Jessie’s arm emerged over the top of a mound of boxes, his hand wielding a gun. Fire spat from the muzzle. I returned fire, ducked, and hit the floor.
Two rounds flew over my head in the direction of the kitchen. I wormed my way through the boxes and around the small round table and chairs near the window.
Jessie panted. I remained silent, focusing on each heavy breath. A dull thud hit the wood floor. Was he reloading?
I stalked him, flanking his position behind the wall of boxes. I trained the Beretta at the corner, moving closer.
Jessie sat crouched on the floor with his back to me. He sat up straight and peered over the top of the boxes. I closed in.
I pressed the barrel against the back of his skull. “Don’t move.”
He sighed, then lifted his arms into the air. I reached over his shoulder, and took the pistol from his hand.
“You got any other weapons on you?” I asked, pocketing his piece.
Jessie hesitated for a moment. “No.”
I kept the Beretta pressed to his head. “You sure about that? Like I said, I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if need be. So again, do you have any other weapons on you?”
“Fine.” He lowered his arms.
I nudged his head with the Beretta. “Slow and easy there.”
“It’s on my ankle,” Jessie replied in a curt tone. He reached for his right pant leg and lifted it. I watched his every move as he pulled the small-black pistol from the ankle holster, then handed it to me.
“That’s all?”
“Yeah. That’s all.” Jessie sighed.
“Come on. Stand up.” I kept the Beretta a scant inch away from his thick, black hair.
Jessie stood with his arms in the air. I walked around him, watching for any sudden movements. He cut his eyes to me and pursed his lips.
I glanced over the loft. “Is anyone else here?”
“No. Just me,” he answered in a huff.
“Good. I hate surprises,” I replied.
“Me too, but here we are,” Jessie said, his voice thick with anger. “What do you want?”
“I told you what I want and why I’m here,” I answered. “I need to know what you stole and who you stole it from.”
Jessie moved his hands. “Can I lower my arms?”
“Are you going to try anything stupid?” I nodded at the Beretta in my hand. “I have an itchy trigger finger.”
“No. Don’t much feel like getting shot today.”
“Me either.” I lowered the Beretta to my side, but kept my finger over the trigger.
Jessie stared at me, then lowered his arms. “How do you know William and Cindy?”
“Wrong place at the right time,” I replied. “Whoever the two of you messed over beat the shit out of William and was looking to do the same thing to his wife before I happened upon their little torture session.”
“Oh, man.” Jessie ran his hands through his hair, then over his face. He turned and paced the floor, muttering under his breath. “What did he tell them?”
“Not sure. The only thing I know is that you two stole something they want back and that your neck is on the chopping block,” I replied, watching him pace the floor.
Jessie rubbed his neck, dipped his chin, and scanned over the floor. “If they know about me, then I’m as good as dead. I’ve got to get out of here while I can.”
I snapped my fingers at him. “Hey, listen. You’re not going anywhere until I get some answers.”
Jessie ignored me, rummaging through boxes, then walking past me. I grabbed him by the arm, then wrenched him around.
He looked at me, face stricken with panic and terror. “You don’t want any part of those people. I knew we shouldn’t have messed with them, but William wanted to do it.” Jessie jerked his arm from my hand. “Now he’s dead, and I’m screwed.”
“Who are they?”
“The McCones. They run this city. Drugs, prostitution, weapon trafficking. Pretty much everything under the sun,” Jessie answered in a raised voice. “The worst of the worst.”
The name didn’t ring a bell, but that didn’t mean much. “What did you take from them?”
“Information. Valuable information,” Jessie replied, looking toward the entrance of his loft.
I snapped my fingers again in front of his face. “Focus here. What sort of information are we talking about?”
“Contacts. Shipments. Financials, and a ton of other data.” Jessie glanced to me, then back to the door. “William got wind of a buyer wanting said information from the McCones. A rival gang that offered up a nice payday he couldn’t resist.”
I shook my head, then held up my hand. “Hold on. From the way Cindy spoke, you dragged him into this whole mess. That it was your idea.”
A scowl formed on Jessie’s face. He scoffed. “She would say that. He had her pretty well convinced that he was this righteous husband and father trying to do good, and I was the shit stain lowlife who kept dragging him into the criminal underworld. That couldn’t be further from the truth.”
“The information you stole. Where is it?” I asked, glancing around the trash heap he called home.
“Gone.”
“Gone? What do you mean by gone?” I tilted my head to the side. “You’re supposed to have it in your possession.”
Jessie looked at the door, trembling where he stood. He mumbled under his breath, then walked away.
I grabbed his arm. Jessie jerked it away, turned around, and threw a right cross at me. His fist connected with the side of my face, knocking me back on the heels of my feet. My head turned to the side, jaw throbbing from the blow.
He scampered away in a panic.
I rubbed my jaw and rushed after him. I tackled Jessie to
