The Devil Inside Part 19

"What are you, a walking historian of old city architecture?" He had never heard of the business, much less what building it had occupied.

"Yeah, I'm a genius who can read the company name and logo on the side of the building, even though it's faded. Hurry up and bring the audio booster with you, and be careful on the stairs. They were a little shaky when Lionel and I went up."

"A little shaky? I'd hate to see what you would consider dangerous." Lionel looked through his binoculars and laughed, thinking of the four times they had almost fallen through the wooden steps on the five flights up.

"Shut up and tell me everything's working perfectly, and we're taping all of this?"

"Chill, Shelby, we're getting it all, and man oh man."

Lionel Jones was a mousy-looking little man who was never mistaken, at any time or by anyone, for a law enforcement officer of any kind. Fine brown hair and a milky white complexion, no matter the time of year, made him the focus of more than one bully on the playground that had been his life. He had pa.s.sed the FBI's grueling requirements, not with speed on the obstacle course or high scores at the shooting range, but with his brain and computer capability. Kyle had been lucky to get him a.s.signed to the New Orleans office to help with the wiretaps and other surveillance they had set up for Cain's case.

He turned back to Shelby, and from the creases around his eyes caused by his big open smile, she could tell he was happy. She noticed, not for the first time, that he had the lushest, longest eyelashes she had ever seen on anyone, male or female.

"What's got you so rocked today, Li?"

"You ever feel like a big bucket of s.h.i.t and those two guys down there are a fan?"

"Don't worry about it, Li. We're high up enough here to come out of this smelling like veritable roses, once the manure settles down. Glad you guys could join the party. Took you long enough, don't you think?" She could hear the heavy breathing behind them, but she couldn't take her eyes off the meeting on the wharf.

"This had better be d.a.m.ned good, Shelby. I think we almost met a very messy end at least twice on those d.a.m.ned stairs." Anthony put down the equipment she had asked for and waited for someone to explain what he was doing there. Lionel handed him the pair of binoculars he had been using so he could add the new piece of equipment to what he had already set up.

"What's so interesting down on the water?"

"Jesus, Tony, could you just stand up here and wave a red flag so they'll see us."

"Please don't call me that. Anthony. Is it so hard to remember?" he asked, as he reached the level of the short retaining wall that ran the perimeter of the roofline. "Oh my G.o.d, is that...?"

"Yes, I would say this confirms everything in that box Cain gave us."

Joe nodded as he adjusted his own set of lenses. "I just thought it was a big case of sour grapes on Cain's part when you first showed me all that stuff, but who would've guessed she'd turn out to be the cla.s.s act."

"Am I the only one having a huge problem with the fact that you all seem to be on a chummy first-name basis with the head of one of the city's crime bosses?" Anthony asked as he reached into his pocket for a roll of antacids.

Shelby leaned back against the small half wall and looked at her team members. "He's right, guys. This is your last chance if you want out. I promised a friend I'd do my job, and that's what I'm doing. If you think differently, it won't hurt me if you want to just climb down and forget about all this. Because I can't promise there won't be any fallout once this goes down." Just because she owed Cain didn't mean they did.

"I didn't mean it like that, Shelby. You're right. This is our job just as much as bringing down Cain is. It just stings that she was the one who uncovered this. I feel like I've had my head up my a.s.s to have missed something so big." Anthony reached over and patted her on the knee.

"She's really not all that bad, if you forget all the stuff she does for a living." She laughed and blushed a little, remembering the way Cain felt when she had pressed against her.

"Shelby, she's not worth losing your career over," said Anthony.

"The way I see it, Anthony, she's the one who'll launch our careers when all this is over. Can you live with that?"

Both Anthony and Joe looked back to the wharf and nodded, but Anthony answered for both of them. "I can live with that, if she isn't expecting anything in return."

"Maybe a nice dinner."

"We'll be happy to take her out for donuts."

All of them laughed at Anthony before they continued to monitor the talk still taking place below them.

"My men tell me Cain's b.i.t.c.h is back in town sniffing around. Any truth to that?" Giovanni Bracato chewed on the end of the unlit cigar in his mouth and never took his eyes off the muddy, swirling waters of the Mississippi River. He had waited a long time for this day, and he didn't want anything messing it up.

Giovanni Bracato was what most people called swarthy when they were trying to avoid using the words "greasy" or "slimy," lest they be thought of as politically incorrect. Too much of the city's good food and liquor had put on the pounds over the years, and Big Gino, as he was known to his men, with his tight shiny suits and his trademark custom-made alligator shoes, looked like a movie rendition of a bad gangster.

Through the years the Bracato family had fought, along with all the other up-and-comers, for their piece of the city and their share of the action. The third-generation Italian Americans had chosen heroin and cocaine as the means to fill their coffers, setting them apart. They killed without hesitation or remorse, so people on the street had learned to fear the name. Forty years had pa.s.sed since the first Bracato had immigrated to the states. The family still controlled the biggest part of the drug trade in New Orleans, but Big Gino was ambitious. He wanted control of what the other three families in New Orleans owned.

Vincent Carlotti and his son had their unions, women, and rackets. The Bastillo family, with women, gambling, and protection services, was the newest addition to the city landscape. The Cuban-born Ramon Bastillo and his twins got along with Vincent and Cain and had formed an easy alliance with the two less radical families. With what Giovanni considered a wise but costly investment, all that was ending. After the night was done, the other three bosses would regret ever laughing at Giovanni Bracato.

"Don't you think you'd be the first person I'd call if the b.i.t.c.h was a problem?"

Giovanni glanced at the man standing next to him, bit off the soggy part of his cigar, and spat it in the water. "I don't really know you at all, so why don't you tell me this isn't a problem."

"It isn't a problem. Don't worry about anything. I've got this all under control. Try and remember that we both benefit from Cain's demise tonight. I'll hold up my end. Try not to forget yours."

"Don't worry, Fife. You'll get yours when I get mine." With a laugh, Giovanni walked back to his office and the small listening devices in the walls. He had been so good for so long that even the feds just monitored him from the main office.

When both men went on their way, the young guns watching on the roof scrambled for the stairs. They had a lot to do before the witching hour of Cain's operation, and they had their own list of people to meet with.

By seven, all the players were getting ready for the showdown. Those with a role in Cain's upcoming tableau felt like the city was doing her part to up the drama by dropping the temperature to almost freezing and enveloping the sky in a heavy blanket of gray, menacing clouds.

Jarvis didn't give out any more advice as he watched Emma come downstairs in a formfitting blue dress. It was the last gift Cain had bought her, and the color was Emma's favorite because it perfectly matched Cain's eyes.

A few blocks away the two Caseys headed to the door, dressed completely in black for their dinner reservation.

Merrick, Mook, and six others followed close behind, wearing long black coats that wouldn't come off that night unless they needed the firepower the fine wool fabric hid.

"Mom, is something going on?" asked Hayden.

"Sat.u.r.day night and the natives are restless, I guess, son."

"Nothing else?"

"Tomorrow I'll have a h.e.l.l of a story to tell, but for now think of this as a night to remember. Because for so many people it'll be a night hard to forget."

Chapter Twenty-Five.

The restaurant Irene's was dimly lit and full of soft conversations. Cain wanted to spend a few hours with Hayden before the business of the night started. "Hey, kiddo, thanks for having dinner with me. I want to talk to you." She sat back with a gla.s.s of iced tea, looked across the table at her son, and mentally clicked through her montage of memories. She relived the past years, which had given Hayden the fine-chiseled features that branded him a Casey.

"I'm kinda glad to get some time alone with you too. Maybe now you'll tell me what's going on. Please, Mom, I want to know, and it's not like Mook to be so quiet about stuff."

"Hayden, don't be in such a hurry to grow up, buddy. Life throws the years at your feet soon enough, so learn to enjoy each stage as it happens. When I was your age my main concern was a redheaded girl named Caroline who lived down the block."

"Grandpa didn't have you doing stuff? 'Cause uncle Jarvis told me he was always teaching you things." The paper on the sugar packet in Hayden's fingers was getting thin from his constant flicking.

"He was always teaching me things, that's true, but not always about what you think. When I was eleven it was how to get Caroline to realize I was alive. Why? Do you feel like I'm neglecting your education?"

"No...well, sort of." Hayden's shoulders caved in a little. "I want to be ready, you know?"

"For what?" A quick dip of her head to try and catch his eye didn't work, so she tapped her finger on the table.

"I want to be ready when it's my time. You make running the business look so easy, and I don't want to mess up."

"Kiddo, all this isn't carved in stone. Is running the business, the family, something you want to do? You have other career choices, you know."

"No, I want that more than anything, unless you think I'm not cut out for it."

"Lesson one, sit up straight and square your shoulders."

The defeated posture melted away as Hayden smiled and took her advice.

"You control your life, son, not the other way around."

"What else?"

"Just remember you're a Casey and you belong to me, but only for a little while. The day will come when it's your turn to pa.s.s down the traditions we've held dear for generations, and I promise you on everything I hold dear, you'll be ready."

"What'd you want to talk to me about?"

Cain drummed her fingers on the table as a delay tactic. Hayden wasn't going to like the rest of what she had to say, and in truth she could have just skipped the talk all together. Had they shared any other kind of relationship that was what she might have done. But the trust she had built with Hayden came from never lying to him, if she could help it, and preparing him for the worst.

"This is something my father told your uncle Billy and me when we were coming up. For Billy it made sense, but it forecast how my life would turn out."

"I thought he liked the way you turned out?"

The open look from Hayden toward her fingers made her stop the nervous habit.

"Yeah, he was proud of me and he loved me. Pop just didn't treat me any differently from Billy. He lived by certain rules, and because we were his kids he expected us not to stray too far from them."

Hayden sat up a little straighter and smiled as he sensed another Casey family treasure about to come out of the chest of his mother's memory. "Sometimes my one wish is that I'd known him."

"Oh, I think you, Hayden Dalton Casey, would have been one of his favorite subjects, so it's only appropriate for you to know his philosophy of life. To be a man, you've got to hold certain things sacred above everything else. To respect yourself so you can live with the decisions you'll have to make. To respect your wife because she's your mate and hopefully the mother of your children. To find someone whom you can trust with both your heart and your secrets. Being able to do that will give you a safe haven. The most important thing, though, is to respect your mother and your family. A man who doesn't respect them has no honor."

Hayden reacted as if he were a balloon and she had p.r.i.c.ked him with a pin. Her father had shared this philosophy at Hayden's age because it had something to do with the pretty little Caroline. For her the lesson was easy, but her mother Therese had always been supportive and loving, so much of a fixture in their lives they never thought about the day she wouldn't be. This lesson for Hayden, though, presented more of a moral dilemma.

During the past four years, Cain had raised a smart, caring boy who thought before he opened his mouth, unlike his uncle Billy. That was why she had taken Dalton's place when her father died. Hold your counsel, Cain, and only let those closest to you know your thoughts. To speak without thinking will lead you to an early grave, or to a very small cinder-block cell. She could remember her father telling her that over and over.

"Where does that leave us?" Hayden was like Cain's mother, with her sharp mind and matching wit.

Cain laughed and waited for the server to put their soup bowls down. "In a bit of a quandary, don't you think?"

He laughed along with her, straightened his shoulders, and sat up again.

"Buddy, I'm giving you a sense of where you come from. Once you know that, it's easier to get where you're going."

"She didn't respect us, so it's not so easy to respect her. Maybe with time?"

"Your mother's in town." She watched him jump up and storm out to the front of the restaurant, with Mook and Merrick in pursuit. "Well, that went well."

"Are you leaving, Cain?" The waiter came to remove the dishes and cancel their order, if that was what she wanted.

"No, just hold these and reheat them when I reel him back in. Tell George to hold off on the main courses. We won't be long." She b.u.t.toned her coat and almost laughed when the rest of the armed entourage followed her out. "I'm going to move to a farm in Wisconsin," she muttered. The guards were necessary, but they were tough in private moments.

"Stop walking, Hayden." Her voice carried down the sidewalk, and he took another five steps before he stopped. Rebellion is a good thing in small doses, but it only goes downhill from here the older he gets. The thought reminded her of her youth and the more than many times she had pushed her parents' patience.

"Why is she here?"

Cain walked half the distance between them. If Hayden wanted to have this conversation, it would not be a screaming match in the street.

The boy took the hint and closed the gap.

"If you want the answer, then I suggest you go back in there and sit down. If that's not agreeable, then we'll go home, but don't you walk out and give Bracato a free shot. You do that again, and Emma Casey won't be at the top of your list of concerns. We understand each other?"

Her voice left no room for discussion. Cain had never lifted a hand against him, and nothing he could ever do would push her over that line, but he never wanted to face the consequences of truly upsetting her. "Yes, ma'am."

Two fresh bowls of soup arrived, and both Caseys concentrated on eating. Cain consumed more than half her bowl before she started talking again. "To answer your question, she's here to make amends."

"It isn't that easy."

The napkin returned to her lap after she wiped her mouth. "Another important lesson in life, son, is the disappointment you'll feel when you find out everything isn't always about you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" His smile could only mean his good spirits had returned.

"That before you came along and became the center of our world, there was an us. In other words, we were capable of enjoying life before you were born. She's here to make amends to me."

"What are you asking me here? You want her back, and you need my permission?"

She laughed, glad that her own good humor had returned. "My, aren't we full of s.p.u.n.k tonight." She reached across the table and took his hand to keep him in his seat. "Go back and think of a time when you didn't hate her."

"Why?"

"Because tonight I need you to do that. Life's a gamble if you choose this way of living it, Hayden. If you learn anything at all from me, let it be that, and take it to heart before you accept the reins that'll look all too enticing. Responsibility is more than just getting to give orders. It's sometimes sacrificing everything and everyone you love in order to protect them."

"Why tonight?"

"Dammit, son, because I want what was once my safe haven to be yours, if it comes to that." She stopped talking and ran her fingers through her hair to calm down. Tonight was not the time to say something she would regret, or want him to look back later and feel the same way. The last meeting with her father was burned into her memory, down to the color of the sky when she turned to wave good-bye.

She wasn't planning for her life to end in the middle of her warehouse tonight, but if it did, her son would look back on this night as one where his mother sent him on his way with as much knowledge as she could cram into their short time together. "Whatever else I feel for your mother, I know she'll protect you."

"I don't need--"

"Yes, you do. You're eleven, so yes, you do."