Page 61 of Deadly Target
Alfie sat on his deck with a tumbler of scotch, the night shadows deep as he looked over the lights of the city. His daughter had gone to bed crying, upset over some stupid text from one of her friends, after he’d slipped both of them inside the house.
After this was over, he was putting her in a private school, away from the LA trash. She was sensitive, and longed to be a writer someday, so maybe he could find one of those artsy schools where she would feel more at home.
A matter of days. His plan was falling into place, although the specifics had changed slightly. He’d spoon-fed the evidence to Olivia, framing Frankie without giving her more than necessary. Soon, he would hand her the final nail for Frankie and Gino’s coffins. In the process, he’d kept Dupé busy and let him see just how close he could get to those the director cared about. Tonight’s showdown had not gone as planned, but nothing was lost. Tracee wouldn’t be telling on him, and while the director was still alive, he wouldn’t be for long.
The scotch eased his frayed nerves, his mind building the next scenario, locking in his place as the most powerful man on the West Coast. LA was going to be the biggest challenge, but the Kings would make sure he had the manpower. In exchange, he’d help expand their drug business up to San Francisco and down to San Diego, ending their biggest competition.
His phone rang. He let it. After three rings, it went dead. A minute passed, and it rang three times again.
Olivia.
She was no doubt calling about Tracee Tyson. Again.
He finished his scotch before returning the call. When she answered, he played it cool. “Did you catch any of those bastards from the other night, marshal?”
Her voice was tense. “Working on it. Where are you?”
“Home, dealing with a hysterical thirteen-year-old girl who didn’t get invited to a friend’s birthday party, and then was texted by the so-called friend, telling her to quit being a whiny baby and go kill herself. Got to tell you, kids these days. Someone ought to smack her upside the head.”
“The world is a brutal place. You want me to talk to her?”
He sat up, placing his glass on the table next to him. She wanted to come over? Not exactly what he’d expected, but he needed to pretend he’d been home all evening. Maybe if he got her here, he could work on his plan of seducing her. She was a tough one. And not only because they were on opposite sides of the law. Her father had sure done a number on her head.
Still, it meant a lot that she’d consider talking to his daughter. “You’d do that?”
“I picked up some of that wine you like and thought maybe we could discuss the Suarez Kings in more detail. Have you seen the news?”
“With all the drama in my house tonight? Why? What happened?”
“Tracee Tyson was murdered in her penthouse. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
He frowned into the dark shadows below the deck. Why did she suspect he would know about it? Had he inadvertently left something behind that would tie him to it? “The actress? She’s dead?”
A strained silence followed before Olivia said, “I think it was one of the Kings. A drug deal gone bad. A couple of his pals were watching the front entrance and tried to take out a Homeland agent.”
Alfie relaxed, his frown turning into a smile. Another thing the Kings were good for was taking the fall for pretty much everything. “Jesus, they’re getting ballsy. What was a Homeland agent doing there? They got terrorists in the hotel?”
“Can we talk about this in person?”
He puffed out his lips and made a soft sighing sound. “Sure, doll, but honestly, it’s been a long day and it’s not over yet in the teenage drama department. I may not be able to talk much about what happened unless we get Mary Margaret calmed down.”
“I’ll bring some Ben & Jerry’s. That’ll take the edge off.”
She really would make a great mother for his girl. “A female touch is what she needs, I’ll admit it. She may be daddy’s girl, but she could use a woman to confide in.”
Olivia sounded confident. “I’m on my way.”
* * *
“This isthe mic I’ll be wearing,” Olivia told her father, showing the small device to him and handing him the receiver. “You can listen to everything Alfie and I say, and it will be recorded.”
He took it. “I know how it works. I wish you’d let me go in and talk to the SOB. He wouldn’t be the first person I got information out of.”
“Are you serious right now? Don’t even go there, Dad.”
She fastened the top button of her shirt, making sure the microphone was sufficiently hidden in her cleavage. “Whatever you do, donotget out of the car. No matter what happens, you are not to engage anyone or anything. I don’t care if you hear Alfie threaten to kill me, you are not to storm the house or call attention to yourself in any way. I will handle whatever comes up, and I need you to have faith in my abilities.”
“Jeez, I do, all right? We may look at the world differently, Olivia, but there’s one thing I’ve always known about you, and that is you are my child. You exceed at everything you put your mind to. But I will not promise to sit by and let Barone kill you. If he so much as threatens the hair on your head, I will be inside that house before he can blink and they’ll be the last words he ever utters.”
