Trouble Boys (White Lightning Book 5)

by Debra Dunbar

  The sound of a gunshot echoed across the street. Red blossomed over the cream-ivory vest covering Maranzano’s chest. The old man staggered backward, caught by his closest thug. His face drained of all color, leaving him slack-jawed and pallid as his arms dropped to his sides and his weight fell dead into his enforcer’s grip.

  The entire street went silent. Vincent turned to spot Buddy, with his revolver lifted and still smoking.

  “Shit!” Vincent pushed his hostage in front of him as the space in front of the Julietta erupted in gunfire. He pinched time once again, still staring at Buddy’s enthusiastic face, the ends of his mouth lifting in triumph. Slugs hung suspended midair, some only inches away from Buddy’s head. Vincent gripped the youth’s arm, dragging him toward the pavement to avoid the crossfire.

  As Vincent secured him close to the ground, he glanced up to find Lefty frozen in the time pinch halfway to his feet. Bullets were a mere hair’s width from his midsection. Vincent dove through the murky air, snatching Lefty by the leg to fold him backward away from the bullets.

  As Vincent coasted through the time-frozen space, he misjudged the angle he had taken, and as Lefty fell clear of the salvo, Vincent’s sleeve made contact with one of the slugs hanging in its slow, rifled spiral. The full force of the gunshot translated instantly into Vincent’s arm, pulling him out of the time pinch. Vincent twisted sideways as time restored its flow.

  Bullets whizzed by his head as he hurtled through the air. Heart racing, he managed to get a grip of his wits and pinched time once again.

  Reaching out, Vincent pushed himself upright, then grabbed Buddy and Lefty by the collars to haul them back toward the Julietta’s front door. The effort of his time pinch tugged heavily on his chest. He had to get them out of the line of fire and into the building.

  Although he was fairly certain what they were going to face inside wouldn’t be any better.

  Chapter 26

  “When you sauntered into my office,” Catena announced with a grin that oozed smug self-importance, “we were in need of additional magical assets. And now, through your interference I suspect, we are in yet greater need. How appropriate, then, that you should fill that need.”

  Hattie stood up. More guns trained on her.

  Catena lifted both hands. “Stand down, boys. No damaging the merchandise.”

  Masseria stood, straightening his clothes as he turned with disinterest for the back of the club. “Deal with this. Report when it’s done.”

  Catena nodded, then turned to face Hattie. “For what it’s worth, my dear…your talent is considerable.”

  Hattie glared. “Refer to me as your dear one more time. Please.”

  “Or what?” Catena countered, taking a step forward. “You’ll disappear? Turn into one of my soldiers in an attempt to confuse? Or will you somehow pull a gun on me, though I can obviously tell you are unarmed?” He glanced up to Maria. “Or are you relying on your sole compatriot to save the day? An earthquake, perhaps? Please.”

  He was right. She’d grown accustomed to the safety of her illusions. Now that she had been laid bare as if her powers didn’t even exist, Hattie felt so very small. So impotent. Unable to save herself, and worse…unable to save Maria.

  She gauged her situation carefully. Surrounded by guns. Her illusions didn’t work. Maranzano hadn’t arrived to open Pandora’s box with Masseria…the latter of which was about to make his escape through the kitchen.

  This was a desperate moment. She had to do something. For Maria. For Vincent.

  Just as she prepared to dig into the floor and lunge for a gun nearby, the air turned suddenly turbid. Hattie paused, glancing back and forth. No one reacted. She was alone inside a time bubble.

  Vincent!

  Even Catena seemed trapped in the time pinch. However it was that he’d seen through her illusion, it didn’t seem to be working on Vincent.

  She took advantage of the moment, moving back toward Maria. Unfortunately, the time bubble dropped before she could reach her earth pincher. The gunmen jumped as she materialized in front of them. Guns lifted.

  Maria started. Then, a gunshot echoed through the air—outside the building.

  Time pinched again. Whatever had happened outside, Vincent was in trouble. She felt this deep within her chest. He needed help. But then, so did she.

  Hattie plowed forward, snatching guns out of the grips of nearby thugs, leaving them to hang suspended midair as she cleared Maria from imminent danger. She heaved against her friend, pulling her toward the center of the room.

  Time restored its normal flow, sending the woman tumbling into the center of the Julietta, just as a pandemonium erupted outside the front doors.

  The Masseria people ducked in response, twisting toward the front of the club and grabbing the guns that had clattered to the floor. Hattie peered up toward the kitchen, and the doors that swung on their hinges. Masseria had escaped. It was over before it started. She reached back to Maria, who gripped her hand with rapid breath.

  “What’s…happening?” Maria gasped.

  Hattie grabbed her and dove to the floor. Some of the gunmen were hugging the wall, peering at the windows to see what was going on and gauge the threat, but others had turned their weapons toward Maria and Hattie. Just as she tensed for what seemed to be an inevitable death, the kitchen door opened.

  Masseria eased backward, toe-to-heel, arms lifted in the air. As he cleared the far column by the kitchen, Hattie could make out the figure of Betty Sharp following him with a particularly savage length of glass arcing from her grip, its razor edge against Masseria’s throat.

  “Oh, where are you going?” Betty purred with a tight smile. “Running off like a rat? Did you ever think in a hundred years that it’d end like this? Some crazy pincher in a closed-up bar?”

  Hattie got to her feet, she and Maria edging out of the line of fire. Glancing to her left, she noticed that Catena had disappeared.

  Betty laughed. “There’s literally no way you’re clawing your way out of this today. This is the day you die. How does that feel, knowing that?”

  Masseria glared at her. “You’ll die, too.”

  Betty shrugged. “Oh, that’s a given. And I don’t care. You want to know why? Because right here, right now, there isn’t a man or woman alive who can stop your death. It’s inevitable. I hold it in my hand.” She eased the glass blade up to touch the bottom of Masseria’s chin. “I have all the power, and you are powerless to stop it.”

  Masseria sputtered for a second and Betty’s eyes shifted toward Hattie, lifting in triumph—triumph that immediately dissolved into alarm.

  There was a thunk and Hattie saw Maria pitch forward onto the floor, landing hard at the same time a hand slipped around Hattie’s throat, and she sucked in a gasp just as a gun barrel pressed against her right temple.

  Catena’s voice boomed from behind her, so loud she could feel his breath. “Drop the glass!”

  Betty halted, as did Masseria. Hattie struggled for breath, choking a little as Catena’s fingers tightened over her throat.

  “Drop it!” Catena repeated.

  The gun pressed harder against Hattie’s head. What illusion could save this? Would it work? Clearly, no. Hattie was utterly prone and helpless. There was nothing she could do.

  Betty eased her blade a little higher, forcing Masseria to lift his chin. “You drop yours, big boy.”

  “You want this bitch to die?” Catena snarled.

  Betty snorted. “You think I care about her?”

  The pressure eased on Hattie’s temple as Catena sucked in a breath.

  Betty added, “I don’t know her. All I know is that your boss is a dead man.”

  Catena pulled back the hammer, dropping the gun to the middle of Hattie’s back. “I’ve done the math. You’re a pincher whom no one can collar. This illusionist is gathering an army of pinchers. And now you show up…and I’m supposing that’s Maranzano’s men outside. You may be able to bend glass to your will, but you�
��ll never outthink a man like me.”

  Hattie’s face grew red as a ball of anger swelled inside her stomach. For a second, she wished Betty would simply kill Catena, even if that meant she would die.

  But then, where would that leave Vincent? Or Maria? Or everyone else in the Charge?

  Or her parents?

  Tears threatened to blur Hattie’s vision as Catena dug the gun into her spine. Betty’s face, on the other hand, betrayed nothing but her usual confidence.

  Slowly, Betty lowered the glass blade, her face darkening.

  The pressure on Hattie’s spine eased.

  “Drop it!” Catena barked.

  Masseria took that moment to slip behind three of his gunmen who formed a human shield.

  Maria slapped her hand against the ground and Hattie braced for some seismic event—a spike of granite or a crevasse opening up to swallow the Julietta Social Club. But no. Nothing happened.

  Catena chuckled. “Drop that blade,” he said. “And I’ll make this quick.”

  Betty glanced at Hattie and the two locked eyes.

  Masseria was there, the thickness of one man’s chest away from death. Betty could cut the guard in half easily and still slice Masseria’s throat. Hattie knew that. Betty knew that. Every man gathered there, including Masseria’s bodyguard, knew that.

  But Betty’s eyes were planted hard on Hattie.

  Catena shook his head. “You women. Make up your mind, already.”

  Betty set her jaw. And with a deft motion, swung the glass blade into the air in an underarm pitch. The glass split into three dozen smaller blades, all slicing through the air in a cloud descending onto Catena.

  Hattie wanted to close her eyes and brace for the inevitable. But she couldn’t. There was something in Betty’s glance that communicated a sentiment that was…human.

  The glass blades arced through the air in a giant cone, all coalescing onto Hattie and Catena. Even Maria rolled aside to duck the impending doom.

  As the glass reached a space roughly two feet away from the two of them, it pulverized into dust. Simply…disintegrated. Each blade slapped against a sort of barrier, the resulting sand splashing and falling along an invisible sphere before creating tiny dunes on the Julietta floor.

  Betty’s eyes widened, and she took a step back.

  Masseria bowled past his human shield, knocking Betty Sharp to the ground as he dove through the kitchen doors. Catena released Hattie, sending her pitching to the sand on the floor alongside Maria as he stood up with a grin.

  “Now,” he declared. “It’s my turn.”

  He lifted his gun.

  Vincent released his time bubble, tumbling over Lefty. The three scrambled for cover as Maranzano fell limp atop the thug trying to catch him.

  Buddy crawled alongside Vincent as they took shelter beside the Julietta doors. “I got ’im!” he shouted over the gunfire. “Got the rat bastard!”

  Vincent clenched every muscle in his body, trying not to panic. The youth had dropped Maranzano ahead of schedule. It was supposed to be Vincent, but that had been a maybe. The biggest problem was that the act had happened ahead of schedule. Right now, the entire apparatus of the New York gangster community hinged on whether Masseria was still alive.

  Lefty pulled on the doors to the Julietta. They clunked against a deadbolt.

  “It’s locked!” he shouted over the gunfire.

  Vincent groaned in frustration. The last time pinch had drained him. He could pull one more out, if need be, but once that was done, there would be nothing left and he wanted to reserve that last-ditch pinch for when he laid eyes on Hattie.

  The ground pounded, lifting each of the Baltimore boys into the air only to send them hurtling to the ground in a jolt. Vincent shook his head as he caught his breath. He glanced up to find the doors to the Julietta hanging askew.

  “Go!” he yelled.

  Lefty kicked one door open with his heel and Buddy tumbled over him, rolling into the space with Vincent diving after him. The gunfire on the street continued, muffled as Vincent pulled the door closed behind them. He spun on his knee to find the Masseria crew with guns lifted at him.

  “Whoa!” he shouted.

  Catena stood, visibly trembling as he gripped a gun at arm’s length. A pile of sand surrounded the man in a queer style of dune.

  That’s when Vincent spotted Hattie. She eyed him with panicked eyes, clearly in trouble. Then Vincent followed Catena’s gaze to Betty Sharp. The glass pincher stood unarmed, completely wilted save for the flicker of anger shining in her eyes as she stared down the barrel of Catena’s gun.

  Damn it to hell. He’d been saving this last reserve of time pinching for Hattie. But what could that accomplish now? Without a second thought, Vincent paused time as Catena’s finger pulled back on the trigger.

  Time froze around the pistol as the plume of muzzle flare billowed like silk from the weapon. Hattie turned on her knee and plunging through the time bubble for Maria, jerking the other woman off the ground with effort.

  Vincent’s guts twisted as Hattie struggled to haul Maria across the time-frozen room. He couldn’t move. Any stutter in his posture would reveal his complicity with Hattie and Betty Sharp. Now that Maranzano was dead, that was no longer an option.

  Hattie cradled an arm around Betty Sharp, grimacing as she lugged her two compatriots through the double doors into the kitchen and out of sight. Vincent gave them as long as he could before releasing his time pinch.

  The retort from the gun echoed in the room, and the bullet struck the far wall. Catena lowered his gun, eyes searching the room as something heavy pounded on the doors.

  Vincent staggered into the room toward Lefty and Buddy. “He’s dead,” he gasped at Catena. “Maranzano.”

  Buddy lifted his gun, his mouth wide in an excited grin. “Went down like a sack of apples, boys!”

  Another slam against the front door and Masseria’s men turned to train their weapons at the commotion.

  Lefty eased alongside Catena. “What about Masseria?”

  Catena cleared his throat, holstered his weapon, then straightened his suit. “Safe.”

  “And O’Toole?” Lefty pressed.

  Vincent watched with interest as Catena ran a finger beneath his nose with a sniffle.

  “She no longer matters.”

  Hattie tended to Maria as Betty stood next to her in the alley behind the Julietta. Gunfire sounded from within the building, but the end result had already been determined. Maranzano was dead and Masseria had escaped.

  And Catena had seen through Hattie’s illusions since day one.

  “What the hell happened?” Betty asked, wiping the blood from her nose. “And how did Catena do that to my glass?”

  “I don’t know,” Hattie replied. “But it’s all gone wrong. Everything. Horribly wrong. And I’m not sure there’s any way we can fix it.”

  Chapter 27

  A weary celebration filled the Bank as men lifted flasks to Joe Masseria, the Capo di tutti Capi. Bandages adorned arms, still bloody from gunshot wounds. Their numbers were thinner now—even thinner than after the Brooklyn Bridge fight. But Maranzano had fallen and Masseria remained. Victory, costly though it was, belonged to them.

  Floresta wove through the throng, eyes set and narrow. He swept up to Vincent who leaned against a desk.

  “A word?” Floresta demanded.

  Vincent nodded, pausing to give Lefty a warning glance as Floresta led him out the rear door into the trashcan alley.

  Floresta spun on a heel, thrusting a finger into Vincent’s face. “Well, you’ve all gone and cocked this up!”

  “Blame Catena,” Vincent snapped. “We did our part. Catena had an ace up his sleeve. That’s what caused all this.”

  “Yeah. And that’s what I’m talking about. Don’t tell me for a second that O’Toole isn’t one of your people.”

  Vincent sighed. “She was part of the plan. Backup.”

  Floresta shook his head in bewilderment.
“It was damned stupid, is what it was. Now Masseria has absolute rule, and Luciano’s still third in line.”

  “We can salvage this,” Vincent muttered, exhaustion overtaking him.

  Floresta waved his hands in the air. “Forget it. Catena has focus, now. The window has closed.”

  “Nothing has closed. Masseria’s still down to one pincher. We outnumber—”

  “You don’t get it, Calendo! This had to go down a specific way. Now, if we gun down Masseria, the rest of the families will point the finger at Luciano and pop off a whole new war for the city.”

  Vincent shrugged. “This was a long shot to start with. You knew that.”

  “Yeah,” Floresta snapped. “I did. But it’s over now. You people will get your marching orders soon enough.”

  Floresta turned to leave, but Vincent grabbed his arm. As he pulled on the man to halt his exit, Floresta spun and slammed a fist into Vincent’s jaw, sending him spinning to the pavement.

  “Don’t touch me,” Floresta growled.

  Vincent got to hands and knees, rubbing his jaw. “What about us?”

  “What about you?”

  “What happens to Baltimore?”

  Floresta sneered. “Fuck Baltimore. Deal’s off.” Floresta paced a circle, taking breaths until he calmed a little. “Listen, your boy dropped Maranzano. That’s going to smooth things out between Masseria and Corbi. He did you boys a favor. But…if you got any play in mind against the Crew, you can kiss that goodbye. Corbi’s as good as in Masseria’s pocket.”

  Vincent pulled himself to his feet, dusting off his trousers. “So that’s it, then? Our asses are in the wind?”

  Floresta glared at Vincent. “You’ll land on your feet.” Floresta turned and tipped his hat. “I’ll see you in the papers, Calendo.”

  Vincent stood hunched over, rubbing his face as Floresta made a brisk exit back to the front street. After taking a moment to will himself to walk, Vincent returned to the bank.

  Lefty smirked at Vincent, pointing to Vincent’s cheek. “You gonna need a steak on that?”