Full Tilt (Rock Star Chronicles) (32 page)

“Me? You’re nuts. You and the old man are the selfish ones. You’ve
never
had time for us. You’re always off doin’ your own thing.”

“That is a lie, Wesley Lester! We’ve worked our tails off to provide for you—”

“I’m not talkin’ about what you’ve provided for us!”

Karen’s heart was pounding. She took a deep breath and tiptoed into the conversation. “Why don’t you try to explain what you mean, Wesley, so your mom can understand—”

“Stay out of this!” Sheila snarled. “You don’t have any idea what goes on in families.”

“That’s not true.” He turned to his mom. “You dis Karen, but I’ve felt more love from her than I’ve ever felt from you or Dad.”

That’s when the room went silent. Sheila dropped into the closest chair. Her bloodshot blue eyes were half open and so was her mouth. She sat frozen in time, staring glassy-eyed out the window.

“Where’s Dad right now? Huh?” Wesley shrugged. “Just forget it. Forget the whole dang thing.”

In the drab light of the colorless day, Sheila bent forward, found her purse with patting hands, and brought out a glass flask with about a half-inch of gold liquid swishing in the bottom. Staring toward the light, she twisted off the silver cap and held both in her lap for what seemed like minutes. Then she closed her eyes, slowly brought the flask to her mouth, and tilted her head back—draining every last drop.

32

AS NEW YEAR’S DAY
travelers breezed about the streets of White Plains, Madison barreled through a traffic light that had just flicked from yellow to red. Four cars behind her, Everett slammed the steering wheel as he came to a stop.

Let her be going home; otherwise, I’ve lost her.

Twelve minutes later, he swerved the Nissan to the side of the road, about a hundred feet past the front of his brother’s estate.
Thank God.
Madison’s blue Beetle was parked just outside the front door, and no other cars were in sight. Turning off his cell phone, Everett hopped from the car and hurried toward his brother’s residence.

Turning into the fierce wind, he jogged up the wide, blacktop driveway, shivering as the tenseness of the situation and the cold, damp winter settled into his bones. Bounding up the steps, he found the front door ajar and pushed it open, stepping into the foyer.

“Madi?” He headed for the kitchen. “Eddie?”

Standing face-to-face, Eddie and Madison looked up at him simultaneously but said nothing.

“What’s going on?” Everett stopped in his tracks. “I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

Madison’s hand was out. In it was Eddie’s wedding band, a gold pocket watch their grandfather had given him, and several other pieces of jewelry Everett didn’t recognize.

“I’m leaving the country.” Eddie peered at him. “Madison’s driving me to the airport. She may come, too.”

“What? What are you saying?” Everett turned to Madison. “What’s goin’ on?”

“Hit another bad beat, brother. But there’s no winning my way out of this one. Lost the Italian lottery. I’m into Badino way over my head.”

Everett’s mind exploded from the fallout. “How much?”

“A hundred and eighty-odd grand.”

No way.

“Uncle Everett, will you tell him we’ll help him?” Madison wrung her hands.

“Eddie,” Everett approached his brother, “I’ll pay it. Don’t worry about that. We have the funds—”

“It’s gone beyond that, Ev. Way beyond. I’ve heard Badino’s furious. You’re probably in danger, too.” He made for the front door, pushed the sheer aside, and stuck his face up to the small window. “The lenders are all after me, repo men… I told Madison to have Sheila sell the house. There’ll be some equity. Maybe she can move into town, like she wanted. A one-bedroom, maybe.”

“So,” Everett threw his hands in the air, “you’re gonna leave your family high and dry, strapped with your debt?”

“Daddy, you just need God.” She trembled. “Please, Uncle Everett, tell him…”

“Madison, no! Everett’s been through that with me.” Eddie waved. “It’s not gonna work. I’m not a Christian, okay? I’m not going to become a Christian. I can’t love a God who took my boy from me and let my marriage die—”

“Then I can’t go with you, Daddy!” Tears jetted out the sides of Madi’s brown eyes. “I can’t go on without God. You can’t either; you just don’t know it yet.”

Eddie turned away with a sickening frown.

“Why are you bringing her into this?” Everett thrust a finger toward his niece. “You want her to go down with you? What gives?”

“I needed her to drive me to the airport. That’s all. I didn’t want to ask you again.”

“Why don’t you drive yourself, you selfish… Why would you endanger your own daughter? And what about Wesley? He’s lyin’ up there in a hospital room!”

Eddie dropped his head and peered at Everett through the top half of his cold eyes. “I think the Amanti and the Yukon may be wired.”

“What do you mean?” Everett stepped closer. “Bombs?”

Eddie nodded.

Everett’s head pounded. And when Eddie spoke again, his voice sounded eerily distant. “The cars are in the garage, but I told Madison no one should go near them until the police check them out—after I’m gone.”

Eddie pushed up his white cuff, checked his Rolex, and ducked into the family room, where he picked up his expensive overcoat from atop a large black suitcase.

“We gotta go.” He faced Everett and Madison and began to put the coat on. “They’re on my trail.”

“Where are you going?” Everett asked.

“Not sure yet.”

“Will you call me?”

“Yeah. You or Madison. I’ll let someone know.”

“What’s with the jewelry?” Everett nodded toward Madison’s closed fist.

“That’s just in case…” Eddie headed for the door.

“Look, I’ll drive you. There’s no way Madi’s going.”

“Fine.” At the front door, Eddie pushed the sheer aside. The suitcase he was carrying dropped to the floor. “Uh-oh.”

Everett bolted for the other window and heard Madison’s footsteps behind him.

“That’s Badino’s thugs,” Eddie said.

The long, black Lincoln glided in and crept up directly behind Madison’s Beetle, stopping just inches from its bumper. Then one, two, three of its big black doors opened, ever so slowly.

“To the basement!” Eddie grabbed Madison’s hand, rushed for the steps, and started down. Everett followed. “You guys need to stay down here or head for the woods out back,” Eddie said. “I’m gonna have to deal with this.”

He went straight for Wesley’s apartment, back into the bedroom. Diving to his stomach, he reached beneath the waterbed and dragged out a heavy gray duffel bag while Everett called 911 on his cell phone.

“You’re not callin’ the cops.” Eddie looked up from his knees, sweating.

Everett ignored him. “This is an emergency,” he told the operator. “Armed men are entering this residence. Hurry!” He confirmed the address, hung up, and looked down to see Eddie loading several semiautomatic pistols.

“I’ve heard these guys only know how to shoot at close range.” Eddie kept loading. “If I can keep my distance, who knows.”

“Daddy, please, stay here with me.” Madison squirmed. “The police will be here soon.”

“You may need this.” He tossed Everett a .45 he’d just loaded. “Madison, I want you to stay in this room and lock the door. Don’t come out for anything.” She tried to grasp his hands, but each contained a gun. He kissed her on the cheek instead. “I’m gonna protect you, honey. I have to do this. Now please, stay calm.”

Everett stuffed the gun in the waist of his Levi’s. “Pray, Madi.” He tossed her his phone. “Call Karen. Tell her to pray, too.” As he pulled the door closed, he heard it lock.

Eddie had already raced up the steps.

Everett stopped. He’d never seen Wesley’s apartment. This was where Karen found the meth equipment and where Wesley had pulled the gun on her.

He touched the cold handle of the heavy pistol, which he knew how to use very well. And he remembered from his arms training that if you dare arm yourself against an intruder, you darn well better be ready to use the weapon.

But he didn’t want to kill.

Crack!

The blast rang out from upstairs.

Crack! Crack!

It sounded unreal.

Heading outside and circling around to the front door seemed like a fair option, but Everett needed to be the roadblock between Madison and the enemy. He dashed up the steps. At the top, he grabbed the gun, chambered a round, and lay on the floor, with his knees on the top few steps.

“Eddie,” he whispered loudly.

“I’m behind the couch,” his brother said. “They tried to crowbar their way in.”

“What were the shots?”

“I fired through the door to keep ’em back.”

“Where are they now?”

“Not sure,” Eddie called. “I see someone out there still. They may try to send someone in another way. You better go back downstairs. Watch Madi’s door. I’ll stay here.”

Glass shattered from the direction of the basement.

“Madison!” Eddie darted in the crouched position toward Everett at the steps.

A blast of glass exploded at the front door, but the shot missed Eddie.

“Stay here,” he barked at Everett. “Don’t let ’em past that door!”

Eddie flew down the steps, and Everett crawled closer to the foyer. Chunks of glass covered the shiny wood floor. Through the gaping hole in the window, he could hear someone just outside the front door.

Madison’s piercing scream rang out so loud and long, it chilled Everett to the core. He didn’t even think but braced the .45 in front of him with two hands and blew four holes clean through the door. Then he whirled for the basement and plunged into the darkness three steps at a time.

Karen couldn’t help it; she was repulsed by Sheila who, holding the empty flask in one hand, wiped the corners of her mouth with the middle finger of the other. “Your sister thinks I’m an alcoholic.” Her head bobbed, she blinked slowly, and her words tumbled out in a slur.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Mom,” Wesley said. “You won’t remember anyway.”

“I want you to know why I drink, Wes.” She leaned her elbows unsteadily on her knees. “There are reasons things have turned out the way they have.”

“Why are we even talkin’ about this?” Wesley shot out. “It’s not gonna do any good.”

“Because, honey, I want you to understand—”

“I understand plenty!” His head and shoulders pivoted away from her. “I understand that ever since David died you’ve given up; Dad too. We’d all be better off goin’ our separate ways.”

“Honey,” she scooted the chair closer, “things were bad
before
David’s accident.”

“Just get out of my face, okay? You smell like a doggone distillery. Why don’t you go home and sober up? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Sheila reached for him, put a hand on his arm. He let it remain.

This was not her world; this was not her idea of family—so far from it. Karen was so out of place. She wanted to be gone from here.

What’s my role in all of this?

She shuddered when she heard the muffled ring of the cell phone in her purse. Picking up the bag, she excused herself and made for the hall.

“Hello,” she answered.

“Aunt Karen!”

“Madi? What’s—?”

“I’m at my house—with Everett and my dad.” She gasped for breath. “They’re after us, Badino’s men.” She let out a cry. “Everett asked me to call. Please pray!”

Karen searched the room with her eyes. “Have you called the police?”

“Everett did. Oh. Oh my…ahhh! A window just broke!”

“Where are you in the house, sweetie?”

“Basement. Someone’s outside the door. They’re pounding…”

Karen could hear the bashing. Wood cracking and splintering. Madison whimpering.

Get out!

But before Karen could get the words out of her mouth, the line went dead.

33

THE SECOND EVERETT HIT
the bottom of the steps, hot weapon still locked in hand, he froze with his back to the left wall. The door to Wesley’s apartment was open. He inched closer, wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his wrist, and concentrated on breathing inaudibly.

“Please, don’t!” Madison cried.

“Let her go!” Eddie yelled. “I’m who you want. Take me. Let’s go. Right now! Just leave her alone.”

Everett eyed the top of the empty steps, then tiptoed to within several feet of the doorway. Extending his free left hand to balance himself against the trim around the door, he leaned into the path of the doorway ever so gradually, peering into the long room, then ducking back out of view.

The snapshot he took of the setting was dreamlike—Madison in the back bedroom, in the headlock of a tall goon with a revolver to her head. The man was one of the wiseguys from Pappano’s restaurant. Eddie’s back was to Everett and his arms were outstretched, pointing two guns at Madison and her abductor.

“Put the guns down,” came the intruder’s low voice. “Or I kill her now and then finish you.”

Silence.

“Your choice,” the gunman said. “How many are gonna die here today? Don’t make no difference to me. None. But I’m losin’ my patience.”

Eddie’s guns clinked to the carpet.

“Facedown on the couch.” The low voice was moving now. There was no backtalk from Eddie. A grunt from Madison sounded closer.

It sounded as if the gunman had kicked the weapons away. Everett’s breathing got heavier, faster—and his ribs seemed to jump with each beat of his thumping heart. He strained to listen as sweat trickled down the side of his face, and he swiped at it with a rolling shoulder.

“I need rope or tape, Lester.” The intruder’s voice was coming closer. “Where is it?”

“In the kitchen drawer there’s tape…I can get it—”

“Shut up! Stay put.”

“Ouch!” Madison cried.

Everett was about to barrel in, but something held him back. Drawers were gliding open and banging shut.

“I don’t know why I’m doin’ this,” the wiseguy said. “You don’t know how lucky you are, lady. This ain’t like me.”

The instant Everett heard the shriek of the reeling duct tape, he made his move.