by Hamel, B. B.
I went home, exhausted and running on fumes. Aida got me upstairs and into bed, and although all I wanted to do was lick her delicious little pussy and feel her lips around my cock, I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep that lasted more or less all day.
I woke up around five with Aida curled up next to me. I got up and grabbed my phone. I sent some texts and made some calls. As I got out of the shower, Steven called me, and I took it out in the hall. Aida was still sleeping and I didn’t want to wake her up.
“Eastwick is ours,” Steven said.
“Anyone hurt? Anyone dead?”
“Nobody.” He sounded pleased. “Easiest fucking war ever.”
“We did all the hard work already. Lost enough people.” I let out a breath and relief rushed over me. “Wish I’d been there.”
“You didn’t need to be. Nobody knows you were sleeping. You needed the rest.”
“Yeah,” I said. “But we’ve got one more thing to deal with.”
“Already setting it up. I looked into the apartment Gerardo told us about and it’s owned by some guy named Jake Jacobson, but I think that’s just a fake name.”
“Sounds promising,” I said, a spike of excitement running through me.
Steven laughed. “So we’re going to hit it tonight and see what turns up. If there’s no Vlas, we’ll just move on to the next tip. Hopefully, the Jalisco won’t take offense to you breaking Gerardo’s nose.”
“He’s not dumb,” I said. “He’ll let it go. I suspect Vlas will turn up, and if he’s there, we’ll pay the man what we owe him. Fifty grand, straight up.”
Steven whistled. “You’re so generous, boss.”
I laughed. “Fuck off. Anything else to report?”
“Nothing,” he said. “Just that I heard about your little gift to Aida.”
“Yeah? The guys talking about that?” I grinned to myself.
“Biagio’s been telling the story like she punched some girl in the face then fired her. Is that shit true?”
“Sort of,” I said. “She slapped her and fired her.”
“Wow,” Steven said and let out a laugh. “That girl’s fully mobbed up now, isn’t she?”
“Damn right she is.” I heard a noise and turned. Aida was lingering in the doorway, wearing nothing but a pair of panties, her hair a mess, a little smile on her lips. “I gotta go.”
“I’ll pick you up in an hour,” Steven said.
I hung up the phone, dropped it on the floor, and walked to my woman. I didn’t say a word as I kissed her, palmed her ass, licked her breasts, then dragged her back to my bed without a word.
I had at least fifty minutes to taste every inch of her and turn her into a sweaty, spent mess.
That was barely enough time, but I could work with it.
* * *
Steven picked us up right on time and we drove through the city, up north to South Street. Schmitz Bar was between Seventh and Eighth Streets in a popular and busy part of the city. Drunk young college kids were all over the place, crawling from bar to bar. Schmitz had a large, wood-paneled front facade with these huge double doors. Everything was authentically German, or at least that’s what they claimed.
I never got into big beers and schnitzel, but the bar was packed just based on the number of people coming and going. We parked right down the street and staked it out. Aida sat in the back and I sat up front with Steven as we watched the flow of people coming and going.
“You spot him?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Entrance is just there,” he said, pointing to a nondescript, unmarked gray door next to the restaurant’s entrance. “As far as we know, that’s the only way in.”
“All right,” I said. “So he might’ve gone up a day ago or something. How long have you been watching?”
“Since Gerardo mentioned it,” he said.
“Fine. Doesn’t change anything.” I leaned back in my seat. “Too crowded to go up right now. But give it a few hours.”
Steven nodded and settled in to wait.
It was a long night, and I worried Aida might get impatient. Staking out a spot wasn’t fun work and it wasn’t glamorous. The mob life could be fast paced and exciting, but sitting outside of a location just staring at its front door wasn’t the fastest way to pass an evening.
Still, we sat there and waited. Steven got us food from the German place and it wasn’t so bad. Schnitzel was basically just fried chicken pounded thin, and it was actually pretty good. We ate, joked about Aida slapping then girl down, then went back to waiting some more.
Just after midnight, the crowds began to thin out. Bars closed at two in Philly, and there was always a big rush right at closing time. I frowned at the street, at the few couples and groups of young men walking from place to place, and turned to Steven.
“Let’s move,” I said.
“Now?” he asked. “We wait a few more hours and this place will be empty.”
“It’s empty enough and I’m tired of waiting. We go right now.”
He frowned at me then shrugged. “What the fuck, why not.” He turned on the car and flashed his headlights three times, which was the signal to the other cars stationed all along the street that it was time to get moving.
I got out of the car first and Aida followed. I looked back at her and was about to tell her to stay behind, but she gave me a fierce look and spoke first.
“I’m coming,” she said.
“It’ll be dangerous,” I said.
“Good.” She gave me a hard look and I just laughed.
“I turned you into a monster,” I said, and stepped closer to her. I kissed her softly. “I think I like it.”
“I bet you do,” she said, grinning.
I let her go and stalked across the street. Steven followed, with Aida in the rear. I saw Biagio, Ryan, and Carmine coming up toward us, while John, Cosimo, and Chad came from the other end of the sidewalk. We converged in front of the apartment’s door, and Cosimo took point, producing a lockpick set from his jacket pocket. He dropped to one knee and got to work.
We couldn’t just break down the door, because that was loud and would’ve drawn attention. I noticed a few people walking past looked over at the group of us with a little suspicion, but nobody stopped or said anything. I gave them steady stares and they kept on walking.
It took Cosimo three minutes to pick the locks, which was pretty damn fast. Once the top bolt came undone, the door swung open, and I went in first.
Steven followed after me, followed by Biagio. I told Aida to at least come in last. Cosimo and Chad would watch the door and make sure nobody came in behind us.
The staircase was cramped and old. The steps creaked under my weight. They were wood, painted gray, and the walls were bare and white. A single light burned up in the ceiling as we reached the first landing, turned, and hurried up the next flight. The bulb sat just above the single apartment door at the very top of the steps. I could hear noise from the bar down below us, some shouts and cheers, and a general clatter of glasses and plates.
I tried the knob but it was locked. I grabbed onto the railing, braced myself against the wall with my other hand, and reared back my right leg. I smashed my boot into the door right below the handle. It flexed and wood cracked, but it took a second kick to smash the door inward. It flew open and banged against the wall as I barreled inside, my Glock up and ready.
My heart beat fast and I was itching for violence. The entry hall had a single door on the right that led into an empty galley kitchen. I moved past it and into a relatively large and open living room. There was a single futon with empty pizza boxes on the floor next to it and a coffee table with four empty bottles of vodka. The TV was an old flat-screen with enormous side bezels and it was tuned into a sitcom on mute.
Steven came in behind me and nodded as he turned down another hall. Aida was following at a distance, her eyes wide, her breath coming fast. I could tell she was nervous, but she wasn’t backing away, and I liked that. I followed and
he pushed his way into the first room. He flipped on the light and I peered in over his shoulder, gun out and ready. It was empty, nothing on the walls, nothing on the floor. The floors were wood and they creaked under my feet as I moved forward. There were two more doors, one at the very end, and one on the left. Nothing hung on the walls and the paint was stained almost a brownish yellow, like someone had smoked for years while living there.
I took the door on the left. It was locked, and that time kicking it was easier, since I wasn’t on the stairs. I smashed my boot into it and the door ripped open as I slammed into the room with my gun raised.
Lying in a bed with no sheets, a box of half-eaten Chinese food on the mattress beside him, was Vlas. He smiled at me and didn’t move. He wore a pair of navy-blue boxers, a white tank top that was a size too small for him, and there was a bloodstained bandage on his right leg. His eyes were sunken and he was completely unarmed, his hands held up above his head. He looked bloated and exhausted, like he hadn’t left that bed in days, and based on the trash I saw on the floor and the amount of vodka bottles, I thought that might be the case.
“You got me,” Vlas said, grinning. His eyes shone with what I thought might be a fever. He looked sallow and yellow like the walls outside the room.
I slowly lowered my gun as Steven came in behind me, followed by Biagio. Aida came in last, and I looked over at her as she stared down at the man that had made her life a living hell these past few weeks. Disgust flickered over her expression, and I knew what she was thinking.
We all looked down on the pathetic man lying on the bed before us, and I felt absolute revulsion and pity rush through me at his pitiful form.
At one point, that was my biggest rival, my greatest enemy. It was almost sad to see him reduced to such a pathetic state, simultaneously thin and bloated, rotting away on a dirty mattress in a trash-strewn room.
“What the fuck happened to you?” I asked.
He laughed and there was a hard, manic edge to his voice. “We don’t have to talk. Just kill me and finish this. Don’t make me suffer, Dante. I know that’s not your style.”
I shook my head and walked toward him. I kept my gun lowered, though Steven and Biagio didn’t relax. I leaned down over Vlas and stared into his eyes.
“I’m not going to kill you,” I said.
There was a moment of panic on his face. He couldn’t hide it, and I wondered if he would have been able to in better times.
“What… what are you going to do with me?” he asked, stuttering the words out.
“I’m going to take you to my boss and let him decide,” I said. “Which is lucky for you.” I leaned even closer and could smell his stink, a foul stench rising from his rotting, weakened body. “If it were up to me, I’d cut off your balls and make you choke on them.”
His eyes went wide for a moment then he leaned back and laughed. He threw his head back and cackled like an animal. I let him laugh for a moment before bringing the butt of my gun down as hard as I could on his knee. He screamed in pain and doubled over, which made him groan and roll onto his side.
“Take him,” I said to Steven.
“Wait,” Vlas said. “Wait, wait, wait. Be careful, please, be careful. I can’t… I can’t walk.” He looked up at me, sweat pouring down his face, and he began to tremble.
“That wound?” I asked.
He nodded. “Shot. Your fucking… your fucking guy shot me. He killed me, Dante.”
“You deserved worse,” Aida snapped.
I laughed and shook my head at the irony of it. “Gino shot you in the leg and you didn’t go see a doctor,” I said. “I don’t think anyone deserves a slow death from a rotten wound any more than you do.”
“You don’t understand,” Vlas said. “You don’t… you don’t get it. The ghosts… they’re haunting me, Dante. All the death, all the lies… I did it all.”
He was raving, his eyes wild and wide. He shifted toward me and I raised my gun again. He let out a groan and winced away, covering his face with his arms. I looked at Aida and she just shook her head.
“He’s lost it,” she said. “God, this is pathetic. I can’t even look. I almost wish you could kill him right now and be done with it.”
I shook my head. “The Vlas I knew is dead,” I said. “Whatever this thing is, it’s much too pathetic to be worth my time.” I gestured at Steven and Biagio again. “Take him.”
They came forward and Vlas screamed in fear. Steven grabbed his legs, pulled him to the end of the bed, and Biagio grabbed him under the arms. They heaved him up together, and for a second, he flailed around until I kicked him in the side. He gasped for breath as Steven and Biagio carried him between them back through the dingy apartment and down the steep flight of stairs.
By the time we reached the street, they were both puffing and sweating. “Fuck, he’s heavy,” Biagio grunted.
Aida came out last, surveying the men arranged on the sidewalk as a drunk couple came stumbling past, barely paying any attention to what was going on around them.
“Come on, in the car,” I said.
They took Vlas across the sidewalk and threw him roughly into the rear hatch of a waiting SUV. I ran around to the front and got in behind the wheel. Steven took the passenger side seat, Aida got in behind me, and Biagio got in behind Steven. I nodded at the others and Chad slammed the rear hatch shut.
I heard Vlas groan in pain as I pulled out into traffic, heading toward Don Leone’s place.
“I hope Don Leone’s awake,” I said.
“He’s expecting us,” Steven said.
“Good.” I smiled and looked in the rearview mirror at Aida. She grinned at me, tilted her head, and blew a kiss. “We have a prize for him.”
I stepped on the gas, a smile on my lips.
31
Aida
Don Leone lived in a modest rowhome in the heart of Old City. I would’ve walked past it a thousand times and never known a dangerous mob boss lived in it, never would’ve guessed it wasn’t owned by a lawyer or a doctor with three kids and a pretty young stay-at-home wife.
Dante parked out front and killed the engine. “Here we are,” he said.
I laughed. “This is really it?” I asked. “I mean, the Don lives… here?”
“What did you expect?” Dante asked. “A mansion?”
“I guess I didn’t know what to expect,” I admitted.
“He used to live in South Philly,” Dante said. “But then that got too dangerous, so he moved up here.” He opened his door. “Come on, Steven, you go knock, I’ll grab our friend. Help me out, Biagio.”
I got out my side of the SUV and stood on the sidewalk as Dante and Biagio popped the hatch. Vlas raved about ghosts and death pressing at his door but he was slurring and only half with it. Steven hurried up the stoop and knocked on the door until one of the Don’s guards answered, the older guy named Roberto.
“We got him,” Steven said.
“Good.” Roberto stepped out of the house and looked around. He nodded at Dante and Biagio and gestured at them. “Come on, bring him in. The Don’s waiting.”
Dante and Biagio carried Vlas between them up the steps. Steven followed next, and I took up the rear. Roberto gave me a look and closed the door behind me before gesturing for the group to follow him.
The entryway had rich, dark hardwood floors. There was a parlor sitting room to the right with an old fireplace and low, deep red couches set up around it. I noticed a few oil paintings on the walls, but didn’t have time to check them out further. Roberto led the group down the main hall, past a huge staircase with a chandelier hanging from the ceiling, and down another side hall.
I caught glimpses of rooms as we walked: an industrial kitchen with all stainless-steel appliances and prep stations, another sitting room with a large TV in the center, a home gym, a library. We moved past all of them, and I realized that Don Leone’s house must extend through a few of the houses on the block, because we were moving much deeper than a sing
le house could possibly go. The wood floor was polished bright, and the lighting fixtures didn’t have a speck of dust on them. There were more oil paintings on the walls of landscape scenes, and I noticed more than a few included horses of some kind, mostly big black stallions. I could smell fresh floor wax and wood spice drifting up with each step, and I ran my fingers along the wood paneling along the lower half of the wall, finding it smooth and even.
Roberto reached a large ornate wooden door at the end of the hall and knocked once. There was a muffled response, and Roberto pushed the door open. Dante and Biagio went in first, Steven next, and I went in last. Roberto shut the door behind us, and I took a sharp breath as I looked around.
We were in a large study of some kind. There were bookshelves lining the walls, and the ceiling was high, as high as the entire block. I stared up at the lights dangling so far away, and wondered who would knock out entire floors to make a room like that.
But it was beautiful. The carpet was a rich, forest green and soft under my shoes. There was a card table to the right with burgundy velvet on the top and rich wood carvings all around it. The room smelled like old books and rich alcohol, and I had to admit, I really loved it. I took a deep breath and smiled to myself as I let my eyes rest on the desk sitting in the center of the space toward the front, with Don Leone sitting behind it.
There were small horse statues placed all around his desk, and lion heads were carved into either corner. He leaned back in a huge, black chair and smiled at us, still wearing a button-down white shirt with a sweater vest over top it. He gestured at Vlas then pointed to a couch beneath a window on the left.
“Put him there, Dante,” Don Leone said.
Dante and Biagio carried the groaning and mostly unconscious Vlas over to the couch. They dumped him on it and Dante let out a sigh, stretching his back, while Biagio shook out his hands.
