Power Players Box Set- The Complete Series

by Cassia Leo

  “What the fuck?” he mutters as he reaches for his jaw.

  He winces when he feels the swelling. Then he tastes the blood in his mouth and spits out a tooth into his hand.

  “You fuckin’ busted my jaw. And my tooth!”

  “You shouldn’t have made me chase you. I hate chasing people, Lenny.”

  He spits more blood into his cupped hand.

  “Watch the leather or I’ll fucking kill you, you pig.”

  “Fuck you!” he slurs.

  Billy takes him into a headlock again and Lenny’s sneakers push against the floor of the car, trying to get some leverage to headbutt him.

  “Lenny, you better calm the fuck down, or I’ll make you watch as I fuck your wife’s brains out.”

  “All right, all right, all right!”

  I nod at Billy as Lenny stops struggling. Billy releases him, but Lenny has to be a fucking asshole and land an elbow to Billy’s ribs. Billy clocks him on the side of the head and Bruno and I laugh.

  “Take that, you cocksucking piece of shit,” Billy says, spittle flying.

  I hold my hand up to stop him from inflicting any more damage. I need Lenny conscious.

  “That’s enough. Now give him your fucking shirt so he doesn’t bleed everywhere.”

  Billy pulls off his jacket and dress shirt. Then he pulls off his undershirt and shoves it into Lenny’s lap before he gets dressed again.

  Lenny takes the shirt and wipes the blood from his mouth and chin. “What the fuck do you want?”

  “You know what I want, Lenny. I want to know who’s hiding Tony. If you give me a name today, I’ll let you go and I won’t fuck your wife in front of you and your kids. I may even let you live to see your fortieth birthday. So what do you say, Lenny? You ready to tell me whose shithole I need to look inside to find Tony’s weasel ass?”

  He shakes his head, but I can tell he’s trying not to cry. He already cried in front of me once, and he got away with his life that time. But he’s got too much pride to do it again.

  “Fuck,” he whispers, closing his eyes, resigning himself to his fate. “Nico… Nico Trapani. He’s… He’s Geneva’s boyfriend.”

  “I know fucking Nico Trapani.”

  Geneva Angelo, Tony Angelo’s daughter, got herself involved with Nico Trapani a couple of years ago. I should have known there was more to it than her having bad taste in men.

  “I don’t know where Tony is, but Nico does.” He spits into the T-shirt again, and he’s still bleeding pretty bad. “Can I go now? I swear that’s all I know about Tony.”

  “We’ll let you go, Lenny. But first you must be taught a lesson. Because you should have given me this information three days ago.”

  His eyes widen with panic. “But you wanted to know about Rebecca. I don’t know nothin’ about Rebecca.”

  “Are you sure you don’t know anything about Rebecca?” I nod at Billy and he twists Lenny’s arm behind his back.

  “Ow! Motherfucker!”

  “Answer the question, Lenny!”

  Lenny’s cries make me sick to my stomach. I can’t stand to see a guy I grew up with reduced to a sniveling rat. But that’s all he is now. And even if I don’t kill him, someone else will.

  “Please. I don’t know nothin’ about Rebecca. I swear on my fucking kids’ lives. I don’t know nothin’!”

  I nod and Billy lets him go, though I’m pretty sure I heard one of Lenny’s bones snap. He’ll remember this meeting for a while. And he’ll stay quiet about it for as long as he can. At least a few days.

  That’s all I need now that I have Nico’s name. In less than forty-eight hours, Rebecca will be home. With me.

  And Tony will be dead.

  Chapter 10

  John isn’t happy that I left Lenny alive. I can take some heat from John if it means Lenny sweats it out a while longer. Besides, I like the idea of Lenny being taken out by one of his own. It’s more poetic.

  “All right. I’ll see you tomorrow night, John.”

  “Nothing matters except Rebecca. Don’t forget that.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Good boy. See you tomorrow.”

  Ending the call, I tuck the phone into my coat pocket. I’m not actually going to see John tomorrow night. I’m flying to Newfoundland to pick him up tonight. But I can never be too careful. Sometimes even the master must be kept in the dark.

  I peel off my jacket and leave it on the backseat. Then I roll up my sleeves and step out of the car.

  As I walk through the corridor toward the garage where I brought Rebecca five weeks ago, I’m struck by the irony of how it all started. And tonight, this is the beginning of the end.

  I chose this location because I knew it would remind me of her. And like John said, I have to remember that nothing else matters. Not his escape. Not my vendetta. Nothing. Except Rebecca.

  Entering the garage, the first thing that hits me is the smell. It smells like stale motor oil, blood, and piss. Then I glimpse Nico Trapani sitting on a metal chair in the center of the room, hands tied behind his back and each of his ankles bound to the front chair legs. His head is slumped over, and a thin rope of drool is dangling from his mouth.

  It’s showtime.

  “What the fuck is this?” I shout at Bruno.

  “You told us to rough him up.”

  “I told you to rough him up, not turn him into a fucking vegetable. Are you idiots? Get the fuck out of here!” Bruno and Billy look confused, but they have to. They’re good actors. “Get out!”

  “Sorry, boss,” Bruno mutters as he passes me.

  “You’ll be real fucking sorry later on. Get the fuck out of here.”

  They leave the garage, and as the door clicks shut behind them, I imagine them out in the corridor laughing silently. They’re good kids, those two.

  I grab another metal chair from the corner and set it down a few feet in front of Nico, with the back of the chair facing him. Then I straddle the seat and rest my arms on the back of the chair and watch him for a moment.

  His light-brown hair is slick with sweat and probably blood. His Knicks jacket is torn at the collar, and his gray sweat pants have grass stains on the knees. He must have put up a fight when they picked him up.

  “When I was four months old, I fell off the sofa and hit my ear on the wood floor,” I begin my story. It’s the same story I’ve used at least a half-dozen times before, but it’s very effective. If it ain’t broke…. “My mother took me to the hospital, and the doctor told her I would probably never hear out of my left ear again. He also told her I would probably have trouble learning how to speak and I’d be behind in all my classes. Basically, he told her I’d be in the fucking cripple classes for the rest of my life.”

  Nico’s chest rises and falls slowly, but he doesn’t acknowledge me.

  “But my ma wasn’t having that. She started me on speech therapy when I was one year old. And she didn’t listen when the therapists told her I needed a hearing aid. When I was four, she took me to a doctor who did experimental surgery on me, and I regained most of the hearing in my left ear.” I laugh as I think of what a crock of shit this story is. “My ma was a real ball-buster. She was a fighter. She wouldn’t give up. And by the time I was seven years old, I didn’t need any more speech therapy.”

  I push my chair closer to Nico, and he finally looks up. His left eye is swollen shut. His nose is broken and bloody. His bottom lip is split wide open, and that’s why he’s drooling like a baby.

  I continue, undaunted by his appearance. “So you see, I loved my mother. She liked to help people. So, naturally, I like to help people. And I want to help you, Nick. Do you mind if I call you Nick?” I pause for a moment, but he doesn’t say anything. “Of course you don’t mind. Anyway, I want to help you get out of this building alive. I want to help your mother, your sister, your girlfriend, and the baby she’s carrying, live to see another day. You understand what I’m saying? I want to help you, Nick. But I can’t help you if you don’t
cooperate.”

  His head falls forward again, and I let out a loud sigh as I stand from my chair and kick it aside. This gets his attention and he looks up at me again.

  “Fuck you,” he mumbles, his words tripping over his fat lips, “and your mother.”

  I nod as I chuckle. “That’s right, Nick. Make this more difficult. That’s exactly what your family wants.” I turn around and yell at the door, “Bruno! Bring her in!”

  Nico’s good eye widens as he watches the door. The metal door swings open and Bruno walks in with Geneva Angelo. She’s blindfolded and her hands are tied behind her back, but otherwise, she’s untouched.

  “Genie!” I call out excitedly. “Long time no see.”

  “What the fuck is this?” she asks as she’s led forward.

  “Let her go!” Nico shouts. “This ain’t got nothing to do with her.”

  “Nicky, is that you? What’s going on?”

  “Don’t panic, Genie. Stress is not good for the baby.”

  “Who are you?” she shrieks as she attempts unsuccessfully to break free of Bruno’s grip.

  I walk up to her so she can hear my voice clearly, but I leave her blindfold on. I pull a hunting blade out of my back pocket and Nico watches as I unfold the knife.

  “Should I tell her who I am, Nick? Or should I show her?”

  He shakes his head and fights against his restraints. “Please, don’t do this. I’ll….”

  “What will you do, Nick? Will you tell me what I want to hear, or will you tell me the truth? Because I’ve gotta be real honest with you. Genie won’t appreciate it if you lie to me. Will you, Genie?”

  I press the tip of the knife to her jaw and she flinches.

  “What the fuck was that? Nicky, what’s going on?”

  “I can’t!” Nico roars.

  “Listen to your girlfriend, Nick.” I trace the knife down her neck and stop when it’s just above her belly.

  “Jesus Christ,” she breathes. “Just tell him!”

  If Genie knew what she was trying to convince Nico to tell me, she’d probably rather I kill her and her unborn child. But she won’t find out until it’s too late.

  I smile at Nico as I make a little sawing motion in front of Genie’s belly. He gags then vomits a little onto his lap. I’ve never hurt a woman in my line of work, and I never will. But Nico doesn’t know that.

  “Fine. But get her out of here.”

  “Thatta boy, Nick. I knew you’d make the right choice.” I nod at Bruno and he hauls Genie out of the garage. Then I retrieve the chair I kicked aside and take a seat in front of Nico again. “All right, Nick. Let’s do this fast so we can both get out of here. Where is Tony Angelo?”

  Nico tells me the story of his cousin’s family who owns a goat farm in Vermont. They’ve been paid well to keep Tony hidden for the last year as he prepared to return to New York with a new identity. He’s running out of cash. And he’s tired of living in a basement like a rat.

  Nico insists his cousin’s family will be out of the house tomorrow night since they’re coming to Bensonhurst for the Santa Rosalia Feast. He swears he doesn’t know where Rebecca is, but he knows Tony’s definitely the one calling the shots with her.

  Nico doesn’t know this, but he just signed his own death warrant. I had already planned to kill him, but I thought I’d give him a day or two locked up in this garage to share some more secrets. Now, I can’t risk anything getting back to Tony.

  “Thank you, Nick. You’ve helped me out tremendously.”

  “Can I go now?”

  I stand from the chair and pull it back into the corner as I give myself a mental pat on the back. It’s always a victory when I make someone talk without any further bloodshed.

  “I told you everything I know. You gotta let me go!”

  I exit the garage and Bruno is waiting with Genie just outside the door. “Take her to the loft on Madison. Make sure she’s comfortable. She’s gonna be there a few days.”

  Billy looks at me with that gleam in his eyes. He’s ready for his instructions. I nod at him; then I set off down the corridor as he heads back into the garage. I don’t stick around to hear the gunshot.

  Chapter 11

  The flight from Newark to St. John’s Airport in Newfoundland is exactly eight hours. My jet gets us there in two hours and forty-five minutes. As soon as we land in Terra Nova, a helicopter is already waiting to take us to John’s hideaway.

  John’s hideaway. Sounds like a fucking dive bar. But it’s not. John Veneto, King of Bensonhurst, has been living in the basement of a farmhouse in the Newfoundland countryside.

  I’ve got a variety of hideaways stashed across the globe. I fly all my clients to and from those locations on my private fleet. We doctor flight logs and sometimes we’ll zig-zag the globe in a dizzying pattern to get the high-profile clients from one location to another.

  But I’m going straight to John’s hideaway today because he won’t be going back there after tonight. Once Tony is dead, John can go home to Bensonhurst and resume control of the neighborhood, once his lawyer gets him off. And I can find Rebecca.

  And propose to her.

  The one-hour helicopter ride over the green countryside is humbling. I don’t even know what Rebecca’s plans are for the future. Does she want to live in Manhattan forever? Would she like living in the country? Does she want to have kids?

  This is all stuff I would have asked her if I’d known she was going to be taken. She would have thought I was crazy, but I don’t give a fuck. I want to spend the rest of my life with her. But I want to do this the right way. I’m going to ask John for her hand.

  The helicopter touches down just before eleven in the morning. The couple who live on the dairy farm come out to greet me. Mildred and Joshua Raine cover their heads as the helicopter blades slowly stop rotating. Mildred smiles as I approach, not at all perturbed by my sudden appearance.

  “Mr. Savage, you look hungry,” she shouts over the whoosh of the helicopter rotors.

  Joshua holds out his hand and I shake it firmly. “Good morning, Mr. Raine.” I turn to Mildred and take her hand in both of mine. “No time to eat today, Mrs. Raine. I’ve got to get John back home.”

  “Of course,” she replies. “Come inside.”

  The inside of Mildred and Joshua’s humble farmhouse kitchen is uncomfortably warm, as usual. Mildred is always cooking, or she keeps a small space heater on in the kitchen to keep it warm enough to rise dough. She bakes her own bread using the grain from an experimental wheat crop planted two years ago. At some point today, she’ll complain about the short growing season or the wild caribou crushing her wheat stalks.

  “I just took a loaf of sourdough out of the oven. Take it with you, dear,” she says, grabbing a round loaf of bread covered in a light checkered cloth off the table.

  She tries to hand it to me and I chuckle. “No, thank you, Mrs. Raine. I’m here to pick up John, and that’s all. If I eat all that bread, I’ll go soft in the middle.”

  “You need to live a little, Mr. Savage. Life’s not all about business, you know.”

  She says this with a wink as she leads me toward the shiny oak door under the stairs, which leads down to the basement. Mildred Raine spent a good portion of her life savings to visit me in my Manhattan office three years ago. Her son was on the run. The Canadian authorities and the DEA wanted him on suspicion of drug trafficking. He could feel the net closing in on him, and he was staring down forty years to life in an American prison if he was extradited.

  I don’t know or care if Mildred’s son was guilty. All I know and care about is that, by helping Mildred’s son get to a safe house in Brazil, I gained two very important allies in the Raines. And they’ve been paid handsomely to harbor John for the past five months. The checks they’ll receive in the coming years to ensure their silence will more than make up for a bad wheat harvest.

  I step into the stairwell and John is already standing at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for me.


  “Boy, it’s good to see you.” He pulls me into a bone-crushing hug and slaps me hard on the back. “I’ve been going stir-crazy down here.”

  I pull away and take a step back to look at him. His skin is sallow from the lack of sunlight and his belly looks a bit soft from all the bread Mildred’s been feeding him. I don’t say it aloud, but I’m worried he’s not ready to take on Tony and his goons tonight.

  “It’s good to see you too, John. You ready to go?”

  “As ready as a Bronx whore.”

  I thank Mildred and Joshua for their assistance, and Mildred sheds a few tears when she hugs John goodbye.

  “Who’s going to eat my homemade pizza now?” she laments as she latches onto Joshua for support.

  “Throw a little grass on there and the caribou will eat it,” John shouts as the helicopter starts up.

  She waves off this suggestion, and John and I wave goodbye as we hop into the chopper. The helicopter is too noisy for us to talk. But as soon as the jet takes off from St. John’s Airport, I begin mentally preparing myself to talk to John.

  “You look nervous,” John remarks as the flight attendant hands him his lemonade. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look nervous.”

  “I’ve been thinking. Maybe you should let me do this on my own. I don’t want to know how it would affect Rebecca if you got hurt.”

  “Rebecca hasn’t spoken to me in four years. She wouldn’t know if I got hurt unless she read it in a fucking newspaper.”

  “Yeah, that’s exactly it. She hasn’t spoken to you in four years, and she still wants to help you. That’s gotta tell you something.”

  I don’t want to press too hard, but I really don’t think it’s a good idea for John to be tagging along on dangerous missions like the one we have planned for tonight.

  “Look, Marco, the bottom line is that she’s my little girl. And I’m not going to let a lowlife criminal like Tony Angelo use my little girl in his scheme to take over the neighborhood. I’m gonna take that motherfucker down myself. Understand?”