10. Roman
TEN
Roman
I don’t like that Lucas thought I was upset with him. When we were captive together, life was so much simpler. Feelings were simpler. It was easy enough, most of the time, to communicate without words.
But our life is getting more and more complicated, and I need more and more words to deal with it. And the more words I need, the fewer I seem to have.
But I don’t know how I could have talked to him about this. Besides, talking is what created this problem in the first place. At least, talking to Vitali.
The conversation I had with him is why he didn’t want me here tonight at the old Constantine gym, waiting for Joe’s crew to grab Alesso, who was spotted going into his father’s house. I let Vitali see that I was struggling, and he decided to keep me out of everything.
Except … that’s not really true. Vitali had already seen that I was struggling.
He saw it when I locked myself in the cell that I’m now standing across the room from. And before that even, when I acted so fucking weird after we dealt with the DiMaggios in the alley.
There was a time in my life that I was good at hiding things. I hid a lot of my drinking. I hid a lot of my feelings.
But then I was in the prison and there was nowhere to hide. There was no place to put fear or shame or anger. You learned what you could wear on your skin and what you had to let go of. In some ways, it was a relief. So many unwanted things fell away from me.
But now those things are coming back, and I’ve lost the knack of hiding them.
“They’ve got him,” Vitali says from where he’s sitting on the ratty old couch with Quinn.
From this underground space, there’s a door to a concealed stairway that will let us out through a trapdoor behind the building.
The plan is to get Alesso in the cell, then we slip out the back and take our positions around the building.
When the DiMaggios arrive, expecting to surprise us, we’ll take out every single one. No one can escape .
Vitali and Quinn stand from the couch and start strapping on their bulletproof vests over their compression shirts.
Vitali has gotten a lot more paranoid about someone getting hurt.
Apparently, he had vests for all of us that night we went after the DiMaggios in the alley, but I acted too fast and there was no time to put them on.
“Roman, put your vest on,” Vitali says.
“I can’t move in it.” He had me try it on earlier. I didn’t like it.
“Fucking put it on.”
He wants to throw it at me, but he controls himself because he doesn’t know how I’d react. I don’t know either.
He’s so cautious with me. I don’t know what to make of it. Vitali isn’t a cautious person. He’s aggressive and dominant. We used to fight a lot. With words. With fists.
But I keep thinking about how I went to his office and talked to him. I would never have talked to him like that in the past. It’s made me feel strange about him, like there’s something I’m supposed to realize or say, something that would make everything make sense.
But I can’t figure it out. My head is too cluttered, and I don’t like that he was keeping things from me. I’m upset about that, and it’s in the way of other thoughts. Would he and Quinn have come here tonight without even telling me? This is the one thing I’m actually good for.
Maybe Vitali thinks I’ll get confused .
Maybe I will. Maybe he should put a shock collar on me, just in case.
But what he wants me to put on is that bulletproof vest.
I walk over to the water-stained coffee table where it’s waiting.
I pick it up. Quinn is checking his guns, making a point of being busy and uninvolved.
Vitali, on the other hand, is standing on the other side of the coffee table from me, watching me intently.
I put on the vest over my black t-shirt and tighten the straps.
It feels horrible, worse than the boxing gloves Lucas always wants me to wear. It’s bulky and stiff. It’s in my way.
But Vitali relaxes and stops staring at me. He pulls out his phone and checks the cameras. He starts texting, probably updating Sasha at the house. He checks the cameras again then tells Quinn that it’s time.
We already have several men outside in vehicles, but Quinn is to go ahead of me and Vitali to open the trapdoor for those of us on foot.
As Quinn turns to leave, Vitali catches his elbow.
Quinn comes back. Their kiss is brief but intense.
They’re worried about each other, but I won’t let anything happen to either of them.
That’s why I’m upset that Vitali didn’t want me here.
Quinn heads for the door to the hidden stairwell while Vitali goes to open the other door, the one that leads to the main part of the gym. Lots of boots are tromping down the stairs, then Joe comes in with a gun at Alesso DiMaggio’s back. The rest of Joe’s crew follows.
I go to the cell door and punch in the code. The lock clicks, and I haul the door open for Joe.
“Fuck you all,” Alesso spits as he limps forward. There’s a large bloodstain on his pantleg. His nose is bleeding too.
He tries to stop in the cell doorway, like people always do. Joe shoves him, sending him stumbling into the cell.
“Fuck you,” Alesso says again, but it’s quieter this time. He’s given up. He’s been in hiding for months. He never had much hope, and now he has none. This is the end for him and he knows it. He’ll never leave this cell.
As I close the door, I can’t help but think about Lucas being in here with me. I hate that I allowed it, even for a short time. It wasn’t the solution that it felt like it should be. Cells aren’t good. They aren’t safe.
From the outside, I can see that.
I close the door. It’ll be Vitali who opens it again, Vitali who kills Alesso. I haven’t killed in cold blood in so long. I can’t even imagine it.
Vitali checks his phone again then stows it.
He leads the way to the back door. I let Joe and his crew go ahead of me.
I don’t want all these men at my back in the dark.
They probably don’t want me at theirs either, but they have to deal with it.
I follow everyone into the dark stairwell.
At the top, there’s a square of the city’s lighter darkness, plus a partial view of Quinn’s silhouette .
We move quietly upward and emerge through the trapdoor into the parking lot.
Quinn lowers the steel door and rolls the dumpster back over it.
The DiMaggios undoubtedly scouted this location after I exposed it, but the cameras never picked them up, so they didn’t come close enough to discover the trapdoor. They’ll think we’re still inside.
I could never have come up with this plan. I don’t think like this. But Vitali is good at it.
A plan, however, can only shape the conflict, like a fence or a wall shapes a fighting ring. Within that space, it’s just instinct and viciousness.
I go to my assigned location at the east corner of the building with Vitali.
Quinn and Joe are at the west corner, and the rest of Joe’s crew is fanning out farther.
There are two men already on the roof and four others in vehicles ready to box the DiMaggios in.
This is everyone, all of us but Sasha, who agreed to stay back with Lucas. Vitali really wants this finished.
It takes a while, but they come, just like Vitali said they would. They roll up in three black vans, headlights off. They stop outside the gym, engines idling. Then the van doors slide open, and over a dozen armed men get out.
When they reach the front of the gym, our crew in vehicles comes roaring in from the side streets. The DiMaggio men shout and start running back to the vans—and we start firing .
One of the vans tries to pull away, but our cars slam into the vans, front, side, and rear, boxing them in.
The guns are noise-suppressed, but there’s a lot of shouting. This is an old, industrial part of the city, which buys us some time before the noise draws attention, but we don’t have forever.
Brick chips by my face. I duck back then lean out to fire again. Vitali is crouched below me. I’m half straddling him and brushing him every time I move. I hate it so much, but it’s the only way for both of us to actively shoot while using the building’s protection.
Vitali draws back to reload his gun. His elbow bumps my knee as he works. I don’t let myself react to it. I want to react. I feel it under my skin. But I stay focused.
The remaining DiMaggio men make it back to their vans. Vitali and I close in from our side, Quinn and Joe from theirs. We outnumber the DiMaggios now, but they have cover and we don’t, and our snipers can no longer help us.
Vitali and I reach the van nearest us. I try the sliding side door, but it’s locked.
Two of our men get to the driver’s door on the other side.
The driver is dead, slumped against the wheel.
Our guys get that door open. They’re met with gunfire, but they manage to hit the unlock button.
I yank open the sliding door while Vitali fires into the van’s dark interior as their noise-suppressed shots patter out from inside.
Behind me, an engine roars, and the middle van jumps the curb. It rocks and nearly overturns but makes it onto the sidewalk, trying to get around the blockade.
The side door slides open. I’m moving before I even see the gun because I know it’s coming and I know where it’s going to aim. I get in the way. The bullet hits my chest like a punch, but I’ve been hit so much harder than that.
I catch hold of the edge of the sliding door and use it launch myself forward. With my other hand, I grab the shooter and yank him from the van. He yelps as he goes tumbling onto the sidewalk, where I know Vitali will deal with him.