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“But you’re no quitter, either,” Corey said, meeting Ed’s gaze, challenging him. “Are you? Because if you are, I’m not letting you take any of Aaron’s money with you.” All of which was still in their joint offshore account. “Look, I owe you a lot,” he said, deliberately parroting Ed’s words. “You’ve organized us and made this job easier and safer. I need you to finish this one final job. Then you can go your own way with your share of the money, and we’ll replace you. Eventually.”
Ed’s shoulders sagged. “I don’t want to go, Corey.”
“Then don’t. Instead, help me finish this job so that Trevor Doyle doesn’t send his triggermen after us.”
Ed blew out a breath. “Will you promise to go on a nice long break after this is done? We’ll find a house in the Caribbean and drink cocktails on the beach.” He leaned across the table, his expression imploring. “You’ve been pushing yourself hard ever since Liam died. You can’t see it, but I do. You’re grieving, just like Dianne. She crawls into the bottle. You crawl into your job. Your determination is becoming an obsession. Not a lot different from Aaron’s drug addiction,” he added gently. “You deserve a break. You need a break. We all do.”
The words hit Corey hard. He hadn’t had a break since... well, ever. He looked down at himself, realizing he’d pressed the heel of his hand to his chest. Because it hurt. Losing Liam had hurt. Grief hurt.
And for the first time he didn’t hate Aaron as much for killing that doctor. He still hated him, just not as much. Because grief sucked.
He released a shaking breath. “I promise. I will go with you guys to the Bahamas or wherever and I will take a break. But, Ed, I need to finish this job. Will you help me?”
Ed studied him for a long moment before nodding. “I will.” He opened his laptop. “So, I’ve been thinking about Cardozo. Alex, my guy in the NOPD, may not have all the answers that Bobby’s buddy has, but he’s still surveilling Cardozo’s house. He’s taken up residence in one of the neighbors’ homes. He’s watching through the front window and will use the neighbor’s car if he needs to leave. The NOPD patrolling Cardozo’s neighborhood aren’t stopping cars registered to the residents.”
“What did your guy do with the neighbor?”
Ed shrugged again. “I didn’t ask. I don’t want to know. Anyway, he says that the guys on patrol told him yesterday that bakery van—Marica’s—shows up at Cardozo’s place at least once a day. It parks in the driveway, right up close to the house.”
“So if we had the van, we could get close.”
“Yes, but the house is locked down. We’d have to get them to let us in or draw them out.”
“You’re thinking that we use the baker.”
Ed turned his screen to a photo of two smiling women. One was tall and fierce-looking. The other was small and wore a fifties-style dress. “The tall one is Jessica. The little one is her wife, MaryBeth.”
“I say we use the little one. The big one looks hard to control.”
“Agreed. The little one arrived at Cardozo’s house at five thirty this morning and left a little while ago. She arrived with a few bags with the bakery logo and left empty-handed.”
“So we hijack the van with the little one in it, take it to Cardozo’s, make her get out with some bags of food, and when they open the door, we rush in?”
“Cameras on the perimeter,” Ed said. “They’ll see you coming.” He poured two cups of coffee.
Corey gulped it down, the burn taking his mind off his throbbing arm. Fucking blond bitch. He’d make sure she’d paid for shooting him before he left town. “How about this? We hijack the van, drive it to Cardozo’s, force the little one out with bags of food and when she’s a foot away from the front door, we shoot her. Not dead. We want them to open the door to save her. And when they do that, we shoot our way inside.”
“That could work,” Ed said with a nod. “We won’t have much time. They’re sure to have the house alarmed. We’ll have a minute, tops, before the alarms go off. Probably less time than that. We’ll have to get in, get out.”
“I’ll get Cardozo. You get the kid. Cardozo will be a lot more cooperative about telling us where Bella is if we have his kid. Bobby can take care of the bodyguards.”
“I want the blonde,” Bobby said, drying his hair with a towel as he came in from the bathroom. “She and I need to have a chat.” He pointed to his chest, where a black bruise had spread over his pecs. “Look what the bitch did.”
Corey pointed to his arm. “I get dibs.”
Bobby dropped into a chair. “That’s fair. So Cardozo, his kid, and the woman are our targets, in order of importance?”
Corey nodded. “Sounds like a plan. Ed, can you ask your cop friend Alex to be ready to assist?”
“What are you going to want him to do?”
“Be prepared to shoot anyone who isn’t Cardozo, the kid, or the blonde.”
Ed considered it. “He can probably do that, as long as it can’t be traced to him. He likes his job on the force and wants to keep it. We don’t pay him enough for him to risk his job.”
“At least ask him. I feel better knowing we have coverage. How do we know where the baker’s van is?”
“I guess we wait outside the bakery,” Ed said.
