"You're lying. John was making that up."
"There's the briefcase in my truck with something in it that John has had all these years that says I'm not lying and that he wasn’t making it up." Neeley squeezed tight on Hannah’s wrist. “You were angry about John leaving you, but understand he betrayed you when he met you by not telling you the truth about his past. Use that anger, work with it, because you need something to get you through this.”
The waitress appeared with the coffee pot.
Neeley let go of Hannah and pushed her hair from her face with impatience. Neeley waited until the waitress refilled their cups and was gone before continuing. "What we need is a plan, because everyone else is going to have one."
"Who is everyone else and just what's going on? For starters, who exactly are you?"
"First let's get you up to now," Neeley said. "You now know your husband was involved in something that forced his termination. The man that I spent the last ten years with was also involved and he sent me to John."
“This Gant fellow?” Hannah asked.
Neeley nodded.
"Where is Gant now?"
"He's dead."
"People seem to die around you a lot," Hannah said.
"Not just everyone around me. I'm dead too in a manner of speaking."
“Great. What did John mean?” Hannah pressed. “About Nero coming for me? Why would he come for me?”
Before Hannah could say anything else, Neeley interrupted. She had been looking past Hannah and now she shook her head. "See those two men who just pulled in to the parking lot?" Neeley inclined her head toward the glass.
Hannah could see two young men in dirty jeans and brown leather jackets climbing off large motorcycles. Both had beards and were not the type you wanted to run into in a dark alley or anywhere else for that matter. They were looking about. "Yes?"
"They're here for us," Neeley said.
"How do you know?"
Neeley smiled coldly. "Woman's intuition."
The two men sauntered to the door of the restaurant and walked in. One was tall, with long flowing dirty blond hair. The other's skull was shaved. The tall one looked about, then his eyes settled on the booth Neeley and Hannah were in.
"Just stay calm," Neeley said. "Let me handle this."
The men walked over, then slid onto the seats, pinning the women against the window. Tall blond was next to Neeley and the shaved head was next to Hannah.
"Can I help you?" Neeley said. She glanced out into the parking lot. There was a car parked, facing their window. The glass was dark but she could tell the engine was running by the exhaust coming out the tailpipe. It had pulled in right after the two motorcycles. She couldn't see the driver, just the form of someone sitting there, waiting.
"I like my woman big," Blondie said. "You like your men big?" He grabbed Neeley's left hand and pushed it into his crotch.
Neeley turned her attention back to the booth. Hannah was scrunched up as far as she could against the glass. The man next to her had his hands under the table. Hannah gasped and jerked further away as the man did something.
Neeley curled the fingers of her left hand and squeezed. "Not big enough, buddy boy."
Blondie gasped as he doubled over. "Ah shit!"
Neeley's Glock was out and pointing straight at Baldie. "You'd better have your hands on the table right now," Neeley said.
Blondie swung with his right arm and Neeley ducked the blow. She twisted her left hand and he screamed as his balls did a 180. The muzzle of the pistol hadn't wavered from between Baldie's eyes. "Put your hands on the table," Neeley ordered again.
Baldie did what he was told, a strange-looking knife with a notched point in his right hand. There was blood on the tip. Neeley rapped the muzzle of the gun against the side of Blondie's head and it thumped down on the table top.
Neeley could see the waitress on the phone. The cops would be here in a couple of minutes. She brought the gun back to bear on Baldie. "Who hired you?"
"Some guy."
"Bad description," she said, slamming the barrel down on top of his right hand. He screamed as bones broke. She looked at the parking lot. The car was pulling out.
"That him?"
Baldie was holding his wounded hand. "Yeah, some guy. That’s all I know. He had a lot of cash. Crazy dude with crazy eyes. You broke my hand you bitch!"
"Get out of the seat," Neeley said as she pivoted and used both her legs to push Blondie onto the floor. Baldie did as he was told.
"Let's go," Neeley said to Hannah who had remained frozen throughout the entire proceeding.
Hannah stirred. "I'm bleeding," she said, looking down at her left leg where blood was dripping down from a cut in her thigh, just above the knee.
Neeley tossed some napkins. "Use those." She stood. "On your face," Neeley ordered Baldie. He did as he was told and Neeley grabbed Hannah's arm, dragging her out of the restaurant.
They hustled to the truck and Neeley quickly drove out of the restaurant and onto the Interstate, heading back toward St. Louis.
Hannah finally spoke as they merged into traffic. "Who were they?"
"Some shitheads the man who shot up the house hired."
"Why?"
Neeley just stared. "Why do you think? To grab us, drag us some place quiet, and blow our brains out. Evidently he doesn't want a public spectacle that he’s involved in."
Hannah was holding the now red-soaked napkin to her thigh. "What about the gun battle at my house? That was pretty public."
Neeley shook her head and pointed behind them. "Not like that. And I think you were right — John talking forced the play at the house. Unless the Cellar called in a disposal unit and cleaned up your house, we're going to be fugitives soon. I can't go to the police but you still could. I don't know how much they'd believe and I can't guarantee someone from the Cellar won't show up with the proper papers and identification to take you away and nobody would ever see you again. We’ve stepped into some deep shit here, Hannah."
Hannah was starting to shake her head. So much for the eye of the storm. "I don't know who you are but don't leave me, OK? Let's just get out of here. There's got to be some place we can hide. Right now I feel like a bullet's going to punch me right between the eyes any second."
Neeley was trying to think. She hadn't thought they had been followed after picking up the truck, but obviously they had.
"That guy was a creep," Hannah said. "He was grabbing my leg. He jabbed me with his knife."
Neeley glanced over. There was definitely blood seeping through the napkins that Hannah was pressing against her skin. The wound was deeper than she had initially thought. Hannah was now wrapping a kerchief around the wound.
“Is it bad?" Neeley asked.
“Not too bad," Hannah replied as she tied off the cloth.
“We have to get rid of this truck," Neeley said. "There's got to be a bug in it somewhere and if we don't get rid of it, neither of us will live."
She saw what she was looking for. She slammed on the brakes and spun the wheel, turning onto the crossover. Tires squealing, she quickly drove up onto the westbound lanes.
Hannah made no comment on the move. Indeed, she didn’t react at all, other than to grip the door handle to keep steady during the turn. Her stillness was a bit disconcerting to Neeley, who, although she preferred it over panic, wasn’t sure what to make of the other woman. Neeley checked the mirror. No other car imitated the maneuver, but that wasn't much consolation.
CHAPTER 13
“John Masterson is dead," Nero's metallic voicebox grated the words out.
"Do you have his package?" Senator Collins asked. He hadn’t bothered to sit down since entering the room a minute ago. One of the lights over Nero’s head was out; making it look like a pair of headlights was over the old man. Collins wondered if the effect was deliberate or simply that no one had mentioned to the old man that the light bulb had burnt out.