At Peace (The 'Burg #2)(209)

“Name’s Lindy,” Lindy introduced herself.

“Hey Lindy, Benny,” Benny introduced back.

“Nice ta meetcha,” Lindy muttered and Cal heard the sudden tiredness in her tone mixed with a bit of pain she couldn’t quite hide. Adrenalin crash. They needed to keep an eye on her.

Cal twisted in his seat to glance at a pale but hanging in there Lindy as Benny kept talking. “I tailed them from your office back to your house. They were there maybe three minutes before Vi ran from the house and got in the car and then your convoy hit the road. No girls.”

That didn’t mean someone else didn’t have them.

“We had protection,” Cal told Benny as he turned to face forward. “It wasn’t steady but there’s a possibility there are more of Hart’s men because, if Colt had men on us, someone had to take those boys out.”

“Saw a man in a car outside your offices. He didn’t look too good. Boys who took you probably took him out. Nothin’ I could see at Vi’s.”

“They still could have the girls,” Cal muttered then stated, “but that means Vi’s got at least two on her. What do you know about his house?”

Benny’s phone vibrated, he leaned forward and reached to his back pocket as he finished, “Tell you about the house in a second. Right now you need to know that Frankie followed me. When the cars separated, I took you, Crazy Frankie took Vi.”

Cal stared at his cousin’s profile and whispered, “You are shittin’ me.”

“Nope,” he answered and Cal knew even with that one word Benny was pissed and he was worried. Then Benny flipped his phone open and put it to his ear. “Sal, I got ‘im. He’s good. Did Frankie call you?”

Benny listened to Sal for approximately three seconds before he put his foot to the floor, the SUV shot forward, he flipped his phone shut and threw it on the dash.

Then he whispered, “Vi’s at Hart’s house and Hart’s got Frankie too.”

“Sal call the cops?” Cal asked.

“Don’t know, don’t care, didn’t ask, wasn’t gonna wait for an answer.”

Cal studied Benny and saw with clarity that his cousin was now on a mission.

In normal circumstances Cal would question this response considering Benny hated Francesca. All the Bianchis did except Carm, who lived in LA, and Cal, who hadn’t really lived anywhere for seventeen years.

He didn’t question this response however because he was just happy Benny finally got the lead out.

He leaned forward and nabbed Benny’s phone, sat back and dialed the house phone.

Feb answered with a cautious, “Hello?”

“Feb, Cal. You got the girls?”

“Cal,” she whispered, relief so stark in her tone it was a physical thing coming over the airwaves. Then he heard commotion behind her.

“Feb, the girls,” Cal prompted on an impatient growl.

No answer then Colt.

“Cal?”

“Colt, are the f**kin’ girls there?”

“They’re here. Safe. Scared. Though things perked up the minute Feb said your name. Where are you?”

“Chicago. On my way to pick up Vi.”

“She okay?”

“She will be.”

A pause then, “Talk to me.”

“Hart has her at his place. We’re headed there.”

“You know this for certain?”

“Intel from Sal.”

“Sal made a deal with Pryor. This mean Sal told the cops where Vi is?”

“Don’t know, we didn’t ask and don’t got a line to Pryor. They’re there, they’re not, they don’t have her, I’m goin’ in.”

“Cal, let me call Pryor.”

“She’s not out, I’m goin’ in.”

“Cal –”

“Make your calls,” Cal ordered and then shut the phone.

* * * * *

I stared out the window at Daniel Hart’s beautiful lawn and garden. He had a swimming pool that Keira would love.

“Violet,” I heard him say and I turned.

He was walking toward me, smiling and holding a glass of water and what looked like a pale green silk robe was slung over his forearm.

“I brought you aspirin and water for your hangover,” he told me when he made it to me.

“Thanks,” I whispered and took the glass and pills from him.

“A robe,” he offered the green silk to me, “you can get out of that shirt.”

My choice? I would wear Joe’s shirt until it fell off me.

But I didn’t have choices anymore.

Joe was dead and I was here. That was it. That was my life.

Joe was dead and I was here.

Joe was dead.

Joe was dead.

I turned back to the window and looked out.

“Violet,” he called.

“Yes?” I said to the window but he didn’t speak further for long moments.

Then he said, “I can see you need some time.”

Yes, you f**king lunatic! I need some f**king time! My mind screamed.

“That’d be good,” I whispered not looking at him. I knew what he looked like. Brown hair, not light, not dark. Hazel eyes. Fit and slim. Nice trousers, sharp crease pressed in. Khaki. A long-sleeved polo neck shirt. Burgundy. Also nice. Totally f**king crazy.