“They had to have been Greco’s men, four big guys with guns. I think…I think I was shot.” My arm hurt so bad. Blood was running down my hand and dripping off my fingertips.
“Where are you?”
“Your mom’s bar.”
Romy spoke to someone who was there with him. Then he came back on the line and told me, “I’m on my way, and Mom’s dialing 911. Stay with me, Jack.”
“Okay.”
“Was Reno shot, too?”
I looked around and said, “The only blood I see is coming from me, so I don’t think so.”
“Where are you injured?”
“My arm. It really hurts.”
“Listen to me, Jack,” he said. “I need you to put pressure on the wound. Can you do that? Grab a towel or something and tie it around your arm if you can, or at least press it to the spot that’s bleeding. I’m going to be there in five minutes, and Mom says an ambulance is on the way.”
I struggled to my feet and mumbled, “Okay, I’m up and getting a towel. I hit my head, so everything’s kind of swirly. Hang on, I’m going to put you in my pocket while I go do this.”
I dropped the phone into the pocket of my suit jacket and clutched my injured arm as I made my way behind the bar. Once I found a dish towel, I sat down on the floor and wound it around my bicep. I had to use my teeth to cinch it, but I finally managed to get it tied.
That had taken a lot of effort, and I slumped against the shelves beneath the register. Then I noticed Reno had brought his laptop case with him. It was sitting open on one of the shelves, and his journal was sticking out.
As the sound of sirens became audible in the distance, something occurred to me. The cops probably weren’t going to be able to help Reno. If they knew where to find a criminal like Greco, wouldn’t they have done it already? Adriano’s men didn’t know where to find him, either.
So, maybe it was going to take someone more powerful, someone with better connections, who understood the workings of the criminal underworld.
I pulled the journal from the case and got blood all over the pages as I leafed through it. Finally, I found the information he’d gathered on the Dombruso family. There were addresses and phone numbers to go with most of the names.
I grabbed my phone, hung up on Romy, and dialed the first number on the page with shaking hands. It was for someone named Stana Dombruso. The note beside her name said, “Paulie’s mother.”
The room started spinning, and I pressed my eyes shut and tried to will myself to remain conscious as a recording played. It was a woman’s voice, but I was too out of it to pay attention. When I heard a beep, I said, “You don’t know me, but I’m Jack Granger, and I’m calling because of a man named Adriano Dombruso. I don’t think you know him either, but his dad was Paulie Dombruso. I don’t have much proof of that, except that Paulie left him a real nice watch, a platinum Rolex. The back was engraved with three initials in a diamond shape, P-D-A.
“I hope I’m making sense. I’ve been shot and I’m probably going to pass out soon, so it’s hard to think straight. The thing is, Adriano needs your help. He just got abducted by this awful gangster named Mario Greco, and he’s going to be killed if we don’t do something. We were at his mom’s bar when it happened. It’s called Mandy’s Place, and it’s here in Las Vegas.”
I paused for a moment and took a shaky breath before continuing. “I think the ambulance is pulling into the parking lot. The siren’s really loud. Please help us, Ms. Dombruso, I’m begging you. Don’t let Adriano die. I just can’t lose him. He means everything to me.”
Tears were streaming down my face as I clutched the phone and the journal to my chest. Right before I lost consciousness again, I whispered, “Please hang on, Adriano. Please, just stay alive.”
16
Jack
When I awoke sometime later, I knew right away I was in a hospital. I could tell by that horrible smell of disinfectant and misery. Fuck, I really hated these places.
I blinked a few times, and as my eyes started to focus I sat up and mumbled, “Adriano?” The dark-haired man sitting in the corner looked up from his magazine, and I slumped against the pillow and muttered, “You look so much like him. That’s really weird.”
As he set aside the magazine and stood up, I noticed he was wearing black-on-black, from his suit to his shirt to his tie. He looked…well shit, he looked like a mafioso. I sat up again and grabbed the first thing I could find. Then I held it up like I meant to hit him with it and snarled, “If you’re one of Greco’s men, you can fuck right off. I won’t let you take me prisoner, too.”
His dark eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled at me and asked, “What’s the plan here, to bludgeon me with a plastic bed pan?”
“If I have to.”
He chuckled at that. Then he ran a hand over his short beard as he studied me. “So, Jack, is it?”
“That’s right. Who the fuck are you?”