lie down. Got it?” Nico’s voice was cold steel. Everything in him wanted to beat Giordano senseless right now. Forget driving the idiot to a family business. Nico was putting a bullet between his eyes the minute he lay down in the car. Then Nico would come back inside and finish off the wife and kid, and whoever else was in that room. Four old grandparents and the puppy too.
“Giordano, you hear me?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t move.”
Keeping his eyes on his target, Nico sidled toward the living room window. He drew back a frayed sheer curtain with his left hand and threw a glance outside. All clear.
From the corner of his eye he saw Giordano launch like a rocket.
Nico jerked and his finger pulled the trigger.
He thudded to the floor, face down.
Curses burst from Nico. He shoved his pistol in the waistband of his pants and ran to Giordano. Yanked his shoulder to flip him over. Giordano’s eyes were at half mast, his breath a rattle in his throat. Blood pumped from his head and down his temple.
Fury flooded Nico. “Get up!” He kicked Giordano, then wrenched his arm, dragging him over the carpet. Blood smeared in his wake. “Get up!” When Giordano’s head hit the hall floor, Nico came to his senses. The guy wasn’t going anywhere. Nico threw the man’s limp arm down and straightened, glaring at him.
Giordano twitched — and his breathing stopped. The blood stopped spurting.
Nico ran a hand down his face. Good, real good. Now he’d have to load a deadweight body in the car in broad daylight.
The sound of a loud engine filtered from outside. Nico ran back to the window and edged away the sheers. A man climbed down from a pickup truck and walked over to open his storage unit in the first building. As Nico watched, a van turned into the parking lot and headed for a unit in the second building.
He pulled back from the window, thoughts racing. Any minute now more renters were likely to show up. No way could he take the chance on waiting for them to clear.
He turned away, his gaze cutting to Giordano. Blood from the corpse had run onto the hall floor.
Beyond Giordano through the kitchen window, Nico caught a glimpse of black and white on Huff Street.
A police car. Slowing down.
For a stoplight? Or to turn into AC Storage? Maybe some cop coming to pick Giordano up — take him to the station where the Feds could question him?
Nico sprang for the apartment exit. He flung open the door, twisted the cheap lock into place, and slipped through, closing it behind him. Glanced around. The two renters were out of sight in their units. He couldn’t see the black-and-white. If the cop turned in, it would be in seconds.
He ran to his car, pulling the Beretta from his waistband, and jumped inside. Threw the pistol under his seat. He surged on the engine and veered right, up between the two storage buildings, toward the north entrance, forcing himself not to go too fast. As he passed each renter’s car, he flung a look in its direction. One man glanced around, then went back to his boxes. Nico checked his rearview mirror. No black-and-white near Giordano’s apartment. But too late to go back now.
Nico hit Starling Street and turned left.
His shoulders felt like steel. In seconds it had all gone wrong. And he was gonna pay. Bear would eat him alive for leaving Giordano for the cops to find.
Nico smacked the steering wheel and cursed.
TWENTY
At the bottom of the stairs Kaycee peered upward, shoulders lifted, one hand on the banister. She stopped to listen.
No sound from the second floor.
With a deep breath, she mounted the first step.
Certain places on the staircase always creaked, Kaycee knew that. Even so, when the third step groaned beneath her foot, a shiver scuttled across the back of her neck. Her beloved house, her haven for the past five years shape-shifted as she climbed. The walls closed in, the air thickened.
Kaycee reached the sixth step.
She told herself nothing was up there. In two minutes she’d be feeling like an idiot. If she were a child watching her mother mount the stairs with such horror, she’d be disgusted.
But hey,
At the ninth stair Kaycee smelled blood.
The sudden odor flooded her, carrying sound with it — the multiple screams and rush of footsteps from her dream. Only Kaycee wasn’t asleep. The noise banged through the house, her head, so very real.
She bent low, a darkness she’d never known closing in. Her fingers curled around the worn banister, fighting to keep her steady. For a long minute she could only drag in air.
Eyes bored into her back. She whirled around, knowing they hulked behind her — and nearly lost her balance.
No one below.
Slowly the sounds and smell faded until only the rumor of them remained.
Kaycee turned forward again. She scanned the landing above her, looking for she knew not what.
Her fingers cramped as she pried them from the banister.
Five more stairs.
The eleventh creaked louder than the third, as breath-catching as nails on a chalkboard. Kaycee’s shoulders jerked. She leaned to her right, looking up and around the corner into the hall. Her narrowed eyes searched the carpet for footprints, drag marks. Anything. She saw nothing.
One last stair and she reached the landing. She paused, head cocked, gaze raking across what length of hallway she could see. Her mind still throbbed with memories of the footsteps, the screams and smell. But they didn’t come back.
At the door to the hallway, Kaycee looked toward the dim guest bedroom a short distance on her right. Through its open door she spotted the foot of the bed, its yellow spread smooth to the floor, and one of the windows. The curtains were closed. Grasping her upper arms, she moved down the hall and into the room. She took in the whole bed, the maple dresser and nightstand, framed carousel prints on the walls. The second window’s curtains were also drawn. Kaycee pulled back all the window dressings, letting light into the room.
She thought of Mark the night before, checking all closed-off spaces. Heart knocking, she approached the closet. She fisted her hand around the knob and pulled back the door.
Coats and extra clothes hung as she’d left them. Boxes on the shelves. Kaycee shut the door quickly.
Before she could think twice she sank to her knees, bent down, and lifted the covers to check beneath the bed. Nothing there.
Gaining courage, she retraced her steps up the hall, past the doorway to the stair landing. Turned right into the bathroom. This one was easy. The shower curtain remained pushed all the way back, as Mark had left it. The tub stood empty.
By the time she reached her bedroom, Kaycee wanted this torture to be over. She stepped inside and took it
