A Beautiful Funeral
Page 3
Hyde gently touched my forearm. “Sir, I’d like to take a look around first, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course,” I said, stepping aside.
Just two days ago, I would have been the one to sweep the house. I would have left Liis with the agents while I checked each room, closet, behind every door, and under every bed before I let my pregnant girlfriend enter. But now, my place was to stand next to her, protecting our daughter. Everything had changed in less than forty-eight hours.
Hyde unlocked the door and then drew her weapon. She held her Glock like it was an extension of her arm, walking through the front room so stealthily I couldn’t hear her footsteps.
“Was I that good?” Liis asked.
“Better,” I said.
“Don’t bullshit me, Maddox.”
“Never, Agent Lindy.”
After a few minutes, Hyde returned, holstering her sidearm. “All clear, sir.”
“Thank you,” I said, following Liis inside.
Liis took a deep breath as she crossed the threshold, already feeling more at ease. I carried Stella’s car seat into the nursery, setting it gently on the floor. Liis had decorated in grays, blue-grays, tans, and coral with not a bow or ballerina in sight. Liis was determined to keep Stella as gender-neutral as possible, even before she was born. An ivory upholstered rocking chair was in the corner next to the crib, a square pillow of a fox outlined in blue in the center.
I unbuckled Stella, lifted her limp body into my arms, and then lay her on her back in the crib. She looked so tiny within the walls of her brand-new bed.
Everything was new—the carpet, the Santa Fe-style rug, the five-by-seven portrait of a cartoon fox on the side table, the curtains, the paint on the walls. Until that moment, the room had been beautiful and pristine but empty. Now, it was filled with our love for the brand-new baby for whom the room belonged.
After staring at Stella for a moment, Liis and I traded glances.
“Now what?” she whispered.
I adjusted the nursery camera and signaled for Liis to follow me out into the hall. I shrugged.
She shrugged too. “What does”—she shrugged again—“this mean?”
“It means I don’t know. I was expecting chaos and crying when we got home. You know … all the horrible things you see in the movies.”
Liis smiled and leaned against the doorjamb. “She’s perfect, isn’t she?”
“I’ll reserve judgment until two o’clock this morning, or the first time she shits in my hand.”
Liis playfully elbowed me. I kissed her temple.
“I think I’ll lie down for a bit,” Liis said, reaching for the monitor.
I swiped it off the dresser first. “I’ve got it. You rest.”
She pushed up on the balls of her feet, kissed the corner of my mouth, and then touched my cheek. “I’m so happy, Thomas. I never thought I could feel like this. It’s hard to explain.”
I smiled down at her. “You don’t have to. I know just how you feel.”
Liis ambled down the hall to our bedroom, leaving the door cracked open about three inches.
I chuckled to myself as I headed to the kitchen, opening the dishwasher to unload the dishes Liis had just started when her water broke.
My cell phone buzzed in my pants pocket, and I fished it out, holding it to my ear. “Maddox.” I listened, walked over to the window, and moved the curtains to the side. My heart sank.
“You’re not serious,” I said. I listened as the director gave me instructions that made my blood run cold. “The plan is to let them shoot at me?”
“They’ve already taken a shot at Travis.”
“What? Is he okay?” I asked, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.
“Just grazed his shoulder and he’s a little banged up. They ran his car off the road.” The director cleared his throat, uncomfortable having to say his next words. “It was meant for Abby.”
I swallowed the bile that rose in my throat. “How do you know?”
“Travis was driving her SUV. Surveillance of all soft targets was in the shooter’s vehicle, including Abby.”
“By soft targets, you mean …”
“The members of your family, Thomas. I’m very sorry.”
I blew out a breath, trying to remain calm. If they had surveillance photos, the Carlisis had Travis figured out for a while. They’d been watching my family; close enough to photograph. That explained Travis’s interrogation in Vegas. What we thought was Travis somehow blowing his cover leading to an impromptu kidnapping and beating while they tried to get more intel was actually planned. “Have they been located?”
The director paused. “Travis’s SUV hit a tree at a high rate of speed. They came back to finish it, but they didn’t walk away. The Carlisi family is now three made men down. Bobby the Fish. Nikko the Mule. Vito Carlisi.”
“Benny’s son. That means the Carlisis only have two possible successors left.” Benny had seven children but only three sons. The oldest, Angelo, was the underboss, with the other two in line for the job. Benny was old school, and he’d passed onto his children and his crime family that only men could inherit his illicit empire. I was hopeful that if their attempts left them without a Carlisi underboss, everything Benny built would fall apart.
“Travis took care of it,” the director said.
“Of course, he did.” My muscles relaxed. What could have been a huge clusterfuck was actually falling in our favor. I should have known. Once someone takes a swing at Travis, he always made sure they wouldn’t do it again. Even if they were three of the Carlisi family’s best hitmen.
“The youngest of the Carlisi boys, Vincenzo, and two soldiers have been traced to a silver Nissan Altima. They’re headed your way now. They are likely aware of Vito’s death by now.”
“Coming here? Now?” I asked, looking back toward Stella’s nursery. “What about stray bullets? Ricochets? We’re going to let them do a drive-by in front of my home with my wife and daughter inside? This seems sloppy, sir.”
“Can you think of another plan in the next eight minutes?”
I frowned. “No, sir.”
“Hyde will have Liis and Stella secured in the back of the home with vests. This is our one chance. It’s up to you, of course, but—”
“Understood, sir.”
“You’re sure?”
“You’re right. It has to happen this way. It’ll buy us time.”
“Thank you, Agent Maddox.”
“Thank you, Director.”
The bedroom door cracked open, and from my peripheral, I could see Liis leaning against the doorjamb, holding her cell phone to her ear. They had called her, too.
“But we just … they can’t possibly know—” She sighed. “I understand. Of course, and I agree, but … yes, sir. I understand, sir.” She looked at me with tears in her eyes, clearing her throat before speaking again. “Consider it done, sir.”
The phone fell from her hand to the floor, and her eyes lost focus. I rushed across the room to cradle her in my arms. I meant to be gentle, but I knew I was holding her too tight.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” she said, her voice muffled against my chest. Her fingers dug into my back.
“If there was any other way,” I began.
“Travis is okay?” she asked. She had already been briefed, I was sure, but she needed to hear it from me. I wouldn’t sugarcoat it just because she was a new mother, and she knew it.
“Of course,” I said, stepping aside.
Just two days ago, I would have been the one to sweep the house. I would have left Liis with the agents while I checked each room, closet, behind every door, and under every bed before I let my pregnant girlfriend enter. But now, my place was to stand next to her, protecting our daughter. Everything had changed in less than forty-eight hours.
Hyde unlocked the door and then drew her weapon. She held her Glock like it was an extension of her arm, walking through the front room so stealthily I couldn’t hear her footsteps.
“Was I that good?” Liis asked.
“Better,” I said.
“Don’t bullshit me, Maddox.”
“Never, Agent Lindy.”
After a few minutes, Hyde returned, holstering her sidearm. “All clear, sir.”
“Thank you,” I said, following Liis inside.
Liis took a deep breath as she crossed the threshold, already feeling more at ease. I carried Stella’s car seat into the nursery, setting it gently on the floor. Liis had decorated in grays, blue-grays, tans, and coral with not a bow or ballerina in sight. Liis was determined to keep Stella as gender-neutral as possible, even before she was born. An ivory upholstered rocking chair was in the corner next to the crib, a square pillow of a fox outlined in blue in the center.
I unbuckled Stella, lifted her limp body into my arms, and then lay her on her back in the crib. She looked so tiny within the walls of her brand-new bed.
Everything was new—the carpet, the Santa Fe-style rug, the five-by-seven portrait of a cartoon fox on the side table, the curtains, the paint on the walls. Until that moment, the room had been beautiful and pristine but empty. Now, it was filled with our love for the brand-new baby for whom the room belonged.
After staring at Stella for a moment, Liis and I traded glances.
“Now what?” she whispered.
I adjusted the nursery camera and signaled for Liis to follow me out into the hall. I shrugged.
She shrugged too. “What does”—she shrugged again—“this mean?”
“It means I don’t know. I was expecting chaos and crying when we got home. You know … all the horrible things you see in the movies.”
Liis smiled and leaned against the doorjamb. “She’s perfect, isn’t she?”
“I’ll reserve judgment until two o’clock this morning, or the first time she shits in my hand.”
Liis playfully elbowed me. I kissed her temple.
“I think I’ll lie down for a bit,” Liis said, reaching for the monitor.
I swiped it off the dresser first. “I’ve got it. You rest.”
She pushed up on the balls of her feet, kissed the corner of my mouth, and then touched my cheek. “I’m so happy, Thomas. I never thought I could feel like this. It’s hard to explain.”
I smiled down at her. “You don’t have to. I know just how you feel.”
Liis ambled down the hall to our bedroom, leaving the door cracked open about three inches.
I chuckled to myself as I headed to the kitchen, opening the dishwasher to unload the dishes Liis had just started when her water broke.
My cell phone buzzed in my pants pocket, and I fished it out, holding it to my ear. “Maddox.” I listened, walked over to the window, and moved the curtains to the side. My heart sank.
“You’re not serious,” I said. I listened as the director gave me instructions that made my blood run cold. “The plan is to let them shoot at me?”
“They’ve already taken a shot at Travis.”
“What? Is he okay?” I asked, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.
“Just grazed his shoulder and he’s a little banged up. They ran his car off the road.” The director cleared his throat, uncomfortable having to say his next words. “It was meant for Abby.”
I swallowed the bile that rose in my throat. “How do you know?”
“Travis was driving her SUV. Surveillance of all soft targets was in the shooter’s vehicle, including Abby.”
“By soft targets, you mean …”
“The members of your family, Thomas. I’m very sorry.”
I blew out a breath, trying to remain calm. If they had surveillance photos, the Carlisis had Travis figured out for a while. They’d been watching my family; close enough to photograph. That explained Travis’s interrogation in Vegas. What we thought was Travis somehow blowing his cover leading to an impromptu kidnapping and beating while they tried to get more intel was actually planned. “Have they been located?”
The director paused. “Travis’s SUV hit a tree at a high rate of speed. They came back to finish it, but they didn’t walk away. The Carlisi family is now three made men down. Bobby the Fish. Nikko the Mule. Vito Carlisi.”
“Benny’s son. That means the Carlisis only have two possible successors left.” Benny had seven children but only three sons. The oldest, Angelo, was the underboss, with the other two in line for the job. Benny was old school, and he’d passed onto his children and his crime family that only men could inherit his illicit empire. I was hopeful that if their attempts left them without a Carlisi underboss, everything Benny built would fall apart.
“Travis took care of it,” the director said.
“Of course, he did.” My muscles relaxed. What could have been a huge clusterfuck was actually falling in our favor. I should have known. Once someone takes a swing at Travis, he always made sure they wouldn’t do it again. Even if they were three of the Carlisi family’s best hitmen.
“The youngest of the Carlisi boys, Vincenzo, and two soldiers have been traced to a silver Nissan Altima. They’re headed your way now. They are likely aware of Vito’s death by now.”
“Coming here? Now?” I asked, looking back toward Stella’s nursery. “What about stray bullets? Ricochets? We’re going to let them do a drive-by in front of my home with my wife and daughter inside? This seems sloppy, sir.”
“Can you think of another plan in the next eight minutes?”
I frowned. “No, sir.”
“Hyde will have Liis and Stella secured in the back of the home with vests. This is our one chance. It’s up to you, of course, but—”
“Understood, sir.”
“You’re sure?”
“You’re right. It has to happen this way. It’ll buy us time.”
“Thank you, Agent Maddox.”
“Thank you, Director.”
The bedroom door cracked open, and from my peripheral, I could see Liis leaning against the doorjamb, holding her cell phone to her ear. They had called her, too.
“But we just … they can’t possibly know—” She sighed. “I understand. Of course, and I agree, but … yes, sir. I understand, sir.” She looked at me with tears in her eyes, clearing her throat before speaking again. “Consider it done, sir.”
The phone fell from her hand to the floor, and her eyes lost focus. I rushed across the room to cradle her in my arms. I meant to be gentle, but I knew I was holding her too tight.
“I can’t believe this is happening,” she said, her voice muffled against my chest. Her fingers dug into my back.
“If there was any other way,” I began.
“Travis is okay?” she asked. She had already been briefed, I was sure, but she needed to hear it from me. I wouldn’t sugarcoat it just because she was a new mother, and she knew it.
