Shadow Rider
Page 40
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“B and E, multiple counts. Armed robbery. More importantly, he’s a sex offender. Two counts of aggravated rape. Served time on one of them. Several arrests after that, but every time since then the charges have been dropped. Stefano, each time, the alleged rape occurred in his building,” Romano warned. “He fancies himself a fighter, ex-boxer, and he likes to go to bars and beat the shit out of people. Again, the charges are always dropped.”
“He have family? Someone who would put pressure on the witnesses or victim for him?” Stefano asked.
“We’re still digging. The only person in his life that appears to be constant is his lawyer.” He glanced at his watch. “Facts are still coming in. Mamma e papa are still working that angle. Stefano, the lawyer is Adamo Bergenmire. He’s the head lawyer for the Saldi family.”
There was a small silence. “Damn it,” Enzo said softly. “We should have known that fucking family would be involved.”
Stefano shrugged. “We’ve already got a feud going with them. We have had for centuries. What the hell difference will it make if we piss them off again? I’m happy to stick it to them any chance we get. It’s not like the old days, Giovanni, when they could wipe out all of us in one shot. We got smart. They can’t get to all of us and they know it. They order a hit and someone’s going to be slitting their throats right in their bedrooms.”
“We don’t retaliate like they do, killing every man, woman and child,” Renato said. “Don’t have it in us and they know it.”
Stefano nodded. “But we’ve retaliated enough that the bosses fear us. They aren’t going to come after us because there’s a connection between Tidwell and the Saldi family. Hell, they’ll probably be happy to get rid of the pain in their ass. Let’s pay him a little visit.” Stefano glanced at Enzo. “You have men upstairs?”
“Do you need to ask? I called in half our crew to protect her. Ricco’s watching her door personally. Had a couple of nonresidents on the floor, but they left when they saw us. We weren’t trying to be invisible.” He sounded as grim as Stefano felt.
Romano knocked on the owner’s apartment door. Hard. Controlled anger in the sound. Within a minute the door was flung open, the occupant cursing at them. He was a big man, bald, with roped muscles and a scowl meant to intimidate. He wore jeans and a wifebeater. There was a beer in his hand.
Stefano stepped into him, delivering a short, hard punch into the belly, and the man folded. Stefano walked him backward into the apartment, his men coming in behind him. Enzo closed the door and stood against it while Romano prowled through the apartment to ensure they were alone.
The room was messy, beer bottles everywhere. It stank of a combination of cigarettes and weed.
“You’re going to want to take a look at this, Stefano,” Romano said, poking his head out of the room at the far end of the apartment.
Stefano skirted around Tidwell and glanced into the bedroom. There was a bank of screens set up along one wall. Each screen showed an occupant’s bedroom. A recorder displayed a green light beneath each screen, clearly spying on the women dressing, undressing, bringing in men and performing various sexual acts meant to be strictly private. Rows of labeled home-recorded DVDs were on the shelves.
Stefano immediately suspected this was why the charges of rape had been dropped. Tidwell showed his victims tapes and threatened to put them on the Internet. The third screen from the left showed Francesca asleep on a sleeping bag in the corner of the room, her long hair spread across a pillow. There was no furniture in the room at all. His coat hung on a single hanger above her head. In the opposite corner was a small bag. He presumed her clothes were in it.
He ran his fingers along the DVDs, finding the latest ones, the recordings labeled Francesca. He shoved one in the player and watched as Francesca walked through her door. She turned and pressed the lock and looked around the empty room. She was in his coat. His stomach settled just a little, feeling as if she at least had that protection. Very carefully she shrugged out of his coat and hung it on the only hanger. She stood in front of it, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles, her hands lingering. He liked that. Too much. His gut tightened. She looked vulnerable. Sad. His heart clenched. She pulled her blouse over her head and very carefully folded it, standing in her bra and jeans. Rage ripped through him.
Bart Tidwell had watched his woman undress and shower. He’d violated her privacy. Invaded her home. Swearing, Stefano watched as she stepped into the shower to start the water. Her hands went to the back of her bra and he switched the video off. Gathering up everything that said Francesca, including the one still recording, he caught up one more that he was certain depicted a rape—just in case he had no choice but to prove to Francesca he was telling the truth when he took her the hell out of there. He had a feeling she’d resist, and he wasn’t about to let her stay.
“He have family? Someone who would put pressure on the witnesses or victim for him?” Stefano asked.
“We’re still digging. The only person in his life that appears to be constant is his lawyer.” He glanced at his watch. “Facts are still coming in. Mamma e papa are still working that angle. Stefano, the lawyer is Adamo Bergenmire. He’s the head lawyer for the Saldi family.”
There was a small silence. “Damn it,” Enzo said softly. “We should have known that fucking family would be involved.”
Stefano shrugged. “We’ve already got a feud going with them. We have had for centuries. What the hell difference will it make if we piss them off again? I’m happy to stick it to them any chance we get. It’s not like the old days, Giovanni, when they could wipe out all of us in one shot. We got smart. They can’t get to all of us and they know it. They order a hit and someone’s going to be slitting their throats right in their bedrooms.”
“We don’t retaliate like they do, killing every man, woman and child,” Renato said. “Don’t have it in us and they know it.”
Stefano nodded. “But we’ve retaliated enough that the bosses fear us. They aren’t going to come after us because there’s a connection between Tidwell and the Saldi family. Hell, they’ll probably be happy to get rid of the pain in their ass. Let’s pay him a little visit.” Stefano glanced at Enzo. “You have men upstairs?”
“Do you need to ask? I called in half our crew to protect her. Ricco’s watching her door personally. Had a couple of nonresidents on the floor, but they left when they saw us. We weren’t trying to be invisible.” He sounded as grim as Stefano felt.
Romano knocked on the owner’s apartment door. Hard. Controlled anger in the sound. Within a minute the door was flung open, the occupant cursing at them. He was a big man, bald, with roped muscles and a scowl meant to intimidate. He wore jeans and a wifebeater. There was a beer in his hand.
Stefano stepped into him, delivering a short, hard punch into the belly, and the man folded. Stefano walked him backward into the apartment, his men coming in behind him. Enzo closed the door and stood against it while Romano prowled through the apartment to ensure they were alone.
The room was messy, beer bottles everywhere. It stank of a combination of cigarettes and weed.
“You’re going to want to take a look at this, Stefano,” Romano said, poking his head out of the room at the far end of the apartment.
Stefano skirted around Tidwell and glanced into the bedroom. There was a bank of screens set up along one wall. Each screen showed an occupant’s bedroom. A recorder displayed a green light beneath each screen, clearly spying on the women dressing, undressing, bringing in men and performing various sexual acts meant to be strictly private. Rows of labeled home-recorded DVDs were on the shelves.
Stefano immediately suspected this was why the charges of rape had been dropped. Tidwell showed his victims tapes and threatened to put them on the Internet. The third screen from the left showed Francesca asleep on a sleeping bag in the corner of the room, her long hair spread across a pillow. There was no furniture in the room at all. His coat hung on a single hanger above her head. In the opposite corner was a small bag. He presumed her clothes were in it.
He ran his fingers along the DVDs, finding the latest ones, the recordings labeled Francesca. He shoved one in the player and watched as Francesca walked through her door. She turned and pressed the lock and looked around the empty room. She was in his coat. His stomach settled just a little, feeling as if she at least had that protection. Very carefully she shrugged out of his coat and hung it on the only hanger. She stood in front of it, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles, her hands lingering. He liked that. Too much. His gut tightened. She looked vulnerable. Sad. His heart clenched. She pulled her blouse over her head and very carefully folded it, standing in her bra and jeans. Rage ripped through him.
Bart Tidwell had watched his woman undress and shower. He’d violated her privacy. Invaded her home. Swearing, Stefano watched as she stepped into the shower to start the water. Her hands went to the back of her bra and he switched the video off. Gathering up everything that said Francesca, including the one still recording, he caught up one more that he was certain depicted a rape—just in case he had no choice but to prove to Francesca he was telling the truth when he took her the hell out of there. He had a feeling she’d resist, and he wasn’t about to let her stay.
