The Hard Bounce - [17]

“What do you want to know, Mr. Malone?”

“I know why you need us. What I don’t know is why you need us.”

“I’m not sure I understand your question.”

“If you just wanted a bruiser, you could throw a stick in Kenmore Square and it’d bounce off a dozen thick necks. Why us?”

Donnelly gave me another once over before he spoke.

“Certain people in my circle have been impressed with your company’s work. They are all of the impression that you are a capable, smart, and professional young man.”

I was getting the dick-around. So far, I hadn’t given him any evidence of being capable, smart, or professional. “Why us?”

“Because those men tell me that you understand when to use your discretion.”

“In other words, I can put my foot up the right asses and keep my mouth shut about on whose behalf I’m inserting it.”

The corner of Donnelly’s mouth curled, and he sucked his canine tooth. “Can I have one of your cigarettes, Mr. Malone?”

“I didn’t know you guys smoked anything but hundred-dollar cigars.”

“And we light them with checks stolen from welfare mothers. Are you going to give me one, or am I going to have to have Danny shoot you in the back of the head?”

I wasn’t sure whether he was kidding, so I reached into my pocket and popped a Parliament up in the pack with my index finger.

He took the cigarette. I lit it with my Zippo and he inhaled deeply, his eyes closed. “I haven’t smoked since my wife was pregnant. Congratulations. You’ve driven me back to it.”

“I drive most people to drink. Nice to know I can diversify.” I said it like I didn’t care, but I thought it was odd my attitude had a stronger effect than the stress over his missing daughter.

“Let’s cut to the chase, shall we? My daughter is a little bit spoiled and a lot of teenager. A hell-on-wheels combination no matter what the circumstances, and hers have been particularly rough. My wife, her mother, passed away three years ago and that hit us both hard.” He paused, his eyes going elsewhere for a moment, the loss of his wife still very much a surface wound. “I’m not going to win Father of the Year anytime soon, but I love my daughter very much. You commented before that I ‘misplaced’ Cassandra. I didn’t correct you. I did misplace her, as far as my priorities were concerned. When Cassandra’s mother died, I buried myself in my work, effectively losing my daughter in the process. I’ve made mistakes with her, and I realize this.” He coughed into his hand. “I need you to find her.”

“And do so before the papers catch on.”

“That would be optimal, yes.”

I shook my head, still trying to grasp it all. I’m paranoid by nature, but something still smelled like ass about the whole deal. “I hate to pick up the dead horse and carry it around the room, but I still can’t figure out the why and the us.”

Donnelly blew a short stream of smoke from his nostrils. “You have access that neither I nor my associates have. True?”

“True.” This was ground we’d already covered. I had the sudden impression that I’d walked into something pointy, face-first.

“I have access that you don’t.”

“What are you talking about?” A sick feeling began slithering around my gut. All of a sudden, the hand I’d been playing didn’t seem so hot.

“I may not be able to find my own daughter, but my office has access to information and people you don’t. State records and such. Records you might find valuable.”

The sick feeling started to spread. “Make your point.”

“Plain and simple. I can find somebody you can’t.”

Bang.

The fucker pulled an ace.

An emotion I’d thought long forgotten ricocheted painfully off my ribcage. He clearly saw me react, despite my best efforts to keep my expression neutral. Not only did I fail at neutrality, I just about puked on his very expensive-looking shoes.

His stare bore down into me. He had me by the short and curlies and damn well knew it.

“Can I count on your help, Mr. Malone?”

“Sure,” I mumbled through numb lips.

“Excellent. I’ll make sure Ms. Reese gives you all the information you’ll need.” He turned to go, then stopped, his back to me. He said, “When you saw her, how did she seem?”

I thought about that curious light in her eyes. “She seemed fine.” It felt like a lie.

He nodded slowly, then walked out. I started breathing again when headlight beams swirled in the windows as one of the sedans made a U-turn and then was gone.

My knees went out from under me, and I slid against a concrete pillar to the floor. I closed my eyes and concentrated on breathing slowly.

In the nose.

Out the mouth.

I didn’t puke, even though I still felt like I might.

I guess we were on the job.

I guess I didn’t have much of a choice.

If I could find Cassandra, he could find Emily.

This wasn’t about money. This wasn’t about my particular style of brawn. It was about information. He knew he could use that information to make me do the job.

He knew he could use me.

He could find Emily.

The possibility terrified me.

I was pissed at him for pulling that card. I was pissed at myself for not being able to tell him to shove that card up his ass. I should have. Why wasn’t I able to?