22. Tito
22
TITO
T he car bumps over some rough pavement with Tony at the helm. It's late. There are at least a dozen cars in the caravan behind us looking like a march to war. We're headed to the front lines of this war, the edge of my territory where it butts up to the Uhkovs’ drug houses.
I'm taking Sal's advice for the most part, though I've sent a few cars into Peralta territory too. I hear my enemies aren't being kind to my allies now on account of the way I've married the Peralta princess. I'm just protecting my investments there. Sal thinks that's a mistake, but if I do anything less than this, Hector Peralta will take on more than he can handle, and I can't handle being married to a sinking ship. It's going to be mine. That's just a matter of time. I don't want it damaged.
"So, you heard from the DA today?" Vinny, seated next to me in the back with his gun in his lap, chews a big wad of chewing tobacco, pushing it into his lip firmly with his tongue.
"Aaron did, yes. The DA is willing to cut a deal, no jail time, but that's not enough. I'm under a fucking microscope, and here we are, marching off to push men off what is rightfully mine. This isn’t going to end well."
My dad knows what he's doing. He's been doing this for long enough that I should trust him, but his health is going quickly and my life is on the line. I can't help but feel like he may make a mistake in the way he does things, and it makes me want to take control. But with Carlos reaching for power, putting a bug in my father's ear to sour him against me, I can't do anything to upset him.
I love my brother, and I see how he will be a good asset in the future if he can be rehabilitated. It's natural for brothers to fight over the inheritance. Carlos will get his fair share—the money, the businesses, the realty. But I’ve always known that what he really wants are the authority and power. Something is going on with him and I can't figure out what. At first, I thought it was something to do with Aria, but now I'm not sure. She seems to want to be as far away from him as possible.
"No jail, that's good," Tony chimes in, glancing at me in the rearview mirror. His eyes are full of mirth, though at a time like this, they should be full of anger. Our men have been slaughtered by our enemy several times, and we're on the hunt tonight. But Tony is as loyal as they come, and as far as supporters within this family, he's got my back one hundred percent.
"Yes it is, but it's not enough. Dad will continue to work with Aaron to get me cleared of all wrongdoing, even if he has to slip some of my inheritance to them. And when it's all over, he'll share his secrets with me so that one day, I can do the same for myself and others."
The lights outside the car blur past as I delve into deep thought. It feels hollow to talk about my father like that, to tell my loyal men that one day, he will be just a memory. It brings up rage at life itself and the cruelty of death, the finality of it all. I tap into that anger as Tony turns the car down the street toward our destination. It's that rage coupled with the anger over why I'm in this situation to begin with that will fuel this night.
I've not figured out yet who tipped off the police about the money laundering, but I'm glad it's turning into mostly an embarrassment and not anything full-blown. Even then, Dad would have found a way to get me out of it. It would just have cost more. And it probably would have been the throne I paid with. I'll find out, though, and when I do, the person who gave up info on me will pay dearly.
"There," Vinny says, pointing. "That's where the last of them were found. They shot three of our guys in cold blood, shoved two women into their van, and later, we found the women beaten but alive." Vinny runs this neighborhood for me, and he shepherds his flock here. The men who were killed were very close to him, ones he personally trained. And the women were like sisters, bonded in blood.
"Then we go here. I've always told Carlos that the Russians having their front line directly across from ours would be a problem. They're scared now, of us joining with the Peraltas. It makes us almost invincible." I pull out my gun as the car rolls to a stop, but Tony's phone rings.
He pulls it from his pocket and answers it, and I listen to his side of the conversation.
"Hey… Yeah, why? Of course…. They are? How many? No, stay… We've got this." A dozen pairs of headlights join us, filling the street outside the old theater whose dilapidated marquee flashes with several bulbs broken or missing.
"Who was it?" I ask when he hangs up.
"It's Sal. He said Hector's men are fighting with us… At least forty of them." Tony's eyebrows rise, and he shrugs. No one expects the Peralta family to be very strong with the shit they've been through lately, but I am impressed. They won't be taken easily.
"Let's go" I bark, and I open the door and step out.
I read once that kings allow their troops to go into battle and lead from behind. In doing so, they protect the monarchy and ensure their people have a leader if the battle fails. I'm not that king. I march with determination into the front of the theater followed by my nearly fifty men who are armed and ready to defend me and themselves.
We barely get past the ticket counter when I hear shouting and doors slamming. I’m not sure what sort of an operation they have going in here, but it reeks of chemicals. It's dark too, like they purposefully keep the lights off so people will think the building is empty or abandoned. So with guns drawn, we move toward the shouting. If Alexsander Uhkov wants a war, I'll bring one to him.
"There." I point with the tip of my gun down a side hallway leading who knows where, and a few men head that direction. A few of my guys move to the right toward a closed door, while others clear the bathrooms. I continue to move to the main theater doors, and Tony opens one to me.
We take them by surprise. They scramble when the doors are thrown open. I have my gun out ready to fire, but I take in what I'm looking at first. A grow room full of varying forms of plants. Hydroponics have been constructed, large solar lamps—the Russians have craftily discovered a way around my roadblocks for their drug rings, which means the stench in the lobby is downdraft from their cooking room, probably upstairs.
"Show's over!" I shout, and the first rounds ring out. My men rush in, flanking me on the right and left. We stoop behind old metal theater seating that hasn't been removed and aim toward the large area down front where the chairs were torn up and Alexsander's men built their grow room.
The sound is deafening, at least forty guns discharging rapidly. It's adrenaline-inducing. My pulse races as I creep forward row by row, pushing closer to their plants where I can see more clearly what I'm dealing with. I watch men fall to the left and right. One of mine goes down, and there's little I can do to save him. I rise and fire, then duck and wait. It draws the ire of the enemy my way, allowing my men to advance.
Our mission is simple—to destroy as many Russians as we can without losing any of our men. So we're already partially failing, but I can't just kill them. I have to hurt their organization too. They took out three of our women, which means a decrease in cash flow from their hooking. It's only fair that they limp if we're limping.
"The plants!" I order, and my men know what I mean. Three of them charge forward and begin destroying the grow operation. I lay cover fire for them, buying them enough time to destroy over half the plants, until one of them gets hit in the hip. He goes down, and the others drop with him, hiding behind one of the tables.
"You're going down, Ramiro," I hear from somewhere, and then I smell smoke.
The gunshots don't let up, either. More bullets hail from everywhere. It's so loud I can't tell where until something strikes my arm and I scream in pain. I'm shot, from someone behind me. I cower between the rows of seats to assess how bad it is, but I can still move my arm for now, so it's not too bad.
"Fucker!" Tony shouts and lets off a blast of rounds. "Got him, Boss." It's time. We'll all be slaughtered here in their home if we don't go soon.
I survey the damage done. At least twenty Russians on the ground, three of our own. While I was assessing my injury, the guys managed to decimate another twenty plants, leaving the Russians with only one fourth of their original operation. It will take them months to recover and grow those plants to size again. I'd say that's a win.
"Move out now!" I order, and I don't have to say it twice.
I'm not sure how many of my men who moved off down that hallway have been hurt, but I'm hoping it's none. We fall back quickly now that our message is sent, and as we do, I know they'll give chase. In fact, I'm aware that they will probably increase their pressure on us now, but I'll be ready.
At the car, I climb in, feeling a bit lightheaded. I'm bleeding harder than I thought I was. I won't die, but I'm gonna need a few days. "Take me home…" I tell Tony, and I let my eyes shut as I hear four car doors slam. Message sent. Now we wait.