Chicagoland by Gail Martin (important books to read TXT) 📕

He’d shown plenty of arrogance making a move on Capone’s territory so soon after the mobster’s arrest, so maybe Duval figured he was invincible. Lassiter Davis hadn’t seemed worried about Duval, but clearly no love was lost between the two.

The cabbie dropped us off. I noticed a dog lurking by the lamppost, the fourth or fifth I’d seen today, starting with one outside the hotel and two in the park where I met Eddie. Someone needed to do something about all the strays. Then again, as long as the dogs weren’t hellhounds, it wasn’t my problem.

I sized up the area. The cold evening meant no one lounged at outdoor tables along the row of restaurants, but from what I could see through the big plate-glass windows, the tables inside already looked packed. I didn’t mind the cold as much as I used to when I was mortal, but the wind off the lake was something else entirely, worse here than in Cleveland.

A garbage truck sat parked or broken down across the street, without its crew at this hour. Cars lined both sides of the curb. One of those was Ness’s bulletproof Buick. He must have been keeping watch because he got out when he saw us, and West and I once again closed ranks on either side like a security detail.

“Duval say what he wanted?” West asked as we walked toward the restaurant.

“Said he had something to hand off to us, something that would help us put Capone away for good,” Ness said. The turned-up collar of his coat and slouched angle of his hat made his face difficult to see—no doubt exactly what he intended.

“You believe him?” I asked.

“No. And even if he does have the goods, it’s because he’s seen a way to advance his own cause, not because he’s an upstanding citizen,” Ness replied.

“Could be a trap.” From the stiff way West held his shoulders and the slight turn of his head as he scanned for danger, I guessed he and I were on the same wavelength as far as anticipating trouble.

“Of course it’s a trap,” Ness snapped. “Either the contents are bogus, or there’s an agenda behind giving them to me. Or he wants to kill me.”

I wondered if he wore an armored vest beneath his topcoat. That wouldn’t protect him from a head shot, but it ruled out a slug to the chest. I thought about praying to Krukis and decided to wait. If Duval really was a rougarou, he might sense my “otherness,” and I didn’t want to spook him. I didn’t know what Duval’s agenda might be, but I had my own—plenty of questions that needed answers.

Duval looked cool and collected as he loitered outside Tivoli, a classy sit-down restaurant that probably had good food if the aromas filling the air were any measure. He held a dark leather briefcase, just another businessman to the eyes of passers-by.

“Wasn’t sure you’d come,” Duval greeted Ness. He eyed West and me, and without him saying a word, I might have felt unwelcome if I actually cared. “Didn’t need to bring your troops.”

“Mutual interest,” Ness said in clipped tones. “What do you have for me?”

Duval’s gaze flickered from side to side, making sure we were still alone. “Copies of invoices, ledgers, bills of lading. Cooked books. What you’ve got has him iced for now, but it won’t hold him long. Prove he cheats on his taxes, and you might keep him locked up a while longer.”

“And what’s the price?” Ness clearly didn’t like Duval. I suspected the feeling was mutual, but Duval did better hiding his animosity. Or maybe he just wanted something.

“Capone’s unstable. Dangerous. He’s upset the balance. Take him out of the equation peacefully, and we can all get back to business as usual.”

Ness snorted, making it clear that he didn’t hold much with Duval’s idea of “business as usual,” but I was reminded that the enemy of my enemy was my ally, if not actually my friend.

Still, something struck me as off about Duval. For all that he feigned being unhurried, his body looked ready to spring. I saw the tightness at the corners of his eyes and mouth, the way his breath was shallow and fast. He knew something we didn’t.

“You want the papers or not?” Duval growled. “I’m sticking my neck out here helping you, not to mention being seen.”

I could see the calculation in Ness’s features, trying to figure out Duval’s angle. He knew this would come back to bite us on the ass in some way, but the allure of finally finding something that would put Capone away for good was nearly irresistible.

“Give ‘em here,” Ness said, holding out his hand. Duval offered the briefcase, and Ness took it.

“You didn’t get it from me,” Duval warned. “Now beat it before someone sees us.”

Duval turned and strode off in the opposite way we’d come. He moved a little too quickly as if trying not to run.

Shit. The briefcase is a bomb.

I shoved West in the direction Duval had gone. “Go! Get him!” In the same breath, I called on Krukis and prayed he was listening and felt speedy.

I felt the old god’s power shimmer over me in the same second that I launched myself at Ness and slammed him to the pavement beneath me. If that case went off, not only would Ness die, but it would blow out the restaurant windows, and a whole lot of civilians were likely to get badly hurt, or worse.

Ness groaned as I landed on him, and I hoped I hadn’t broken his ribs, saving his life. I pinned his body while I tried to rip the handle out of his grip. Stubborn to a fault, Ness didn’t let go, and I feared I’d have to break a finger or two. I had no idea how long of a timer was on the bomb, but Duval sure had seemed in a rush to be elsewhere.

I finally had the case and sent it