Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82186 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
One man pivoted to face the threat, his gun drawn, and a shot put him on the ground. The third man took a bullet to the leg, which dropped him. He was going to shoot again, but Kola was up by then and put his foot on the guy’s wrist so he couldn’t raise his hand before Harper was there and, because he was smart, pulled the end of his hoodie over his hand and wrenched the gun away, sliding it across the concrete and out of reach.
The second man on the ground took another shot to the head as George walked by him, because double tap—which was one of Sam’s rules as well—and when he reached Harper, he gave him a pat. “Smart not to leave fingerprints.”
Harper told me later that any praise from George was a very big deal.
“They should probably all see a therapist,” Eli suggested to Sam. “And I know Jake lives with you, but Harper’s folks might have concerns.”
“No,” Harper chimed in, “they came to grips with me being Kola’s best friend years ago. They get it.”
“Still,” Eli stated, giving Sam a pointed look, “I think all four of them should go.”
Sam nodded, glanced at the CPD detectives, at the bodyguards, and then crossed the room to where I was hovering over George.
He was in fatigues, jump boots, a greenish T-shirt that had seen better days and now had some traces of blood spatter adding to its overall dingy appearance. The bandage around his middle, supporting a couple of broken ribs, he’d told me, was easy to spot. His dog tags were hanging around his neck, off to the side now, and his face was covered in bruises. Hannah had put a butterfly closure over a cut on his right eyebrow, another piece of gauze over what had looked like road rash near his jawline on the left, and another large bandage, also on the left, near his clavicle.
“Your kids have a badass bodyguard, Chief Deputy,” Ochoa told Sam. “He was the reason we came with them here, to your house, instead of taking them all down to the station.”
Sam just stared down at George, who looked utterly wrung out. After a moment he turned to face me, gesturing me close. “C’mere.”
I took a breath and lunged, and he wrapped me up in his strong arms and clutched me tight. I did exactly as my daughter had done and broke down, crying all over him while he rubbed my back.
Eli was there with more Kleenex, and I blew my nose as well, and Sam dabbed at my eyes before he lifted his head and gave Eli his attention.
“Let me continue by saying that Alessia is the daughter of Peter Ricci.”
Sam’s scowl was dark.
“Thus, the interest of Chicago PD in this matter above and beyond the obvious body count in a parking structure downtown,” Ochoa chimed in.
His gaze settled on Gianni and Carlo.
Gianni cleared his throat. “We’re just here to protect Alessia for her father. He’s gravely concerned that an attempt was made to kidnap her, as you can imagine.”
Sam nodded.
“In the midst of Mr. Ricci’s ongoing court battles, an attack on his family is something he needs to get to the bottom of.”
“Which means bodies are going to start piling up,” Sam apprised him.
“Yes,” Ochoa agreed loudly.
“No,” Gianni assured him, “Mr. Ricci is not a criminal. He’s a businessman and––”
“Gimme a fuckin’ break,” Reilly scoffed. “We all know that heads are gonna roll when the man facing federal racketeering charges, as well as drug smuggling, prostitution, gun running and murder, starts looking for the guy who ordered the kidnapping of his daughter.”
“My father is not a pimp,” Alessia shouted defensively. The fact she didn’t say anything about the rest of the laundry list of crimes was a concern. “You take that back!”
“He’s innocent of all of it,” Gianni assured Reilly and comforted Alessia at the same time, “and I would advise you not to upset Ms. Ricci. She’s the victim here.”
“But that doesn’t mean there aren’t questions she needs to answer,” Ochoa informed him. “And we need her to come down to the station to answer those.”
“As I said before,” Eli corrected the detective, “once Ms. Ricci’s attorney arrives, we will all head over to our office, where she will be questioned about the events of the evening before the chief deputy’s son intervened.”
“And when is this lawyer going to––”
The knock on the front door was loud.
“Come,” Sam commanded, and in walked Ian Doyle in dress pants that clung to every defined muscle in his legs, wingtips with no socks, and a dress shirt that was also hugging his chiseled chest and abdomen.
“Um,” Eli said with a grin, “hey, buddy.”
“Shut up,” Ian ordered. “I was at dinner, and clearly I lost a bet earlier today.”
Eli snorted, and Sam squinted as Ian walked over and did a bit of a double take, seeing George.