Family Bashings

Chapter 3-1

Chapter 3

Doyle pulled his gun from its holster and thumbed off the safety. Turning from side to side, he made sure the place was clear. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Kord doing the same thing.

“It’s clear. Look after him, I’ll clear the rest of the place,” Kord ordered and moved off, gun sweeping the room as he walked.

Doyle knelt by Podesta’s side and felt for a pulse in his neck.

“He’s alive,” he called out. He yanked his cell phone from his pocket, then dialed headquarters. “I’ve got a man down. Looks like he’s been beaten. He’s still alive but he needs attention. Now. Send an ambulance and some back-up.” He slipped the phone back into his pocket.

Podesta moaned.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Doyle said, not at all sure that was true. “Who did this? You know who did this?” He didn’t expect an answer but he needed to keep the man focused until help arrived.

Podesta moaned again and his eyes fluttered open. He struggled to speak. “It was…him. The guy…who…” Eyes shut now, he lapsed back into silence.

Kord returned, still on alert but more relaxed. He squatted down and looked at Podesta. Doyle thought he noticed something. A twitch at the corner of Kord’s eye? A subtle movement of his lips?

“He gonna be able to talk?” Kord stood up again. There was an emotion in his voice that Doyle couldn’t identify.

“I don’t know,” Doyle whispered as he stood up. “He’s been beaten pretty badly.”

“If it wasn’t for the case we got stuck with, I’d say I don’t give a f**k what happens to him. Drug dealing scum.” The faint emotion Doyle thought he’d detected was gone, replaced by a bitter anger. He noticed, though, that even anger didn’t ruin Kord’s looks. If anything, he was more fiercely beautiful.

Doyle didn’t respond to Kord’s remark. He wasn’t sure he felt any different than Kord. But they might need the mafia scion if nothing else panned out.

Podesta moaned again and Doyle remembered something. “You cleared the place, right?”

“Of course. You think I’m some kinda amateur?” Kord huffed. “Why?”

“We came looking for a guy named Giorgio. I guess he doesn’t hang around for clean-up.”

“Doesn’t look like anybody does. Podesta was alone.”

“Not entirely,” Doyle quipped.

“Yeah, yeah. Wiseass. A gay wiseass cop.” Kord laughed. “There weren’t any witnesses around. Let’s put it that way. Maybe we should take a look in the office and see if we can find out where this Giorgio hangs out. Even better, where he lives.”

“Good idea.” Doyle turned to walk down a corridor.

“Office is this way,” Kord said. “Saw it when I cleared the place.” He led them into the tiny office where they were able to locate employee records. Podesta apparently was still in the pencil and paper era with all his records handwritten and stored in binders. Without the need for passwords, finding Giorgio’s employment information was a breeze.

As they reentered the bar area, they heard the sirens of the ambulance and their backup.

Moments later, the place was a blur of activity. Cops, EMTs, and more cops swarmed the place. Doyle called the captain to inform him about the turn of events.

“You two stay on the case I gave you. I’ll assign someone else to Podesta.”

“We need to know when he regains consciousness…If he does. We need to talk to him,” Doyle insisted.

“Don’t get your panties in a knot. You’ll be informed. In the meantime there’s plenty in that file to keep you busy.”

The phone went dead.

“Captain says we continue with the case and leave Podesta to him.”

“Fine by me. But he’d better keep us looped in,” Kord said, watching the EMTs place Podesta on a gurney and slip him into the back of the ambulance. Doyle sensed something wasn’t quite right with the big hunk. Something roiled inside him, something that disturbed the smooth, masculine facade he worked so hard to maintain. Kord was holding something back. Of course, that was natural. They’d only met an hour earlier. And withholding was stock-in-trade of the undercover cop.

“You okay?” Doyle asked.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Kord snapped back to attention. “Where to next?”

Doyle hesitated a moment, sure now that Kord had something else on his mind.

“We’ll do the diner and then we hit the next club on the list.”