Deadly Promises (Tracers #2.5)(30)
Nothing had ever scared him the way he feared for CeCe’s life right now.
“Always a first time,” Starface crooned, chuckling. “I’ve got something you want and you have my merchandise.”
Jeremy had one choice. “Where do you want to meet?”
“Be in Buckhead by five, have your phone handy, and don’t screw with me or you’ll get her back in pieces.” The phone line died with a sudden click.
“I’m calling the FBI.” Vinny reached for his cell phone.
“Wait!”
Vinny closed the phone. “I’m listening.”
Jeremy nodded, thankful Vinny understood they were both after the same thing. Getting CeCe back alive. “She’s only in this spot because the FBI used her so I don’t trust them not to put her in further danger.”
“You got an idea?” Vinny’s professional attorney veneer faded away, leaving the hardened eyes of a brother willing to do whatever it took to protect his sister.
That was nothing compared to what Jeremy would do. He nodded. “I’m going to make a swap with Starface for the card.”
Vinny’s eyes narrowed in thought for a moment before his shoulders settled with resignation. “My skills are in the courtroom, not in the field. I don’t want to take any chances with CeCe’s life. I’ll call in backup,” he said, clearly indicating his family in Ontario.
“No time. We have four hours. That’s it. I am trained in the field so we do this my way.” Jeremy waited for an argument.
If he didn’t know better he’d swear the new shift in Vinny’s eyes was respect, and just maybe a little trust. That would be funny if not for the fact that what Jeremy had in mind was going to prove to CeCe he was as much a felon as Starface.
And if that animal touched her, Jeremy would kill Starface with his own hands.
Vinny spoke in his attorney voice again, as if advising a client. “You do realize if the FBI finds out you gave the memory card to Starface, you’ll fry, and I can’t help you.”
“Already figured all of that out. All I need you to do is your part while I do mine.” Jeremy expected Vinny to want to come with him, but her brother would only get in his way.
“Agreed.”
JEREMY TAPPED HIS fingers on the steering wheel. He’d parked his Tahoe half an hour ago at the IHOP restaurant in the triangle made by the Peachtree Street and Roswell Road intersection. Most central spot he could think of in the tony Buckhead area. Five o’clock rush hour through the middle of Atlanta had settled in for the afternoon and nasty weather tripled the road rage factor for the packed interstates.
Rain poured over his windshield and thunder rocked the heavens.
His cell phone rang. He answered, “Sunn.”
“Ready to deal?” Starface chuckled.
“Where?” Jeremy ignored the chuckle. He believed in the old saying that “he who laughs last laughs best.”
Starface gave him directions to a closed nightclub three miles away. Jeremy spun across the intersection at the entrance and cut through side streets. When he reached the nightclub, he drove around to the parking lot in the rear where empty beer cans floated in a low spot filling with water. The jersey jacket he pulled on had been made with fine aircraft cable running along the inside from the top to carry weight without pulling down on the material. He shoved his Walther P99 into the right-hand pocket reinforced with the cable to carry the barrel level without broadcasting the weapon’s position.
Other than that, he always carried a knife in his boot. The habit was a holdover from being a teenager when staying alive counted more than worry over breaking the law.
Jeremy keyed up a text message on his cell phone ready to send to Vinny and slipped the phone carefully into his right front jeans pocket. He threw the keys under the seat and climbed out. Fat raindrops battered his face and lightning speared the dark skies.
Before he reached the back door of the out-of-business nightclub, Jeremy eased his hand into his left jacket pocket shielding a pair of pliers and the photo card. He slipped his right hand in his jeans pocket in a casual pose as if waiting for someone.
The back door opened on its own, as he’d expected.
Jeremy folded his left hand around the handles of the heavy pliers and gently closed the teeth snug, then withdrew his hand with the photo card pinned into view.
“Tell Starface I have the card.” Jeremy waited for a response. They could shoot him, but anyone with half a brain wouldn’t risk the chance that one simple squeeze could ruin the card or that he might not have the real one.
“I told him,” a voice called out. The door yawned all the way open.
Jeremy entered, thankful the weather outside had turned the sky dark so that his eyes could adjust faster. Stale smoke and body odor ghosted through the air as he followed a rangy guy close to his height and build. Starface’s backup was late forties and carried a 9mm Browning with the ease of man who rarely made a move without it.
When they reached the bar area, Jeremy called out, “Where is she?”
Across the dingy room, Starface stepped into view from around the corner. Smiling, he tugged on a rope attached to something out of view.
CeCe appeared at the end of the rope, which was tied around her waist. Sheet-white terrified and stumbling, she stopped next to Starface.
Fury roared through Jeremy but he couldn’t get her out of here if he lost his focus. And he would get her out of here. He only wished he had one minute to tell her that he loved her.