Charged (30 page)

I motion to him. “Hey. Fucknuts! Can you reach her? I’ll lay cover if you can pull her back.” 

GI Joe nods, makes himself small, then slinks across the floor to Georgia. He grabs the edge of her pants, pulling hard, tugging her along. Her hair leaves dirty blood streaks behind. It looks like a painter’s sloppy first strokes on the canvas before a shape takes form. Unperfected and messy. GI gets her close enough that he swings her body close, pulling her behind the quarter panel, then checks her wound. 

“She alive?” I don’t want the wrong answer. 

“Yeah, I got a pulse, but he hit her high. Her breathing is off. Maybe hit her lung.” 

“Fuck.” We need to get her out of here. Carlo and Gianfranco are set in a battle of wills. Who will run out of ammo first is anyone’s guess. No one checked him on his way in. so we have no idea how well he’s armed. He could have two Ruger’s in there, and plenty of ammo to boot. 

“The back door is jammed up. The only way out of here is back out the front. Can you handle her?” I yell over the gunfire to Joe. He nods, ducking down. A shot zings close, as he slips an arm under her chest and starts to lift her up. 

“You lead the way and I’m good to go,” He says. 

“No, I’ll cover you. Toss me your gun and get out of here with her. She needs a doc. I’ll hold them off.” 

GI Joe contemplates it, skimming his gun across the floor, along with an extra mag. 

“How about the key so I can fucking shoot. I’d hate to start taking wild shots. You don’t want me hitting your boss.” I can just see him out of the corner of my eye returning fire. He may not mean much to me, but he’s on the same side I am — Georgia’s. If I can’t shoot straight, then I’m no help to her or him. 

He flings it across and it lands just out of reach. I scramble to pick it up, click the key in and release the steel jailer's from my arms. 

“Go, I got this,” I yell as the bracelets clink to the floor. He picks up her prone, soggy body, turns and heads towards the old Benz Mitch was working on. I pop off a few quick rounds towards Gianfranco, forcing him to hide long enough for GI to carry Georgia out safely. 

As I pop up, I take note of their positions. Gianfranco is on my right and Carlo on the left.

“Give it the fuck up, it’s done. You have nowhere to go Giani. I radioed in for more help, and you’ll be surrounded soon.” I can hear and see Carlo clearly. His large frame is hard to hide, no matter the size of the car he’s behind. He’s taken a shot to the shoulder and is losing quite a bit of blood. I can see it’s tiring him out. I don’t think he can hold Gianfranco off much longer at this rate. 

“What’s it gonna be, brother? Your reign is over. Mario is down, your daughter is in the wind again, and you’re almost out of ammo. Unless you’re carrying an AK-47 under that horrible sweater vest.” 

It’s true, his attire is not something to brag about. The midnight black suit is so perfectly pressed — tailored and flawless. It just doesn’t match the plaid vest. It screams mad as a hatter, serial, fucking psycho, mafia boss not English gentleman.

“Down to insults now, brother? Your gun empty? Wanna pop out like the fucking weasel you are so I can splatter your brains?”  He takes another shot, but it’s wide, ringing off a Firebird tailgate. “You’ve been a bother since we were kids. I never should have stuck up for you. I should have trusted Mario and left you on the streets like the dog you are.” Another shot rings out, pinging off a car. “Ya’ know, I trusted you. You were my family and you betrayed me. All over a woman.” 

“Wrong, Gianni. I was in it from the start and that’s what burns you. I was given access, and I took it. I did my job.”

“And look what you got for your troubles, eh brother? Your wife dead, your son stolen, and my family torn apart. Funny, they call me the heartless fuck, but you ruined multiple lives and never gave a
fuck!
” He screams the last part just as he opens fire once more, shooting wildly. He’s getting desperate but not hitting a bloody thing. 

I peek around the panel once more just as a shot rings out beside my head. 

Fuck. He was just waiting. Calling us out. 

“Ryker, get out —” Another shot rings out then Carlo goes quiet. 

“Well, damn. Now it’s just us, Ryker. You traitorous, ungrateful piece of shit. Come out like a man so I can blow yer’ fuckin’ brains out.” I half consider it as I just want this over. The lying, the stealing from the mob. I want to just get my life on the right path with no more criminal activity. I’ll start a real body shop someplace else and enjoy the simple life.

“Hold your fire!” 

Great. The cavalry are here. Now I have to worry about two directions and extra bodies. 

“Hands in the air. Put down the gun and turn around.” 

The newcomers have no idea what’s transpired, who’s on what sides, and they won’t have any issues taking my head off and asking questions later. There’ll be no questions; just a toe-tag fitting.

I put down my weapon, placing GI Joe’s beside it, and Mario’s now empty Glock. I don’t dare rise and become a target, as I know the outcome of that. The newest member of the federal
boyband
keeps his gun trained on me. Reattaching the bracelets — tighter this time I might add, he pulls me from behind to stand up. I’m reluctant, and decidedly so. Gianfranco is still in the wings, waiting to take potshots at me. 

“Come on buddy. Rise up. Time to go.” The new boy puts me to shame for size. He’s fucking massive. At least six foot seven, pushin’ three fifty at the lowest point, with shoulders as wide as the doorways. He has to
turn
for sure. 

I try to avoid rising, and I try to hold back on getting out of my lovely hiding place, but he has more leverage with my arms behind me. I pull against him but it’s useless as he jerks my shoulders backwards. 

And that’s when it all went black.

Georgia

“
Y
eah, I understand. Thank you doctor.” The sound of talking, beeping machines, and scurrying bodies somewhere close by awakens me. I’m groggy, but I’m positive I’m in a hospital somewhere. 

As soon as I start to stir, there’s a warm hand reaching out, touching mine and it frightens me. I pull it back quickly, tucking it under my extremely sore body. 

“It’s ok. It’s jus’ me girl. Sit back and relax. Hazel’s here to keep an eye on you.” Hazel or Carol, or whatever her name is with me. When and where did she come from? 

I push my heavy eyes open and take in the space. The room is sparse with a chair by the window, two IV stands are beeping and pushing god knows what into me, and there’s Hazel, who looks worn out and exhausted. 

I try to swallow my saliva to work up enough to speak, but my mouth is full of cotton and fuzzier than a teddy bear. Worst part is, it feels like my teeth were clamped together with a vice. Every single fucking part of me hurts. 

“Ryk?” I try. It comes out sounding as if I said it with my lips pressed to a cheese grater. 

“He’s good. He’ll be good, honey. Don’t you worry none. The doctors have him and they’ll take good care of him for sure. He’s strong as nails.” She caresses my hand trying to reassure me and keep me from freaking out, but I don’t like the way she said ‘they have him and they’ll take good care of him’. 

“What — happened?”

“Well, it went down like this. You gave up the gun just as Gianfranco pulled his. Fast as lightin’, that fucker.  He shot you point blank in the chest. Agent Gunner went for him, but he was too slow. He took it to the head. Ryker nailed Mario in the chest and he’s done.” She pauses for a second, reaching the side table to hand me a cup of ice water. “Hill was able to get you out of there as Ryker covered your escape, but Ryker took a nasty wound to the heart and he’s in surgery as we speak. They removed the bullet from your lung and patched up some of your other wounds, but you’ll be here quite a few days. The best news darlin’, GF is out of the picture.” 

Accepting the cool plastic cup, sipping the cool water, my mouth feels instantly better. I try speaking again. “What happened to CJ and GF?” 

“CJ will be ok,” I hear him say as he comes from the hall. “I’ll be just fine, sweetie.” 

He moves around the room, coming into my field of vision, and I can clearly see the damage on him too. His arm in a sling, with cloth and gauze patches covering his left shoulder, a ripped up black tee that was once soaked with blood is now dry and stiff, and his signature FBI badge swings across his chest. 

“Well, aren’t we all a mess.” He smiles, winks then takes the empty chair beside Hazel — Carol. 

“Oh, I’m sure I look way worse than I feel.” I sip at the cool drink once more finding my voice easier. It’s hard to lift my hand, with the IV’s running in tandem into my arm and hand, and it pinches, but it’s ok. I feel, and that means I’m alive. 

“Hun, you look like someone crayoned your hair with blood and black marker. You’re a sorry sight.” I’m sure I do look horrible, but I guess it’s nothing I can’t fix with a shower and a box of lightener. I shift in the bed to rest on my back instead of the side. I can feel my chest burn slightly but it’s not bad. The drugs they’re giving me must be
damned
good. 

“So let’s get to the goods,” I say. “Ryker killed Mario, you got GF, your name is Carol or Hazel — and your real name isn’t CJ Mancuso?” 

They look at each other, then turn to me. Both are quiet. It’s fucking unnerving but I wait. I’ve grown kinda patient lately. The best stories always take a while.  

Hazel pulls out her Federal Marshall badge that was tucked behind her jersey, “Yeah. I’m Carol Fellows, not Hazel. I was tasked four years back to try and find out more on the operation of the guns, the drugs, the cars, the girls — you name it. They figured a girl from Savannah Georgia, could blend right in and get the goods on the whole thing from down here. Wasn’t a half bad gig. I got to eat every day for free, and there was a steady supply of information streaming in from next door.” 

That makes sense. The way she put that kid in his place the first day when I saw her was awe inspiring. She had tact and attack. Training. 

“N’ you, what’s your gig, CJ?” Looking over at him he’s quite, reservedly so. 

“FBI. No change there. By the time you were five, I was so deep in this, there was no way out. I knew what I had to do to make a mark, even if it was running over family.” He props his feet up on the edge of the bed and leans back. “Carlo Javier Lusi. I’m actually your uncle. The only good one I guess.” 

I look at him sideways. Cocking my head hurts like hell, so I pause in the effort to stare him down before asking the question I really want to know. “Ryker?”

“It’s complicated. I was Giani and Mario’s older brother. When I was seventeen, I got into deep shit with the police. They recruited me as a snitch at first, then later I was admitted to the FBI. They found that I had innate knowledge of the workings of the mafia world. My dad was a part of it, my uncles were, and they were grooming both me and GF for the takeover when they stepped off. 

“They pushed me to get in deeper and deeper, but by that time, I was already as deep as I could go. I wasn’t sure who’s side I was on for a while. Family thought I was at rehab. That’s when I met Ryker’s mother. We were in Quantico together. She and I were tasked to be husband and wife. A sort of show for the masses. So I came home to New York as a junkie, with a pregnant wife that was a hooker, and I fit right back into the life of a mafioso kings’ son.

“And yeah, Ryker is mine on paper, but he’s not mine by blood. His mother fit the bill as pregnant wife, and even though he’s as big as me, he’s through and through his parents. She was married to a Navy Seal when she went to train, and after a little R’n’R, she was pregnant.  They thought it would fit in with the cover story. When her husband died overseas, she was originally going to give up Ryker for adoption. He was too painful of a reminder to keep. The boss of our division thought it would work, and years later —” 

“Ryker has no idea,” I interrupt. 

He shakes his head. “Sadly, no he doesn’t. It fuckin’ pained me to watch them take him and use him as leverage. They had no idea he wasn’t my son, but they still thought it would keep me in check, and keep me out of their shit. Worst thing is, he is my family. I raised him, I cared for him, I loved him as my own. But that’s all in the past.”