Kristen Ashley - At Peace

“Cal’s woman’s daughters. They safe?” Vinnie explained.

“Haven’t heard anything about them,” the man answered.

“Find out and tell the cops to go fuck themselves,” Sal ordered and the man looked at his boss.

“They want a meet. They want cooperation. Feds are in town and they got news for you. They say they think this meet could be mutually beneficial,” the soldier said to Sal.

This was news, such news it was shocking. The Chicago PD and Feds sitting down with family to make mutually beneficial deals? In this mess, that was a ray of light. Theresa, if she knew about it, which she fucking didn’t, would call it a miracle.

Vinnie forced himself to sit down and he forced his voice to a whisper when he demanded, “Take the meet.”

Sal didn’t take his eyes from his boy and his face betrayed nothing.

“Sal, take the fuckin’ meet,” Vinnie kept whispering, “this is about Cal.”

“Tell them we meet here,” Sal ordered his man.

* * *

“Tina reports she saw Vi get into a black Cadillac sometime after eight o’clock. She said Vi was wearin’ nothing but a t-shirt. No shoes. She just ran out of the house, caddy was on the street, the door was thrown open, she got in and the car took off,” Eric told Colt and Colt studiously kept his eyes from going to Tina’s house. If they went to Tina’s house, he might feel the need to walk over there and shake her until her fucking teeth rattled.

“That bitch knows Vi has a situation, fuck, the whole town knows, and Vi’s jumpin’ into cars wearin’ nothin’ but a tee and she didn’t say shit until I knocked on her goddamned door over an hour after Vi was taken,” Eric continued, his voice vibrating and Colt knew Eric had similar thoughts in his head about Tina.

Colt bit his lip then he asked, “She see Cal?”

“Nope, but she reports a black truck was behind the caddy.”

“Cal’s truck is in his office lot,” Colt informed Eric.

“She says it wasn’t his truck. An SUV. Escalade.”

“She get plates?”

“Said she wasn’t payin’ that much attention.”

Colt knew that was a lie. She was paying attention just not to the license plates.

“Highway Patrol been notified?” Colt asked.

“Yeah,” Eric replied.

“What about Lindy?”

“She’s not home. Her man says she works seven to four.”

“She was at the office,” Colt whispered.

“She was at the office,” Eric repeated.

“Pryor says Hart’s MO is not to mess around. Go for the kill,” Colt noted.

“He may have done him in the SUV but he didn’t do him at the offices. Blood’s from the boys Cal took out,” Eric remarked.

Colt called it down. “Been to Cal’s offices. Lindy sits out front. Cal has an office in the back, doesn’t use it much, but he’s got it. They went in, Cal put up a fight but they got to her and somehow managed to use Lindy as leverage. This meant they’ve probably got Lindy and Cal. They got his phone, called Vi from it while sittin’ in front of her house. She knew, the call comin’ from his phone, bad shit had gone down and she didn’t think, husband dead, brother dead, she just acted and she did it hungover and fast, doin’ exactly what she was told.”

Eric rocked back on his heels and said quietly, “Yep, reckon so.”

Colt looked over his shoulder at Vi’s house. Feb was in there and now so was Cheryl. He looked to the street, saw Jessie’s car pull up to the curb in front of Vi’s house. Then he looked down the street to see Josie Judd’s Jeep heading toward the house.

“Let’s hope he goes off script,” Colt muttered as Jessie exited her car, threw the door too and half-walked, half-ran to the house.

“I’m already hopin’,” Eric muttered back.

* * *

“God dammit,” Benny muttered when the cars he was following separated. The black caddy Benny knew was carrying Violet went one way. The black SUV Benny guessed was carrying Cal went the opposite way.

Benny made a decision and followed Cal. If his cousin was still alive, they got him to where they wanted him to be, he wouldn’t stay that way much longer. Violet had a better chance.

Benny made the turn and his eyes went to his rearview mirror.

Frankie was shit at a tail. He’d clocked her outside Chicago when he’d left at four that morning.

Benny had made the decision to drive down to Cal’s ‘burg when repeated calls went unanswered. He had no choice. It was a hell of a drive but Cal needed to be warned.

Frankie had been following at his high speed for the last seven fucking hours, all the way down through Indiana and, once there, seeing what he saw, then all the way back up. He had to spend half of his time keeping himself invisible and half of his time making sure she was the same way.

He watched her leave him and follow the caddy.

“Fuck!” he exploded, tagged his phone on the seat beside him, scrolled down to her number which he’d meant to erase about seven dozen times in the last seven years but he’d not only not done it, he’d programmed her new numbers in the three times she got them.

He was okay with her on his ass and he left her to it. She went it alone, that he was not okay with.

He hit go and she answered, “Hello?”

“Stand down, Frankie,” he growled.

“He’s got the woman. You’re on Cal, I’m on her,” she said, her voice calm.

Jesus, he forgot this about her. Francesca was a fuckin’ nut. Nothing scared her, not before life got scary. Attitude mixed with idiot fearlessness and a whole lot of not knowing what the hell she’s doing. Not a good combination. Christ.

“Stand… the fuck… down,” he repeated.

“Benny, I won’t do anything. I’ll call Sal, he’ll send –”

He cut her off. “You get the location, you call Sal, you get the fuck outta there.”

“I’ll just stay, keep an eye out,” she replied.

“You’ll get the fuck outta there,” he was again fucking repeating himself.

“I’ll hang tight and they won’t see me,” she said.

“Woman, you have no idea what you’re doin’. I know you’ve been on my ass since the turnpike.”

She was quiet then she said, “Oh well,” then she stopped speaking.

“Oh well?” Benny asked, wondering if it was possible for his head actually to explode and thinking if it was he was close.

“Ben –”

“They’re stupid enough to let you know their location, you feed it to Sal and you get the fuck outta there.”

“Ben –”

“I got things on my mind, babe, and I don’t need you bein’ one of them.”

She was quiet again then she said, “He’s not gettin’ another one of us.”

Fuck. Now he knew where her head was at. This was about Vinnie. This was about Cal. This was about Frankie being family even though that family turned their back on her.

“Frankie –”

“He’s taken enough from us.”

Benny’s voice went soft. “Francesca, honey –”

“You don’t do anything stupid. You call backup too.”

“Babe –” he said to no one. She’d disconnected.

Fucking hell.

He scrolled down to Sal’s number in his phone and he hit go.

* * *

“You think you mighta wanted to tell me this shit when you saw the woman climb into that car?” Sal asked Benny who was on his phone.

“You made this mess. Do you think I was fired up to call you in to clean it up?” Benny asked back.

Fuck, but only Benito Bianchi would speak to him that way. Even Cal had respect. Benny played the game before his brother bought it, since then he didn’t give a fuck.

The fucking Bianchis. Always a pain in his fucking ass.

“I was in Indiana, Sal, what were you gonna do?” Benny went on.

“Get fuckin’ organized,” Sal snapped into the phone then ordered, “stand down.”

“He’s been in there the length of this call and they’ve also got some girl. Blood on both of them, Sal, she didn’t look too good. I’m goin’ in,” Benny told him.

“The cops and Feds just left my house. They want this. Bad. Let me call them so they can get boys on it,” Sal demanded.

“They need to hurry. I’m goin’ in,” Benny returned.

“Benny,” Sal said to a dead phone.

He flipped it shut and had trouble catching Vinnie’s eyes. He didn’t need to look at his cousin to know that he was barely keeping his cool and his seat.

He was saved having to say anything when his phone rang and he saw on the display it was Frankie.

He flipped it open. “Amata, now’s not the time.”

“Cal’s woman is at Hart’s house,” she informed him and Sal went still.

“How do you know that?” Sal asked.

“Because I’m –”

She didn’t finish. Instead she let out a small scream and the line went dead.

Cal watched the goon toss Lindy aside, she hit the floor and went skidding, leaving a trail of blood.

He stood, silent and still, his eyes moving from Lindy to lock on both the boys who had them. They were in good shape, lean and fit. Neither as big as Cal nor nearly as tall and one was so lean he was almost slight. Could mean he was wily, could mean Cal had lucked out.

His hands were behind his back in plastic restraints that they put on too fucking tight and they’d done it because they were pissed after the gunfight and pissed he’d taken down two of their boys but they were clearly following orders so they hadn’t taken him out with a bullet to the brain at the scene. During the ride the restraints had dug in deep, rubbed raw, breaking the skin.

He had bullet grazes to his right hip and just below his left shoulder. They both had bled a lot but the bleeding had stopped and the nagging pain was easy to ignore.

This was because his mind was focused on three things. He needed to get out of this alive. He needed to get Lindy out of this alive. And he needed to find Vi and take her home to her girls.

How he was going to do all of that weaponless and with his hands tied behind his back, he had no fucking clue.

Why he was still alive, again, he had no fucking clue. The only thing he could figure was that Hart wanted to play with him.

Not good.

“On your knees,” one of them ordered, Cal stared at him and didn’t speak nor did he move. “Knees!” the man shouted, his eyes narrowing, jaw tight, lips puckering, giving it away.

He had the gun and Cal was in restraints but Cal intimidated him. He wasn’t wily. He’d survived a gunfight where Cal took down two of his comrades. He was pissed and he was scared. He knew Cal wasn’t going to make it easy and he wanted to get this done.

Cal’s eyes went to Lindy. They’d shot her in the thigh which was the reason they both were there.

No, that wasn’t the reason they were there. He’d shot two men dead, clearing a path for her to get away and he’d ordered her out the backdoor while he was providing cover.

She instead went to the safe, grabbed a gun and tried to join the fight, not about to leave Cal behind with four armed men in the office, all of them firing, two men already down and Cal having suffered two graze wounds that looked a lot worse than they really were, though she didn’t know that.

Then they got her before they got Cal and put a bullet in her thigh then lifted the gun to her temple.

Then they got Cal.

The woman was a glorified receptionist and a bookkeeper but she was also the daughter of a decorated marine who had three sons, one daughter. It was made clear that day that Lindy’s Dad didn’t sexually discriminate when it came to life lessons.

Semper fuckin’ fi.

After he assured she was going to leave this building breathing, he paid the co-pay for her on her hospital visit and he knew she’d walk again, he was going to fire her ass.

“Knees!” the man shouted again, he came at Cal and it was now or fucking never. If he got to his knees, he’d get a bullet to the brain.

He hoped to God that Lindy was conscious because someone was going to have to find a way to cut the restraints off after he somehow took them both down with his hands tied behind his back.

The man got close and Cal was fucking thrilled beyond belief that he did it stupidly, moving in front of the other one. Cal let him get close and at the last minute he dipped a shoulder and hauled ass. He took the man in the gut with his shoulder, the man let out a surprised, winded, “oof,” and went back into the other one. When they hit the second man Cal kept right on moving. Both men hit the wall, Cal pulled back then moved again, catching the one in front with a sharp knee to the balls.