by B. B. Hamel
“Yes, same to you,” Maksim said.
They gripped each other’s hand and shook.
I stared at them and realized that I was bearing witness to a ritual that few people ever got to see. It was a real blood oath, the sort of thing playground kids pretended to believe in, except these were two dangerous, grown men.
Vince caught my eye and nodded once as he returned the bloody knife to his father’s desk.
Don Leone dropped Maksim’s hand and took a handkerchief from his pocket. He gave it to Maksim, who wrapped it around his hand, then walked to his desk and pulled some tissues from a drawer.
“I’ll have Roberto bring bandages,” Don Leone said. “But first, we have to come to a decision.”
“On what?” Maksim asked.
“On the Jalisco,” Don Leone said.
“I know what we have to do,” Vince said, lingering over near the window again.
“What’s that, young ally?” Maksim asked with a little smirk.
Vince stared at him. “Shock and awe,” he said.
I sat up straight and my eyes went wide with excitement. I felt my pulse pick up in my chest as I realized that Vince was taking my advice.
“Shock and awe,” Maksim repeated. “Is this American thing?” He looked at Don Leone. “Is this make sense to you?”
“I want to kill as many of them as we can in a short period,” Vince said. “Tonight, I think would be best. We take the combined strength of our crews, roll on every known Jalisco hangout, and kill everyone. Slaughter them, make them know they can’t operate in our city anymore, make sure they never recover from it.”
“He means this?” Maksim asked and stared at Don Leone. “He really thinks this is good idea?”
Don Leone stared at his son and nobody spoke. The silence quilted the room and I leaned forward, my hands on my knees, my heart racing.
“He means it,” Don Leone said. “And he’s right.”
“What?” Maksim asked. “This absurd. Jalisco good business partner, bring many drugs into country, good for everyone.”
“The Gulf will step up,” Vince said. “I’ve already contacted them, and Ambrose is back in New York, making sure they’re going to follow through. But first, we have to clear the Jalisco out.”
“There will be some delays in product,” Don Leone said. “We’ll have to weather that.”
“You both mean this,” Maksim said, shaking his head. “We make oath and now you want war. This not what we discussed.”
“You’re in this now,” Vince said. “Whether you want to be or not. You made this deal, and the Jalisco will hear about it. We can squeeze them out, make it slow, but they’ll come at us sooner or later. They won’t sit back and wait.”
“Yes, but that does not mean we have to attack now,” Maksim said.
“My son is right,” Don Leone said. “The Jalisco have proven themselves to be untrustworthy. If we allow this to stand, others might begin to believe we’re weak. We have to hit them and hit them hard, end the war tonight if we can.”
Maksim gestured with his hands like he was pleading for something then dropped them and shook his head.
“Madness,” he said.
“Already refusing to work with us?” Vince asked.
“Nyet, Vincent, nyet,” Maksim said. “I’ll come and I’ll kill Jalisco. Do not concern yourself with my men. We have been blooded, born into killing, and we will come and kill again.”
“Good,” Don Leone said. “Very good. Go call your men together, Maksim, and I’ll call mine. We’ll gather here in the great hall and put together a plan.”
“It has to be tonight,” Vince said. “If we wait, they’ll have too much time to plan.”
“Tonight,” Don Leone agreed.
“Tonight then,” Maksim said. “We go hunting tonight.”
The Russian turned and strode to the door. Don Leone followed him, and the two older men spoke in low tones as they left, not even sparing a glance in my direction.
Once the door shut, I heard Vince let out a grunt.
“Fuck,” he said.
“Are you okay?” I stood and walked across the room. There were blood droplet stains on the rug where Don Leone and Maksim had cut themselves.
“I’m okay,” he said. “I just didn’t think that would work. I didn’t think Maksim would agree.”
“But he did,” I said, stopping just in front of him. I reached up and touched his chest with my palms. “This is the right move, isn’t it?”
“I think so,” he said and a deadly little smile came to his lips. “When did you get so goddamn bloodthirsty, little journalist?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I think you’re having a bad influence on me.”
He leaned down and brushed a thumb along my lips, sending chills along my skin. “Good,” he said, and kissed me.
I kissed him back. I put myself into that kiss, his tongue, his lips, his muscular body. I threw myself into it and moaned as he pulled me tight against him. I wanted to forget the explosion, the fear I felt, the horror, the anger.
But most of all, I wanted to feel the thrill of knowing that he listened to me.
We broke off the kiss and I stared into his eyes. I touched his cheek, felt the stubble there, ran my fingers down it. He caught my hand and held it against his face, leaned into my fingers, then kissed my tips.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go get ready.”
“For what?”
“For whatever comes.” He hesitated, squeezed my hand. “I might not see tomorrow. If I don’t—”
“Stop,” I whispered. “Don’t.”
“If I don’t, I want you to know something,” he said, rushing his words out. “I want you to know that I haven’t felt this way about a woman before. I’ve never wanted someone like I want you.”
“I feel the same way,” I said.
“Good.” He kissed me again, released me. “Now, come on. We’ll have a little privacy until everyone gets here.”
“What should we do with our time?” I asked.
He smirked, slapped my ass, and led me to the door.
24
Vince
I sat behind the wheel of a borrowed black sedan, my Glock in my lap. Dante sat in the passenger seat, staring straight ahead, and Mona was in the back.
I should’ve left her at my father’s place, but she insisted on coming. And we’d been through so much already that I just couldn’t leave her behind.
Besides, this was as much for her as it was for me.
“You ready for this?” I said, my voice soft.
“I’m ready,” Dante said, turning his gaze toward me. “I’m always ready.”
I snorted. “You didn’t seem ready before.”
“You don’t get it, do you?”
I shook my head and leaned forward in my seat, trying to get comfortable.
“I get that I’ve been away,” I said. “But it doesn’t change the fact that one of your own got attacked.”
“We worked hard to set shit up with the Jalisco,” Dante said. “Then you come rolling back into town and start talking about starting a war. We didn’t want to go down that road, not yet at least.”
“I get it,” I said. “Hang me out to dry.”
Dante opened his mouth then shut it again. He let out a breath, wiped at his face.
“All right,” he said. “Look, I fucked up, okay? I never should have pushed back. You’re right.”
I looked at him, trying to suppress my surprise. “Big of you to say now,” I said. “Right before we go hunting.”
“It’s the fucking truth,” Dante said. “I didn’t want to get tangled up in this shit. We just got over our own war, just finished beating up on the Russians. I lost Gino, you know that?”
“I know,” I said. “And I’m sorry about him. I really am.”
“Yeah, well. That’s why I hesitated. It was stupid and selfish, but here we are.”
I watched Dante for a second, trying to r
ead his face, and just shook my head, turning my gaze back to the street in front of us.
“We’ll put it behind us,” I said.
“Good.” He slipped his own Glock from his shoulder holster and checked the magazine. “It’s almost time.”
I nodded and looked down the block. A house sat in the shadows of a broken street light, bathed in darkness. It was just after midnight on a quiet residential neighborhood in North Philly. Half the houses were boarded up and rubble and trash were strewn about the sidewalks. It was one of the worst neighborhoods in the whole city, the section of the city that the world had forgotten about.
And it was where the Jalisco set up their main headquarters.
They thought it was a secret, or at least that was the idea. Set up shop in a place where we’d never find them. But secrets don’t stay secrets for long, and a local gang, just a group of teenage kids that steal cellphones and hack people’s laptops to steal their Twitter accounts, saw a bunch of Hispanic guys rolling around this area. Didn’t take us long to find out which house they were coming and going from and to make the connection.
All across the city, crews were set up and ready. The Jalisco had their fingers all over the place, in businesses and in houses, little rat nests of the bastards. We were going to flush out as many as we could, kill everyone we found, and steal everything we could get our hands on. The idea was to hit them hard, hit them fast, and let them know that the city wasn’t safe for them anymore.
I looked into the back seat. Mona sat up straight, tugging at her long, dark hair. I nodded at her and she managed a little smile that barely touched her eyes, like she wasn’t sure if she was happy or about to scream.
“It’ll be fine,” I said. “You’re going to hear some stuff. Just keep your head down and wait for us to come back.”
“Okay,” she said.
“Keep the engine running,” I said. “We’ll probably need it.”
“Right, I can do that.” She stopped playing with her hair. “You’ll be careful, right?”
“As careful as I can be,” I said.
“It’s time,” Dante said.
She took a sharp breath. I nodded to her, let my gaze linger on her eyes, then stepped out of the car. Dante got out the other side, and together we walked down the block.
Three guys came toward us. They were Dante’s boys, Ryan, Chad, and Cosimo. They looked like solid fighters, the sort of guys I wanted at my back. The target house was silent, the lights all out, and nothing moved in the neighborhood.
It was the kind of place that knew the sound of gunshots, and knew how to keep their mouths shut.
The young guy, Ryan, reached the door first. He gestured at the door with his gun then pressed the barrel just above the knob. He pulled the trigger twice, two loud cracks in the night, then stepped back as I slammed the heel of my boot into the door right where he shot.
The door burst open in a spray of wood. Chad and Cosimo went in first, followed by Dante. I went in next, and Ryan stuck by the door, watching our backs.
We rushed into a dark entryway. There was a set of stairs, pitch black, to the left. Ahead was another larger room, but the whole place was dark.
“Fucking lights,” Dante said.
I found a switch and hit them.
We stood on a hardwood floor, scratched and dented and faded. The wallpaper was yellowed and curling in spots, and the place smelled like smoke. I heard something up ahead, a noise, a grunt.
“Down!” I yelled.
Dante and the others dropped just as gunshots burst out from the room ahead. It was deafening, and I clenched my jaw. I returned fire, rolling to the side until I reached the steps. I threw myself onto them as Dante moved backwards, firing down the hall. They reached the stairs, and Dante managed to get up on them, but Chad took a bullet to the back as he tried to get up. He staggered, blood spurting from the wound, and gasped as he fell to the floor.
I went upstairs, gun out. There was a door on the left, a door on the right, and a door at the end of the hall. I kicked open the first, found a guy in a dirty tank top sitting up in bed, shot him in the head. His skull smashed back and he fell down bloody. I hurried into the room, found empty pizza boxes and a mattress on the floor, an old Dell laptop shoved in the corner between the wall and the comforter. I cleared it, moved on, just as Dante kicked open the next door.
He fired his gun and more screams rang out. I came in the room behind him to find two dead men, both of them going for guns. The room was a mess, clothes thrown all over, beer bottles scattered, cigarettes piled in an ashtray.
Cosimo fired a few rounds down the steps. “They’re coming up!” he yelled.
I moved out, went to the last door, kicked it open. The room was empty, though just as filthy as the others. Two twin mattresses were on the floor, clothes were all over, and a TV was shoved against the wall.
“Clear,” I said as Dante came toward me. “You go help Cosimo, I’ll take the third floor.”
Cosimo fired a few more rounds and bullets tore up the staircase. There was shouting downstairs as more gunshots rang out.
“Ryan!” Dante yelled.
“They’re falling back,” Cosimo said.
“Go,” I shouted at Dante. “Get them. I’ll go up.”
Dante jumped down the steps, took them two as a time. I saw Cosimo follow, caught a glimpse of Ryan in the front door firing down the hall.
Downstairs exploded in gunshots as I hurried up the steps. I found another similar hallway, two doors and a third at the end. I cleared the first room, another empty, filthy hovel with a single bed and pile of broken cellphones in the corner. I went to the next door, tried the handle, but it was locked.
I threw myself sideways just as someone shot through the thin wooden door. I grunted, returned fire, then kicked it open and threw myself to the side again. More gunshots rang out and I managed to look around the corner.
It was the master bedroom, the largest room so far. It was cleaner than the others, with a bed on an actual frame, a desk against the far wall, clothes stacked neatly on the floor. A man crouched down behind the bed, firing at me from a revolver. I counted his shots, my jaw clenched. I had four bullets left in my magazine, so I held off, let him empty his chamber.
When I heard a click, I ran into the room.
“Drop it,” I shouted.
The man was in the process of reloading. He stared up at me, his eyes wide and wild.
I stared back at Santos, my heart racing.
“Drop the gun,” I said, my voice lower. My ears rang from the booming gunshots, but my hands were steady as sweat rolled down my back.
Santos didn’t move. He held the gun still, the chamber opened, a single bullet placed inside. He looked down at the gun then back up to me.
“Don’t,” I said. “You’re worth more alive.”
“You got nothing,” he said. “You’re just as empty as I am.”
“Don’t do it,” I said.
He clenched his jaw. He lifted the gun and swung the chamber back inside the gun, snapping it shut.
I fired before he could even aim his weapon. My bullet tore through his skull, knocking him back. I followed up with another shot to his chest then kicked the gun from his lifeless hand.
Santos’s empty, dead eyes stared up at me from the floor as blood pooled around his skull.
“Stupid fuck,” I said and reloaded my gun, slipping the spent magazine into my back pocket, and shoving the spare home.
I turned from the bedroom and was about to leave when a laptop caught my eyes. It was on the middle of the bed, a nice new Apple MacBook with the shiny silver metal case. I grabbed it, not sure why, then hurried back downstairs.
The gunshots had quieted. I heard talking as I went down to the main floor. The floor was slick with blood and I found Ryan, Dante, and Cosimo in the living room standing over the dead bodies of three Jalisco soldiers.
The room was a mess of jumbled furniture, marked and scratched walls, and e
mpty beer bottles and cans. The TV was a nice new flat screen with a nice gaming system underneath it, and it looked like they were playing Mario Kart before we showed up. I shook my head and met Dante’s eye.
“Anything good?” I asked.
“No,” he said. “Just some cash.”
“Take it,” I said.
“What’s that?” He nodded at the computer.
“MacBook,” I said. “Santos was upstairs.”
“Fuck,” Dante said, his eyes wide. “No shit?”
“No shit,” I said. “He’s dead now. Couldn’t help himself.”
“That’s his computer then?”
“I hope so.” I looked around the room for a bag, found one under the sink. I tossed the laptop inside, helped them gather up the scattered bundles of fifties, twenties, and hundreds, and shoved them inside. When we were done, we hurried back into the main room.
Ryan knelt down next to Chad, checked his pulse, shook his head.
“Dead,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” I said and put a hand on Dante’s shoulder.
“He was a good kid,” Dante said. “Come on. We have to go before the cops come.”
“We’re leaving him?” Ryan asked.
“No choice,” I said. “We’ll get him back eventually. The cops will make sure of that.”
Ryan clenched his jaw but nodded.
We filed out of the house. Ryan and Cosimo turned right, and I turned left with Dante. We walked fast back toward the car.
I tossed the bag into the back seat. Mona stared at it on her lap then looked up at us with wide, scared eyes as I got behind the wheel.
“It’s done?” she asked.
“Done,” I said. “They’re all dead. We lost one.”
“Shit,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
Dante stared straight ahead and said nothing.
I felt bad for him. He lost a guy, one of his own crew, and that was always hard. As the Capo, it was his job to make sure his guys were safe, and this wasn’t even a job he wanted to do.
But this shit happened in our line of work. One day, that dead body would be mine, I knew it just as well as anyone.
I pulled the car forward and sped off, the wheels leaving tire tracks on the road.