Chapter 20
ALEXEI
It’s a little after ten as I pull up to Pecora’s house. I made a pitstop at the penthouse to grab a vest, just as a precaution. While I don’t believe Pecora is the one who tried to kill me, I certainly don’t want to find out the hard way if I’m wrong.
I put the car in park as I notice another car sitting right in front of the house. It’s a black, luxury deal with all the bells and whistles from what I can see. A large man with dark hair, wearing a shiny black shirt and slacks, comes out of the house carrying a couple of bags with him.
It looks like Tony is leaving. That’s good, I think.
I hope. It’s a good time to go on vacation, and with all the money he’s made since he allied with us, I imagine it’s long overdue.
I could just sit here and watch, make sure he leaves without incident.
If he’s out of town, then he’s probably safe.
Unless somebody tries to contact him and he happens to mention where he is. No, I still need to warn him about what’s going on. Worse case, wherever he’s headed, he might have to change it just to make sure no one can track him. It’s what I would do, anyway.
I get out of the car and I straighten my shirt as Pecora’s henchman opens the trunk to put the bags in. I wonder if there are any more of his goons around here somewhere. If there are, they might be inside with him.
I know this is against protocol, but I don’t know if they know that. For all any of them knows, the alliance is still in place. I’m just a messenger coming from Mechnikov’s camp.
I don’t even get to take a step before I hear the sound of gunshots coming from the house. The goon by the car flinches, then reaches into his jacket and pulls out a gun as he races back up the walk and to the house.
Shit. It’s already going down. Am I too late? Fuck, I have to make sure he’s all right.
I grab my gun from my holster and follow the path of his goon, leaping up the porch steps, taking them two at a time.
The door’s been left swinging open and I hear shouting from inside.
Carefully, I get behind the half open door and peek around the edge.
From here, I can see part of the living room, but not much else. I hear them talking from another room.
“He’s fucking shot, you moron!” one of them yells. “We need to get him out of here!”
I push the door open a little more and I get a view of the kitchen. There’s broken glass all over the linoleum and blood smeared above some of the pieces. I hear Pecora shout, “Get me to a fucking hospital, you fuckwits!”
He’s been shot, but he’s alive. If he’s strong enough to yell, the injury might not be that bad. Hopefully, they just caught him in the arm or the leg.
So, okay. Whoever did this can’t be one of my soldiers because I haven’t given the order for it… at least it had fucking better not be one of mine. I’ve got half a mind to run around to the back of the house and try to see if I can catch the son of a bitch.
No, I need to make tracks before Pecora’s men find me here.
The last thing I need is to make everything a million times worse.
I step away from the door and put my gun back in the holster.
The second I get to the walk, I hear the door open.
I look over my shoulder just in time to see the goon who was out by the car before.
His face is shiny with sweat and now it’s twisted with rage.
“Son of a bitch!”
No time to explain that I’m not the guy he wants. I sprint for my car. Gunshots ring out and the smell of gunpowder surrounds me. Sparks fly up at my feet.
I leap into my car. Thank God I left it unlocked. I press the start button to get it started, but not before several of the bullets pepper my car’s finish.
I pull off with the sound of shouting and gunfire right behind me. Dammit. Trying to warn the bastard might have just made this entire situation worse.
“Where are you right now?”
My car is steaming outside the bar as I gaze out of the front window at it.
The view is partially married by the backward paint spelling out the name of the bar, but I can see it just fine.
It’s covered in bullet holes. Judging by the white steam tendrils coming from under the hood, I’m sure one of them got my radiator.
The bartender has been kind enough to let me use his phone, which is a great stroke of luck.
I don’t dare call Pavel on my cellphone after what just happened.
I look over at the bartender. I didn’t bother looking at the sign when I came in and now it’s all garbled from my point of few. I put the phone to my chest. “What’s the name of this place?”
“Paddy’s Bar and Grill,” he says.
“I’m at Paddy’s Bar and Grill maybe a couple of miles away from Pecora’s,” I tell Pavel. My car is done. There’s no way I’m going to drive it now and if Pecora’s boys are out looking for me, it’s probably the most identifiable vehicle on the road. I need an extraction immediately.
“Shit,” he says. He sounded tense the entire time I explained what happened to him. Now he sounds like he’s on the verge of panic. “Do you need me to come get you?”
“No, no. I’m gonna get a car service back to the house.”
He sighs. “You know Papa’s gonna find out about this any minute. He’s going to wring our necks if anybody tells him you were there.”
I don’t have anything to say because it’s true.
I was in the one place I was not supposed to be and I nearly got myself killed…
again. I’m not sure which part of this he’ll be madder at.
The fact that Pecora’s still alive or the fact that I was stupid enough to be identified by his people on the morning an attempt was made on his life.
“Alexei?”
“I’m here,” I say to him. Then in Russian, “Pavel, this was one of ours that did this.”
“Yeah… yeah, I figured.” There’s a faint beep. He pauses, then, “Shit. That’s him now. Listen, if you’re getting a car service, you might as well go ahead and head back to Papa’s house. He’s going to want to see you.”
“Maybe. I prefer to wait to see if he summons me. He’s just as likely to yell at me over the phone instead.”
“Right. Either way, stay safe, okay?”
“I will.” I hang up the phone and wipe my brow. The vest under my clothes feels heavy and is starting to ache in spots. I haven’t checked for bullet holes in my shirt, but I’m willing to bet some of those bullets got me.
“Thanks,” I tell the bartender and I walk out of the bar. Once outside, I pull out my cellphone to open the car service app. The screen changes in a flash. It’s my father.
“Hello,” I answer.
“You missed him,” he growls at me in Russian. “You missed and you were almost caught?”
I have a couple of ways I can answer this. I wasn’t supposed to be there unless it was to kill him. After all, it was me that he gave the order to.
“And what the hell were you doing there anyway?” He goes on. “You could have sent Pavel or Dmitri to do this. Or better yet, Anya. She’s a better shot than all of you put together. Why would you try to do this yourself?”
“It wasn’t me,” I confess. He needs to know that we have a renegade among us. Better now that later. “Someone else acted without orders, Papa.”
He goes quiet for a moment. “No one would dare act without my explicit order. Or yours. Why are you trying to cast off the blame? Is it because they saw you and now know you were the one to try and take him out?”
“It wasn’t me, Papa.”
“Then why the hell would you be there in the first place? What other business could you have had with Tony Pecora?”
I was thinking I’d warn him to keep what happened from actually happening, that’s all.
“I was on my way there,” I lie. Dammit. I know he always sees through me when I try to deceive him.
It’s not getting through to him, though.
“I just parked the car when I heard the commotion, so I got out to check to see if everybody’s all right. Then they came after me.”
He goes quiet, and I can already see the veins popping in his forehead in my mind’s eye.
It’s a weak lie and we both know it. “Is that what you want me to believe?” he says slowly, like a screw turning.
“My son, who I trained, let someone else get the drop on him? Is that the story you’re going with? ”
An icy chill turns my already nauseous stomach. I can’t respond. Nothing I say can make this better.
“For your information,” he says, “Tony Pecora went to the nearest hospital for his injuries. You’d better hope that he doesn’t make it. It might be the only thing keeping me from wringing your neck for fucking this up.”
A flash of anger rushes through me, but I clench my teeth to push it down.
“But make no mistake now, Alexei. We are at war with the Pecora family. I would suggest you head home and make sure your wife stays right where she is. Things might get dangerous for her if she’s on the streets today.”
That sounds like a threat and I don’t like it. Before I can stop myself, I say, “Are you threatening her?”
He chuckles, and it’s a low kind of sinister rumble. “In the old days, somebody would have to pay for this kind of fuck up. Fingers and toes might be lost. Sometimes, wives and children would come up missing.”
“This isn’t the old days,” I tell him.
“No. No, it’s not. Just the same, I would keep an eye on her right now. It would be a true tragedy if a stray bullet took another one from you.”
He hangs up before I can respond and I almost throw my phone. I grip it instead and kick the tire on my dead car. Then I take a few breaths and open that app for the car service.
No matter what, I need to get home to Isabella. Things are about to blow up.