Chapter 6 - SAINT CHOSE THE TRAITOR
Nobody trusted anybody after that.
Marco moved Josie and Saint to a smaller property near Lake Michigan that only Carlo and two longtime security men knew existed.
He changed vehicles twice.
No phones.
No normal communication.
Josie didn't argue.
Ruthie had been taken because of her.
Guilt erased most of her resistance.
At the safe house, she sat beside a window staring at a burner phone.
“They said tomorrow night,” she whispered.
Marco stood across the room.
“We have time.”
“What if they hurt her before then?”
“They want the card.”
“You don't know that.”
“Yes, I do.”
“How?”
“Because if Ruthie was only revenge, they wouldn't arrange a trade.”
Josie hated how calm he sounded.
“She's sixty-three.”
“I know.”
“She has arthritis.”
“I know.”
“She acts tough, but she gets dizzy if she misses her blood-pressure medicine.”
Marco nodded.
“We'll get her back.”
Josie looked at him.
“You can't promise that.”
“No.”
His honesty hurt more than reassurance would have.
Marco sat across from her.
“But I can promise I won't treat her life as expendable.”
Josie's eyes filled.
She looked away.
“Thank you.”
It was the first time she had thanked him.
Marco said nothing.
Saint raised his head from the rug.
His recovery was faster than Dr. Levin expected.
He still moved carefully, but his eyes were brighter.
A low sound came from his chest.
Marco looked toward the front entrance.
Saint stood.
“Easy.”
The dog's hackles rose.
Someone had arrived.
Marco's hand moved beneath his jacket.
The door opened.
Carlo entered.
Saint relaxed.
Behind him came another man.
Tall.
Silver hair.
Expensive coat.
Saint exploded.
The dog lunged so violently that Josie grabbed his harness.
“Saint!”
The visitor jumped backward.
“What the hell?”
Saint barked.
Not the weak warning from the alley.
This was fury.
Marco's expression changed.
“Saint. Down.”
The dog ignored him.
He strained toward the silver-haired man.
Carlo drew his weapon.
The visitor raised both hands.
“Marco, what is this?”
Marco stared at him.
“Victor.”
Victor Lang had worked beside Marco for fourteen years.
He had attended Marco's father's funeral.
He had spent Christmas dinners at Marco's home.
He had once taken a bullet during an attempted robbery at one of Marco's restaurants.
Saint had known him since puppyhood.
And Saint wanted to tear through the room to reach him.
“Why is he reacting like that?” Victor demanded.
Marco stepped closer.
“Good question.”
“Maybe because somebody nearly killed him.”
“Saint knows you.”
“So?”
“He has never reacted to you this way.”
Victor laughed nervously.
“He was poisoned. He isn't himself.”
Saint barked again.
Josie studied Victor.
Something familiar.
A smell.
She couldn't place it.
Victor took one step toward Marco.
Saint snapped.
Victor backed away.
And Josie knew.
“Your cologne.”
Everybody looked at her.
“What?” Victor asked.
Josie closed her eyes.
The alley.
Saint trembling.
The two men approaching.
Beneath rain and garbage and blood, there had been another smell.
Sharp.
Woody.
Expensive.
“I smelled it on the man with the syringe.”
Victor's face changed.
Barely.
But enough.
Marco saw it.
“You're sure?”
Josie nodded.
“The same scent.”
Victor scoffed.
“Half the city wears this.”
“What's it called?” Marco asked.
Victor looked at him.
“Marco.”
“What is it called?”
“Custom blend.”
Silence.
Carlo raised his weapon higher.
Victor's eyes sharpened.
“You're going to trust a waitress you met yesterday over me?”
Marco's face became unreadable.
“I'm going to trust my dog.”
Victor looked toward Saint.
Something ugly crossed his face.
“There it is.”
Marco's hand tightened.
“What?”
“The damn dog.”
Victor laughed.
“Daniel did the same thing. Trusted that animal more than people.”
Carlo moved.
Victor pulled a pistol.
Everything happened at once.
Josie dropped behind the sofa.
A shot cracked.
Saint lunged.
Marco slammed Victor's wrist against the wall.
The gun fell.
Carlo kicked it away.
Victor drove his shoulder into Marco and broke free.
Saint caught the sleeve of his coat.
Victor screamed.
“Get him off!”
Marco grabbed Saint's harness.
“Release!”
The dog released instantly.
Victor fell.
Carlo pinned him.
Marco stood over the man who had eaten at his table for fourteen years.
“Where's Ruthie?”
Victor smiled through the pain.
“You think I'm going to tell you?”
Marco crouched.
“Yes.”
Victor laughed.
“You've gotten soft.”
Marco said nothing.
“You used to understand how this works.”
Victor looked at Josie.
“Now one starving girl throws herself over a dog and suddenly you're saving waitresses.”
Josie's face hardened.
Marco's voice remained calm.
“Where is she?”
Victor's smile disappeared.
“You don't know what Daniel found.”
“The card.”
“That's a fraction of it.”
“What else?”
Victor looked toward Josie.
“Her mother.”
Josie stepped forward.
“What about my mother?”
Victor's smile returned.
“You really don't know.”
Marco stood between them.
“Answer her.”
“Megan Brennan wasn't some innocent secretary.”
Josie's pulse raced.
“She discovered your father's laundering operation.”
Marco froze.
Victor continued.
“Twenty-three years ago, your father was using city contracts to wash money for half the criminal organizations in Chicago.”
Marco stared at him.
“My father is dead.”
“Yes.”
“And you're blaming him because it's convenient.”
Victor shook his head.
“Daniel had the original ledgers. Megan copied them.”
Josie whispered, “Why?”
“Because she wanted out.”
“Out of what?”
“She had been helping with accounts without understanding what they were. When she figured it out, she threatened to go federal.”
Josie felt sick.
“What happened to her?”
Victor said nothing.
“WHAT HAPPENED TO HER?”
Marco turned sharply.
“Josie.”
She moved around him.
Victor watched her.
“You want the truth?”
“Yes.”
“Your mother tried to trade the evidence for protection.”
Josie stopped.
“Someone intercepted her.”
“Who?”
Victor smiled.
“I'll tell you when you give me the card.”
Marco grabbed him by the collar.
“Where is Ruthie?”
Victor's eyes met his.
“You're already too late.”
Josie made a broken sound.
Marco slammed Victor against the wall.
“Where?”
Victor laughed.
“The old print warehouse on Halsted.”
Carlo looked up.
“417.”
Marco released him.
“Move.”
They were in the vehicles within three minutes.
Victor remained handcuffed in the safe house with two guards.
Josie sat beside Marco.
Saint lay between them.
“We should leave him.”
Marco looked down.
“No.”
“He's injured.”
“He's also the reason we found Victor.”
Josie touched Saint's head.
The warehouse appeared twenty-five minutes later.
Abandoned.
Windows boarded.
No vehicles.
Marco's team surrounded it.
Josie started forward.
He caught her wrist.
She flinched.
He released instantly.
“Stay behind me.”
“Ruthie's inside.”
“I know.”
They entered through a side door.
Empty rooms.
Dust.
Old machinery.
Then Saint stopped.
His nose lifted.
He turned toward a staircase.
Josie's heart hammered.
“Saint?”
The dog pulled.
They followed.
Second floor.
A locked office.
Marco kicked the door open.
Ruthie sat tied to a chair.
Alive.
Josie ran.
“Ruthie!”
Ruthie lifted her head.
“About damn time.”
Josie burst into tears.
She cut the ropes with a pocketknife.
“Are you hurt?”
“My dignity.”
“Ruthie.”
“And somebody stole my shoes.”
Josie laughed through tears and hugged her.
This time she didn't flinch from affection.
Marco watched them.
Then Saint growled.
Not toward the hallway.
Toward the ceiling.
Marco looked up.
A red light blinked.
“Bomb!”
Everyone moved.
Carlo grabbed Ruthie.
Marco pulled Josie toward the stairwell.
They reached the ground floor when an explosion tore through the second story.
The blast threw Marco and Josie against the concrete.
Smoke swallowed the warehouse.
Saint disappeared from view.
Josie screamed his name.
“SAINT!”
No answer.
Then another sound came from the burning hallway.
A dog's bark.
And behind it—
A man's voice.
Victor's voice.
Josie stared at Marco.
“That isn't possible.”
Marco's expression went cold.
They had left Victor handcuffed miles away.
May you like
Which meant only one thing.
The man they'd caught at the safe house wasn't the only traitor.
