The Sarah Roberts Series Vol. 7-9 Read online

  He was too late. The gun fired before he made contact.

  Chapter 46

  “Lovely evening, isn’t it, Sarah?” Death asked as he swept a hand over Toronto far below.

  “You didn’t bring me up here to be romantic. Why the small talk? Nervous?”

  He closed his eyes. Tension played across his face until a tic developed beneath his right eye. “I want to know what you were doing in that massage parlor.” He opened his eyes and glared at her. The tic stopped. “I want to know why you had a gun and why you shot Juan.”

  Sarah checked the driver to see how close he was and then crossed her arms. She had seconds to play this out.

  “You’re kidding, right?” she asked. “You had me chained up for almost a week. We talked daily and not once did you ask me that. What is this? Building up the nerve to do what you came here to do? You want a solid reason? Don’t worry, I’ll make it easy for you to hate me.” She stepped closer to him and unlocked her arms. “You’re a pussy. A fucking coward who hides behind his gang. One on one, I’d kick your ass. Lose the weapons and you’re a nobody. Actually, that’s not true. You’re a low-life scum who likes to beat on women and use the gang as a reason to take sex whenever you want it. You’re nothing more than a Neanderthal and the sooner your kind are dead and gone, the sooner the rest of us will be happier.” She moved her face closer to his and lowered her voice. “There, that give you reason to do what you came here to do?”

  He looked her up and down, hatred playing across his face. “I wanted to see if we could make a truce.”

  “A truce? You have got to be joking.”

  “I could use someone like you on my side. You could be the alpha female. But now, that will never happen.”

  “If you don’t push me off this roof, I think I’ll just jump.”

  Death dropped his blade to the floor beside him, never taking his eyes off her. With his good hand, he grabbed her above the elbow and shoved hard toward the railing.

  But Sarah was prepared. Even though she knew a bullet would welcome her efforts, she wrapped her arm around his in a way that her hand came up by his underarm. Then she yanked her arm sideways which twisted Death’s elbow up, almost snapping it.

  In a rolling hip move, she drove her opposing knee up and into Death’s stomach. He keeled over with a loud grunt. Still holding his arm, she twisted his body in front of her and wrapped him in an arm lock, both his arms aimed at the sky, putting him between her and the driver.

  The gun fired.

  She breathed again when nothing hit her. Continuing to defend herself against the shooter with Death’s body, she kept him in front as she pushed toward the driver.

  Death tried to spin around, but unless he dropped to the ground, he couldn’t get out of Sarah’s firm grip. Sure he was a street fighter, but with his arms locked the way she had him made it near impossible to turn around.

  But then the driver’s body collapsed in front of them and dropped to the floor of the roof.

  Her cousin stood behind the driver.

  “Russell? What are you doing here?” Sarah shouted.

  Then Death dropped to his knees, twisted around and brought a fist up and into her ribs that were already on fire.

  She grunted and tried to get away from him. He hit again and then again before she could get far enough away.

  The pain leveled her. She fell to her knees, knowing she had to get up and move or she would die.

  Death dove toward the railing. He came back up with his blade in his good hand.

  She launched off her knees and tried to scramble away, but Death marched past her, headed for Russell.

  “Look out,” she tried to yell, but her lungs were constricted by the pain in her ribs and it came out too low for Russell to hear.

  She used the wall of the stairwell access to pull herself up and watched as Death swung his blade at Russell, an animal-like screech emitting from his mouth.

  Russell pulled a round silver object up, like a shield, and met the approaching knife. Frustrated, Death tried again at a different angle, but a second shield came up just as fast.

  Sarah started for the driver’s body. He had the gun.

  Her breath came in shallow gulps. Death was hitting and kicking Russell now. Somehow he managed to get one of the shields away from Russell.

  She was almost at the driver.

  For a moment, the two men circled around, staring at each other. Russell had been cut. There was blood on his face.

  Sarah bent to retrieve the gun.

  But it was gone.

  She searched frantically where the body had dropped, but it must have been kicked away.

  It was nowhere in sight.

  Over her shoulder, she saw Death lunge with the blade. Russell moved left to avoid it, but Death had anticipated the move. The shield was no help as the blade embedded itself in Russell’s shoulder, dropping down at least four inches.

  Death tugged on the handle but all he did was jerk Russell’s shoulder. The blade had stuck in bone.

  Russell snapped the remaining shield down on Death’s bad hand. Death screamed and held his arm up, his wrist dangling at an impossible angle.

  Death wobbled on his feet and stumbled to the railing at the edge of the roof. He held on to stay on his feet.

  Russell turned to her and tried to smile through immense pain.

  “It’s okay, Sarah,” he said. “I love you. This is my parting gift. Penny said it was time I came home. Time I came to see her.”

  “No!” Sarah shouted.

  Russell took a step toward Death at the railing, who continued to moan.

  “Goodbye, Sarah.”

  He pulled an envelope out of his pocket and tossed it to the floor a few feet from her.

  “My final request,” he said and took another step.

  “Russell,” Sarah shouted. “Don’t!”

  Then he faced Death and took a step forward, the small machete still stuck in his shoulder.

  A second later he ran.

  “Noooo,” Sarah screamed through the pain, but he was going too fast.

  Russell hit Death hard and lifted him just enough to clear the railing.

  It took one second for the two men to balance over the top, then disappear. And like that, they were gone. All that remained was Death’s scream.

  She would remember that scream for a long time.

  The scream of Death.

  Chapter 47

  Sarah sat gingerly, ever mindful of her sore ribs. Lyson sat across from her at his desk and adjusted things, moving his phone, setting a pen on the side.

  “This is my last week here,” he said. “I didn’t think this day would come for a long time.”

  Sarah grinned. “I’m happy for you. It must’ve been a long distinguished career. And to go out with such a bang …”

  “Funny.” He stopped adjusting things. His face turned serious. “How’s Aaron?”

  “He’s okay. Happy the charges were dropped.”

  “I’m happy to have retrieved my weapon without it used in a homicide. That would’ve marred my retirement.”

  “It almost was.” She shrugged, not caring what he thought. Had she found the gun that night, she would have used every bullet on Death’s face and maybe Russell would still be here.

  Not many people showed up at the funeral. His body was transported back to the States for burial. She hoped he found the peace he had been looking for. Maybe now he could be with his daughter and have the happiness that he couldn’t have in life.

  “Since you left your statement and Aaron left his, the investigation into the Leap Year Killer is over. His last two victims were released from hospital and are having to learn sign language because of what he did to them.” He picked up his pen and tapped it on his desk. “The good news is, we continued our raids on the Angels of Violence hangouts, rounding up almost one hundred members in the Toronto area alone, charging them with over three hundred charges. The Integrated Gun and Gang Task Fo
rce in Toronto, feels that the Toronto Chapter has been dissolved, thanks to you.”

  “And Russell and Aaron. I didn’t do this alone.”

  She hardly knew Russell, but she grieved his loss. The note he left behind for her was very clear in its instructions. She only hoped he was right.

  “What’s next for you, Sarah?”

  “The road.”

  “The road?”

  “Can’t stay too long in one place.”

  They were wasting time and she knew it. The FBI had a plan and an offer for her. Russell talked about it in the note.

  “There’s someone who would like to see you.”

  “Oh yeah?” she said, acting surprised. “Who might that be? Agent Kierian?”

  The creases in Lyson’s forehead dipped briefly, then righted.

  “Yes. How did you know?”

  She smiled wide. “I’m psychic, don’t you remember?”

  Looking unsettled, Lyson muttered something and stood. “I’ll send him in.” He walked around his desk to Sarah. “You’re quite the young lady, Sarah Roberts.” He reached out his hand and shook hers. “Thanks for coming on board and helping as you did. And thank Aaron for me, even though he won’t come down here.”

  “He’s a little pissed, but I’m sure he’ll get over it.”

  He released her hand and left. Her ribs ached too much to turn around. A minute later the door opened and closed again.

  Kierian stood in front of her. His face had healed nicely, leaving only a few pink spots that would turn to small scars.

  “Hello, Sarah.”

  “Kierian.”

  “I wanted to talk to you—”

  “I accept.”

  Kierian stopped and faced her. “You haven’t heard what I want yet.”

  “Then go ahead and tell me because I’m tired and I want to get some sleep before my flight.”

  “Your flight?”

  “Stop fucking around, Kierian. I’m going to Rome, Italy, aren’t I?”

  “Well yes, if you accept—”

  “I just told you I do.”

  “Okay, you’re going too fast for me.” He sat in Lyson’s chair.

  “The FBI wants to propose an offer to you.”

  Sarah didn’t respond. She didn’t know all the details of the offer, but Russell had said in his note that he saw her in Rome under their protection within weeks. He said that she would die before her next birthday in April if she didn’t take their offer. He couldn’t see past that. At least that’s what Penny told him to tell her.

  “We have certain problems in Rome that we’re working on with the Italian authorities. Actually, it’s more their problem but it has to do with an American, so they’ve called us for help. Our offer is this: if you come on board, you’ll be under our protection. It’ll be like you’re a member of the FBI, albeit in an advisory capacity. I’ve been ordered to be your handler, your contact. We would work together on future cases.”

  “No, I work alone. Whatever Vivian tells me to do, I do it. Then I’ll tell you what I did. However it shapes up, I work alone. We will not be partners.”

  He raised a palm in surrender. “Fine, we don’t work together physically, but we work together. In the eyes of my bosses, you’re with me in the field. You report to me. I’m your contact.”

  “You won’t like that,” she muttered.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “I can assure you, you won’t be left out in the cold. If something happens, you’ll have backup, you’ll have resources and a weapon, if needed.”

  “Really, a weapon too?”

  “If needed.”

  “Tell me something,” Sarah said, leaning forward a little. “Do you believe in Vivian yet or do you still think I’m the psychic one?”

  He looked out the window. After a long moment, he turned back.

  “It’s not important what I believe in. I’ve had to evaluate my beliefs, examine them recently. What I came up with is that it’s plausible there’s a prime mover, a Yahweh, a God.”

  “I’m not talking about a biblical God. I want to know if you believe in the Other Side. Call it Heaven if you want, but there’s something and it’s good and it helps. Do you agree? I’ll know if you’re lying.”

  He stared at her and said, “Vivian proved her existence to me when you asked for the bomb-sniffing dogs. No one knew about the bombs, not even you. I could tell that you didn’t even know why you were asking for it, just that it was something written in your psychic notes. The way Russell called and warned you and then he knew to check into that hotel two days before you showed up on the roof. And to bring the garbage can lids.” He nodded a few times. “There’s something out there I don’t understand, but just because I don’t understand it, doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. So, now I’m a believer.”

  Sarah leaned back and winced at the sharp pain that shot across her ribs. Death had snapped two of the lower ones with his knuckles. They were healing nicely, but still ached when she turned a certain way.

  “I believe you,” she said.

  He reached inside his jacket and pulled out plane tickets, slapping them on the desk in front of her.

  “Your flight to Rome is two weeks away. That’ll give you enough time to organize your affairs and be ready. Do you speak any Italian?”

  “None.”

  “Learn some. You might need it.”

  She slipped the tickets off the desk and set them on her lap. “Payment?”

  “Considerable as a consultant. Deposited into an account of your choice. Oh, and how is Aaron going to take this?”

  “Smashingly.”

  “Keep all this confidential. The guy we’re going to Italy for is connected. His name is Sam ‘The Dealer’ Marconi.”

  “What’s he done that garnered the interest of the FBI?”

  “He’s murdered a few high-level Costra Nostra men.”

  “Like a Mafia hit man?”

  “Yes, but he’s gone astray.”

  “Why are the Italian authorities asking for your help?”

  “Because Sam Marconi is American. They’ve asked for us to come pick up our boy.”

  “American? With a name like that?”

  “Italian parents. Born here, though. Lived in Italy since he was a child. Grew up on the streets of Napoli. I’ll give you the file when we’re on the plane. Just keep the fact that you’re going to Italy between you and Aaron.”

  “I don’t advertise to the world what I do. I’m not on Facebook, you know. But why the secrecy in Toronto? Is he that connected?”

  Kierian leaned back in Lyson’s chair. “We were tasked to pick this guy up a year ago.”

  “So?”

  “The four agents who went to Italy all came back in body bags. So far no one has made it home alive. I volunteered, but only if I could take you. Now that you’ve agreed, we fly out in two weeks.”

  “Great.”

  Chapter 48

  Aaron set his wine glass down on the counter so hard Sarah thought he broke it.

  “Are you kidding me?”

  Sarah had wondered what his response would be. She’d prepared an authentic Italian meal all the way down to the wine, a Brunello Di Montalcino, from the Tuscan region. By prepared a meal, that meant she had heated the store-bought lasagna in the oven, an organic one, with extra meat.

  “Look, I know this isn’t what you wanted to hear,” Sarah said. “But raising your voice will only piss me off. You don’t want my last ten days in Toronto with me beating on you.”

  “You won’t be beating anyone with those ribs. I’m not worried.” He left the kitchen. “Come on, we’ll talk in the living room.”

  She followed him. He stood by the large window that looked onto the balcony. It was snowing again.

  “When were you planning on telling me?” Aaron asked.

  “Uhm, now. What kind of question is that? I just told you.”

  He turned around to face her. She walked over and p
lopped down in the recliner.

  “Sarah, look what happened to your cousin. To us. We were almost killed in that warehouse. If I hadn’t knocked Martin onto you, that cement piece that cut him in half would’ve killed you. Are you sure you still want this life?”