“But then it will be too late.”
“Exactly.”
“Scott, please tell me what you’re planning.”
“Soon,” he said sternly. “You have to trust me.”
“I do, it’s just hard not knowing what’s going on.”
“You will. Be patient. I know exactly what I’m doing.”
* * *
Elizabeth could see Scott’s resolve. The operation had become personal, and she believed it was because of her. Jim had betrayed her, Dan had killed her partner and tried to frame her for his murder, and they both did Conchello’s bidding.
“Jack’s in the room,” Scott suddenly exclaimed, breaking into her thoughts. “Wait until you see him take this guy down. You won’t believe how fast he is.”
“I saw how fast you were,” she muttered, turning her eyes back to the phone.
Now bent over the coffee table, Ewen was placing the cash into a bag. Elizabeth watched, her heart in her mouth, as Jack crossed the room with quick, silent strides, suddenly swung sideways, and kicked Ewen in the small of his back. As he flew to the floor, Jack jumped on top of him, cuffed his wrists in an instant, then swiftly moving an arm around his neck, he fisted Ewen’s hair and jerked his head to the side.
“Wow, that was impressive,” Elizabeth muttered.
“I can snap your neck, or you can pay attention,” Jack snarled.
“Yeah, okay, fuck, I’m listening,” Ewen squeaked. “Who are you?”
“They always ask that,” Scott mumbled with a grin.
“The only person who can save your life… or end it,” Jack replied. “You were just videotaped. You’re looking at serious jail time.”
“Fuck.”
“Or, I can have convincing evidence planted in your home, then make an anonymous call to Conchello and tell him you’re working for the feds. When he catches you, and he will because I’ll make sure of it, you’ll be tortured before you’re killed. From what I’ve heard, he likes to use old-fashioned methods, like hot pokers, and—”
“What do you want?” Ewen asked urgently, cutting him off.
“We won’t be talking about that here. You’ll drink a little whisky to calm your nerves, then you and I will walk calmly down to my car. We’ll take a drive and have a chat. If you do anything, and I mean anything, to create a problem, I’ll make a call, and it won’t be long before you’ll be trying to explain yourself to Conchello. Are we clear?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Good, don’t move.”
“Scott, where’s he taking him?” Elizabeth asked, as Jack quickly gathered up the cash and dropped it into Ewen’s bag.
“He’ll be coming here.”
“Here?”
“Elizabeth, Jim Parker isn’t my only guest. David Clark is in another room, and when Ewen McDonald arrives, he’ll be joining him. If all goes well, Jim, Ewen, and David will all be playing a part to bring Conchello down.”
“What about Dickhead Dan,” she asked, a scowl crossing her forehead, “shouldn’t you grab him too?”
“He was a liability for Conchello, and he’d be a liability for us. He’ll be picked up by my people, and he may even have some information, but he’s a minor player.”
“A minor player? He killed Manny, and tried to—”
“I know,” Scott said quickly. “I mean, within Conchello’s organization. Ewen, Jim, and David are much bigger fish. Dan is an errand boy.”
“I still want to get my hands on him.”
“I’m sure you would, but this is how you deliver revenge, Elizabeth—cold, calculating, cunning. Raw emotion has no place. You turn your enemy’s lieutenants against him and let the battle commence.”
Chapter 17
Throughout the morning, Sonny’s mood had deteriorated.
He was now barely controlling his fury.
It had been several hours since he’d sent Ewen MacDonald to Dan Miller’s hotel room. In spite of leaving countless messages, Sonny still hadn’t heard from him.
David Clark was also MIA, and he’d learned Dan Miller had been picked up from the police station on St. Thomas by two men, but his source didn’t know anything about them.
The timing couldn’t be worse.
A group of VIP guests would soon be arriving for an important lunch. A sumptuous meal had been prepared, and a table laid out on a terrace overlooking the bay. He couldn’t cancel, nor did he want to. His personal banker, a financial advisor, and a lawyer would be joining him, along with the owner of an international property development company.
While anger walked hand in hand with Sonny, it was rare for him to feel unnerved, but those who worked for him answered when he called, and they sure as hell didn’t just suddenly stop communicating.
Something was horribly wrong.
“Excuse me, Mr. Conchello.”
Rosemary, the woman who hired and fired the servants, dealt with caterers, and made sure the house ran smoothly, stepped into the lavish living room. Sonny heard the distress in her voice. Turning to face her, he saw her brow furrowed in deep worry.
“Mr. MacDonald is downstairs in the servants’ quarters. He’s asking for you. I think you should—”
But Sonny was already striding past her.
Several full-time employees lived in the palatial home, and hurrying down the stairs, Rosemary running along behind him, he continued at a fast clip to the back of the house.
“He’s in the first bedroom, Mr. Conchello,” Rosemary called, still racing to catch up.
Bursting into the room, he found Ewen in the bathroom perched on the edge of the tub naked from the waist up. He was sporting a bloody nose and a black eye, and his grubby shirt and jacket were in a heap on the floor.
“Thank you, Rosemary,” Sonny said briskly as she was about to enter. “I’ll call you if we need you.”
“Yes, Mr. Conchello, I’ll be in the kitchen.”
“Hello, boss,” Ewen muttered.
Sonny didn’t respond, but moved closer to study Ewen’s face, then lowered his eyes to his body. A bruise was forming over his left shoulder and across his ribcage.
“What the fuck happened?”
“I was in Dan’s room searching. I’d found some cash, then—”
“How much?”
“Half a dozen rolls hidden in socks, and a kilo of coke in the back of the television set.”
“That’s the only money? There were no wads of bills with bands around
