Knocked Up by the Killer

by B. B. Hamel

  The room was magnificent. Or at least it was at one point. The walls were all covered in paint and plaster, and every inch of the place was being rebuilt. The floor was a gorgeous tile mosaic, and a glittering chandelier hung above the destruction, the only untouched piece in the room.

  Everything else was pockmarked or scorched. The smell of burnt wood and gunpowder still hung in the air. The walls were littered with bullet holes and there were large gashes torn in the tile.

  I walked through it. A couple guys stood over near the staircase. The handrail had been ripped to shreds and only a few sticks of wood were left over from the once-glorious railing.

  “Hey,” one of the guys called out, a fat man with pig eyes and a pen between his teeth. “Hey, Joey, drop that fuckin’ bag, what are you doin’?”

  I grunted something and kept going.

  But Pigman didn’t give up so easy. “Joey, hey!” He came down the steps toward me. I heard him stomp on the tiles as I walked.

  I did the only sensible thing I could think of. I slipped a knife from my picket, flicked it open, and jabbed it into the Quikrete. The white powdered concrete fluttered out into the air. I cut a huge hole then pretended to stumble. I turned and slammed the bag down onto the floor.

  Concrete blasted up into the air.

  “Fuckin’ shit!” Pigman shouted. “What the fuckin’ fuck! Holy shit, is that concrete? What the fuck!”

  I ran, shirt over my mouth, trying not to breathe. I gagged and coughed, but I made it into the hall and around the corner. I stopped and leaned up against the wall, brushing as much of the concrete from my clothes and hair. I took a second to look around at the blackened and burned formerly plush red carpet, at the holes in the walls, at the partially painted and replaced doors.

  Then I moved again. I heard more shouting behind me and picked up the pace. Those guys were going to be fucking pissed, so I’d better find a new way out of this place. I just guaranteed they’d be spending the next week cleaning that shit out of that room.

  Up ahead, a door opened. I ducked to the side and slipped into another open doorway. The room behind me was dark and empty, but it looked like it used to be a parlor of some kind. The furniture was covered in drop cloths and the walls were a fresh white.

  Voices echoed down to me. One male, one female.

  “— need to stay away.”

  “He’s always like this,” a woman said.

  “I know that, Mona,” the man said. I recognized his voice and a smile passed over my lips. “But just tell Vincent to keep his head together, all right? The Don’s got a lot on his mind.”

  “Like this renovation?”

  The couple stopped outside of the room I was hiding in. My heart hammered in my chest, and although I couldn’t see them, I could picture the guy in my mind.

  Medium height, bald head, beady little eyes, pissed-off expression. That was Roberto, the Don’s main bodyguard, and potentially the second most important man in the entire family. He had the Don’s ear unlike anyone else.

  “The renovation’s just a start,” Roberto said. “Please, Mona. Go home. Go tell Vincent to keep things quiet, all right?”

  “I’ll try,” Mona said. “You know my husband. He’s not really interested in pleasing anyone.”

  “Except for you.”

  Mona laughed. “Which is why he’d better listen.”

  “I know he’s on edge. This new family in town’s been causing all sorts of problems. But we’re handling it, so Vincent doesn’t need to worry himself.”

  “I’ll pass that along. And tell the Don I stopped by. I was hoping I could invite him to dinner this weekend.”

  “I’ll let him know.”

  More yelling from the main room. “We got concrete here! Youse guys better be careful, yeah?”

  “What the hell is this?” Roberto grumbled, and the pair of them moved away.

  I lingered in the room and poked my head into the hallway. I saw Roberto down talking to the workers. The woman slipped past them and disappeared around the corner. I caught a glimpse of a pretty face, dark hair, slim waist, but then she was gone.

  Roberto gestured at the mess then came stomping back toward me.

  I didn’t think too much. The plan just formed itself in my brain. Sometimes shit happened that way, like the best ideas formed without you even realizing it, like your brain’s just some machine ticking away all the time, and it only feeds you the important stuff when you need it.

  As Roberto got closer, I whistled. Just a little chirp, but loud enough for him to hear. His footsteps stopped and he stood in the hall, probably straining himself to listen.

  So I whistled again.

  “The fuck?” Roberto said. He stepped into the room.

  I moved fast. I slammed the heel of my palm against his ear as hard as I could. It knocked him back and stunned him. I slammed the door shut then turned as he growled and came at me.

  But Roberto was more bark than bite, and anyway, he was off balance from that slap. He came too low and I was able to drive an elbow into the back of his neck, slamming him to the floor. I wrestled him until I got one of his arms behind his back, his wrist locked in my right hand, while I wrapped my left arm around his neck.

  “Fuck,” he gasped. “What the hell.”

  “Hiya, Roberto,” I said, perfectly pleasant.

  “Tanner?” He gagged as I put more pressure on his throat. “Get off me, you fucking psycho. You want to die? You really want to die?”

  “I’m pretty sure you already tried killing me,” I said.

  “We didn’t even start trying yet,” he growled, then groaned as I pushed his arm a little bit more.

  “You keep threatening me and I’ll break your wrist,” I said. “Then I’ll dislocate your shoulder. And then I’ll kick you in the skull until you die.”

  He breathed hard, face against the cold wood floor.

  “That’s better,” I said. “Now, Roberto, it’s nice to see you.”

  “You spilled that concrete, didn’t you?”

  “Sorry,” I said. “I know that’s a huge pain. But they’ll clean it up, and it’s not like the Don can’t afford it.”

  He grunted. “Why are you here?”

  “You can probably guess,” I said. “I mean, you sent Bennigan after me. How’d that go, by the way?”

  “Just another dead asshole,” Roberto said.

  “True enough.” I relaxed my arm around his neck, but kept pressure on his wrist. “Here’s the thing. All this fighting, it’s not good for anyone. Now I’ve been putting pressure on Dante to put pressure on your boss, but that hasn’t been working out so great.”

  “Dante don’t work for you,” Roberto said.

  “No kidding.”

  “He’s a good, loyal—”

  I pushed his wrist just a tiny bit more.

  He moaned in pain.

  “Don’t be annoying,” I said.

  “Fine,” he gasped.

  I released the pressure. He breathed hard, big gasping grunts.

  “He tried,” Roberto said. “Talked to the Don a few times. But the Don thinks that this new family’s going to be a big threat. He knows they’re from New York, and his son even says they’re hot shit up there. The Don thinks we need to hit and hit hard, which is why the girl’s head was on the block.”

  “I can understand that,” I said. “But the Don’s wrong. Drago’s in town, but he’s not a real threat. He’s old, out of touch, and weaker than you realize.”

  “Don still wants him gone.”

  “Here’s the thing. That’s not going to happen. And I don’t want a mafia war to break out.”

  “Why the fuck do you care so much?” He struggled a bit and turned his head. One beady little brown eye stared up at me as he grinned against the wood grain floor. “Got the hots for the girl?”

  I pushed. He gasped in pain as his shoulder popped out of the socket.

  “Lucky bastard,” I said. “I was trying to break your wrist.
”

  He moaned as I jammed a knee into his lower back.

  “Fuck you,” he said.

  “Look, Roberto, baby. I got some news recently that makes this all very personal, so you gotta work with me, okay?” I relaxed my grip on him, but his arm didn’t move. I could probably fix it, but not just yet.

  “We don’t owe you shit, you motherfucker.”

  “Come on, don’t be like that. You baited me into hurting you and you know it.”

  “Fuck you, Tanner.”

  “Fair enough. But hear me out. If you don’t sit down and talk with Drago Borghi, I’m going to come back here and break your wrist. If that doesn’t get you to the table, I’m going to come back and kill you. Then I’ll find the Don himself, dislocate his shoulder, and give him this same speech. Eventually I’ll have to kill every single one of you motherfuckers, but I’ll do it, and you know I will.”

  He breathed hard like a pig on the way to slaughter. I stood up and kicked at his side. He rolled over onto his back, his arm flopping to the side. Sweat poured down his square, pale face, his bald head shining.

  “Tell me you understand,” I said.

  “I’m ready to die for the Don,” he said.

  “I know. But you dying won’t help him at all. So tell me you understand and you’re going to go talk to him. You’re going to convince him that sitting down with Drago’s the right thing to do for everyone. You’re going to do that because you want to keep living, and because you want your Don to keep living.”

  Roberto stared hard at me then nodded. “You’re a psycho,” he said.

  “I know, darling.” I knelt down next to him then took his wrist. He grimaced and shied away from me. “This is going to hurt.”

  “Wait,” he said, “hold on, don’t—”

  I took his hand in mine like we were about to arm wrestle. I pulled his arm down, then turned his hand out, so his palm faced toward my chest. He groaned and I felt his shoulder slip back into place. Once it was in, I stretched his arm out then pressed against the shoulder with my fingers.

  With his other hand, he reached into his waistband. I jabbed my fist into his nose once, twice, then grabbed his other hand and pulled the gun from his fingers.

  “Come on,” I said. “Are you serious? I pop your shoulder back into place, and you try that shit.”

  “Fuck you,” he said. “Had to try.”

  “Talk to your Don.” I patted his face hard. Blood poured from his broken nose. “Tell him I stopped by. Tell him what we talked about. And seriously, Roberto, don’t be stupid. You know I don’t fuck around about this stuff.”

  He stared up at me and I could tell he wanted to spit.

  I almost wanted him to do it. I’d be happy to rearrange his face a little bit more.

  Instead, he just nodded once.

  I slipped his gun into my waistband and stood. He pushed himself up and sat there, bleeding from his nose, right arm resting in his lap.

  He said nothing as I opened the door, looked outside, and stepped into the hallway.

  The construction guys were still cleaning up and cursing at each other. I whistled as I walked past them.

  “‘Scuse me, gents,” I said. “Bad mess there. Someone really fucked up.”

  “Asshole,” Pigman muttered.

  I smiled as I walked out onto the street. Not a bad afternoon, as far as it went.

  Now I just had to hope my little message finally reached the Don.

  25

  Elise

  My father burst in through the front door and threw himself across the room. I stood up from the couch, mouth hanging open. “What’s going on?”

  He glared at me, stomped into the kitchen, and threw open a cabinet. I followed him, the front door still hanging open. He poured a glass of whiskey, threw it back, poured another.

  “Dad,” I said. “What’s happening?”

  “The family,” he said. “The Leones. They’re sending a representative to talk to me.”

  “Oh.” I stared at him not sure what to say. “Right now?”

  “Right now,” he said. “They’re coming here.”

  “Shouldn’t you—”

  “Have a whole lot of guns?” He stared at me. “I’ve got guys on the way.”

  “You’re not starting a war right here,” I said.

  “I don’t plan on shooting if they don’t.”

  He poured another glass. I walked over and took it from him before he could drink. He looked shaken and I’d never seen him on edge like that before. I drank the whiskey myself and felt it burn down my throat.

  “Hear them out,” I said. “Tanner thinks they’re going to make a deal.”

  “Tanner’s not as smart as he thinks he is.”

  “So far, he’s been pretty right.”

  Dad snorted. “So you say. He’s just a hitman. I don’t know what you see in that guy.”

  “He’s kept me safe.” I took the bottle from his hands. “Now, get yourself together, and—”

  There was a knock from the living room. “Hello? Door’s open, you know. Anyone could walk in.”

  Dad’s eyes bugged out. I gave him a look, put a hand on his arm, then turned and walked into the living room.

  Two men stood in the doorway. One was tall, dark hair, dark eyes, handsome. The other was smaller and stocky. They both wore dark suits.

  The taller man smiled at me. “You must be Elise,” he said.

  “And you must be one of the guys that’s trying to kill me.”

  He laughed. “My name’s Vincent Leone,” he said. “Son of the dreaded Don himself.” His eyes moved over my shoulder where my father stood framed in the kitchen doorway. I stepped aside as my father walked across the room toward Vincent, his eyes hard, his body held tense and ready.

  All signs of anxiety were gone.

  “Vincent,” Dad said. “I was wondering when I’d see you.”

  “How are things?” Vincent asked. “You’re far from home.”

  “That’s true,” Dad said. He held out a hand and Vincent took it. They shook and stared at each other like they were going to start murdering each other then and there. “Come inside.”

  Vincent shrugged and stepped in. The stocky guy stepped out and stayed on the stoop. Dad shut the door and turned, gesturing at the table.

  “Let’s talk here,” Dad said.

  I sat at the far end. Vincent sat opposite me. And Dad sat to my left.

  There was a long, tense silence. Vincent leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, a smirk on his lips.

  “In New York, you’re hot shit, Drago,” Vincent said. “I don’t get why you’d come here, though. My family’s owned Philly for a long time.”

  “My daughter’s here,” Dad said. “And it’s a new market. You guys are old and stale. I figured, why not move in, take a cut?”

  “Yeah, I can understand that,” Vincent said. “That’s why I came up north. Tried to start a new family.”

  “I heard you’re expanding into Chicago.”

  Vincent shrugged. “Something like that.”

  “And here I am, expanding into Philly. It’s a prosperous nation, after all.”

  Vincent laughed and leaned forward, hands on the table. “Let’s talk business then.”

  “All right,” Dad said. “What’s it going to take to make you losers leave this town?”

  Vince snorted. “I was wondering the same thing.”

  “I don’t plan on going anywhere,” Dad said. “See, I’ve taken a shine to Philly. I like the houses, you know? I like the food. Good cheesesteaks. Lots of shit going on in this little town. And I figure, since I’m used to a much bigger city, I can probably fit right in down here.”

  “But like you said, it’s a small place,” Vincent said. “And we own it already. So you might want to think about, you know, finding another spot to live, yeah?”

  “Maybe,” Dad said.

  “You could always share,” I said.

  Both men looked at me.
Dad looked pissed, Vincent just smiled.

  “Your daughter’s got a point,” Vincent said. “Philly’s small, but it’s not that small. We own most of it, but not all. There are a few spots you could make into, if you’re willing to clear out the local trash.”

  “Not interested in your leavings.”

  “Best I can offer you. There are a few gangs up north that give us shit from time to time, and I wouldn’t be so upset if you went and took them out, then took over their territory.”

  “You want me to move in up north?” Dad snorted. “Fuck that. I want the south.”

  “You can’t have it.” Vincent shook his head.

  “Then the west. Give me a piece of the west. I like that school out there, what’s it called?”

  “UPenn,” Vincent said. “What you wanna do, sell crack to frat boys?”

  “Sure,” Dad said. “Good business. Kids are dumb as fuck.”

  “Dad,” I said.

  He shrugged and made a dismissive gesture.

  “I can’t make any promises here,” Vincent said.

  “So why the fuck did you show up at my house?”

  “My father wants to meet,” Vincent said. “Talk this out, man to man. Don to Don, so to speak.”

  “I could do that, but I don’t trust you.”

  “And we don’t trust you.”

  “You’re the ones that tried to kill my daughter.”

  Vincent held up a hand. “That’s true. But here she is, alive and well.”

  “All thanks to Tanner.”

  Vincent’s face dropped at his name. “Tanner, yeah. He’s been a real pain in my ass, you know that, right?”

  “I bet he has.” Dad grinned. “He’s not exactly easy to work with, you know?”

  “If you’re willing to talk and be reasonable, my father’s willing to sit down and work something out,” Vincent said. “And let me be clear that this is a better situation than any other fucking crew ever gets in this damn town. You can thank Tanner for that, too.”

  “I just might,” Dad said.

  “So consider it. Come sit and talk.”

  “I don’t know.” Dad looked at his nails. “Talking to a bunch of bitches like you. Hard to picture, you know? I’d rather kill a few of you first and make you all come to me.”