Capriotti’s phone rings, and he answers it quickly. He says, “Not good enough, Sarge.” Shit. It doesn’t sound so favorable on the other end. He hangs up and clenches his fists before hitting redial and bringing the phone back to his ear.
“Permission to handle this under the table? We got transport, can be there in an hour.” There’s a minute of silence on Capriotti’s part before he starts snapping into the phone. “You wanna explain to Christian Kincaid, one of the most charitable men in the five boroughs why the fuck the Thirty-first and fucking podunk Montauk PD don’t consider the safety of his family as VIP enough to save their fucking lives? Huh?”
This time when he hangs up, he says to Chris, “How many does this chopper of yours seat?”
“Five, including the pilot.”
“I’m going,” I shout and dare anyone to fucking tell me I’m not.
Hennessey and Jack follow my lead, and so does Capriotti. I do the math but don’t point out to anybody as we rush out of the firehouse that there’s five of us and only four seats. If I have to, I’ll just push somebody out for a spot in the chopper if it means making sure I’m there to get my Lulu back to me safely.
True to Chris’s word, there’s a chopper is waiting for us when we make it to the roof of Kincaid Media.
We stand in the stairwell and wait for Capriotti to return with the all clear. He got some kind of special clearance from his sarge to make an arrest outside of his jurisdiction. He didn’t explain it to us, but he’s well versed in the particularities of catering to New York’s wealthier class and knows how to pull the right strings to get the kind of clearance that technically doesn’t exist on the books.
“Knew you had money, but had no idea you have this much,” Hennessey says to Chris.
“I don’t,” Chris says. “I called in a favor that’s going to cost me dearly.” He thinks on that for a moment while I bounce impatiently from foot to foot. “Not nearly as dearly as losing my girls would.”
Capriotti rushes into the stairwell and shouts, “Let’s go!” He waves us up.
Jack and Hennessey takes the stairs two at a time and stride across the roof in the blustery winds. I go to move, temporarily forgetting about being short a seat, but Chris grabs ahold of my upper arm and stops me.
“Get them back here safely.” His voice cracks halfway through the sentence, and his lower lip trembles. “And make that son of a bitch pay for this.”
“It’s the least I can do in exchange for your permission to marry your daughter.” I can’t think about the devastating what-ifs that might make that an impossibility, so I don’t. But still, something in me forced that out now and not later. Like if the paralyzing fear in my heart brings my worst nightmare to fruition, then at least I know I had this moment with this man I’m coming to respect greatly.
“I’d be honored,” he says, and a sad, tortured smile finds its way to his face. He shoves me off and pats my back. “Bring our girls home, son.”
I push back the nauseating fear that threatens to consume me as I step onto the roof of the forty-six-story building and fight against the forceful winds that seem damn determined to knock me down. Climbing into the last seat of the chopper, I hang on and strap in as we rise in the air. Wind whips all around us, and I place a pair of protective headphones over my ears and turn the mic and headset on as Hennessey directs me to. The helicopter is more military-grade than anything, and definitely not used for leisure. It doesn’t have any doors, and it smells like motor oil. I can’t help but wonder where the fuck Chris got this thing from.
“Sarge just got word to me that Montauk PD is finally taking this seriously and swinging by the house. They should get there in a few minutes. Their fire department is a bit smaller than what you’re used to, and they’re out on a bonfire call right now. All EMTs in the area are en route to other calls as well,” says Capriotti, who is seated across from me in his backward-facing seat. Jack sits next to him and mutters a few choice words but nods his head. From beside me, Hennessey levels Capriotti with a serious gaze.
“Exactly how much clearance do we have here, Cap?” Hennessey asks, using a nickname I’ve heard the detective’s fellow officers use.
“As much as we need,” he says. “Keep in mind, though, that we got one gun between the four of us. We let Montauk take the lead and provide backup if needed, as possible.”
I keep my mouth shut about his plan. I’ll do what I need to do to make sure Lulu makes it home safely.
Chapter 24
Jameson
Chris said it would take about forty minutes to get to the landing pad at the private airstrip just a few miles from the beach house, but it feels like it takes a lot fucking longer to get to Montauk than that. I try my best to spot local landmarks that I recognize, but everything looks different from the air and at night. The pilot cuts the helicopter north toward the airstrip just as a fire comes into view.