by Jamie Zakian
A ring filled the room, rattling the phone against the nightstand. It was a goddamn beautiful sound, but Sasha wasn’t letting it flow a second time. She snatched the phone from the receiver and said, “Hello,” before it reached her ear.
“Hey, Sasha. I’m glad I caught you,” Kev said.
Even through hundreds of miles of telephone wire, Sasha could smell Kev’s bullshit. It was uncanny. “I need to talk to Dez,” she said, making a mental note to slap Kev the next time she saw him.
“Oh,” Kev said, his squeaky tone vibrating the earpiece. “Well, Dez just crashed out.”
“Otis then.”
“Fuck. Otis just split to run home for a shower.”
“How come nobody answered Tyler’s line?” Sasha yelled into the phone. “What the fuck, dude?”
“They moved Tyler to a new room. You want the new number?”
“Yeah, asshole.” Sasha scribbled down the number, which looked vaguely familiar. “Are you there now, with Dez and Tyler?”
“Uh…yeah,” Kev said, in squeaky liar’s tone. “They’re both snoring. I can wake them up if you want.”
Sasha did want that. But if they really were sleeping, and after the day they’d had, it’d be a dick move to wake them just so she could hear their voices. “No. But listen, there are still people in town looking to hurt me. Y’all need to be real careful. Don’t let Tyler out of your sight. Tell Dez as soon as he wakes up.”
“Don’t worry. I got this.”
Those five little words were enough to make Sasha want to hop a jet and fly home.
“Just tell Dez and Otis what I said and kiss Tyler for me.” She hung up before Kev could utter some dumb shit to rile her last nerve.
“All good?” Vinny asked, relighting what was left of the joint.
Sasha flopped back on the mattress, staring up at the sparkly ceiling. “Kev’s lying. I wish I could see through the phone, take a peek at what’s really going on back there.”
“That would be cool.” Vinny dropped beside Sasha, propping on his elbow. “Like, we could do it with the TVs. They could be cameras and telephones too.”
Sasha rolled onto her side, stealing the joint from Vinny’s grasp. He’d obviously had too much. “That’s just crazy. You’re high.”
“You’re fucking high.” Vinny reached for the joint, and Sasha moved it farther away. “Give it, bogart.”
“Nope. You’re 86’d, man,” she said through a snicker, falling onto her back to keep the joint from Vinny’s reach. His arm glided along her chest, igniting sparks. He must’ve felt them too, because he stopped reaching for her hand and looked down at her face. A soft fire lit his eyes, jacking up the already too blue shade. It was like gazing into an ocean and staring at the morning sky all at once, magnificent, stunning, impossible to turn away from.
Vinny ran his rough fingertips along Sasha’s cheek, gentle, slow. The tiny electric shocks of Vinny’s touch cut her breaths short, fully disrupting her ability to form proper thoughts. A kiss. That should stop this assault of tingles and help her build an immunity to his entrancing stare.
All she had to do was lift her chin, and his lips floated in. Once again, she was wrong. Vinny’s kiss didn’t quell the tingles vibrating her skin. It turned them into a cyclone of warm prickles.
The mattress squeaked beneath them, and Sasha flinched. For a second, she was back in that jail cell, pinned under a bulldyke’s grasp.
“Is this okay?” Vinny whispered between tender kisses.
Sasha’s fists unclenched. She hadn’t even realized how tight her fingers were balled until Vinny’s breath rushed over her skin.
“Yeah,” she mumbled. It had to be okay; she needed it to be. Vinny’s hands had always soothed her soul. If she couldn’t handle the most familiar touch in her life, she’d be damaged beyond repair.
Vinny’s lips traveled down her neck, his hand sliding under her shirt. The weight atop Sasha no longer sent a blanket of comfort. It smothered. When his fingertips grazed her nipple, she jolted back.
“Stop,” Sasha yelled, and Vinny’s hands flew off her body.
“I’m sorry, I—”
“It’s not your fault.” Sasha jumped off the bed, pulling her flannel closed. She couldn’t get covered up enough, hold herself tight enough. Vinny looked so let down. He probably wasn’t used to the cold shoulder, not with those dimples. “I can get a girl over here in like five minutes.”
Vinny sat up, scooting to the edge of the bed. “You think that’ll help you?”
“For you, stupid,” Sasha said with a chuckle.
“Shit. I can get my own girl here in five minutes, got lots of numbers at the bar.”
“I bet you did.” She grabbed her smokes from the nightstand, heading for the door.
“Wait!” Vinny hopped to his feet. “I can go slower, softer. I want to help you.”
Although sweet, it was a completely ridiculous thing for Vinny to say. He could never understand. Her sense of worth had been stripped away, and that wasn’t something a person could get back in one night.
“There is no helping me.” Sasha stepped under the harsh glow of motel lights, shutting the door behind her.
Chapter Sixteen
Otis
Otis squirmed in the oversized leather seat within the tin can they called an airplane. It was nice of Sasha to spring for first class. She didn’t know he’d taken cash from her briefcase of blood money to spring for this flight, but it was her fault he was on it so the deed seemed justified. He’d stalled in Kentucky as long as he could. A man only had to tell twenty rednecks it was cool to shoot any city folk they saw once. If he had hugged Tyler goodbye one more time, the kid would’ve gotten suspicious. There were no excuses left. He had to return to the city he’d wiped from his existence, or sit back like a bitch as his friends, his true family, got picked off one by one. He’d rather die than live life as a pussy, which was the reason his ass was planted on this airplane’s cushy seat.
“Another drink, sir?” the stewardess asked, leaning against Otis’s armrest.
He shouldn’t. The tiny drained bottles were starting to pile up, but it’d be rude to say no to a woman who’d spent so much time propping up her cleavage so high.
“Why not?” Otis said, admiring the tightly-fitted outfit the airline put their women in. “Do you know how much longer?”
She cleared away Otis’s stockpile of empties, placing two fresh teases of a bottle on his tray. Her hand landed on his thigh, a coy smile lifting her tanned California-girl cheeks. Everything in this tin can was a fucking tease.
“About two hours, sir.” The woman batted her eyes, then pushed her little cart down the aisle.
Otis cracked the lid on his tiny bottle of Jack Daniels, downing it in one gulp. Two hours, that should give him enough time to get his head on straight before Sasha chewed it off.
***
Sasha
A red-hot cherry sizzled Sasha’s skin, and she dropped her cigarette. That was the second cigarette she let burn to the butt. At this rate, she’d never get the required amount of nicotine into her system.
Sasha slid down the brick wall of the motel until her ass hit concrete. One more try. If she couldn’t get three puffs in before twisty thoughts dragged her into an abyss of self-pity, she’d fucking quit smoking.
She cringed, her shoulders slumping at the thought of quitting her favorite hobby of huffing toxins into her lungs. She thrust the cigarette butt to her lips, taking three quick puffs all at once. It was a bit extreme, but she wasn’t getting fucked out of smoking.
“Hey.” Cash sat on the sidewalk beside Sasha, handing her a big blue book. “I got something for ya.”
“What is it?” Sasha opened the cover, smiling at Tyler’s name spelled out in colorful block letters.
“Pictures. I took pictures of everything.”
He sure fucking did. There were pages of photos. The pictures spanned from when Tyler was a tiny bundle of a baby in a dresser drawer on
the pool table all the way to the little dude she knew in hiker boots and corduroys. Every holiday, every smile, even the bloody scrapes complemented with tears were here for her to see.
“I knew you’d be pissed when you woke up and all this shit happened. I tried to get it all. There was this diaper mishap I wanted to snap, but the stupid camera—”
Sasha threw her arms around Cash’s neck, hugging tight. “Thank you. This is…” A lump lodged in her throat. It seemed to arrive at the same time as her tears, but she choked them both back. “…so awesome.”
The look on Cash’s face when she pulled back, like he was about to cry, pulled a chuckle from her mouth. If only she had a camera right now. That mug of his would be a perfect addition to the book.
A tap shook the window behind Sasha, and she turned to see Vinny waving the phone.
“Gear up, brother.” She patted Cash’s shoulder on her climb off the sidewalk. “We got scores to settle.”
***
Dez
Sounds jumbled, fading in and out. The one Dez heard loudest was a pound. It had to be his brain, since it was synced up with the throb in his temples. People hovered all around him. He couldn’t see them, could barely hear them, but their thick presence clogged the air. It was the feel of danger. A man could sense something like that coming on, especially one who’d spent as much time in prison as he had.
Then he heard that word, the only one strong enough to replenish the energy in his muscles. Sasha. If these fuckers so much as tangled one lock of hair on Sasha’s head, he’d feed them their own intestines. Dead. A man said dead and Sasha in one breath.
Rage warped to strength and set a course through Dez’s veins. When it hit his toes, he jumped to his feet.
“Whoa!” a man yelled, stumbling back.
“Told you he was an animal,” a deep voice rumbled from behind Dez. The boss!
Dez followed that deep tone to a dark smile. He’d never officially met Dante. It was no secret the guy called himself Sasha's father, but the resemblance was uncanny. It'd be impossible to deny Dante's claim, yet Dez refused to accept it. Hands gripped onto Dez from all sides, forcing him back down onto a dusty concrete floor.
“You’re gonna die screaming, motherfucker,” Dez shouted, pushing against the men holding him down while glaring at Dante.
“Ha! Mother fucker,” Dante said, chuckling. “That’s a good one, coming from you.”
Dez thrashed, getting one hand free. A solid hit to the nose on some insignificant douchebag was all he got in before knuckles and heels pounded him to the ground.
***
Sasha
Three black sedans crept along a dirt road. No lights, no brakes, just tires crunching gravel as they drifted to a stop. Sasha would jump from the back seat, sprint into the woods, and burst through the front door of a warehouse she couldn’t even see. She would, if she wasn’t sandwiched between Vinny and Cash.
“You ready for this, Sasha?” Marco asked from the driver’s seat. He knew someone would kill her only living parent tonight. There was no other reason to come to an abandoned warehouse in the middle of the woods, in New Jersey, if not for serious-grade murder.
“That man is nothing to me. You should be more concerned with Tony’s feelings.” Sasha nudged Vinny’s arm and he opened the door, sliding out.
Darkness hung thick under a moonless night. Sasha couldn’t see faces, only the silhouettes of the men gathered in front of the car. Antonio’s was unmistakable and jarring to glimpse. He’d never been on a job before, at least not with her.
Sasha pulled Vinny and Cash back a few steps as they walked toward the crowd. “You see the guy in the center, the big one. Don’t let anything happen to him or I’m fucked.”
The click of bullets loading into chambers echoed over the rustle of leaves as Sasha joined the group of bloodthirsty mobsters.
“Sasha, you and your men take the front. Marco and Ricci take the rear. The rest of us will cover the sides.”
Sasha nodded, and Antonio grabbed her arm before she could slink off.
“I will talk to my brother before he dies. Understand?”
“Well. There goes my plan of kicking down the door and unloading a clip into Dante’s face.”
Antonio narrowed his eyes, his stare as deep as a grave, which she’d be in if she crossed him.
“Yes, sir,” Sasha said, shooing Vinny and Cash down the trail.
***
Otis
Twenty-five years hadn’t been enough. Otis had to pry himself from a taxi and force his foot onto the dirty street. The first few steps weren’t bad, then the stench hit him. That smell reminded him of death, misery, childhood. It fucking sucked.
His boots dragged, kicking up asphalt as he walked across a motel’s parking lot. Sasha was going to burn this city down. She’d probably start with him for letting Dez get taken. He’d probably let her put him down, end this long road of shit called life. Dez was gone because his dumb ass had failed. Tyler was probably scared shitless, locked in a metal bunker, his little stomach ripped open, because he was weak. No more of that shit. Sasha was back now, which meant he had to man up to keep up with her set of balls.
Otis nodded to himself for encouragement. It didn’t do a goddamn thing to boost his moral. Since standing outside Sasha’s door all night like a pussy wasn’t an option, he lifted his hand and knocked.
The door didn’t fly open. Sasha’s scowl wasn’t piercing his eyes. Relief flowed in waves until he realized he’d have to track her down. No way was he stepping foot inside Fat Tonys.
“Fuck all that.” Otis slid down Sasha’s door. Red flakes of chipped paint rained to the sidewalk as he plopped down. Waiting would work for at least an hour, maybe two.
***
Special Agent Philip Daniels
The grease-ball sitting outside his perp’s door might complicate matters. He could call it in, loitering of a suspicious character. Then the director would get wind of his location, send agents to shut him down. They were welcome to try. He was Special Agent Philip Daniels, decorated war hero, the top authority on street thugs like Sasha Ashby.
Not even an enigma like her could fool him. That monster was smart, disguising itself as a girl, but he caught every angle. Her coma was faked. He knew it. Why else would her top man go into that hospital room every day for hours? She was giving orders and laying low. A criminal mastermind. Those two undercover agents who went missing in Little Rock had to be her doing as well, instinct told him so. Sasha Ashby had her thumb on the pulse of all shady business across the map.
He shouldn’t blame her. The Lazzaris and Mancinis had genetically engineered her to be soulless, trained her from birth to be a sociopath. Then again, they all had a sob story. Every piece of trash he swept off the streets cried about their shitty childhoods. My daddy beat me. Mom turned tricks in the living room for drug money. I had no one. She’d be no different when he dragged her ass to the pen.
The memory of slapping cuffs on her boney wrists, twisting her scrawny arms, stirred every part of him. He adjusted his belt, returning his gaze to the window. That scuzzy hillbilly was still camped outside her door. Maybe he’d get lucky. That guy could be there to kill the bitch. Then he could call it a day, go home, and crack open that bottle of scotch like the director had suggested.
Chapter Seventeen
Sasha
Sasha stood beside a dented metal door, battling to keep both her nerve and breaths steady. This place was the warehouse time forgot, grown over by the woods around them. It didn’t look like a lair for a calculated family of mobsters unsuspectedly waiting to be massacred. It looked like a trap.
Vinny leaned against the doorway across from Sasha, and she attached to her gaze to him. She’d hoped to find some sort of signal that would assure her busting through this door was the right thing since Vinny considered himself the smart one, but she only got a shrug. A big fat nothing from the smart guy usually meant trouble, but fuck it. Sasha nodded at Cash, and
he smashed his big boot against the flimsy door.
Metal hinges snapped, echoing through the darkness of the warehouse. As the door crashed to the ground, Sasha charged inside and the click of rifles cocking greeted her. A squeak erupted from beneath her boots as she stopped short, staring into shadows. Vinny collided with her back, and a bright light blinked on. The sudden glare of a floodlight stunned Sasha’s eyes, her fuzzy gaze dropping to the cracked concrete floor.
“Took you long enough, little girl.”
A white blur still clouded Sasha’s sight, but the barrel of her gun veered straight to its target. Dante’s grin filtered in, and her finger twitched against the trigger.
“Drop it!” a man yelled, his voice echoing around the wide-open room.
Sasha tore her glare from Dante. Men inched closer to her on all sides, each holding a cocked rifle and a hard stare. “Eight,” she whispered to Vinny, and two guns clicked behind them.
“Ten,” Vinny said, dropping his gun.
Cash’s piece clanked to the ground next, but Sasha wouldn’t drop her outstretched arm. She couldn’t lower her gun from Dante’s face.
“All right,” Dante said, gesturing to Vinny. “Shoot the skinny one.”
“No!” Sasha tossed her gun at Dante’s feet, standing in front of Vinny.
“And the other piece,” Dante said, pointing at Sasha’s pants.
Sasha pulled a glock from her waistband and dropped it at her feet. Unfortunately, some asshole kicked it away.
“The pockets.” Dante grinned, and Sasha rolled her eyes up to the cobweb lined rafters. No way in Hell was Dante getting the shit in her pockets. A smile spread across her lips and she shrugged, narrowing her eyes.
“Pat her down,” Dante said, and two men gripped Sasha.
The men groped Sasha’s waist and hips, and she hurled an elbow. “Back the fuck off.” The man on her right clutched the back of her neck then slammed her face against a metal table while the other guy pinned her arms down.