by Ws Greer
“Good morning,” he says with a smile, as he turns around and starts to walk towards me. He’s wearing nothing but his boxer briefs, so I get the perfect view of his body and his manhood pressed against his underwear as he approaches.
“Morning,” I reply as he reaches me and leans over to kiss me. The soft touch of his lips on mine is like an espresso, jolting my skin to life. “So, what’s the plan today Don Collazo?”
He flashes a broken smile at the name, but it looks pained, as if he isn’t so fond of being the don of the Giordano family right now. It’s something I’ve never seen in him before, but I can’t say I’m surprised. After what’s gone on these past few days, who would want to be a part of any of it anymore?
“To set everything right,” he replies, still holding on to that pained smile. “All I want to do is make sure everything’s safe across the board. Then we can go from there.”
I know what he means when he says that. Last night, to my surprise, Dominic brought up the idea of getting out of La Cosa Nostra. Now, anyone who knows anything about the mob knows you don’t just “get out” of La Cosa Nostra. That’d be true if you were a small-time guy, but it’s especially true for a boss. If you’re the boss, the only way out is prison or death, and some of them are still very much involved even when they’re in prison. Although Dominic didn’t want to get into the details of how this was even possible last night, he was adamant about it, and apparently still is this morning.
I don’t press the issue right now because I know this is going to be one step at a time. We’re going to have to take baby steps if this is ever going to work, and I’m not so sure that it is, even as I watch Dominic grab his cell phone and place a call to Frankie.
Dominic
“It’s me,” I say into the phone when Frankie answers. “We’ve got some issues that need to be addressed.”
Alannah sits on the bed next to me with a pained look of apprehension on her beautiful face. She’s nervous, but I’m not. I’m going to make this work.
“Okay,” Frankie says first, then, “Where are you, Dominic?”
“I’ve been out and about all night, but a lot has developed and we need to talk. Nobody else needs to know shit, either. This is just for you and me.”
“Okay. What about Tommy?” Frankie asks, and my heart bursts into a frenzy.
I brush it off and move right past the mention of Tommy’s name. “Just you and me, Frankie. I’m gonna call you again in an hour to tell you where to meet me.”
“Okay, Dominic,” Frankie says. “But why all the secrecy? What’s going on? What happened?”
“Make sure you’re alone in an hour.”
I hang up the phone and Alannah is staring at me, wide-eyed.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“You think you can trust Frankie after what happened with Tommy?” she asks, revealing the cause for all of her concern. The thing with Tommy has her all shaken up.
“If I’m being honest,” I begin. “I don’t know if I can trust him or not. After all I’ve been through in my life, I know not to trust anybody in this lifestyle. Tommy proved that.”
“Then why are we involving him? Can’t we just move away?”
“You know we can’t,” I reply, making sure not to sugarcoat anything. She needs to know how real the threat is. “If we run, they’ll find us. The Commission would put a contract on my head as big and bright as the fucking sun, and every gangster in the world would be hunting us down. It just doesn’t work that way in Our Thing. I just got something deep down inside of me that believes Frankie just might be the only loyal guy in this family.”
“But how can you be sure?”
“I never can be, but he knew my dad. They were like brothers, and I think that means something to Frankie. If I’m wrong, so be it.”
“So be it? That’s it? What does that even mean?”
I look into Alannah’s eyes, and I know she knows what it means, but I’ll tell her anyway. She needs to hear it.
“If I’m wrong about him, I’ll have to kill him.”
Alannah’s shoulders slump when she hears the words, but she can’t be surprised, not after all we’ve been through. If we meet with Frankie and he turns out to be against us instead of with us, I wouldn’t have any other choice. Alannah just needed to hear the words so she can prepare herself for having to watch it unfold. Hearing about death is one thing, but seeing it is something completely different.
I see the dread on her face as I walk into the closet and start grabbing clothes, but she follows my lead and gets herself up to take a shower. The uneasiness is still lingering on her face as we finish up and wait for the elevator to reach us.
I stand next to Alannah wearing a white button-up with gray pants, and I can’t help but feel like she’s staring at me as we wait. I look over, and sure enough, her eyes are locked on my face.
“What?” I inquire.
“Are you bringing anything?”
I let out a chuckle as I realize what she’s talking about. “The guns are in the car, babe. Relax, I got this.”
I watch her breathe a sigh of relief as I lead her into the elevator, and it takes us down into the garage where all of our cars are parked. We make our way to my Challenger and hop in.
Time to go to work.
We pull out of the basement garage onto the busy streets of St. Louis, and my brain instantly goes into lookout mode. The tall buildings of the city tower over us and somehow look much more intimidating this morning. My eyes bounce from vehicle to vehicle, surveying the street for anything that looks suspicious. I take a mental note of everything I see so I can double check once we’re further down the road and make sure we’re not being tailed: Cadillac, Denali, Mustang, Civic, Cadillac, BMW, Taurus. I even try to glance inside each one to see if I recognize any of the drivers to be the suspicious faces of mob guys ready to make a move. Alannah is quietly looking around too, but neither of us sees anything that’s a cause for concern.
After about ten minutes on the road, I pull out my cellphone and call Frankie again
“Hello?” Frankie answers after two rings.
“You alone?” I ask before saying anything of importance, just in case.
“Yeah, Dominic. What’s the plan?”
“Meet me in the garage at Isle of Capri in thirty minutes,” I tell Frankie, then I hang up without giving him time to respond.
“Why thirty minutes? We’re only ten minutes away.” Alannah asks, with a furrowed brow.
“I know, but we need to get there before he does, so I can make sure he shows up alone.”
Alannah nods her head in understanding as I veer onto the highway towards Isle of Capri. Every time I think of the Isle, I can’t help but remember what happened the first time I took Alannah there, when a goon walked up to the window and started shooting at us, sending glass shards and bullets flying through the restaurant. He didn’t hit us, but he hit an innocent bystander in his attempt on my life. It was a really bad way for Alannah to start her life in St. Louis, but my crew found the shooter later, and I’m sure he and Tommy are burning side by side in hell.
I hold out hope that we can avoid the same fate at Isle of Capri this time around, as I pull up to a stoplight at the bottom of an exit ramp off the highway. I do another survey of the surrounding cars as my anxiety suspicion up again: Ford Escape, Tahoe, F-150, Denali, Honda Accord, Lexus. I don’t think any of them look familiar, so I relax and press the gas.
We enter the city, and Isle of Capri is only a couple of blocks away. I can even see the sign for the casino two stoplights ahead of us, and I almost feel at ease for the first time during the ride over, as we reach the second-to-last light. I do another survey just in case: Denali, Lincoln Towncar, Explorer, Expedition, Supra. None of them look familiar except one, and I feel my brow furrow as I look at it. Directly behind us is a Red Lincoln Denali. The driver has his sun visor down, obscuring his face, but I can tell he’s a big guy.
Am I being paranoi
d? Did I see a Denali tailing us when we left River City, or did this one just happen to pull up as we came to this stoplight? I don’t know for sure, and I don’t want to alert Alannah for no reason, so I decide not to say anything right now. The light turns green and I drive away, the red Denali still directly behind us. There’s only one light left before we make the turn into the garage at Isle of Capri. Just one more light.
If life were perfect, there’s no way the last light before we reach our destination would turn red. It’d stay green, and Alannah and I would just roll right into the protection of the underground garage. Even if we weren’t protected by the concrete structure, if the Denali followed us underground, then I’d know we were being followed, and I could act accordingly. If we had any luck at all, the stupid light would just stay green for another ten seconds so we could go through it. But there just isn’t enough luck in the world.
The light turns red too early for me to keep going, and I slow the car to a stop. I look in the rearview mirror to check for the Denali, but to my surprise, it’s gone. I even adjust the mirror to try to get a better look of the view behind us, but there aren’t any cars there now.
“What’s the matter? You see something?” I hear Alannah ask with worry coating her words.
“It’s nothing,” I reply with another sigh of relief as I turn to face the front. When I turn my head, out of my peripheral vision, I see red. The Denali is right next to us.
My head snaps over to see who the driver is, and my heart sinks as I recognize him.
His name is Giovanni Cirillo, and he’s here for me.
The bald driver has his head turned in our direction, and all I can do is watch as his hand comes into view holding a pistol. The light just couldn’t have been green for five more seconds.
“Get down!” I scream, as I grab Alannah and pull her down just as the popping begins. Glass shatters and catapults, landing on our backs and heads as I unbuckle Alannah’s seatbelt and push her down into the lowest part of the car. I roll myself up into a ball as I lay on the floor and the bullets buzz by, piercing metal only inches away from and Alannah. It seems like it lasts forever, the deafening blare of gunfire and whizzing bullets mixed with Alannah’s panicked screams.
In the middle of it all, I realize how close the bullets are to hitting her—to hitting our child—and my blood boils with rage. I don’t know who the fuck this bitch thinks he’s shooting at, but he obviously has me confused with some stronzo who would duck and hide while watching the mother of his child being shot to death.
You better remember it forever. I’m Dominic Collazo.
While protecting my head, I reach under my seat and grab my nine millimeter, and I waste no time chambering a round. I lift my hand and start pulling the trigger, completely disregarding aim. As Giovanni stops shooting, I get up to a seated position and start popping off rounds as fast as my finger can possibly pull the trigger. Giovanni responds by stepping on the gas as my bullets pierce his door and shatter his windshield, I hear screeching tires and a roaring engine. My heart hammers in my chest and I can feel my blood surging through my veins.
“Alannah!” I scream after I fire my last round. I pull her up from the floor and start to look her over. “Are you hit? Are you hit?”
“I don’t know,” she responds. “I don’t think so. I don’t know. Oh my god.”
I inspect her body from top to bottom, ignoring the shattered glass on my head and the blood rolling down my arm.
“You’re bleeding!” Alannah screams, reaching for me, but I smack her hand away.
“I have to make sure you’re okay! Both of you!” I snap, totally focused on her and the growing fetus in her belly. Once I see she isn’t hit, I can think clearer. “Okay, now we need to go.”
Ignoring the bullet holes and blood from a wound I can’t see, I reposition myself in the driver’s seat and look to drive away from the scene of the crime, but before I can release the clutch and step on the gas, I see something ahead of us that makes me stop.
“Shit. Get out, now!” I scream as my eyes catche the image of the red Denali speeding towards us.
I hear Alannah screaming, but her body is still moving. She gets out of the car as fast as she can, and I climb out on her side behind her, just as the Denali hits the Challenger head on with a violent crash that sounds like a bomb just went off. Giovanni looks dazed for a second, but quickly shakes it off and searches the street for something—for me. When he relocates me, he wastes no time aiming his gun again.
I’m out of ammo, and my other guns are in the car the Denali has all but crushed. There’s nothing left to do now but try to protect Alannah and the baby. I grab her by the hand and force her to run inside a department store directly behind us as the gunfire starts up again. The glass of the store’s door explodes as we run towards the back. It’s like a warzone all around us as clothes jump and fly off the racks from the jolt of bullets zipping through them and I push Alannah from behind. But before we can reach the back door, I hear one last pop from behind us, followed by a searing pain in my left leg.
I collapse onto the floor, screaming at the top of my lungs as the blood quickly makes its presence known and soaks my pants. I’m hit.
The shooting stops, Giovanni apparently out of bullets for the moment, as Alannah turns around.
“Dominic!” she screams, reaching for the wound in my left hamstring. “No! No, no, no! Oh my god!”
“We gotta go,” is all I say in response, sucking down the pain and forcing myself to stand. Blood oozes out of the wound, and although the pain is unbearable, I turn Alannah around and begin pushing her forward again. I limp along behind her, but I fight through the pain to get Alannah and our unborn child to safety.
We make our way to the back of the store and push out of an exit, which opens up into an alley connected to another road littered with cars. I push Alannah towards them.
“Keep going,” I yell, but she tries to stop so she can focus on my wounds.
“What about your leg? You’ve been shot twice, Dominic, let me help you.”
“No! I’ll deal with it once you’re safe. Now go!” I bark, and she knows I’m not fucking around. She relents and turns on her heel, throwing one of my arms over her shoulder, and helping me run. We’re a team, and there’s no way Alannah would let herself be the damsel in distress. She’s my queen.
We’re in this. Together.
We manage to make it down the alley and onto the street where cars drive past us like we’re not even there, just as I hear the door of the department store being slammed open. Giovanni has a look of pure determination on his face as he scans the alley, looking to finish me off. But he won’t get the chance.
I manage to flag down a cab who stops directly in front of us, and Alannah has to basically push me into it as I lose strength by the second. Blood pours from my leg as Alannah climbs in after me, basically crawling on top of me so she can close the door.
“Hey, that guys bleeding all over my cab!” the driver screams as he turns in his seat to look at me.
“Shut the fuck up and step on the gas!” I yell at the top of my lungs, just as the sound of gunfire starts up again, and the glass next to the cab driver shatters completely.
“Oh shit!” the old, gray-haired man screams as he realizes the danger he’s in and slams his foot on the gas pedal. The tires screech underneath us as the cab speeds away, and the bald hitman finally gives up. I look behind us to see him standing in the spot the cab just vacated, his gun hanging at his side in disappointment.
“What the hell was that?” the old driver screams, his adrenaline obviously heightened from the gunfire.
I ignore him, though. Alannah repositions herself in her seat so she can inspect me, and I can tell from the terrified look on her face that she can now clearly see the wounds in my leg and shoulder. I’m losing a lot of blood, and she has to put pressure on my leg wound to slow the bleeding, because my skin is starting to look paler than usual, and I feel lighth
eaded.
“We have to get you to a hospital,” she tells me, but I shake my head.
“There’s no way we’re going to a hospital. They’d be expecting that.”
“Who the hell was that, Dominic?”
“That was Giovanni Cirillo,” I say, as I feel my eyes start to flutter. “Victor’s hitman. The Commission must’ve given Victor the greenlight to have me whacked. Looks like the war is really on now.”
Dominic
“Room three-twelve. Shit, there it is up there. You gonna be able to make it up the stairs?”
“Don’t got a choice, do I? Let’s go.”
Alannah pays the cab driver and makes her way around to my side of the car. She opens my door for me and helps me to stand up, which is unbelievably difficult with this bullet stuck in the back of my leg, but I manage with her help. I thank the driver again—our third one since all the shooting earlier today—and the two of us head for the dreaded stairs.
We switched cabs because we didn’t want the one that picked us up to be the one that dropped us off, just in case Victor and Giovanni got the idea to start asking cab companies about us. Better safe than sorry. We came to a place that we didn’t think people would expect us to stay, somewhere completely out of the city and with a level of luxury far lower than that of River City or any of the casinos I own. We’re in room three-twelve of King’s Court Motel, some half-decent place on the side of the road as you exit the city heading up towards Wisconsin. After all that has happened, we need to lay low, and going back to any of the places I own would be a death trap, plus I don’t make moves without knowing what’s going on.
While, it’s obviously fair to assume that Victor got permission from the Commission to have me whacked, I don’t know that for sure, and I don’t know why. I could also assume it’s because we owe him money and never paid, but it was Jimmy who started all that and he should’ve been the one to have to pay, so I’d expect the Commission to put a contract on Jimmy before me. But Victor has a lot of pull when it comes to New York, so he could’ve placed the blame anywhere, and the Commission would go along with it. So, I’m in the dark for the time being. The most important thing right now is catching my bearings, getting some rest, and protecting my woman and my baby. After I lock all those things in, then I’ll start to think about my next move. So for now, I just focus on struggling up these fucking stairs.