The Order of Brigid's Cross - The Wild Hunt (Book 1): The Wild Hunt (13 page)

Pete put his car in reverse and pulled out of the private,
underground parking lot beneath the firm’s offices.

“Bingo,” Maria said, watching in the side mirror. “We got a
car following us.”

Pete nodded. “So, what does it look like?” he said,
concentrating on the traffic around him.

“Black, unmarked SUV,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “Could
they be any more obvious?”

Chuckling, Pete shifted gears and pulled onto Lake Shore
Drive. “Beautiful afternoon for a drive,” he said.

She settled back in the soft leather seat. “Yeah, I could
get used to this,” she commented. “So, where are you taking me?”

“I thought I’d drive you home,” he said. “You still live in
the Edgewater?”

She nodded. “Yeah, but how am I supposed to get my car for
tomorrow?”

“I’ll send a car for you,” he said. “Besides, I’ll feel
safer.”

“You think these guys
are that
bad?” she asked.

“No, I’ve seen
your
driving,” he
replied with a quick grin, glancing over at her. “This is purely a public
service.”

“Well, if you ever give up the attorney gig, you can still
get a job as a stand-up comic,” she retorted. “Oh, wait. I mean a roll-on
comic.”

Chuckling, he accelerated and passed a couple of cars and
moved back into the right lane. “Oh, yeah, make fun of the crippled guy.”

“Yeah, poke fun at the Mexican,” she said. “You got any
border-running jokes you want to try out?”

“Yeah, why did…”

“Okay, we got trouble coming hard and fast,” she said,
interrupting him as she stared into the mirror. “They’ve got a couple more cars
joining them. We’ve got to get off.”

They had nearly passed the exit, but Pete turned sharply to
the right, bumped over a curve and slid onto the exit ramp at Lawrence.
“Suggestions?” he asked.

“Yeah, turn left and take Lawrence to Sheridan, then make a
right on Sheridan,” she said.

Following her suggestions, he made a quick left onto
Lawrence, swerving around an oncoming car and speeding down the street.

“Nice one,” she said.

“And that’s why you shouldn’t drive,” he replied, slipping
through a yellow light on Marine Drive.

“Oh, was I supposed to be terrified?” she asked. “You’ll
have to do better than that.”

“Do you think they’ll put out an APB on us?” he mused.

She shook her head. “No, if there not supposed to draw
attention to themselves, it would be kind of hard to justify tailing the top
attorney in Chicago.”

“Thank you,” Pete said.

“I was talking about myself,” Maria replied. “You’re just my
driver.”

He turned onto Sheridan Road, skirted around a CTA bus, and
continued to drive north.
 
“Where’s the
next exit on Lake Shore Drive?” he asked.

“Foster,” she replied. “But they are going to spend some
time checking out the lakefront to see if we are hiding in the park.”

“But we won’t be hiding in the park,” Pete said. “Because…”

“Because, you are going to be buying me a Starbucks,” she
said. “Turn right on Foster, then a left into the parking lot and take the ramp
to the rooftop parking.”

He followed her directions and pulled into a spot next to
the street-side wall and put the vehicle into park.
 
Maria pulled off the cap, letting her black
hair fall tousled to her shoulders, and took off the oversized sweatshirt. The
striped t-shirt hugged her feminine curves, and the loose jeans fell to her
hips.

“You don’t look like a thirteen year old boy anymore,” Pete
said.

Smiling at him, she nodded. “Yeah, that’s the point,” she
said. “What do you want from Starbucks?”

“I thought I was buying,” he said.

She pulled a credit card out of her pocket and grinned. “You
are,” she said.
“Corporate card.”

“I’ll take a small, black coffee,” he said.

“They don’t have small,” she corrected. “They have short.”

“They’re not short,” he corrected. “They’re petite.”

Rolling her eyes, she slipped out of the car. “You are such
a jerk,” she said, bending over and looking into the car.

“Hey, Maria,” he said, suddenly serious.

“Yeah?”

“Be careful, okay?”

She nodded and met his eyes, the amusement gone from hers,
too. “Yeah, I will.”

Jogging to the stairs, she hurried down to street level and
casually walked along Foster to the coffee shop entrance. Pulling out her
cellphone, she dialed Pete as she took her place in line, nonchalantly looking
out the plate glass windows to the street beyond.

“Hey,” Pete said, answering his phone.

“Okay, nothing but a long line,” she began and then stopped
suddenly. “Well, hello there…”

The line moved forward and Maria followed along. “Yeah,
number one is stopped momentarily,” she said.
“Heading west.”

While Maria had been heading down to Starbucks, Pete had
pulled his wheelchair out of the back of the car and was now sitting next to
the rooftop retaining wall. “Yeah, I see him,” Pete said.

Turning, he looked farther east on Foster. “And if I’m not
mistaken, one of his buddies is going to join him at the light.”

Maria stepped up to the counter and placed her order. “When
did Liza plan on going home tonight?” she asked matter-of-factly.

“About fifteen minutes after we left,” he said, glancing
down at his watch. “She should be home by now.”

Popping a ten dollar tip in the jar, Maria picked up the
cups and slipped outside. “Okay, well, I think we’re good then,” she said,
watching the light change and two unmarked SUVs head east into the city.

“We’re still missing number three,” he replied.

“Yeah, well, if I were number three, I would have headed
back the other way, just in case we got off and then turned around and got back
on the other way,” she said.

She jogged up the stairs and walked over to Pete, handing
him the cup of coffee.

Taking a sip, he stared down the street. “Why don’t you give
Liza a call?” he said.
“Just in case someone is tracing my
line.”

Nodding, she punched in the number. “Hey girl,” she said.
“How did your shopping go?”

She paused and smiled. “Yeah, I totally love my new outfit,”
she replied, grinning at Pete. “And it did what I wanted it to do.
Swept that man off his feet.”

She listened and nodded again. “Well, yeah, thanks. I’ll let
him know,” she said. “See you tomorrow.”

She hung up the phone and slid it into her pocket. “Your
package was delivered safe and sound.”

Exhaling slowly, Pete placed his cup in a carrier on his
chair and rolled towards the car. “Thanks for your help,” he said.

“No problem,” she said, climbing in on the other side,
knowing enough about her boss to know that he did not want her help getting
into his car and stowing his wheelchair away.

He handed her his coffee, and she slipped it into the cup
holder between the seats.
 
Then he lifted
his body up with his arms’ strength and slowly lowered himself into the
driver’s seat.

“Remind me to never arm wrestle with you,” she said.

With a quick grin, he nodded. “I’ll do that.”

He twisted back to his chair, flipped the releases that
collapsed it and picked it up and placed it behind his seat.
 
Turning back, he pulled his seatbelt across
his body and started the car. “Ready to go home?” he asked.

She nodded.
“More than ready.”

He maneuvered the car down the ramp and onto the street,
driving north on Sheridan towards Maria’s condo.
 
“Oh, by the way,” he said when he pulled up
to the front of her building. “Today, well, this was above and beyond the call
of duty. So, I’d like to do something for you.”

Surprised, Maria turned to him. “Really, that’s not
necessary…”

“No, I insist,” he said, taking one of her hands in his and
meeting her eyes. “Maria, you can keep the clothes.”

The quaint tavern sat on the corner of a quiet, Irish neighborhood.
It didn’t advertise in any papers, didn’t run ads on any of the radio stations
in the Chicago area and didn’t have an obnoxious neon sign blazing over the
door.
 
But every night it was filled with
people looking for a good meal, a quiet place to meet and the company of old
friends.

About ten years earlier, because of a new city ordinance,
the owners had put in a handicapped accessible ramp, a change that Pete was
very grateful for as he rolled down the easy grade towards the big, oak door
that had a simple wooden sign on it saying “Slainte,” an old Irish toast
meaning “to your health.”

Pete pulled the door open and slipped inside. Quickly
scanning the room, he found Sean and Jamal at a corner table.
 
He looked over to the bar and saw the owner,
Robby O’Sullivan, wiping down the ancient wooden bar with a white towel. Pete
had known Robby since he was a boy in high school, when Robby’s hair was still
red, his inseam matched his waist size and his son had been one of Pete’s best friends.
Now, the hair Robby had left was silvery white and the belly hiding under his
apron overlapped his belt by more than a few inches.

“Well, if it isn’t the mighty attorney come to share a glass
with us,” Robby said as he tucked the towel into his back pocket. “I’m sorry, I
am, that we don’t have none of them girlie drinks you’ve become so fond of.”

A rousing chuckle spread across the dimly lit room like a
soft wave.

Pete paused near the bar and raised his chair, so he was eye
to eye with O’Sullivan. “It’s not the drinks I’m fond of, Robby, my boy. It’s
the girlies that come with them. They can’t keep their hands off me.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” Katherine Mary O’Sullivan, Robby’s
wife, called out as she came through the swinging kitchen door into the bar.
With a tray filled with food in her hand, she quickly paused to give Pete a
quick kiss on the lips. “If it wasn’t for my Robby, they’d have competition.”

“If it wasn’t for Robby, there’d be no others to compete
with,” Pete called after her, laughing at the swish of her hips and the cheeky
wink she tossed back at him.

“What will you have, Pete?” Robby asked with a grin.

“Could you build me a Guinness?” he asked. “And what’s
tonight’s special?”

“Fish and chips with a side of house coleslaw,” he replied.

“Sounds perfect,” Pete said. “I’ll be with O’Reilly.”

He rolled across the room, shaking hands and being greeted
by many of the regulars, and finally reached the corner table.
 
Jamal sat in one chair with a large burger
and steak fries in front of him. Sean sat next to him, his back against the
wall and the door in plain sight, enjoying a Rueben sandwich.

“Took you long enough,” Sean commented, scooping up a bit of
ketchup with a steak fry. “I was worried I’d have to buy more food for Jamal.”

Jamal smiled and took another large bite of his burger.

“This kid must have a hollow leg,” Sean added.

“I don’t have a hollow leg,” he argued with a grin. “I’m
just a growing kid.”

“Yeah, and I just bet you want dessert, too,” Sean said.

His mouth full of food, Jamal could only nod his head
eagerly.

Pete snatched a fry from Sean’s plate, dipped it in the
ketchup and tasted it. “Well, we had a little company on the drive home,” he
said, lowering his voice and edging closer to the table. “But we lost them near
Foster and Sheridan.”

Nodding, Sean put his food down and leaned towards Pete.
“Who were they?”

“Unmarked, black SUVs,” Pete said. “They could have been
anybody. But I’m guessing CPD.”

Sean shook his head. “Yeah, I think you’re right,” he said.
“And I’m not surprised.”

“They didn’t hurt that little lady from your office, did
they?” Jamal asked, the smile gone from his face.

“No, Maria made it home safe and sound,” Pete told him and
then turned to Sean. “Are you going to tell me what this is all about?”

“Are you in?” Sean asked, picking up another fry and leaning
back in his chair just before Katherine swept in with Pete’s plate.

“Don’t you both look like you’re plotting something
fearful,” she said, placing the food down in front of Pete and putting her
hands on her hips.

“Just saving the world again,” Sean said.

Katherine stared at Sean for a moment and cocked her head
slightly. “Why do I feel you’re telling me the truth of it?” she asked slowly,
searching Sean’s eyes. “And why is my blood running cold?”

“Don’t worry,” Pete replied. “When O’Reilly and O’Bryan work
together, even the devil himself runs away.”

“And we’re working together?” Sean asked.

Pete lifted his Guinness in Sean’s direction and toasted
him. “Slainte,” he replied before taking a sip of the dark ale.

Sean picked up his glass of water and saluted his friend.
“And to you,” he replied.

Pete rolled his chair across the scarred wooden floor of the
tavern and stopped in front of the bar. He pushed the button on the arm rail,
and the chair rose so once again he was eyelevel with Robby. Leaning forward,
his forearm resting on the bar, Robby nodded. “What can I do for you?” he
asked, his voice lowered.

Pete smiled. Robby and Katherine were in the very small
circle of people Pete considered trusted friends. They had helped him with a
number of his cases, digging out information he couldn’t get because of both
his handicap and his high profile.
 
They
were true blue and it had nothing to do with the fact that he had purchased
this tavern for them when the owner was trying to close them down and sell the
property to the city for a parking lot. They had been friends before and that’s
what friends did for each other.

Pete slid the keys to his car slowly across the bar surface,
and Robby closed his hands over them. “I need to run an errand with Sean,” he
whispered. “Could you put her in the garage when it’s a little quieter?”

If someone were to overhear the conversation, they would
assume Pete was speaking about the busyness of the tavern. But Robby knew Pete
wanted the car hidden when there was nobody, especially police officers, around
to witness it.

Robby nodded. “I’ll see it’s done and I’ll place the keys in
the usual spot,” he said.

“You’re a good man, Robby O’Sullivan,” Pete said.

“No better than the man I’m looking at,” Robbie replied.

Lowering the chair, Pete rolled back, turned his chair and
moved towards a small hall at the back of the taverns that housed the bathrooms
and access to the storeroom.
 
Katherine
was waiting there, with Sean and Jamal, and a keychain in her hand. “I’m ready
when you are,” he said.

She pushed a key into the deadbolt to the storeroom and then
shoved open the heavy door.
 
The room was
narrow and long, holding shelves with the accoutrements needed to run a thriving
tavern.
 
Katherine let them all in, then
went behind, pushing the door closed and locking it behind them.

“This is so cool,” Jamal whispered, looking at the shelves
filled with large cans and jars.

“Aye, but not
so
cool as the
freezer,” Katherine said as she pulled on the latch of a metal door and
revealed a large, walk-in freezer.

The space was narrow, with metal shelves filled with all
kinds of meat, as well as frozen desserts. Katherine led the way, followed by
Pete with Sean holding onto the chair handles and pushing his friend across the
slippery, frozen floor, with Jamal taking up the rear.

“This is the only place we have a loading dock,” she
explained as they walked to the other end of the freezer space. “So, it’s the
safest place for you to exit the place.”

Turning another lock, she pushed the door open and peered
outside. “There’s no one about,” she said. “You’ll be safe.”

It was more of an order than a question and Pete nodded.
“Yes, we’ll be fine,” he said. “We just want to keep our little friend here
under the radar.”

Turning to Jamal, she smiled. “Well, you’re welcome back
here any time, young man,” she said.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he replied. “You make some fine food
here. My grandma would even like it.”

She chuckled softly. “Well, that’s high praise indeed,” she
said. “You be sure to bring your grandmother with you the next time you come.”

“I will, ma’am,” he said with an eager nod. “I sure will.”

Sean crept around Pete and out the door to the loading
dock.
 
He’d already parked his cruiser in
the back but quickly jogged down the ramp to move the car closer to the
building.
 
In a matter of moments, Pete
was in the passenger seat, his chair stowed in the trunk. Jamal was in the back
seat and Sean was ready to put the car in reverse and pull out of the small lot
near the alley.

Sean glanced up and nodded to Katherine who waved and
stepped back inside, pulling the door securely closed behind her.
 
Then he turned to Jamal. “Okay, I need you to
make yourself as short as possible back there,” he said. “And if we are coming
up to any cars, you hit the cushions, got it?”

Jamal
nodded,
a look of fear
replacing the smile he’d just been wearing.

“Hey, kid, don’t worry,” Sean said with an easy smile. “No
one is going to catch us. I’m just taking precautions. That’s all.”

Watching through the rearview, Sean saw Jamal’s face ease up
a little, but there was still concern etched across it. Smart kid, he thought.

He pulled down the narrow, side streets and headed west,
towards the church.
 
The neighborhood
they’d been in, Canaryville, was on the southwest side of the city. It was a
close-knit community that looked out for its own.
 
Both Sean and Pete had known they’d be safe
there.
 
But moving beyond those borders,
down Pershing Road past Halsted Street, they’d need to be on the alert for the
people who had been following Pete earlier that evening.

The sky was the gray-lavender hue of twilight, and the
street lights were beginning to glow. The traffic was light, most of the rush hour
traffic having dissipated about an hour earlier. Sean and Pete didn’t talk at
first, each watching for a sign they were being pursued.

“They don’t know you’re involved,” Pete finally said.

Sean shook his head. “No, and I’m trying to keep it that
way.”

“Smart move,” Pete replied. “It’ll give you more access to
whatever we might need to solve this.”

“Yeah, about that,” Sean said. “This is not going to be one
of those ‘we got the bad guys and now we’re done’ kind of crimes.”

“You telling me I thought I signed up for a date to the prom
and we’re actually married now?”

Sean grinned.
“Pretty much.”

“Shit.”

Jamal giggled.

Pete turned and looked over at Jamal. “You probably
shouldn’t repeat words like that in front of your grandmother,” he said.

Jamal nodded. “Yeah, I know. She’d tan my hide for sure.”

Pete choked and Sean chuckled. “Jamal,” Pete finally said,
“I think I’m going to like your grandmother.”

Suddenly, Jamal’s eyes went wide and he inhaled sharply.

“What?” Pete asked.

Lifting a shaking arm, Jamal pointed up into the sky in the
west and a little north of where they were driving. Pete and Sean looked over.
“What are we looking for, Jamal?” Sean asked, taking his foot off the
accelerator.

“That cloud, over there,” Jamal said. “It’s just like last
night.
Swirling and all.
It’s just like what brought
those things to the park. It’s happening again.”

Sean turned his attention to the northwest. “Damn,” he
muttered, seeing the powerful, black vortex wrapping around
itself
.
 
Switching on his siren, he accelerated down
the street.

“Well, holy hell,” Pete said. “I’ve never seen anything like
it.”

 
“Yeah, me either,”
Sean said, passing Ashland Avenue and heading towards
Damen
.
“It looks like
it’s
right over the park.”

“What the hell is going on?” Pete asked.

“Well, don’t look now, but I’m going to be showing you a
wedding reception you’re never going to forget.”