by Nova Rain
Chapter Thirty-One
Michelle
“Keep ‘em coming!”
I’ve lost count of all the times I’ve heard this tiny little sentence tonight. However, I don’t mind. It’s my first day on the job after a while, and frankly, I’d missed it. I had also missed interacting with people, no matter how loud they can get. They’ve been a part of my life for years, and I do enjoy hearing them out every now and then. I’m running around like a chicken with its head cut off, and yet, a smile of bliss is painted on my face. I’m well aware of the fact that sooner or later, some rude customer will try and ruin my mood, but I don’t let that dampen my spirits.
And, just when I thought that things couldn’t get any better, one of the tightest trio’s that’s ever set foot in “90’s Rocks” is back in their favorite bar. I set a bottle of vodka down in front of me, and shuffle over to welcome them. I don’t like to kiss in public, but after the sizzling hot night Joe gave me, I’d love to make an exception for him. Moments later however, he overthrows my plans. I’m less than ten feet away from him, when he parts his lips.
“No,” he silently mouths to me, shaking his head sideways.
“Good evening,” I say with a nod, my smile vanishing. “It’s nice to see you guys back in here.”
Keeping his mouth shut, Joe pulls me aside with him, Bryan and Donny continue to scan the bar.
“I need to get you of here,” he informs me, leaning over towards me. “Call your boss. Tell him you have a family emergency or something.”
“What?” I squeak, my face twisting in surprise. “Are you serious? I mean, I just got back for God’s sake.”
“I’m dead-serious,” Joe claims, his firm tone not leaving any room for doubt. “Two gunmen attacked us tonight. After we were done with them, guess who they got a call from.”
“Who?”
“Eric Santone,” he goes on to say, lowering his voice. “That prick tried to have us killed. My guess is you’re next. Sorry, Michelle. We have to go back up to Shandaken.”
“I cannot believe this,” I sigh, clasping my hands behind my head, elbows pointing outward as shivers run down my spine. He had reassured me that I was out of harm’s way for the time being. Still, it’s now that it dawns on me how correct Ava was in pointing out that he doesn’t dictate the terms for his life.
“I’ll be waiting. Don’t take too long,” Joe urges while I struggle to come up with an excuse for leaving. I’m working the nightshift with Julia, the person responsible for me getting this job in the first place. The place is almost full, and there are more people coming through the entrance by the minute.
“I’ll be right back,” I murmur, trotting off away from him. I drag my heels along the hardwood floor, wishing that I didn’t have to do this. Julia is pouring whiskey into shot glasses, laughing with a couple of middle-aged customers.
“Jules, I, um…” I falter, averting my gaze from her, my pulse rising. “I’m sorry, but I have to call it a night.”
“Good one, babe,” she chuckles, turning to face me. “Now, take these to table fourteen. They’ve been waiting for ten minutes.”
“I can’t,” I insist, intensifying my stare. “Look, it’s a really long story, and I don’t have time to explain it. I will when the time is right.”
“Girl, it’s fucking Saturday night!” she complains, assuming a tighter expression. “I can’t let you go without a clear explanation.”
I huff in exasperation, but I have to admit that she has a point. I can’t hang her out to dry on a busy night like this. To make matters worse, I can’t discuss my situation with her with so many customers three feet away from us. So, I pull the top drawer of the counter open, and take my notebook and a pen out.
“Someone powerful is out to get me. The guy who blew up in his car down the street the other day was on a mission to take me out. I wasn’t sick these days. I was hiding from those people. I thought I was safe for now, but I just found out that they’re coming for me again. I swear to God, this is true.”
Julia stares down at the note, her mouth partially open. Her face slackens in disbelief, before she glances back up at me.
“Get out of here,” she whispers, furrowing her brow. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Be safe out there.”
“Thank you,” I heave a deep sigh, exchanging a quick hug with her. I would have left even without her consent; the notion of being gunned down makes my stomach chill with fear. All the same, having it means one problem less for me. I didn’t like lying to her in the first place, and I’m glad that I don’t have to anymore.
With a simple nod, I notify Joe. As the four of us exit the bar, I catch myself recalling the night when he executed Decker. Sheer dread engulfs my heart, threatening to send me into a living hell of agony and terror. Those people would not hesitate to gut me in the middle of that street, if that served their agenda. This ruthlessness is what they’re notorious for exercising. Even with my Joe and his friends by my side, I can’t hope for much. It’s a case of three men versus an entire family of gangsters.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Joe
Almost three hours of total silence: that’s right. Three hours of nothing more than engine noise, other cars speeding past my Camaro and the sound of the occasional shift change. This is how badly the hit has affected us all. I don’t know if Donny and Bryan are in shock or scared. The former is more likely. Tonight wasn’t the first time we’ve been shot at. We’ve been involved in a truckload of shootings, and this wasn’t the worst. As crazy as it sounds, we were all surprised when a month went by and we hadn’t taken part in a shooting. Either way, they are not in a mood to speak. Every few minutes, they peek out of their windows, and stare at the city lights. Maybe they’re wondering when they’ll see them again, or if they’ll see them again.
As for Michelle, she steals glances at me every few minutes, confusion and sorrow written all over her face. For the most part of the drive though, she’s just gazing outside, with her elbow leaned on the window sill. And despite my desire to comfort her, I can’t force any words out of my throat. We’re on the run, trying to escape a fate that someone else has decided for us.
I believe that we can win this crazy war, because my friends and I have experience on our side. We’ve also stayed true to each other over the years, and we’ve always watched each other’s backs. Still, everything is way too fresh. Trying to discuss our situation with Michelle, just a couple of hours after breaking this news to her is pointless. She’s an outsider, someone who hasn’t been through such hardship before. She must be feeling desperate by now, and it will be despair doing all the talking, not her.
When we arrive at my cabin, she excuses herself and heads off to the bedroom, leaving me alone with Donny and Bryan. Again, I choose to do nothing. I have the whole night ahead of me to appease her fears. Besides, some alone time won’t do her any harm. More than that, the three of us have to decide on our next course of action.
“Shit!” Donny yells, kicking a stool away from my armchair. “Why the fuck did Eric try to screw us over like that?”
“Because he knows about me and Michelle,” I explain, rubbing my forehead. “I guess he found out about us. Nothing else makes sense. He wants me. You were in the wrong place, at the wrong time.”
“We can’t let this go unpunished,” Bryan points out, for once using a firm tone. He’s got the patience of a saint, but it looks like he just ran out. “We have to show him he’s made a huge mistake.”
“Yeah,” I say on an exhale. “The question is: How?”
“His meth lab in Albany,” he retorts, the skin on his face tightening even more. “I read most of the invoices of that machinery the last time I was there. That fucking thing cost him millions.”
“That’s a great idea,” I comment, flashing him a glance of appraisal. We’ve been in that lab plenty of times. Only a handful of people know it even exists. It’s unguarded on the outside, because it’s in the basement of a Laundromat. Placing guards would draw th
e cops’ attention. “Crippling his meth distribution will bring him to his knees. Donny, what do you think?” I ask, turning my gaze to my other friend.
“Let’s do it,” he agrees, his chest still heaving. “I can’t wait to burn that shithole to the ground. We just have to do it after Eric’s gone to bed. The feed from his security cameras goes straight to his laptop. If he sees us, his goons will be all over us in no time.”
“Here,” I say, tossing my car keys over to him. “Go find a motel. Meet me back here tomorrow night.”
“I talked to my cousin Jimmy this morning,” Bryan interjects. “He’s making progress. He says he’ll be ready in forty-eight hours.”
“One thing at a time,” I mutter, throwing a quick glance at the door. “Be careful out there. Goodnight.”
As the two of them leave my cabin, it dawns on me that our little conversation wasn’t the most difficult part of the night. Sure, it was important because we came up with a plan to put a dent on Eric’s cash flow, but the next few minutes are going to be even harder. There’s a beauty waiting for me in my bedroom. This time, sexual games are not an option. She doesn’t need a lover tonight. More than ever, Michelle needs a friend. And when I join her, I realize how much our ordeal has affected her. The trails of tears across her cheeks are visible, even from ten feet away. She’s crossed her arms over her chest, and stares at me in a way that rips my heart to little pieces. Her deep-brown eyes have shrunk, her slow blinking making her look like she hasn’t slept in days.
“The boys just left,” I utter, my tone calm and steady as I approach her. “How have you been holding up?”
“Can I ask you something?” she says, her wobbly voice confirming the sadness she has swimming inside her.
“Shoot.”
“Is this how my life is going to be from now on?” she wonders aloud, tears pooling in her eyes. “I mean, Santone barks, and we have to disappear? What if…?”
“Don’t go there,” I interrupt her, pursing my lips. “Don’t waste your energy speculating on what could happen. You’re here. You’re safe with me. He doesn’t know about this cabin. I’ve never told him about it. And no, your life won’t be like this from now on. I’ve got a few things in mind on how we can deal with Santone. But I can’t start working on anything knowing you’re this upset. It’s pretty distracting.”
“I’m sorry, but that’s how normal people react when others threaten to kill them,” she responds, anger deepening her voice. “There’s nothing I can do about it.”
“Yes, there is,” I disagree, keeping my cool. “Believe in me. I’m thirty-one years old, and I’ve never had anything like what you and I have. Do you really think I’d let anybody try to ruin it? I’ll blow their fucking heads off if they try to lay a finger on you. I’ve already done that, remember?”
“Thanks, but…” Michelle falters. “You’re outnumbered, Joe. The chances of us getting out of this alive are…”
“...Very good,” I finish her sentence in a different way than the one she’s got in mind. “I’ve known Santone for more than a decade. I know all his weaknessess, how he thinks, how he does things. I can hurt him. In fact I’m going to, tomorrow night.”
“What do you have in mind?” she asks, her voice weakening once more.
“That’s all you need to know,” I tell her, trailing my fingers up her hand. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” Michelle breathes, nodding at the same time. “Of course I trust you. What kind of question is that?”
“I just wanted to hear you say it,” I confess, a small smile forming on my face as I squeeze her hand in my hand. My other arm goes around her waist, my eyes still on hers. In a slow move, I roll her around. Releasing her body, I bend down and swipe the blue blanket away. Offering me a gentle smile, she sits down and unbuckles the straps of her heels. I take them off her feet, her sigh filling my ears before she lies in bed. I take a moment to marvel at her, although she doesn’t look her best. Tiny drops of tears have been tangled in her curly eyelashes. Her lush hair is stretching out to either side, almost completely covering the pillow.
“There’s an angel in my bed,” I whisper, bending down over her, my eyes locked with hers. “And I’ll destroy anyone who tries to take away what I’ve got. Get some rest. I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?”
“I don’t know who the real angel is,” she claims, her voice crackling, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
At that, I brush her hair away from her forehead, taking a deep breath. Shutting my eyes, I lay a tender kiss on her forehead, and then straighten myself up. I don’t tell her what I think about her last statement. I’m a lot of things; “angel” isn’t one of them. There’s darkness inside of me, and I’ll carry it for the rest of my days. Michelle or anyone like her can’t fathom this, because they don’t have a clue of what I’ve had to do to survive. In any case, I’m just a man who’s trying to protect the woman who waltzed into his life one night in North Haven.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Joe
The following night, Donny and Bryan show up outside my cabin with a couple of surprises for me. Bryan’s used his black Cherokee to get back to the Catskills. The second surprise is in the rear. I count two shotguns, three rifles, four handguns and plenty of magazines to last us through hours of a firefight. At first, I get mad at him for carrying an entire arsenal in his SUV. Should he get pulled over, he’d be looking at ten years of jail time. Still, he hadn’t, and now, we’re ready to carry out our plan.
Leaving Michelle all alone in the wild is tough. I don’t want to leave her out of my sight for a second, but tonight, I’m going to be away for three hours. Yet, my other alternative is taking her with me, which means putting her in harm’s way. It all depends on what we find in Albany, and this isn’t a chance I’m willing to take. Also, I don’t need a long “goodbye,” I’ve seen her crying her eyes out enough these days, and that’s exactly what I’ll get if I linger more than I have to. So, I give her a quick, tight hug and head off to Bryan’s Cherokee.
I get a strange feeling during our short trip. I’ve been nervous about the outcome of other missions in the past, but this is much more intense. A single thought dominates my mind, causing my blood to pump through my veins faster than ever before:
“I’m on my way to start a war.”
It’s not right. Maybe this is how Santone will take an attack to his super lab, but the way I see it, we are not starting a war. We’re just responding to his assassination attempt. We’re trying to survive. He’d be an idiot to think that going after three of his most experienced men wouldn’t have any consequences. Retaliation is our way of proving to him that we won’t go down without a fight. Within minutes though, I realize that this is just a half measure. Eric Santone must die. He has to pay for his arrogance and his lust for money and power. And that is exactly what we can’t do. Murdering him will aggravate the other Dons. Having one family on our tail is hard enough. Trying to escape from the dozens of hitmen who will be sent out to kill us will be like a gazelle with a busted leg trying to outrun a hungry cheetah.
To my amazement, the Laundromat that Bryan mentioned last night is on the main street, a few miles outside the town of Albany. I’d been there once, but that was years back, and that detail had skipped my mind. The large, wide building is between a diner and a supermarket, with a green sign over the entrance:
“Sparkling Clean”
Half of the building is an open hangar, with tall, blue washers placed next to one another all the way down to the corner. The rest of it looks more like a prison. A broad, gray door separates it from the hangar. Just next to the sign, I notice the white cover of a security camera. There’s just one, small window in the middle of the concrete structure, and to peek in one would have to get within five feet or less. The pungent smell of detergent rushes into the SUV, right after we roll down the windows.
“Here we go, bitches,” Donny grumbles, handing over rifles to Bryan and me. With his own
rifle in his clutch, he opens the left rear door. Bending his knees, he leans it on the roof of the SUV. He presses his eye to the scope and aims for the camera. The sound of glass shattering acts as our signal to get out of the car. Chunks of plastic and small shards of glass are tossed across the front lot the moment the bullet hits its target. We have no time to waste. Donny pulls a black backpack out of the rear, and then slams it shut. Putting black, ski masks on, we sprint across the lot while I throw curious glances around me. It may be well past midnight, but I can’t be too careful. Both the diner and the supermarket are pitch-dark, setting any fears at ease.
Reaching the gray door, Donny unzips the backpack and presents a laser, glass cutter. I can feel my blood throbbing in my ears, and I hear a dog’s bark in the distance tearing through the night. My friend points the device up at the door, holding it up over his head. A tiny puff of smoke rises up in the air as a red beam makes contact with the faded surface. Donny draws a slow circle around the knob; Bryan’s gaze is fixed on the quiet road. Holding my hand out, I grab the knob out of the air. But, just then, a hollow, high-pitched sound pierces my ears.
“Fuck!” growls Donny, shoving his hand into the hole. Clicking the door open, he rises back up to his feet. Two red lights on the ceiling are flashing in the corridor in front of us, revealing the figure of a man.
“Hey!” he yells, reaching for the gun at his waist. I don’t think twice. Holding my rifle tightly in my grasp, I aim at him. Three bullets send him flying back along the corridor, the crackling sound resounding throughout the narrow walls. I tear off, with Donny and Bryan right behind me. I spot a flight of stairs, just after I jump over the dead body. My feet thump on the metallic steps while I gaze down into the room we are heading towards. It’s what we came here for. The mixed smells in the air and the equipment in that huge room make that perfectly clear. Four, red reactors, one in each corner, are by far the largest objects in there. The aluminum pipes on the wall are sparkling under the fluorescent light. Two, long counters are facing each other, with wide bowls on top of them. The illumination helps me see a storage room in the corner across from the stairs. It’s filled with tall, brown sacks of chemicals, like magnesium, copper, and nitrogen. In that moment, I wish I’d been to high school. That way, I’d know which one of them is flammable. But, a closer look sends any shred of despair away in the blink of an eye. The orange color of two canisters stands out among the sacks. I yank the glass door open first, and then start throwing them back and to the left. Moments afterwards, Bryan storms into the storage room and gives me a helping hand, the clanging sound from outside somewhat confusing me.