Page 84 of Justice for Francesca

“Yeah. Same for Mannix. He let me land a few good punches. Asshole was just letting me get close so he could pin me and share his wisdom.”

Cruz looked at him, puzzled. “You gonna fill me in?”

Tripoli deflected his question by drawing attention to Mickie. “Get her to Quint. We’ll talk after.”

One arm still around Mickie, Cruz tipped his head toward the elevator. “I’ll be back to talk to you in a few minutes. Don’t leave here. You’re not an officer, so I can’t sanction you going after her.”

“No need to ‘sanction’ me, Cruz. And I’m going. Francesca’s mine, and she’s going to need me before this is all over. I’ve sat back long enough and let her do her thing. Things are different now.”

Cruz shook his head. “Just don’t leave without talking to me, all right?” He exited the room, talking softly to Mickie as they left.

Tripoli began to unbutton his dress shirt and headed into the bedroom and his walk-in closet. Inside, he shucked his shirt, balled it up, and threw it in the hamper. His jeans were next. In the center of the closet was a table that contained drawers filled with underclothes, ties, and assorted other accessory items. From the bottom drawer, he pulled a long-sleeved black turtleneck and black tactical pants. Fully clothed, he returned to the bedroom with a pair of black lace-up boots in his hands.

A few minutes later, Cosmos, Triumph, Lobo, and Steel entered the room. “You okay, Trip?” Cosmos asked.

“Yeah. Nothing hurts but my pride.” Tripoli tossed Triumph a small black box. “Connect that frequency to my watch, then give it to Lobo and Steel.”

“What’s at the end of the frequency?”

“Mannix gave it to me. The receiver is where they’ve taken Francesca.”

“I’m on it.” Triumph spun on his heel and left the room.

There was quiet in the room. “Her father? He do Mila, Jessa, and Tilly?” Cosmos asked.

Swallowing past the large lump in his throat, Tripoli gathered himself and stomped down on the pain. He couldn’t afford emotions right now. Emotions got you killed. “Yes.”

“I’ll go check on Triumph. Be back when he’s got you locked in. I’m going with.”

Lobo and Steel were the only ones who had remained behind. “What do you want us to do?” Lobo rumbled.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, Tripoli didn’t look up as he began lacing up his boots. “Get to wherever that frequency is,” he replied. “I need you to cover Oisin McCabe. He does not get out of this alive. Cruz won’t be able to kill him without provocation, and I can’t, or I’ll get arrested. They don’t know about you two, so if shit goes sour, I need you to do it and then get the fuck out of there. Price is no object.”

“No fee needed for this motherfucker. What about the brothers?” Steel asked.

“Let’s just say that they’re the good bad guys. They’ll protect her as long as they can, but…” Tripoli blew out a breath as he stood up. “They need to try not to blow their cover. Cruz and company can’t know.”

“You learned a lot of shit in a very short space of time,” Lobo commented. “You sure you trust them?”

“Trust them? No. But right now, they’re Francesca’s only hope, so I’ve got no choice.”

A beep came from Lobo’s watch, followed closely by Steel’s. The latter reported, “Triumph sent us the frequency along with a live map. They’re headed toward the airport.”

“Makes sense. They’re probably going to try to get her back to New York City. Driving her there leaves too many openings for shit to go wrong on their end, and leaving her body somewhere here means an investigation.” He sent a text. “I’ve asked Triumph to search the private jet companies for any flight plans going to or near the city. He’ll check into hangar rentals as well.”

“We’ll head that way and keep watch. Unless they try to take off and you’re not there yet, we won’t intervene.” Lobo held his hand out to Tripoli. “Either way, we probably won’t see you again tonight. We’ll leave town as soon as everything’s taken care of, and hopefully without being seen or involved. Just know, we will intervene if we need to, Tripoli.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.” He shook hands with Steel, then both men went quietly out the door.

Cosmos reentered the room and whistled. “I still don’t know who’s scarier. Lobo or his friend.”

“Me either. Not sure I want to know.”

Tripoli went back into his closet and reopened his gun safe. Earlier, he’d removed his Glock, a gun he hadn’t touched other than to lock it up. Now he went for his second Glock, the holsters for both, and began to fill the second magazine on the tabletop in the center of the closet.

“You’re going to get yourself arrested if you kill him,” Cosmos warned.

Without looking up, Tripoli put the box of bullets he’d opened fresh tonight and secured it in his outer pants pocket. “Your point?”

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