A loud gunshot stopped the next man from hitting. At first I thought I’d been shot again, but with two of the men holding me, two hitting, and one watching, nobody had a gun.
They looked at one another in confusion, while I tried to think of a way to escape.
Someone whistled and then Tex Campisi stepped out of the shadows, giant grin on his face as he held a semiautomatic in one hand and a baseball bat in the other.
He shrugged and said. “What? I have a hard time choosing weapons.” His grin grew. “Who’s first?”
The men laughed, one stepped forward. “There are five of us. And two of you, one half dead.”
“Damn it.” Tex shook his head. “You know? For a Russian, you’re super smart, I bet you even went to high school while dip shit over there couldn’t make it past first grade. Here’s a tip. You point the gun at the target.”
One of the guys started charging him, just as another gunshot rang out, but Tex’s gun was pointed at the ground.
The guy fell over clutching his chest. He couldn’t have been shot by a semiautomatic, considering his body hadn’t been cut completely in half.
“You know how long it’s been since I’ve shot something that stupid?” Chase stepped out of the darkness.
“But you shot at Tex yesterday,” Nixon countered, joining the line where Tex and Chase stood.
“So I think,” Tex scratched his head and looked around. “That makes it, what? Three against four?”
“We will kill you.” The man holding me spat on the ground. “Italian bastards!”
“Hey, that’s offensive,” Chase piped up. “Some of us are bastards.”
The man holding my body pushed me to the ground. I coughed up more blood, great, and looked up in shock as Frank Alfero stepped in the middle of the guys then opened fire.
Two gunshots, three, four, five, and then six more.
“I think they’re dead.” Tex slapped Frank on the back.
“Yes,” Frank nodded, his face serious. “But, I have not had live targets in a while and I’m to be leaving for New York soon. Trace has been saying my vision is not what it used to be.” He turned to them and shrugged. “And I do not like doctors.”
“Great.” I muttered from a pool of my own blood. “Does that mean I get to be another target?”
“Hey, Nikolai, didn’t see you there.” Chase laughed.
I rolled my eyes. “I have no energy to respond with anything but get me the hell out of here. Now.”
Nixon moved ahead of the guys and leaned down. “Why didn’t you fight back?”
I rolled my eyes, trying to get to my knees. “Probably because I was shot in the side first, then sucker punched from behind before I had the chance.”
Nixon grunted as he helped me to my feet.
“Thank you.” I leaned against him more than I’d like to.
“Sick ride.” Chase opened the door. “I’ll drive us.”
“Us?” I repeated.
“Phoenix may have let it slip where he was going… and we like killing as a family… it’s more meaningful that way,” Tex said then called out shotgun while Frank kicked at a few of the bodies then pulled out his phone.
“Yes.” Frank nodded. “Five bodies… right next to the ocean, quite convenient… Thugs, an easy accident. Thank you, Chief.” He laughed. “I’ll let him know.”
My ears were playing tricks on me, weren’t they? “Cleanup crew?”
“Hell, no.” Nixon barked. “The cops.”
“You called the cops.” Even as I said it I couldn’t believe it. “Why in the hell would you call the cops? On the Russians? The cops can’t do shit to Petrov. It’s his town.”
“Hah.” Frank climbed in the car next to me. “As of one hour ago, it is mine. We’ve bought six of his ports, turned over evidence to the FBI. We do still have some lovely connections there, just lovely.” I had a suspicion the new head of the organized crime division in Chicago was a woman, a very attractive, woman. “And I’ve known Bart for years.”
“Who the hell is Bart?” I gave Nixon an apologetic look then ripped part of his shirt and started bandaging myself up.
He shrugged out of it then started helping without as much as a blink.
“Police Chief.” Frank answered. “Known that man twenty years.”
“They golf together,” Chase said in a bored tone. “Every labor day weekend in Florida.”
I bit out a curse as I touched my bruised face.
“Yeah, you look like shit.” Nixon said unapologetically. “Good thing they didn’t kill you, Phoenix would be pissed to have to protect another Russian.”
“Technically…” I panted. “She’s half Italian.”
All talking in the car ceased.
“Shit.” I was starting to black out. “Keep me awake.”
“So, Maya’s hot.” Chase winked at me in the rearview mirror just as I lunged for him, pumping too much of my blood all over the leather seats.
Nixon smacked him in the back of his head. “He said to keep him awake not make him want to shoot you.”
“I’m married. I was kidding, and look, his color’s already better,” Chase argued.
I groaned into my hands. “How did you buy out Petrov?”
“Sergio, snapped out of some of his… uh, funk, and got pissed, like real pissed,” said Chase.
Right. I knew Andi’s husband was an expert hacker who used to work for the FBI, but I also knew the guys were giving him time to grieve.
“The minute you left he started working on locating the last two houses, as you know, and ended up finding a lot of other information that we knew we could find extremely useful…” He paused and then added. “Not judging, but your grandmother is scary as hell.”
“Shit!” I slammed my hand against the leather as my arm went completely numb. “I needed to be at the clinic tonight.”
“In your condition.” Nixon shook his head. “You aren’t going anywhere, and unless you want stitches in the shape of a dick, I’d probably stay awake so you can make sure one of the guys can help stop the bleeding.”
My vision clouded again. “Just text her for me tell her I’ve been shot… hell tell her I almost died, just make sure she doesn’t…” I tried to find the right words, wasn’t sure how much they knew. If Sergio really had dug up those files, then my name was in them, and so was hers, my family’s, all of our secrets. I started sweating for an entirely different reason.
Nixon nodded to me then said in a lowered voice. “The evidence against your family… dynasty…” It seemed he was trying to choose his words carefully. “…was destroyed. Sergio mentioned something about her mental state. I’ll be sure to let Frank send the text. He can handle things more delicately. Where’s your phone?”
I held in another moan while I reached into my pocket, typed in my security code and handed my phone to Nixon. “He does know the definition of the word delicate? Because he just shot four men in cold blood for target practice.”
“Good shots too. Right in the head and chest.” Tex said approvingly while Chase chuckled.
Nixon’s eyes didn’t leave mine. “I’ll send it.”
“To Jac.” I felt shame for my family in that moment, shame and relief, that for the first time in my life, I would no longer have to bear the secrets on my shoulders alone.
“We’ve got you.” Nixon nodded then started furiously typing away on my phone while I gave in to the darkness.
When you meet a man you judge him by his clothes, when you leave, you judge him by his heart. —Russian Proverb
HE SCARED ME. HIS ENTIRE PRESENCE felt… angry, tense. And he also reminded me of someone, something, I wasn’t entirely sure what, maybe it was just the way he moved about the room. He moved like a predator, like he was faking a calm on the outside while a war was being fought on the inside.
“Sit.” Phoenix was leaning back against the white leather couch, his legs propped up on the table, everything about his position appeared relaxed but his face was tight, his eyes piercing right through me. He ran a hand through his semi-buzzed hair and bit out a curse before muttering something in Italian and standing. “You know what? I’ll stand for this. I think I need to stand.”