Carve the Heart Read online

  The Jack Palace Series

  Yard Dog

  Carve the Heart

  Copyright © A.G. Pasquella, 2019

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise (except for brief passages for purpose of review) without the prior permission of Dundurn Press. Permission to photocopy should be requested from Access Copyright.

  All characters in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Publisher: Scott Fraser | Editor: Allison Hirst

  Cover designer: Laura Boyle | Cover image: shutterstock.com/LesleyRigg

  Printer: Webcom, a division of Marquis Book Printing Inc.

  Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

  Title: Carve the heart / A.G. Pasquella.

  Names: Pasquella, A. G., author.

  Description: Series statement: Jack Palace series ; 2

  Identifiers: Canadiana (print) 20190086416 | Canadiana (ebook) 20190086475 | ISBN 9781459742499 (softcover) | ISBN 9781459742505 (PDF) | ISBN 9781459742512 (EPUB)

  Classification: LCC PS8631.A8255 C37 2019 | DDC C813/.6—dc23

  We acknowledge the support of the Canada Council for the Arts and the Ontario Arts Council for our publishing program. We also acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Ontario, through the Ontario Book Publishing Tax Credit and Ontario Creates, and the Government of Canada.

  Care has been taken to trace the ownership of copyright material used in this book. The author and the publisher welcome any information enabling them to rectify any references or credits in subsequent editions.

  The publisher is not responsible for websites or their content unless they are owned by the publisher.

  Printed and bound in Canada.

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  For Emma

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  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

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  CHAPTER 38

  CHAPTER 39

  CHAPTER 40

  CHAPTER 41

  CHAPTER 42

  CHAPTER 43

  CHAPTER 44

  CHAPTER 45

  CHAPTER 46

  CHAPTER 47

  CHAPTER 48

  CHAPTER 49

  CHAPTER 50

  CHAPTER 51

  CHAPTER 52

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  CHAPTER 1

  Real crime isn’t like it is in the movies. It’s not that glamorous. No one’s zipping around the Italian countryside in a little sports car loaded with gold. Real crime is stupid, ugly, and violent.

  The man in the alley had a woman pinned against a jet-black Cadillac Escalade. There was another man in the driver’s seat. Both of the men had slicked-back dark hair that was shaved on the sides. The man pinning the woman was wearing a dark-blue track suit with white piping along the legs. He had a shitty goatee sprouting from his chin like moss. The woman was taller than the man. She was wearing a black leather skirt and a white jacket. Her brown hair was pulled back in a sleek, long ponytail. Her eyes were red like she’d been crying. The man was muttering something and she was shaking her head “no.” I saw the man’s face curdle. He raised his hand to slap her.

  “Let her go.”

  Startled, the man turned toward me. Then he turned back to the woman. “Denise, I’m sorry. Baby, come on. I’m sorry.”

  Denise shook off the man and stepped away from the car. Her heels click-clacked on the concrete. She muttered, “Call the police,” as she walked away.

  I kept my eyes on the man. I could see his buddy peering at me in the driver’s side mirror. The man with the mossy goatee tilted his chin at me. “You gonna call the cops?”

  I nodded. “That’s what she asked me to do, so I’ll do it. But not just yet.”

  The man smirked. I hit him so hard his head snapped back and cracked against the car window.

  The guy in the driver’s seat fumbled with the door. I let him open it, then slammed it on him, hard. He yowled. I threw the door open and yanked the guy out. He blinked when he saw his buddy stretched out on the concrete. I hit him in the stomach and he doubled over, gasping.

  “You watch for the cops while your buddy beats up women, is that it?”

  The driver groaned, still doubled up. I could see a bald patch under his gel-slick hair. These guys were both wearing enough aftershave to start a small fire.

  “Give me your wallet.”

  “Come on, man.”

  “Wallet.”

  Coughing, the driver slapped his wallet into my hand. There was probably about three hundred bucks in crisp green twenties inside. I ignored the money and pulled out his driver’s licence. I made sure he saw me staring at his name, then I stuffed the licence back in the wallet and dropped it at his feet. “Well, Dimitri, now I know where you live. If you and Captain Asshole here” — I gave the man on the ground a nudge with the steel toe of my boot, making him grunt — “if you guys ever bother anyone else, I’ll come looking for you.” I reached into my jacket and pulled out a knife. I held it to Dimitri’s throat, the blade glittering in the light. “Understand?”

  “Y-yes.”

  I pointed to the man on the ground. “Go on, get your garbage and get the fuck out of here.”

  I tucked the knife back into its sheath beneath my jacket and strode down the alley. I stood watching as the driver stuffed the short man with the mossy goatee into the back seat of the Escalade. Then the driver pulled himself back into the driver’s seat and the vehicle peeled out of the alley. All aboard the Douche Express, last stop: who the fuck cares?

  A rusty door opened into the alley. My buddy Eddie Yao stood there in his charcoal-grey pinstripe suit, a chrome .45 in his hand. “All good?”

  I shook my head. “Assholes like that don’t learn. Do me a favour, will ya? Give the cops a call.”

  Eddie blinked. “What?”

  “She asked me to call.” I shrugged. “You still have a guy at the precinct, right?”

  Eddie nodded. “I’ll take care of it.” His eyes scanned the alley and then he beckoned me closer. “Come on down.”

  “Another time. I got Melody upstairs.” Melody and I had been drinking and getting frisky when the Escalade bros started roughing up the woman. You never treat a woman like that, especially not in the alley behind my office.

  Eddie tucked his .45 back into the shoulder holster beneath his suit jacket. He didn’t smile, but his eyes twinkled. “Trust me, Jack. You’re going
to want to see this.”

  I stepped through the doorway, and the heavy steel door slammed closed.

  I followed Eddie down a set of dingy stairs. It looked like the beginning of every horror movie ever. All it needed was a few bloody handprints on the wall. At the bottom was another door. Standing in front of the door was Eddie’s guy Josh, wearing a black suit that seemed to blend into the shadows. Josh nodded his head and opened the door.

  Once we passed through, the whole horror-show vibe disappeared. This was Eddie’s basement casino, and it was classy, man, classy. Deep-maroon walls and polished oak chairs. Croupiers and dealers in maroon vests and black bowties. The gamblers were a different story. Eddie’s place attracted them all: the whales, the sharks, the donkeys, and the grinders. Everyone was trying to turn cards into money. An acne-scarred man with mirrored sunglasses and a straw cowboy hat tapped the felt at one of the blackjack tables, calling for one more card. As Eddie and I walked past the tables, no one looked up.

  Eddie opened the door to his office and grinned. “After you.”

  “I hate it when you’re all mysterious and shit.”

  Eddie’s eyes twinkled again. He gestured toward the open door.

  I stepped inside and froze. There was a beautiful woman sitting behind Eddie’s desk. She had pale skin, dark eyes, and jet-black hair. She was wearing a black turtleneck and a light-grey blazer. Her silver earrings caught the light as she turned toward the door. We made eye contact. She didn’t smile.

  “Jack.”

  “Cassandra.”

  I hadn’t seen her in years — ten, to be exact. We dated, I loved her, she left me. It wasn’t quite that simple, but that was the gist of it.

  Eddie gave the red leather chair in front of his desk a tug and a pat. “Have a seat, Jack. Can I get you guys anything? Cassie, another Scotch?”

  She nodded. I sat down in the chair. The cushion deflated under my weight. “I’ll have a Scotch, too.” I stared at Eddie, trying to beam thoughts into his brain. Goddamn, Eddie. Warn a fella, would ya?

  Eddie just smiled and walked out the door.

  Cassandra stared at me from across Eddie’s desk. I stared back. The clock on the wall tick-tocked. Finally, she sighed. “I’ll get right to it. Jack, I need your help.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Eddie came back with the Scotch. Cassandra reached for her glass. I blinked. Her right hand was mottled and twisted with old burns. It looked like a discarded snakeskin. “What happened to your hand?”

  “Tactful as always, Jack.” She sipped her Scotch.

  I gulped mine and the Scotch burned down my throat. I felt the familiar warmth spread through my belly. Melody was upstairs waiting for me. I pictured her naked body, her blond hair fanned out on my blue velour couch. “Let’s make this quick. I’ve got someone waiting for me upstairs.”

  Cassandra smiled. “You’re a popular guy.”

  “That’s me, Mr. Popular.”

  Cassandra glanced over at Eddie. He looked down at his clunky gold Rolex. “Oh, look at the time. I’ve got to, uh …” Eddie trailed off. As he headed back to the door, he looked over his shoulder and gave me a wink. “Let me know if you guys need anything else.”

  Eddie closed the door behind him. Cassandra reached into her little black leather purse, pulled out a tissue, and dabbed at her eyes. At first I thought it was just theatre, but when she looked over at me, her eyes were glistening. “I won’t lie, Jack. Things have gone a little bit sideways.”

  “That happens.” I sipped my Scotch. “Why come to me?”

  Cassandra stared at me with her dark eyes. “You know I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have to. I’m here because I have no other choice.”

  “I’ll find you someone else. I know a lot of guys who could help. Ritchie Quan’s set up shop just down the street.”

  Cassandra screwed up her face like she just sucked a lemon. “That pervert who always smells like soup?”

  “All right, not Ritchie then. Remember Camille? She’s working for Iron Sphinx. Big security firm, totally legit.”

  Cassandra shook her head. “I need someone I can trust. Someone discreet.” She stared into my eyes. “I need you.”

  I thought about Melody, waiting for me upstairs. She was probably wondering where the hell I was. Either that or she had fallen asleep.

  “I’ll help you. But I need some more information.”

  “All right.” Cassandra closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I’ll just lay it all out here. I had a backer. His name is Anton. I don’t want to work with him anymore.” Cassandra bit her nails. “But he doesn’t want to let me go.”

  “He wants to continue the partnership.”

  “Yeah.” Cassandra’s eyes were watery, but she smiled. God, she had a beautiful smile. “That’s it in a nutshell. Last week, Anton fronted me the buy-in for a private game. A hundred large.” She grinned. “You should’ve seen it, Jack. At one point I was up like three hundred grand. I caught a queen of spades on the river to make a beautiful flush. But then the cards dried up.” She shook her head. “Pretty sure the game was rigged.”

  “Who was running it?”

  “Does it matter?”

  I just stared at her.

  She sighed. “It was Freddy Johns. I know, I know. I should’ve known better. Freddy’s a snake, but his games are big money. I needed a win, Jack. I’ve had a really bad run. I’m up against the wall here.”

  “How much do you owe Anton?”

  Cassandra fiddled with the strap of her black leather purse, then went back to biting her nails.

  I made my voice gentle. “How much, Cassie?”

  “Six.”

  “Six …”

  “Six large.” She looked up at me, her eyes flashing. “I owe him six hundred thousand dollars, all right?”

  “Jesus.”

  “I don’t need a lecture.” She rubbed her temples. “I know things have gotten out of hand. Anton’s pushing me into some dangerous games, asking me to do things I don’t want to do. I told him he’ll get his money, but we should break off the partnership and go our separate ways. He didn’t think that was such a good idea.”

  “Did he —”

  “He never hit me, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “Your hand —”

  “Jesus, Jack, give it a rest.” Cassandra hid her burned right hand under Eddie’s desk. “Yes, Anton’s violent. I’ve seen him do some horrible, horrible shit. At first, though, he was good to me.” Cassandra smiled a crooked half smile. “Go on, call me an idiot.”

  “You’re not an idiot.” I paused. “He threatened you?”

  “Yes.” Her eyes welled up again. “He said if I ever tried to leave, he would kill me.”

  I wanted to jump up and go find Anton right then and there. I wanted to grab the man by the hair and smash his face into a wall until his face was gone.

  Instead, I forced myself to be calm. Breathe in, breathe out. “Anton. He’s connected?”

  “Oh yeah. He’s part of this big eastern European crew. Heroin, mostly. Some synthetics.”

  “How’d you meet this guy?”

  “We never fucked, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  I held out my hands. “Hey, I didn’t ask.”

  “And now you don’t have to.” She smiled that sad little half smile. “Where do you think we met, Jack? We met at a poker game. He liked the way I played.”

  “Simple as that, huh?”

  “Simple as that.”

  “All right.” I ran my hand through my hair. These days it was more silver than brown. “Eddie’s got a safe house in Scarborough. You can stay there tonight.” I stood up.

  “And tomorrow?”

  “I’ll talk to Anton. Get him to back off.”

  Cassandra collapsed back into Eddie’s chair. I could see the relief on her face. “Thanks, Jack.”

  CHAPTER 3

  I left Cassandra with Eddie and headed up the stairs. Eddie’s restaurant was on the
first floor. At this time of night I could hear drunken students laughing loudly, clattering their forks while they scarfed down their chicken balls with red sauce. I kept going up the dusty wooden stairs to the second floor. At the end of the hallway was the door to my office. It looked like a wooden door, but it was actually a thin wood veneer glued on top of steel. If anyone ever tried to kick down my door, their leg would shatter like glass.

  I fumbled with my keys and unlocked the locks. I had four of them on the door, plus two security cameras, one hidden discretely near the door and another facing the stairs. I liked to think I was cautious, not paranoid. I swung open the door and stepped inside.

  Most of the lights were off. My desk lamp was glowing a warm orange. The plant on my desk bobbed slightly. It looked like it was waving. I nodded to the plant. “Hello, plant.” There was an almost-empty bourbon bottle and two empty glasses over by the couch. I didn’t see Melody anywhere. Then the door to the bathroom opened and Melody stepped out, fully dressed. She was wearing skin-tight black leggings and a white T-shirt that had a black-and-white picture of a unicorn on it. Her blond hair was pulled back in a messy high ponytail. She saw me and laughed. I loved her laugh. It sounded like a cascade of silver bells. “Well, don’t look so happy to see me.”

  I gestured to her outfit. “You put on clothes.”

  “Yep.” She grinned. “I’ve got to go to work.”

  “I thought you had the night off.”

  She stepped closer and gave me a hug. She smelled like summertime, like coconut oil and the beach. “There you go again, thinking too much. That’s going to get you in trouble.” She smiled up at me. One of her upper teeth was adorably crooked. “Ride to the club with me.”

  “Can’t do it, babe. Eddie and I have to drop off a client.”

  “A client? Ooh la la. Look at you, gettin’ paid.”

  She strutted over to the couch and grabbed her white leather purse. The fringe on the purse swayed as she slung it over her shoulder. “All right, I’ll see you at the club later. I’ve gotta stop by my place first. Pick up my work outfit. I wasn’t supposed to work tonight but someone called in sick.” She shrugged. “What the heck, right? Money is money.”