Chapter 13
Matt
“This one looks promising,” Max cooed beside me, rubbing his hands together. He was just as eager to get through this vendetta as I was.
I wasn’t quite sure yet, but I was starting to perceive that his motivation was hard-core jealousy driven and the fact that he couldn’t act on what his dick craved.
Jesus fuck. That image alone was enough to have me jumping right into the homicidal mood I needed to be in before we stormed into the old prison in front of us.
The thought of my baby sister and whoever’s dick in the same sentence was disturbing as fuck.
“Get the men to suit up. I have a feeling this one is about to get messy.”
There were men patrolling the perimeter, heavy guns hanging from their backs. They looked like the AKs they’d stolen from me, but at this distance, I couldn’t be sure. Either way, from the sheer bulk of them, they were bad fucking news.
It was the first and hopefully last time that I was walking into a prison. Voluntarily or not, some places should be avoided like the plague. The building was abandoned long ago. That was clear in the decay and heavy, unartful, and fading graffiti polluting the walls.
Somehow, I got the feeling that this location came with compliments of the Russian connections the Yakuza had. Hiro’s brother’s story seemed to be true. There was no way someone unrelated to governmental positions could get hold of a place like this and not have at least a couple of black and whites sniffing up their asses. Hiro wouldn’t want any kind of company, never mind the wrong kind, like law enforcement.
Maybe I should give his son’s division a call and drop them a pin for this place with a tag written in white powder. If only I didn’t crave to squeeze the life out of him myself.
The front gates were impenetrable. One entrance guarded by at least seven men.
“It looks like Hiro is upping his security.”
“Too many missing soldiers can do that,” I replied, referring to the amount of Yakuza men we’ve taken out in the last couple of months. I couldn’t hide the grin that set on my face even if I tried.
If he wasn’t expecting it after killing my grandfather, the man was even more delusional than I thought. What intrigued me, though, was that not once had he struck back.
Yet.
“Suit up, gentlemen,” Max whispered into his state-of-the-art walky-talky. “No one goes in without a vest.”
The order was clear and logical, but didn’t apply to me.
After Francesca left, these raids were the only thing keeping me alive, and the more they happened, the more I needed to stretch the rope and see if it snapped.
I’d gotten so used to the adrenaline that it took higher stakes to make me feel anything at all. And lately, that’s exactly what I was craving — to fucking feel something. Anything.
That was a lie. Cause, in fact, I could feel something.
All I had to do was replay Enzo Amato’s words in my head, and I could feel a whole ton. If I had a shrink, they’d probably tell me that I was deflecting. Trying to feel something that could override the void in my chest that resulted from Francesca’s absence.
“Where’s yours?” Max asked as he pulled the Velcro tighter, securing his Kevlar vest in place.
“Didn’t bring it.”
At this particular time, taking a bullet sounded pretty tempting. At least my brain would shut out whatever was poisoning my heart.
“What the fuck?”
“I don’t need it.” I quickly replied.
“Why? Are you fucking bulletproof now? I don’t think so.” He grunted, starting to take his own vest off, and I knew he was about to hand it over.
“No fucking chance.” I pressed the tip of my beretta against his head, showing him I wasn’t in the slightest mood to have this conversation. “Put that shit on or go home.”
“What the hell are you thinking? A dead ex-husband won’t fix the fact that Francesca isn’t here anymore. More so, that shit was your doing, so live with it.”
“I am living with it. ” In my own fucking way. I knew it was going to be hard. I never could have anticipated how much it messed with my fucking brain.
On the nights that I actually got some sleep, I dreamed of going there, bursting into Amato Manor, and fucking her all night long. Francesca was always pinned to the bed in those dreams because even my subconscious knew she wouldn’t give in if I tried such a thing.
I shut my eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to rid myself of that image. I could practically hear her moans of pleasure, and fuck did they sound like magic.
“Are we ready?” I asked. I was more than over this lookout that seemed to have stretched for a damn eternity. We needed the intel, but now it was time to move on to action.
“Lead the way, Boss.”
I sheathed the Beretta and pulled my semi-automatic from my back, cradling it in my hands.
With a sign of two digits up, this operation was a go.
We kept as low as we could, making our way toward the hole in the fence that surrounded the abandoned prison. I knew it would be overflowing with coke. Just another demon to wrestle as we brought hell upon these motherfuckers.
Francesca would have been vibrating with anticipation if she were here. She held herself like a badass mafia queen all the other times. The bloodlust rolled off of her like French fucking perfume, and I was addicted to the scent.
Still, if it were up to me, she’d be tucked away at home, safe and protected, but that would have broken her. My wife was never a wallflower. As much as it had me wearing my heart as a permanent fixture in my throat, that was who she was. It was sexy as fuck to watch her in action, too.
“On three,” Max said, snapping me out of my thoughts.
We were the first to reach the side door, James and Jimmy hot on our trail while the other soldati secured the area around us.
Jimmy and his hacking abilities had given us access to the makeshift security system they’d set up. Every camera showed them what we wanted them to see while giving us a glimpse of reality.
I could almost see him tapping on that damn device of his, turning those images into a loop while we made our way into the back halls of the prison, searching for the center of command.
If Hiro was here, that would be his location.
We snuck our way through the narrow corridors, the stench of solitude and penance following us as we made our way past the cells. Doors hung on rusty hinges while the spaced bars showed us just how poorly these guests were treated. Two bunk beds lined each wall of every cell in a space that surely couldn’t hold the testosterone of four criminals in the prime of their territorial disputes.
How many of them had fallen victim to their bunk buddy? How could they ever close their eyes and be sure that they’d open the next day?
If I was in a place like this, solitary would be a kind upgrade, even if it meant sleeping on the stone-cold floor.
The mattresses that had survived the test of time were either a nasty shade of yellow or had springs piercing the fabric. Comfy indeed. I could bet some of them still concealed handmade weapons crafted out of toothbrushes and the odd spoon they’d manage to divert from their kitchen duty.
But the worst of all was the putrid smell of shit and pee. One look at what they called a toilet was enough for me to know that if one day I got caught and thrown into a shithole like this one, I’d use those weapons on myself and end my fucking misery.
“Jesus, I want to barf,” Max whispered as he covered his mouth and nose with his forearm.
“Just pick up your pace, or this smell is gonna travel home with us on our clothes.”
“Elsa,” Max whispered over his walky-talky, “Freeze the next ones faster. We’re going Speedy Gonzalez.”
Without waiting for confirmation, we picked up our pace, and before long, we found the room we were looking for – the main interior patio.
There were wooden crates piled higher than my head and barrels covered by tarps. I didn’t have to look inside to know exactly what was in them. Slowly, we snuck our way through the crates, using them as cover as we walked the labyrinth to its center.
Suddenly, the space was open. No more crates to cover us. I took a step back into the enclosure, making sure no one saw me.
A long table sat right in the middle of the open space with bricks of coke stacked on top. The Yakuza were using this space for more than just storage. They were cutting their product and getting it ready for distribution.
I looked back at Max, trying to gauge his reaction to both our findings and the fact that we were either turning back or stepping out into the vulnerable open space. But before he could utter a single word, I tackled him to the ground.
“What the…?”
I wasn’t sure when the shot rang, but at least I could feel it had hit me and not in the center of his forehead where that red dot was flashing when I turned around.
More gunfire echoed through the barren walls while Max pulled me back into the narrow corridors flanked by crates of coke. We stopped for a second, and I leaned against the wooden surface, letting myself slide to the floor. The flesh just below my ribcage seemed to be on fire, burning its way right through me and spreading.
I pulled up my shirt, assessing the damage on my side before placing my hand over the wound to stop the bleeding.
“Retreat distraction NOW,” Max yelled.
“Jesus fuck, it stings.”
“What the hell were you thinking?”
Before I could reply, a loud explosion at the front of the prison shook the old walls, and Max yanked me up to my feet, pulling my arm around his shoulders.
“I hope you still have some of that adrenaline rush you were hunting running through you because this is the only chance we have to get the fuck out of here.”
“We came to find Hiro.”
“You’ll find him at your funeral at the rate that that hole is bleeding.”
“Right. Left. Left. Right. Right. Left. Right.” I groaned as we ran for the exit, making sure we were on the right path.
“I marked the corners,” Max said.
“Well, I guess the only thing that makes you dumb is Alison then.”
He squeezed me tighter as a response but otherwise kept his mouth shut.
The more we ran, the more my vision blurred. My left leg was soaked in blood that gushed from the wound as more blood poured from it with each painful step. But before I blacked out, we made it to the fence where our SUV waited for us.
Unceremoniously, Max shoved me into the back seat before taking his place in front, ordering whoever was driving to step on it.
“That bullet was for me.” He grunted from what seemed to be a mile away.
“You can have it once you pull it out. I’ll keep it warm for…” I trailed off, feeling my hand sliding off the wound.
“Eyes open, Matt. Focus on me. Focus on…”
After that, I didn’t hear a word he said.