“Well, what part have you played in this?” Nick flashed the blade. “Attempted kidnapping. Twice. We know that much.”
“I . . . I . . .”
“He needs some encouragement,” Beck said.
Rixey nodded. “He does, doesn’t he? Slide his hand over here.”
“What?” Tyrell screeched. “Okay, okay, I was in her house.”
“What were you looking for?” Nick asked, whipping the blade against Tyrell’s throat and wanting to spit in his face. Put a gun in the hand of a guy like this, he was tough shit. Strip him of it, and he was a big fucking sissy.
“I don’t know. I was just told to toss the place. Me and one other guy. We was just there to do the damage.”
“But there was someone else looking for something.”
“Above my pay grade, man. I swear.”
Fine. Probably true. Nick changed tactics. Just for the fun of seeing fear cloud Tyrell’s eyes like it had Becca’s. Nick moved the knife. This time, down to dig right into his navel. “Where’s Charlie?”
Tyrell shook his head against the deck. “I’m not sure.”
Nick dragged the guy’s beefy hand in front of him, held his wrist tight against the deck, and wedged the edge of the blade under his pinkie nail. “Where’s Charlie?” he said again, voice deadly even.
Tyrell grimaced. “I don’t know. I don’t know.”
“Not good enough.” Nick exerted enough pressure to inch the blade under the nail. Tyrell gritted his teeth and tried to hold in his reaction, but the nail was beginning to separate from the skin. Blood slowly pooled.
“He was at a storage facility,” he nearly screamed.
Now we’re getting somewhere. Jackwad had no way of knowing they’d already found the facility he referred to. Nick withdrew the knife. Jesus, didn’t take much to make him squeal, did it? “Explain. Do it right the first time or I’ll rip the nail right off. And I won’t stop there.”
“They were holding him at a storage facility. But I heard they were gonna move him. Okay?” he blurted out.
“Move him where? And when?”
Tyrell whimpered.
“Screw the nails. I’m going for the whole finger. That’s what you did to Charlie, right?” Nick pushed his weight down on the back of Tyrell’s hand and pressed the blade into the little space where the finger met the knuckle joint.
Tears leaked from the asshole’s eyes. Seriously? This was the kind of douchebag terrorizing Baltimore’s streets. Just a big fucking bully.
“I heard . . . I heard . . .” he gasped. “Sometime today. Company’s com-coming who wants to see him.”
“Moving him where?” Rixey exerted a little more pressure on the blade. It was clear the threat of violence was enough with this guy. Didn’t do a lot to assuage the vengeance Rixey wanted to rain down on him for the bruises he’d put on Becca’s beautiful body, though.
“That’s all I know. Moving him to see some BFD company boss wants to impress. And I don’t know who the company is. Been real hush-hush. I swear.”
That shit didn’t sound good at all. Who the hell from outside Church’s organization would want to talk to Charlie? And why?
“I forget anything?” Rixey scanned over his team. Negative reactions all around. “I think we’re ready to take out the trash, then. Hey, Capitán?” he yelled to Miguel.
“Yo!” Miguel said.
“What kind of water temperatures we got out here this time of year?”
“Aw, damn. High forties, low fifties at best.”
Nick shook his head. “Well, shit, Tyrell. I dump you out here like I want, you’ll be hypothermic in an hour.”
Tyrell’s eyes rolled back until only the whites showed. “No, no drowning. Man, please.”
“What exactly are you going to do to make it worth my while to leave you alive? Because I don’t want to have to fucking deal with you again. You understand me?” Nick planted the business end of the knife into the soft skin under his jaw.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ll stay away. No more. I’m out.”
Nick nodded to Marz. “Well, just to make sure that’s true, why don’t you show Hollywood here that you could make him a star?”
Marz turned the phone around, a moving picture of the guy blubbering about Charlie’s location playing on the screen.
“I even think I’ve seen you. We even run into each other at the grocery store. Just once. And I’ll make sure Jimmy Church gets a copy of this. Understood?”
Sniveling now, Tyrell nodded.
“Find us a drop-off, Capitán,” Rixey called over a sudden gust of wind. The boat came around, causing Nick to slide on his knees. Beck grabbed his arm until he regained his balance. Rixey gave him a nod, digging how slowly but surely the team was coming back into itself.
The coordinated response to the unexpected development of Tyrell’s buddies showing up was a perfect example. From their appearance until Nick had this shithead on the ground was about ninety seconds. About forty-five seconds too long for him, given what had happened to Becca. But it was almost like the team had picked up where it had left off. Except for their six missing brothers. That shit could never be made right.
“ETA five minutes,” Miguel called. Hanging onto the railing, Becca made her way back to her seat.
“Roger that.” Soon the roar of the engines dulled and the boat slowed, allowing the waves to rock the boat more than they had at higher knots. Nick stood, saw where they were, and grinned under the mask. Priceless. A man-made hexagonal island in the middle of the bay, not far from the mouth of the harbor. He gave a thumbs-up. “Masks in the rear,” he called.
Easy slipped his on in one smooth motion, while Miguel fumbled with his for a minute.
When they were all secure except for Becca—whose appearance the banger unfortunately already knew—Rixey hauled him off the floor with the guys’ help. “Okay, Tyrell. We’ll get you as close as we can, and you can attempt to jump to dry land. Worst-case scenario, you get a little wet, but you’ll survive. Ride’s over.”
“What? You can’t leave me out here.” His expression was almost cartoonlike with disbelief.
“I can do anything I want.” Nick shoved him to starboard.
Miguel guided the boat in close to the wall, but he had to stay about three feet off to keep from getting pushed into it by the waves.
“Off you go,” Rixey said, regret that he couldn’t rid the world of scum like this once and for all feeling like a rock in his stomach. But even though they no longer wore the uniform, they couldn’t go total vigilante without risking the loss of a vital part of themselves—the guiding principle of doing the right thing. In this situation, the right thing just happened to require some questionable means. He didn’t relish that fact, but there it was.
Tyrell stepped up onto the boat’s wide ledge. “Fuck,” he yelled, and jumped.
Miguel didn’t need to be told to gun it. He got underway again before any other boaters happened by.
“I’ll fucking kill you!” Tyrell roared from the retaining wall of the small island.
Nick laughed and waved a hand. And then they were hauling ass back to shore.
“What say I call the harbormaster and let them know Becca’s attacker’s waiting out at Fort Carroll Light?” Miguel asked.
“Roger that,” Nick said, tugging off his mask. Everyone followed suit. Nick squeezed by Beckett, slipped down the side of the cockpit, and stepped in front of Becca’s tall chair. Hair windblown, cheeks flush, eyes wide, she was so fucking beautiful it hurt.
Those baby blues glassed over and she threw her arms around his neck. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry about this morning.”
Aw, shit. Relief nearly took him to his knees. His arms came around her. “Sshh, sunshine. You don’t owe me an apology. If anything, I’m the one who should be saying I’m sorry.”