Prisoned: A Dark Twisted Erotic Standalone (26 page)

It looked like I had stayed in there a little longer than I planned.

Our eyes connected as I slipped through the sliding glass door.

He said, “I’ll call you back.” Then, he dropped the phone in his pocket.

I handed him a plate, stuck the now four-pack on the table, and joined him on the couch.

As kids, a bit of silence between us had never felt strange. It didn’t mean that we had run out of things to say. It had just felt comfortable.

It didn’t feel comfortable at all now.

We sat quietly and ate our pizza as questions started to fly through my head.

Why hadn’t he responded when I told him I didn’t blame him for the accident? Why hadn’t he even acknowledged what I said? Why hadn’t he softened at all?

“I won’t be mad,” I blurted out. “I promise I won’t take back anything that I said, but I have to know…”

He turned to face me. The Gulf of Mexico was at least twenty yards in front of us, but his eyes had taken on its color. They were deep blue, almost navy. I could feel their gaze penetrating my clothes.

“Did you know the person who hit us?” I asked.

One, two, three seconds passed. His face remained stoic. He said nothing.

Finally, he took a breath and looked back at the ocean. “No, Kyle, I didn’t.”

While I was in the hospital, I’d learned that it was a hit-and-run. Garin had given his statement to the police, and the investigation was open. The driver still hadn’t been found. But that didn’t mean it was a random accident.

“I just wondered if maybe you had seen his face, and it was someone you had a problem with or maybe someone the bosses had an issue with and—”

“It had nothing to do with them.”

“Then, why did you have security at the hospital?”

He took a bite of his pizza and washed it down with beer. “There’s security wherever I am. It’s part of my life now.”

I looked out to the empty living room and kitchen. Though I couldn’t see out to the front of my house from here, there weren’t any headlights shining through the windows. “The driver’s still out there?”

He nodded. “Listen, you were unconscious for eight days. I made sure that the only people who saw you were the ones who could make you better. Once you were awake, who you let in was your decision to make. But while I was in control, it was
mine
.”

That was why Anthony hadn’t been allowed in before I had woken up. I didn’t trust my brother enough for him to see me while I was unconscious. That made me appreciate the security even more.

But it didn’t explain why Garin was lacking the warmth I remembered.

I finished the rest of my pizza and then grabbed another beer. I wrapped the cap in my tank top to twist it. It took several tries before I found the strength to get it off. “I always wanted to bring Billy down here.” I sipped and stared at the water, surprised by the honesty that was surfacing in me. “Get him out of Atlantic City. Show him the Gulf. Let him feel the sunshine. Get him away from all those people.”

“What stopped you?”

“Fear.” Guilt was the real reason. “Fear that once he got here, he’d possibly only get worse.” More than that, I knew Anthony would have killed me if I’d brought Paulie’s brother down here.

“Florida wouldn’t have gotten him sober,” Garin said.

I looked at him. It had been a few days since he shaved, and his scruff was growing in thick, just like it had in the dream.

“You don’t think?”

“Only one thing could have helped that kid.”

I blinked hard and swallowed, trying to keep the emotion from showing on my face. That one thing…I knew what it was. I had a role in it. I could have given it to Billy, and he would still be alive. But I was too much of a coward to tell him the truth, to tell anyone the truth.

Garin took the beer out of my hand and placed it back on the table. “Let’s go for a walk,” he said, holding out his fingers, waiting for me to grasp them.

Thirty-One

Garin

Thirteen Days Ago

Unknown
 flashed across my screen, and I answered the call just before it went to voice mail. “You’d better have news,” I said, unable to hide the irritation in my voice.

Azzo didn’t usually take this long to get back to me. He worked hard and fast and was the best PI in the business, which was why he’d been on the bosses’ payroll for the last few years. If information existed, Azzo found it. But the waiting almost fucking killed me.

“I got almost everything you asked for,” he said. “I’m sorry it took me an extra day, but what I’m about to tell you will make it worth the wait.”

“Give me a second,” I said.

I muted the phone and looked over at Mario. There was a naked slut standing behind him, rubbing his shoulders. Another one knelt at his feet, sucking his toes. The whore on the ground was for me. But, when she had shown up, stripping off her clothes to join Mario and me in the sauna, I decided I didn’t want her. I didn’t have the patience for her soft fingers all over me.

I wanted to break fingers. I wanted to make some skin fucking bleed.

“I’m taking this in your office,” I told Mario.

“Do what you need to do,” he said.

I left the indoor pool and hustled up the stairs to the first floor, rushing down the hallway until I reached the last door. Then, I locked myself in Mario’s office and sat on the ledge in front of the windows. “Speak.”

“Mario’s guy was right; the hooker he’d seen near the alley when he went to collect the evidence from Billy’s body had been around when Billy died. She didn’t see the murder, but she had a real soft spot for Billy. She’d fucked him a few times in the last couple of weeks…told me she did it for free, too. She said she was headed to meet up with him, and when she got there, he was already dead.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.” I remembered the conversation I’d had with Billy about some whore. She was the one who had said Paulie owed her money. “This isn’t the same one who supposedly worked for Paulie, is it?”

“One and the same. Call it a strange hunch, but I decided to test a sample of the heroin she had on her and compare it to the residue Mario’s guy found in Billy’s needle. I hit the fucking jackpot, Garin. The junk was identical; it must have come from the same batch.”

“So, they bought it from the same dealer; that tells me nothing.”

“Nah,” he said, “it tells us
everything
because the hooker doesn’t buy it. It’s supplied to her from her pimp; that’s part of her payment. Here’s what we know—the hooker had the same size needle on her that was found in Billy’s chest, and she had the exact same heroin.”

“Don’t fucking tell me it was the hooker.”

“I can’t prove anything just yet, but she would have taken Billy’s cash and his heroin…and both were found on him. I think it was her pimp.”

“What’s his name?”

“Are you ready for this? It’s Anthony Lang.”

That motherfucker.

If I weren’t at Mario’s house, my fist would have shattered the window behind me. I would have punched that goddamn glass until I bled out.

Anthony Lang.

Paulie’s best friend.

Kyle’s brother.

So, if Azzo’s information was right, Paulie had partnered up with Anthony. Something must have gone wrong, and Anthony had killed him. Twelve years later, Anthony found out that Billy was looking into Paulie’s murder. Maybe Billy talked to the wrong person; maybe rumors started to spread. I’d warned Billy that either of those could happen. But, somehow, Anthony found out Billy was snooping, and he fucking murdered my best friend.

All I needed was confirmation that it was Anthony, and I would murder him.

“Tell me what you have on Anthony Lang,” I said.

“He drives to Tampa, Florida, once a month, always around the first. When he arrives, he goes straight to his sister’s house and carries inside a medium-sized black duffel bag. He stays about twenty minutes and leaves with the bag. Then, he goes to his mother’s house and stays there until he drives back to New Jersey. Usually, it’s a one-night visit. On occasion, it’s two nights.”

“I need more.”

“His sister, Kyle, doesn’t have a mortgage on her house. She rents the building her shop is in, and the rent is paid a whole year up front. She has zero debt—no car loan, no student loans, no personal lines of credit. She carries no balance on her credit card. Same with her mother.”

I didn’t like the sound of that.

I hoped to hell she didn’t know.

“The mother’s house was purchased less than a week after Paulie’s death,” he continued. “That was where Kyle lived while she attended college.”

Two houses. Both paid for in cash. The first house bought less than a week after Paulie died.

That wasn’t a coincidence.

But did Kyle know?

“Tell me about Kyle’s business.”

“It’s moderately successful. She takes a salary of a little less than a hundred grand and reinvests the remainder of the profits back into the business. But, with that salary, she’s not buying her Lexus in cash, and she’s definitely not buying her house outright.”

She was cleaning Anthony’s money, filtering it through the business and using it to buy the houses and cars and then burying whatever was left in that duffel bag each month.

That wasn’t the Kyle I knew. She only hustled as a kid because she felt guilty for taking so much from Billy and me, and she wanted to contribute. She wasn’t the type to get involved with something this large, especially because it crossed into her art.

Art was everything to Kyle.

“Is there a guy in her life? Or is this all from Anthony?”

“She dates, but it doesn’t look like anything is ever too serious. The steady man in her life is her brother. Unless they’re really good friends, the number of texts she receives from him is on the high side, but she only responds to a small percentage. If I had to guess, she’s taking orders.”

That was my guess, too.

And it started the night Paulie was murdered. I’d gone over the timeline so many fucking times in my head. Kyle must have been outside, somewhere in the vicinity of her front door, when the gun had gone off. I found it pretty strange that she hadn’t come out when I was screaming in the middle of the road, and that she was nowhere to be found later that night when the cops and ambulance left. And that I didn’t see her again until the next day.

“There’s one more piece of news,” he said.

I gritted my teeth. “Let me hear it.”

“I hacked into the University of South Florida’s system; that’s where Kyle went to school. Looks like she applied in person, was interviewed by Admissions, and got early acceptance.”

After Paulie died, Kyle had missed two days of school toward the end of that week. I’d banged on her front door, begging her to come out so that I could talk to her. Banged and fucking banged. She wouldn’t answer. No one did. The banging went on for weeks, even though Kyle returned to school after those two days.

“Let me guess…” I shut my eyes and shook my head. “She applied less than a week after Paulie’s murder?”

“You got it, man. Airline records show Kyle and Anthony spent two days in Florida. She got into school, he bought the house, and they flew back to Jersey.”

I had just talked to Kyle about college, and she hadn’t known where she wanted to go at that point. She used to tell me everything, and never once had she mentioned Florida.

That was because she hadn’t chosen Florida; it had been chosen for her. Just like the house had been chosen and bought for her. Anthony had probably even slipped the Admissions lady a few bucks to get Kyle in early. Then, she came back to Jersey, I cornered her in the alley, and she never talked to Billy or me again. She graduated and moved to Florida.

All these years later, Anthony was still running her goddamn life.

Kyle knew.

Maybe she even saw it.

And I was going to get her to confess.

“I don’t have any evidence that puts Anthony in that alley when Billy died or in The Heart at the time of Paulie’s murder,” Azzo said. “Not yet anyway.”

“I’ll get the evidence.”

“If you’re looking to get it from Kyle, I can save you a trip to Florida. She’ll be at Billy’s funeral.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“Why else would she be flying into Atlantic City tomorrow and traveling back the following day? I’ll email you her flight and hotel information.”

She was coming straight to me. I’d finally get to look her in the face again.

I’d get to put my hands on her. I’d get to hear either the truth or a lie.

If it was a lie, she was going to be punished.

And she would suffer.

Oh, would she fucking suffer, all right.

“Good work, Azzo. Guessing the hooker wants compensation? And whoever else you had to convince?”

“It’s all been covered by the bosses’ petty cash, but I’ll send you an itemized list in case you want to reimburse them.”

“I’d appreciate that.”

The bosses paid for a lot, which was one of the perks of running their casino. But this had nothing to do with them. This was on me. And I’d make sure Mario knew that I would pay back every dollar that had been spent.

“I’ll be in touch,” Azzo said.

And we both hung up.

I paced Mario’s office as I put all the pieces together.

Kyle would be coming into town tomorrow and likely spending most of her time with Anthony. I had to come up with a plan that would get her away from him, so I could get an answer out of her.

But I didn’t have much time.

When I walked back into the indoor pool room, both girls were on their knees, taking turns giving Mario head. He gripped one by the hair and rubbed the other’s tit. His eyes drifted up to mine as the door slammed behind me.

“I need your help,” I barked.

He pulled his cock out of the whore’s mouth and covered himself with the towel. “Get out,” he said to them. When they didn’t move fast enough, he snapped, “Fucking hurry!”

They rushed out and closed the door, and he stood from the chair and walked over to me.

He had the biggest goddamn grin on his face—the same one he wore whenever he got to pull out his gun. “Who do I get to kill tonight?”