17. Gabriel Returns to Italy #3
“Is he okay?” Carmelo asked, the fear in his voice surprising him.
“Wrap the bodies,” Gabriel commanded. “We gotta move them before the others get here.”
Carmelo couldn’t stop staring at Diego.
Gabriel put his finger on Diego’s neck. He had a pulse. Weak, but he had one. Through the night goggles, he saw blood spreading down Diego’s leg.
As he applied pressure, he asked Diego, “You got hit in the leg. Where else?”
“Chest, dead center,” Diego said. “The vest stopped it.”
Gabriel applied pressure to Diego’s leg, flicked his gaze to Carmelo.
“Fratello.” Brother. “Carmelo, focus up.”
Eyes filled with fear met Gabriel’s.
“I can save him if you clean this up. Now!”
Still no reaction from Carmelo, so Gabriel slapped his cheek. “Wake the fuck up. Get these bodies into the building!”
Carmelo jumped into action, ordering the men to wrap both bodies in the waterproof sheets.
A car drove up, the headlights blinding Gabriel. The lights went out, the driver’s side car door opened.
Gabriel stood, lifted his long rifle. The Bratva raised his arm, started blindly shooting in their direction.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
Gabriel opened fire.
RATATATATATATATATATAT!!!!
The passenger door opened.
BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!
Again, Gabriel returned fire.
RATATATATATATATATATAT!!!!
Shell casings flew everywhere. The car got riddled with bullets. Both men fell to the ground. Two of his men ran over to confirm the enemy was down. Those were the last two of the six for the 5 AM shift.
Diego started moaning. Gabriel bolted back over to him, and re-applied pressure to his leg.
“Fuck, that hurts,” Diego groaned.
His bodyguard had lost a lot of blood.
“You are not dying on me, Diego.” Despite his bodyguard’s groans, Gabriel continued applying pressure to his thigh.
Gabriel needed to get him to the hospital. He yanked his phone from his pocket, turned it on, and made a call.
“Hey,” his cousin Monroe Santini answered. “Where are you?”
“Distillery. Diego’s been hit.”
“I’m on my way.”
One of his guys had parked the empty box truck nearby and his team was busy loading the wrapped bodies.
He made a call. His foreman, Vittorio, answered.
“I need you out front,” Gabriel said.
Seconds later, his employee knelt beside Diego. “Should I call for an ambulance?”
“We call for an ambulance, the police show,” Gabriel replied. “Apply pressure here.”
As soon as Vittorio took over, Gabriel flipped up his night goggles, shone his phone light on Diego. He couldn’t see any additional wounds, no blood was pooling beneath him, but he wasn’t rolling him over to check.
“My leg is killing me,” Diego bit out.
“We got you,” Gabriel said. “Help is on the way.”
“Don’t let me die,” Diego murmured.
“Never,” Gabriel replied.
“Tell me you got ‘em.”
“All ten.”
Though the pain, he smiled. “Nice.”
Where the hell is Monroe?
As he started to call her, a car drove around back, headlights flashed twice. The vehicle stopped nearby, his cousin jumped out wearing cat pajamas. Monroe was barefoot, her long, dark hair pulled into a messy ponytail, her thick-rimmed glasses too large for her face.
Despite the mayhem, he cracked a smile.
“Grazie,” was all he said. Thank you.
“Vittorio, I’m calling a locksmith to change the building locks,” Gabriel explained. “Handle it.”
Vittorio was a quiet, mild-mannered employee who did a good job, but never stood out to Gabriel as a leader.
“What if more Russians come?” Vittorio bleated. “We can’t fight back.” He glanced at Diego. “I go to hospital.”
“Get in,” Monroe said. “Then we’ll load Diego. You gotta apply pressure and not let up. Yes?”
“Yes, of course,” Vittorio replied.
Vittorio got in, then Gabriel and Monroe moved Diego into the back seat of his cousin’s vehicle while Diego groaned through the pain. Vittorio pressed down on Diego’s thigh.
“Thank you, Vittorio,” Gabriel said. “You’re saving his life.”
Monroe jumped into the front seat. “I’ll call you later.”
“Come up with a believable story, Monroe,” Gabriel said. “He’s got a wife and kids.”
She left, Carmelo hurried over. “Boss, we got the bodies loaded. I’m takin’ two guys with me.”
“You clear headed, Carmelo?” Gabriel asked.
“Yeah, all good. Seeing Diego shot shook me, but I’m okay. I got this.” Carmelo extended his hand. Gabriel shook it.
“Nice and easy, Carmelo,” Gabriel said.
“Yes, sir.” Carmelo strode to the box truck and drove way.
Gabriel was ticking off the items one by one. Next call? His locksmith.
“It’s gonna be a while,” the locksmith said.
“Ten, tops, or I get someone else.”
“It will cost you, Mr. Santini.”
“Whatever it takes.”
Gabriel instructed the remainder of his guys to move the Bratva vehicles. “Take them to Paolo’s junkyard.”
When the last car drove out, Gabriel breathed deep.
Soon, his day shift would be arriving, so he strode to the basement and restored the electricity.
Back on the first floor, he found the night crew hiding in the break room.
He reassured them that they were safe, but their confidence had been shattered.
After ushering them into the lobby, they waited for the day shift to arrive.
Five minutes later, they started filing in.
One of them hugged him. “Mr. Santini, thank God. It’s been a nightmare.”
“Welcome home,” said another.
“It’s been a rough week,” said a third.
Once his employees had arrived, he gathered the milling group. “I’m sorry for what you’ve been through. I know it’s been a scary week. Thank you for your courage, for working under these terrible conditions.”
“Are more Russians coming?” asked one of them.
“We’ve been terrified,” said another.
“I prayed for your return,” said a third.
“The locksmith’s on his way,” Gabriel explained. “Security will be heightened, we’ll be returning to our normal eight-hour shifts, and everyone will receive a sizable bonus in the next paycheck.”
He answered their questions, assured them they were safe. The night shift left, the first day shift began working. Before Gabriel could take a moment, his phone rang.
It was his cousin, Monroe.
He answered, “Tell me good news.”
“Diego’s gonna be okay,” Monroe said. “You know, G, you operate in a vortex of evil.”
The tension claiming Gabriel’s shoulders released in a chortle. “A vortex of evil? What went wrong with you and Teddy?”
“Every summer, Elsa would read to us from the newspaper, science books. Non-kid stuff. She told us it was important to sound smart.”
“No, Monroe, it’s important to be smart.”
She laughed. “Diego’s in surgery. You coming down to see him?”
“Did the police swing by?”
“Not yet.”
“What did you tell the hospital staff?”
“He shot himself in the leg,” she said.
“How’d you get involved?” Gabriel held his breath. His cousin usually went bat-shit crazy with stories.
“I’m a rideshare driver. I sent Vittorio home before we went in.”
“Come back and pick me up after you lose the cat pajamas.”
Her throaty laugh made him smile.
“What, so now I’m your effin’ driver?”
“Well, Diego can’t do it.”
“Jesus, you’re demanding. Kitty PJs or get your own ride.”
“I’ll be here.” He hung up.
Minutes later, his locksmith showed up. When he finished, the facility’s locks had been changed out for a handprint and retina system.
Gabriel paid him, then tipped him two grand. “You were never here.”
“Never even heard of you, Mr. Santini.”
The locksmith drove away as the first light of a new day brightened the skies.
Carmelo called with an update. “The bodies are at the location.”
The “location” was the crematorium.
“Good work,” Gabriel said. “Everyone okay?”
“We’re good. How’s Diego?”
“He’s in surgery.”
“I’ll call his wife, stop by the hospital,” Carmelo said. “You sticking around?”
“I got more fires to put out, so I’m flying back today,” Gabriel said. “You’re not ready to be my underboss, but you could be. Work on it. Yes?”
“Sorry about earlier,” Carmelo replied. “I appreciate your faith in me, Boss.”
“Don’t let me down.” Gabriel killed the call, finished talking with his staff, then brought his forewoman into his office to show her how to use their new entry scanner.
“This is much better,” his forewoman said.
“Can you get the employees set up?” he asked.
“Of course,” she replied.
“I’m hiring a security team,” Gabriel said.
“That’s the best news yet,” she said.
After a bloody battle, he’d taken back Santini Spirits. The fight for power and control with the Bratva went back hundreds of years. He had no doubt it would continue for hundreds more.
Monroe returned and picked him up. “Where to?”
“La Grande Fuga,” he replied. “Then, home.”
After calling his housekeeper to let her know to expect him, he called Diego’s cell phone. His wife answered.
“Diego’s out of surgery,” she said. “He said thank you. I’m still angry as hell he got shot.”
“Let me talk to him.”
“Hey, Boss,” Diego said. “Making me wear the vest saved my ass. Grazie.” Thank you.
“Make your wife happy. Run the security team I’m hiring for the distillery.”
“Working for Cosa Nostra is what I’m born to do,” Diego said.
“Talk to your wife,” Gabriel said. “Give it some thought.”
“Thanks, Boss.”
“Rest up,” Gabriel said. “Watch your back. This isn’t over.”
“It’s never over. We got another buncha crazies coming up behind these.”
“Body armor.”
“Yeah, Boss.”
Gabriel hung up as Monroe pulled up outside La Grande Fuga. There, he left his long gun and helmet but kept his CANiK in its holster and the body armor in place. With his Santini suit and dress shirt draped over his shoulder, he left.
Next stop… home.
“What’s been going on with you?” Gabriel asked as Monroe pulled back into traffic.
“I got a stalker,” she replied.
Gabriel craned around.
“No, G,” she said. “Not someone on our tail now. A stalker. Some nutjob I met.”
“What are you doing about it?”
She shot him a sideways glance. “Biding my time before I take him out.”
“Playing with your prey before you eat it.”
She chuckled. “And I picked up a few new jobs.”
“With?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Did you vet them?”
“Always. The guy’s some rogue agent. Works alone. Met him the same time I met the stalker.”
“Who is he?”
“He goes by Wolf.”
“Wolf Devereux?”