Mobster's Angel (Mobster Series) (23 page)

I try to get my bearings. I push my fear into a crevice in my chest and think of what Vito would do.  It’s difficult with a racing heart and teary eyes. He wouldn’t lie down and take it, that’s for sure.

I glance around to further assess the situation.  I’m in someone’s finished basement.  The drop ceilings have soft recessed lighting. A huge screen T.V. is mounted on the far wall and there are no windows.  In the corner is a bar with a stainless steel refrigerator and stove behind it. That means they must have knives down here for when they cook.

Brice motions to someone. It looks like it could be the limo driver I threatened with an umbrella.  The guy steps closer and it’s him for sure.  He doesn’t seem triumphant or smug like Brice. Instead, he seems afraid. 

I still have no clue how long I was unconscious or what time it is. I’m only afraid of what will happen next.

I think I’m going crazy.  Caring about someone so much blinds your judgment.  Pride makes you stupid.  I should have hopped on this plane two days ago and begged her to forgive me.  I’m surprised the air marshal hasn’t been called over.

“Would you care for a drink?”  A flight attendant dressed in a navy blue suit with white trim asks.

“No. Go away.”

Antonio leans towards me as the lady scurries forward to the next set of seats.

“Fuckin’ stop it.  We’re all worried,” he whispers from his aisle seat.

He sat me in between Megan and himself after I snapped at the boarding attendant, growled at an old couple who took ten years to put a ridiculously big bag in the overhead compartment, and shoved some slow assholes from behind.

Megan entwines her hand in mine and rests it on her leg.  She’s trying to comfort me, or at least keep me secured if I decide to go postal on this aircraft.  I can’t bring myself to look at her because worry and anger shoot through my veins when I see her red rimmed eyes.

“Pop is getting in touch with the Senator.  We’ll get her back.”

I’ve seen so much bad shit go down that images of Erin dead plague my thoughts.  If anything happens to her, I don’t know what I would do with myself.

*****

We know where she is.  Antonio placed a few phone calls on the flight. Mr. Delisi talked to Senator Talbot who swears he had no fuckin’ clue what his son was up to.  Talbot isn’t even in California; he’s in D.C. Apparently, Brice’s limo driver spilled his guts when the Senator questioned him.  Donnie was disappointed he couldn’t fuck up the
loser
Brice had hired as a tail.  He’s been following Erin around, and in turn, me.  I suspected something was up when I saw the cars following us from time to time, but I never put two and two together.

Knowing she’s at 18 Ocean Drive doesn’t make me feel any better because it’s only half the battle. The address doesn’t fuckin’ tell me what’s been done to her.

Antonio’s phone rings as soon as ’we're off the plane. We walk quickly towards the airport exit.

“Yeah.” Pause. “Okay.” Pause.  Antonio is short with the Senator on the phone. “If anything fuckin’ happens to her, I’m coming after you and your dickwad son personally,” Antonio threatens ominously.  He clicks the phone off. “Come on. We’re looking for a guy named Daniel.”A guy standing on the sidewalk has a sign that says Delisi.  He’s by a black limousine.  Antonio walks straight up to the guy. “Daniel?” The driver nods.

Tonio grabs the keys out of his hand.  “Check the vehicle,” he orders.  The three of us open the doors, the trunk, every part of it.  We move fast.  Megan finds a glock in the glove compartment.  Tonio gets in the driver’s seat.  The limo driver is stunned and not sure what just happened in the last sixty seconds. I shove him in the passenger seat and hop in the back with Megan.  Antonio pulls away from the curb.  He points the gun at the driver. 

“Tell me where to go, Daniel, or I will blow your brains out and find her myself!”

The driver is so scared I think he shit his pants.  I can smell it.

“Talbots’…” he murmurs.

“Where the fuck is that?”

“Take this exit.”

“Megan, get out your phone and Google 18 Ocean Drive. I want to make sure this fucker isn’t lying.”

“Got it.”

“Are we going the right way?”

“Yes,” she says. 

“Good.”

The limo driver’s hands are shaking as he unties my legs.  The skin is sore around my ankles.

“Don’t try anything stupid, Erin,” Brice threatens.  “I know Joey taught you some fancy mafia moves.” I can tell he’s still pissed that I beat him up in the back of his limo. He rubs his jaw and turns to a guy next to him.  “We’re ready for you.”

Another man comes over.  He’s enormous and very familiar.  It takes me a minute to shift through the terror and jumbled thoughts darting through my brain.

Holy Shit! 
Jacko! What the hell?

“It wasn’t hard to keep tabs on you. When I found out about your boyfriend, I learned he’s not too popular, especially with Jacko here.” Brice is smug and sure of himself.

I give Jacko a once over; he is just as I remember him.  He could squash me like a bug.  His biceps protrude ominously over his folded arms; his dark eyes radiate malice and contempt.  He hates me.

“What do you want?” I ask Brice.  Finding out his intentions besides forced sex seems like the right move.

“You,” he says like it’s obvious. Brice’s eyes glitter with want. 

“It can’t be just me.”  I try to reason. I take on a more assertive tone. “You’re a bored, over privileged brat who is fixating on something he can’t have.”

“No.  I can have it.” He accentuates the
it
. I just barely restrain myself from shuddering.

We screech to a stop in the driveway of a mansion. The iron gates that section off the fence from the road are open.  The three of us jump out. The driver, Daniel, runs down the fucking street away from us.  We let him go.  Joey rushes up to us. 

“She’s inside,” he huffs.  “I found Clarissa outside already. She was unconscious, but she’s okay now.” He hands me a gun and I take it gladly.   I hope I can pop a few holes in the fucker that took Erin.  I keep repeating in my head over and over,
Erin’s okay too
.  I hope I’m fuckin’ right.

A slew of cars come to a s
top at the mansion—mob faction affiliates Antonio’s pop called in. A group of guys with guns drawn rush up to us. I bet the neighbors are glad they have high stone walls today because there are about twenty mobster’s in the Talbots’ driveway.

“Break up into groups of five.” Antonio orders.  “We’re going in the front.  We’re after a girl, young. Her name is Erin.  Black hair, she’s small. Senator Talbot’s son took her.  We need her back. Any questions?”  A murmur of “no” runs through the crowd along with the click of safeties and gun barrels. 

Megan sends Antonio a look that says,
I want to come.

“No.” he says aloud.  Megan sighs and goes over to sit with Clarissa. Clarissa doesn’t seem too badly hurt - she probably has a bump on the back of her head from when they knocked her out, but she seems awake and alert enough to be okay.

For a split second, I feel bad. I’ve been so focused on Erin that I forgot about Clarissa entirely. But she’s okay, and Erin’s still in danger. I turn to Antonio, who’s waiting for me to get with it. I nod that I’m ready to go.

“Let’s move!” he shouts.

We storm up the walkway in broad daylight.  I carry my gun low.  This place is a fucking estate. We split up and move quickly.  So much shit can go wrong if we make one misstep.  I don’t think, I just do. 

Yells and screams float down to the basement.  The thud of he
avy shoes and possibly bodies falling echoes above us.  Brice’s face is coated in panic.

“What’s going on?” he cries out.

Jacko, Brice, the driver, and I look up as if the ceiling has all the answers.   Shots ring out.  I tip my chair over and fall to the floor.  Jacko pulls out a gun from the waistband of his pants and lunges for me.  He picks me up effortlessly, chair and all, and drags me to the back of the basement away from the noisy area. 
What the hell is he doing?

The jostling loosens my hands.  He puts me down.  The slim barrel of his gun makes it way to my temple.  Flashbacks of cold steel against my skin a year ago run recklessly wild.  A scream crawls its way up my throat.  I swallow it and it almost chokes me. 
How did I end up here again?

I concentrate on undoing the ropes around my hands to shift my focus away from the thought of a bullet shredding my skull into bloody bits.

Brice is crouched behind the couch, cowering, watching the stairway across the room.  I’m afraid to move my head to look up at Jacko.  I pray he doesn’t realize what I’m trying to do.  Twisting and tugging, I free my left hand and leave it behind my back.  My heart beats quickly, almost painfully.

The sounds above us suddenly quiet. 

Antonio and I are in the main hallway.  It’s huge, so there are tons of areas to check.  We run into some muscle, lazy-ass security. We easily take them down and secure them.  The one in the kitchen Antonio had to pop in the leg. 

The group has secured the perimeter and we are reassembled in the kitchen.  We see a closed door by the refrigerator that mostly likely leads to the basement.  Tonio motions for a group to go upstairs and we head down.  Antonio kicks the door in and it breaks like a piece of cheap cardboard. I hold my gun parallel to the floor, ready to fire.  We fly down the steps. There’s practically another whole house underground. 

I scan the expanse of the room. Fear seizes me like a tunnel of fucking nightmares.  Erin is tied to a chair with a gun to her head.  I reel with fury. 
Holy Fuck!
In a split second, I see the holder of the gun.
Jacko!
  Incensed and blazing, I want to fire. 

The raw terror on Erin’s face stops me.  Who knows what Jacko would do if I popped him one? And what if I missed?

“Let her fuckin’ go!”  I yell.  The thought of slicing Jacko into bits with a bone saw travels through my enraged mind. The image is satisfying.

“Stay,” Jacko orders us.

Antonio is beside me. We’re both furious.  Slowly, Antonio and I hold our hands up in surrender, our guns pointed at the ceiling.  My eyes are locked with Erin’s.

The amazing
what if’s
of life pass through my mind.  I can’t let anything happen to her.  She’s mine - she’s practically made for me.  A light in this fucked up life of crime and murder.

“Good dog,” Jacko says, malevolently arrogant.

I know what I have to do.  I’ve done it before.  Take in the area, find a weakness, take cover and fire.  But I can’t focus.  My judgment is obscured by worry and love.  This shit doesn’t happen to me.

“She’s cute and tiny, like a little doll.  It’d be a waste to blow her brains out.  There are other things I’d like to do to her.” 

He’s baiting me.

It takes everything in my power not to let him get to me. If I wasn’t tense enough before, I certainly am now. I can feel how enraged Tonio is too, without even looking at him.  I run through possible scenarios and hope that Tonio has something better than what I can come up with.

“You’re pissed at me.  Leave her the fuck out of this!” I spew.

“You think you’re so fuckin’ special, Rossi!” Jacko barks through fuming breaths. “I had a good thing goin’ on at Baby’s until you fucked it up!”  He is riling himself up. His gun shakes.  “You taught some skinny fucker how to beat me!”

“Yeah. So?” I say back haughtily, trying to elevate his pissed-off meter.  It’s a gamble, but it’s the only thing that might work. “You fuckin’ suck, that’s not my problem.”  Jacko’s eyes flash with hatred. 

He does exactly what I expect him to do.  He moves his gun away from Erin and points it at me.

Jacko moves the gun away from me and towards Vito. My chest feels like it’s going to burst, but I take my shot.  I jump up.  I grab the rope that had been used to bind my hands, lift it up high, and leap - wrapping it right around Jacko’s neck. He garbles a startled yelp. I pull hard, trying to choke him.  I dangle off him like a fish on a hook.  I use all my strength.  There is shouting in the room, but I don’t take my focus off strangling this huge guy who was going to shoot me.

A shot goes off and a searing hot pain forms in my leg.  My hands let go of Jacko and I fall to the floor in agony.  More shots are fired
. I feel small wet droplets hit my skin.  In slow motion, Jacko falls down next to me.  I look at him.  There is a crimson colored hole between his eyes.  The rug is splattered with dark red blood.

My hand clutches my calf where a bullet from Jacko’s gun clipped me.  Blood seeps through my fingers.  Vito is immediately there with me, holding a
beige blanket to the wound.  I cry out in pain and the tears come. He leans in and kisses my forehead.