Chapter 14
Castor
I slam the car door hard, shutting myself into a space where I can think. No time to relish in my win with the dons. There’s only one thing on my mind… Gia.
I’m never unsettled like this. Staring at my phone infuriates me another few notches. There’s a portrait of a silver-toothed man I’ve never seen in my life. And he’s been following Gia? How hasn’t Marco or myself seen him?
Fuck it.
My heart is in my throat as I dial her number, praying she picks up.
I almost smash the phone when it goes to voicemail. Hearing her innocent voice makes the blood drain from my face. Fuck, wrong number. I dial the new one. No answer.
Did he already get her?
No. Fuck.
Relax, Castor. Think.
I scroll to Yuri’s number. If I call him now, in this state of mind, I’ll blow everything up. No, it’s not the right play. I shouldn’t say anything, because then I have plausible deniability when I snap his fucking neck.
Gia’s new number pops up on my phone. She’s calling. A sigh of relief escapes me, but then I’m terrified it will be his voice on the other side.
I pick up. “Say something.”
There’s sobbing on the other end. “Castor, I’m scared.”
I clench my door handle. “Is he next to you?”
“What? No!I told you I think I’m safe for now.”
I mute my line and sigh hard, trying to get a handle on my thumping heartbeat. So not to look like a fool in front of Donny when he decides to leave the prison, I start my car and pull out. “Okay. Listen, Gia, before I say anything else, there’s something you have to know.”
“What?”
“I’m sorry for stepping back, and for getting you involved in something you have no business being in. I hope you can forgive me.”
There’s sniffling on the other end. I feel horrible and irresponsible for letting something like this transpire. It hurts that she’s not saying anything. At this point, I have to let it all out.
“I want to be with you, Gia, and I’m not letting anyone or anything stop that from here on.”
I hear a soft squeal on the other end.
“That—means a lot. I want that too, more than anything.”
I nod in finality. “Good. Now… Who the fuck touched you? Tell me every last detail and exactly what was said, so I can get to work.”
She stumbles.
“We have to talk quick, Gia. I don’t know if this line is tapped by the Russians or the feds or what now.”
“Okay, okay, yeah. He—he was about five-nine, reeked of vodka, and had those crimson see-through aviators I tried to draw. His frame is thin. Lots of bulging veins. And threatened to snipe me with a rifle if I told anyone.”
I narrow my eyes, internalizing everything. “You said you’re far enough away. Don’t say where, but, are you out of state?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Good. What did he say about collateral, exactly? Did he actually harm you?”
“He was vague. It’s just as I said in the text. And, um, he… fondled my breasts and teased his finger down there…”
I get leather-burn from squeezing my steering wheel so hard. It takes everything not to drive a hundred miles-per-hour right now. “Did you see the car he got into?”
“No. I drove off for my life as soon as he was out of view.”
“Did you check your car for bugs?” I ask.
“Um. No. Shit… I wouldn’t even know what to look for,” I hear the fear resurfacing in her voice.
“Relax. Go to a local mechanic in the daytime and get it checked. Make sure there are no vehicles in your vicinity. And if there are, you go back to your hideout. Okay?”
“Okay.”
“I’ll be in touch very soon. Stay strong.” I hang up the phone after reassuring her one last time, then immediately get on with Big Ace.
“Yo! Boss man. What’s up?” There’s music playing wherever he is.
“Are you alone?”
“Hold up.” His heavy breath drones through as he walks somewhere quiet. “I am now. What’s up?”
“I’m sending you a portrait of a John Doe. I need him found out yesterday. Drop everything you’re doing and get me eyes on this man. Do not tell Ratchet, or any of the other crew without going through me first. This is top fucking secret.”
“Got it.”
That’s why I love Ace. He knows when to get serious and when to play. “Alright. Things to know – Russian. Part of the Patrovski crew. Stinks of vodka and was last seen in Howard Beach in a two-mile radius from Bingo Bangos. He could have fled, but I’m not sure. Consider him armed.”
“Alright. Here’s what I’m thinking. We pull in Marco—”
“Not Marco,” I growl.
“—Drinker then… to get intel since we don’t have much to go on. He’ll be able to sniff him out fastest.”
“Fine. No one else. Circle remains tight,” I say.
“Will report back.”
I toggle on my police detection radio and slam the gas. My mind is racing. As far as I’m concerned, I’m in a race with Ian – Drinker – McNab. Fuckin’ Irishman has his work cut out for him. I’m headed straight for my real estate connection in Howard Beach. And in the hour I have to let my thoughts wander, I only get more angry.
Who the fuck does Yuri think he is? Maybe there was a reason Marty Loophole double-crossed him. So far, this is bad business. And he’s going to find out how that goes real quick.
After ninety grueling minutes of hauling ass, I’m finally off the exit. Another few and I’m parked in front of a hydrant, right outside Liuben Realty.
The door chimes when I open it, alerting four women who shrink back uneasily at my arrival. “Where’s Gus?”
One of the women eyes an office in the back. “He’s in a meeting, sir. May I take your name—”
The tension rises when I ignore her and head right for the back. I glimpse two suits and my boy sitting in his office. No time for pleasantries today, unfortunately.
Woosh.
I push open the door to make the two men immediately uncomfortable.
“Mister DeMatteo, hello.” Gus holds up his hands to his guests, signaling that it’s alright. “Can you give us a minute? We’re just wrapping—”
“I need the room, now. You can call to reschedule,” I say with finality and stand in the doorway so the little suit-rats can scurry on out, then shut the door behind them.
“Bull, what the hell? I’m running a legit business. You can’t just—”
“Sit,” I demand.
“What is it? You look spooked,” Gus says. His bushy eyebrows and silver-rimmed glasses contort with his furrowed brow.
“I am. This is an emergency. I need every rental in the neighborhood within the last two months. I’m looking for a Russian, or group of Russians. I’d assume a basement rental – somewhere offsite like a dead-end block. Obviously, we won’t get a real name, so let’s narrow down to cash.”
Gus is already typing away on his keyboard. “That would take forever to find! Are you nuts?”
“I’ll go door-to-fucking-door if I have to. Don’t tell me no.”
“Alright, I only have access to my database, so let me make some calls and compile a list of any suspicious rentals.”
“Don’t fucking advertise who it’s for, or what it’s about.”
“I don’t know what it’s about, who the hell can I tell?” He shrugs. “Give me four hours.”
“You have one.” I get up and exit his office, ignoring his spluttering. My worry is that this hitman followed her all the way out of state. That’s going to depend heavily on whether she’s being tracked. If not, this fucker is just trying to instill fear, or send a message to me. Either way, he’s a dead man.
I pull out my phone:
Me: Any news if the car’s clean?
Gia: Didn’t leave the house yet. Scared.
Me: Go before it gets dark, Gia. It’s important.
Gia: Okay.
I look at the time to see only five minutes has passed. There’s no point putting more pressure on Gus. He operates fast enough when I ask him once. So what else can I do?
Calling a cab to Gia’s house seems like the best option. The operator sounds confused when I ask for tinted windows, but said she knows one driver who’s are slightly darkened. It’ll have to do.
Time slows down to a crawl when the cabby gets to Gia’s block. I tell him to drive slow, and I slide back in my seat. Marco hasn’t said anything about his sister missing another shift, so I wonder if he’s just keeping things from me, or is he in the dark completely? Maybe the coke got the better of him that night.
No sign of either of Marco’s cars – which is both good and bad since it’s one less person I have to worry about today. I see a familiar Tacoma on the block, a few empty spots near her apartment, and an old-style Corvette. That’s the old man’s across the street.
There’s nothing suspicious at all on the block in the middle of the day, which makes my heart sink back in my stomach.
“Alright. Back to the real estate office,” I demand.
“Yes, sir. Right away, sir,” the cabbie says.
I ignore all my business calls, directing them to Ratchet for the rest of the day. A single text that says “Busy with the boss,” should be enough for a no-questions-asked day.
It’s brutal, though. After reaching out quietly to all my connections on the streets, no one has seen or heard of a skinny Russian in crimson aviators, so I’m stuck in Gus’ office until he gets the information I require.
Hours go by.
I told Big Ace to gather Drinker at midnight – since I know most of his work gets done at bars after dinner – and wait eagerly for all my pieces to fall in line.
Bzzt.
Gia: Good news. The car is clean. I’m back at my hideout. :)
The amount of relief that rushes through me is indescribable. I’ve never felt so protective over a girl, ever. Even the one relationship I had for two years was nothing compared to this. I have no idea what it means, but it scares the shit out of me.
Me: Good. Sit tight, kid.
Gus prints four pieces of paper and pats them straight on his desk. “Here you go, Bullion. Rent amount here, address here, occupants name here, date of rental here. Now may I ask, please, knock first next time? You cost me—”
I toss a sleeve of gold coins on the table.
“Oh great, more pirate booty.” He smirks at me.
“Thanks, Gus. I owe you one.” I knock on his desk and walk out of the office.
As I get in the car, my phone buzzes:
Gia: I just remembered something. The guy I told you about the night you slept over. It has to be the same person as the one who grabbed me, right? Well, the man was leaning on a Maserati outside that night. It was dark, and I could be mistaken about the type of sports car, but I’m pretty sure it had that devil stick logo.
I grin. That’s a unique identifier if I ever heard one.
Me: Good girl.