by B. B. Hamel
I followed him onto the sidewalk. “Mike Tyson once said something like, ‘Everybody has a plan until they get punched in the mouth.’ I think about that a lot whenever we go to something like this.” He walked with his head up, his eyes scanning the block in front us, and didn’t glance down at me.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I think he’s saying you just have to go get it done. You can plan all you want, but as soon as the shit really starts, all those plans disappear.”
“Then why bother planning?”
He let out a breath. “The plans help sometimes, but more often than that, I think they’re an exercise in mentally preparing for what’s about to happen. When the fighting starts, when the shooting starts, you’ve got to be ready to deal with it emotionally. You can’t freak out and freeze or do something stupid out of fear. I think planning helps ease some of that tension.”
I knew what he meant just from these past few days. My hands shook and my stomach felt like a mess—but he seemed completely at ease like we were on some gentle stroll down the block. Planning kept him centered, while I felt like I was getting punched in the mouth over and over again.
Rittenhouse Park was a small, block-sized oasis in the middle of the most crowded and expensive section in the city. Rows of trees ringed a fenced lining a tangle of crisscrossing paths. Benches were placed evenly all around the park, and half the seats were taken up, while other folks sat on the edge of a big bubbling fountain, and several buskers juggled or played guitar for small crowds. Young people sat on blankets on the grass in the sun, while locals walked their fluffy little dogs on short leashes through the crowds.
Luke reached out and took my arm suddenly. He held me gently but firmly and pulled me closer as he steered me from the packed central section along a shady side path. He headed toward a man sitting alone on a bench wearing a dark suit and reading the Philadelphia Inquirer. He looked up as we approached, smiled a charming and easy grin, and put the paper away.
“It’s good to see you again, Luke,” the man said.
“Park,” Luke said, nodding, but kept a respectful distance. “This is Cara.”
“Nice to meet you, Cara.” Parked showed his teeth in a wide smile—they were perfectly straight and white. He looked like an underwear model, with just the right amount of stubble on his handsome chin and a gleam in his too-blue eyes.
“I’m surprised they sent you,” Luke said, “considering we have a friendly relationship.”
“I think that’s exactly why my Don sent me.” Park patted the bench next to him. “Take a seat, let’s talk. No bullshit, I promise we’re not here for that.”
Luke hesitated another second before sitting down. The bench was divided into three sections by two thick black iron armrests. I took the far spot, away from Park, while Luke sat in the middle.
“Forgive me for being skeptical,” Luke said. “Your family’s not exactly known for being kind to those that go against them.”
“Well, you’re a known entity, and besides, we’re not so far gone that we can’t at least have a discussion before trying to kill you.” Another charming smile, so at odds with his words. “But you know how my Don can be, so don’t forget who you’re dealing with.”
Luke grunted in reply. “What do your people want, Park?”
He spread his hands happily. “It’s really simple. My Don wants the dossier and he wants the girl. No offense, Cara, I’m sure you’re a perfectly fine person, but unfortunately your father deeply fucked up and it seems like you’re on the hook for his mistake.”
I stared down at my feet, unable to meet his piercing, gleaming smile, like he was enjoying himself while I thought I might throw up.
Some small part of me thought the Lionettis would let me go. I had almost nothing to do with all of this—my father was involved, but I didn’t control my father. He did whatever he wanted, whether I liked it or not, and so often I was stuck cleaning up his mess afterward. I hated him for doing this to me, for putting me in this position.
“You can’t have the girl,” Luke said. “There’s no negotiating on that.”
“We might be able to work something out if you hand over the dossier.” Park tilted his head. “What’s it about her, anyway? You really want to piss off my Don over some girl?”
Luke tensed. “She doesn’t deserve any of this.”
Another charming laugh. Park seemed to be really enjoying himself. “Nobody deserves anything, you know that. So the girl’s dad fucked up, does that mean she should pay the price? Of course not, but unfortunately this is how things work in our world. My Don needs someone to pay for this, and the girl’s the perfect victim, or sacrifice, depending on how you look at it. He wants the city to know what happens when you fuck with the Lionettis and steal from them, and not just to you, but to your whole damn family.” Park leaned forward to stare at me. “No offense, Cara. Really, I’m sure you’re a nice person, it’s nothing personal.”
“You want to kill me,” I said, my stomach doing flips. “Feels pretty personal.”
He shrugged and leaned back. Luke put a steadying hand on my knee.
“I understand your Don’s position,” he said. “But you need to understand mine. I have the dossier and I have Cara, and I’m not going to give over either without some serious assurances. The girl’s off limits, but the dossier might come home if your Don’s willing to negotiate in good faith.”
“I’m here because my Don’s willing, but come on, Luke. These are the terms. You want to get through this unscathed, you hand over Cara and the dossier and maybe my Don will find it in his heart to pay you a little something for your trouble.”
Luke barked a laughed and shook his head. “You know me, Park. I don’t do anything only for the money.”
Park smiled and shook his head. “I know that, but come on, I think this is maybe one of those times where better sense should prevail.”
“Never was good at that, either.” Luke stretched his legs. “Is that it then? Your boss wants Cara and the dossier, not alternatives?”
“Seems like the alternative is violence, and neither of us want to go down that road.” Park’s smile was slowly fading. “If you don’t try to play along, the Don’s going to send someone much less sympathetic next time.”
“I figured that, yeah. And what’ll happen to you?”
“The Don doesn’t punish his loyal Capos when some stubborn Russian won’t do what he’s told. Otherwise we’d all be dead.”
Luke laughed and squeezed my thigh. “If your Don can give me assurances that he won’t hurt Cara, then I’ll consider handing over the dossier. But if her blood’s the only thing that’ll make him happy, then we won’t ever reach a deal. Make sure he understands that I don’t mean this lightly.”
Park sighed and rubbed his face then snapped his paper. I jumped and hoped he didn’t notice as he stood up.
“I’ll let him know how you feel,” Park said, extending a hand. “It was a pleasure speaking again, at least. I suspect I won’t be seeing you again, and in that case, I just want to say good luck.”
“Thanks, Park.” Luke shook his hand. “Here’s hoping your Don finds some mercy in that cold, black heart of it.”
Park laughed, winked at me, then walked off. Luke didn’t move, only watched him go, before leaning back against the bench.
I felt like my feet might fall off, or like my hands might shake so hard they’d break into tiny little pieces. Luke looked exhausted and he looked at me from the corner of his eye.
“How’d that go?” he asked.
“I was hoping you’d tell me.”
He tightened his grip on my leg. “It’s hard to say with Park, honestly.”
“How do you two know each other?”
He waved a hand in the air. “A while back, the Morozov and the Lionetti families were closer than they are now. We did some jobs together.”
“You seem like friends.”
“Maybe we were, but it’s be
en a long time. And anyway, loyalty to the family always trumps loyalty to anyone else, so friendship won’t go too far if the Don tells him to come murder me.”
“Do you think they’ll listen?” I asked, squirming side to side, suddenly feeling very exposed. “He made it seem like the Don really wanted me dead.”
“Don Lionetti’s not a soft man, to put it mildly. If he wants to make an example of you, I find it hard to believe that he’ll stop just because I’m asking him to back down. The dossier’s important though, and he might decide that it’s worth losing a little face to get it back.”
“But you don’t know for sure.” I leaned toward him and put a hand on his arm. “Let’s get out of here. I’m feeling really anxious.”
He stood up and took my hand. I walked close to him, keeping my head down like someone might start shooting at any moment. On the way out of the park, I spotted German sitting on a nearby bench. He nodded and crossed his legs as we walked past, then stared in the opposite direction like he didn’t know us at all.
It seemed hopeless. Don Lionetti wanted to show the city that messing with his family meant total and brutal retribution—and I was directly in the line of fire.
9
Luke
The Lionetti family wasn’t going to make this easy on me.
As much as I wanted to keep this within the crew only, I knew I had to go to the leaders of the Morozov family. At this point, if the Lionettis were going to start coming after me, they had to know something was happening.
“He’s going to be angry,” German said, taking a long drink from his coffee mug. He stood across from me in the kitchen while Cara moved around us, straightening up and pretending like she wasn’t listening.
“He doesn’t love the Lionettis and he’s been looking for an excuse to get involved with them for years. Maybe this is his reason.” I shrugged and crossed my legs.
“Sometimes, Luke, I think you don’t use your head.” German only stared at me flatly. “The Pakhan’s been building the Morozov for the last thirty years by keeping out of big conflicts with the other families, and you think suddenly he wants to get into a war?”
“Not a war,” I said, shaking my head, “but a skirmish? A little fight? I think he’d relish the chance to show that he’s a power in this city.”
German ran a hand over his head. “Maybe you’re right, but I’m not sure I want to find out.”
“Too bad, because you’re coming with me.” I looked over at Cara. “You too, princess.”
She glared at me as she put a dish into the dishwasher. “Don’t call me that, and where are we going?”
“You’re coming to meet my boss.”
“I didn’t know you had one.” She leaned against the counter.
German snorted. “Everyone’s got a boss.”
“I get a lot of leeway from the Morozov family, but my crew’s a part of their network.”
“How’s that work then?” Cara asked, head tilted to one side. She wore her hair down and brushed over one shoulder with tight, short shorts and a low-cut tank top. It was like she wanted to tempt me.
“Pakhan Morozov runs the family from the center,” I said, gesturing with my hands to try to illustrate my point. “Then there are a bunch of little cells and crews all around him. We mostly do what we want, but the Pakhan has the final say over everything.”
“Works better if everyone’s working for themselves,” German added. “Gives the crews incentive to try real hard to earn money, but also gives the Pakhan some legal protection. If one crew goes down, they don’t drag everyone down with them.”
“Decentralized structure,” Cara said, nodding.
“Yeah, sure, that.” I leaned forward, elbows on my knees. “But the Pakhan can shut this little operation down immediately, so we need to convince him that it’s worth sticking with.”
“You mean, you need to convince him not to order you to hand me over to the Lionettis.”
I laughed softly. “More or less, that’s right.”
She tensed, eyes narrowing as she kicked the dishwasher closed. “What happens if he does? Order you, I mean.”
“I don’t know,” I admitted honestly. I’d never gone against an order from the Pakhan before, but he’d never ordered me to do something I really didn’t want to do.
I wanted to protect Cara. It was obvious she didn’t deserve any of this shit—but more than that, I was drawn to her like a moth to a candle. She was like a back yard full of fireflies lighting up the darkness, and all I wanted was to be near her, to touch her and taste her, to make her feel all the things I wanted and thought she deserved.
But the idea of going against my family to keep her made my jaw clench. I was a loyal man and had always done what was best for the Morozov family and for my crew. I had to hope that my loyalty would be repaid by the Pakhan, and if he decided to order me to send her away, I’d have to make the most difficult decision of my life, a decision that wouldn’t only affect me, but would impact the entire crew.
“I have to admit, I’m not feeling great about this meeting,” she said after a long pause and tugged at her hair. “Do you really need to involve this Pakhan guy?”
“Evgeni Morozov,” I said and drummed my fingers on the table. “And yes, we really do. It’s going to be fine, you don’t have to worry.” Which was a total lie, of course. She should be extremely worried.
I was extremely worried.
“Let’s get it over with at least,” German said, looking at his watch. “He should be at the usual spot by now.”
I grunted and stood up. “At least he’s in a good mood when he’s eating there.”
“Eating where?” Cara asked.
“Russian deli,” I said. “Down past South Street. He loves their pickles and their rye bread.”
“I thought Russians only ate fish and caviar.”
“That’s just a stereotype.” I nodded at German. “You ready to go?”
“Ready as always, although maybe we should bring more guys.”
“We’ll be fine. If the Pakhan wants the girl, we’ll handle it ourselves, understood?”
German’s eye met mine, and I think he understood what I meant. I didn’t say we’d hand Cara over without question. I said we’d handle it, which could’ve gone a million different ways.
But he nodded once sharply and gestured toward the door. “After you, boss.”
I stood up, stretched and waved at Cara. “Come on, let’s go get this done.”
She chewed her lip but followed me outside. The car ride over was quiet, with German in the back seat and Cara up front. I kept running scenarios over and over in my head, trying to decide what I’d do if the Pakhan ordered me to give Cara over to the Lionettis but I couldn’t see past that horrible moment.
I didn’t know if I’d obey or if I’d fight.
But maybe the question and the uncertainty were a sort of answer in itself. I’d never wondered if I’d take an order from the Pakhan before, and never wondered if I’d listen to him in the end, but with Cara in my life now, I suddenly had a reason to go against the family.
Maybe that was answer enough. That it was a possibility meant that I’d protect her, no matter what happened.
It set my teeth on edge and was more than a little disconcerting, but I didn’t have too long to obsess. The deli was a rundown place deep in South Philly tucked in a little strip of stores close to the Delaware River. The air smelled like car exhaust and algae as I got out and waited on the sidewalk for Cara.
German went first. The deli had no sign out front, only big glass windows that showed the interior, which was mostly empty except for a few guys hanging around toward the back. The employees didn’t seem to notice the guys, and for good reason—they were always there, practically fixtures.
I grabbed Cara’s wrist before she could follow German. “I know you won’t like this, but do me a favor and try not to say anything in there, all right?”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “Why
, do you think I’ll make things harder?”
“Not necessarily, but the boss can be a difficult man, and I don’t want you to say something that makes him decide to give you back to the Lionettis. I don’t want to have to be in the position to say no to him, do you understand?”
She nodded and took a deep breath. “Yeah, okay, I understand.”
I moved closer before she could pull back. “You look good today, little princess.” My other hand moved around to touch her hip. “If it comes to it, I’m not going to let them take you.”
Then I moved away and headed inside. She followed after a beat, her cheeks flushed, her fingers tugging nervously at her hair.
German stood by the Pakhan’s table in the back. Several of the Pakhan’s guards stood around reading papers, magazines, eating sandwiches, looking bored. I nodded to a few and joined German.
Pakhan Evgeni Morozov was an older man in his sixties and a bear of a human being. He wore a white tank top and a pair of big jeans, and his shoulders were covered in a fine brown hair. He was heavy, with a square jaw and the nose of a boxer, broken and swollen. His arms were thick and long, but he ate with a strange delicacy, like he didn’t want to get his fingers dirty, and his dark eyes roamed up across me then down Cara with an intense intelligence. His hair was thinning and gray and pushed back over his scalp, and overall, I wouldn’t have given him a second glance on the street, except I knew Evgeni was as wily as an eel and twice as dangerous.
“Luke and German,” he rumbled, his voice deep and still slightly accented, though he hadn’t lived in Russia in a very long time. “My two favorite soldiers. Are you here on business, or did you bring your Pakhan a little present?” He raised his eyebrows and looked at Cara.
I stood close to her protectively. “Pakhan, this is Cara. She’s the girl the Lionettis have been looking for.”
Evgeni’s eyebrows rose high. “This is the one? I heard you might be involved but since I didn’t hear from you, I thought it wasn’t true.”