Page 64 of Deadly Target
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An empty glass sat on the table next to an Adirondack chair on Alfie’s back porch. The faint scent of cigar smoke hung in the humid air. Olivia peeked through the screen, noting that the hitman had left the glass slider open, as if expecting to come back outside.
He probably had, considering he was expecting her and not Frankie Molina.
The lights inside came from the kitchen and hallway. Men’s voices drifted to her from the front of the house where the living and dining areas were located.
It was after ten PM, and she hoped Mary Margaret was in bed. She eased the screen door back, flinching slightly when it squeaked. Freezing in place, she waited to see if there was any reaction from inside the house, her pulse banging away in her ears.
When nothing happened, and the voices continued from the front room, she finished entering and softly closed the screen behind her.
Fingering her weapon, she kept it up and ready to fire as she tiptoed down the hall to the base of the staircase, praying no one came out of the living room, because they were sure to see her if they did. The steps were the next hurdle. She had never been upstairs in Alfie’s house, but she had heard him go up and down them enough to know the old wood popped and creaked whenever weight was put on it. Drawing in a silent breath, she sidled up to the wall the stairs attached to, putting her back to it and keeping her gun facing the front room as she carefully picked up one foot and placed it on the next step. As she continued the slow climb, she listened to the conversation filtering out from the living room.
“You come to my house and throw accusations around?” Alfie.
Frankie’s voice was more nasally, as if he were impersonating the Godfather. “Come on, now, Alfonso. Gino and I are doing a little housecleaning and it has come to our attention that you are being quite industrious behind our backs.”
Yep. This was going to go bad, and it was gonna go bad fast.
Olivia climbed faster.
The two men continued to trade comments and veiled threats, but Frankie must not have any hard evidence about Alfie’s misdeeds or he would’ve simply shot him without waiting for an explanation. That gave her hope. She really wished Alfie wasn’t behind everything, but regardless, she didn’t want Frankie killing him. With Alfie alive, she could still take down the Gang and make sure Mary Margaret continued to have a father around, even if he ended up in prison. If Frankie killed Alfie tonight, she really had no way to prove he was or wasn’t responsible for what had happened to Danny or Victor’s taskforce members.
She gently stepped onto the landing just as she heard Alfie say, “Look, my kid’s upstairs trying to sleep. I don’t want to get into anything tonight. Let’s start over. How about a drink?”
That was the thing about Alfonso, he knew how to schmooze with everyone. He was probably thinking the same thing Olivia was—he’d already be dead if Frankie knew about his side dealings.
“I’ve got the marshal in my pocket like you wanted,” Alfie said, and Olivia froze in place once more, cocking her head to listen.
“I’d like you to take her and the FBI director out at the same time.” Frankie. “Will that be a problem?”
Take us out?Her hand tightened on the butt of the gun.
“None at all.” She heard the clinking of ice in a glass as Alfie poured Frankie a drink. “They’re together more than they’re apart these days. But if I were you, I’d give her a little more time to come to an understanding with me. She and I have a connection, you know. We can use her to help us handle whoever takes over Dupé’s position. It might not even be a bad idea to let him live. Think about it—we control her, and she manipulates him. We get the FBI and all those joint taskforces off our backs.”
Her blood started to boil as fast as her pulse beat. If she didn’t have to save Mary Margaret…
No. She couldn’t take the chance that these two might still end up at each other’s throats. If Frankie had simply wanted to discuss business, he would’ve done it at his office. Not in Alfie’s home.
This still had the makings of a hit, and she needed to save the girl.
The upstairs hallway had four doors, two of which were closed. Olivia crept past the bathroom where a nightlight spilled a soft glow onto the carpet runner and eased toward the closed bedroom door. A large poster of Beyoncé adorned most of the wood and homemade door hanger, decorated with pink and purple marker and glitter, declared the owner behind the door was Mary Margaret.
Waking up the girl without scaring her was going to be the next obstacle. With one last check over her shoulder, Olivia tucked her gun away in her holster. She didn’t dare knock, and only hoped Mary Margaret didn’t scream when she entered.
She expected the girl to be in bed, but as she silently twisted the metal knob and stepped in, she saw a light coming from a desk. She peeked her head around and found Mary Margaret behind the desk staring at her, one knee pulled up to her chest, her foot on the chair. Her cell phone sat on the desktop and she looked like she’d been crying.
Olivia smiled and put a finger to her lips, the universal sign for quiet, as she entered and closed the door behind her.
“Hi,” she whispered. “Do you remember me?”
The girl gazed at her solemnly. “You’re my dad’s friend. He said you were coming over to talk to me.”
“That’s right. Your dad is downstairs, and he has some unexpected company, so he asked me to take you back to my place for tonight.” While Olivia knew Alfie protected Mary Margaret from the truth about who he was and what he did, this was no time to beat around the bush. “We need to move fast and quietly, because the men downstairs with him could be dangerous. Do you understand?”
Her foot came off the chair, her hand closing over the phone. “Is my dad going to be okay?”
The false promise of yes tangled up Olivia’s tongue. She bit her bottom lip, glancing around for a pair of jeans or sweatshirt she could grab for the girl. “We’re going to slip downstairs as quietly as possible and out the back door, kind of like a game. Three houses down in front of the brown ranch there is a red car with my father in it. He’s going to take you to my place and I’ll come back here and help your dad, okay? In case those men decide to get cranky.”
