They wasted no time in letting Hobbs know exactly why he was there.
“Mario, this man here decided it was a good idea to tell your family business to his piece of ass,” Rinaldo said to his bodyguard. “What do you think of that?”
“I think he’s an inconsiderate man,” Mario said sternly.
I didn’t really care for the games at this point. They were both going to have to die, and we all knew it. I never understood dragging it all out for the dramatic effect. Wasn’t that the same sort of mentality that always screwed up the comic book villain’s plans?
They went back and forth between berating him and administrating a little light torture until Steven was blubbering about how he didn’t know anything about her. He went from defending her to accusing her in a short amount of time, and she struggled against her tied hands and gagged mouth as he told them everything she had said and done.
She used him to get information about Moretti’s movements and gave that information back to Greco, who just waited for the proper time to use the information to eliminate the competition and take over his businesses. Fortunately for Rinaldo, I had been there to stop it from happening.
“She was nice to me!” Steven finally cried out as Kramer broke another knuckle.
Terry laughed.
“I believe Mario would like to take care of this man himself, Evan,” Rinaldo said.
“Yes, sir,” I replied.
“I could help–” Terry started to say, but Moretti interrupted him.
“Shut up, Terry,” he said softly.
At least Terry had the good sense to listen.
Mario hauled Steven up by the back of his collar and hauled him out of the small office. Terry followed, leaving Rinaldo in the room with me and the girl tied to the chair.
“Mister Arden,” Rinaldo said quietly. He waved a hand over at Nina. “Would you finish up please? Not here, though – this place is a bitch to clean.”
“Yes, sir.”
Nina’s eyes were big as I hauled her up out of the chair. Comprehension was washing over her face, and if she hadn’t known who I was before, she definitely knew me now. Whether by name or not, she knew who I was to Rinaldo and his organization.
Still in shock, she barely struggled as I hauled her out of the little garage office and back to her car. She did whimper a bit as I opened the trunk and shoved her inside, but I couldn’t blame her for that. It was the last ride of her life after all.
I turned off the radio as I drove down to the water. It was late, and there wasn’t much traffic as I crossed the West Grand Avenue Bridge and then drove down a side street. It was a short trip, and I didn’t want to listen to half a song. I pulled into a little drive area with a big sign that said the area was under twenty-four hour surveillance.
Sometimes they just made it easy.
I barely had to aim since I had shot out this particular camera so many times. It shattered into pieces all over the asphalt as I got back into the car and headed to the parking lot just south of the bridge. I pulled up close to the building and parked in the shadows.
Nina struggled as I pulled her out of the trunk and onto her feet. She didn’t come close to breaking away from my grip, and I wasn’t sure where the hell she thought she was going to go, anyway. The building was inaccessible, and there was nothing here but gravel and the edge of the river. Even if she did make it the full five-hundred yards and over the fence without me catching her – which she wouldn’t – what was she going to do? Hide in one of the nearby ocean containers?
My grip on her upper arm tightened, and I hauled her down to the edge of the water. There was a ledge between the building and the water where boats could come up and exchange supplies if any of that shit still happened today.
“Please…please don’t,” she begged. Her nails dug into my knuckles, which stung a bit.
I didn’t answer her; I wasn’t really listening. I’d heard it all before – the pleas, the promises – they meant nothing to me. I had a job to do, and I was going to do it. Nothing she said was going to make any difference in the outcome.
“Go on,” I said. I gave her shoulder a little push ahead and got her walking while I followed closely behind. I wanted her under the bridge where it was darkest. If someone did happen to hear the shot, I didn’t want to be visible from Chicago Avenue. She tripped over the asphalt once in her high heels, but I kept a hold of her so she wouldn’t fall onto the concrete.
No reason to die with skinned knees.
“Why? Why?” she asked over and over again.
As if she didn’t know.
We made it to the spot on the ledge in the combined shadow of two buildings and a roadway. I positioned her close to the edge, where there was less than a ten foot drop into the river. She looked over the edge and into the water, turned around, and dropped in front of me. She reached out to me with her hands, like she was trying to reach the hand of some god she saw in my eyes.