by Jamie Zakian
“Did he have ID on him?”
“No,” Vinny said, holding out an envelope. “Just this.”
Her name gleamed on the paper, in script she’d never seen before. Sasha grabbed the envelope, whacking it on the guy’s face. “What’s this?”
“Open it and find out.”
“Damn. You got a nasty fucking attitude.” Sasha pulled the gun from her waistband, pressing its barrel against the man’s temple. He didn’t squirm or break his hard stare, so she clicked the hammer back. “Aren’t you even gonna try to grovel for your life?”
“There’s no point.”
“You’re right.” Sasha shoved the letter and gun into Vinny’s hands, then pulled a knife from Otis’s belt. “You see that there.” She pointed the tip of the long, serrated blade at the man’s shoe, tapping the little red spot. “That’s my kid’s blood. You made my kid bleed.”
Sasha’s hands trembled. She couldn’t get the image of Tyler hanging upside down from her head. His little hands, dangling from a limp body, were seared into her eyes, and she couldn’t shake it. She could still feel the drops of blood that rained from the child’s cuts, even though she’d scrubbed them away. The only way to make it stop was to slice.
For every mark that blemished her son’s smooth skin, Sasha left a gash ten times deeper. Skin ripped as she dragged the knife along the man’s cheek, chin, the corner of his eye. Hints of tendons tore beneath her blade and peeked out from tatters of flesh before disappearing under pools of blood. Messy, things were getting messy and loud. The man’s screams not only bounced off the wall but sprayed blood. Sasha’s freshly cleaned clothes were now speckled in red and the man’s face was a disaster, but she couldn’t miss that one spot on his forehead.
“There we go,” she said, stepping back to stare at her masterpiece. It was hard to tell if she got the placements of the cuts right. With all that blood and puffy skin, the guy’s face just looked like chopped meat. She lifted the knife, pointing it at the man, and a stream of blood flew from its tip. “They had to take out my son’s spleen.”
Thick drops of blood dripped from the knife’s teeth as Sasha cut the guy’s shirt open. She had no idea where the spleen was. This guy’s flabby stomach could be hiding three spleens. She’d just have to cut extra deep and take out everything.
Sasha drove the blade into the man’s flesh. His howl shuddered her grip on the handle. All those layers of fat put up quite a struggle, which is why she put her foot on the table for leverage and pushed harder. A twist of her wrist sent a spurt of blood into the air, its splat lost under garbled cries.
“Sasha!” Vinny yelled, halting her tear of skin.
She veered her glare to Vinny, her hand still tugging at whatever bone the tip of her blade was stuck on.
“Aren’t you supposed to be getting information?” Vinny asked, looking away from the blood-soaked table.
“Right,” Sasha said through a chuckle. Since the knife wouldn’t budge, she left it planted in the man’s stomach. “I actually forgot.” She wiped her hands on the guy’s slacks, cringing at the puffy shards of flesh meant to be the guy’s face. “Hey, asshole. What’s your name?”
“F-Fuck, you,” he managed to choke out between groans.
“I don’t think he’s talking.” Sasha glanced around the dusty floor, grinning at the sight of a sledgehammer. Another lovely gift this perfect place had to offer. It was heavier than she expected and felt better than she thought it would in her hand.
“Hold up,” Otis said, lifting his hand to stop Sasha as she dragged a sledgehammer toward the logging table. He lit a cigarette, strolling next to the man who sniveled and gagged on his own blood. “Guess we better get Ellen in here,” he said, nodding to Vinny.
“I knew it,” the man stuttered, squirming against the ropes around him. “My sister can’t die. She’s like a cockroach.”
“He’s a Mancini,” Otis said, dropping his cigarette in a puddle of blood. “Your uncle.”
Sasha barely heard anything after get Ellen in here. How could she hear, with that pound in her temples? “Is she really dead?” Sasha clutched onto Otis, his jacket crinkling in her grasp. “Did you see my mother’s body?”
“Yeah, I…” Otis laid his hand atop Sasha’s balled fist, holding tight. “I did. She was really fucking dead. I’m sorry, Sasha. I didn’t mean to…”
Otis was a liar to the core, but no one could fake the amount of sadness trapped in Otis’s gaze. The second of hope twisted Sasha’s mind. She couldn’t take the aimlessness that came with not being told what to do. It could have ended, if her mother really was alive. Since only chaos remained, she figured, fuck it. Why not dive in headfirst?
The sledgehammer scraped the concrete floor as Sasha walked across the room. She slammed its solid head onto the thick steel table, drawing a yelp from the man’s split lips.
“Slide me that stool,” Sasha said, glancing at Vinny. When the legs of a stool didn’t grind against the floor, she looked over and into a leery glare. “Do you need to wait outside?”
Vinny kicked the stool, sending it in a skid to Sasha’s feet. She climbed up the wobbly legs, standing tall atop the seat. “Hold me steady.” The stool stopped teetering once Otis clutched her hips. She lifted the sledgehammer, glaring down at the bloody mess of a man wriggling on the table. “Why did you come after me?”
Sasha gave the guy all of two seconds to answer before letting the mallet’s weight drop. The head slammed against the man’s arm, cracking it sideways. His scream swallowed up the snap of his bone and grated Sasha’s ears. She’d had enough. Answers didn’t mean shit to her at this point, only silencing the man’s agonizing shrieks.
“You should’ve changed your shoes, Uncle Asshole.” Sasha swung the sledgehammer, bringing it down on the man’s face. The massive splatter of pink and scarlet clumps jolted her body back. It was like a watermelon hit with a twelve gauge, surprising. A clump of skull-laced brain dripped from the mallet’s head as she dropped the sledgehammer on the man’s twitching body, easing off the stool.
“We’re gonna need some gas,” Sasha said, looking between Otis and Vinny’s stunned faces.
***
Vinny
“That was…scary.” Vinny strummed his fingers on the steering wheel of his pickup, speeding away from the sawmill. He didn’t even want to look at Sasha. It wasn’t the bloodbath painting her skin that bothered him. It was the bloodlust in her eyes.
“Yeah. So was seeing Tyler all busted up, unconscious, hanging from the seatbelt I’m glad you told me to put on him.”
It was a good point. If Vinny were in her position…hell, he would’ve done worse. “Now what?”
“Turn into the motel. I wanna get my shit.”
Vinny busted a left, driving along a row of doors. Only one was kicked open, spilling light onto the sidewalk. It had to be Sasha’s room.
“Motherfucker!” Sasha jumped from the cab before Vinny could shift into neutral.
“Wait.” Vinny grabbed his gun, hurrying after her. Mobsters didn’t materialize from the woodwork with Tommy guns, which was always a plus, but Sasha was fuming. Her shit was strewn on every surface. Ripped flannels scattered the stripped bed, pieces of denim covered the orange carpet in blue, and a little card with the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s seal rested on the nightstand.
“That’s real fucking mature,” Sasha grumbled, climbing atop a long dresser.
“What are you doing?”
“I stashed something up here.” On the tips of her toes, she reached up and pushed aside a square of tile. “Hopefully—Yes!”
A black briefcase slid from the ceiling, and Sasha jumped to the floor. Headlights flooded the room, a rumble silencing the cricket’s chirp. Vinny glanced out the open door as Otis pulled behind his still running truck.
“We should get back to the hospital,” Sasha yelled from the bathroom, over the stream of running water. “What time is it?”
Otis leaned against the doorwa
y, lighting a cigarette. “They’re gonna send more, smarter people.”
“Let ‘em.” Sasha strolled from the bathroom, tossing a blood-stained towel to the floor. “I’ll pick ‘em off one by one.”
“Aren’t they your family?” Vinny asked, snatching the cigarette from Otis’s hand before it could reach the man’s lips.
“No. Tyler’s my family, and you guys.”
Otis grabbed his cigarette back, glaring at Sasha. “The Mancinis are gonna come here, come for Tyler as retribution.”
“No, they won’t.” Sasha snatched the cigarette from Otis’s lips, taking a long drag. “I’m gonna find them first.”
Vinny had no intention of letting Sasha run off on her own. By the looks on Otis’s face, that guy wasn’t down for murdering Ellen’s kinfolk. Vinny didn’t care. Ellen never gave a fuck about hurting his people and she knew them, supposedly loved them.
“I have this.” Vinny pulled the letter from his pocket, waving it in Sasha’s face. “I bet it’s important.”
Sasha reached out and Vinny lifted the letter high, far from her grasp.
“Give it.”
“Not until you—”
The tip of Sasha’s boot slammed into Vinny’s shin. Sharp prickles took him to a bend, and she plucked the letter from his grasp.
“Damn.” Vinny rubbed his leg as Sasha ripped open the envelope. When snickers didn’t fill his ears, he looked up and into wide eyes. “What does it say?”
It looked like she wanted to talk, the way her mouth inched open, but nothing came out. Otis took the paper from Sasha’s tight grip, stepping into the light.
“Hey, little girl,” Otis read out loud, “been waiting a long time for you to wake up. We need to talk. Call me, when you’re done with your temper tantrum and ready to have a civilized conversation. No games, little girl. I’ll know.” Otis folded the paper and Sasha snatched it from his hand.
“You gonna call the number?” Otis asked.
“No. I’m gonna have the Lazzaris use their connections to trace it. Then I’ll pay Dante a visit, in person.”
Otis grabbed Sasha’s arm, stopping her mad dash from the room. “He’s with the Mancinis.”
“I’m going with you,” Vinny said, trying his damnedest to keep from sounding like a whiny sidekick. Sasha grinned, and not the snarky yeah-right one. It was relief.
“I can’t go back there.” Otis released Sasha, backing out the door. “Sorry, Sasha.” He got into his truck without another word and drove from the motel’s parking lot.
“You ready?” Sasha asked, heading to Vinny’s truck.
“What, we’re leaving right now?” Vinny followed Sasha to his truck, standing outside the passenger door.
“No.” Sasha slid onto the bench seat, fishing through the ashtray, probably in search of a joint, which she’d most likely find. “We have to face someone much worse than my psychotic father and long-lost mobster family. Dez.”
***
Sasha
A ray of sunlight peeked over the hospital’s west wing, beaming down to hit Sasha right in the eye. She’d been left shade-less, thanks to the douchy feds and their teenage girl hissy-fit.
It would’ve been ridiculous to think Otis had run here just to check on Tyler and not tattle on her planned rampage. Judging by the huddle going on in the corner when she walked into Tyler’s room, tattling was exactly what Otis was doing.
“Mommy!” Tyler reached out, groaned, and then grabbed his stomach.
Sasha ran to the bed, beating Dez in a race to hold the child’s quivering body. “Careful, little dude. You’re on the mend,” she said, keeping a light clutch on Tyler’s arm.
Tyler nodded, leaning back against the pillow. “I wanna go home, watch my Fraggly Rock video.”
Sasha laid her lips atop Tyler’s head, hiding her frown in his messy hair. “Did they say when he could go home?” she asked, looking at Dez.
“Why? You won’t be here,” Dez sneered, and Tyler tensed up.
“You’re leaving?” Tyler squawked.
“Yeah,” Sasha said, and Tyler clung to her arm. “But only to go get my stuff, so I can move in with you.”
That brought a smile to Tyler’s swollen lips, and he settled back against the pillows. Sasha stood, pushing Dez into the farthest corner of the room. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Dez grabbed Sasha’s hand, pulling it to his chest. “I just got you back.”
“I have to go. It’s the only way to protect Tyler.”
Dez slid his arms around Sasha’s waist, holding tight. “We can protect Tyler here, together.”
The comfort that came with Dez’s touch almost crumbled Sasha’s will. She looked away from his soft gaze. The blaze that lit his eyes would scramble her brain and force her to stay, which would bring two mob families to her son’s doorstep.
“No. I can’t take that chance,” Sasha said.
Hurt spanned Dez’s face. Sasha braced for it, but his shove still knocked her back two steps.
“You just wanna run in and save the day for the Lazzari family.”
“That’s not what this is about. I don’t give a fuck about the Lazzaris or the Mancinis.” Sasha wanted to throw her arms around Dez, hug him tight in case it was her last chance, but fear held her back. An attempt to embrace that man was like trying to pet a stray dog. Fucker could bite. “I want to build a life with you and Tyler, but my shit list is a mile long and it just keeps getting longer every day. I can cross almost everyone off in one trip, three days max.”
Dez sneered, turning away. “Yeah, well, maybe I won’t be waiting around for you this time.”
This conversation was going fucking swell, and she didn’t even drop the Vinny part yet. As if on cue, Vinny walked into the room holding her briefcase. He handed it to Sasha, shooing Otis away from Tyler to go in for a hug.
“What’s that?” Dez asked, tapping the case.
“I brought this for Tyler,” she said, holding out the briefcase. “You’ll know what to do with it better than I will.”
Dez hesitated, almost like she was handing him a bomb.
“It’s forty-eight g’s,” Sasha said, and Dez snatched the handle.
“What the—”
“My earnings, for the last year. I thought the kid should get it.”
For a second, it looked like Dez might give hating her a rest. Then she remembered, there actually was a bomb she had to drop.
“I’m taking Vinny with me.”
“Right,” Dez said, like he’d just figured out the secrets of the universe. “Of course you are.”
Vinny, with his stupid knack for horrible timing, stepped beside Sasha and Dez’s glare warped from fiery to inferno. “You’re both assholes!”
“Dude,” Vinny drawled, and Dez snorted.
“Just go,” Dez said, waving them off. “Have fun.”
Through sheer luck, Sasha was able to grab Dez’s hand. More luck allowed her to pull him close. Either that, or he’d gotten weak in his old age.
“This is some kind of revenge, isn’t it?” Dez dropped his stare, squeezing Sasha’s hand. “For what I did, with…her.”
“No!” Sasha could slug Dez for bringing that up. A coma, months playing hooky, all the beautiful women she’d fucked, and she still couldn’t scrub away the vile thought of Dez’s hands on her mother’s body.
“We’ll bring Cash,” Vinny said in a rush. “He can be your spy.”
If it wouldn’t make her look guilty, Sasha would slap Vinny upside the head for cooking up such a stupid idea. She didn’t even know which one of those twins was Cash.
“Just come back alive.” Dez didn’t look at either of them as he brushed by. He just passed the briefcase to Otis and squeezed on the bed beside Tyler.
Sasha stared at her son who was cuddling under Dez’s arm, his deep brown eyes fixed on her. The announcement of her departure was supposed to be the hard part. Boy had she been foolish. It was the
actual leaving them, here in this hospital room, that turned out to be damn-near impossible. Her knees quaked, threatening to give out. She could do this, she could walk over there and kiss her son goodbye, for what might be the last time and not weep like a baby.
Chapter Thirteen
Both of those Neanderthal looking twins dashed from the clubhouse when Vinny’s truck pulled into the lot. The sight of their dewy eyes laid a ten-pound load on Sasha, which was awesome ‘cause the weight on her shoulders just wasn’t heavy enough.
“Are we really taking one of them lunkheads along?”
Vinny shrugged, parking beside the garage. “Why not? It’s always good to have backup.”
The prospect’s sloppy steps kicked up gravel as they hurried to Sasha’s door. Those two didn’t look like backup. The poor naive bastards were walking casualties, having had only broken soldiers to train them.
“We’re gonna get Cash killed,” Sasha muttered, opening her door.
Vinny hesitated, clinging to his open truck door. Sasha hoped he’d changed his mind, decided not to drag some wet-behind-the-ears farm boy into a big city wolf den, but he just said, “I gotta grab some shit.”
Sasha climbed from the pickup as Vinny headed for the stairs beside the garage. She turned from the thump of boot on what should be her steps, glaring at two jacked-up versions of Kev. “Which one of you is Cash?”
They both stood up straight, shooting a near identical dumbass stare at each other. The tall, wide one stepped forward and gulped. At least the guy had enough sense to be terrified.
“Sorry bro, you gotta come with us to New York. Go pack a bag, be sure to put some clothes in with the guns. Other guy,” Sasha racked her memory for a name, coming up blank.
“Cory.”
“Right.” Sasha didn’t have time to feel like an asshole, and the men in front of her didn’t have time to be offended. “Cory. Go bring Tyler his freaky rock video and the VCR. Maybe the TV too. The ones they got there are shit.”
They scurried toward the big house, and Sasha headed up to Vinny’s room. The second she crossed the threshold, Vinny tossed a backpack at her chest.