For Cam (Chicago Syndicate Book 4) (30 page)

“I’ll be back later. I have to go to work.” 

“No problem. I’ll stay until you return,” she offers.

“Perfect.” I run out, demanding of Wade, “Where are you?”

“I just passed Security Simplicity. They’re going toward the Chicago River. I have to hurry before they drive up the interstate.”

I’m stomping down the hallway toward the elevator and run into Luca, so I grab his arm and tug him with me. “We have a lead on Medlov.”

Luca spins around and follows me.

“Wade, I’ll call you from my car.” I hang up and press the elevator button impatiently.

“Where are we going?” Luca asks.

“To run Medlov off the road,” I say as the doors glide open.

For two months, my need for vengeance has festered inside me. It’s time I keep my promise and start making people pay for what happened to Cam.

***

I
n my BMW, Luca contacts Wade as I brake at an intersection. It’s nighttime on Christmas Eve, so there’s barely any traffic. Thankfully, it hasn’t really started snowing this winter, so the roads aren’t slippery yet.

“Are you coming from the west or the south?” Luca asks him while I scan the other vehicles lined up at a red light, attempting to spot Wade’s white car or the black Ford Medlov’s in.

“There he is.” I extend my arm to the right side where Wade is the fourth vehicle in line and going straight ahead, so I signal to the left to follow him. 

“Medlov’s in the first car at the light,” Luca says as I step on the gas. “And according to Wade, there are two other black Fords guarding him.”

“Those are not FBI or CIA vehicles. Who the fuck is guarding him? The Secret Service?”

While I veer left, Luca puts Wade on speaker.

“I’m going to block one car, and
Capo
John is targeting the second car, which is escorting Medlov,” Wade explains.

“Okay, I’m two cars behind you,” I reply.

“I see you,” Wade says. “Take the left lane now. John is going to hit Medlov’s car.”

I switch lanes just as I hear a loud crash, tires screeching, and cars honking. 

“Medlov is turning left.” Luca screws a silencer onto his Smith & Wesson as I speed through a red light to catch up with Medlov, who’s traveling away from the Loop. 

With cars skating left and right, I shadow the black Ford with tinted windows. My BMW goes much faster than his vehicle, and as I accelerate, I gain on him, switching lanes and riding parallel to the Ford.

“Hit it,” Luca instructs with a grin before he pushes the button so that the window slides down, letting the cold wind rush inside.

I yank the steering wheel to my right and graze the other car. 

“There are three men in there.” Luca cocks his weapon.

Unexpectedly, the Ford takes a sharp right and turns onto one of the side streets.

“Go get him!” Luca yells. 

I hit the brakes so that the car screeches to a halt, check the rearview mirror, and shift into
reverse
. Placing my hand on Luca’s headrest, I look back over my shoulder and speed backward while avoiding cars that blare their horn persistently. Then I brake, face forward again while jamming the gearshift into
drive
, and with one palm on the wheel, quickly take a right turn and race to the end of the street where the Ford is disappearing around the corner between skyscrapers. 

Luckily, I have a fast car, and within minutes, I’m on the Ford’s tail.

“Hold on,” I say to Luca as I clench my jaw and step on the gas, hitting the rear of the Ford and forcing the vehicle toward the curb.

Luca and I are hurled forward against our seatbelts as the Ford crashes into a dumpster, and we bump to a halt. The smell of burnt rubber permeates the air as smoke drifts around us.

Without thinking, I grab my gun and bolt out of my vehicle. But when the driver of the Ford aims his weapon at me through his window, I slide over the hood of my BMW to the other side, falling onto the ground and ducking as Luca shoots through my front and the Ford’s rear windows, broken glass flying everywhere, and hits the male in the passenger seat in the back of the head. Then I realize that I don’t have my regular gun with the silencer built in and that both ends of the street are open. I see vehicles racing by at one end, but it’s dark. 

Luca, who’s now gotten out of the car, hurriedly pitches a silencer to me, and I catch it in the air and attach it to my piece. Then I nod to Luca, and he aims his gun at the driver’s seat of the Ford while I slither forward alongside the passenger side and rear up to easily kill the driver, who’s ducked down in his seat. Then I turn my head toward Medlov as he’s gliding across to the other side of the back seat, trying to flee.

I open the door, and Luca appears on the other side, causing Medlov to scramble to the middle of the back seat.

My vengeance can be appeased at last. However, at that moment, two cars enter the street, and Luca aims at their tires as they come to a stop and he starts shooting.

“Hello, Medlov. I’ve been looking for you for a long time.” I pull him out of the car forcefully and tug him forward while Luca keeps releasing bullets, but the other cars are standing still and, strangely, no one gets out of either of them.

Medlov finds his footing and struggles against me, so I turn around. “You better move.”

“Fuck you. You’ll never get me out of here.”

I grab his hair, pop open the trunk, and effortlessly throw him inside. “Oh, I will. I will risk everything because,
Ukrainian
, you need to pay.” I jam my gun into the back of his head before I slam the trunk closed and rush back into my BMW.

Luca drops into his seat, and I race out of there, through the quiet streets toward Club 7.

***

W
ade and Luca stand off to the side as I toss Medlov into the cell on the underground floor and he falls onto his knees and palms.

“Did you contain the situation, Wade?” I ask while studying Medlov’s demeanor with interest.

Wade stashes his gun in his charcoal jacket. “Yes, the media isn’t involved. A
Capo
went to the street you took Medlov from and the Ford was already gone – the area had been cleaned as if nothing happened. No Fords, no broken glass. Only tire tracks from several cars.”

“Someone besides us is going to a lot of trouble to get to Medlov without anyone finding out,” Luca deliberates out loud.

“And they clearly saw us,” I add, unease setting in, but having Medlov in my sights makes my necessity for retaliation explode. 

Bending down, I grab my knife from my ankle holster. “What the fuck was your plan with Cam?”

A smirk flits across his face as he rises. “I’ll never tell. Do what you want. The plan is already in motion. You are done.”

“Am I? What about the FBI agent that was found on your estate?” I retort.

His grin fades just as quickly as it appeared.

“Oh, you don’t know. Yeah, no one is protecting you. But everyone wants you because you killed a federal agent,” I bluff, taking one step forward, and he takes one back in reaction.

“You’re lying. Who the fuck do you think those men were? They’ll be here within five minutes to get me,” he counters unconvincingly.

“No, they won’t. No one is stupid enough to come in here except
you
,” I insult.

Apprehension breaks through his cool façade, and as he glances at Luca and Wade, he realizes this is his one chance to escape; he’s not cuffed and the door is open.

“Fight me, asshole,” I hiss, flashing my knife.

As he barrels toward me, I sidestep him and grab his shirt, throwing him against the wall. He recovers quickly but fails to lunge up as I slice my knife along his cheek. 

“I will slit your throat and drink your blood, motherfucker! Get the fuck up,” I bark at him, handing the knife over to Luca.

Medlov simply sneers at me as he plants his palms on the ground, attempting to push up, but I kick his jaw, sending him sprawling backward. Then I hunch down and seize his collar with one hand while jamming my fist into his face. Fury bursts out.

Letting his body collapse to the ground, I kick him ferociously. Bones crack, and he squeals in pain.

“I will not allow you to die. I need you to suffer just like
she
is suffering. Just like
I
am suffering without her because of you!”

All-consuming rage blinds me as Luca pulls me back.

“Adriano,” Luca starts.

“Do not interfere,” I warn Luca and wrench free.

Swiping my hand over my mouth, I swoop low and hurl Medlov onto the bed now that I’ve punched that conceited smirk from his fucking face.

But then he grumbles, “You can’t stop me from talking. There is always a plan B. And...y-you won’t kill me...”

When Medlov attempts to sit up, Luca restrains him by capturing both his wrists at his back.

“You just don’t know when to shut the fuck up.” Calmly, I open the drawer of a dresser to my left and take out an iron tongue tearer, which is an oversized pair of scissors that can cut someone’s tongue.

“See, the problem is that you don’t have a wife I can kill – that would make us even in my opinion. So my only other option is indeed death. Or, a lifelong period of torture, torture, and more torture, which I think is a befitting punishment for you.” I dig my fingers into his cheeks as he protests and shove his mouth open with the device while Luca contains him. “Wade, hold open his fucking mouth.”

Wade rests one knee on the bed and grips his chin, forcing his mouth open.

“You brought me to the brink of insanity, and I went over the edge two months ago. And now, you want to talk to the police, FBI, or CIA and ruin me?” I place the iron scissors around his tongue and tighten the screw until the rough grippers latch on to it.

Medlov’s grey, teary eyes widen so that the whites are entirely visible.

Savagely, I maintain a firm hold on the screw and continue to tighten it on my victim’s tongue. Then I rotate it while gritting my teeth, roughly tearing his tongue out as his piercing howls echo off the walls in an earsplitting tone.

“Jesus Christ,’ Wade mumbles, but I ignore him.

“How are you going to talk without your tongue, Medlov?” I yank his head back by his hair, causing him more pain, and then I throw the device with his tongue on the floor. “Perhaps I should cut off your hands as well?” 

Luca slams one of Medlov’s wrists onto the bed as his horrified face satisfies me. Crimson drips down his chin as he sobs pitifully. 

Luca then takes a knife and smiles cruelly at Medlov. “We warned you not to anger us.” And he slices the blade across Medlov’s wrist, not deep, but enough to leave a burning trail on his skin, which it clearly does, because he spits blood and starts to lose consciousness.

I shake his head forcefully, and his eyes open. “Stay awake. You’re going to feel pain every second for the rest of your life. I’m not going to cut off your hands.” I bend down to his ear. “Because you’ll need them to jerk off men in prison every night. Death is too easy for you. That won’t satisfy me. I want you to live in hell for the rest of your life because I have to live in this hell! You’ll be raped and tortured, but kept alive, after your conviction. And trust me, you
will
get convicted. My power extends to levels you don’t even know about.”

“Adriano, Luca,” Wade interferes. “He’s losing consciousness. If you want him to survive, then we need to tend to his wounds.”

“Fine.” I release his head, and it slouches forward. “Give him antibiotics. Set his bones. But make it painful and keep the fucker alive.” I motion Wade and Luca over to discuss our plan of action. “We need to find out who cleaned up the crime scene. It’s not Chicago P.D. Maybe it’s CIA, Wade?”

“It does look like our ammo, but why does the CIA want him?” Wade reflects. “Only the FBI and Chicago P.D. have been involved in any investigation regarding his empire.”

“Someone’s even more interested in Medlov than we are. Wade, what do you need to find out whom that is?”

“I need Henry. Only a top notch hacker has a chance of breaking into the CIA system. However, if this is some kind of secret mission, there won’t be any documentation. I’m going into the CIA office later; I’ll see if I can pry.”

“Good. I want Medlov tried and sentenced for Santino so that my Italian friends in prison can make his life a living hell. And I don’t want anyone interfering with my plans.”

“We have to figure out what to do with Medlov now before someone comes here searching for him,” Luca tells me. “We need to know who wanted to smuggle him out of the Loop. This reeks of CIA.”

“Get a soldier to patch him up, and I’ll go into the office right now. They wanted to talk to me anyway,” Wade offers.

“Fine,” Luca says. “You can go. Adriano and I will discuss this with James and Carmine as well. Carmine can work his charms with the DA.”

“Okay, I have to clean up. I can’t go back to Cam covered in blood.”

After a hurried shower in one of the private rooms, I head back upstairs and run into Lo in the hallway, which always leaves me bereft. I pass her, and when she smiles at me, it’s as if Cam is looking at me. I shake my head, getting rid of that thought. All I want is to be back with Cam because an unsettling sensation is crawling over my skin.

***

T
hat disconcerting feeling was the result of my bond with Cam; I’m positive of it. I can’t explain it, but we’re still connected, because I haven’t even entered her room when a commotion at the entrance of the hall makes Luca and me swivel around.

A middle-aged gentleman – flanked by two men – in a tailored suit that smells of old family money tries to barge in, but my guard is ordering him to step back.

I tell the guard in front of Cam’s room, “Close the door,” since Fallon and Cam are in there. 

Luca’s already advancing on the man, just as riled as I am that someone dares to bother us at the hospital.

“Who are you? What do you want?” Luca scowls at him. “This is a private room.”

“I’m Senator Bruce Wallace,” he announces as if his name and title should impress us. “I know you have Yakiv Medlov, and I want him back, so you leave me no choice but to track you down here.”