Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Luca
W e parked a quarter mile apart on the long, straight stretch of Mass Pike. Sal had dropped off the fake U-Haul and the black cargo van at a gas station outside Needham about an hour before we arrived. He ran Vinnie’s scrapyard in Revere and had a refurbished box truck he painted to look like a U-Haul. The van he stole out of state and filed off the VIN. Both had clean throw-away plates. Didn’t need the job going south because someone spotted a stolen vehicle.
Thunder rumbled, a distant menace. It had been overcast all day, but by dusk, the clouds darkened. The air was thick with the static of an impending storm. It was only a matter of time.
I rubbed my knee, extended it, then bent it, trying to get some blood flow into the aching joint. I’d always thought people were full of shit when they said they could feel the cold and damp in their joints but tonight had me thinking maybe I was wrong.
The thing about superhuman healing is that it doesn’t work like the movies. Blood demons couldn’t be torn to shreds, twisted and broken, and then, magically, the pieces fall back into their rightful places. The laws of physics didn’t take a break because we were a different species. Tissue self-healed, for the most part. It regenerated and knitted itself back together without leaving scars. But bones and joints? The more complicated pieces of hardware? Not so easy.
Vinnie’s doctor realigned the joints and set my kneecaps in the warehouse, but the right one hadn’t healed properly. Something was off. It weakened my knee and caused a hitch in my step. A little souvenir from Vinnie Valenzano’s warehouse of horrors.
I glanced at my watch. Just past eleven thirty. Second shift started at eleven. Any minute now.
“You sure it was a good idea leaving your girl at The Dollhouse?” Dominic asked, watching the darkness behind us through the rearview mirror.
“She’s not my girl. And no, but I didn’t have another option.”
“I mean…” He eyed me sidelong. “You could let her go.”
“And you could mind your own business.”
He huffed. “You’re my capo, Luca, but you were my friend first.” He adjusted the mirror. “We’ve known each other since we were kids. I’m just lookin’ out.”
Dominic’s mom and Gina were tight, always organizing shit at the Italian American Community Club when we were kids. Dom and I spent a lot of time getting into trouble while they planned their next fundraiser or potluck. Then I moved to Italy. But we never lost the easy camaraderie that came from growing up together.
“You don’t hear me telling you what to do with Mia,” I said.
He shot me a surprised look but quickly schooled his features and resumed monitoring the mirror. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.
I snorted. “Right.”
“Besides, I didn’t kidnap Mia. Non lo so, fratello. Doesn’t seem like holding a girl hostage is gonna end well for anyone.”
Thunder clapped. Loud. Closer. I scanned the windshield. Nothing. But it was coming.
Living with Siobhán was like living inside a powder keg. The sexual tension and barely contained hostility created an incendiary situation that would explode in my face if I wasn’t careful. Tomorrow I’d start in with the questions, maybe feed her a little bullshit first to prime the pump. And as long as I stuck to my plan, everything would work out. At least, for me.
“Here we go,” Dominic said and threw the car into gear.
Semi headlights appeared in the passenger-side mirror. I looked over my shoulder through the rear windshield. The cab was full-sized and red. “Wait for confirmation.”
The truck rumbled toward us on the otherwise empty highway. The cab’s logo—a fat white circle with yellow letters that read FISHER —sped past us in a blur.
“That’s our guy,” I said. “Let’s move.”
Dom flipped on the headlights and accelerated onto the turnpike.
We approached the van where Mikey and Leo waited. Dom flashed the headlights. They turned theirs on and pulled onto the Pike behind us, two miles out from the truck’s planned exit. Mikey drifted into the passing lane and picked up speed. He crept past us and the semi before merging back into the driving lane.
Fat rain droplets blurred the bright green reflection off the exit sign a quarter mile ahead of the off-ramp. My blood pumped faster. Adrenaline drove my lungs and turned my eyes. I channeled the power to hone my focus.
A half-million dollars. A half-million dollars and the Moretti family reputation.
We escorted the unsuspecting semi off the ramp through the quickening rain and onto an empty industrial-park thoroughfare. The stoplights flashed red. A single car passed in the opposite direction at the second intersection. We pulled forward, heading for the third set of lights.
Rain pelted the windshield. No cars in either direction.
I hit the call button on my phone. It connected after one ring. “Do it,” I ordered and clicked off.
The van stopped at the blinking red lights. The semi followed suit. Dom stopped the U-Haul. I unbuckled my seat belt.
The semi’s horn blared. I jumped out of the passenger seat, pulled out my Glock, and cut between the U-Haul and the semi. Mikey threw the van in reverse. It hit the front of the semi’s cab, pinning it in place.
The truck driver opened his window. “Hey! What the fuck?” he shouted over the patter of rain.
Lightning flashed. I jumped onto the step, pulled myself up by the mirror, and pointed the gun in his face. “Hands where I can see them.”
Thunder cracked. The semi driver showed me his hands.
I tried the door. It was locked. “Unlock the door.”
He did, then shoved his hand back in the air.
I opened the door, unfastened his seat belt, and gestured to the passenger side with my gun. “Move.”
The driver slid across the seat.
“Keep those hands up.” I climbed into the cab, slammed the door, and wiped the water out of my eyes.
“Oh man,” the truck driver said, voice shaking. “I wasn’t even supposed to be on this route tonight.”
“Face the window.”
“Don’t kill me, man. I got a kid.”
“Face the fucking window,” I said more slowly.
He did, and I pistol-whipped the back of his head. He slumped in his seat. He’d be fine when he woke up, but he’d have a wicked headache.
I honked the horn. Mikey pulled the van forward through the intersection. I gave him a half-block lead, then followed, checking my side-view mirror for Dom. The U-Haul was right behind me.
The caravan turned down the next side street, a narrow access road between two warehouses, each of which spanned the entire industrial-park block. A chain-link fence topped with barbed wire surrounded the concrete loading docks. They were barely visible beneath the torrential rain blurring the flood lights. The ventilation windows at the top of the low cement-block buildings were dark.
Nausea washed over me. For weeks, the only natural light I saw in Vinnie’s warehouse came from ventilation windows just like those. I swallowed the bile and blinked the memory away.
I pulled over and turned the semi and its headlights off. The street went dark outside the diluted glow of the loading docks, but with our heightened vision, we didn’t need more. I bound the semi driver’s wrists behind his back with a cable tie, then climbed out of the cab and jogged to the back of the truck.
Dom reversed the box truck, lining the back up with the semi-trailer. Leo used a bolt cutter on the gate lock. Mikey stayed with the van as lookout.
Dom rolled up the rear door of the box truck, and Leo and I opened the semi’s trailer. Pallets topped with stacks of game consoles filled the space. Leo opened his switchblade with a snick and sliced through the plastic wrapped around the nearest pallet. Dom climbed into the back of the box truck. I stood on the ground between them. Rain hammered my head. Leo handed me a console, and I handed it to Dom.
Our supernatural speed fueled each movement, and once we fell into a rhythm, we transferred two, three consoles at a time. But five hundred boxes were nothing to shake a stick at, and the clock was ticking.
Three-quarters of the way through the cargo, sirens wailed in the distance, a faint echo beneath the pounding rain. A reminder that anyone could round the corner at any time.
“Hurry up,” I shouted. “Move!”
We picked up the pace, loading four boxes at a time. My muscles burned with effort.
I handed Dom the last of the boxes, and the roar of an engine and glare of headlights rounded the corner. The flash of a police light bar blinded me for a fraction of a second. I blinked to adjust my vision. A car sped toward us.
Another engine sounded behind me. I glanced over my shoulder. A second black-and-white barreled into view from the opposite direction, and its siren let out a single punishing yelp.
“Cazzo! Go! Go! Go!” I waved at Dom and Leo to get in the box truck.
The first police car skid to a stop.
Leo jumped from the semi-trailer directly into the back of the box truck but struggled to lift the gate. It was stuck. Dom pulled out his piece and dashed behind the box truck toward the driver-side door.
The second squad car spun sideways to a stop, sandwiching the cargo van between itself and the semi-cab.
Two cops got out of the car on my left and pointed their guns. “On the ground!” one of them shouted. “Hands behind your heads!”
I pulled out my gun and darted forward, taking aim. The cops ducked behind the car. I fired four rounds and blew out their front tires. I took cover behind the semi-trailer’s rear door just in time. The cops fired back, and the hail of bullets struck metal.
Another round of gunfire rang out through the night. Dom. He stood at the front of the fake U-Haul behind the cab, taking shots and giving the cops another target.
I peeked around the door. The cops from the first car crouched behind the front and rear bumpers. At the other end of the semi, Mikey jumped out of the van and sprinted toward us. The cops in the second car flung open their doors.
I broke my cover and fired two rounds at the first car, letting them know I hadn’t forgotten about them, then took four shots at the second car, trying to buy Mikey time.
Lightning flashed overhead. It illuminated the scene and a horrifying twist of fate. Mikey lost his footing on the slick pavement and careened forward. He landed flat on his stomach, his left arm bent at an unnatural angle.
A bullet whizzed past my head. I darted behind the trailer door, my blood pounding in my ears loud enough to drown out the rain.
They’re taking head shots.
My chest heaved. I closed my eyes and slowed my breathing.
I’m not dying here. I can’t leave ? —
“Got it!” Leo shouted. My eyes snapped open, and Leo raised the box truck’s gate.
We needed to get the fuck out of there. “Dom! Cover me!”
The gunfire picked up from behind the front of the fake U-Haul. I dashed forward.
Guns cracked. Bullets flew. I raised my piece and got off another couple rounds before yanking the passenger-side door open and launching myself into the front seat. Dom stood at the corner of the cab, relying on the angle to protect him. But as I rolled down the window to give Mikey cover, one of the cops from the first car popped up from behind the rear bumper and fired.
The first bullet hit Dom in the stomach and went clear through. It knocked him back, and as he reeled, a second bullet hit his left shoulder.
“Argh!” he screamed and stumbled behind the cab.
“Get in!” I shouted and fired back. The cop ducked behind the rear bumper.
The driver’s side door opened. I aimed my gun at the second cop car, and my stomach bottomed out.
Mikey flailed on the ground beneath the assault of the two cops from the second car. One tried to pin him with a knee in his back. He failed, no match for Mikey’s strength. Mikey pushed himself up, but the second cop brought up his gun and pointed it at Mikey’s chest.
“Fuck!”
Mikey was done. He knew better than to take a bullet point blank. He’d survive, but our secret wouldn’t, and no soldati demoni del sangue would ever betray our truth.
“Get us out of here, Dom. Now!”
The engine rumbled to life, and with one hand, Dom threw the truck into gear. He grabbed the steering wheel and slammed on the accelerator. I fired round after round as we sped away, making sure they didn’t take out our tires. I stopped once we were out of range, rolled up the window, and watched Mikey grow smaller in the passenger-side mirror.
“Cazzo!”
Dom took a hard turn and groaned. He was covered in blood, the entire front of his shirt soaked through, made worse by the rain. His breath came in short pants, and his face was pale and drawn.
“Can you make it to the Pike?”
“Yeah,” he ground out between gritted teeth.
“Do it. Then take the first exit. I’ll drive.”
He gave me a quick nod and let go of the wheel long enough to push the soaked hair off his forehead and out of his eyes.
I took out my cell phone. “Come on,” I muttered under my breath. “Pick up.”
“Yeah?” Vito’s gruff voice came across the line after the fourth ring. Thank fuck .
“They sent Dom a Message,” I said, using terms we understood but wouldn’t get flagged in a transcript. “It didn’t go through. He’s leaking pretty good.”
“Goddammit. Where?”
“Barbie’s in an hour.” Barbie’s was code for The Dollhouse.
“Yeah,” he said and hung up.
I sat back and watched the rain streak past the window. The rivulets shone like lightning under each passing streetlight. We secured the haul, and barring any further entanglements, we’d get away with it. Nothing could trace the lift back to me or Vinnie, but I felt like shit. Worry burned a hole in my gut as real as the hole in Dom’s stomach.
Dom had been shot twice and was losing a lot of blood. Ben Levine, the Valenzano doc, was always on call, but Mikey’d been pinched, was about to spend the night in the slammer. Vito’d removed a lot of bullets over the years, and he’d have been my next call anyway; Marco’s lawyers handled all blood demon arrests through the DeVita Foundation.
We still had to get the goods to the warehouse and those cops no doubt called for backup. I’d take side streets instead of the Pike after I took over driving. Less conspicuous. Leo’d move on with the cargo once we got to The Dollhouse.
The feds would get involved after a lift this big. At the very least they’d hear about it, which meant more heat. But none of that caused the rancid burn traveling up from my stomach.
I placed my hand over my parents’ names inked into the wet skin above my heart. I rubbed the space there, trying to ease the ache. That bullet whizzed right past my temple, inches from ending my immortal life. And all I could think about was who would take care of Siobhán if I was gone.