“Gentlemen,” he said sternly, “y’all should know better than to be roaming this type of neighborhood in the middle of the night. Violence is pretty common here, and the idiot that told you to visit Sam’s shop at night should’ve known better. Y’all are lucky to be alive.”
Payne nodded his head in agreement as he walked toward the sergeant. “Thanks to you, we are. If you guys didn’t show up when you did, we would’ve been killed by the sniper for sure.”
“Don’t thank me,” admitted the cop. “Thank the person who called 911. He was the one that made us aware of the shooting.”
“Actually, I’d like to. Is the guy around?”
Rutherford shrugged while staring at the crowd that had gathered across the street. “Probably, but I don’t know where to find him. He used a pay phone to report the incident, but refused to leave his name.”
Jones smiled to himself, wondering if Levon Greene was the person who’d made the call. If he had, they probably owed the Buffalo Soldier their lives. “If you manage to find out who it was, thank him for us, okay?”
Rutherford shook Jones’s hand and smiled. “You got it.” Then he turned to shake Payne’s. “In the meantime, stay out of trouble, all right? Keep in mind if I hear your names mentioned at the station in connection with any other suspicious events during your vacation in New Orleans, I might be forced to reconsider your involvement. Do I make myself clear?”
Both men nodded even though they realized that their trouble was far from over.
In fact, it was just beginning.
CHAPTER 23
LIGHTNING
bolts. The pain felt like lightning bolts surging through her brain.
Ariane did her best to ignore it-tried to open her eyes, tried to fight through the jackhammer that thumped inside her skull-but the agony was overwhelming. God, she wondered, what’s wrong with me? She’d never felt this bad before. Ever. She’d suffered through hangovers, migraines, and a skiing accident that left her with a severe concussion, but in all her years, she had never come close to feeling like this.
Hell, it felt like she was giving birth through her nose. The pain was
that
intense.
To escape the pounding, Ariane was tempted to fall back asleep. She figured if she got a little more rest she’d have to feel a whole lot better than she did now. Then, if all went well, she’d roll out of bed like she had planned and whip Jonathon’s butt in a round of golf.
Golf? Wait a second. Something about that didn’t seem right. She tried to figure it out, struggled to put her snippets of memory together in an orderly fashion, but was unable to. She could vaguely remember waking up and brushing her teeth and getting a shower and . . . the door. Something about the door. She could remember someone pounding on her door.
Or was the pounding in her head?
Wow! She honestly didn’t know. The details were hazy, like a painful childhood incident that had suddenly crept back into her consciousness. Why couldn’t she remember the door? What was it about her door?
Ariane tried to open her eyes, fought to pry her lids apart, but the pain was too intense. Wave after wave crashed inside her head, causing her to lurch forward into the fetal position. As she did, the maelstrom surged toward her gut, inducing the worst muscle spasms of her life. To her it felt like her innards were exploding upward. Like her gallblad der, liver, and intestines were inching their way toward her mouth, swimming ever so slowly up the back of her throat on a viscous river of bile.
“What’s wrong with me?” she called out, hoping God would provide her with an answer.
“Shhh,” a motherly voice replied. “Just relax. The pain will soon pass. I promise.”
The sound of a strange voice sent shock waves through Ariane.
“Who are you?” she shrieked, now trying to open her eyes with twice the urgency of before. “What are you doing in my bedroom?”
The voice sighed at the query. “You’re not in your bedroom.”
That was news to Ariane. She honestly couldn’t remember leaving her apartment. “I’m not? Where am I, then? What’s wrong with me?”
“I’m not sure where we are. I wish I knew. And as to what’s wrong with you, you’re having a reaction to the drugs. But don’t worry, it’ll pass quickly.”
“Drugs?” Ariane mumbled.
“Yeah, sis, I said drugs.” The female paused to let the information sink in.
Sis
? Did she say
sis
? Why the hell would this person call her
sis
?
Oh, God! The reason suddenly dawned on her.
“Tonya? Is that you?”
Tonya Edwards looked down at Ariane and attempted to smile. “Of course it’s me-unless you have another sister that you’ve been hiding.”
“No, but . . .” The presence of her pregnant older sister only added to Ariane’s confusion. Tonya lived in Colorado. What in the world was she doing in Pittsburgh? “Why are you here? Is something wrong?”
It was the understatement of the year.
“Yeah, sis, I’d say something is wrong.”
Ariane swallowed, the bitter taste of bile still in her mouth. “Is it the baby?”
“The baby, Robert, you, me. Pretty much everything.” Tonya tried to lower herself to the floor, but her belly prevented it. “I’m not sure why, but our family’s been kidnapped.”
SLIGHTLY banged up but happy to be alive, the two friends walked to their rented Mustang in total silence. As they strolled past the ancient cemetery, Payne shuddered slightly, realizing how close he’d come to his own funeral. If the sniper had been a little more accurate, Payne and Jones would’ve been returning to Pittsburgh in wooden crates, not in the comfort of a private jet.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Jones said, studying his silent friend. “Are you all right?”
Payne nodded as he slid into the car. “As good as can be expected.”
After strapping himself in, Payne allowed his mind to drift back to the incident at the tattoo shop. Even though the shooting was unexpected, Payne knew that Ariane’s kidnappers were bound to become aware of his presence. But the big question was, how? How did they find out about him so quickly? Was there a spy at the airport? At the Fishing Hole? Or was the late-night gunplay an unlucky coincidence? Maybe Sam’s death had been ordered several days before, and the sniper just happened to show up at the same time they did. Sam was the first one eliminated, so maybe he was the number one priority of the hit. Maybe the Plantation Posse, or some unrelated gang, had been planning to silence him for an entirely different reason. Even though it seemed unlikely, it was a possibility.
Shit, in New Orleans, anything was possible. One trip to Mardi Gras would prove that.
“By the way,” Jones asked, “where are we going? Or are you planning on driving around this city until someone starts shooting at us again?”
“That’s not what I had in mind, but now that you mention it, that’s better than anything I can come up with.”
“Stumped already?”
“I wouldn’t say stumped, but I’m pretty confused. There are simply too many variables floating around in my mind right now. And I can’t figure out which ones are important.”
“I was thinking the same thing. There are lots of questions and very few answers.”
“You’re right about that. However, two things are bothering me more than anything else. I can’t figure them out for the life of me.”
“And they are?”
“Number one, if Ariane was kidnapped for money, why the hell would the Posse try to kill me? I’m the one with the bank account. Why eliminate me? My death would instantly take away their chance of a big payday.”