Up to Me(48)
“What?”
“That’s him,” he says quietly, almost too quietly, like he’s in shock or something. I just don’t know why.
“That’s who?”
“That’s the bastard that killed Mom. He’s the one on the video.” There’s about ten seconds of absolute silence while everyone digests what Nash said. He’s the first to recover, of course. Taking us all by surprise, Nash lets out an animalistic growl and lunges forward. “You mother fu—”
With my reflexes still under the influence of an ass ton of adrenaline, I’m able to reach out and stop him before he can get to Duffy. “Nash no! They’ve got Olivia.” I feel the muscles of his shoulder flex as he strains against me. When he looks at me, his eyes are blank. It’s like he’s so furious he doesn’t quite understand what I’m saying. That or he just doesn’t care. I give him a shake to snap him out of it. “They’ve got Olivia, man. Be smart.”
His look assures me that “smart” to me is much different than what “smart” is to him. He’s got no stake in this, only his hunger for revenge. That’s all he wants. And I’m standing in the way of that. But I’ll be damned if I risk Olivia just to satisfy his needs. There will be time for that later, when we can think and plot and be prepared. Today is not that day. Today is only about making sure Olivia is safe. Nothing else. Nothing else matters as much. Not by a long shot.
I look to the Russian. “Still think we don’t have a video?” If there was no video, Nash wouldn’t have recognized the trigger man.
I can tell by the return of the tick in big Russian’s jaw that he doesn’t like something. And I know exactly what it is. He’s stuck. He knows there’s no way he’s leaving here with everything and he knows he can’t kill us and take it. So he has to bargain. Even though he says he doesn’t bargain.
“You’re not leaving here until I get the books. The real books.”
I hate to give up the books, but the only reason Nash is here is so that I could give up the books without being up shit creek. And if this is the bone I have to throw these dogs to get them off my back so I can get to Olivia, so be it.
“Fine. Take the books. A good faith offering.” I turn and nod to Nash. His lips thin and I can tell he doesn’t want to give them a damn thing but a bullet between the eyes. I can almost hear Nash’s teeth grinding. He looks livid. But he doesn’t argue. Thank God. At least he didn’t come back a total bastard. At least he can be considerate of the lives at stake here.
Never taking his eyes off the other two men, Nash reaches into the compartment behind the seat on the bike and pulls out the real ledgers. With an eff-you flip of the wrist, he flings the books onto the ground about a foot in front of the big Russian.
Still oozing blood from his nose and mouth, the Russian says one short, clipped foreign word to Duffy, who immediately moves to get the ledgers. He hands them over and the big guy flips through them, verifying they’re actually full of writing.
He opens each book and checks the front page, I assume for dates. When he gets to the third one, he turns to the middle of the book then forward a few pages, scanning the rows of numbers for something. My guess is it’s how he’s authenticating that they’re the books, not just any books or clever reproductions. This is exactly why I knew better than to try to deceive them. Mafia doesn’t get to the level of criminal activity it gets to without having some brains.
When he seems satisfied, he looks up at me and sneers. “Take the girl in the car, but know that you’ve made enemies, enemies you don’t want to make. This is not over.”
With that, he nods to Duffy and the two turn and walk away, not the least bit concerned with turning their backs on us. I’m sure they know that we know that it would be suicide to do anything to them at this point, although I doubt Nash sees it that way.
When they’re back in the van, I turn to Nash. “Take Marissa. I’m going to get Olivia.”
“Bullshit! You’re not leaving me with—”
“I don’t have time for this right now. Get off my bike before I throw you off.” One eyebrow shoots up like he might consider pushing me just for the hell of it, but then he sighs and gets off the bike. “Keep your phone on. Marissa will tell you where to take her.” I sling gravel all over the place as I peel out and gun it. Once I get to a more populated street, I pull over and call Gavin.
“Where the hell are you?” he asks without preamble.
“I’m on my way. Give me directions.” Gavin gives me the route he took to get to the house and describes which one it is. “Do you know how many people there are inside?”