Chapter 29
Brambles slashed Mackenna’s bare feet as she stumbled out of the building with a barrage of bullets echoing behind her. She hadn’t looked back, didn’t know if Jake had gotten out behind her.
She ran mindlessly. Faster than she thought herself capable. Sulfur from the gunshots burned her nose and her eyes watered, clouding her vision. The intense ringing in her ears encased her head in a vacuum. If someone chased after her, she couldn’t hear them.
Her steps faltered through muddy grass, and shrubs cut her arms and slashed her legs. She raced blindly onward.
Her escape put distance between her and the building, plunging her into the black night. The odors of the waterfront, dirty and pungent, clogged her airways and she covered her mouth and nose with her forearm. Surrounded by darkness she tripped, fell to her knees, and catapulted back up, ignoring the burning pain that shot through her legs. She ran to the right down a back alley, barely suppressing her scream when rats scattered at her intrusion, and turned left onto a cobblestone street cast in shadows by one lone lamppost.
Falling against the side of it, she doubled over then used the pole for support and strained to catch her breath. Her lungs wanted to explode. She swiped snot from her upper lip and looked around for someone, anyone who might help. The street was eerily deserted. What time was it?
She glanced behind her. No Jake. She was on her own. Had to save herself. And Jake. She must find a way to save Jake. Dropping her head back she stared at the starless sky and prayed. “Dear Lord, let Jake be alive. There’s so much I need to tell him.”
The rumble of a car engine jolted her into action and she took off again running, hugging the buildings to stay in the shadows. She couldn’t save Jake singlehandedly. She’d need help.
Agent Crews. It was a costly risk. He was a mean man who wouldn’t believe her story. Hell, she was a fugitive. Likely every police officer in the city hunted for her. But she had to try.
She couldn’t account for the hours spent handcuffed to that bed once she’d used the bathroom. With nothing to do but think, she’d replayed in her mind everything she knew about Jake. He’d been evasive whenever she questioned him, imploring her to trust him, implying that he kept a secret that someday he’d share with her. Who kept their employment secret?
He’d never admitted to being a warehouse guard. “I’m in security,” he’d said, and she’d provided the job description. “Like a guard some place?” she’d asked. “Something like that,” he’d said. The conclusion about his occupation had been hers.
She recalled the grocery store meeting when Vincent first introduced himself. Jake hadn’t wanted them to meet, had shielded her from Vinny and urged her to walk away, trying to protect her. He’d come to her rescue when Mr. Gleaner had plied her with alcohol with the intent of having sex, somehow knowing how to find her. He slipped a handgun in his nightstand. His apartment lacked personal mementos, as if it was temporary.
Jake had been the only one in the room when everyone was summoned for the photo array at the FBI office that hadn’t seemed nervous to be there. She’d thought then that his stance hinted of a military background. Or was it police? He’d encouraged her not to cower in the face of Agent Crews’ implications that they suspected her. “They do that to intimidate you,” he’d said. Did the average person know that?
Finally, there was the discussion about Mr. Gleaner’s sexual exploitation and Jake’s insistence that a report be filed even if he had to do it himself. His language. He’d used the same words the police woman used and when she asked if her friend was a cop, Mackenna answered affirmatively. She knew then that he was.
But he was more than that, wasn’t he?
Snippets of what he said surfaced. “You’re a smart woman . . . think it through.”
Think what through?
“It’s where we find ourselves at the moment, sugar.”
What did that mean? Her timing was bad?
“That implies that I lied to you, honey, and I never have.” Every answer to her questions had been truthful. She only needed to connect the dots to draw the complete picture.
“I’m one of the good guys.” Those words played and replayed in her mind.
Who were the good guys? They were the men who wore the white hats. They were the cavalry. The cops. The FBI.
Despite the cost to her personal safety, she needed to contact Agent Crews. Jake had something to do with the FBI. And he was in trouble.
~ ~ ~
Jake faded in and out of consciousness. Sweat and blood soaked his shirt, causing the soggy garment to cling to him. It pained him to turn his head to see his arm immobile along his side.
A hunk of flesh hung from his shoulder, bringing bile to his throat. He turned away to focus on his leg. The clothes line that had constrained Mackenna was wrapped around his upper thigh so tight it throbbed. Beneath his hip spread a pool of blood. He clenched his teeth, hoping to redirect the pain and clear his head. He lay on his back on a concrete floor. The warehouse. Mackenna.
Despite the sword that pierced his brain he raised his head to search the room. No sign of her. Only the mound of a dead man a few feet from him, the guy’s eyes wide open and staring at him. Where was Mackenna? Did she get away? Bits and pieces of the night resurfaced. She, half-naked, and Vinny leering at her. Was she tied to a bed somewhere? Had Vinny . . .?
From behind him, a man’s voice. “Hey, boss. Looks like he’s awake.”
With his ear on the cement, Jake heard the footsteps reverberate as they neared. He strained to raise his head when four chair legs came into view along with the brown alligator penny loafers Vinny often wore. He straddled the seat backward and leaned toward Jake with an uncapped bottle of water in his hand. The bottle tilted and water dribbled onto Jake’s cheek, some of it rolling toward his ear and a stream flowing to his mouth. He swallowed as much as he could.
“You disappoint me, my brother. I had great plans for us. Together we could’ve taken over my old man’s operation and lived the high life.”
Jake eyed him. His survival counted on maintaining his undercover persona. “I don’t understand what this is all about, Vinny. We can still work as a team. I’m still your friend.”
“You’re a fucking Fed.”
Jake’s heart leapt to his throat. The number one rule of undercover work was never, ever admit the truth. He’d abide by that tenet to his death.
He closed his eyes and dropped his head to the floor. “You’re fucking crazy.”
Vinny snickered. “You think so? You underestimate my old man and his connections. Jake Manfred. Arrested and charged in the public corruption case that went before Judge Truman. True identity Jake Manettia. Real job: infiltrate that City Hall operation and take it down. For the Feds. Your boys should’ve done better research. Judge Truman and my old man go way back. He owes his seat on the bench to the Cabacolli family.”
Jake strived to control his facial expression. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Vinny laughed again. “No? How do you think I knew where you were when you called? How do you think we had your address? I’ve had an eye on you ever since you turned my dinner invitation down for you and Miss McElroy. Most everyone in this city would kill for an invite like that yet you turned your nose up at me. If a door to the Cabacolli family opened, any small-time thief would rush through it looking for the opportunity to get in my good graces or my old man’s. But not you. I got to wondering why. I couldn’t figure it out, though. You were a puzzle. And then Judge Truman called.”
Going on the defensive to argue wouldn’t help. Jake shook his head. “You got it all wrong, Vinny.” Jake closed his eyes and prayed that Mackenna had found help or his colleagues were on their way to his rescue. There was no getting out of this one any other way. But had she figured it out? Did she know about him? Did she care enough to help him or was she long gone?
“Where’s Mackenna?”
Vinny shrugged. “I have to hand it to that little bitch. I have all my team searching for her, and nothing. Make it easy on yourself, Jake. Tell me where she went with all that money.”
Inwardly, his heart soared. She’d gotten away. She was safe. It didn’t matter about him and whether or not she summoned help to save him. Mackenna was safe. He could die in peace knowing that.
“I don’t have a clue, Vinny. I told you she’s nothing to me.”
Vinny turned the bottle upside down and dumped the water over Jake’s face. “You lying sack of shit. I saw the way you looked at her. And she had eyes for you. Be glad she got away, Jake. She’s the only reason I’m keeping you alive. I’m gonna bring her back here and fuck the hell out of her while you watch. And then you’re both going for a swim.”
He rose and kicked the chair to the side. Stomping away he barked his orders. “Don’t let him move so much as a pinkie finger. If he does, fire a bullet into his other leg. And somebody find that girl.”
Relief flooded over Jake. Mackenna had evaded Vinny’s men. They likely numbered close to fifty based on what Vinny had told him about Old Man Cabacolli’s ranks. Damn, Mackenna was smart. But was she smart enough?
~ ~ ~
An all-night convenience mart stood out like a beacon at the end of the street Mackenna limped down. Her feet ached from countless stones she’d stepped on and the muscles in her legs screamed in agony. But she couldn’t stop, not until she found a phone and called the FBI.
She paused a block away from the store to study it as a smile creased her face. Jake would be so proud of her right now. Only one customer, a man leaning casually against the counter in conversation with the female clerk. Was he one of Vincent’s men? She’d no way of knowing. Mackenna waited, wondering how she’d explain her lack of clothing or shoes and her general appearance once she entered the store. She had no choice but to go in there, not knowing where the next opportunity might be and unwilling to prolong Jake’s rescue. She might already be too late.
Dried blood smeared her torso and limbs. Should she run in screaming and ask the clerk to contact the FBI? Or stroll in nonchalantly as if being in public barefoot wearing only underwear was an everyday occurrence and ask in a calm voice to use the phone?
For whatever reason, she smoothed her hair back and straightened her bra. And then she waited.
No telling how long. The customer wasn’t a big man, unlike the men who surrounded Vincent. He didn’t have that tough guy look either. He flirted with the clerk in an easy manner, both of them laughing and the woman dropping her gaze to the counter more often than not. She must be blushing at his words. Mackenna hoped he was simply an ordinary man. She surveyed the intersecting streets. Not one vehicle passed. No one searched for her in this part of town.
Filling her lungs with the cool night air, Mackenna exhaled slowly and advanced on the front door. She had nothing to lose except Jake. And he was everything.
The bell over the door chimed when she walked in and customer and clerk turned in her direction, their mouths gaping open as she approached. The man straightened immediately and moved toward her. “Ma’am, are you all right?”
Mackenna raised her hand to stop him and looked toward the clerk. “Is there a phone I can use?” With her face distorted by her swollen mouth and cheek, her words slurred as if she was drunk.
The clerk shook her head and the man reached in his pocket. “I have my cell phone. Do you want me to call you an ambulance? Were you in an accident?”
“I need to speak to the FBI.”
A nervous laugh escaped him. “The FBI? Who calls them?”
Meanwhile, the clerk reached under the counter. Her bicep muscles tightened and released.
Mackenna smiled, trying to come across as non-threatening despite her appearance. “Did you just press a silent alarm? That’s okay. The police will be better than nothing.” She returned her gaze to the man who seemed approachable. “Even when the police show up, please call the FBI. Ask for Agent Crews. Tell him Jake’s in trouble.”
The wail of sirens sounded outside and in the distance, flashing red and blue lights sped toward the convenience mart. Mackenna watched their approach through the plate-glass windows. The trio stood in silence, waiting. No one moved.
Uniformed officers jumped from their cruisers leaving the doors ajar, guns aimed at the occupants inside the store. “Everyone down on the floor, now!”
Mackenna dropped to the floor. The clerk disappeared behind the counter and the man spread out on his belly, never taking his eyes off her.
“Please,” she whispered as the cops stormed the store, “I’m not crazy. Call the FBI. Jake needs help.”
Bedlam erupted. The clerk jumped to her feet, pointed at Mackenna, and screamed that Mackenna was the armed and dangerous bank robber broadcast on TV.
Really? Armed? Wearing only underwear, she could hardly be concealing a weapon.
The male customer eased into a sitting position once one of the police officers searched him and sat studying her, his cell phone still gripped in his hand.
Two strong hands grasped Mackenna by the back of her arms and two men lifted her slowly so that she sat on her haunches, each cautioning the other that she might be hurt. They talked as if she wasn’t right there between them.
“Geez, where’s all the blood coming from?”
“Where are her clothes?”
“Damn, it is her.”
“Ma’am, can you speak? What’s your name? How’d you get here?”
More police filled the store, guns drawn, searching every aisle and running through every door. The clerk continued to stare at her. The customer on the floor held his phone up. Was he recording this?
One officer began to question the clerk while another one directed the customer to stand and produce identification, all while two other patrolmen kept their weapons at shoulder level and panned the store.
“My name is Mackenna McElroy. I want to speak to Agent Demond Crews of the FBI.”
“Can you stand?” one of the officers asked as they helped her to her feet, and she repeated her request.
“Ma’am, can you walk? Let’s get you into the patrol car. There’s a blanket we can cover you with.”
Even if she wasn’t willing to move, the men forced her forward and she stepped outside the store. Someone yanked open the rear door and she slid into the back seat. When the trunk of the vehicle slammed shut, she jumped and then a female officer leaned inside and tucked the blanket around her.
“Please call the FBI,” Mackenna said. “Ask for Agent Crews and tell him Jake needs help.”
The woman stared at Mackenna, her face so close Mackenna could smell coffee on her breath. “Who’s Jake? Your partner?”
Sheer exhaustion overwhelmed her and Mackenna’s head lolled onto the headrest. Oh, sweet Jesus, why didn’t they listen to her? There wasn’t time to waste. He could already be dead. “No, no.” Her head rolled back and forth. “He’s not my partner. He’s one of them.”
“One of who, ma’am?”
“The FBI. I think he’s FBI. And they’re going to kill him.”