by Nova Rain
In another motel in the hills around Vegas, I stood alone out on the balcony, with a bottle of whiskey in my grasp. I watched the torrent pelting down on the parking lot underneath, moisture and gusts of cold air hitting my face.
“You haven’t said a word since we left Indian Springs,” Joe remarked, approaching me from the right. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t feel like talking.” I attempted a lazy tone, vapors of steam shooting out of my mouth.
“Hmmm…” He hummed. “The bigmouth doesn’t feel like talking. That’s a first.”
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” I replied, a bit of annoyance in my voice. “Just go back inside, man.”
“Maybe this’s got something to do with it.” He held out his phone in front of me. The text on the screen read:
“Ava is crying her eyes out because Donny just broke up with her.”
“You’re a pain in the ass, Mancini,” I said, dragging my gaze away from the phone. “Okay. You got me. That’s it.”
“I get why you’d be mad at her; I mean I got mad at Michelle, too, but breaking up with her?” He paused; then his voice more high-pitched than usual he stated, “That’s a little too much.”
“Really? You think?” I asked in a sarcastic tone, turning my head right to face him.
“Yeah,” Joe rolled his shoulders. “You could have just yelled at her and told her to go back to New York, like I did.”
“That’s easy for you, man; this is your last rodeo!” I put force in my voice. “You’re out again when this is over. I’m not. Somewhere along the way, I know I’m going to have to handle another psycho. I can’t have my girl following me wherever I go, don’t you get that?”
“What makes you so sure she’d do it again?” He wondered, his tone deepening.
I sighed, chugging out cold air. “She’s a loose cannon, Joe. It’s one of the things I liked about her, but it’s also why I can’t trust her anymore. She will do it again, because that’s who she is.”
“Fine.” He gave a reluctant nod. “It’s your life. I’m not going to tell you what to do with it. Go get some sleep.”
“I’ll try,” I said, before shuffling back into my room.
My bed was clean and comfortable, but I couldn’t find peace. I had just ended the best thing that had ever happened to me. I had lost the one woman that had accepted me as I was. Getting any rest sounded like a bad joke. My mind would roam back to the moments I shared with her, wishing she was there with me. No matter how soft the sheets were, Ava’s body wouldn’t be on them. Her face wouldn’t be smiling at me. And her sweet, delicate voice wouldn’t tease me like it once did.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Donny
Another freezing morning dawned over Las Vegas, and along with it, came a complete turnaround of moods.
We had managed to blow up Howard’s warehouse, but none of us had a clue how we could hit him next. To me, this was a no brainer. Further hits were not necessary. We just had to find that son of a bitch and take him out. Still, my idea didn’t go down well with my friends, for a number of reasons.
Number one: we didn’t know where to find him. Sure, finding his address would be easy, but he was a busy man. He’d have to move around a lot, and Vegas was a big city. Searching for him would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.
Number two: even if we could find him, he wasn’t going to be alone. Howard was powerful. He had made many enemies over the years, and because of that, he’d have bodyguards protecting him. We could take them on, but this would go against Maltese and the organization’s philosophy of doing things quietly. It didn’t matter if it happened in broad daylight or during the night. Shooting anyone in public was one of the few things we were not allowed to do. If we ever made such a mistake, we would be dead in days. Sensational events like a gunfight in downtown Las Vegas would bring too much heat on Maltese. Reporters would start asking questions, and the cops would investigate the whole thing. Both would try to shed light on the organization. Exposing any of their activities would threaten the existence of both.
Joe and Bryan’s approach was pretty much the same. According to them, we needed to locate a similar warehouse or one of Howard’s dealers and take him out. This would prove to him that we meant business. In my mind, that was ridiculous. We had already delivered a huge blow to his drug trafficking. It would take him a while to recover from it, if he ever recovered at all. What was the purpose of shooting someone other than the brains behind all this? We could execute each and every one of his dealers. Howard would just find others to sell his merchandise.
Late in the afternoon, we finally reached a decision. We were going to pay another visit to Eddie Mitchell. Why? Because he was the only person we knew in Sin City. More than that, he had come through for us once. The local cop could do it again, or so we hoped. None of us liked the idea of begging a cop for information again, but it was our only choice.
Once more, Jimmy’s van crossed into that quiet neighborhood in Eastern Heights, the rain pounding on the vehicle. But we hadn’t covered more than a few yards, when that quietness was shattered. My window down, I fixed my gaze on Mitchell’s house to my right, noticing a black BMW parked outside. The crackling of bullets caused my stomach to chill with fear. In the blink of an eye, the cop hurtled out of his home, holding a gun. Bullets splintering the concrete on either side of him, he rushed towards the moving Transit.
“Get the door!” I shouted, as a stranger with a rifle came running out of the house. Joe obliged me, and Mitchell lunged through the narrow gap. He landed flat and hard on his chest, his chin slamming against the aluminum. Bryan grabbed the cop by the waistband of his pants and dragged him inside, while the van swerved left. I shifted my attention to Jimmy, wondering why he had veered off course. The answer turned fear into horror and pure dread. Blood was oozing down the side of his neck. He had leaned his head on the window, his hands on the seat.
“Fuck!” I yelled, thrusting both arms across to the steering wheel. A minor correction brought it back to the right side of the road. “Bryan…”
“No!” He let out a cry of despair, lunging forward. Gripping Jimmy by the shoulder, he began to drag him into the back. I swung my leg over the stick, my eyes on the road ahead.
“Jimmy…” Bryan gasped, his labored breath audible over the slaps to the kid’s face.
“Talk to me, people. What’s happening back there?” I asked in a quick voice, Bryan’s sniffle realized my fears. He eased his cousin’s body up and into his embrace, his eyes shut.
“Damn…” Joe sighed, folding his hands behind his head, elbows pointing forward.
“The boy’s dead,” Mitchell announced. “I’m really sorry about this. I don’t know how Howard’s people found out about our little deal, but they did.”
“We’ll discuss this later, Mitchell,” Joe uttered, his voice broken. “What do you want to do, Bryan?” He posed the question, shifting his eyes to our friend. “Whatever you decide, I’ll understand.”
At that point, the cop’s phone buzzed with an incoming call. He whipped it out of his pocket, sliding over to the side of the back of the van. “It’s him.”
“Put him on speaker,” Joe requested, the nerve somehow returning to his tone.
“I’m not surprised you survived, you little cockroach.” Howard’s gruff voice filled the air. “How are your new friends doing? I’m guessing they’re listening to me right now.”
“We are, you murdering piece of shit,” Joe growled. “Guess what. I’m coming for you.”
“Joe Mancini…?”
“Yeah, that’s me.”
“Wow…” Howard chuckled. “How’s legit life working out for you, Joe? It’s hard, isn’t it? Balancing checkbooks and paying bills must be driving you crazy, but don’t worry. You’ll get used to it.”
“I’m going to rip your fucking throat out!” Joe snarled, staring down at the phone with a mean glare.
“Relax, Mancini.
You can’t afford to threaten me. For your information, I know everything about you. I’m telling you; I love your place in Westchester. You wouldn’t want my men to pay a visit to your beloved Michelle, would you?”
“No,” Joe gasped out, hanging his head in despair.
“That’s the spirit!” Howard giggled. “Now, bring me my money and that do-gooder cop to my ranch in Calico Basin. It’s just off the NV-159. You can’t miss it. You have twenty-four hours.”
“How…?”
Joe was left with his mouth open as the call ended.
“That ranch is in the Mojave Desert,” Mitchell interjected. “I can take you there. What’s that money he was talking about?”
“That’s a long story, Mitchell,” Joe responded, looking up at the rearview mirror.
“Don’t worry about the girls. Maltese will keep them safe,” I maintained and then pulled over to call him.
“Yeah?”
“Boss, it’s Donny. We’re in Vegas, taking care of that thing.”
“I was just reading about that warehouse in Indian Springs. Not bad.”
“Thanks. Listen, I need a favor. My girlfriend and Joe’s…”
“Joe’s?” He interrupted. “Mancini’s down there with you?”
“That’s right. Our girlfriends did something stupid. They followed us all the way to Vegas. They should be arriving back in New York tonight, but I just found out that Howard knows where they live. Can you…?”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“Thanks a lot, boss. Goodnight.”
Waves of relief washed over me at the end of our conversation. Maltese had the power to keep Ava and Michelle safe. Yet, that feeling was short-lived. A simple glance back reminded me of Jimmy’s fate.
“We can’t drive around with a dead body in here.” Joe saved me the trouble of having to speak to Bryan. “And we can’t take Jimmy to a hospital morgue. The coroner will call the cops when he sees that entry wound.”
“I know…” Bryan said on an exhale, setting the boy’s body down. “We must cremate him.”
“I’ll show you where,” Mitchell told him, while tears ran down my buddy’s face.
Poor Bryan… He had just lost his flesh and blood, but fate hadn’t had enough of hurting him. He suggested disposing of his cousin’s body in a place thousands of miles away from home.
Later, we bought what we needed from a hardware store and a gas station, and headed out into the Mojave Desert. Seeing Jimmy’s body lying on a cheap stretcher on the dirt tore me apart. But whatever sadness I was carrying, it was nothing compared to the agony in Bryan’s heart. He fell to his knees as the flames surrounded his cousin’s corpse. Within moments, I couldn’t hear the sizzle of the fire anymore. His loud sobs echoed in that barren land, overshadowing everything in their wake, including the whistling of the wind.
Chapter Thirty
Ava
Finding myself back in Michelle’s neighborhood, I couldn’t help but compare what I felt inside with my feelings the last time I was there. I was happy back then. I wouldn’t have been near Donny, but I would have been close enough to him. I knew he wouldn’t appreciate my stunt. It wasn’t right of me to head to the unknown like that. What he did when he found me, however, hadn’t even crossed my mind. I was expecting him to scold me, yell at me, and tell me to go home, but break up with me? No.
Each foot Michelle’s car was covering brought me closer and closer to my second night of loneliness. The second night of the long winter my heart was in. Nevertheless, just as she hit the button on the key fob of her garage, something puzzled me. There was a black, shiny Cadillac parked by the curb. What’s more, two men in black suits were on either side of it, looking in our direction.
“Do you know those guys?” I asked, my gaze on the one closest to me.
“Nope,” Michelle’s answer was quick. “I’ve never seen them before.”
Amazingly enough, she didn’t hesitate one bit. She opened her door and got out, compelling me to follow her example.
“Gentlemen, is there something I can help you with?” Michelle said, annoyance evident in her tone.
“Is your name Michelle Garner?” The man I’d been staring at asked.
“Yeah, why?”
“My name’s Cliff Kelton, ma’am,” he introduced himself. “We’ve been sent here by Don Maltese. He’s got reason to believe your lives are in danger. Please…” He gestured to the car behind him. “Come with us.”
“Maltese is Donny’s boss,” I remarked, shifting my gaze over to her.
“I know who Don Maltese is,” she claimed, her eyes still on Kelton. “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
“Paul…” He called out his colleague’s name. Then, the guy behind him pulled open the rear left door. A tall, thin man with a receding hairline emerged from the Cadillac, wearing a polite smile.
“Evening, ladies.” He tipped his head down. “Come. We have a long drive ahead of us.”
“It’s him,” I silently mouthed to Michelle.
“Don Maltese, with all due respect, we just got back from Vegas,” she emphasized. “Can we please take a few minutes to rest?”
“I’m afraid not.” He rejected her idea. “Trust me, you’ll rest all you like in my mansion. It’s got a Jacuzzi. Three of them, in fact.”
“Alright,” she agreed with a nod. “Just let me put my car in the garage and we’ll be right with you.”
The Don’s presence should have given me an ounce of joy. It showed that Donny still cared about my safety. He hadn’t forgotten about me and wanted to keep me out of harm’s way. Still, this kind of care lost its meaning when he decided I was too reckless to be with him. I wasn’t interested in it. That mobster could have fifteen Jacuzzi’s for all I cared. He could have a wardrobe full of designer clothes waiting for me, and I’d not give a rat’s ass about it. I had lost the key to Donny’s heart. Enjoying any kind of luxury sounded silly to me.
Chapter Thirty-One
Donny
“I’m not going anywhere. Just give me a rifle and our special something and let’s go to that meeting.”
If I respected Bryan before his cousin’s death, I admired him that day. The man had balls the size of watermelons. He wouldn’t go home. He wouldn’t let tragedy deter him from providing a helping hand. Instead, he decided to be there for his buddies. How he would do that? I couldn’t tell, but I wasn’t worried. He was smart; maybe smarter than me and Joe. And after losing someone so close to him, he was fueled by something else, too: raw determination.
Bryan had that feeling when he shot those two security guards during the money truck heist. Despite Joe’s objections, he didn’t hesitate. He dropped them both without much thought. More than ever, I needed that determination to guide him. Meeting with Dennis Howard on his own ground seemed like suicide. Three people were going to stand against the most powerful bastard in the State of Nevada. And boy, he was pissed.
I had been scouring news articles for days, searching for evidence of someone daring to steal from him. It was incredible, but we were the only ones who had done that. Nobody in the State or in the whole country had attempted taking his money. The locals had been wise enough to keep their hands off his cash. Perhaps we wouldn’t have hit that armored truck had we known who he was and what he was capable of.
All that was in the past, though. We couldn’t undo anything, the same way we couldn’t cower before him. Joe, Mitchell, and I would see him, even if it was the last thing we ever did on this Earth.
Leaving the interstate behind us, we dropped off Bryan and continued on our way. The Mojave Desert looked as cold and inhospitable as it sounded. Big rock formations with razor-sharp peeks stood hundreds of feet above the ground, destroying the flatness of the land. Patches of dry grass were few and far between, large rocks looming over them. With the headlights of the Transit casting their light upon the dirt, a lizard quickly crept under a huge boulder beside the road. I could see a cloud of dust rising from t
he tires in the passenger mirror as we headed for our destination.
Howard’s ranch filled my gaze, and I understood why he had chosen to own this property. It might have been half a mile from the interstate, but it was ideal for anything outside the law. The absence of any other buildings around it guaranteed privacy. There was nothing on either side of the road for hundreds and hundreds of yards. A tall rock formation a quarter of a mile west of the compound separated the area from the rest of the desert. Its three peaks were bathing in brilliant moonlight, their jagged edges a light shade of brown.
I exhaled hard, the van rolling through the open gate of the fence. I stared at the last left bend, a mix of fear and adrenaline coursing through my veins. I noticed a truck outside the main building, three cab roof lights revealing four men with rifles around it, and someone else’s figure a few feet away. He was short; I doubted he was more than 5’7”, 5’8” tops. His white hair gave away his age, along with his identity.
“Stay here, Mitchell,” Joe ordered the cop. “Get ready to haul ass if this thing goes sideways.”
“Good luck,” Mitchell spoke as my friend and I jumped out into the cold of the night.
“Joe Mancini and Donny Falcone…” Howard smirked, putting his hands together. “It’s an honor, gentlemen,” he added, giving sarcastic claps. “Where’s Genovese?”
“On his way back to New York, to bury his cousin. That fucker shot him last night,” Joe pointed up to the second man to our left. “How do you know our names?”
“Like I said to your friend, I know everything about you,” Howard stated, the smug look on his face tempting me to pounce. “You see, you made one mistake when you robbed my truck last summer. You showed your faces when you checked in to that motel in Dallas. Unlike most motels, the camera in the one you chose actually worked. I paid ten grand for that tape, but it was money well spent. After that, locating you wasn’t hard. My associates at LVPD did a very good job cross-referencing that footage with mug shots of known criminals. And believe it or not, I found out your hacker’s name from the paper. He graduated top of his class at NYU. The New York Times did his interview. That kid signed his death warrant the minute his picture was published.”
