9. Chapter Nine
Chapter Nine
Ramon Blanco
Sure, it was a close call, seeing EZ and those fucking hounds carelessly strolling up the street, but it confirmed that I needed to get the kid to go to St. Louis sooner rather than later.
I was running out of time, but I had something I needed to do, and I wouldn’t go back to Hell until I had my answers.
My past was a matter of speculation for most of my friends, living or dead.
I made a point of keeping everyone in the dark about my activities, and of course, nobody but me knew how much business I had going on behind the boss’s back.
That was my fucking retirement plan for my family, though now, I had no idea where that money went.
Yes, I had eight kids by five different women, but they were all friendly with me before I died because I took care of my kids, so any of them doing me in wasn’t a worry I had.
My kids were too young to remember me, and my sudden descent to Hades kept me from getting the time to check on them.
I wanted to be sure they were okay and find out which backstabbing son of a bitch shot me.
Paddy Egan, the head of the Egan Rats, which was the Irish family who ran everything on the Mississippi River in St. Louis, had a friendly enough relationship with the DeLuca crew. My family ran The Hill and the city taxi union.
We got along with the Irish much better than we did the Bosnians, who ran South City.
Amar Deli?’s gang ran Soulard Market and all the produce growers who sold their goods there on Saturdays.
I had no beef with Deli? and neither did my boss, though some of our crew didn’t like them for one reason or another.
The Bosnian’s had beef with the Irish for reasons unknown to me, but keeping the peace in St. Louis was a very intricate juggling act.
As long as everyone kept their shit out of other territories, wars wouldn’t flash off.
A lot of the time, my Italian brothers were tasked with keeping the peace. The tightrope was thin.
Of course we had our fingers in the drug trade in St. Louis, though our family kept our involvement quiet.
It was spread among three gangs on the north side of the city.
Boss gave them a couple of corners on The Hill to sling for a cut of the profits, and they always paid the tax when my crew and I came around to collect.
No, I couldn’t figure out a reason why any of the inhabitants of the seedy underbelly of St. Louis had an issue with me. I was fair with them and respected their territory, and they returned the sentiment.
That left my own crew.
Tony Bianchi was a fellow capo who’d been in the family longer than me.
When Johnny DeLuca named me capo and gave me a part of Tony’s territory, it was a shitshow, but Johnny was an old man at the time.
That didn’t mean he didn’t turn one of my guys to tap me, but of the five of them, I didn’t think any of them were disloyal.
Sonny Russo, who had been my right hand, wouldn’t hear of it from them.
Tino Gallo was just a street kid when I got pinned as a capo.
By now, I was sure he had his own crew—or maybe most of mine.
I’d heard through the grapevine that a few of my guys were pushing up daisies like me because they got caught in the crossfire of turf wars over my territory, but so far, I hadn’t run into them down below. I guess Hades was a big place.
It wasn’t like I had the run of the place, either. It was funny how the door to my cell—or whatever they called it—just opened one time when I pushed against it in frustration. It was almost like someone wanted me to get out.
When Justin got us to the garage where he’d parked his car, I felt his pockets to see if he had the keys, but he didn’t. If I could get into the car, I could hotwire the damn thing.
Don’t you dare hotwire my SUV. The door code is six-two-nine-four. There’s a spare key in the glove box. If we gotta do this, we’re going now. I’ll clean up the mess with Clay when we get back. This is fucking ridiculous.
I couldn’t hold the laugh. “Thanks, Kid, but that doesn’t seem smart.
You don’t want some crazy asshole breaking into your car and taking you hostage.
Anyway, I don’t know how to use that fancy map thing, so if I let you take control and drive us, will you promise no funny business?
The way I remember it, it’s a straight shot down I-70. Is it still that way?”
Fine, but I have to call my office and tell them I had an emergency. I’ve gotta be back by Tuesday for my date with Clay.
“Sure, Kid. If you make it out of this, I’ll be sure you get home by Tuesday.”
I sure as hell hoped he would make it.