Private

One of them, the guy in the lead, was wearing a black shirt, black pants, black jacket, no tie. He locked eyes with me, and I saw that he remembered me too.

“What are you doing here, Morgan? You have an appointment for a massage?”

I held up my palms to show that I wasn’t looking for trouble. But it didn’t matter. Trouble had found me.

“Do I look like I have to pay for a massage?” I said.

Chapter 45

THE MAN WEARING all black had mostly been a shadowy presence in my driveway, standing behind Ray Noccia when the don paid me a call. He was muscle, and I could see him better now: in his late thirties, handsome if you like his type, bulked up, and heavily armed.

Glenda smiled in his direction. “Do you know Francis Mosconi, Mr. Morgan? He’s in a related line of work,” she said.

“We’ve met,” I said. “Francis.” I nodded his way.

I also recognized the man directly behind Mosconi. He was Noccia’s driver, the fifty-something gentleman who’d maybe wisely advised me not to refuse a conversation with the boss. I placed him now. He was Joseph Ricci, the don’s cousin, I believed.

A third man followed Ricci and Mosconi out onto the patio. He was young, blond, tanned, and looked like a lifeguard in his yellow polo shirt and khakis.

Mosconi patted me down. A few feet away, Lifeguard was doing the same to Del Rio, who pushed his hands away and said, “Get your hands off of me. Right now.”

Lifeguard paid no attention, spun Rick around, and pushed him against the wall. I didn’t think that was a good idea.

The kid was younger and possibly more fit than Del Rio, but it didn’t matter. Rick hit him square in the nose with a jab and followed with a terrifying uppercut. The blond was out on his feet, and I felt like I ought to applaud.

But then Ricci lunged for Rick and hugged him from behind, pinning his arms to his sides while Mosconi put a nine-mil Beretta to Rick’s temple.

“Stop,” I called out. “We’re done.”

I raised my hands. Kept them high and in sight as Mosconi walked my way. Then he hit me hard with the Beretta. I guess we weren’t done.

I went down. Then we were done.

Chapter 46

A FEW SECONDS LATER, Mosconi stood over me, eclipsing the weak sun. I tasted sour bile. Meanwhile, I was thinking that no one knew where we were. Del Rio and I were outnumbered and outgunned. It was Dodge City at high noon, and the smart odds were with the black hats.

Mosconi spoke softly, even kindly. “That one’s for the way you talked to Mr. Noccia,” he said. “Now get the hell up, Morgan.”

I struggled to my feet, and as soon as I was upright, Mosconi hit me with a hard right to the chin. I staggered back and fell again, crushing a lounge chair, breaking a table. Spots blinked in front of my eyes.

“That’s for trespassing,” Mosconi said. “And calling me Francis.”

I felt cold metal as he screwed his gun down into my ear. The other two were working Rick over, cursing and screaming as they pounded him.

“You’ve got to learn some respect, Morgan. You and your friend.”

“I understand,” I said. “I do. I apologize. Help me up.”

Mosconi laughed at me. He reached his hand down, and I grabbed it and twisted his wrist until Mosconi shrieked and followed his pain to the ground.

The Beretta clattered to the flagstones. I grabbed it on the second bounce and jammed the muzzle into Mosconi’s temple. Fair is fair.

“Put your guns on the ground,” I shouted to Ricci and Lifeguard. “Guns on the ground and step away.”

Joe Ricci immediately put his gun on the ground. Then so did Lifeguard.

“Morgan,” Mosconi said with a sneer. “It’s over. You win this time.”

“It’s not over yet,” I said.

I didn’t want to be followed and I didn’t want a bullet in the back, so I ordered the three of them into the pool.

Ricci took off his shoes and his watch and walked down the steps at the shallow end like a gentleman. Mosconi shed his jacket and did a cannonball. Del Rio stiff-armed Lifeguard over the side.

“Don’t forget these,” I called to them.

I tossed their guns into the pool.

The call girls began to move in closer. One of them put her hands on her knees and glowered at Mosconi in disgust. She was a little thing with blazing eyes.

“Now how are we supposed to swim in there?” she asked.

“Flap your arms and kick your legs,” Del Rio said to her.

Glenda Treat watched from a vine-draped window as Del Rio and I left her yard. I waved bye-bye, and predictably, she gave me the finger. Unfortunately, that was all I’d gotten at the Benedict Spa.

Chapter 47

“CONSIDER US EVEN,” Del Rio said. He was holding a wad of paper towels to his bloody nose as I drove us back down the road toward the office.

“What are you talking about?”

“You saved my life back there. I’ve been waiting for this day.”

“Not even close. They were just messing with us. You’re delirious.”

“Shit,” Del Rio muttered.

“Why was Shelby working for Glenda Treat?” I said.

“She was your friend, Jack. I barely knew her.”