’d look at me. But I can fix that. Before Walsh’s peripheral vision even registers my movements, I lean forward and slice a four-inch gash up his forearm. He screams, though not nearly as loud as I hoped, as he writhes against his restraints. Good job, Ray. The ropes haven’t given an inch.
