Клэр Донелли - Catch As Cat Can

“I’m her father,” Mike snapped.

Gun or no gun, Dad’s not about to roll over, Sunny thought, caught between pride and worry for her father. I just hope he doesn’t get himself hurt.

But Kilbane laughed at Mike’s feistiness. “Boy, you keep an eye on her, the cops keep an eye on her, it must be hell to date your daughter.” He poked them along up to the bow of the vessel, where Abby Martinson sat slumped behind the gunwales, silver duct tape wrapped around her wrists and ankles and forming a gag over her mouth.

Her eyes went wide when she saw Mike and Sunny, but all she was able to manage was a muffled “Mmmmmph!”

Yancey Kilbane tossed a roll of tape to Mike. “You see how it’s done,” he said, nodding toward the tied-up Abby. “Now do the same to your daughter.”

I’m getting heartily sick of duct tape, Sunny thought as Mike began to wrap the stuff around her ankles. She nervously licked her lips. Especially the taste.

“Look, Bear—Yancey. You have to realize you’re on borrowed time,” Sunny said as Mike finished with her wrists. Anything to keep from being gagged as well as helpless. “The police are on the way.”

“Kind of figured that, especially since you know my name.” Yancey took the roll of tape and motioned for Mike to lie down. “And you must have talked to your buddy Neil to turn up here. Why you jumped the gun before the cops arrived, I don’t know. But as long as Neil gets here before they come, I can do what I got to do. When I first arrived down here, it was just business as usual, a two-fer to cut out the competition. But now it’s a question of earning.” He shook his head, a greedy glitter in his eyes. “You won’t believe how much some mob guy out in L.A. will pay for a picture of good old Neil—dead and done.”

The sprouting, receding hair and the full beard certainly softened Kilbane’s image from the hard-faced biker in his mug shot. But obviously he’d abandoned whatever act he’d put on to win Jasmine’s heart as Bear. He efficiently trussed up Mike and then checked Sunny’s bindings to make sure they’d make her stay put. At least he didn’t gag them—yet. Apparently, he wanted some entertainment as he waited for Neil.

“So why did old Neil come and tell you about our little meeting? That’s a definite no-no.”

“He needed money,” Sunny lied easily. “He couldn’t get to his stash when the marshals dragged him off.”

“Yeah, Neil is all about the money. At least he was back when he was Nick. If you know about the marshals, then I guess you know he was Nick, too. Abby here was actually pals with him when he was Nick, back in California.”

Abby made another noise through her gag.

“I thought I’d blown my chance when I realized the cops were onto me.” Kilbane shook his head. “I got away from that old bartender broad I was squatting with before the big raid. But when I went looking, Neil’s shop was locked up, and his house was empty. Then I sat in a diner, reading this throwaway newspaper, and I saw a picture that looked familiar. It matched an actress’ head shot in this briefcase full of stuff on Neil that I—picked up.”

“From Phil Treibholz,” Sunny said. After you killed him, she silently added.

Kilbane shrugged. “He didn’t need it anymore. And it turned out to be useful. It put me on to Abby here. A nice, quiet town like this, I was able to find a home address for the Martinsons in the phone directory. Then all I had to do was watch until she took Mom’s car out for a spin.”

“After which you got in touch with Neil.”

“I found a couple of phones when I went through the detective guy’s pockets, getting rid of his ID. One was obviously a burner, a phone Tribe-whatever had picked up after he arrived here. And there was just one local number on it. Pretty easy to figure out. So I reached out and touched old Neil, told him his little friend here would be in deep trouble if he didn’t get his butt over here.”

Kilbane frowned. “Now I’ve got to wonder if you gave Neil enough money to skip town and leave me holding the bag here until the cops come.” The look on his face promised that no good would come of that.

Mike tried to get a look at his watch—impossible, with all that tape around his wrists. But Sunny understood his anxiety. Neil should be turning up soon, she thought, if he’s going to show up at all. Let’s face it, he doesn’t have a history of being a stand-up guy. Like Charlie Vane, he put on a big song and dance about being the victim of circumstances. Maybe he’d persuaded himself that this was just one more circumstance he couldn’t change and moved on.

She swallowed, hard. The police didn’t seem to be in any rush to put in an appearance, either.

Boy, wouldn’t it be ironic if we got ourselves killed trying to save Neil from doing one good deed in his life—because he decided not to do it after all?

A car came past the diner and rolled to a stop at the foot of the pier. The driver-side door opened, and Neil Garret stepped out. He squared himself up, but it was hard to look heroic in a cardigan sweater.

He must be freezing, Sunny thought. But then, she realized, he wouldn’t have been able to bring a coat along if he escaped by bailing out a bathroom window.

“Good old Neil.” Kilbane chuckled. “Somehow I knew I could depend on him.”

Sunny strained her ears. No sirens. No police. Kilbane was going to kill Neil, and then he would turn on the rest of them. Inconvenient witnesses. Collateral damage.

She twisted her wrists, testing the duct tape bonds. There was a little give—Mike had managed that much. But she didn’t think she’d be able to get free before this dirty business was all over.

Kilbane rose from behind the gunwale when Neil was about halfway down the pier. “Hey there, Neil, step right up,” he said.

Neil stopped. “Not until I see Abby.”

“Sure, buddy.” The biker leaned down and hauled Abby into view. “Here she is, alive and—well, not exactly kicking. But breathing.”

Neil took a few hurried steps forward, then stopped. “You’ve got to let her go. That was the deal.”

Kilbane brought up his gun. “It’s a little late to start negotiating, friend. She’ll go after we finish our business.”

Neil shook his head. “No. Before.” He managed a smile, even if it was more of a death’s-head grin. “Afterward, I don’t think I’ll be able to protect my interests.”

“Hey, look. I’ve got lots of hostages.” Kilbane hoisted Sunny and Mike to their feet.

While he was doing that, Neil suddenly ran forward.

“Everybody down!” Sunny yelled. She dropped to her knees as Mike and Abby went flat.

Neil brought up the gleaming gun he’d kept hidden behind his leg. Kilbane aimed his pistol. Their shots went off almost at the same time, a brutal blow to Sunny’s ears. The biker jerked a little, letting out a startled exclamation. But Neil was flung on his back, his borrowed gun clattering on the wooden planking.

Kilbane pocketed his pistol and brought a hand to his other arm, wincing a little. “Huh. Grazed me.”

Moving his injured arm carefully, he brought out a cell phone, transferred it to his good side, and raised it to take a picture. “There’s one. But I guess I should go for a little more insurance.”

He replaced the phone and got out his gun, carefully making his way to the dock. For a moment, he stood over Neil. “Head shot is sure, but that would mess up the picture.” Kilbane brought his pistol down, aiming for Neil’s chest.

“Police! Freeze!” a harsh voice shouted.

Kilbane twisted, snapping off a shot at the figure running up the pier.