Blood Trust - Eric van Lustbader [89]
On the other hand, Pawnhill was daily becoming more of a danger. This incident was merely the last straw. Gunn knew now that sooner rather than later he’d have to do something about Pawnhill, because everyone else involved lacked the guts to go after him. He wasn’t afraid of the man’s physical prowess or his connections, but he had to find a way to take him out without being hit by the inevitable shitstorm.
He felt a trickle of blood run down inside his collar and he smiled. He wouldn’t forget Pawnhill’s assault on his person. On the contrary, it would color the method of his demise.
“I apologize if I’ve offended you in any way, John. That was not my intention.” He shrugged. “I don’t like failure, that’s all.”
“Neither of us does.” Pawnhill reached around Gunn and, opening the glass door, took out a couple of Coca-Colas. He handed one to Gunn and they popped the tops, clinked bottles, and took good, long swigs. “Who murdered our people at Twilight? Have you gotten anywhere with that?”
“It’s too soon to—”
“It’s clear they were killed for the badge that got Dardan’s murderer into the Stem. That never should have happened, Gunn. You were in charge.”
“I can’t have my people everywhere, John. That kind of visibility in the midst of Billy Warren’s murder would have been lethal.”
“That fucking murder,” Pawnhill said. “That fucking murder started it all.” He tapped the neck of the bottle against his forehead. “Who’s mucking around in our patch?” He downed more Coke. “Shit, we’ll all suffer for Dardan’s death.”
Now Gunn understood the real reason why Pawnhill was on edge. “What will the reaction be?”
Pawnhill grunted. “One thing I know, the man who murdered Dardan is a dead man. No matter where he is or where he goes, Arian will hunt him down and kill him like a rabid dog.”
“And what of us?”
“What, indeed?” Pawnhill took another swig of Coke and swallowed noisily. “Someone will be coming, Gunn.” He glanced around the store as if the individual might already be there. “Someone who won’t be as easy to handle as Dardan was. Someone who will make us all pay the price for Dardan’s death.”
EIGHTEEN
NAOMI AND McKinsey were out canvassing the area around Twilight, still trying to find someone—anyone—who knew Arjeta Kraja. It seemed increasingly odd to them that she could be living in the neighborhood without anyone knowing her or even seeing her, save at the club.
In addition to this frustration, Naomi felt increasingly uncomfortable in McKinsey’s presence. How much he was keeping from her she had no idea, but the fact that he was keeping anything creeped her out.
And there was the matter of Willowicz. If she could believe Annika Dementieva—and having crossed paths with him she was inclined to believe her—he was responsible for the torture and murder of Billy Warren, plus the murders of the two Twilight employees. In the normal course of things, she would have told Pete immediately. But this was definitely not the normal course of things and she felt the need to keep her own counsel. Still, how could she be effective on this case if she couldn’t rely on her partner?
Briefly, she had contemplated going to their superior at the Secret Service, but she had no real proof of any wrongdoing on his part. Plus, she couldn’t mention Roosevelt Island without spooking the mysterious Mbreti. And the more she thought about it, the more convinced she became that “the King” was the key to Arian Xhafa’s operations in Washington—for all she knew, the entire United States.
They were about to knock on yet another door when her cell buzzed. Having called Jack several times, leaving voice mails as detailed as she dared, she hoped it was him as she checked the caller ID. It was Rachel’s home number. It was an odd occurrence for her sister to call during working hours. Signaling to McKinsey to continue, she stepped several paces away and answered the phone.
“Nomi?”
Her heart skipped a beat. She wondered how one