Don’t Blink

I was shooting the breeze with Marie a little more when I heard another voice at the door. “Knock, knock,” said David Sorren.

Marie turned to him as he strolled in. “You must be somebody important because that cop posted outside the door isn’t supposed to let anyone by him.”

“Yeah, he’s somebody important,” I assured Marie. “In fact, you might be looking at the next mayor of this city.”

David introduced himself and was as pleasant as a good politician could be with her. Still, I could tell he wanted to speak to me privately. Marie picked up on it, too. She left us alone.

David removed his jacket, placing it on the chair in the corner. Then he turned to me with what he knew was some very good news.

“Bruno Torenzi is dead,” he a

I shook my head, but I was gri

Sorren explained how Torenzi had been found during a sweep of the surrounding area near the blown-up train. He said there had been another dead body with him, a Russian crime boss. Go figure.

“So, wait… who did Torenzi work for? Was it D’zorio – or this guy Belova?” I asked.

“Good question. It was probably D’zorio, but for all I know right now they could’ve been working together. Setting up Eddie Pinero was in both their interests. Anyway, we’ll sort it all out soon enough, especially when we bring in that manager from Lombardo’s who mixed it up with you. He was on somebody’s payroll.”

Sorren glanced back at my door. “In the meantime, with Torenzi, D’zorio, and Belova out of the picture, the need for that cop outside your door just went down dramatically. Same goes for at your apartment, Nick.”

“Hallelujah,” I said. “Oh, and don’t forget to put Carmine Zambratta on that list. He’s gone, too.”

“You’re right,” said Sorren. “In fact, that reminds me – there’s one other thing.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s about Dwayne Robinson. As you probably suspected, he didn’t commit suicide. As soon as the news about D’zorio’s death hit the airwaves, a guy who lived in the building across the street from Robinson came forward to say he saw Zambratta throw him over the railing.”

“Why didn’t the neighbor say anything before? Not very neighborly.”

“He was too scared. He knew who Zambratta was and what he was capable of. Hell, he witnessed it, didn’t he?”

“I guess you’re right,” I said.

Sorren folded his arms, hesitating for a moment. “Listen, Nick, I owe you an apology. I really do. You were way out in front on this whole thing and I should’ve seen that better. Instead of helping you at first I gave you a hard time, didn’t I?”

I smiled. “Yeah, you did,” I said. “What’s important now, though, is that it’s over.”

We shook hands. Then we both shook our heads, chuckling in disbelief. It was an amazing end to an amazing day, and to an amazing story.

But I should’ve known better, I guess. The day wasn’t actually over. It was still a little before midnight. Plenty of time for more fun and games.

Chapter 104

THE VICODIN WERE doing their thing, easing the pain while making me drowsy. Minutes after David Sorren left, I started to doze off. I barely heard the creak of the door opening again.

It was Marie, I assumed. I didn’t bother to look over right away – or even open my eyes. But as she walked toward me my ears perked up. This wasn’t the sound of soft rubber soles. I was hearing heels – heavy ones. These shoes belonged to a man. What man was that?

My eyes shot open.

“Hello, Nick,” said Ian LaGrange. Quick as could be, he grabbed the cord of my call button and sliced through it with a knife.

Then he jammed the tip of the knife underneath my chin. I could feel the blade pierce my flesh enough to send blood trickling down over my Adam’s apple.

“What do you want?”

“You know what I want, Nick. Because you have it. Where’s the flash drive?”

Jesus Christ. In the chaos, the confusion, and the Vicodin, I’d forgotten about that. Clearly, LaGrange hadn’t. But how did he even know it existed? And what was with the knife at my throat?

“What are you talking about?” I asked him. “What flash drive?”

“You stupid bastard, don’t even try,” he snapped. “I know you had it.”

LaGrange twisted the tip of the blade slightly. More blood started ru

“You’re right, I did have the flash drive,” I said. “D’zorio took it away from me before I got a chance to see what was on it. I don’t have it anymore.”

LaGrange squinted, sizing me up. He was trying to decide if I was telling the truth. And I guess he decided that I was.

“In that case, what good are you?” he asked, snatching the pillow from behind my head. The pillow? You’re kidding me…

He wasn’t – not one bit. He slammed it over my face, forcing the enormous weight of his upper body against my nose and mouth. I couldn’t breathe. That was the idea, of course.

The more I struggled, the harder LaGrange pressed, all three hundred pounds of the bastard. No air was coming in. Whatever was left in my lungs was spilling out of me like life itself. I was losing consciousness in a hurry.

There was nothing I could do this time; I was definitely suffocating to death.

I didn’t see what happened next, but I sure heard it. Someone came bursting through the door of my room. Not a word was spoken, but a gunshot was fired.

Ian LaGrange fell to the ground with a horrendous thud. He even took the pillow with him, and as I blinked my eyes into focus and breathed the sweetest batch of air I’d ever known, I got to see who had pulled the trigger.

Not the cop who had been stationed outside the door.

Not Doug Keller of the FBI, either.

Chapter 105

“THIS GUY SHOULD be fitted for a cape!” raved the New York Post. David Sorren’s timing remained just about perfect two days later as he walked up to a podium on the top step of the Manhattan Criminal Courthouse and, with the sunlight of a beautiful day beaming down on him, looked out at a huge, enthusiastic crowd and a

By then, anyone with a pulse had either read or heard the story of how he had come back to my hospital room because he’d forgotten his jacket. That’s when he’d seen the cop on duty slumped in the hallway. Sorren had grabbed the gun from the cop’s holster, bursting into my room.

Needless to say, he had my vote come November, Republican or not.

Courtney’s, too, although she remained a tad suspect of Sorren’s judgment given his involvement with Brenda Evans.

“I mean, she can’t be that good in bed,” she quipped, standing next to me as we watched Sorren wrap up his a

Instead, I just laughed. Hey, I was feeling pretty terrific. Why not – Courtney and I were holding hands again. Corny? Maybe. But who cares when you’re in love?

“So what’s the big news you weren’t ready to tell me?” I asked, changing the subject.

“I knew you’d ask, Nick,” she said, reaching into her handbag. She handed me a press release. “Courtney Sheppard named editor in chief of New York magazine,” read the headline.

“Wow,” I said. “Congratulations. That is great.”

“Right back atcha,” she said. “Have you met my new executive editor? Cute guy, very talented. Great kisser.”

“Really? Do I know him?”

She playfully punched my arm and I grabbed hers in return, pulling her close. “Great kisser, huh?” I said before planting one on her. And right there in the middle of the roaring crowd we made out like a couple of teenagers.