Two Wilde Weeks (A Tommy Wilde Thriller Book 2) Read online

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  Two Wilde Weeks

  A Tommy Wilde Thriller

  Book 2

  Patrick Logan

  Two Wilde Weeks

  Prologue

  PART I

  The Stories of the Dead

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  PART II

  An Unlikely Ally

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  PART III

  Paying Off Debts

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Epilogue

  END

  Author’s Note

  Other Books by Patrick Logan

  Two Wilde Weeks

  Prologue

  “Forgive me father, for I have sinned.” Tommy Wilde sighed. “It’s been two weeks since my last confession.”

  “Welcome, Tommy. May God have mercy on you and your confession,” Father Miller replied, his voice calm and even.

  Tommy opened his mouth to speak, only to close it again before any words came out.

  It wasn’t that he was concerned about admitting what he’d done to Father Miller—not only was the man bound by confidentiality, but they’d known each other for decades—but it was something else entirely.

  Something more personal.

  “Take your time, my son. And remember, the only way to seek forgiveness for your sins is to express them to our Lord.”

  Admitting what he’d done somehow made it more real, more tangible. Tommy knew this to be a ridiculous concept—the consequences of his actions existed whether spoken or not—but that didn’t quell the voice inside him.

  The one that suggested that it would be better to forget, to block out all the things that caused him pain and suffering.

  But that wasn’t an option, either; Tommy sought—no, he craved—absolution.

  Two weeks ago, he was just a regular guy trying to build his business, trying to figure out how to make ends meet.

  Now, his focus had shifted to just staying alive.

  “I can’t… Father, I can’t believe what I’ve done,” Tommy said at last. “I can’t believe what I’ve become.”

  “Tommy, our choices do not define us. They are but a snapshot of a moment in time, not an encapsulation of our entire self.”

  Tommy mulled over the priest’s words for several moments before replying.

  But what if everything you’ve done over the past two weeks is reprehensible? Condemnable? At what point do you stop being who you used to be and become who you are now?

  Tommy stared at the pink scar where his pinky finger used to be.

  I didn’t want any of this… it wasn’t my fault.

  He reached into his pocket and felt the wad of bills within.

  But maybe I deserve it. Maybe I’m being punished.

  “Tommy, remember that this church, the house of our Lord, is a sacred place—”

  Tommy pulled the money out and held it in the palm of his hand.

  “Last time,” he began, interrupting Father Miller, “last time you said that all sins can be forgiven.”

  The priest’s reply was immediate.

  “Every sin is forgivable, Tommy. All you need to do in the eyes of the Lord is to ask for forgiveness. You need to admit everything you’ve done, and you need to repent. Then He will have mercy on your soul.”

  Deep in thought now, Tommy thumbed the wad of bills, which he knew amounted to at exactly ten thousand dollars.

  Both he and his brother had been coming to Our Lady of Assumption since they were kids, since they had nowhere else to go to avoid the violence and abuse at home. And ever since that time, Tommy knew that the church was starving for money. Local donations would only go so far, especially in this neighborhood, and not even a Holy Place was immune to the pressures of real life.

  It was only a matter of time before a developer came in and scooped the church up. Sure, they would make all the appropriate claims and promises—a bigger, better church somewhere else in the city—but it wouldn’t be the same.

  A new sign, a new building, a new priest?

  This was the only place Tommy could come to get any peace, which he sorely needed given just how wrong things had turned out over the past two weeks.

  And he would only come here, to this location, to speak to Father Miller.

  Nothing else would suffice—nothing else would work.

  Tommy licked his lips and cleared his throat.

  “Everything? I have to admit to everything?”

  “Yes, Tommy. Everything is forgivable, so long as you admit what you’ve done.”

  Tommy took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

  “Father, I’ve committed the ultimate sin. I’ve committed murder.”

  PART I

  The Stories of the Dead

  Chapter 1

  Two Weeks Ago

  Tommy pushed with both feet, trying to knock his assailant backward, to send them both crashing to the floor. But whoever had put the bag over his head was thick and heavily muscled. Instead of falling, Tommy was hoisted into the air.

  The person grabbing him in the bearhug had pinned his arms to his sides, so Tommy tried to fire his head backward, but all he struck was air.

  His assailant was shorter than he was but other than that, Tommy had no other information to go on.

  All he knew was that he was in a load of trouble.

  Again.

  “Let me go!” he screamed. “Let me go!”

  The sound was nearly deafening inside the thick hood.

  Moving backward at an alarming pace, Tommy realized that he was outside now.

  He shouted again, this time for help, but something—a hand, maybe—was placed across his mouth. Tommy tried to bite it, but all he got for his efforts was a mouthful of foul-tasting sac.

  He gagged and shook his head from side to side in an attempt to clear his airway and breathe again.

  There are two of them, his fragile mind told him. One holding you in the air and another covering your mouth.

  Just as he came to this realization, the hand laced across his face suddenly pulled away, and the bearhug loosened.

  Tommy only had time to suck in a huge breath before he felt his hands being wrenched behind him and bound together with what he suspected was a zip tie. Thinking that this might be his only chance to get away, he kicked his heels back and finally made contact with something hard.

  He heard a man grunt, and for the first time since being grabbed, the toes o
f his shoes struck the pavement.

  But Tommy didn’t get the chance to run blindly across his driveway. Something solid struck him in the gut, and he immediately doubled over, once again struggling to breathe.

  His diaphragm paralyzed, Tommy was certain that this was it; that he was going to die.

  That someone was going to murder him right here on his driveway and he would never know who.

  Tommy croaked as his doubled-over frame was straightened and he was picked up by his shoulders and ankles.

  He heard a car door open, and then was thrown into what he assumed was the back seat.

  A hearse… they put me in a hearse, he thought. They’re going to drive me to a cemetery and make me dig my own grave.

  As tires squealed and the vehicle rocketed into reverse, Tommy finally managed to breathe again.

  And it was the most amazing feeling he’d ever experienced. Oxygen flooded his system, causing his fingertips to tingle… or maybe that was just pins and needles from the overtightened zip tie.

  Either way, after four huge breaths, Tommy had finally recovered enough to speak again. And lying flat in the backseat meant that there was little chance of a hand stifling his words now.

  “Let me fucking go!”

  When there was no reply, Tommy decided to take a different approach.

  After all, what did it matter what he said?

  A dead man’s words always fell on deaf ears.

  “Do you know who I am? Do you even fucking know who I am?”

  When his shouts were again met with silence, Tommy start to kick wildly.

  “Do you motherfuckers even know who I am?”

  This proved to be a mistake. He felt the pressure in the backseat change, and he tensed his gut, expecting another blow to come.

  Instead, rough hands grabbed his ankles. Tommy instinctively tried to wriggle free, but whoever was holding him evidently had experience in subduing captives.

  In seconds, his ankles, like his wrists, were bound by a zip tie.

  “What do you want?” Tommy demanded, changing his tactics once more. “What do you want with me?”

  He still had no idea who had taken him, or why. If he hadn’t been so exhausted, Tommy might have been able to come up with a list of people who might want to hurt him—starting with Nick Petrazzino and his crew—but all he could think of, inexplicably, was Dustin.

  “I’m sorry,” he grumbled softly, unsure if his captors could hear him through the thick hood. “I’m fucking sorry, alright?”

  Realizing that whoever had taken him must have been pros, Tommy now decided to save his breath. Instead, he focused on the car, on what turns the driver was taking, in case he might survive long enough to actually find this information useful. But Tommy quickly gave this up, as well.

  Lying on his side, he wasn’t even sure which way was left or right and with only the sound of his breathing inside his hood, Tommy quickly lost track of time. He even thought that he’d passed out for a few minutes when the car suddenly came to an abrupt halt.

  “Where am I?” he asked, his voice more desperate than enraged now.

  No answer.

  When the door at his feet was opened, Tommy tried to push himself in the opposite direction, only to bang the crown of his head against the other door.

  Thick hands wrenched him out of the car, and he found himself back in a bearhug again, only this time Tommy had no fight left in him.

  He was carried about ten paces and then lowered to the ground. Even when the arms around him released their hold, Tommy knew better than to try and run.

  “Where am I?” he asked, his words dripping with fear now.

  In addition to the sound of his own voice, he heard something else now, something that sounded like moving water.

  Tommy felt the hood tighten as someone grabbed the back of it, and then it was yanked clear off.

  “Fuck!” he screamed as he stared into a raging river below. “Fuck!”

  Chapter 2

  “Get me down from here!” Tommy shouted. “Get me down!”

  He was dangling off the side of a bridge, only twenty feet or so from a fast-moving body of water.

  “Where’s our money, Tommy?” a familiar voice demanded.

  Tommy tried to crane his head around, but as he did, he felt his feet start to slip.

  The man grabbed the zip tie around his wrists to prevent him from falling.

  “Don’t let go! Don’t let me go!”

  “Where’s our money?”

  “Marv, this is fucking crazy! Please, get me down from here! For Christ’s sake, let me down!”

  “What’s crazy is that you didn’t bring us our money,” Officer Marvin Pendergast shot back.

  “I’ll get it, I’ll get it, I swear. Just—please—get me down from here!”

  “That’s what you said last night, Tommy, when I had a gun to your head. But apparently, you didn’t get the message.”

  “Marv—Marv, you’re going to kill me over three grand? I’ll get your money… I just need some more time,” Tommy pleaded, his eyes locked on the water.

  “It was three grand yesterday, Tommy. It’s four today.”

  “Four?”

  “You want to make it five? Let’s make it five, then.”

  Tommy opened his mouth to complain again but caught himself. Saying anything else would only cause the number to escalate.

  “All right, Scooter, I think he got the fucking picture this time. Pull him back from the ledge.”

  Still holding his zip tie with one hand, Officer Scott Spencer wrapped his other arm around Tommy’s waist and hoisted him back into the center of the bridge.

  When he let go, Tommy fell to his knees, wanting to kiss the ground… which looked oddly familiar.

  What the hell?

  His eyes whipped around, moving from a grinning Marv to Scooter, who was sporting a thick black mustache, to the wooden fence surrounding the abandoned construction site behind him.

  The bridge…Jesus Christ, I’m on Intention Bridge.

  “I thought it was ironic,” Marv said with a chuckle. “After my shift ended and you still hadn’t shown up, I thought to myself: how can I teach this Tommy character a lesson? And then I thought about last night and finding you here. I figured I’d bring you back. And I kinda like it here…” Marv nodded as he surveyed the area. “It’s quiet and ain’t nobody gonna bother us here. Isn’t that right, Scooter?”

  Scooter twitched his mustache, clearly something he was still trying to perfect with this new look of his.

  “Hell, yeah.”

  Tommy tried to rise to his feet, but this was a formidable task with both his wrists and ankles bound.

  He failed.

  “Scooter, cut his ankles free. But leave his hands tied up in case our man Tommy Wilde gets a little frisky.”

  Scooter nodded, pulled a switchblade from his pocket, and walked behind Tommy. Tommy kept his eyes locked on Marv as his partner cut his ankles free.

  He sighed and stretched his hips before rising to his feet.

  “What happened to your hand?” Scooter asked as he reappeared in front of him. Both men had matching grins on their faces now. “Someone else pressing you for cash, Big Tom?”

  The comment was so spot on that Tommy just stared for a moment. When Scooter’s smile started to slip, he quickly spoke up.

  “No… no, just an accident at work. Can you please cut my wrists free?”

  Scooter looked at Marv, who shook his head.

  “Naw, I think we’ll keep ‘em that way, Tommy. For our protection. I’m sure you understand.”

  I don’t understand any of this!

  “I won’t do anything. Please.”

  Marv’s expression hardened.

  “I know you won’t because your hands will stay tied.”

  Tommy swallowed hard, knowing better than to argue with either of the police officers.

  “Don’t look so sad, Tommy,” Scooter offered. “It’s five fuckin
g grand, that’s it. Pennies for a big business owner like you. Just pay up and you’ll be fine.”

  Tommy didn’t have five grand. He didn’t even have a hundred dollars to his name.

  “Where am I supposed to—”

  Marv, predicting the rest of his sentence, pre-emptively cut him off.

  “Don’t give a fuck. Rob your grandma, sell a kidney. But you’re going to pay, Tommy. And this is your last chance. Do you understand me? Because I’m not fucking around anymore.”

  Anymore? Anymore? You already put a gun to my head and nearly dropped me into a river!

  Tommy wasn’t sure exactly how far these two men in uniform would go if he didn’t produce the cash, but wherever they stopped—if they stopped—Nick would pick up the slack.

  If Marv and Scooter didn’t continue to send jobs his way, he would fall just a wee bit short of the man’s monthly hundred grand stipend.

  “Yeah,” Tommy said softly. “I get it.”

  “Do you? Do you fucking get it, Tommy? Because you’re not acting like you fucking get it,” Marv remarked.

  Tommy shook his head.

  “I’ll get your money.”

  “Yeah, I know you will—cuz you’re a smart boy. But just in case you ever think about stopping being smart and being stupid, Scooter has a video to show you.”

  Tommy’s eyes shot up.

  A video?

  Scooter removed his cell phone from his pocket.

  “Check it out,” he said with a grin, turning the phone around.

  Tommy nearly gasped when he saw the exterior of Our Lady of Assumption on the small screen.

  “Where did you get this from?” he asked, his throat suddenly dry. “Where did—”

  “Never fucking mind where I got it from. Just watch.”

  Tommy could feel his body start to rock his heart was pounding so hard in his chest.

  In the video, he saw a slender man with brown hair hurry toward the church only to pause outside the front doors. The man shook his head as if convincing himself of something, before looking up and then heading toward the alleyway behind the church and exited of the frame.

  “For the record, we know your dipshit brother went inside,” Scooter said matter-of-factly.