Chapter 17
Chubs
“I know it’s not ideal, Aria, but it’s the smarter move,” I explain again.
“I have a business to run and patients that depend on me, Adriano!” Aria exclaims irritably as she grips her hair at the sides of her head in both hands. “Mom should go. I agree. But I can’t just up and walk away for what could be weeks.”
“Mom’s not going to go without you too, and you know that,” Les interjects.
“Why are you staying then? Do you think Mom will be okay with you two here, doing God knows what and putting yourself in danger, and her and I just going away on a vacation?” Aria questions, hands now on her hips.
“No, she won’t be, but she’ll leave town if she knows it’ll keep you safe,” I answer while hoping guilt will get Aria to agree.
Shoulders slumping, my sister stares at me. I can see the fight in her eyes, and I know she’s the most stubborn of us kids, but she also loves our mother and wants her safe. I know I’ve won when she uses both hands to rub her face and then nods curtly.
“Fine. I’ll speak with my business partner and tell her I have a family emergency and have to leave the state. She’ll have to cover any emergency patients, and my regular appointments can be canceled for now. Any idea how long this could take? Do I tell her a week or a year?” Aria asks with a bite in her tone.
“Hopefully, only a few weeks, and thank you. Things will be easier if we’re not worried about you and Mom too. With Les taking a leave of absence from the bank and you two out of danger, we can accomplish things quicker, I hope,” I reply while pulling her to me for a brief hug.
“I better go start making some calls, then. When do you want us on the road?” Aria asks as she steps back.
“Leaving during the night is best, so midnight tomorrow. Pack what you need and get a nap if you can because you’ll be doing most of the driving. You need to get there as soon as you can, so you won’t get much rest along the way. We need to go speak with Mom now. Thanks, little sister.”
“Talk to you in a while,” she says, then walks for the staircase.
“Let’s go convince our mother to leave her sons behind to keep her daughter safe,” I mumble, and Les follows me to the kitchen.
The next evening, having convinced the women this is the best move, I sit down at Mom’s desk and write a note. When I’m finished, I walk to the backpack I left by the door and slide the note inside. Double-checking the contents of the backpack, I can’t think of anything I forgot that the women would need. Heading back to the kitchen, I find Les packing a cooler for them. I add some drinks, then make a thermos of coffee and sit it beside the cooler. When Les finishes, we each pour a cup of coffee and take a seat.
“After they’re gone, are we staying here or the hotel?” Les questions.
“We’ll stay here tonight. Too much movement might attract attention, and we need to avoid that. Tomorrow, we’ll move to a new hotel,” I answer.
“We set our bags by the garage door. We’re ready,” Mom states as she enters the kitchen.
I stand and pull her into my arms for a hug. I hate having just been reunited with her and Aria, and now we’re being separated again.
“Please be safe and keep your brother that way too,” she whispers.
“We’ll be safe, and we’ll stay in contact with you. You remember everything I told you, right?”
“Yes, I do. The note is inside the backpack, along with cash, guns, and ammo. Drive straight there, stopping only for gas or necessities. Keep our eyes open and alert. Leave our cell phones here and only use the one you gave us,” she answers as she steps back.
“And don’t tell anyone anything except what you instructed us to say,” Aria adds somewhat sarcastically as she enters the room.
“Thank you, and again, I’m sorry all of this is happening, but it’s our best option for now. Les and I’ll stay in contact and call if anything happens. You are armed for a reason. Don’t hesitate to protect yourself and Mom if needed,” I state in a serious voice.
“We’ll call or text when we get there. Be safe, brothers. You still owe me for losing that bet years back, and I aim to get paid,” Aria says with a wicked grin before giving me and Les each a hug.
“What bet?” I ask curiously.
“The one that ruined Mom’s view of me as her little princess. Who could spit the farthest, and I kicked both your asses. You each owe me a triple scoop at Willard’s Ice Cream Shop.”
“Forgot about that. Whatever flavor you want, it’s yours,” I answer with my own grin.
Once we get everything loaded into their car, I head back inside so I’m not spotted when they leave. Les waves them off from the garage and then joins me watching from behind the living room curtain. After several minutes of no other vehicles moving on the street, and we feel comfortable that they’re not being followed, we head back to the kitchen.
Time to fuel up for what needs to be done.
With my brother’s help and knowledge of all things Vero, our reign of terror on them picks up its pace. Every few days, one of their members or businesses gets taken down or destroyed. Several of the lower-ranking members have found themselves locked in an abandoned warehouse awaiting their fate. Wearing masks and gloves to hide our identities, we make sure they have food and water but no other necessities. Not torture, but not fun either. They’re not happy little mafia bitches, and most are scared shitless with countless hours to think about what their future, if they have one, will hold.
The biggest problem we face, though, is getting to the top members. They’re well-guarded, especially now, and most are lying low. We’ll need some way to lure them out, and I have no idea what that will be.
“I’m not sure we have to get to the top, Drew. They only have enough men left to guard them, and their businesses are either destroyed, needing lots of repairs, or are closed because of all that’s happened,” Les reasons.
“You might be right. Maybe what we should do is let the other families know just how weak Vero is right now. Let them do the rest,” I answer.
I have no beef with the other organized crime families in Chicago, and I matter zero to them. I’m not here to rid Chicago of its crime problems. I’m here to ensure that me and my family can start leading normal lives. A life where Aria isn’t forced to marry someone, especially a monster. A life where Les can go to work without watching over his shoulder. Where he can feel comfortable enough to maybe marry and have children someday. Where I could maybe, just maybe, do the same thing. Mom could be out from under the Vero’s thumb and watchful eye and not live her life as a messenger between them and her husband. Maybe she could finally move on from Enzo and start a new life of her own. While I love my father, he made his choices and needs to live with them. We didn’t and deserve our own lives.
“Let’s take today off and think how best to go about that. No matter what, though, I’m going to locate the two FBI agents that forced me into their form of WITSEC. They owe me, and I am going to collect,” I state in a grim voice.
“We should look into The U.S. Marshal’s Service then too. They’re the ones actually in control of WITSEC, not FBI. So, the agents either lied about who they worked for or they had dirty friends within. Keep in mind, they may not still be breathing. They were working for the wrong side, and after you were supposedly blown up in that car, the family may have tied up those loose ends,” Les advises.
“True, but I’ve always gotten the feeling that my supposed death was to cover up the fact that I escaped them. They would’ve most likely been killed if the family knew I had gotten away. I’ve never had any reason to believe the family thinks anything other than I’m dead. What I haven’t figured out, though, is how and why did two more Feds show up in Denver looking for me. How did they know I was still alive, and how did they find me? Are they actually building a new case against the Veros, or was that a ploy to get me back here, away from the club and Denver? If the two from Denver are working for the family, then the family would know I’m alive, and some move would’ve been made against you, Aria, and Mom. Maybe even Dad if they thought he was aware I was alive, and yet none of that happened. I can assume things, but until I track these agents down, I won’t know for sure.”
“Then let’s take a break from what we’ve been doing and concentrate on the agents and their whereabouts,” Les suggests.
Nodding my head, I pull out my tablet and start researching again. Les takes a seat nearby, pulls out his laptop, and does the same. Several hours later, Les jerks up straight, then shoves his laptop in front of my face.
“Look at these two photos. Same guy in both, right? He’s aged, but it’s him. I’m sure,” Les states.
Looking at both, I nod slowly. That’s one of the fuckers that snatched up a confused and scared teenager many years ago. No doubt about it.
“That’s a newspaper article, only a few months old, about him running for city council. It mentions his district, so that gives us an idea of what part of the city he’s living in. Hang on,” Les says while continuing to read. “It also says where his offices are. We’ve found one of them.”
My heart gives a slow thump, then speeds up in excitement. We just might be able to pull this off, and if so, I can return to my woman. She may not accept me back, but at least I’d be able to try. Just to see Lucy’s beautiful face again would mean everything to me.
“Let’s go check it out,” I say.
We spend several days observing the former FBI agent, now turned politician, live his normal life. We know where he works, lives, buys his favorite coffee, and the gym he works out at. We also know where his mistress lives and what nights he visits her. By carefully observing him, we know he’s right-handed and carries a handgun at all times in a shoulder holster. We know his wife’s schedule and where their son attends an ivy league college. Something that most FBI agents could never afford, the same being with the home they bought. I’m angry knowing that he afforded those things by hanging people like me out to dry. He took payoffs to live beyond his means, and those payoffs cost others their lives. Of course, he’s become a politician. He’s got the mindset for it and the backing because crime families love having politicians in their pockets.
“We’ll move on him tomorrow night when he goes to visit his side piece,” Les says with disgust.
“It’s fortunate for us that she lives where she does. He’s not using his FBI training to his advantage by not putting her up in a more secure apartment. Tonight, let’s take a stroll around her neighborhood to double-check for cameras, but I haven’t spotted any yet. We’ll grab him when he leaves, so she doesn’t get concerned when he doesn’t show up,” I add.
Having helped at the club’s security business a few times has paid off. I know what to look for and how to disable most every type of security camera there is, thanks to Rex’s thorough training program. I just wished more of his computer skills had rubbed off on me too. I can get by with what I know, but Rex would be invaluable right now.
I have a moment of harsh regret knowing what my disappearance would have done to Rex. The man is like a dog with a bone when he’s working on something, and I can only imagine how many hours of sleep he’s missed trying to find me. I hope someday to be able to apologize and gain his forgiveness, but for now, I need to focus so I live long enough to get the opportunity.
“Aria called earlier when you were showering. Said they were one day out from their destination. Also said to tell you thanks for the route you ordered them to take. She said she and Mom have now seen most of the U.S., and she said it sarcastically. You’re going to pay for sending them to the four corners of the country,” Les warns with a grin.
“I’m gaining debts to be repaid left and right, but it’ll be worth it to know they’re safe,” I reply, knowing I have a lot of people to beg forgiveness from.
Les and I are standing deep in the shadows of the alley that runs behind the apartment building. Bob Morrow’s still inside but should be leaving soon. When he does, he must pass me within five feet to get to his car. Lucky for us, his girlfriend’s apartment is at the front of the building, and the only other one is currently vacant. Les is closer to the car and will be the distraction I need to get the jump on Morrow. Hearing a door shut, I tense then tug on my gloves while Les does the same.
When the man we’re hunting comes into view, Les steps from the shadows, hoodie concealing his features. Morrow’s head snaps up as he gauges if Les is a threat or not. With his full attention on Les, I step behind him and put him in a chokehold. Some of the former agent’s training comes back to mind because he instantly starts fighting with precision.
He twists in my arms a little and then hammers me in the ribs, but I keep him from being able to reach his gun. Trying to stay in a safe position, I move with his body, but his blows are not gentle. Using my foot, I trip him and swing us around so he lands on his frontside with me clinging to his back. Tightening my chokehold, his body thrashes before I feel a sharp pain in my thigh.
Realizing I’ve been stabbed, I shift positions, trying to protect my leg from more wounds. Les drops down next to us and gets a grip on the wrist that has the weapon. The fight doesn’t leave Morrow, though, and he battles with everything he has. He’s a large, fit man, but there are two of us. Eventually, Les stands long enough to stomp on the hand, forcing Morrow to drop the knife. Kicking it away from us, Les quickly gags our prisoner before he thinks to call for help.
Pulling the handcuffs from my waistband, I get them on Morrow. Then we lift him to his feet. I pull his handgun out of his holster and slide it into my waistband. It may end up being used in a crime, and it’ll tie back to him, not us. Les locates Morrow’s dropped keys and phone. Then we shove him to his car. Opening the trunk, Morrow is forced inside. Les hands me the keys, then jogs away to retrieve our car, then follows me as I drive away in Morrow’s. The whole fight only lasted a few minutes, even though it seemed like a much longer time, and I realized that not one of us said a single word.
Heading straight for the warehouse that contains some of Morrow’s old friends, Les stays close behind. We obey every traffic law and still arrive at our destination in only twenty minutes. Until we arrived, I didn’t think about the blood running down my leg and soaking my jeans. Now that we have and the adrenaline has retreated, the pain sets in.
Climbing from the car, I take a careful step but stop when a shooting pain goes up the length of my thigh. I take a few deep breaths and try again, this time pushing through it.
Les approaches, looks down at my leg, then asks, “How bad?”
“Nothing fatal but hurts like a bitch. Stabbed me in the thigh muscle but only got me once. Let’s get this done. Then you can sew me up.”
After another brief battle, we get Morrow searched more thoroughly and locked up, tethered to a wall in sight of his co-workers. We toss a few bottles of water next to him and walk out of the building. Locking the padlock on the door, we walk to the two cars. Les, once again, follows me as I find a spot to ditch Morrow’s car. I clean it free of my prints and all blood or evidence just to be safe before getting out. Leaving it in a high crime area, keys on the seat, I know it’ll be in someone else’s hands within the hour.
Returning to our latest hotel room, I pull a first aid kit from my gear and hand it to Les. Removing my jeans, I wash the blood off my leg, then take a seat on the bed. Les pulls a chair up, looks at my wound, then opens the first aid kit. Pulling out a small bottle of antiseptic, he cleans the wound thoroughly. He grabs the bag of supplies he bought on the way here and removes the small sewing kit and fishing line.
Using gauze bandages, I keep pressure on the wound while Les prepares the needle. When he’s ready, I remove the bandages and lean back on my hands. Sucking in a harsh breath between my teeth, I force my mind away from the pain and bring Lucy’s image up. I concentrate on some of my favorite times with her and refuse to acknowledge how painful being sewn up is.
I focus on remembering Lucy dressed in a beautiful ball gown of deep emerald, introducing me as her fiancé, and how proud I was of that. I think back to her talking about ideas to help Luke and the rest of us to learn sign language and how much effort she’s put into making that happen. I remember her anger over the reasons that women need a place like New Horizons and how she’s determined to help them. Her excitement when Bailey gave us a gift, a drawing she’d done of us together, and how perfect she’d captured our shared love. Lucy’s love and respect for her family and how they’ve accepted me into their fold, no questions asked. Lucy’s desire to get a pet, have kids with me, and build our own home.
“Done. It’s not the prettiest, but it should hold,” Les states as he stands to throw away the needle.
“It’ll work,” I mumble while covering the wound with a large bandage.
“Do you think he’ll figure out who you are?” Les questions as he returns to his chair.
“Our hoods and face masks kept him from seeing our faces clearly, so no, I don’t. Not yet, anyway. We’re going to have to question him tomorrow because I want to know where his partner is and then make a plan to bring him to the warehouse too. In the meantime, I think he’s going to assume that someone has figured out his involvement with the family, and that’s why he’s sitting with so many of them.”
“Get some sleep, and we’ll go back tomorrow night,” Les says before making his way to the bathroom.