Flight 12: A Sloane Monroe Thriller (Flight 12 Begins Series Book 4) (6 page)

I woke the next morning determined that by the end of the day, one way or another, I’d fly back home and never return to New York City again. I’d given Daniela my word, and even though it seemed there was no one in Giovanni’s family I could trust any longer, I’d already told Daniela I’d see our plan through. I’d made a promise. I wasn’t about to break it now, no matter how much I wanted to.

After explaining the dining room fiasco to Maddie, she assumed the role of protector, refusing Giovanni when he came to our bedroom door, not once, but twice. The second time, Giovanni endured a side of Maddie rarely seen, the effect of how she reacted when someone she cared about had been wronged. Ever since the one-sided verbal tongue lashing, he hadn’t been brave enough to return to the door again.

I was dressed and ready, applying the finishing touches of makeup to my face while I waited for Maddie to return. Several hours earlier, she’d left with her sharp-shooting bodyguard. After teaching her class, she planned to meet up with an old friend to procure an item we would need later on.

I remained in the room, alone, having no desire to see Giovanni or any other members of his family. I passed the time by looking into anyone with the name Dashner. The most prominent Dashner was a man named Edward H. Dashner. Edward was a doctor, and, as it turned out, he was involved in a program called Doctors Assist International. He frequently traveled across the country administering medicine to those in need. I checked on the site, looking at the list of countries they visited. The list was alphabetical. Italy was on it.   

There was a knock on the bedroom door.

“Can I come in?”

Daniela.  

“It’s open,” I said, though I was hoping to avoid her along with the rest.

She entered, carrying a tray of food which she set on the nightstand. “You didn’t come down for breakfast this morning. I told Maddie it would be ready for you at ten o’clock.”

“Can you blame me?”

“No, I can’t,” she said. “I … ahh … feel I should speak up on Giovanni’s behalf.”

I rinsed the makeup off my hands, dried them on a hand towel. “Is Valentina really Giovanni’s wife?”

“Yes, she is.”

“And is Marcelo his son?”

She nodded, reluctantly.  

“How could you, Daniela? He’s always hid things from me—but you?”

“I know, I should have told you. I wanted to. He said it would cause—”

“Please. Just stop. There’s nothing more to say. Besides, Giovanni and I haven’t been together for a while now. I see no reason why an explanation is needed.”

“Sloane, you really should allow me to—”

“No, Daniela. No more. I’ll do what I said I would, as agreed, and then I’m leaving.”

She sat on the edge of the bed. Nodded. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Staying.”

“Don’t thank me. I’m trapped here, remember? You’re my way out.”

“You’re not
trapped
. Truth is, I just think he doesn’t want to see you go.”

It didn’t matter what he wanted.

I was going, and I wasn’t
ever
coming back.

Maddie returned from her conference with something she called “devil’s breath,” a nasty drug also known as scopolamine, a kind of truth serum we hoped would turn “The Hammer” into a babbling buffoon. There were no promises, though. As Maddie explained it, “truth serum” didn’t guarantee the truth would actually come out. The drug varied from person to person. It was inconsistent at best. A longshot. But it was the only shot we had.

Maddie instructed Daniela on how to administer the drug. We were told to wait inside her oversized shoe closet, a room no man had any reason to enter.  

“Tell me how this drug works,” I whispered to Maddie.

“It’s tasteless, odorless, and colorless. That’s why I asked her to slip it into the wine she’s going to offer him.”

“What does it do exactly?”

“It blocks the formation of memories. Regardless of what happens, he shouldn’t be able to recall what went on here tonight with any kind of clarity. It’s like a fragment of time will be lost forever. Gone.”

“How long does it take to kick in?” I asked.

“Not long. He’ll still be coherent, conscious, articulate even, but he’ll lack willpower, give in to suggestion. That’s when we’ll find out what he knows.”

“Won’t he remember Daniela inviting him here? Assume he was drugged?”

“Hard to say. Some are more susceptible than others.”

The plan was for Benny to wake up in Daniela’s bed. Naked. And hopefully thinking the two of them had slept together. She’d give him a kiss or two, and send him on his way. 

“Daniela said she’d let him go once she gets what she wants.”

Maddie laughed.

“What’s so funny?” I asked.

“I’m not sure I believe her, and you shouldn’t either. Her father’s life is at stake—her entire family, if she gets caught.” 

“She promised he wouldn’t be hurt.”

“Sloane, Benny’s a criminal. They’re all criminals. Giovanni included.”

I looked away. “I know.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said—”

“Forget it. I don’t love him anymore. I mean, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t care, didn’t still have feelings. But they’re not the same now. They’ll never be the same.”

…

Several minutes before the dinner guests were to arrive, Giovanni clutched hold of my wrist as I ascended the stairs, peeling one of his long, slender fingers back and extending it toward my face like a dagger.

“You have guests coming,” I said. “You need to go.”

“We need to talk. This isn’t over. What you did, filling my sister’s head with ideas, it’s not okay. You can’t run around here, doing anything you like.”

Too late. I just did

I wriggled my arm, but he wouldn’t release me. “Let go.”

The doorbell rang, leaving him with no other option other than to set me free. Before I stepped away from him, I leaned close, whispered in his ear. “This bed you’re in right now … when everything is said and done, just remember,
you
are the one who made it.”

…

While Maddie and I remained out of sight, Daniela stopped in to let us know the dinner party had commenced in a friendly, cordial manner. Rocco behaved as if he wasn’t the slightest bit suspicious of anyone in Giovanni’s family. Wine flowed freely as did idle conversation. Daniela even braved the biggest question of all—asking what everyone’s plans were for the rest of the night. When Benny said he didn’t have any, it opened the door for Daniela to ask him to stay, talk for a while, an offer he quickly accepted. Rocco remained quiet about his trip to Rome later that evening.  

Once dinner concluded, Rocco made a quick exit, excusing himself by taking a call and saying there was something that needed to be “handled.” Benny followed Daniela up to her room, where the real action was about to begin.

“Why now?” Benny asked.

“Why, what?” Daniela responded.

“Accept me. Invite me to your room. I’ve asked you out for years. Why here? Why like this? This isn’t like you.” 

“Maybe you never tried hard enough.”

Glasses clanked together. The pair toasted to the health and happiness of their families, and to good fortune, a sentiment that meant something different to each of them. Within minutes, Benny’s formal, tough-guy act faded, and a new, malleable Benny emerged. As he embraced the oh-so-good feeling, he began singing Daniela’s name repeatedly like it was a song. She laughed, played the part, accepting his flirty banters of affection.

“Dan … yell … ah,” Benny sang. “Come to me. Come here.”  

Daniela stepped over to the closet, whispered, “Is he ready yet?”

Maddie pushed the closet door open, nodded.

“Is this okay?” Daniela asked. “I mean, is it all right if he sees you?”

“It’s fine,” Maddie said. “He shouldn’t remember we were here.”

“I’m not sure what to say,” Daniela said. “How far can I go? What can I ask him?”

Maddie shrugged. “Anything.”

“Dan … yell … ah, where’d you go?” Benny walked around the room. Searching.

“He’s crooning like he’s backed by a full orchestra,” I said. “You need to keep him quiet. We don’t need Giovanni up here.”

For as tough and assertive as I knew Daniela to be, her visible thigh was trembling. She was out of her league tonight, and she knew it. I lacked the patience necessary to wait until it passed, if it passed at all.

I stepped into the room, exchanged glances with Benny.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“Why don’t you have a seat?”

He thought about it for a moment. “Okay.”

He sat.

Test one: success.   

“Daniela tells me you oversee most of the nightclubs in town.”

“I do,” he said. “Why?”

“I need to get into Essence.”

He giggled like I’d been smacked over the head by a stupid stick. “Use the front door then, lady, like everyone else.”

“The front door is for guests of the club. I want to go through the side door, hang out in the secret room with your brother and his friends.”

He swished a hand through the air. “It’s easy. Punch in the code and you’re in.”

“I would,” I said, “but I don’t know the code.”

“I don’t either.”

We had ourselves a problem.

“I thought you managed the club.”

“I do. Never took the time to memorize the numbers, though.”

“How do you get in when the club’s not open?” I asked.

“KCOREHT.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s ‘The Rock’ backward. Never took the time to learn what numbers they match to, but you type in those letters, and the door will open.”

No hesitation. No alarm bells going off in his brain. Nothing. He said it like he wanted me to know. Daniela’s mouth propped open.

“What’s in the secret room?” I asked. “Where do you keep the drugs?”  

“Not drugs, pills. In packages.”

I wasn’t sure what he meant. It didn’t matter. We’d find out soon enough.

“Why is your brother going to Rome tonight?”

“To see family. Why else?”

“To smuggle heroin,” I said.  

Benny laughed, walked over to me, twirled a lock of my hair around his finger. “You’re a funny lady. You really think my brother’s stupid enough to run ’em himself?”

“I think he’s smart enough to get a patsy to do it for him. Who’s the patsy—Doctor Dashner?”

Benny grinned. “Funny
and
smart.”

“Where can I find Dashner?” I asked.

With a finger swishing through the air, he began saying, “1-5-3 Palmer, 1-5-3 Palmer, 1-5-3 Palmer.”

I was starting to think shutting him up would prove the biggest challenge of all.

“I think I have what we need,” I said.

Daniela followed Maddie and me to the door. “You two be careful. You have the pistols I gave you, right?”

I nodded. “I’ll check in as soon as we’ve found something.”

On my way out, I noticed Benny’s eyes hadn’t left mine. Loud enough for him to hear, I said, “I’m heading over to the night club.”

When her bedroom door closed, Benny’s playful voice was crooning again.

“You’re all going to die tonight,” he sang. “You’re all going to die.”

Clouds pooled together across a dreary, gray sky. Thunder roared, shouting its anger, its discontent, for all to see. Everything felt wrong. So wrong.

“We’re not going to Essence Night Club,” I said.

“Why not?” Maddie asked.

“It’s a trap.”

Before Maddie and I trekked through a patch of forest to get to a car Daniela had waiting on the next street over, I texted Daniela, asked if she was okay. She replied back. She was fine. Benny was in her bed, beckoning her to accept his advances. I explained my concerns, instructed her to wait only a few minutes, just long enough for us to get to the car. Then she needed to get Giovanni involved, and get Benny out.  

The Romano family was planning something, which meant they knew.

Giovanni needed to be ready.

I felt uneasy about Daniela alone with Benny. As soon as the car was in sight, I sent Giovanni a text:
Benny’s in Daniela’s room. He may or may not be drugged. I fear she’s in danger.

There was no time to explain anything else.

I held my palm out to Maddie. “Let me see your phone.” 

She handed it over. I took mine and hers, checked them between a cluster of trees.

“What are you doing?” Maddie asked.

“Getting us out of here.”

Dashner did not live at 153 Palmer. I knew this as soon as the words left Benny’s mouth. The address I had led me to a two-story stucco house close to the city. The curtains were drawn, shielding my view. Maddie and I approached the front door. Seeing my hand inside my jacket pocket, gripping my gun, she retrieved hers. I shook my head. The last thing I needed was a novice gunslinger shooting her way inside.

“Put it away,” I whispered.

She frowned. “What’s your plan—knock and hope he answers?”

I twisted the door knob. It wasn’t locked. I stepped inside.

“Stay behind me,” I said.  

Five large, zipped suitcases were lined up side by side in a perfect row on the living room floor. Whistling sounded from the hallway, growing louder as it approached. Upon seeing two women in his living room, a man I assumed was Dashner, came to an abrupt halt. The man was older, late 60s. He wore rimless glasses and had a full head of white hair with a trimmed mustache to match. He was slim, well-groomed, and pretty. He looked like he hadn’t disobeyed a law in his life.

“Going somewhere?” I asked.

“Excuse me?”

“I asked if you’re going somewhere.”

“Who are you? Why are you in my house?”

His voice was calm, not the least bit agitated.

“Answer the question,” I said.  

“I will not. Leave or I’ll call the police.”

“Are you Edward H. Dashner?”

He nodded. “What do you want?”

I withdrew my gun.  

He raised both hands in front of him. “If you’re planning on shooting me, mind telling me who you two are first?”

I smiled. “I’m Kit, this is Kat. Have a seat.”

He sat, crossed one leg over the other. “You shouldn’t be here. You should go.”

I turned to Maddie. “Unzip the bags.”

I expected Dashner to resist. He didn’t. Maddie unzipped one of the bags, pulled out a packet with a familiar label for a name-brand headache medicine.

“My supplies,” Dashner said. “I work with Doctors Assist International.”

“We know who you are, and we know what you do. What we don’t know is why you’re helping Rocco Romano smuggle fentanyl out of the country.” I picked up one of the packets. “It
is
fentanyl in these bags, right?”

He interlaced his hands on his lap. “I … had no choice.”

“Of course you did. You always have a choice.”

I whipped my head to the side a moment too late. Vincent stepped around a wall in front of me, fired his gun. The bullet ripped into my shoulder and then shot back out again, drilling itself into the wall beside me.

Maddie reached for her gun. Vincent stopped her.

“Pull a gun on me and you die,” Vincent said. “Right here, right now.”

Maddie took a step forward.

“Stay where you are!” Vincent yelled.

“She’s bleeding,” Maddie said. “Let me help her.”

“Stay. Where. You. Are.”

Maddie stayed.

“You don’t just work for Giovanni, do you?” I asked.

“And you’re not just some chick who got caught at the wrong hotel at the wrong time.”  

“How long have you been working for Rocco?”

“I don’t work for him. I work for myself.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I’ve been loyal to Giovanni’s family for three years.”

“What changed?” I asked.

“Information.”

“You found out about Misty.”

“Found out I was workin’ for a family of traitors. Decided I’d approach Rocco. He paid good money to find out what I know. Ever since, I’ve been doin’ things for him, like escortin’ the doctor here to the airport tonight, makin’ sure nothin’ gets in the way.”

“Why did he choose you?” I asked. “Why not someone else—someone he trusts?”

“They’re … uhh … occupied at the moment.”

Occupied.

Giovanni.

For a split second, Vincent’s attention diverted to something behind me. A second was all I needed. I pulled my gun. Fired. Missed. The pain of my wound getting in the way of a clear shot. I glanced behind me. Saw who Vincent was looking at. Cesare. A million swear words crowded my mind.

Were they both in on it?

A bullet whizzed by me, fired by Maddie’s gun. It plunged into Vincent’s chest. He reeled back.

Cesare leveled his gun, pointing it at me. As I popped off another shot in his direction, he yelled, “Wait!”

Maddie walked toward Vincent, unloading her clip into his helpless body. Cesare braced himself against the wall, glanced down at the blood oozing from his lower abdomen. He pleaded with me again. “Sloane, please. Wait.”

His tone was different, nothing like the man who kidnapped me the day before.

“You had your gun raised to me. You were going to kill me. Why should I spare you now?”

“It wasn’t aimed at you. It was aimed behind you, at Vincent.” He reached an unsteady hand inside his jacket, pulled out a shiny piece of gold, raised it in front of me. With his fingers curled around the top, I couldn’t read everything it said, but four words stood out like a firefly on a darkened night.

I slapped a hand over my lips, my eyes blurry, questioning myself and my actions. What had I done?