Читать книгу Colby Core - Debra Webb - Страница 9

New Orleans, 8:25 a.m.

This was going to hurt.

Wrists bound above his head and feet swinging several inches above the concrete floor, Riley braced for the coming pain.

Brooks shoved the paddle against Riley’s abdomen. Electricity roared through his body. His muscles convulsed. His teeth clenched.

“You still sticking to your story?” Brooks demanded. “Don’t have anything else to share?”

Riley struggled to catch his breath. “I’ve told you all there is to tell.” His muscles burned. His shoulders throbbed with the effort of supporting his full body weight. His jaws ached from clenching his teeth. “I just want to keep my job and stay out of prison.”

Brooks thrust the paddle at him again.

Riley’s body shuddered. Fire seemed to ignite across his skin. His stomach clenched.

“Just kill him and get it over with,” Howard suggested. “This is a waste of time.”

Brooks laughed. “I’m not done yet.” He reached toward Riley once more.

“Wait!” Riley heaved a halting breath. “Wait,” he muttered.

The smile on Brooks’s face spread into a spiteful grin. “I thought you might change your mind.”

Riley had held up through more than an hour of physical torture. He could have tolerated more, but the end result would have been the same. Death. These guys had no intention of allowing him to stay alive.

He had nothing to lose by going with Tessa’s suggestion. If it was a setup, made no difference. At this point he was dead anyway.

“Renwick was behind the ambush in Alabama,” Riley muttered. The aftereffects of the shock treatments were making his body tremble. “He tipped off the feds. One of the feds passed along the tip to a friend in Chicago.”

“What friend in Chicago?” Howard demanded, skeptical.

Riley lolled his head back long enough to draw in a deep breath, then met the man’s gaze. “I don’t know. Some P.I. Doesn’t matter. It’s the feds that’s on your back now. Renwick thought they would take down your organization. He was ticked off when the operation failed. He wants to be number one.”

Brooks made a slow circle around Riley. “What do you know about Renwick?”

Riley didn’t have a lot to go on. He’d just have to wing it. “I know he wants you and your boss to go down. That’s what I know.”

Howard and Brooks blasted the air with expletives, then Howard said, “You think telling us this is going to save your butt?”

Well, so much for that plan. “Do what you gotta do, man,” Riley said, feigning defeat. “I’m telling you that the feds are the least of your problems. Renwick is hell-bent on coming out on top, which means you have to go down.”

“If that bastard knows what’s good for him,” Brooks snarled, “he’d better stay in his own territory.”

Riley licked his cracked lips, tasted the blood. His jaw wasn’t broken but it had taken another beating. “I think he’s planning a takeover of your territory.” That was a shot in the dark. Judging by the fury that claimed both men’s faces, he’d hit the target.

“The SOB has a death wish,” Howard growled. He eyed Riley a long moment. “What exactly were Renwick’s orders? I can’t see him trusting an operation this big to one guy. Especially one like you.”

“My job was to get in,” Riley said. “Get the layout of your headquarters and find out what you had on the schedule for the next couple of weeks.”

“Too bad—” Howard moved in close to Riley “—you failed.”

Riley breathed a chuckle. “Two out of three ain’t bad.”

The muzzle of a weapon bored into the soft underside of his chin. “How,” Brooks asked, his voice riddled with anger and scorn, “are you supposed to pass along information? Is there a tracking device?” He sneered. “I know you don’t want us to start searching the only logical places.”

Riley definitely wasn’t game for a cavity search. “He knows what you lost in the ambush and that I’m in New Orleans to make contact. That’s it.”

Howard shook his head at his pal. “He’s lying. No way Renwick sent him to us without a tracking device.” He shifted his attention to Riley. “All we have to do is find it.”

“I swear,” Riley urged, “the only tracking device I had was in the heels of my boots. You dumped those last night, with the rest of my clothes, in the parking lot at that bar.”

“Get the Master.”

Howard glared at Brooks. “We can handle this.”

Brooks shook his head. “Get him. Now.”

Howard glared a bit longer at the man who was obviously his superior before following the order. Riley relaxed as best he could considering he hung like a side of beef from the hook in the ceiling.

Tessa had given him an out. What did that mean? Was she truly a captive? Even after all these years? Had she intended to help him? Maybe this whole thing was a sham of some kind. A game she had initiated. Who knew how warped her mind might be after spending nearly half a dozen years with these sickos.

Brooks crossed his arms and stared at Riley. Riley ignored him. Instead, he focused on what he needed to accomplish his mission. The Master’s identity. If no one called or knew his name, then a DNA sample would be necessary—assuming he was in the system. Prints might serve the purpose. Riley needed as much information about the organization’s operation as possible. Tessa may or may not have some knowledge of how things worked.

And he needed to get her and any other captives away from here.

Away from the lunatic who called himself the Master.

Footfalls on the stairs drew Riley’s attention there.

“Now we’ll see how much longer you’ll keep breathing,” Brooks warned.

The Master, wearing his high-class designer suit, descended the final step. He studied Riley for a time before moving toward him.

He stopped a few feet away. “Renwick sent you, did he?”

Riley’s tension ratcheted a little higher. “Yes.” He infused all the humility and desperation he could summon into the single word.

“How is my old friend Renwick?”

Trick question. “I wouldn’t know,” Riley said, suppressing a grimace. His hands and arms had gone completely numb. “My only contact was with Phipps.” He looked the Master straight in the eyes. “You know, tall, thin guy with red hair. He provided my orders.”

“Which were,” the Master pressed.

“To infiltrate your organization and gather intelligence about your upcoming operations.”

The silence that followed had Riley holding his breath.

“Was that the extent of your orders?” Masters demanded.

“I can’t tell you what was said word for word,” Riley confessed. “If there’s anything else, I can’t call it to mind just now.” He glanced up at his bound hands. “This isn’t exactly conducive to brain power.”

“We should just gut ‘em,” Howard suggested. “He’s a waste of time.”

The Master stared at the much shorter man until he visibly cowered, before shifting his attention back to Riley. “Cut him down.”

Brooks and Howard exchanged a look of surprise. “What’re we doing with him?” Brooks wanted to know.

“I haven’t decided,” the Master said as he returned to the staircase. He paused before taking the first step. “Feed him and get him properly attired.”

The man in charge climbed the stairs, leaving Riley in the capable hands of his colleagues. Just his luck.

“This makes no sense,” Howard growled. He glared at Riley. “I think you’re bluffing.”

Riley didn’t bother arguing with him.

“Cut him down,” Brooks snapped. “That’s what the Master said.”

Howard grumbled the entire time but he did as he was told. He climbed onto a stepladder and cut the ropes. Riley attempted to land on his feet but his knees buckled and he crumpled to the floor.

Howard kicked him. “Get up.”

When Riley had gotten to his feet, Howard shoved him toward the stairs. Brooks had already taken that route. As Riley climbed the steps the circulation returned to his arms, but his hands were still tightly bound and totally numb.

At the top of the stairs, Howard pushed him to the left and to another staircase. “Up,” he ordered.

Riley climbed to the second floor. He took in as many of the details as possible in the short time it took to reach the door Howard directed him to. Long corridor, five doors. He hadn’t encountered anyone else. Riley wondered where Tessa was. And why she’d decided to help him.

Every action was propelled by a motive. What was hers?

Howard opened the door and shoved him into the room. “Take a shower. You stink.”

Riley held out his bound hands. “Be kind of hard to do.”

Howard pulled out his pocketknife and cut the bindings, then palmed his weapon. “Make one wrong move,” he cautioned, while Riley rubbed at his wrists, “and I will kill you.” Then he slammed the door, leaving Riley alone in the large bathroom.

Serviceable fixtures. Clean enough. He grabbed a towel from the shelf and slung it over the shower curtain rod and turned on the tap. A glance in the mirror confirmed that he had a swollen jaw, black eye and more than one split in his lips. He shook it off, refusing to let the pain steal his focus.

Once the coveralls were off, he kicked them aside and climbed into the shower.

He stood for a while with the warm water washing over his sore face and shoulders. There were no answers for additional questions. Whatever this Master had in mind for him, Riley had given him all he had. All Tessa had given him. But he had bought some time.