022

The twenty-minute drive from the Stryfe's luxurious home in West Vancouver to the Rogers Arena was one that she barely remembered. After watching her husband be escorted from the arena by men who appeared to be FBI agents, she'd been driven into a near-panic— a state that had grown increasingly worse as she'd made a few desperate phone calls only to determine that the FBI had no knowledge of an arrest of anyone matching her husband's description.

Leaping from the car as soon as it was awkwardly parked beside the loading dock, she ran into the arena. Her high heels clacked against the floor as she passed a few of the technicians who were still tearing down the equipment. With her pulse pounding in her ears, she raced towards the locker room area, frantically searching for the room Anthony Gambini would have been using.

With Climax having gone off the air not that long ago, she saw the crew almost as busy taking everything apart and packing it up as it was when they were building the set. A few production assistants gave her some odd looks as she took off through the corridors of the backstage area, soon even passed by more than one SVW wrestler who was heading towards the exit in the opposite direction.

The search came to an end outside the slightly ajar door with Gambini's name on it, and the sound of someone walking around inside could be heard as she approached. She didn't even bother to knock out of common courtesy, instead barging in as though she owned the place.

"WHERE THE HELL IS MY HUSBAND?!" The words came from her mouth louder than she'd intended, clearly startling the person she'd burst in on more than the door impacting against the wall had.

But the individual in the room was not who she was looking for as Kyle Kilmeade turned around to face her as he was on one knee and looking through the drawers of the small office Gambini had gotten for himself. Looking up to her, he got back to his feet. "Believe me, if I knew, I'd tell you."

Folding her arms across her chest, Kitty glared at him. "Where's Gambini?" Before he could answer, she shook her head, answering herself, "clearly not here, or you wouldn't be rummaging through his drawers."

"Another good question. And again, if I knew where he was, I'd tell you because I'd like to know too." He shoved the drawer shut and opened the one beneath it. "I recognize those men that dragged Stryfe out of here. And I know they aren't FBI at all." He turned his attention back to the drawer, finding it empty as well before slamming it shut out of irritation.

"Tell me something I didn't already know," her eyes narrowed as she realized what he'd just said. "Wait, you recognized them? From where?"

"I guess you could call them friends of the family." He responded before walking past her and shutting the door behind her to ensure they were not going to be interrupted. "Listen, I know you're upset. I would be too. And I'm going to tell you this, but it goes no further than us." He looked hesitant to even say it, it was hard enough admitting it to Kasey. "Gambini....that's my brother. Well I'm his adopted brother. So you can say that I know him a lot better than I want to."

She licked her lips, still feeling that anxiety and knowing that wasn't going to fade until she found her husband— hopefully alive. "You know him? Good," she snapped, "maybe you can tell me what in the hell this entire little song and dance is about?" With every piece that clicked into place, the more foolish she felt to have been at least ten steps behind the bastard at every turn. "Tell me, Kyle..." there were tears in her eyes now; "you need to tell me everything you know before it's..." she trailed off, unable to complete the thought for fear of jinxing it.

"You know almost as much as I do. He doesn't tell me about his little plans so much 'til after they are over, because he doesn't really trust me." Kyle responded as he took a deep breath, running his fingers through his hair briefly. "I know those cars all went in different directions when they left the building. I'm sure I'll hear something from him. All I got earlier today was a text telling me I was going to benefit from tonight. I had no idea what he meant. But if I know anything, he'll take him back to one of his warehouses where he keeps his 'valued possessions'."

All sorts of horrible scenarios began to flash through her mind as he mentioned a warehouse. All she could picture was her husband tied to a chair and being shot at point blank range before being dumped into the water. "Where are these warehouses, Kyle?" Her eyes were pleading as she stared at him. "Here in Vancouver? Chicago? Back in New York?!" Her voice was breaking, becoming shrill, "we need to find him. Tonight..."

"He runs most everything out of New Jersey, that's where his furniture store he uses as a front is located. And the primary warehouse I know he uses is in Trenton, New Jersey. I've been to it a couple times, and I know how to find out. It's hard to miss with the painting on the exterior that says 'Brown Antiquities' which is the former owner of the building. He just never cleaned off the paint, makes it easier to hide in broad daylight." Kyle answered as he looked around for some paper, finding a notepad on the side table next to the sofa before he began to write.

She moved towards him, craning her neck to watch him scrawl on the paper. "If I find out you're lying to me..."

He looked back at her with a look of almost disbelief. "You think I like having any connection to that piece of garbage? It's the reason I didn't change my name to his, and kept my birth parents' name. He's been lording over me for years, and believe me, there's nothing I'd like better than to see him six feet cold and under." He hissed before writing an address. "And if someone hadn't switched mine for a prop gun at Conviction...." He said that last part without meaning to, then realizing what he had said.

She froze, staring at him. "The gunshot on the tape," the one thing that hadn't made sense to her in all this was right here in front of her, "was yours, wasn't it?"

He cursed at himself for letting it slip, looking away in anger before replying. "Yeah, I pulled the trigger. Only difference is the gun I had brought was real. That one was a prop gun like they use in the movies. Somewhere mine got switched, probably by that Marco guy who came to talk to me earlier in the day. I'd never met him before, but he said he was working for Gambini tonight."

"Marco?" She frowned, puzzled, "came to talk to you?" She reached out, resting a hand on his arm. "What did he say, Kyle? Do you remember?"

"Nothing really. He told me very little, other than he knew I hated Gambini. And he wasn't very fond of him either. I didn't pay him attention that much; I'd met enough of his employees in my life. Most all of the people who stopped working for him do so because he did something to piss them off. Nothing new for another one to tell me what a terrible human being he is. I was about to tell him to fuck off when Kasey called, and I went to go see her. And when I came back, he was gone." Kyle added.

"Marco told me that we were being played," she said the words softly, looking down at the address he'd written. "All of us. He told me that nobody shot Gambini and I didn't really understand what he meant until now. I heard the gunshot. Everyone in the arena did— that bastard!" Her eyes lifted back to Kyle's face, "who else knew you had a gun, Kyle?"

"No one that I'm aware of. I only spent time with two people much at all that night, Kasey who didn't know anything about it because I doubt she could have handled it. And Marco. I'm pretty sure he must have switched guns with me while I went to check on Kasey. Which means he had to know someone was going to try to shoot Gambini that night. I don't know how he knew though..." Kyle's eyes began moving back and forth as he was putting the pieces together himself. "And if he wasn't there to kill him, he must have been working for someone else. Otherwise why would he just be hanging out backstage? I did see him come into the building with Jenny, but unless he had a job to do...I can't see a guy like that putting himself out in public unless he had to. He could have watched her match from the hotel..."

She nodded, "he told me that he'd been hired by Gambini to kill Alex but that the hit was called off because of his little interlude between the sheets with Jenny. Starting to think that he was playing fast and loose with the truth— that asshole. You think for what I paid him, he could have at least not been a lying degenerate for the few minutes I was there." Frowning, she glanced at the closed door, "unless you are."

"You don't trust me? That's fine, but why the hell am I here left behind if me and Gambini are tight? He'd have taken me with him. But you don't have to believe me. That's the address, I don't know if he is there, but it's the best place to look. And you can-" Kyle was cut off by the sound of his phone making a chirping noise before he fished it out to see a text message.

'One day, I shall teach you to play chess, little brother. First rule: Pawns are useful too.' It read, and the sender was indeed Anthony Gambini.

From the look on his face, she could tell the message wasn't something romantic from his girlfriend. "What is it, Kyle? Is it him?"

Kyle's face contorted in anger as he turned the screen around to show her the message and his brother's picture by it. "You said Marco told you that we were all being played? Well guess what? The game is still going....."

"That bastard," her eyes narrowed on the phone, as though she could focus all her hate and direct it at the man who was hell-bent on destroying her life. "Who's the pawn? Me? You? Marco?"

"I don't know, but he's wanted Stryfe for a long, long time. And no matter who the pawn is, I'd say he's got the king."