by Jamie Zakian
Barbed wires of panic spread out beneath Otis’s skin. This wasn’t right. Dez definitely wasn’t the take-off type, not even when pushed out the door.
“Go sit with Tyler,” Otis said, and Kev ran down the hall toward Tyler’s room.
Otis walked out the sliding glass door, looking around. Dez’s truck sat under a flickering streetlight, in the same spot as it had been when parked two days ago. This was bad. It wasn’t his damaged mind overreacting. A wickedness clung to the air. Otis could almost smell its bitter residue. It was a foul mixture of burnt soul and Dakkar Noir.
“City folk,” Otis muttered, dropping his gaze. A scatter of red on the curbside caught his eye. His stomach dropped. He didn’t have to inspect the stains. It was Dez’s blood.
A fiery scorch shot through Otis’s chest, its raw ache strong enough to bring tears to his eyes. The man he had once despised and grown to love as a brother was gone, most likely dead. There wouldn’t be a body to bury, no goodbyes. Dez was gone. When those scumbags finish off Sasha, Tyler will have nobody.
“Tyler!” Otis ran back into the hospital. Nurses jumped up at the squeak of his boots, and people backed against the walls as he sprinted by. He didn’t give a fuck about making a scene. If anyone but Kev was in Tyler’s room, the people in this hospital would get one hell of a scene. They’d get to watch him put a bullet in some asshole’s head.
Otis burst through Tyler’s door, pulling his gun, and Kev dove in front of Tyler.
“What?” Kev yelled, reaching for his holster.
“I want my daddy,” Tyler cried out.
The kid’s sad whimper echoed the same thought in Otis’s head. He really fucking wanted Dez too. “I’m gonna take you to him, buddy. We’re blowing this popsicle stand.” Tyler giggled, which dulled the scorching blaze in Otis’s chest to a searing flame. He shut the door and grabbed a bag. All the medical shit he could stuff in this sesame street backpack was coming with them.
“Dude!” Kev tried to block Otis from clearing out a cabinet, only to receive a hard shove. “Where’s Dez?”
Otis froze, his eyes veering to Kev. The look on his face must’ve said it all because Kev staggered back.
“I gotta call Sasha,” Kev said, reaching for the phone.
“No.” Otis snatched the paper with the motel’s phone number off the nightstand, tucking it into his pocket.
“They’re not just gonna let us take the kid out of the hospital,” Kev said, way louder than he should have. “We’re not his parents.”
Otis pulled Kev across the room, far from Tyler’s earshot. “If we split Sasha’s focus, she’ll get killed. Her and Vinny.”
“Is Dez—”
“I don’t know.” Otis didn’t want to hear it, couldn’t admit that Dez was dead. Not yet. “There’s blood on the sidewalk outside. His truck’s still in the parking lot.”
“What if he just ran off with one of the girls? Maybe he’s at the big house, crashed out.”
“Call.” Otis said, knowing it was a useless task. “Call everyone you know. I’m still packing all this shit up.” He pushed Kev out of his way to see Tyler hobbling across the room. The kid’s little gown flapped behind him, showing a complete blast of a full moon.
“What are you doing out of bed?” Otis asked, rushing to Tyler’s side.
“I need my VCR,” he groaned, tugging at the wires.
“I’ll get you a new one, buddy.” Otis reached for Tyler’s arm only to get a tiny hand in his face.
“I’m not going anywhere without my Fraggly Rock video.”
***
Dez
A steady hum filtered in, cutting through the haze that clogged Dez’s mind. Cold metal vibrated beneath his cheek. That sound, the way his head floated on top of its skull-shattering throb, he could swear he was on an airplane.
His eyes only opened halfway, hindered by crusts of dried blood. Shoes. Fancy, glossy loafers filled his view, their polished soles tapping shiny metal.
“The ape is stirring.”
A man’s voice echoed in Dez’s ears, one he could barely register over the drone in the air. The voice was impossible to trace, so he followed the legs attached to those shoes. He never got a glimpse of the man he planned to kill. Curved walls stole his gaze. The riveted steel, that small round window…he really was on an airplane.
“Boss said this one’s an animal.”
They got that goddamn right. Fuckers were about to find out how much of an animal he could really be. A squeak rang out beneath Dez’s fingertips as he dragged himself across the steel floor.
“I got something for him,” a man said, his snide voice booming right above Dez’s head.
Dez rolled over, grabbing onto a calf, and a sharp pinprick stung his neck. A chilled warmth rushed through him, gathering in his fingertips and toes. His clutch gave way without consent. Dez looked up as a needle drifted away from his neck. A whirl took his face back to the metal floor, and a haze of gray rushed in to veil the world in its fuzz.
Chapter Fifteen
Sasha
The table in front of Sasha used to fill her with a sense of belonging. Now it sent chills. It seemed longer, wider, with all those empty seats. The eyes staring at her had changed as well, but she couldn’t place their new glares. Maybe that’s how friends looked right before they killed you.
Sasha pulled out her chair slowly, giving Antonio enough time to tell her to fuck off. After all, her mother’s people, whom she didn’t even know, did just murder his only child. These guys were big on retribution, but wasn’t everyone?
“No,” Antonio said and Sasha froze. “Sit here.”
Eyes lowered as Sasha moved toward the seat closest to Antonio. Enzo grumbled the moment her ass hit the solid wood, his arm sliding away. If only they’d slit her throat and get it over with. Except hands didn’t move under the table to reach for knives, and eyes didn’t grow harsh.
“Tony. I’m sor—”
Antonio grabbed Sasha’s hand, and she flinched.
“Relax. You’re safe now,” Antonio said, squeezing Sasha’s hand. The brief but tight grip emitted more love than her mother had ever spared. That feeling had tethered her to this place once. She couldn’t let it creep up on her again.
“Jesus, Sasha.” Enzo slammed his fist on the table, squirming in his chair. “I didn’t know you were so…I should’ve came when you called. I’m so fucking pissed, I’ll never forgive myself.”
“Nah. I’m good.” Sasha sat up straight, even though it spread fire between her legs.
“You look bad,” Marco said, only flashing his gaze to her face for a fraction of a second. “Like you got hit by a dump truck.”
“Yeah.” Sasha forced a snicker. Though she hadn’t dared to peek in a mirror, she could only imagine how colorful her face must be. “Wait ‘til you hear about what I hit one of them motherfuckers with.” The levity broke, and the air seemed to grow thick. Vengeance tends to do that. “I have some really bad news, Tony.”
“That’s funny,” Antonio said, in a tone that hinted otherwise. “I have some really bad news for you too, Sasha. But please, you go first.”
Sasha barely knew these people, and for no sane reason, she trusted them. She’d spill all her secrets onto this table. It’d make one hell of a mess, but the men here would help her clean it up.
“Dante’s working with the Mancinis.”
“Donatello? My brother?” Antonio’s fist curled, and Sasha shrank down. At least she wasn’t the only person at the table to do so. Every one of them tough guys cowered in their chairs.
Sasha pulled the envelope from her flannel pocket, strategically placed so the top peeked out to prevent any shady reaching movements. “Dante’s the one who sent the Mancinis after me.” Her fingers shook as she slid the letter to Antonio. It wasn’t fear that rocked her core. It was the idea of causing the man any more suffering than he’d already endured.
“It’s his handwriting,” Antonio said the moment he pulled the lett
er from its envelope.
“The men who came for me had this.” That’s when it hit Sasha, men. There was still another Mancini in her town. She had to warn Dez.
Sasha looked across the room, catching a glimpse of Vinny practically nose deep in a waitress’s tits.
“Did you call this number?” Antonio asked, folding the letter and placing it on the table in front of him.
“No. I was hoping you could trace it so we could have a face to face with Dante.”
“You brought backup?” Enzo asked, gesturing to Vinny acting like a straight-up redneck at the bar.
“Yeah. I got another, more brutish guy back at the motel.”
“Smart,” Enzo said, leaning back in his chair. “Have him lose the jacket.”
Sasha sat tall in her chair, glaring at the side of Vinny’s face. His gaze shot to her, as though he could hear her silent call. A light tug to her collar was all it took for Vinny to strip off his coat and drape it over a stool, emblem down.
“I would like to have a talk with my brother. This changes everything.” Antonio looked at Enzo, who nodded.
Secrets didn’t usually fester at this table, which must mean Sasha’s bad news was next.
“Sasha.” Antonio paused, staring off into the crowded restaurant below their platform. For the briefest of seconds, he looked so weak, so broken. Just another victim of this city, lost amongst smiling faces. Then, as though a switch flipped, the steel returned to Antonio’s stare.
“Sasha. I had intended to declare you as my heir, since I no longer have any living children, and bring your father back into the fold. But if Dante has…done this thing, his seat as underboss passes to you. Since he won’t be breathing any longer.”
The part about Dante no longer breathing left a giddy warmth in Sasha’s chest, but she wasn’t taking up anybody’s seat. Decision making was never her strong suit. She had always been more of the vicious bulldog type. “I don’t want either position.”
“That’s too bad,” Antonio said, the way one would scold a child. “It’s the burden that comes with your blood.”
Sasha would bitch, moan, storm out, but Antonio’s glare kept her lips sealed shut and her ass glued to the seat. Apparently, this decision was final. Her, a boss in America’s largest crime syndicate. Every day would be half-naked women and breaking bones, fucking paradise, except the current boss was about to put his son in the ground and kill another one of his brothers. That would not be her life. A high seat at a table of death couldn’t be the legacy she’d leave for Tyler.
Antonio leaned forward, his elbows crashing against the table. “I declare my nephew, Othello Lazzari, as my heir.” A hint of a smile cracked his grief before he settled back into his seat. “In the case of my death, Othello will inherit everything, including my position in the family. It’ll make things right again.”
“I don’t know, boss,” Enzo said. “We don’t know what Othello’s been up to. He could be a cop.”
Sasha snickered as visuals of Otis decked out in a policeman’s get-up streamed through her mind.
“I know what he’s been up to,” Antonio said. “He’s one of Sasha’s men.”
A screech of chairs chirped like a choir. Everyone had to be sure Sasha could see their shock beyond their unnecessary hand gestures. Italian men, they sure did have a flare for the dramatics.
“I was one of his men, actually, but Otis won’t accept this title. He won’t come back to the city, or this family.”
“Like you, my dear, he won’t have a choice,” Antonio said. The way his eyes narrowed when he pushed those words through his clenched teeth turned Sasha’s stomach. It was going to be a fun call home. Not only would she have to warn Dez about a stray Mancini in his town, but she’d have to tell Otis the life he knew was over.
Antonio grabbed the letter, scooting his chair away from the table. “It’ll take me a few hours to get a lead on this number. Do you mind if I hold onto this?”
The man could hold onto that letter forever. Sasha wanted nothing that Dante touched. It was bad enough she had to live in this skin he helped spawn.
“Keep it,” she said, looking away from the curvy script of her name on the envelope.
“Go get some rest. You had a long drive.” Antonio rose, waving to a man in the lobby. “We’ll call you when it’s time to move out. Marco, do we have her information?”
“Yeah, boss. She’s right down the road.”
The lawyer who boosted Sasha from the clink, Spengotti, met Antonio at the bottom of the steps. Sasha watched Antonio shake the man’s hand, ushering him toward the backroom. It was impressive. A glaze coated the man’s stare, and a slight tremble disturbed his fingers, yet Antonio walked through the room without missing a single one of his powerful steps. If her son had been killed, there’d be no discussions, no plans to put in place. She would’ve went bat-shit crazy. The world would be burning as she ran through with a flamethrower. Just the thought sent the room into a whirl. She needed to talk to Tyler, to Dez, right now before an irrational frenzy took hold of her mind.
After a quick nod to the men around the table, Sasha was on her feet. Vinny separated himself from a waitress’s wandering hands the second her boots thumped down the steps. He grabbed his jacket, slinking beside her. What a sight. She couldn’t have choreographed it any better if she tried. Two backwoods truckers stomping across fancy carpet, holding hard glares and forcing those around them back with their invisible wave of badassery. They watched way too many fucking movies.
***
Otis
Otis carried Tyler across the hospital room. It was just like old times, the boy wrapped tight in a blanket, cradled in his arms. Except now, the kid weighed a goddamn ton.
Kev stuck his hands through the open window, and Otis passed Tyler off.
“This is fun,” Tyler all but yelled as Kev maneuvered him through the window frame.
“Shh.” Kev crouched low, hiding behind thick bushes. “We’re being sneaky, little man.”
After tossing the backpack at Kev’s feet, Otis climbed onto the window sill and slipped outside. He’d stolen lots of shit in his long life, but never a kid. This kid was practically his, sort of club property, but it still felt skeevy to nab him.
“Act natural,” Otis grumbled, since Kev had decided now was a good time to play ninja and duck behind every object.
“Right.” Kev stood up straight, clutching Tyler tight as he walked beside Otis across the parking lot.
They made it into the pickup, and Otis peeled wheels. Scary, how easily a person could steal a child from a hospital. Even more scary was the thought of how easy it could’ve been for another person to steal his child from this particular hospital. Now they’d have to take Tyler from his cold, dead hands, which was fine with him. Otis glanced across the cab, catching the kid’s smile in a flash of streetlights. What a smile, like Sasha’s when she was that age. He’d die a million deaths to protect that grin, slaughter any person who tried to snuff it out.
“We can’t take him to the holler,” Kev said, still snuggling Tyler like a baby.
“I wish we could put him in an indestructible box, under the ground, in the middle of a mine field.”
Kev tapped Otis’s chest seven times, which was six too many.
“There’s a fallout shelter on my uncle’s farm. A small TV, bed, shelves of canned fruit…it’s done up nice.”
“Yeah?” Otis said, speeding away from the town’s bright lights and into the darkness of the mountains. A secret fallout shelter that even he didn’t know existed sounded pretty damn good right about now. It’s not what Sasha would do, or Dez. They’d run into the fight headfirst and get everyone killed.
“I can get all my cousins to come over with sawed-offs,” Kev said, unraveling the blanket so Tyler could move his arms. “Nobody’ll get past us, if they can even find us.”
An army of Kevs, brandishing sawed-offs. It could be enough brainpower to take out two, maybe three, men.
&
nbsp; “It’s good.” Otis busted a right, heading for the freeway. “What do you say, buddy?” He glanced at Tyler, forcing a smile. “Want to check out uncle Kev’s farm?”
“Is Daddy there?”
Otis squeezed the steering wheel so tight his fingers burned. “Not yet. He will be, though.”
Kev shot Otis a hopeful glare, matching the one beaming from Tyler. The tattered pieces of Otis’s heart shattered into dust. It couldn’t be too late to save Dez. He had to find the man, bring him back to his kid.
“Sasha’s gonna freak if she tries to call the room.” The way Kev said it, you’d think he’d just figured that out.
“You’ll call her, say Tyler got his room switched, give her your uncle’s phone number.”
“Me!” Kev cried out, leaning against his door. “No way, man. You should do it.”
“I can’t. After I make sure Tyler’s all set-up, I’m jumping on a plane to New York.”
***
Sasha
Sasha slammed the phone down. Twice she’d called Tyler’s hospital room, and the fucker just rang. Granted, she did place the calls within a twenty second timespan, but still.
“Everything cool?” Vinny asked, poking his head inside her motel room.
“Nobody’s answering at the hospital.”
“Maybe they let Tyler go home,” Vinny said, strolling inside.
Sasha grabbed the phone, dialing the big house, and Vinny sat beside her. Another ceaseless ring grated her ear. Same shit from the clubhouse’s line, not that she expected any different at this point. She’d freak out, wreck the place, but Vinny had just sparked a joint and she didn’t want to miss a puff of sticky buds.
A few deep hits and ideas started to pop into Sasha’s head. “I could call the operator, have her connect me to the hospital’s main line.”
“Yeah,” Vinny said through a stream of smoke. “Kev’s probably still in the waiting room. He’d be the easiest to track down.”