Chapter Twelve
ROCCO
Iwake up to the sound of birds chirping from my cell phone. It’s the default ringtone the phone came with and I’ve never bothered to change it. I know who’s calling, even before I see the caller ID. It’s Emilio, ready to rub it in my face that he’s going to chase me down to the ends of the Earth.
“Hello,” I answer.
“Rocky, Rocky, Rocco,” Emilio’s smugness instantly pisses me off. “How are you doing, little buddy?”
I don’t answer.
“Hello? Is there something wrong with the line?” he asks.
“What do you want, Emilio?”
“I want nothing, Rocco. I’m calling to tell you what I have,” he says. “And you better change that attitude of yours.”
Again, I don’t answer.
“Okay, well, I tried being nice, instead I’m going to tell you what’s going on. Shay Cayden is currently in my custody. She will be arriving at my home shortly.”
What? There’s no way he has Shay. I grab my gun, launch out of bed, and sprint to the bathroom, pounding on the door. No response comes from within. My head snaps back and forth across the apartment, and she’s nowhere to be seen.
That’s when I notice her bag is missing from the sofa.
Oh, no, Shay. What have you done?
“We’re going to have a lot of fun, Shay and me. I’m going to destroy that young cunt,” he laughs darkly. “And once I’ve had my fun, I’ll throw her to the wolves. A lot of young, horny men are going to have a lot of fun with your little bitch.”
“If you lay a finger on her, I’ll—“
“You’ll what?” He asks. “You’re going to swoop in and save the day like some knight in shining armor? No, no, Rocco, that’s not how things work in the real world. You’re going to die.”
The word die must’ve been some kind of signal to the men he had stationed outside my door. As soon as he says it, a barrage of bullets tears through the front door of the motel room.
The shooting stops when someone outside shouts, “Reloading,” before another wave tears through the thin wood.
Whoever’s pulling the trigger doesn’t stop until there’s a hole in the doorway.
Someone joins the firing from the small window beside the door.
I line my body up with the sofa and stay as low as I can.
Bullets fly over my head, through the material, and strike the wall behind me.
By the time their onslaught is over, the room is tattered with holes.
“That must’ve got him, right?” someone asks. He peeks his head into the hole his gun created in the door.
It’s my time to strike. I aim true and squeeze the trigger. He collapses on the floor beside me.
When the ringing subsides in my ears, I can still hear Emilio’s voice from my cell phone. But he isn’t speaking. He’s laughing. The deep, maniacal laughter of some movie villain who’s besting the hero.
Not today, motherfucker.
Through the now tattered curtain, I can see the silhouette of two more of Emilio’s men. I steady the gun, squeeze the trigger, and both of them drops. I approach the door in a rushed crouch. A fourth member of the hit squad is muttering curses to himself.
“He killed them. He killed all of them,” he repeats the phrase a few times over.
“Who’re you talking to out there?” I shout.
I stay low, with my back pressed against the wall, while I open the door.
“It’s fucking Emilio, man,” he responds.
“You holding a gun?” Of course, he is. I wouldn’t believe him if he said no, but Shay was right about one thing. I know these people. Many of them are my friends, and brothers in arms. This small group of assassins would’ve once been under me as the Lombardi’s enforcer.
They know what I can do better than anyone.
“Yeah,” he sounds defeated. Good.
“Put it on the ground now, and come inside. The door’s open.”
“How do I know you won’t just kill me too?” he asks.
“If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead,” I say.
I hear metal hit the concrete floor.
“Come inside.”
He does. I recognize him immediately. Allen Fitzgerald, one of the newest members of the organization.
Emilio was both incredibly smart, and horribly stupid to send rookies after me.
Since they haven’t been a part of the family long, they’re not worth keeping around.
But because they lack the battle-hardened tact of a true warrior, they go down easy.
“Take the earpiece out now, Allen. You and I have some talking to do.”
He removes the earpiece and throws it out of the broken window.
“You’ve just fucked yourself,” I say. “By breaking down and not losing your life for Emilio’s cause, you’ve put yourself in the same spot as I’m in.”
“He’s gonna kill me?” Allen asks.
“He is. That is unless you tell me where he is. He took something from me, and I want it back. Part with that information, Allen, and we can both walk free.”
That’s if I survive, of course. But I’m not going to blow my chances of extracting information from Allen.
“He’s at his dad’s place. He’s just taken everything over. His dad’s not even cold, and he’s throwing out orders and demands as if he’s always run the place,” Allen says. “He wants the girl. Shay, or whatever. Says he’s gonna do some nasty things to her.”
“Emilio told me that himself. What was supposed to happen here?”
“We were supposed to kill you.”
“And then what?” I don’t point the gun at Allen. He’s shaking like a leaf and the threat of death might make him do something stupid.
“Take the girl back to him.”
“When you killed me, what was going to happen next?” I ask.
“We had to call him; tell him you were gone.”
“Boston is a four-and-a-half-hour drive from here. In four hours and fifteen minutes from now, I want you to call him and say I managed to escape, but you caught up with me. When you did, you finished what you had to do.”
“But…”
“No, buts, Allen. You’re being given the gift of life here,” I say.
“What about when he asks where I went?”
“You tell him I fought, and I fought hard. I smacked you in the jaw, and the flimsy earpiece fell out. You’re a smart kid, you’ll figure something out.
” I grab my duffel bag and sling it over my shoulder.
“Cops will be arriving soon, and these ones aren’t on the Lombardi payroll.
We better get going before they see two guys and a bunch of dead bodies outside. ”
“Rocco, man, you sure about this?” We leave the room together, moving into the parking lot.
“Not one bit, but it’s the only plan I’ve got. So, let’s get it done.”
He nods.
“Four hours and fifteen minutes. As soon as you’ve made the call, you start sending word through the organization that anyone who wants to live, better stay out of my way.”
“Alright, Rocco. Will do,” he says.
I part ways with Allen Fitzgerald and get on the road to Boston. There’s no time to plan or overthink this thing. I have to save Shay before that sick fuck lays his hands on her.