Chapter 42
FRANCISCO
Irun out the back door knowing that I’m probably already too late. At the back of the warehouse, there’s a short alley. I turn left because I have to pick a direction. My gun is in my hand, but I don’t have a target.
I can still hear bullets firing behind me, but I’m laser focused on finding my prey. Carlo Andretti is going to pay for what he’s done, and I’m going to be the one to take him down. No one kidnaps my wife and gets away with it.
Pounding the pavement, I’m thankful that I’m still in good shape.
Plenty of men my age aren’t, and that could be a real handicap in a fight.
I come to an intersection. On one side is a wire fence, and on the other is Andretti’s warehouse.
Across a narrow street are two other buildings.
If I go left, I’ll come out to the parking lot, but if I turn right, it looks like there’s an empty field.
Andretti, coward that he is, won’t chance moving past my men. He’s going to try hiding in whatever scrub brush or dirt mound he can find. But I won’t let him.
“Andretti!” I yell, hoping to draw him out.
Giovanni skids to a halt beside me. I hadn’t even realized he was after chasing me.
We confer for a moment before both turning right.
The asphalt changes to dust beneath my feet.
There are no trees, but the weeds have grown into bushes.
There are a thousand places for the bastard to hide, and I know he’s armed.
I hear a shot, and I duck. I’m not looking to get killed.
That would leave Marlena completely exposed, and I can’t risk that.
Giovanni scurries behind one bushes, his pistol drawn.
He motions toward his right, and I get the gist. He thinks Andretti is hiding that way, based on the sound of the bullet as it soared by us.
I nod, understanding the play. We’re going to circle around and hopefully catch him in the middle. I go left, racing from one bush to the next. I lose sight of Giovanni, but I’m sure he’s doing the same thing on his side. I still don’t see Andretti, and I don’t hear any more gunshots.
“Andretti!” I yell, unable to help myself. I’m so furious, I can’t see straight. Stealth is not my main objective. I would be much more comfortable doing this all out in the open, but of course, that isn’t an option with Andretti hiding like the coward he is.
I fire my gun in the air, hoping to spook the bastard out into the open. It works. Andretti takes off running. I spy him from across the vacant lot and turn to shoot. Giovanni opens fire as well, and Andretti goes down.
I hurry over to where he should have fallen. But when I get there, Andretti is gone.
“What the fuck?” I mutter, turning to Giovanni in confusion.
“I thought I got him,” Giovanni complains.
“Me too,” I reply.
All of a sudden, a car comes barreling through the fence at the opposite side of the lot. It plows through the overgrown weeds, its chassis thumping. The rear window descends, and I can see the barrel of a rifle protruding from the interior.
“Get down!” I shout, hitting the ground.
Giovanni dives down right beside me, and we roll away like two combat veterans. I hear a car door open and look up just in time to see Andretti jumping into the passenger seat. He’s getting away.
I fire as many shots as I can at the tires, hoping to force the driver to abandon his rescue attempt. But I miss, and most of my shots hit the hubcaps. The car does a donut, barreling out of the lot the same way it came in.
I chase after it, firing off the last of my rounds until my gun is empty. I’ll be forced to go back around to the front of the warehouse to get my car if I want to give chase. And by then, it will be too late. Andretti will have escaped and gone to ground in whatever safe house he has lined up.
“Francisco!” a voice shouts.
I turn around, not expecting to see Marcello. He’s burned his bridge but there he is, standing in the middle of the lot as if he’s on my side. I don’t know where he came from or why he thinks he can pull the wool over my eyes again, but I’m not going to stand for it.
I raise my weapon and fire it point-blank.
But I’m out of bullets, and all I hear is a metallic click.
Marcello smiles at me. We’re standing right out in the open now, and there’s nowhere I can turn for cover.
He’s got me, and he knows it. As he raises his weapon, the facade he’s been hiding behind finally vanishes.
I can see him for who he truly is, someone who fooled me and my father, before me.
“I thought of you like family!” I shout, furious that he’s betrayed me, betrayed the family that gave him everything.
“Truly! Is that what you really think? If I was your family, I wouldn’t get your scraps when you have a fortune,” Marcello spits.
“Is that what this is about?” I demand. “Money?”
“Isn’t that what it’s always about?” Marcello counters.
“How long have you been working for Andretti?” I shout.
“Long enough,” he says matter-of-factly, like that’s not important when that’s the farthest thing from the truth.
“Then what was all that about a mole in my organization?” I question, trying to fit all the pieces together.
I need to know. I need answers almost as much as I need to keep him talking so I can figure out how I’m going to get out of this alive.
I have too much to live for. “Why turn me on to your own betrayal?”
Marcello shrugs. “It was Andretti’s idea.
He wanted to see if you would be able to figure out who was on his payroll.
Turns out you couldn’t, and well, I finally had enough.
I had enough of following your orders, of being your little lap dog.
Taking your little wife was just a bonus.
Not that any of that matters now because you are going to die. I bet you never saw that coming.”
I think about Marlena, and how that one pure relationship has changed my life.
In such a short span of time, she’s made me see what really matters.
I have to admit, I’m not angry that Andretti has challenged my authority.
I’m not angry that he crossed a line or insulted my family’s honor.
I’m scared that my wife came so close to losing her life, and more importantly, that I came that close to losing someone I care deeply about.
“You’re going to pay for what you’ve done,” I swear.
“Oh, really?” he taunts me. “That seems a bit premature considering that I’ve got a weapon and you don’t.”
Just then, Giovanni charges from behind Marcello, knocking him to the ground. I spring into action, kicking Marcello as they writhe around in the dirt. I want to choke the life out of him with my bare hands, and no one is going to stand in my way.
Giovanni cries out. I kicked him instead by accident. I crouch beside them in an attempt to pull them apart, but Marcello is a slippery one. He kicks me in the shoulder, and I fall back on my ass. Giovanni rears up, punching Marcello in the face, but even that doesn’t stop him.
The gun goes off, and time seems to stand still for a minute.
I half expect someone to clutch their heart in agony, but it seems that no one was hurt.
Giovanni grabs Marcello’s gun hand, attempting to rip it away.
I stomp on the man’s knee, hearing the first blessed scream coming from the traitor’s mouth.
But even though he’s hurt, he’s not down for the count.
He pushes away, hobbling once before coming back with a vengeance.
Marcello straddles Giovanni, digging his weapon into my brother’s temple. “Step back!” he spits, foaming at the mouth. “Step back, or I swear I’ll kill him!”
I freeze, my mind a jumbled mess of frantic thoughts. I don’t want Giovanni to die. Yes, I want my revenge, but not at the cost of my brother. That’s one price I’m not willing to pay. Giovanni looks up at me, and I see something in his eyes that I’ve never seen before, fear. He’s scared.
“Cisco,” Giovanni says plaintively, like he’s already given up. Like he knows I’m going to choose my revenge over him.
Marcello sneers at my silence, twisting the barrel of the gun against Giovanni’s head. “Do you see how he is? He’s got no loyalty.”
I don’t know what to do. The look in Giovanni’s eyes is torture, but can I really let Marcello get away?
Luckily, Marcello decides he values his life more.
He knows I wouldn’t really let him hurt Giovanni and doesn’t want to risk it.
He climbs up, weapon still pointed down at my brother. He begins to back away.
Giovanni exhales, expressing relief too soon when we are not out of the woods yet. I set my sights on the traitor and charge, intending to tackle him or die trying. I hear the gun go off again, mentally prepared for the pain. But I’m hit from behind.
Giovanni slams into me, forcing me to the ground. I cry out in anger and frustration, shoving my brother off me. By the time I regain my balance, Marcello is running away.
“No!” I shout, unwilling to allow both of my sworn enemies to escape.
A bullet digs into the ground at my feet, causing me to halt. As crazed as I am right now, the sight is sobering. I turn on my brother, my anger getting the better of me.
“Why did you do that!” I shout.
“What are you talking about?” he demands, rising to his feet and brushing his knees off. “You were going to get shot!”
“I could have handled it!” I grit out.
“Really?” he snaps, angrier than I’ve ever seen him before. “Forgive me for not realizing that you’re bulletproof!”
“You let him get away!” I yell.
“No!” Giovanni screams, getting up in my face. “He got away! There’s a difference.”
“Don’t you talk to me like that,” I warn him, taking a step back.
“Why?” he demands. “Are you going to kick me again?”
I take a deep breath, realizing that I’m on the losing team.
Both of my targets escaped, and I’m left arguing with my brother in an open field.
It’s not his fault. He was just trying to protect me.
I close my eyes to allow the calm of the late afternoon sun to infiltrate my senses, regaining my composure.
When I open my eyes again, I can see that I’ve come close to damaging one of the most important relationships in my life.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“Damned right,” he swears, turning away from me to walk back to the warehouse.
I can’t hear the sounds of the battle anymore. It’s likely that the conflict is over, and that Marlena needs my help. I can’t be sure that my men have won, although in the short amount of time I had to gauge the scene, it appeared that we had a numerical advantage.
“Giovanni!” I yell.
“What?” he snaps, turning around to glare at me.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat, striding toward him.
He looks away, coming down from his adrenaline high.
I can see that he’s realized he overstepped his bounds.
There are strict rules about communication within our family, and even blood relations aren’t allowed to ignore them.
I’m the Don, and he’s my second in command. It doesn’t matter what happens.
By way of apology, he presses a hand to his side. “You kick hard,” he mutters.
I put a hand on his shoulder. “You knocked the wind out of me.”
“I guess we’re even,” Giovanni says with a smile.
We’re good again; it didn’t take long. I turn my attention back to the warehouse. Holstering my useless weapon, I hurry back down the alley toward the crime scene. I decide it would be better to come to the warehouse from the front. The door is much larger, and we’ll have the damaged car for cover.
We hustle around to the parking lot to find several of Carmine’s men getting ready to drive away. I glance back at the warehouse and can see a few bodies littering the ground. Marlena is nowhere in sight.
“Where’s my wife?” I demand.
“Luca took her back to the house, sir,” one soldier tells me in Italian.
“Take me there,” I command, climbing into the back of the car.
Giovanni crowds in behind me, and the driver takes off.
I notice that a few of the men no longer have a place to sit.
They’ll be sitting ducks when the cops get here, but that’s not my main concern right now.
They’re resourceful, and I trust them to get out of there in time.
What I want is a reunion with my wife and my son.
I want to hold them in my arms, to know that they are unharmed.
We arrive fifteen agonizing minutes later, and I’m out of the car before the driver puts on the brakes. Marlena comes running down the front porch steps, her arms wide open. I scoop her up, soothing my heartache with her soft curves.
She’s alive and well, frazzled but whole.
“I’m so sorry,” she sobs. “I’m so sorry.”
“No,” I soothe her, smoothing the strands of sweat-soaked hair from her eyes. “No. I’m just glad you’re alright.”
I kiss her forehead, unable to understand the great rush of words that are tumbling from her mouth. I put an arm around her shoulders and guide her inside. Frankie is sitting in the living room, drinking scotch. He looks like he’s been through a war, and I can’t blame him. I’m sure I look the same.
Momentarily leaving Marlena by herself, I step up to my boy. He rises to greet me and opens his mouth to give an excuse. I simply hug him, not caring about anything other than the fact that he’s alive.
When we pull apart, he starts in on the apologizing too. “I’m sorry, Dad,” he says.
“No,” I remind him. “All that matters is that you’re safe.”
I return to Marlena’s side because she looks like she needs an anchor.
I put my arm around her again, intending to take her upstairs and get her into the shower.
We all need to relax, and the best way I know to accomplish that is by cleaning up.
Frankie holds up his cup, indicating that he needs a few more drinks before doing anything else.
I give him a knowing smile. He may not be a soldier, but he’s shown me today that he’s got the courage of a lion.
“Wait, wait,” Marlena says, extracting herself from my embrace.
I look at her studiously, wondering if there is some minor injury I’ve missed.
“What about my brother?” she asks.
“Where is he?” I respond. I forgot all about her brother in all the chaos, the cause of this whole debacle.
“He’s upstairs,” she says. “They put him in a guest room.”
I look at Frankie, who shrugs. I can see that he’s done for the moment. I pull out my phone, taking charge as I always do. I put in a call to my private doctor, a man who knows how to be discreet.
“How soon can you get here?” I ask.
“I’m on my way,” he says. He knows better than to ask anything else over the phone.