The Gambler(13)

 

"Well your shield works."

"What? The fuck does that mean?"

"The house just took a hit, Bonata just signed his death warrant."

"Stefan … "

"Save it, it's done. Tonight, if I have to crawl into his mother to get  him he's a dead fuck." He was so pissed he forgot not to cuss in front  of her.

"Well, you're breathing fire so I guess you're alright. I'll get the guys together, you know where he is, which house?"

"Not yet but I'll get on it. Doesn't he usually run to his hideaway on Shelter Island after a strike?"

"That's his usual MO yes, but I think too many people might be wise to that by now."

"We'll see, these gangster types aren't always the smartest tools in the shed. Talk to ya later old man I've got shit to do."

"Don't move without me."

"We'll see." He hung up the phone and booted up the computer. He didn't  hear the tinny sound of the cartoon playing on her little toy, so he  figured she was preoccupied with one of the one hundred games he'd  downloaded for her.





She didn't seem to be even minutely affected by the explosion and near  death experience, from just a few minutes ago, and once again he  wondered at such complete innocence. God has a strange sense of humor.  He snuck in a few of his special elite amongst mankind, only mankind has  such gigantic egos they think they're the ones a step above. He knows  and is convinced, that nothing could be farther from the truth. To be as  innocent and free of the usual rigors of life must be one hell of a  thing.

He put in a few calls to see if he could pinpoint where the head of the  Bonata family was hiding out. He wasn't one to waste time with middlemen  and muscle. Somebody put a hit out on him; he went right to the source.  Otherwise it's like being attacked by a snake and cutting off its tail.  Doesn't the shit grow back or some fuck? Same thing goes with a hit.  You can end all the muscle that comes after you, but the one who really  wants you gone is still breathing. As long as that's the case your life  will always be in danger.

The fact that they keep attacking with her there, meant that he was  going to get up close and personal. He'd only been planning to blow the  fucker away, with maybe a handheld rocket, or some other high-powered  weapon that would get the job done, take out a few assholes at once.  Now, because the fuck showed no respect and was willing to endanger his  woman in the process, he'd crossed a lot of fucking lines. For that, he  needed a Colombian or a Russian, best way to send a message to whatever  fuck took the asshole's place, that Stefano Andros was not to be fucked  with.





She was being so quiet he kissed her hair in thanks. For once she wasn't  peppering him with questions. Not that he minded, but right now he  needed to concentrate on what he was doing. These idiots will be  expecting him to retaliate, so the element of surprise was out. What  they may not expect is a full frontal attack, which is something he  specialized in. But first, he had to get eyes on Bonata. Her brother,  he'd deal with later, the fucking worm.

She turned the screen of her iPad or what the fuck ever the sales lady  had called it, for him to see. Too many fucking gadgets and shit, that's  how people were getting tripped up and landing their ass in jail. Why  the fuck would you want a record of your criminal activity, or some  fucking toy that could pinpoint your every move? Shit just didn't make  sense. He was prepared to play whatever game she was showing him, as  long as it would keep her happy, even though he had shit to do.

"What's this baby?" He frowned at the screen that seemed to be a jumble  of numbers at first. Then something about a few of them caught his  attention. The first four digits were uniform, kind of like the visa and  master-card thing, how they all started the same. Only these numbers  looked familiar for a whole other reason.

He typed them into his secure handheld just the same as when he's typing  in his own numbers that start with those four digits. "Fuck baby where  did you get this?"

"Jenna good?"





"Oh fuck baby." He grabbed her so hard and held on so tight, it was a  wonder he didn't crack a rib. If he were a crying man he would've broken  down at that point, because what she had just revealed answered the  question that had been plaguing him.         

     



 

It wasn't him they were trying to kill, it was her. She'd just given him  the account and security numbers for the crime family's offshore  accounts, along with the passcodes. There were other numbers on the  screen that he'd have to figure out what they went to but …

"Fuck baby, what did they do to you?" He had no doubt that they'd been  using her for something, there was no other way that she could've had  access to that info. But why try to kill her? It didn't make sense. Why  not just move the money? He added a couple more of the numbers she had  on the screen into the search engine. At first glance he had no idea  what the fuck he was looking at, and then he saw the seal …

His blood ran cold and his first thought was to grab her and get the  fuck gone. What the fuck had they been doing with her? Did her family  know, her mother? He had no doubt her fuck of a brother probably knew  about the Bonatas using her like this. First things first, he had to  move the money. He wasn't sure why the assholes hadn't already, or at  the very least changed the codes, but he wasn't going to question it.





It wasn't that easy moving that much cash all at once. He spent the next  thirty minutes orchestrating it, while she went back to playing her  games. Like she hadn't just given him the codes to get into the fucking  DHS database along with everything else.

He knew she could have no idea what she'd been doing, the question is  why the fuck was Bonata messing around with that shit? He got an idea as  his mind tried to make sense of it all. There was no way she should  know these things. There had to be something that he was missing.  Getting up from under her, he sat her back in the seat. She was so  preoccupied with her game she didn't fuss. Though she did pick up her  head long enough to make sure he wasn't leaving the room.

He walked to the safe on the wall and with his back turned, put in the  combination. Without making a big deal out of what he was doing, he  closed the safe and walked back to the chair, lifting her back into his  lap. She was concentrating very hard on something, her eyes no longer on  her toy but off in the distance somewhere.

Then she got up from his lap and retraced his steps. He held his breath  when she started turning the dial on the safe. Part of him wanted her to  succeed, and another wanted her to fail. It hurt his gut that the low  life fucks, if what he was thinking was true, had used her so  abhorrently.

He wasn't too surprised when the door flew open. "Garrett." He yelled for the other man, never once taking his eyes from her.

Garrett came on the run. His boss sure was doing a lot of yelling these  days. Usually you couldn't get a peep out of him, but since he'd brought  the girl home, he was a regular chatterbox. He wasn't complaining  though, it was a nice change from the predatory look the other man  always wore, that left you wondering from one minute to the next if he  was gonna cap your ass. He much preferred this more affable, relaxed  Andros; it made his job easier. It wasn't easy protecting unsuspecting  fools from the man's volatile temper.





"Boss?"

"Grab the mother."

"Huh?"

"I didn't stutter, send Vito, I don't care what he has to do." Garrett turned to go carry out his orders.

"Garrett, tell him I need her alive. He can nix everyone else if he has  to." He kissed his flower's hair as his mind raced with the  ramifications of what he'd just seen.

When had she been at the DHS to learn the combinations? The bank info  was easy; obviously she'd memorized them somehow, but what about the  ones that didn't belong to the Bonata family? And there were still the  other codes and shit that she'd written down.

He picked up his handheld where he'd transferred the info from her toy.  The unrecognizable numbers didn't ring any bells. It was a long shot,  but he figured she was the one who wrote it, and he knew better than  most not to underestimate her. His sister had amazed him everyday of her  life, he expected no less from his Jenna.

"Jenna, baby, what's this?"

He wrote out the numbers and letters that looked more like some sort of  code than an account, on a piece of paper on his desk. She studied it  for a second before taking the pen from his hand.         

     



 

He watched as she rearranged the digits in her painstakingly slow, yet  meticulous way. Still he didn't know what the fuck he was looking at.  Then she turned to his computer keyboard and typed something in. On the  screen a stately looking woman came up, the caption said Senator  Cathleen Winthrop.

The name didn't ring a bell and he was none the wiser. He printed out a  copy of the senator and studied it. Then she took the printout from his  hand and drew something dead center and he finally got it. "Who Jenna?"  His heart was racing in his chest as he awaited her answer.