The hunt, p.6
The Hunt, page 6
“Little.”
“I’ll get the doctor.”
“No.” I shook my head. I was tired of being out of it. “No.” I closed my eyes. It was a strain to keep them open. “How long have I been here?”
“Five days. Wow, you sound much better.”
I did sound better. I could talk in full sentences. “Juleen is okay?”
“She’s doing fine. She’s safe. She’s with Gabe. Do you remember Gabe visiting you?”
“No.”
“He’s going to Japan tomorrow. His agent got him an Asia tour. I told him to take it. I know he’ll want to see you.” A pause. “It’s midnight.”
“Don’t wake him.” I felt his hand on my cheek. His touch was delicate. “I’m tired.”
“I’m happy to see you, Terry.”
Tears in my eyes, I turned my head away from him.
“I’m going to get the doctor. I want him to see you awake, okay?”
“Okay.”
He took his hand away and I heard him leave.
Awake, I could feel waves of pain—sometimes it was acute, sometimes it was a throbbing pulse. It didn’t feel good, but it was tolerable. A minute later, I heard two men come in. I opened my eyes. The stranger introduced himself as Drew Jamison.
“How are you?”
“Passable.” My speech was funny sounding but understandable. “What are my vitals?”
“Your vitals?”
“She’s an ER doctor,” Chris told him.
“Your vitals are fine. Your temperature is back to normal.”
I had had an infection, then. Not surprising, considering what I went through.
He said, “Your creatinine levels are still high.”
“Rhabdo.”
“Yes, but they’re starting to come down. I’m hoping to take the catheter out soon. Once you can drink and pee on your own, I can send you home in a day or two.”
Home. Where exactly was home now?
“You know your jaw is wired.”
“Yes.”
“You can drink from a straw. I’ll start you on liquids. But you’re going to have to drink tons and tons of water to get rid of the excess protein in your urine.”
“I know.” I sighed. “I’m tired.”
“I understand. I’ll set up to remove the catheter. Once that’s gone, you should try to walk. I can order a physical ther—”
“I’ll help her,” Chris said. “I’ll have to do it when I get her home anyway.”
I guess home for the time being was with him.
“It might be good to have a physical therapist just to see how it’s done, sir.”
“Whatever.”
I recognized the annoyed sound in his voice. Chris did not like help.
The doctor said, “I’ll order that for tomorrow. I guess tomorrow is today.”
Chris said, “Anything else you need, baby?”
I said, “I’m in some pain.”
“As you probably know, most of the regular painkillers are renal toxic,” the doctor said. “How about tramadol?”
“Low dose.”
“You get sick from it?”
“A little. Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome. Good to see you talking, Doctor. Take care.”
“Sure.” I let out a big sigh. It hurt my ribs. I opened my eyes and strained to look at my ex-husband. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be silly.” Chris took my right hand and kissed my fingers. “Can I sign your cast?”
“Draw a picture.”
“I can do that.” A megawatt smile. “What do you want?”
“You choose—G-rated, please.”
“Spoilsport.” He took out a pen from his jacket pocket. “How about a unicorn?”
“Unicorn?”
“Yeah, don’t girls like unicorns?”
“I’m a woman.”
“Women like money. Want me to draw a wad of cash?”
I felt myself smile. “Unicorn.”
“I thought so.” He gently stretched my right arm and started sketching. I couldn’t see what he was drawing, so I closed my eyes again.
He went silent. Then he said, “Do you remember what happened?”
“Dribs and drabs.”
“Any idea who did it?”
I could feel emotion get stuck in my throat as I thought of my son. “Probably Devek.” I paused to find my voice. “He wasn’t there when it happened.”
“How do you know?”
“I didn’t … sense him.”
“Did you recognize who was there?”
“No.” Again the tears. “Does it matter? My son is gone.”
We didn’t talk. Chris kept drawing. I could feel scratches on the cast. About two minutes later, he let go of my arm. “What do you think?”
I labored to open my wet eyes. It was a very cute unicorn with a big smile on his face. “Nice.”
“I was thinking of giving him a cute little hard-on—”
“Stop it—”
“That’s why he’s smiling.”
“Same Chris.”
“Yeah, I haven’t changed.” He stroked my upper arm. “I’m still compulsive, aggressive, dominant, controlling, and addicted to sex. I hate to be told no, and because of what I built I don’t hear it very often.”
“I’m happy for you.”
“Are you?”
I closed my eyes. “Yes. Truly.”
He said, “I haven’t changed … but I am older. At forty-four, I try to think before I react. Being sober helps.”
“I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you.” A pause. “What about you? Have you changed?”
“I don’t know.” I was completely demoralized. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t need to change,” he told me. “In my eyes, you were always perfect.”
“Thanks, but we both know that’s not true.”
Please make him stop. I can’t go into this now.
“You look tired, baby.”
“A little.”
“Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.” A pause. “Your worst nightmare, huh?”
“Not at all.” I had already gone through my worst nightmare. Even dealing with Chris was a cakewalk in comparison. My eyes turned wet once again. “Not at all.”
He dabbed my puffy cheeks with a tissue. “I’ll keep you safe, angel. You and your daughter. I promise.”
“Thank you.”
“Heal up and get some sleep.”
I didn’t argue. Even if I wanted to, arguing with him was fruitless. His MO. He could be utterly beguiling, then turn fierce in a toe tap. And he would turn: a matter of when, not if. I had left him for another man. The reality of it was I hadn’t left him for another man. I had left him for the baby who just happened to be fathered by another man. Chris might overlook some things, but not that.
No, not that.
CHAPTER 4
IT WAS PENDERGAST who got the buzz to come to the hospital. He was older than most of the bodyguards and a crack shot; Donatti had employed him from the beginning, almost ten years ago. As he waited for the man to show, Donatti took out the two foreign phones he’d confiscated from Terry and the girl five days ago. He had the chargers—he was smart enough to bring those—but he didn’t have the adapters from the Indian plugs to American electrical sockets. Terry probably had one in her purse, but the purse was in his room, and he was the only one who had access to his personal space. No one could break into the room even if they wanted to. It was built like a bank vault. Donatti even had a bank vault inside. A bank vault in a bank vault. Terry would be the exception. He’d keep her there because it was secure, and he needed her safe when he wasn’t with her. And it was the one place where he could be completely alone with her.
The phones had been off all this time. Maybe they still had some juice. While he waited for backup, he thought about a lot of things, his opposite emotions waging war. On one hand, he was deliriously overjoyed to have her back in his possession. On the other hand, he was still enraged at her.
At forty-four, I try to think before I react.
His phone buzzed. Donatti pushed the button. A voice said, “I’m here, boss.”
“I’ll come get you.”
He walked out of Terry’s hospital room—there were only ten beds—past the treatment room, and out the double doors into the hallway. Pendergast was about six even with a stocky build and big arms. Donatti often saw him reading in the staff dining hall on his off-hours, sipping coffee and engaged in the classics. He motioned to him with a crooked finger, took him through the medical maze until they reached Terry’s room.
“I’ll be in my office upstairs. If something comes up, call me. I’ll be down in thirty seconds. Stay outside her room. No one goes in. Not even the doc.”
“Got it.”
“You want a chair?”
“Been sitting all night, boss. I’m fine.”
“Good man.” Donatti turned and went up to his office.
Sitting at his desk, he turned on the phones and both of them had about 20 percent power left, which was enough for his purposes. He went on Terry’s phone app first and took several snapshots of every single call that had been placed to her in the last five days. Did the same with texts. He repeated the procedure with Juleen’s phone. Then he turned them both off.
On the first day, the call list showed Gabe’s number, his number, and Juleen’s number. Then it went dark for thirty-six hours until there was a series of calls from just a name.
Devek
Devek
Devek
Devek
Must have been over two dozen calls.
The texts were equally frantic.
Where are you. Call me! It’s urgent.
Call me, Terry. It’s very urgent.
Emergency. Call me.
About twenty texts, all of them displaying panic.
Time to find out what that was all about. The difference between India and Nevada was thirteen and a half hours, which would make it about two-thirty in the afternoon there. He turned on Terry’s phone, pressed the call button, and waited. It was picked up on the second ring. Donatti waited.
“Terry?” A male voice. “Where are you? I’ve been trying to reach you for three days. Is Juleen with you? Is she okay? Are you all right?”
Donatti said, “It isn’t Terry.”
“Oh, dear God, please don’t hurt her. Please don’t hurt my daughter. Please, please. I will get the money. It will take a little time, but I swear to you I will get all the money. I will give you one hundred thousand USD as a show of good faith, but please don’t hurt—”
“It’s Christopher Donatti, Devek. I have them. They’re safe.”
There was a pause over the line. “Terry is with you?”
“Yes.”
“And Juleen too?”
“Juleen, yes, but not Sanjay. He was taken from Terry, and, as a parting gift, they beat the shit out of her.”
“Oh, dear God! Is Terry all right?”
“No, she’s not all right. She’s in the hospital.”
“How bad?”
“Bad, but she should recover.”
“This is all my fault.”
“I’m sure that’s true. Confession may be good for the soul, but it won’t help your situation. How much do they want for the boy? I’m sure they’ve contacted you about him.”
There was a protracted silence. “It’s a long story. You see, I have some gambling debts—”
“I’m up to speed, Devek. How much do they want for your son?”
“They want what I owe them.”
“And how much do you owe them?”
“A lot.”
“How much?”
“More than I have—”
“Devek, do you want my fucking help or not?”
“Two and a half million.”
Donatti’s heart skipped. He often worked with women—and men—who had racked up gambling debts. Casinos would call him and he’d pay off the debt at a discount, then the debtors would work off what they owed him by whoring. But even as someone who had done this for a while, Donatti was staggered: $2.5 million was a huge amount of debt.
Devek added, “That includes the interest.”
“That’s a shitload of money,” Donatti said. “How the fuck did they let you go so far?”
“No one was paying attention until it was too late.”
“Stop spinning me bullshit, okay? I don’t like it, I don’t like you, and I’m a millisecond away from hanging up. I have worked with casinos for over a decade. I own a casino. You are always paying attention. Why did they give you so much credit?”
“I come from a wealthy family.”
“Very wealthy, right?”
“Yes.”
“And they’re not helping you out?”
“My father is ill. He assigned my older brother executorship of all our holdings. He pulls the purse strings. And he’s angry at me right now.”
“He’s angry enough to let his nephew die for your sins?”
“He says he’ll give me a little to stall them. But he’s very, very angry. He has helped me out before, and I swore I would give it up. And I did give it up. But then things … spiraled. My fault, yes. The problem is now he doesn’t trust me.”
For good reason. Donatti thought a moment. “Why don’t you sign a promissory note to him?”
“I offered. He won’t take it.”
“Okay. I’m doing this for Terry, not for you, okay?”
“Yes, okay.”
“How about this? I’ll call him up and act as guarantor of the note. Anything goes wrong, you’ll have two people riding your ass.”
“He won’t do it.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s too angry.”
Had to be more to the story than what he was letting on. “What did you do to make him so angry?”
“I told you. I broke my promise about gambling.”
“What did I say about spinning bullshit? What did you do to piss him off?”
“I’d rather not say.”
“You’re in no position to make the conditions. What did you do?”
“I made him a promise in exchange for my debt.” A long pause. “I couldn’t deliver.”
“Stop being evasive. What did you promise him?”
“I can’t say … I’m too ashamed.”
“Ah.” Donatti let out a small laugh. Sick bastard. “You promised him your daughter, didn’t you?”
“That would not have been a problem.” A long pause. “Juleen wasn’t who he wanted.”
And then it dawned on him. “Terry.”
“He had always liked her.”
“You pimped your wife.”
“Please don’t—”
“Hey, I’m no citizen myself. I don’t judge. But I imagine she judged plenty. That’s why she left?”
“She said she needed time to think about it. And then I didn’t hear from her.” He was breathing hard over the phone. “You must understand. They were going to kill me.”
“They should have. Would have done everyone a big favor.” The line went silent. Donatti said, “How much is your brother kicking in? One hundred thousand?”
“Yes, but I think I can get more.”
“How much more?”
“Maybe I can squeeze a half million. But I really don’t know. Even my brother doesn’t have that much cash. Can you help me? I’ll pay every cent back. It may take me time, but I have a good job. I’m a surgeon. I swear I’ll pay you back every penny.”
“Devek, I don’t take layaway plans.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
If Donatti could have strangled him over the line, he would have. He said, “How long did they give you to raise the money for your son?”
“Two weeks.”
“Starting when?”
“Three days ago.” When Donatti didn’t answer, Devek said, “Hello?”
“I’m thinking. Give me a moment.” A minute passed. “Okay, the next time your son’s kidnappers call you, give them my number. Do you have a pencil?”
“Yes, hold … yes, yes. I have a pencil and paper.”
Donatti gave him the number. “Recite it back to me.” Devek repeated the numbers. “Good. Have them call me. Tell them you don’t have the money, but I do. Tell them I’m a businessman just like them, and if they don’t believe you, tell them to look me up. I’ve got an illustrious history.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“Good. You should be.”
“Can I talk to Terry? I want to tell her I love her and that I’m so sorry.”
“No, you can’t talk to her, but I’ll pass the message along.”
“Can I please talk to my daughter? You have a child. You must know how I feel.”
“I don’t care how you feel, Devek. Besides, it’s one in the morning. But even if it was one in the afternoon, I’d say no. And I’ll tell you this much. I’m a lot nicer to your daughter than you ever were to my son.”
Silence. “I sincerely apologize—to both of you.”
“Yeah, too little and way too late, but it doesn’t matter now. Give the goons my number, and we’ll go from there.”
“Chris, I don’t know how to thank you—”
“It’s Mr. Donatti to you, and don’t bother thanking me because I’m not doing you a favor. You’re going to owe me, big time.”
“I already told you I’ll pay you back every cent—plus interest.”
“Nuh-uh. I don’t need your money. I’ve got plenty of cash that’s already gathering dust. Listen carefully, motherfucker, because this is the deal. You took my wife. I want her back.”
WHEN CHRIS WHEELED me out of the hospital, I could open my eyes, although I had blood-filled black bags under my orbs and deep purple eyelids on top. My face was a Pollock painting in mixed berry colors. The good news was that the green was starting to come in, and as ugly as it was, it indicated healing. My ribs didn’t hurt as much anymore, and I could breathe better now. That wouldn’t be an issue going forward. My arm was in a cast, and I had the option of a sling should the plaster prove to be too onerous. I could walk, but at the pace of a turtle. My back still hurt, and although my creatinine levels were back down, I wasn’t completely out of danger.
I wanted to see Juleen, but she was in the middle of lessons, and part of me agreed with Chris and Gabe—that perhaps it was wiser to wait until I looked better and was a bit stronger. The one thing I didn’t want was her mothering me. A few more days wouldn’t make a difference. She was being looked after and she was safe. That was all that mattered.
“I’ll get the doctor.”
“No.” I shook my head. I was tired of being out of it. “No.” I closed my eyes. It was a strain to keep them open. “How long have I been here?”
“Five days. Wow, you sound much better.”
I did sound better. I could talk in full sentences. “Juleen is okay?”
“She’s doing fine. She’s safe. She’s with Gabe. Do you remember Gabe visiting you?”
“No.”
“He’s going to Japan tomorrow. His agent got him an Asia tour. I told him to take it. I know he’ll want to see you.” A pause. “It’s midnight.”
“Don’t wake him.” I felt his hand on my cheek. His touch was delicate. “I’m tired.”
“I’m happy to see you, Terry.”
Tears in my eyes, I turned my head away from him.
“I’m going to get the doctor. I want him to see you awake, okay?”
“Okay.”
He took his hand away and I heard him leave.
Awake, I could feel waves of pain—sometimes it was acute, sometimes it was a throbbing pulse. It didn’t feel good, but it was tolerable. A minute later, I heard two men come in. I opened my eyes. The stranger introduced himself as Drew Jamison.
“How are you?”
“Passable.” My speech was funny sounding but understandable. “What are my vitals?”
“Your vitals?”
“She’s an ER doctor,” Chris told him.
“Your vitals are fine. Your temperature is back to normal.”
I had had an infection, then. Not surprising, considering what I went through.
He said, “Your creatinine levels are still high.”
“Rhabdo.”
“Yes, but they’re starting to come down. I’m hoping to take the catheter out soon. Once you can drink and pee on your own, I can send you home in a day or two.”
Home. Where exactly was home now?
“You know your jaw is wired.”
“Yes.”
“You can drink from a straw. I’ll start you on liquids. But you’re going to have to drink tons and tons of water to get rid of the excess protein in your urine.”
“I know.” I sighed. “I’m tired.”
“I understand. I’ll set up to remove the catheter. Once that’s gone, you should try to walk. I can order a physical ther—”
“I’ll help her,” Chris said. “I’ll have to do it when I get her home anyway.”
I guess home for the time being was with him.
“It might be good to have a physical therapist just to see how it’s done, sir.”
“Whatever.”
I recognized the annoyed sound in his voice. Chris did not like help.
The doctor said, “I’ll order that for tomorrow. I guess tomorrow is today.”
Chris said, “Anything else you need, baby?”
I said, “I’m in some pain.”
“As you probably know, most of the regular painkillers are renal toxic,” the doctor said. “How about tramadol?”
“Low dose.”
“You get sick from it?”
“A little. Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome. Good to see you talking, Doctor. Take care.”
“Sure.” I let out a big sigh. It hurt my ribs. I opened my eyes and strained to look at my ex-husband. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be silly.” Chris took my right hand and kissed my fingers. “Can I sign your cast?”
“Draw a picture.”
“I can do that.” A megawatt smile. “What do you want?”
“You choose—G-rated, please.”
“Spoilsport.” He took out a pen from his jacket pocket. “How about a unicorn?”
“Unicorn?”
“Yeah, don’t girls like unicorns?”
“I’m a woman.”
“Women like money. Want me to draw a wad of cash?”
I felt myself smile. “Unicorn.”
“I thought so.” He gently stretched my right arm and started sketching. I couldn’t see what he was drawing, so I closed my eyes again.
He went silent. Then he said, “Do you remember what happened?”
“Dribs and drabs.”
“Any idea who did it?”
I could feel emotion get stuck in my throat as I thought of my son. “Probably Devek.” I paused to find my voice. “He wasn’t there when it happened.”
“How do you know?”
“I didn’t … sense him.”
“Did you recognize who was there?”
“No.” Again the tears. “Does it matter? My son is gone.”
We didn’t talk. Chris kept drawing. I could feel scratches on the cast. About two minutes later, he let go of my arm. “What do you think?”
I labored to open my wet eyes. It was a very cute unicorn with a big smile on his face. “Nice.”
“I was thinking of giving him a cute little hard-on—”
“Stop it—”
“That’s why he’s smiling.”
“Same Chris.”
“Yeah, I haven’t changed.” He stroked my upper arm. “I’m still compulsive, aggressive, dominant, controlling, and addicted to sex. I hate to be told no, and because of what I built I don’t hear it very often.”
“I’m happy for you.”
“Are you?”
I closed my eyes. “Yes. Truly.”
He said, “I haven’t changed … but I am older. At forty-four, I try to think before I react. Being sober helps.”
“I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you.” A pause. “What about you? Have you changed?”
“I don’t know.” I was completely demoralized. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t need to change,” he told me. “In my eyes, you were always perfect.”
“Thanks, but we both know that’s not true.”
Please make him stop. I can’t go into this now.
“You look tired, baby.”
“A little.”
“Go to sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.” A pause. “Your worst nightmare, huh?”
“Not at all.” I had already gone through my worst nightmare. Even dealing with Chris was a cakewalk in comparison. My eyes turned wet once again. “Not at all.”
He dabbed my puffy cheeks with a tissue. “I’ll keep you safe, angel. You and your daughter. I promise.”
“Thank you.”
“Heal up and get some sleep.”
I didn’t argue. Even if I wanted to, arguing with him was fruitless. His MO. He could be utterly beguiling, then turn fierce in a toe tap. And he would turn: a matter of when, not if. I had left him for another man. The reality of it was I hadn’t left him for another man. I had left him for the baby who just happened to be fathered by another man. Chris might overlook some things, but not that.
No, not that.
CHAPTER 4
IT WAS PENDERGAST who got the buzz to come to the hospital. He was older than most of the bodyguards and a crack shot; Donatti had employed him from the beginning, almost ten years ago. As he waited for the man to show, Donatti took out the two foreign phones he’d confiscated from Terry and the girl five days ago. He had the chargers—he was smart enough to bring those—but he didn’t have the adapters from the Indian plugs to American electrical sockets. Terry probably had one in her purse, but the purse was in his room, and he was the only one who had access to his personal space. No one could break into the room even if they wanted to. It was built like a bank vault. Donatti even had a bank vault inside. A bank vault in a bank vault. Terry would be the exception. He’d keep her there because it was secure, and he needed her safe when he wasn’t with her. And it was the one place where he could be completely alone with her.
The phones had been off all this time. Maybe they still had some juice. While he waited for backup, he thought about a lot of things, his opposite emotions waging war. On one hand, he was deliriously overjoyed to have her back in his possession. On the other hand, he was still enraged at her.
At forty-four, I try to think before I react.
His phone buzzed. Donatti pushed the button. A voice said, “I’m here, boss.”
“I’ll come get you.”
He walked out of Terry’s hospital room—there were only ten beds—past the treatment room, and out the double doors into the hallway. Pendergast was about six even with a stocky build and big arms. Donatti often saw him reading in the staff dining hall on his off-hours, sipping coffee and engaged in the classics. He motioned to him with a crooked finger, took him through the medical maze until they reached Terry’s room.
“I’ll be in my office upstairs. If something comes up, call me. I’ll be down in thirty seconds. Stay outside her room. No one goes in. Not even the doc.”
“Got it.”
“You want a chair?”
“Been sitting all night, boss. I’m fine.”
“Good man.” Donatti turned and went up to his office.
Sitting at his desk, he turned on the phones and both of them had about 20 percent power left, which was enough for his purposes. He went on Terry’s phone app first and took several snapshots of every single call that had been placed to her in the last five days. Did the same with texts. He repeated the procedure with Juleen’s phone. Then he turned them both off.
On the first day, the call list showed Gabe’s number, his number, and Juleen’s number. Then it went dark for thirty-six hours until there was a series of calls from just a name.
Devek
Devek
Devek
Devek
Must have been over two dozen calls.
The texts were equally frantic.
Where are you. Call me! It’s urgent.
Call me, Terry. It’s very urgent.
Emergency. Call me.
About twenty texts, all of them displaying panic.
Time to find out what that was all about. The difference between India and Nevada was thirteen and a half hours, which would make it about two-thirty in the afternoon there. He turned on Terry’s phone, pressed the call button, and waited. It was picked up on the second ring. Donatti waited.
“Terry?” A male voice. “Where are you? I’ve been trying to reach you for three days. Is Juleen with you? Is she okay? Are you all right?”
Donatti said, “It isn’t Terry.”
“Oh, dear God, please don’t hurt her. Please don’t hurt my daughter. Please, please. I will get the money. It will take a little time, but I swear to you I will get all the money. I will give you one hundred thousand USD as a show of good faith, but please don’t hurt—”
“It’s Christopher Donatti, Devek. I have them. They’re safe.”
There was a pause over the line. “Terry is with you?”
“Yes.”
“And Juleen too?”
“Juleen, yes, but not Sanjay. He was taken from Terry, and, as a parting gift, they beat the shit out of her.”
“Oh, dear God! Is Terry all right?”
“No, she’s not all right. She’s in the hospital.”
“How bad?”
“Bad, but she should recover.”
“This is all my fault.”
“I’m sure that’s true. Confession may be good for the soul, but it won’t help your situation. How much do they want for the boy? I’m sure they’ve contacted you about him.”
There was a protracted silence. “It’s a long story. You see, I have some gambling debts—”
“I’m up to speed, Devek. How much do they want for your son?”
“They want what I owe them.”
“And how much do you owe them?”
“A lot.”
“How much?”
“More than I have—”
“Devek, do you want my fucking help or not?”
“Two and a half million.”
Donatti’s heart skipped. He often worked with women—and men—who had racked up gambling debts. Casinos would call him and he’d pay off the debt at a discount, then the debtors would work off what they owed him by whoring. But even as someone who had done this for a while, Donatti was staggered: $2.5 million was a huge amount of debt.
Devek added, “That includes the interest.”
“That’s a shitload of money,” Donatti said. “How the fuck did they let you go so far?”
“No one was paying attention until it was too late.”
“Stop spinning me bullshit, okay? I don’t like it, I don’t like you, and I’m a millisecond away from hanging up. I have worked with casinos for over a decade. I own a casino. You are always paying attention. Why did they give you so much credit?”
“I come from a wealthy family.”
“Very wealthy, right?”
“Yes.”
“And they’re not helping you out?”
“My father is ill. He assigned my older brother executorship of all our holdings. He pulls the purse strings. And he’s angry at me right now.”
“He’s angry enough to let his nephew die for your sins?”
“He says he’ll give me a little to stall them. But he’s very, very angry. He has helped me out before, and I swore I would give it up. And I did give it up. But then things … spiraled. My fault, yes. The problem is now he doesn’t trust me.”
For good reason. Donatti thought a moment. “Why don’t you sign a promissory note to him?”
“I offered. He won’t take it.”
“Okay. I’m doing this for Terry, not for you, okay?”
“Yes, okay.”
“How about this? I’ll call him up and act as guarantor of the note. Anything goes wrong, you’ll have two people riding your ass.”
“He won’t do it.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s too angry.”
Had to be more to the story than what he was letting on. “What did you do to make him so angry?”
“I told you. I broke my promise about gambling.”
“What did I say about spinning bullshit? What did you do to piss him off?”
“I’d rather not say.”
“You’re in no position to make the conditions. What did you do?”
“I made him a promise in exchange for my debt.” A long pause. “I couldn’t deliver.”
“Stop being evasive. What did you promise him?”
“I can’t say … I’m too ashamed.”
“Ah.” Donatti let out a small laugh. Sick bastard. “You promised him your daughter, didn’t you?”
“That would not have been a problem.” A long pause. “Juleen wasn’t who he wanted.”
And then it dawned on him. “Terry.”
“He had always liked her.”
“You pimped your wife.”
“Please don’t—”
“Hey, I’m no citizen myself. I don’t judge. But I imagine she judged plenty. That’s why she left?”
“She said she needed time to think about it. And then I didn’t hear from her.” He was breathing hard over the phone. “You must understand. They were going to kill me.”
“They should have. Would have done everyone a big favor.” The line went silent. Donatti said, “How much is your brother kicking in? One hundred thousand?”
“Yes, but I think I can get more.”
“How much more?”
“Maybe I can squeeze a half million. But I really don’t know. Even my brother doesn’t have that much cash. Can you help me? I’ll pay every cent back. It may take me time, but I have a good job. I’m a surgeon. I swear I’ll pay you back every penny.”
“Devek, I don’t take layaway plans.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
If Donatti could have strangled him over the line, he would have. He said, “How long did they give you to raise the money for your son?”
“Two weeks.”
“Starting when?”
“Three days ago.” When Donatti didn’t answer, Devek said, “Hello?”
“I’m thinking. Give me a moment.” A minute passed. “Okay, the next time your son’s kidnappers call you, give them my number. Do you have a pencil?”
“Yes, hold … yes, yes. I have a pencil and paper.”
Donatti gave him the number. “Recite it back to me.” Devek repeated the numbers. “Good. Have them call me. Tell them you don’t have the money, but I do. Tell them I’m a businessman just like them, and if they don’t believe you, tell them to look me up. I’ve got an illustrious history.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“Good. You should be.”
“Can I talk to Terry? I want to tell her I love her and that I’m so sorry.”
“No, you can’t talk to her, but I’ll pass the message along.”
“Can I please talk to my daughter? You have a child. You must know how I feel.”
“I don’t care how you feel, Devek. Besides, it’s one in the morning. But even if it was one in the afternoon, I’d say no. And I’ll tell you this much. I’m a lot nicer to your daughter than you ever were to my son.”
Silence. “I sincerely apologize—to both of you.”
“Yeah, too little and way too late, but it doesn’t matter now. Give the goons my number, and we’ll go from there.”
“Chris, I don’t know how to thank you—”
“It’s Mr. Donatti to you, and don’t bother thanking me because I’m not doing you a favor. You’re going to owe me, big time.”
“I already told you I’ll pay you back every cent—plus interest.”
“Nuh-uh. I don’t need your money. I’ve got plenty of cash that’s already gathering dust. Listen carefully, motherfucker, because this is the deal. You took my wife. I want her back.”
WHEN CHRIS WHEELED me out of the hospital, I could open my eyes, although I had blood-filled black bags under my orbs and deep purple eyelids on top. My face was a Pollock painting in mixed berry colors. The good news was that the green was starting to come in, and as ugly as it was, it indicated healing. My ribs didn’t hurt as much anymore, and I could breathe better now. That wouldn’t be an issue going forward. My arm was in a cast, and I had the option of a sling should the plaster prove to be too onerous. I could walk, but at the pace of a turtle. My back still hurt, and although my creatinine levels were back down, I wasn’t completely out of danger.
I wanted to see Juleen, but she was in the middle of lessons, and part of me agreed with Chris and Gabe—that perhaps it was wiser to wait until I looked better and was a bit stronger. The one thing I didn’t want was her mothering me. A few more days wouldn’t make a difference. She was being looked after and she was safe. That was all that mattered.
