Animosity

by S. W. Frank

  Nico recognized the sounds. He was on his feet, cocking his gun. Then his taut muscles relaxed when he heard Diane’s laugher.

  “I hit it this time!” she squealed.

  Just that quickly, life might end.

  Nico switched back on the safety and returned the weapon to his leg holster. He shook his head and went toward the cellar, hoping for a distraction to clear his mind of the funk. Target practice in the basement is dangerous with a house full of kids, but hell he wanted in. He needed a distraction from sorrowful things.

  He opened the door, locked it and descended to the cellar with purposefully loud thumps.

  When he reached the bottom, he looked around at the set-up and smirked. There were reinforced walls, ceilings, sandbag targets hung from anchors, and along a sidewall was a table full of every handgun imaginable.

  “Next time lock the door!” Nico advised the couple that stared in his direction. For a moment he wondered if he had interrupted an séance.

  Diane or Chocolate as Lorenzo referred to her apologized. “Crap. That’s my fault. I was the last one down.”

  Lorenzo walked to the table, motioning Chocolate over. “Eh, Thios, you are accustomed to noise. Come; let’s check your speed Chocolate.”

  Nico cocked a curious brow at his nephew. Thios was Greek for Uncle. He liked the sound. If Vin were present, they’d give a dual display of how to shoot shit right. “How long have you been giving her lessons?”

  “A couple of days.”

  When Nico examined the wall targets, the shots were far from the vital organs. They must’ve been fooling around because that was pitiful.

  He crossed his arms, observing as Chocolate and Lorenzo stood side by side facing the table, guns down before Lorenzo slapped the bell.

  Nico moved in closer. Lorenzo hands were swift and accurate as he loaded and reloaded, leaving Chocolate in the dust. He had to give it to the girl, with more practice, she might be good, but she had to loosen up and stop overthinking.

  The bell dinged.

  Chocolate placed her weapon atop the counter. “Dang, I lost again.”

  Nico chuckled. “No, you did well. It takes practice to get that fast. Years and years.” He moved to the table, eyed the piece she used. One, she’d chosen a heavy weapon with too much kickback. Until she became acclimated with the different weights of a piece, she required a gun that was light, conducive to her frame and hand size and then she might do better. He told her that and then he spotted Vincent’s favorite, a Beretta, slid it forward with some mags, emptied it out and hit the starting bell. Before the musical ding resounded, Nico had emptied and reloaded the weapon with every mag with seconds to spare.

  Nico stepped with the loaded weapon to the foot of the landing, focused on a bag hanging near the wall targets and smirked. Chocolate cleared out of the way but Lorenzo walked to where Nico stared and glanced sideways at the hanging bag. He flashed a sly grin, and then shoved the heavy sack and it swung, making flapping sounds. Then he stood next to his woman with a mischievous grin just like his father.

  “Ah, you are my blood!” Nico chuckled.

  The loud whooshing of the sand filled pendulum didn’t deter Nico’s precision. His eyes were trackers, and he raised his hand a fraction. His powerful thighs bulged.

  Nico depressed the trigger and with rapid hand movements and changes to his stance, his body was like a fast car, and his limbs the shifting gears.

  Dust flew from the holes of the bag as Nico emptied the shells. Then Nico relaxed, lowered the gun and received applause.

  Lorenzo approached the target with leisurely swagger.

  The Grecian crossed the floor, held the anchor and scoffed. “Show off, eh Thios?”

  Nico nodded. “That was your father.”

  The mention of Lorenzo’s father sparked interest. “You were close?”

  “Very.”

  Lorenzo ran a hand over the pleather. He tapped the holes. “Overkill, Thios.”

  “I was showing off remember? The shot to the throat and heart were sufficient. But, don’t forget, you can kill a person with a shot at a major artery in the thigh or gut if you gotta shoot from a low point.”

  Lorenzo dislodged the bag, dragged it to a corner where others were piled and fastened on a slender one, grabbed a weapon and slapped in a mag and jogged past Nico.

  Nico snickered. This was going to be good; he thought as Lorenzo did a parkour type jump over the railing and fired multiple rounds at the thinner hanging target. Clouds of smoke fogged the cellar. Lorenzo flipped a switch and the dust particles dissolved into vents.

  Lorenzo pranced past his Uncle with Vincent’s chain swinging out of his shirt. “Was my father that good, Thios?”

  Nico went to examine the holes. The show-off was in motion and he hit every vital organ. The heart, lungs, head, and crotch –well the nuts were important. Whenever Vin was sober, he was a damn good sharpshooter, but he never came close to Lorenzo. No, Nico thought, that’s me, young and old without the fancy flips.

  “Don’t ever get cocky Lorenzo. There’s always a bullet that has your name.”

  Lorenzo shook out the empty mag, put his weapon with the others and laughed. “Do not worry. That was a one-time display to impress the lady.” He winked at Chocolate. “I like when she looks at me as if I’m special.”

  Nico noticed the woman’s adoration. He’d seen it on the faces of many females in bed. A gun wasn’t required; mental and physical stimulation sufficed.

  Lorenzo clucked his tongue as he marched to the table. “Lock up for me when you are done Thios. I have errands to run which may take more than a day to complete.”

  “Are they dangerous?” Nico asked.

  “No. I will return before you leave.” He then chose two weapons, concealed one under the leg of his trouser and the other in his waistband. He kissed Chocolate and then hurriedly ascended the stairs.

  Chocolate attempted to follow, except Nico halted her ascension mid-stair. He needed to uncover more about his nephew’s roommate. There was a lot underneath the surface. That book of hers was a major source of interest and he was eager to uncover why. He’d been around a lot longer than she had and could sense when a half story was being told.

  “Don’t run away. I don’t bite. Come back, your lesson isn’t over.” He stated as he ambled to the weaponry, viewed the Nighthawk, Lady Hawk which was essentially a 1911 with a smaller frame and thinner grip and the Ruger SR9c, the SR9s baby sister. They both had little recoil, and took 9mm ammo, but he chose the Nighthawk, simply because it had an easier slide and Ari loved it.

  When she sauntered to his side and he lifted her small hand and placed the Nighthawk in her palm. “Get accustomed to the feel. I taught my wife how to shoot with this piece. Your boyfriend’s an excellent shot but he’s one lousy fucking teacher.”

  Chocolate swallowed. Lo’s Uncle oozed intensity. Those dark eyes and stature were frightening, but there was something in his demeanor that she trusted. Somehow she had the feeling he was a veteran badass. Therefore, she listened to her gut and followed his instructions to the letter.

  In less than two hours, she had made consistent strides.

  Nico learned something about Chocolate. The girl wasn’t afraid of hard work. She was coachable and didn’t complain when he yelled at her to grip the gun as if she meant fucking business.

  She peered at the target and when she squeezed and repeated, the bull’s eye mark had her signature.

  Well, I’ll be damned, he mused. Chocolate was a natural born markswoman.

  He removed the gun from her hand. “I’m usually not a nosy person, but seeing how much my nephew likes you, I think it’s important you answer my questions.” He had switched from nice to ice faster than she could blink. “For starters, never lie to me.” He peered at the gun; absolutely certain several bullets remained in the magazine. When he looked at Chocolate, he had a murderous glare. “What’s in that book that a politician would kill for? Remember, I’m not Lorenzo
which means to me you’re expendable.”

  She spilled her guts.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  The chartered jet carrying a lone passenger skidded to a halt on the private runway in the afternoon.

  Money buys privacy.

  Lorenzo needed anonymity; therefore, he traveled under an assumed name on a client’s luxury aircraft.

  There’s a trade-off for the favor and its armaments.

  By the looks of the asphalt, dew on the surrounding foliage, it had rained prior to his arrival in New York.

  Lorenzo’s Mama would tell him they were tears from heaven. He'd press his face to the windowpane, wishing the tears would cease in order to play outside.

  The heavens must have suspected his motive to end the tears of a young woman that had cried for too long.

  Diane Carroll is a pretty name. However, he loved the sound of Chocolate more. The word denoted sweetness, a treat for the heart when an emotional ache will not cease. His Mama would give him a block of the dark cocoa to soothe his irritability. Perhaps, that was what he desired for Chocolate, peace and that they have a fresh start.

  Thus, his gift to her was a loathsome man’s death.

  A car waited near the hangar, keys in the ignition and a navigation system. This visit wouldn’t take long, an hour tops he had told the pilot.

  He entered the car, checked his phone and read distressing texts from Chocolate. They were about his Thios Nico.

  The man intimidated people. That persona was real for anyone who angered a killer of his caliber. However, aside from the myths, Lorenzo did not observe a legendary heartless person spoken about within secret circles. In his interaction with Nicolo Serano, he found a man with an assassin’s troubles.

  To be the protector of so many must wear on the man.

  He loved his family. In his eyes lie the truths.

  Heartless people love nothing.

  To put Chocolate at ease, he contacted her.

  The call connected. The voice however, was not a woman.

  “Ciao. What took you so long in returning your girl’s message nipote?”

  “Thios? Nico?”

  “Why are you in New York?”

  “How did you –never mind,” Lorenzo scoffed. Old school access. Nico was the techie, and from what he’d listened to from his sons, they were worse. He only hoped they did not hack into his money. “You did not kill my friend, did you?”

  “Now why would I do that?”

  “I am glad.”

  “Answer the question.”

  “Business.”

  Lorenzo drove, utilizing the hands free feature.

  “That has now become my business when you’re on soil with Alfonzo.”

  Ah, the killer did possess a heart. “He is blood, ne?”

  “Blood doesn’t guarantee loyalty.”

  “There are many kinds of loyalty.”

  “Do not fuck with me Lorenzo.”

  “You overcompensate for your transgression. I do not intend to harm Don Alfonzo. I am here on another matter.”

  “Let’s set ground rules cazzo. Give me a heads up on a job. That’s how we avoid possible conflicts of interest.”

  “Nico. I am not your son.”

  “True but you are my nephew and whether you like it or not, I’m in your life until I croak, or who knows, you might go first.”

  “There is that reality.”

  “If you’re doing what I think you are today, I removed the surveillance camera on Stanley Avenue and the one on Briarcliff Road. Clip him when he passes the brick and not the fucking window.”

  “I see you are a control freak as well.”

  “Get the job done and then when you’re sailing, call your girlfriend.”

  “And now you are a cock blocker, too.”

  “When it comes to focus, cut out the booze and women. They’re distractions and as men we lose concentration.”

  “This is experience speaking?”

  “Damn straight. I have a lot to teach you so you won’t make my mistakes.”

  Lorenzo chuckled, following the directional as he multi-tasked. “You can smother a person with this love you have.”

  “Good. I want you to be better than me.”

  “That is impossible. You are a legend that I respect. But you must not scare Chocolate; she has had a rough life.”

  “We all have. Maybe, it’s time for her to toughen up if she’s going to last in our family.”

  “Our family?”

  “Yeah, now go to work, get off the phone and don’t get overconfident.”

  “I am not Vincenzo. Do not worry.”

  Lorenzo disconnected, shaking his head in exasperation.

  He took Nico’s advice and focused on the job.

  The location where he parked led to Briarcliff Shopping Center. There was a handful of deli’s and diners on the main service road leading to the busy area. The trees were camouflage, and the camera Nico alluded to was directly overhead.

  Lorenzo exited the car with a briefcase. He wore dark shades. On the plane, he had donned professional attire. The collar shirt concealed his tattoos and a plain hat hid his hair.

  There was a building facing the shopping center, which held medical offices. Noticeably absent, was security.

  The location was perfect.

  He entered the lobby, absorbed the plain interior with an elevator and directory on the far wall. To the left was a door leading to the stairwell, which he used, to access the roof.

  He hurried to the edge, lay flat on his belly and opened the briefcase.

  Beneath the clouds, he attached the scope to the rifle, set up the pod, put his eye to the scope and set his sight on the coffee shop.

  His breaths were relaxed, his finger on the trigger, his ears tuned to the wind.

  Lorenzo’s attention went to the man emerging from the car. Looking around was his security detail, yet they never looked up or considered they protected a rapist. The pot-bellied horny bastard in a yarmulke had also lied to the public about his heritage.

  His entire existence was a façade. He was under investigation for fraud, illegal campaign contributions and more. The audacity of the Mayor to blame someone deceased for his many crimes.

  Lorenzo sneered.

  The Mayor entered the establishment. He wanted the corrupt civil servant to exit with his cup. He wanted the pleasure of observing his expression when a bullet went in his gut.

  Lorenzo heard Nico in his head warning not to be brash.

  His Papa Vin must have been very arrogant.

  The minutes ticked.

  Lorenzo hadn’t moved, but the ant on his arm had.

  The traffic in the vicinity increased. The shoppers had begun to flock to the mini-malls. In Greece people walked and took in nature while stopping to engage with their neighbors.

  Finally, Hizzoner exited with the pretentious public smile and his designer coffee.

  Affable.

  That was the consensus of the media. They failed to mention integrity.

  The dishonorable Mayor’s silhouette framed the brick.

  He lifted his cup for a drink.

  Lorenzo squeezed.

  The bullet struck the target’s penis.

  The Mayor’s cup dropped.

  Then the shock registered.

  He wished he could take a picture for Chocolate.

  Blood spurt from the leader of the city's people. The person that enforced the law was forced to piss hypocrisy.

  The Mayor’s security detail ducked in the act of self-preservation. There was a lag in their response, but eventually, they fulfilled their contract.

  Before the Mayor received aid, Lorenzo depressed the trigger again. Then the clouds shifted, and the sun reflected off of metal. The bullet struck his target, ripped through the throat and he died like a pig.

  In the scope, he watched the Mayor topple, taking satisfaction in murder.

  Lorenzo rapidly disassembled the weapon, returned it to the case a
nd hurried down the stairs.

  He heard the chopper. The whirring noises were the ideal sound effects for a samurai rapidly twirling his nodachi in an open field. The noise grew louder.

  One shot to a vital organ would have killed the Mayor instantly. However, Lorenzo had taken two.

  Lorenzo recalled Vin’s visit when they played cops and robbers. The train robber fell from the roof of the train to the track and Lorenzo had said the bad man is dead. Vin in turn replied, “A bad person dies by the sins he has lived.”

  As the pandemonium ensued, he hurried to the street. A woman sat in a car at the rear of his loaner. She was too preoccupied with applying lipstick to notice him casually slip in his car, slowly pulled out and then merge with other cars. He entered ramp to the expressway, putting distance from the incident without attracting attention by speeding.

  Then he heard the sirens.

  Squad cars flew in an easterly direction.

  Lorenzo traveled west.

  The arrogance fled when he observed flashing lights speeding forward in the rearview mirror. They careened to a halt on opposite sides of the roadway. They appeared to be ready for serious trouble when they walked to the rear of the vehicles, hand on the side of their weapons waving traffic to an even slower pace as they peered in cars. However, Lorenzo was through the bottleneck before the patrol persons implemented the stop and search.

  The city’s emergency response was impressive. He had underestimated American law enforcement. In the rearview mirror, he observed more police arriving and he exited to take the local route to the airport.

  The chopper noise increased as it flew in a wide circle over the crime scene.

  Lorenzo frowned.

  An unease sent Lorenzo’s eyes to the side view mirror. A police car traveled above the speed limit, gaining on him. He sighed. In the opposing seat was the weapon. If they pulled him over, the police would find the evidence.

  A gloved hand touched the lock and without taking his eyes off the road, clicked the mechanism open. The likelihood of him making it back to Greece looked dismal.

  He took the phone out of the case, put it on his lap and turned on the device.

  The squad car was closing the gap.

  “Call Chocolate,” he instructed his smartphone.

  It listened.