She licked him again.
He walked back to the garage. Everyone but Namid and Tooth was sitting around the metal table, talking.
“Tell Tooth to come down from the roof,” Dom said.
Moose ran up to get him from guard duty. Then they all sat and waited for Dom to throw out a compelling strategy to stop the flames from spreading across the city.
The port had started a chain reaction, and with every hour that passed, tensions between the Saints intensified.
The question now was how to move the team forward—or perhaps, whether to call it quits before they were all killed.
“The turf war is down to the Morettis and the Vegas,” Dom said. “I called you all here to talk about the coming battles. Whoever wins this war is going after the water supply and energy grid. Our job is to keep that from happening—at all costs.”
“There are six thousand cops in this city, and three thousand deputies guarding the borders,” Camilla said. “They can’t all be okay with the Morettis gunning down Best’s men. Or taking over the utilities.”
“Chief Stone doesn’t give a shit as long as he keeps getting paid,” Pork Chop said.
Bettis concurred. “And we all know Cowboy Dale Benson. Guy is all about the walls, not what’s within the walls.”
“Never did like that guy,” Tooth said. “Your father wasn’t a fan, either.”
Dom thought of his father. What would he think now? Would he encourage Dom to keep fighting? Even double down?
“There are some good cops out there,” Moose said, “but right now isn’t the time to try and find them. “We can’t trust anyone. Sorry to say it, but I think we’re on our own.”
“We’ve always been on our own, in case nobody noticed,” Rocky said.
“Truth,” said Tooth.
“There’s no one we can go to?” Camilla asked.
Dom wasn’t sure which of their contacts he could still trust, and he didn’t want to put anyone at risk, especially after Abdul was killed.
Moose was right. They couldn’t trust anyone.
Dom decided that the best thing to do was just to tell his team about the call with Lieutenant Marks. Then take them to an event downtown that was supposed to remind everyone what they were fighting to save.
“There’s something else I need to tell you guys,” Dom said.
The Saints all looked at him, waiting—even Cayenne, who let out a low whine.
“Lieutenant Marks threatened to cut off our support,” Dom said.
“What?” Tooth said, running a hand over his slicked-back ginger hair.
Camilla stopped chewing on her bubble gum.
Moose took his palms off the table. “He wants to shut us down?”
“Cops are dead,” Dom said coldly. “Marks told us to stand down at the port for a reason, and I disobeyed a direct order. This is my fault. I take full responsibility.”
“Fuck that noise,” Rocky said. “We took out a huge shipment of drugs and stole an entire shipment of RX-Four. Too bad about Best and his boys, but if you ask me, he got what he deserved.”
Judging by looks, not everyone seemed to agree. Bettis mumbled something about Abdul as he pulled back his ponytail, and Tooth grunted in agreement.
“Not all those cops deserved what the Morettis did to ’em,” Moose said. “I have a few friends still on the force that skim off the top, but only to feed their families.”
“Like your bro?” Tooth said.
Moose sat up straighter in his chair and glared at Tooth. “Ray ain’t like that.”
“Yeah?” Tooth asked, also sitting up. “That’s funny, because—”
“Enough,” Dom said in a voice just shy of a shout. He had to break the tension before it exploded out of control.
Camilla blew a bubble, the pop drawing attention.
“If we start to fall apart now, we lose everything we’ve fought for,” Dom said. “And that’s not going to happen, right, Andre?”
Moose finally looked away from Tooth and relaxed in his chair. “Right, boss,” he said.
“Good, because we have some good news.” Dom looked at each Saint in turn. “The Morettis don’t know who we are or where we are, and they haven’t made any moves since West Hollywood and the Nevsky attack.”
“Whatever drugs and RX-Four they were selling on the streets has got to be drying up, which means there will be another one coming into the port soon,” Camilla said.
“And that’s exactly why Sammy is so important, and why we need to get him back to work,” Dom said.
“The fate of the Saints rests in the hands of a young punk with acne,” Tooth said, leaning back in his chair.
“He’s our golden ticket,” Dom said.
“You got to be kiddin’ me,” Rocky said. “We can’t let him go back to the port. What’s stopping him from selling us out, or the Morettis from killing him?”
Dom knew that the only way his team would understand was by talking to the kid, just as he had multiple times.
“Put on your masks,” Dom said. “I’m bringing him out.”
When he entered the garage, the other Saints all scrutinized the kid as they would a murder suspect.
“Go ahead,” Dom said. “Tell ’em what you told me.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed as he looked at the team.
“Believe it or not, I want what you all want,” Sammy finally said. “I want to see the Morettis burned out of this city.”
“Sure you do,” Rocky said. “That’s why you work for ’em, right?”
Dom held up his hand and nodded at Sammy. “Tell them how it works at the port.”
“There’s just five of us that work on shipments for the Morettis. I do most of the foreign stuff like cars and those fancy suits they like. Before you guys blew the shit out of the Goomah, I was working on a new shipment with Vinny Moretti.”
“What the hell?” Tooth said, leaning forward over the table. “How come we didn’t know this?”
“How the fuck are you still alive?” Camilla asked.
Sammy shrugged. “Like I said, there are a few of us that work with the Morettis. Jason and his supervisor, Lenny, worked on the drugs. They specialized in that shit, and this isn’t the first time one of the shipments was hit.”
“What’s stopping Vinny from whacking Sammy?” Moose asked.
“The other guys Sammy told me about are still alive,” Dom said. “His story checks out. They only went after Jason and Lenny.”
Tooth scowled. “I don’t like it, man.”
“You got any other ideas on how to bring down Antonio Moretti?” Dom asked.
The room went silent.
Camilla looked at her nails. Moose twisted one of his antler dreads. No one said a word—not even Rocky, who normally wouldn’t shut his trap.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Dom said.
Sammy cleared his throat. “Look, I know you guys don’t trust me, and I’m not just saying this to get out of here, but I really do want to help.”
“Why should we believe you?” Rocky asked.
“Because of what happened to my brother,” Sammy said. His eyes flitted to his tattered tennis shoes. “My older brother was a cop. He helped raise me when my dad died. The Morettis gunned him down.”
Dom nodded. “It’s true.”
“Let me get this straight,” Camilla said. “You have been working with Vinny Moretti even though his family shot your brother dead?”
“What else am I supposed to do? I’m all my mom has left, and I pay the bills.”
Over the past few days, Dom had spent some time talking to their CI and getting to know him more. He was basically a good kid wrapped up in some bad shit, like many of LA’s youth. The fact that he worked his ass off to take care of his mom told Dom they could trust him. He just hoped he could protect Sammy—not only because they needed him, but because he was the type of person they were fighting to keep alive.
“All right,” Dom said, “I’ve made my decisi
on. We’re taking Sammy back to the city so he can go back to work at the port. We’ll take turns watching him. Get a blindfold on him.”
“Watching me?” Sammy asked.
Tooth pulled out his Glock and set it on the table. “That’s right,” he said. “Everywhere you go.”
“Step out for a minute,” Dom said.
The kid opened the door, then stopped. “You swear on your team you got my back if the Morettis do come after me?”
Dom put a hand on his shoulder. “We’ve got your back, I swear, but don’t fuck us.” He squeezed his shoulder harder. “And don’t mistake me for a cop. I’m not like the others.”
Sammy returned to his cell, and Dom turned back to his team. “I know you don’t like this, and it’s not an ideal plan. But like I said, we don’t have many options.”
“If this is what you think we should do, then I’m with you,” Bettis said.
“Me too,” Moose said.
Tooth, Pork Chop, Rocky, and Camilla all nodded. But he could easily read their uneasy looks—they were staring down a gun barrel, unsure whether it had a round chambered.
Dom remembered the call with Marks, and his threat to shut the Saints down for good. As much as Dom didn’t want to admit it, he knew they couldn’t go around blowing stuff up and killing Morettis in the street. They had to be surgical, as in the past.
He had been playing Russian roulette, and sooner or later a round would come hurtling down that barrel. Another reason they all needed a break from the violence, and a reminder of what they were fighting to save.
Going downtown might be dangerous, but it was necessary.
“All right, people, let’s get going,” he said. “There’s an event I want you to attend. And not just any event—this is about the very future of Los Angeles.”
* * *
The Saints walked down the concrete path in MacArthur Park. Palm trees swayed in the wind around the edges of the dried-up lake bed. Westlake Theatre and the skyscrapers beyond huddled under a sky the color of lava.
“Never thought I would see so many people here again,” Dom said.
“I remember playing here as a kid,” Rocky said. “My mom got pissed when I swam out to the middle.”
“Not surprising, with all the No Swimming signs,” Camilla said.
Rocky shrugged a muscular shoulder. “You know how I roll.” He raised his fists like a boxer preparing to fight.
“Someday, you and Dom should spar,” Camilla said.
“I’ve been waiting for an invitation, boss,” Rocky replied. “Rumor has it you were quite the MMA fighter in high school.”
Dom was a humble guy and never bragged about his skills, so Camilla thought it only fair to brag for him.
“He was ten and oh in the cage, with three KOs,” she said. “I saw one of them, but it was his days fighting at the Vega matches that he really showed his skills.”
“Vega matches?” Rocky asked. He lowered his shades. “Damn, bo-oy-y-y.”
Camilla smiled. “Did you know we were also Spanish partners in high school?”
“She tried her best to teach me,” Dom said. “But back then I kept getting distracted by those dimples.”
“Ha! ‘Back then,’ ” Moose laughed.
Camilla pulled the baseball cap down to hide her blushing cheeks and moved ahead on the path, leading the team.
Coming out here today was perhaps the best thing for the team. Dom was right. They needed to feel like normal people for once.
They were dressed like everyday civilians—even Bettis, who wore a Hawaiian shirt and black shades. But it was Moose who had gotten the most jokes for his black button-down shirt with pink flamingos, and his red sunglasses.
Tooth continued to poke fun at Bettis and Moose.
“You look like a fat, gay reindeer,” Tooth said. “And, Bettis, dude, chaplains and priests really shouldn’t wear shades around kids—no one knows what you’re looking at.”
Bettis sighed. “What did I say about those types of jokes?”
Dom didn’t laugh at the second joke, either. He had grown up Catholic, like Camilla, and neither of them liked to hear jesting about the Church’s dark past.
“Have you no honor?” Bettis asked Tooth.
Tooth shrugged, and Rocky poked him in his gel-spiked hair, laughing.
“It’s Tooth—what do you expect?” Rocky said.
Tooth swiped Rocky’s hand away “Don’t touch the hair, kid.”
“Hey, there’s Namid,” Pork Chop said.
Namid ran to catch up. “Sorry I’m late,” he said. “My wife wasn’t feeling so good.”
Pork Chop pulled his trucker hat up and wiped his forehead. “She okay, man?”
“Yeah, she’s good,” Namid said. He nodded at Dom, and Dom took Camilla’s place at the head of the group.
Tonight, he didn’t appear to be as jittery or on edge as usual. Camilla was feeling good herself, despite all the violent chaos.
The crew was all together, and if she put aside the past week of violence, it almost seemed as if they were just out to enjoy a night in the park.
Across the empty lake, hundreds had gathered. Many of these people had benefited from the Saints’ work and the resources they had delivered over the years.
But today they were here for the most important resource.
People clustered around a podium set up along the edge of the lake bed. From under the podium, two six-inch-diameter pipes extended over the dry concrete bowl.
“Here we go,” Dom said as they approached.
Councilman Tom Castle wheeled his chair out onto the platform, next to the podium where Mayor Buren stood in the center of the Los Angeles City Council.
Camilla had met Castle only once, but she knew how much Dom respected him. She had heard the story of the day the AMP soldiers ambushed his father’s platoon outside Phoenix, leaving Castle paralyzed for the rest of his life. Now he was running for mayor against Buren, and she prayed Castle won.
He had proved himself to be a valuable ally over the years, helping the Saints arrange safe houses, arming them with better weapons, and supporting them in their under-the-radar fight against the crime families.
“Good evening, everyone,” Buren boomed. “Welcome to MacArthur Park. I’ve had the great honor of overseeing a new program that will benefit everyone living in the City of Angeles, including the refugees waiting for permanent housing.”
Dom pulled his hands out of his pocket but didn’t clap. “This is bullshit,” he said. “Councilman Castle has been the one overseeing the programs.”
Buren waited for the applause to die down. “With the addition of two more desalination plants, we finally have enough water to provide for everyone in the city, including our refugee friends,” he said. “No more rationing. You can have as much as you want.”
The crowd cheered. Parents lifted their children onto their shoulders to see the councilman. Everyone wanted a look at one of the only people trying to save Los Angeles. A man who everyone knew wasn’t in bed with the crime families.
“We are also working on adding more solar panels to our power grid,” Buren said. “If all goes to plan, in the near future we will be able to power all four zones of the city with renewable energy, regardless of dust storms.”
More cheers and shouts.
“These have been dark times for our country and for our city, but the future is looking brighter every day,” the mayor continued. “I’d like to thank the council members with me for helping me achieve some of these goals.”
Camilla clapped along with the rest of the Saints. What happened next caught her off guard. The mayor reached into his suit jacket and pulled out a handgun. Then he pointed it into the air and pulled the trigger.
The report didn’t seem to bother anyone. They all were used to gunfire in this city.
As the shot echoed, a gurgling sounded.
Then came the water, gushing out of the pipes under the platform and pooling in the dry lake bed.
The crowd of civilians roared.
Police officers standing guard at the edges moved to stop people from running down the sides, but Buren put a stop to that.
“Let the kids play,” he said into the mike.
The officers backed away, and children ran down the sides of the lake. Parents followed the smaller kids and carried them over to the spreading clear water.
Most people were smiling ear to ear, but not Dom.
“He just won the next election,” he said. “Castle won’t stand a chance now, even though he’s done way more than Buren.”
Shouts and laughter came from the lake that was now filling for the first time in years. Children stomped in the water and splashed one another, squealing with joy.
Something about the sight filled Camilla with hope that they could still turn things around here, that they could save the City of Angels. But she wasn’t sure how anymore.
Castle wheeled to the side to make way for Chief Stone, in his dress blues. And they weren’t the only ones who had come dressed up tonight. Across the lake bed, standing outside black Range Rovers, a group of men wearing suits and shades had gathered. The passenger window rolled down, and Camilla squinted to make out who was sitting in the back seat, wearing sunglasses.
Her guts tightened when she realized it was Antonio Moretti.
The bastard had helped finance these projects, and Buren and Stone had worked with him, ignoring the poison he put on the streets, the people he tortured and killed, and the families he ruined.
Families like Dom’s.
She squeezed his hand and jerked her chin.
“Look,” she said.
Dom started to move, but Moose held him back. “Not here,” he said.
Dom clenched his jaw, his eyes pinned on the man responsible for selling his sister and countless other people to the Shepherds in Vegas.
Normally, they would all be carrying heavy weapons, but tonight they were dressed like tourists and weren’t even wearing their masks. The only guns they had were concealed pistols.
There wasn’t time to shoot the bastards anyway. The Range Rovers sped off toward the safety of the Moretti compound.
“They’re getting away,” Rocky said.
“What do you want to do, boss?” Moose asked.
Sons of War 3: Sinners Page 26