Chapter 38
Maximo
When I step out on the balcony of our suite the next morning, there’s a stillness in the air, the kind that comes before a winter storm.
I’m on my phone double-checking everything with Spicy, the routes his men will take, how much time to give me before the fake police units arrive, even how to run their lights and sirens as they come through the junkyard gates. Nothing can be left to chance.
I’m not na?ve enough to think that my plan will go off without a hitch.
Salvatore and his Bratva buddies may be laying their own ambush for me.
But if I can catch them off guard with my ruse and get the Volkovs isolated, I can end this war today.
I’ve been in this life long enough to know that there are no certainties.
One wrong move, one hesitation, and everything collapses.
Constance asked me to order breakfast before she disappeared into the shower.
When I hear the knock at the door, I pick up the pistol that Tony brought along in the overnight bag and rack it before going to the door.
I leave the swing-bar locked in place and crack the door to make sure it’s just the hotel staff in the hall.
When I see that it’s a small, elderly woman I tell her, “Just leave it there for me please,” before passing her a twenty-dollar bill through the gap.
“Of course, sir, thank you,” she replies with a small bow of her head before heading back towards the elevators.
I wait until I can no longer hear her feet on the carpeted floor before opening the door the rest of the way and peeking outside, then bringing in the cart.
I know I’m being paranoid. The only people that know where we’re staying are Leonard, Tony, and Spicy.
For now, though, that’s still three people too many.
While I have him on my mind, I call Leonard to make sure he’s still ready to accompany us today.
“Good morning, Maximo,” he greets me. His voice sounds worn, brittle, carrying the weight of a grief that no man should have to endure.
“How are you holding up, Leonard? Do you need any help making the funeral arrangements?”
“Your mother has been helping me. She came over to the house yesterday to deal with the contractor and his work crew. They’re already cleaning up the mess.
She’s taking me over to the funeral home and we…
well, you know.” The old man coughs to cover up the emotion in his voice, and I hear him take a drink.
“Sorry about that,” he says a moment later.
“You don’t have to come with us today, Leonard. I can get Tony to drive us over to the junkyard. He can get the rest of Enzo’s crew together to join us.”
“No!” Leonard barks it out on a cough. “No, I want to be there. I want to face the men who did this to our family. It wasn’t just your mother that came by.
Your uncle Phillip showed up looking for you.
He’s a mess over his boy Luca. Your mother and I talked to him, and he wants to have Luca’s funeral with Enzo’s.
We’re all family, so I told him that was fine. ”
“I’m sorry you have to deal with that, Leonard, but thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. Making these arrangements keeps my mind off things. Staying busy helps keep the grief from chewing me apart.”
I know how he feels. I’m distracting myself by making my plans for vengeance and burying myself in Constance to try to avoid the guilt and horror of losing Enzo and Luca. “Did you hear anything from any of Ricky’s people?”
“No, Spicy is looking into that and making arrangements for Ricky. From what I understand, he didn’t have any immediate family, other than the crew.”
“That’s even more heartbreaking, in a way.
” I sigh. “I’ll make sure Spicy has everything he needs to give Ricky a proper send off.
If you’re certain you’re up for it, then swing by the hotel and pick us up around noon.
Call all of Enzo’s crew. They’ll want to come to the junkyard in Brooklyn to be a part of this.
Tell them to be there by one-thirty. I want to get out there early to make sure Salvatore and his buddies don’t try to set up any surprises. ”
“I’ll be there. I’ve loaded up a few weapons in the trunk, just in case. Did Tony bring you and Constance any body armor?”
“No, just clothes and some supplies. Bring the vests that fit under clothes, not the big bulky ones. No need to make it look like we’re showing up for war. This is supposed to just be a mediation.”
“I’ll get everything we need and see you soon. Goodbye, Maximo.”
“Bye, Leonard, talk to you soon.”
As soon as I disconnect the call Constance steps out of the bathroom. She’s wrapped in a bathrobe and has her hair piled up in a towel on her head.
“How is everything this morning?” she asks as she begins uncovering the breakfast plates. The color drains from her cheeks as she uncovers a platter of bacon, and the smell fills the room.
“Leonard said my mother is helping him with the funeral arrangements. He’ll be here at noon to pick us up with some armor. Are you okay? You look like something spooked you.”
“I’m fine,” she grits out through clenched teeth before picking up a glass of orange juice and sipping at it. “It’s nerves. My stomach’s been off all morning.”
I nod in understanding. “After my father passed away, and I first took over the family business, I used to have a terrible time eating. Sometimes I wouldn’t be able to stomach anything for days.”
“Then you understand.” She gives me a wan smile as she picks up a piece of toast to nibble at a corner.
“So, Leonard is going to bring vests? Those things are so uncomfortable; the way they compress my breasts is aggravating. Still, I’d rather have it and not need it, then not have it and get shot again. ”
I snort as I pick up a slice of bacon and devour it, suddenly realizing I’m ravenous.
As I dig into the plates of food, I look at Constance and remind her, “Don’t forget what I said.
You stay in the truck. I’m going to park it so that if things go sideways, you just have to press the gas and drive straight out of there.
You don’t look back. You head back to the house. Do you understand me?”
Her lips press in a thin line of discontent. I’m not sure if it’s for my words, or if it’s still just the food offending her. Either way, she eventually gives me a curt nod.
I don’t believe her, of course. Not for a second. And that very willfulness is one of the things that I wouldn’t change about her even if I could.
The junkyard looms before us, rusting towers of twisted steel and flattened cars. To anyone else it’s scrap metal and rust. To me, it’s a graveyard that’s buried more enemies than any cemetery in the city.
The on-site supervisor opens the gate without question when Leonard pulls up and beeps the horn. He knows better than to ask what this meeting is about.
Constance sits in the SUV beside me, her body full of tension. She’s too quiet. I can practically feel her anger humming beneath her skin like a live wire.
“Park so we’re facing out towards the gate,” I instruct Leonard before turning my attention to Constance.
“Remember what I told you. You stay here, in the driver’s seat. If everything goes well, you’ll join me once the Volkovs are secured. If it doesn’t, you get the hell out.”
“And you need to be careful.” She grips my arm tightly and pulls me over to her for a kiss. “I know you have a plan, but these people are dangerous…”
I interrupt her with another kiss. “So am I, firefly,” I whisper against her lips. “Now, watch my back and see why I’ve been on top of the family for all these years.”
Just before 2 p.m., a white Bentley Bentayga pulls through the gate that I ordered the supervisor to leave open for our guests.
The windows are too heavily tinted for me to make out who is inside, but I have no doubt that this is Il Diavolo Bianco himself.
I brace myself to leap back into the Escalade at the first sign of trouble, but the Bentley cruises right past us and into the junkyard.
It prowls through the stacks, going back and forth across the yard until finally pulling up by the row of trucks Enzo’s surviving crew arrived in earlier.
There are a dozen men with me, none of them openly carrying a weapon, but all with pistols close at hand.
A moment later the smiling devil, Salvatore Bianchi, throws open the passenger door of the Bentley and steps out with his arms spread wide in greeting.
“Maximo and Leonard too! I apologize for being overly cautious, but my associates were concerned that your choice of locales might be some sort of ambush. You’ve certainly brought quite a few people with you. You’re not planning anything drastic, I hope?”
As he pulls his phone out of his pocket and sends a text, his driver gets out of the car holding a security wand.
Another of his associates opens the rear door and steps out, this one holding a laptop computer that he opens on the hood of the Bentley, before pulling up a window that appears to be a conference call.
Salvatore’s driver makes a show of waving the wand over himself, the man at the computer, and then Salvatore himself, before finally turning to me. “We’re here as mediators. We’re not armed, as you can see.”
“Am I supposed to find that reassuring? Where are the Volkovs, Salvatore?” I demand.
“Maximo, please ask dear Constance to step out of the truck. She’s an important part of our discussions, after all,” Salvatore says as he smiles at me.
“No, I don’t think so. And I’m only going to ask politely one more time. Where the hell are the Volkovs? If this is an ambush, if you’ve double-crossed me again…”