Chapter 9 Viking
CHAPTER 9
VIKING
His daughter took in her surroundings with open curiosity. He tried to see the twins’ place through her eyes. Inside, the house was more like a big open space, with a rec room in the middle. To the right, there was a large fish tank. Vicky stepped closer to the tank to admire the fish. She was met with scales and a long, slimy body.
With a shriek, she backed away from the tank.
“Al is harmless,” Damon said as he dropped onto a recliner across from the huge television.
Viking frowned. Maybe he should have warned her about the twins’ love for exotic pets. He wasn’t used to taking the feelings of a teenage girl into consideration. There was Katya, of course, but her situation was different. Her health hadn’t allowed her to leave the house much, and as such, Viking didn’t spend much one-on-one time with her. With Vicky, it would be different. She was basically a stranger to him, and he wanted to get to know her.
He was still pondering this when the world exploded.
Viking hadn’t known fear in a long time. The only person he’d ever felt accountable for was his brother Sy, and he could damn well take care of himself, Viking had made sure of that. But when the living room window shattered and gunshots assailed the house, missing Vicky by a hair, his heart almost stopped.
“Get down!” He ran over to his girl. She’d dropped onto the floor in front of the sink.
He ran his hands over her body, making sure she hadn’t gotten shot. Ricocheting gunfire filled the night. Glasses and plates spat into a million pieces, turning the floor into a minefield.
He curled himself over his daughter. “You okay?”
She nodded, her eyes big as saucers. “I’m good.”
No, she wasn’t. This was nowhere near good. But he was going to make sure she would be. And when he got out of this alive, he was going to kill any fucker who had taken a shot at them. After chopping off their fingers that dared to shoot at his daughter.
The sound of a shotgun being cocked echoed in the room. He didn’t need to turn around to see the twins had already started an offensive. They thrived during chaos and mayhem.
He cursed when he noticed he’d left his gun on the coffee table. He took out his phone and sent a message to Kristoff, then looked around the corner at the twins.
Angel had taken cover behind the mantle, two guns drawn. Viking looked at the table where his piece was. The only way to it was a long crawl over shattered glass. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d had his arms and legs torn open by sharp objects. At least glass wasn’t as bad as barbed wire. The latter was a bitch to remove afterward.
When Angel saw where he was headed, he shook his head.
“Underneath the island,” he said.
It took Viking a sec to get what he meant. Then he searched underneath the kitchen island until he found a Glock.
His hands stumbled onto something else. It was a semi, placed underneath the kitchen island.
Vicky’s eyes went wide when he pulled out the AK-47. “That’s a…”
Yeah, it was. He wasn’t surprised to discover the twins had one. Damon was a natural born killer. He was stone cold when he executed someone. He was also a Doomsday Prepper, and had the lead on their arms shipments and testing out new samples. Viking just hadn’t expected to find a part of that shipment near a fruit basket filled with bananas.
Rumors of the twins’ pet gorilla popped into his mind. What if they really had one in the basement or lurking somewhere in the woods?
Then I fucking hope Kong takes out some of the scum outside.
Suddenly the gunfire stopped. An eerie silence descended on the house.
“Viking? I know you’re in there.”
Angel scoffed. “Whoever it is, clearly he wants to die. You know, like death by cop, but in this case, death by a Bloody One.”
“I thought that was a joke.” There had been rumors about a few sick fucks who had actually gone that way. It had happened to Damon twice, but they’d considered it a coincidence. What idiot would try to take down Damon in a gunfight? The man was like the Punisher on steroids.
“So far, the joke’s on them.” Angel looked peeved. “I don’t know why they chose him instead of me. I can put a bullet through their brain just as easily.”
There was no question about it. Thing was, Damon looked more like a ruthless motherfucker. People had no idea that, in some ways, Angel was an even more stone-cold of a killer.
Viking took cover behind a couch and shouted, “This is Viking. And who the fuck are you?”
From the corner of his eye, he saw Damon move. He was like a damn panther, disappearing into the shadows. His back flat against the wall, he held another AK-47 in his hand.
“I’m Vito. We just want the girl!”
He looked at Vicky. Her eyes were huge and her knuckles white, but she was holding it together.
“Vito who? Is that name supposed to mean something to me?” Everyone these days thought they were some bigshot gangster. Truth was, if you made a name for yourself, you never needed an introduction.
“Vito Gavese. I work for Pedro Morelli.” The bastard sounded scorned because he’d had to explain himself. “Send Vicky out and we’ll let you live.”
Yeah, like that was gonna happen.
He gestured to Vicky. “Listen to me. See that latch on the wall right next to the aquarium? It leads to a panic room. I need you to pull it and get in there. Whatever happens, you do not leave there. Once inside, get Katya on the line and tell her where you are.”
She hesitated. “I can shoot.”
When had she learned to shoot? Dammit. He didn’t have time to get into that.
“Get your ass in the panic room. Now.” The longer she talked, the longer he had to rein in Angel and Demon. They looked ready to explode. It was going to be a massacre, and he was ready for it. Vito had made a big mistake looking for him on the twins’ territory.
The second Vicky disappeared into the only safe haven in the house, he grabbed his semi and took position across from Angel.
Damon held a fob in his hand, his face an unreadable mask.
When Damon pressed the button, two things happened. A hidden spot in the wall across the rec room opened, displaying a large selection of guns, ammunition, and even a few hand grenades. Then, a metallic click sounded, almost as if they were being sealed into a vault. Thick metal bars came down over the windows.
“It takes three minutes to close down around the house,” Damon explained.
Viking knew what that meant. Whoever the fuck was out there was gonna engage in a full-out assault on the front door and living room windows. They had to hold down the fort until reinforcements came.
Viking grabbed two more guns from the ‘war cabinet’, pocketed a few hand grenades, and took position before the front door. As this was the smallest point of entry, it was easier to defend by himself.
Not soon after he had that thought, the first attack was launched. Everything from that point on turned into scenes from a slaughterhouse movie. Except, as always, the reality was much bloodier.
Judging by the erupting gunfire, the twins were doing target practice at the window.
A deafening sound filled the air as Vito increased his assault. At one point, Viking heard the huge water tank break and Damon curse.
“You fucking shot at my snake!”
That was not good. The brother was sensitive about slippery old Al Capone.
Damon grabbed something off the floor and threw it in the assailant’s face. Judging by the hiss and scream that followed, Viking didn’t have to wonder if it had hit his mark. Or what that it was.
Dammit. As thrilled as he was from that scaled help, now he had another predator to look out for. Dark as it was inside, whatever lighting that wasn’t shot to pieces, Damon had dimmed. It was impossible to see a snake slithering around.
He scowled at Damon. “Is it poisonous?”
“Does a gorilla like bananas?” Damon spit back.
Shit, fucking shit. He wasn’t even getting into the rumors of them owning a gorilla and feeding it people. Though, it was tempting to test the rumor on this Vito guy, by handing him over to King Kong.
Someone broke through the front door. Just as Viking put a bullet through his head, another one burst through. Shooting out his kneecaps, Viking felt satisfied when the fucker went down, stumbling over his predecessor.
He eyed the steel bars above the front door, going down slowly. Almost there. Almost. Vito must have thought the same because more men came up the front walkway. Viking ducked when a bullet went over his head and buried into the wall behind him.
He rolled over the floor and took cover behind a body. He looked beyond the porch, where he could see anyone sneaking closer. Shielding himself with the dead prick, he pulled out two grenades and threw them outside.
A loud bang shook the front of the house. Drops of blood and body parts sprayed over his feet. Then, finally, the click of the steel bars hitting the floor, sealing off the front door.
He grabbed his semi from the floor and hauled ass to the living room. Damon was at the same spot where he’d left him—plastered against the wall near the mantle. Blood poured from a brow. Angel, on the other hand, looked ready to walk into a board meeting, as always.
“How the fuck does your suit not even have a wrinkle?” Viking snapped as a bullet thudded into the steel table he was hiding behind.
“It’s called custom-made quality,” Angel answered haughtily, then took aim at someone who jumped inside. The asshole managed to get a shot in, missing Viking by a thread, before he dropped dead.
Then the sound of the set of bars protecting the window sounded. Finally, all doors and windows were sealed from the outside. No one could get in.
Damon walked into the pantry and came back, carrying more ammunition.
“Stock up. We don’t know what firepower they’re carrying. They could blow up a wall.” He looked grim, but at the same time, completely in his element.
He didn’t need to tell Viking twice. Those bars would only hold for so long. There wasn’t a house on the planet that couldn’t be breached if you had the right equipment. He doubted Pedro’s henchmen carried any explosives with them, but it was good to be prepared for anything.
Damon stocked up on guns, enough to put Rambo to shame, then took a stand behind the kitchen island. Angel and Viking followed him, as it was the center of the house.
Vito and his men went wild on the front door for a whole ten minutes until they finally figured out they weren’t going to breach it, or perhaps until they were out of ammo.
Then a new crescendo of gunfire started. Much louder this time. Bigger, badder. It sounded as if an all-out war had erupted in the twins’ backyard.
Viking grinned.
Kristoff had arrived.
The hounds of hell had been set loose.
***
The twins’ yard had turned into a graveyard of fresh bodies. Judging by the black vans and soldiers carrying body bags, Kristoff had arrived with a clean-up crew. Viking stood on the blood-soaked grass contemplating their next move.
“You know what this means.” It wasn’t a question. The Morellis had just declared war on them. There was only one way to answer fire, and that was with more fire.
Kristoff looked grim. “We’re not going to war with the Morellis.”
“Why the hell not?”
“The kills weren’t sanctioned by the Commission. Damian Caputo says Pedro operated on his own.”
Fucking fantastic. If the head of the Las Vegas families, Damian “Iron Fist” Caputo, had bothered to call about the Morellis, there was some deep shit going on. Shit that had sputtered all the way into their backyard.
“Operated on his own?” Viking scoffed. “If he did, that’s even worse. He should still take a bullet for it.”
Going against your Pakhan’s orders meant certain death in the Bratva, no matter your rank. It wasn’t any different in the Italian mob.
“He should,” Kristoff agreed. “But only Pedro and his associates, not the entire Family. Pedro isn’t the head of the Morelli family anymore. Caputo made sure of that.”
Which meant he was basically excommunicated from the Famiglia.
“Any reason why Caputo hasn’t taken care of him yet?” As always, Damon asked the most important question, looking for the strategic reason behind Caputo letting this insurrection within his ranks go unpunished.
“Checks and balances,” Kristoff said. “The Morellis are one of the five Vegas Families. There’s trouble brewing in Sin City. Capos killing rival capos. Every Family has a feud with another. Caputo’s been the unofficial boss for just a year now. He’s been patient, but that patience is growing thin. He put a second cousin of Pedro in command of the Morellis, but everyone knows the guy has no balls and is a puppet.”
Viking didn’t give a crap about the Vegas Families or their troubles. All he heard was that Pedro had been declared an outlaw.
“Pedro isn’t backed by his family anymore. So…” He needed to hear Kristoff say the words. There could be no misunderstanding about this. However much he wanted to rip Pedro into shreds, the Bratva came first.
Kristoff handed him a gun. “So, hunting season has just opened, and Pedro Morelli is the prey. May the odds be ever in your favor.”