by Rick Pine
Ciro looked at his father, who was deep in thought. He wasn’t displaying anger, in fact he didn’t show any emotion. He was just contemplating and analyzing. Ciro continued. “We of course removed them. But we also uncovered an undercover agent working at the refinery. They knew what time to be there and when the shipment would leave. But the trackers suggest that they didn’t know where to intercept the shipment.”
Joseph was now sitting bolt upright. He started rolling up his sleeves as if he was getting ready to punch somebody. He wouldn’t dare, would he? Ciro thought, not in front of the Don. Even the brash Joey Gotti isn’t that stupid.
Ciro continued, reaching his favorite part. “Don DeLuca, you knew we had a leak, that’s why you were the only one that knew all the information. I knew the routes, but not the times the shipments would leave. Joseph knew the times, but not the routes, and neither did the IA.”
“You’re saying one of my boys is the leak?” Joseph snarled, making wild hand gestures with each word.
“I’m just pointing out that the IA knew when to hit, but not where. The trackers prove that. As does the undercover guard, who was waiting to see how many of us would escort the tankers, and how we were armed. It does seem like an awfully big coincidence though, doesn’t it.”
“I should smack you in the mouth right now for suggesting—”
“Where is this undercover guard now, Ciro?” Don DeLuca interjected.
Ciro’s cheeks started flushing red. He felt like a little boy again, about to be scolded for doing something naughty. “He escaped. He knew the place well and—”
“How many of your incompetent men did he evade?” Joseph asked sarcastically.
“Only one man led the chase. They felt it best for the others to stay and guard the shipment, just in case it was a distraction. They could have just driven the tankers away had all my men chased just one man. They made the right call.”
Don DeLuca nodded in acknowledgment.
Joseph asked one last question, as if he already knew the answer. “So which one of your men chased him?”
Ciro straightened his tie and puffed his chest a little, trying to look confident and less like the little boy he felt like now. “Casey led the chase.”
“The traitor, Francis Russo, chased our one lead, and lost him?” said Joseph, even providing the air quotes to emphasize the word “lost”.
“I’ve heard all I need,” said Don DeLuca. “Now, I—” A loud thud on the door stopped him from finishing his sentence. “Come in,” he shouted.
The door slid open a little, just enough for a head to pass through the gap. It was Johny.
“Good evening, Don DeLuca. Please forgive the intrusion, but I have some urgent news to share with you all.”
Ciro squirmed in his chair. He knew Johny would never interrupt a meeting like this unless it truly was urgent. This can’t be good, he thought.
“Spit it out, son,” Don DeLuca demanded.
“It’s Francis Russo... he’s escaped.”
“WHAT!” yelled Ciro as his whole world crumbled at his feet. Could it get any worse?
“And… Alex… She’s gone, too.”
“Fuck!” blurted Ciro.
“Watch your mouth, boy!” his father demanded. Don DeLuca turned his attention to Johny. “Come in and close that door.”
Johny obliged.
“Who was on guard tonight?” asked Joseph.
“Our normal night guard. But he told me Nicolas had come by—”
“Nicky? Why would he be there?” Ciro inquired, now flush with embarrassment.
“He’d told the guard he’d keep an eye if he wanted to step out for a cigarette. When he came back they were gone, all four of them,” confirmed Johny.
“Who was the fourth?” asked Joseph.
“The boy, Billy,” answered Johny.
“I’ve heard enough,” barked Don DeLuca. “Joseph, find them all. Find them, and kill them, especially Francis. But not this... this Nicolas. I want him brought to me. I think I want to talk to him… personally.”
Joseph nodded in agreement.
Ciro began to protest. “No, I should—”
“You’ve done enough, boy.” Turning his attention to Johny and Joseph, Don DeLuca continued. “Leave us. Ciro and I need to talk.”
Ciro held his head in his hands. He couldn’t believe how blind he had been. How had Nicky manipulated him this way? As the door closed behind Joseph and Johny, Don DeLuca stood up and walked over to the small table at the edge of the room. He picked up the crystal decanter holding bourbon and poured himself a drink. Ciro remained quiet.
“Looks like we have some things to talk about, boy, mainly on how you continue to disappoint me.” He paused and took a sip of his drink as he walked back to his desk. “But first… tell me about the other mission. What did Johny find?”
Maybe it’s not a totally ruined night, after all, thought Ciro, as his trademark smirk returned.
Chapter 28
Northern District
Parsons & Son’s Orchard, Romney.
It was early morning by the time George watched the truck turn off the road and come down his drive. He was sitting on his front porch enjoying his morning coffee, despite the chill in the air. Seeing his truck for the first time since Casey had left made George feeling both excited and scared. What if Casey had returned without Billy?
“Maria,” George yelled to his wife, who he knew to be cleaning in the lounge.
Maria popped her head out the door. Before she could scold him with the same I’m not your damn slave, speech, she saw the truck.
George stood up and rested his coffee on top of the wooden table next to his rocking chair. Maria grabbed him, holding him tight. She squeezed him so hard he felt her heart pounding as fast as his.
The truck came to a stop, but not before Casey turned it around so that it was facing toward the road. Casey stepped out the truck, and looked over at George and Maria.
“Honey, I’m home!” Casey announced.
Maria yelled back. “Boy, you’d better have Billy with you, otherwise—”
She stopped mid-sentence when she saw Billy step out of the truck with all his limbs and appendages still attached. George felt her squeeze even tighter before suddenly letting go and running over to hug the life out of Billy.
“Careful momma, he’s come all this way, so don’t break him now,” said George with a chuckle. He couldn’t have been happier to see his boy return home safely. In that moment, he could have hugged Casey, but he refrained. Casey and George walked towards each other, meeting halfway.
“Thank you, Casey. I don’t know what to say,” he said. “Who’s the girl?”
Casey turned his head to watch Alex get out of the truck. Maria’s attention was also diverted to the strange young woman.
“That’s Alex, mama, she helped save me. She was locked up, too,” said Billy.
Maria walked over and hugged her. George couldn’t hear what she whispered in Alex’s ear, but he knew it must be something nice from the smile on her face.
“So, what now?” George asked Casey.
“I’m sorry, George, but you all have to leave this place as fast as you can.”
George was puzzled. “What do yous mean? Leave?”
“It’s a very long story, which I’m sure Billy will tell one day, but they’re coming back for me. They’ll take Billy, too. Permanently.”
George felt the blood rush from his face. “I don’t understand. They gave you him back, right?”
“No, they didn’t. I was imprisoned, too. They found out who I was, and now they want me dead. We had some help, but we had to break out. We’d have all been dead soon if we hadn’t escaped, Billy included.”
George couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “But—”
“I’m serious,” Casey interrupted. “They’re coming, now! You need to grab what you can and leave.”
Maria ran inside, screaming for Daisy.
“George
, don’t look like that. You have to run. It’s the only option.”
“What about yous?”
“There’s a price on my head. It puts you in more danger if I’m with you. They’ll give up on finding you over time, and you’ll be able to start a new life. I will always be running.”
“Hey lady,” George called over to Alex. “You need somewhere to stay?”
“I’m going to go home and find my little brother,” she replied, “but thank you.”
♦ ♦ ♦
Thirty minutes later Casey and Alex waved off the Parsons as they drove away, leaving their family home, business, and former life behind. They’d managed to throw some clothes and supplies in the back of the truck, with help from Alex and Casey.
Alex had been remarkably civil and polite since they had arrived, and hadn’t sworn once. She’d been remarkable with Daisy and Billy in the short time that had passed. Casey was hopeful her anger issues were just temporary. Though, and he knew this as well as anyone, that the memories of the lives she’d taken would haunt her forever.
“I need to get something, then we can go too. We’ll head out back through the Orchard,” Casey instructed.
Alex remained outside the barn and stood watch while Casey went inside. He rushed up the stairs to his little home from home for a quick wardrobe change. The Northern District Gasoline Co. uniform had served its purpose, and he’d need something less conspicuous from here. He lifted his mattress at the head end and pulled out an worn old picture, complete with tear stains. It was one of two possessions he’d always kept with him as he’d moved from town to town. He saw everything else as disposable, but not these. They’d have to pull them from his cold, dead hands.
He tucked the picture away in his jeans pocket to keep it safe. As he undid the door to the barn, he found Alex waiting impatiently.
“What the fuck is that?” she said.
“So delicate, eh? It’s a camel,” Casey replied, very sarcastically. “What does it look like?”
“Why’re you bringing a beat up old guitar with you?”
“It’s a family heirloom. And it isn’t beat up, it’s just loved.” Casey pulled a childish face and stuck his tongue out.
Alex laughed a little before resuming normal service. “Well, it looks in better shape than you do, old man, and it looks like shit.”
Casey ignored her and put his arm through the guitar strap before slinging it on his back. “This way,” he said, as he walked towards the Orchard.
Alex slung her new backpack on and followed. Maria was kind enough, despite the current chaos, to throw a few sets of her old clothes in a bag for Alex once she realized she literally had only the clothes on her back.
When they reached the end of the Orchard Casey turned around to say goodbye to his home of the last ten years for the final time. He didn’t have time to get sentimental, however, as he watched a distinctive black sedan pull into the driveway.
Chapter 29
Casey and Alex sat on top of a large hill two miles away looking down on the flames engulfing the house and barn. It was only a matter of time before it spread to the Orchard itself.
When they had seen the Cosa Nostra arrive earlier they ran like crazy until they reached the top of the hill. For someone that had spent the last year in a prison cell, Alex was surprisingly fit. Even Casey struggled to keep up with her. He hated getting old. They hadn’t been seen, of course, as the Orchard was long, but the more distance they could put between them and the Cosa Nostra, the better.
“What now?” Alex asked.
“Well, I said I’d take you to find your brother.”
“I know that, but how? We don’t even have any food, money, or a car.”
“Nope. But there are ways. You never know, you might learn something on this little adventure after all.”
“You’re not making this sound very fun.”
“Who said anything about fun? Now we’re just fighting to survive.”
Alex looked at Casey with disdain. “Why bother? Your time’s nearly up, old man.”
“Maybe,” replied Casey as he grabbed his guitar. “Maybe I should sing about my inevitable demise?”
“No! I will literally kill you if you do.”
Casey laughed. Maybe this would be fun after all, he thought.
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About the Author
Rick Pine is an author based in Virginia, USA. Originally born in Leicester, England, Rick moved to the USA with his wife and children in October 2014. This provided him the opportunity to reinvent himself, leaving behind his old career as a Registered Nurse to concentrate on his writing business.
By day Rick is a stay-at-home dad to his two children, who continue to be his inspiration for everything he does. Rick is also an active martial artist who volunteers time each week to teaching others the art. He currently holds the rank of Shodan (1st degree Black Belt) in Shaolin Kempo.
And as if that wasn’t enough, Rick also has a mild to moderate addiction to Bonsai trees, of which he has a growing collection. He also as a passion for life-long learning and has recently taken up the challenge of teaching himself how to code.
If you have a question for Rick about his writing, or anything mentioned above, do get in touch. He’d love to hear from you. You can email him any time here: [email protected].
Where to find Rick:
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/IamRickPine/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/IamRickPine
Website: https://rickpine.com/
Email: rick@rick
pine.com
Acknowledgements
Although I wrote this book all by myself (yay me), I couldn’t have done it without the help and support of so many people, least of all my ever-patient wife, who helped me make the time to make this book a reality, and nodded with encouragement when listening to my plot ideas and odd ramblings. It is not the first time I’ve said this, and it won’t be the last, but you inspire me daily. Thank you, always.
Brandon, I’m not sure if you’re a secret agent or some kind of rogue assassin? In either case, I’ll be forever grateful for all your help with some of the technical aspects of this book. I’ve learned so much already. Oh yes, and… You’re my muse. (he insisted I add that!)
Thank you to the diligent alpha-readers (Steven, Brandon, Carrie, and Tony) who got the chance to read my manuscript even before my editor. Your feedback was awesome. I do hope you like the finished product just as much as you liked it the first time around.
And last, but not least, thank you to Steven Moore, my trusty editor. This novel is, without a doubt, much better because of you. You have helped me become a better writer through this process, and I cannot thank you enough. And even though you’re a Spurs fan, you were a pleasure to work with.
Copyright
A White Lion Media eBook.
http://www.whitelionmedia.com
First published in 2018 by White Lion Media LLC. Copyright © 2018.
All the characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor to be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.