by Dave Daren
Vlado Galic.
I’d only seen him for a second, but I recognized the slick-haired Serbian easily. And he looked pissed, unlike his innocent smile for the cameras during his media stunts for Gryffon. The SUVs disappeared down the street in a haze of tail lights and tinted windows.
Before I could ask what was going on, Anthony held up his hand to silence their conversation. He waited a moment before he motioned for the other two to get out of the car and turned around to face me.
The look on his face was unreadable, but something told me things were about to get serious.
“You aren’t going with us,” he said in a firm voice. “You don’t move a muscle. You’ll stay here and keep an eye out for anyone approaching that house. If anyone shows up, you call me. You don’t call anyone else, not even a text. Got it?”
“So, I’m a lookout?” I asked with a degree of uncertainty. “That’s still--”
“I don’t need to hear about the legal technicalities, Hunter,” Anthony hissed. “Sitting in a car isn’t illegal, but I need to know if you have my fucking back.”
My eyes widened in surprise at Anthony’s statement. He wanted me to help him accomplish something huge, and while I was now sticking a toe in the waters of illegal endeavors, I knew the end result was incredibly important. We couldn’t let Vlado get away with everything he’d done, and I was sick and tired of getting threatened by the Serbian mob.
In that second, I knew I’d already made my decision.
I’d always had Anthony’s back, and I couldn’t stop now.
“Always will,” I said before I pressed my mouth into a thin line.
“Good.” Anthony nodded and opened the door to get out. “Call me if anyone comes back.”
With that, he climbed out of the Plymouth and joined the other two Italians in front of the car. I gnawed on my bottom lip as they hurried across the street, crept through the shadows to the side of the house, and disappeared into the darkness. I couldn’t see them anymore, and my pulse pounded in my temples as I wondered where exactly they went.
I could only assume they went into Vlado’s house, but I hadn’t actually seen them enter, and I couldn’t see them through the curtain in the window since the previous occupants had turned out the lights. I figured they could be inside or in the backyard or at a different house completely. I could probably see for myself if I just looked closely…
Then I decided that wasn’t part of my job.
If I didn’t know what they were doing, I couldn’t be asked about it-- or forced to testify, for that matter. So, I’d stay in the dark.
Literally.
The seconds turned into minutes, then half an hour had passed. The Tahoes didn’t return, and everything seemed to be just fine. Two dogwalkers strolled down the sidewalk, and then a jogger made his way down the road, but they never looked away from their destinations. None of the neighbors seemed interested in the Serbian’s house, and no one even noticed the Plymouth parked in the alley. I didn’t see any movement inside the house, and I realized I’d been holding my breath for so long, it was uncomfortable. I let it out with a sigh that caught in my throat as I saw something move in the shadows.
I squinted my eyes as I peered into the darkness, but a glint of silver confirmed my initial fears.
A Serbian man stood next to the porch with a gun in his hand.
Chapter 15
I froze in my seat as my stomach turned and thoughts raced through my mind.
If I called Anthony, he may not be able to see the guy in time to defend himself, but if I went after him, I would most certainly dive headfirst into becoming an accomplice.
There were risks to each option, but I only had a few seconds to decide.
And I had to make sure Anthony was safe.
I made my choice.
There was more than one way to keep the guard from catching Anthony and the others inside the house, so I’d just have to work on my distraction skills.
I slipped out of the car and scurried into the shadows of the bushes by the sidewalk. Then I peeked through the leaves to see the man had made his way to the front porch.
“Oh, hey, neighbor!” I called out as I stood up and skipped along the concrete stone walkway. “How are you this evening?”
“Fine,” the man grumbled without turning around.
“That’s great!” I said in a cheery voice. “I was just wondering if you’ve seen my dog. She’s a goldendoodle, ya know, a golden retriever and poodle mix? Absolutely beautiful pup, but she’s so hyper--”
“No, I haven’t seen a dog,” he cut me off and waved his hand.
“Well, would you be so kind as to watch out for her?” I continued as I walked closer. “She’s really sweet, wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered before he finally turned to see how close I was. “Hey, wait a second, aren’t you--”
“Well, shit,” I cursed and closed the gap between us.
My face had apparently become well-known among the Serbian mob, and when his eyes lit up with recognition, I had to change my tactics.
I went for the gun first and grabbed his wrist to angle it away from my body. Then I took advantage of his surprise and grabbed the barrel to rip the pistol from his hand. I tossed it into the dark grass a few feet away, and he finally seemed to realize what had happened.
The man released a string of words in Serbian that likely didn’t include a thank you, and then he lunged forward to reach for the gun.
I brought my knee up into his stomach, and he grunted as the blow connected with his solar plexus, but it didn’t slow him down for long. His fist seemed to come from nowhere when it smashed into my jaw from below, and I staggered backward while I regained my bearings.
He went for a shot to my ribs, but I blocked his punch and delivered my own to his lip. Blood dribbled down his chin when he turned back to glare at me, and I threw a jab to his liver. He groaned and fell to his knees in front of me, and I caught a glimpse of his hand creeping toward his pocket. He slipped out a cell phone, and I smacked it out of his hand before he could call for backup. As the phone flew out of his hand, he tried to reach for it again, but I threw my forearm into his neck and knocked him back onto his ass. He clutched at his throat and gasped for air while I stood over him and tried to decide what to do.
This wasn’t the same situation I’d been in with Nelson. If I ran away when I had him down, this guy would still go after Anthony and the others, and we’d be back at square one. If I continued the fight, it would look even worse if anyone found out it was me, which seemed like a decent chance since he had obviously recognized my face.
Before I could decide what to do, he suddenly sprang to his feet and tried to go for the gun again, but I stuck my leg into his path and sent him sprawling across the grass. Then I jumped on top of him and tried to wrap his hands behind his back. If I could just contain him until Anthony was done, maybe we could run to the car without any more problems.
“Get off me!” he hissed as he struggled to get free.
“How do you know me?” I demanded as I leaned down and pressed my forearm to the back of his neck. “Who are you?”
“Guess you don’t know everything, Mr. Morgan,” the man laughed before I shoved his face into the grass.
“Then enlighten me,” I said in a low voice.
He mumbled something against the ground, and I grabbed his hair to lift his head up just enough to hear him. Then the angry Serbian thrashed underneath me, and his arms slithered out of my grasp.
I leaned down to grab him again and was met with an elbow to the temple that knocked me off his back. I tumbled a few feet and rolled into a crouch just as the man came at me with an angry yell.
He attempted a spinning kick to my head, but I snatched his leg mid-air and pushed it away from me. The defensive movement sent him off-balance, which gave me the perfect chance to charge him. I sprinted at him like a runner taking off from the blocks and speared him in the middle of his ch
est.
We landed on one of the concrete stones that led to the front porch, and the man’s head cracked against the circular rock with a hard thud. His body went limp beneath me, and for a moment, I was terrified I’d killed him. That was definitely not one of the options I’d given myself for getting out of this situation.
I sat up and pressed my fingers to his throat to check for a pulse. I let out a sigh of relief when I felt the rhythm of his heartbeat beneath the skin. He wasn’t dead, but he was definitely out cold.
I stood up and brushed the dirt from my jeans and shirt as I looked down at the man who had started to breathe normally again. He was going to have one hell of a headache when he woke up, but at least he wouldn’t be able to catch Anthony and his buddies inside Vlado’s house now.
“What the fuck?” Anthony’s hushed voice came out from the side of the house as he, Jovanni, and the soldier looked at me with wide eyes. “What happened?”
“He was walking around with a gun,” I explained between heaving breaths. “I had to keep him from finding you guys.”
“Damn, this guy is legit,” Jovanni chuckled. “Never had a lawyer fight for me with his fists, only with the law.”
“This isn’t even the first time Hunter’s whipped some guy’s ass,” Anthony bragged with a grin. “I told you guys, he isn’t just some schmuck with a suit and tie. He’s a real badass.”
“Well, he’s certainly gotten some attention,” the soldier murmured as he gestured behind me.
I whirled around to see the previously empty neighborhood had become more populated with onlookers who had apparently heard the noise and came to see what the fight was about. Pretty much all of them had a cell phone in their hands, and at least two of them appeared to be on the phone with someone.
“They’re probably calling the cops,” I whispered with a feeling of dread. “We need to go. Did you do whatever you needed to do?”
“Yeah, we’re good,” Anthony confirmed. “Keep your head down in case they’re recording.”
The three of us nodded to him before we took off at a sprint for the Plymouth. As we dived into the car, I glanced across the street to see a few of the neighbors had made their way into the yard and had the Serbian man sitting up to check on him. It was further confirmation he’d survived our fight, but it didn’t do much to appease my guilty conscience.
I’d just defended a mobster from a security guard. Three mobsters, to be completely accurate. I told myself The security guard was probably also a mobster, but it still felt wrong somehow.
But the more I thought about it, the more I decided wrong wasn’t the right word. In fact, it wasn’t even close. If I was really being honest, I’d say I felt like a damn superhero just then.
I was a little worried about how good I felt knowing I’d been able to protect Anthony and his crew from someone who would have kept all of us from reaching our goal or, worse, turned us over to Vlado Galic. I’d proven myself to be loyal in the face of a sink-or-swim moment, and I’d felt a rush of pride when my client had bragged about my ability to help them.
The realization of my true feelings left me silent as Anthony backed down the alley and turned around to drive a few blocks away from the incident before he returned to the main road. It was a smart plan to keep the neighbors from being able to identify the vehicle, even if it couldn’t be tied to my client.
As we drove slowly away from Vlado’s house, sirens wailed in the distance, and then four cops zoomed past us with red and blues that lit up the entire street. They cruised by without slowing down, and it seemed Anthony’s diversionary route had worked. The patrol cars skidded to a stop far behind us, and we continued out of Astoria toward the LIE without another look back.
It was a quiet drive, and I wondered if anyone else was concerned with how close we’d come to getting caught at the Serbian’s place. Maybe they were used to close calls with the law, but I hadn’t been in any kind of legal trouble my whole life.
The worst thing I’d done as a teenager was take a drag of a senior’s cigarette under the bleachers. It had tasted like shit, and I felt like the stench of smoke followed me around for a week. I never touched one again, and I hadn’t even been caught.
Pretty soon I realized we were headed the wrong way on the expressway, which meant we clearly weren’t on our way to Riverhead. We crossed a bridge into Manhattan, and I looked out the window at the neighborhood on the other side of the water. I didn’t recognize any of the buildings, but almost all the signs were in Chinese, so we had to be in Chinatown. I no longer worried about being taken to some secret place for my death since I’d obviously proven myself, but I was still curious about the next stop on our little journey.
What would the Italian Mafia need to do in Chinatown?
I debated asking Anthony, whose excitement at my fight had died down once we saw the crowd gathering in Astoria, but he hadn’t said a word since we got on the road. He seemed lost in his own thoughts, and I didn’t think interrupting them would work out well.
So, instead, I sat in silence as we drove around Chinatown until we reached a dimly lit parking garage. Anthony turned into the drive under flickering fluorescent lights and paused just out of view of the street.
We waited with only the clattering sound of the decades-old engine in the background for nearly ten minutes before Anthony climbed out and glanced over at the rest of us. We quickly followed suit and stood next to the car.
My eyes drifted down to a familiar silver case in Anthony’s hand, and I sucked in a deep breath. Before I could open my mouth, there was a slight movement to our left.
Then an old Chinese man who looked like he’d stepped straight out of a karate movie walked out of the shadows and held out his hand. Anthony dropped the keys into his palm without a word, and the man gestured to another area of the parking garage behind him with a bow.
We followed Anthony into the shadows, and he pulled something out of his pocket. I heard the familiar beep of a car unlocking as tail lights lit up in front of us, and Anthony slid into the driver’s seat. The rest of us took the same places as we had in the Plymouth, and this time, the sound of the motor starting was more of a pleasant purr than a rough grind.
Anthony tucked the silver case into the seat next to him before he released a sigh and smiled.
“Much better,” he mused as he ran his hands up and down the leather steering wheel.
“You’re glad to be back in the Chrysler, eh, boss?” Jovanni chuckled.
“Very,” my client agreed with a grin. “Let’s get the hell out of Chinatown.”
With that, he threw the car in gear, and the tires squealed on the smooth concrete as he pulled around and past the Chinese man. The Plymouth was already gone, and I watched the old man with curiosity as we left the mysterious parking garage.
“Where did the other car go?” I blurted out.
“To get a detail,” Anthony answered mildly. “Where else?”
“It didn’t smell like it had been detailed since disco was cool,” I muttered.
“Then it clearly needed one,” he laughed. “No one will ever be able to tell it smelled like dirty diapers and Jovanni’s cologne.”
“Hey, my mother bought me that!” Jovanni sounded offended. “She said it smells great on me!”
“Did she say she liked your haircut, too?” I snorted.
Anthony and his nameless soldier roared with laughter while Jovanni’s face turned scarlet red as he clenched his jaw.
“Anyway, Bai is the best in the detail business,” Anthony continued once he’d caught his breath. “He’ll have that thing looking brand spanking new.”
“I’d be interested to see that miracle,” I laughed as I glanced at my watch. “Any other stops tonight? It’s almost three in the morning, and I’m ready for my bed.”
“And your lady friend?” Jovanni scoffed. “She’s smoking hot.”
“Yeah, she is,” I agreed. “And I don’t share.”
“Oh, yeah?” The
capo turned to raise an eyebrow at me before he grinned and shook his head. “Some coglioni on this one, huh, boss?”
“You saw for yourself,” Anthony said and shook his head. “Hunter doesn’t take much shit.”
“As a rule, I don’t talk much about what we do,” Jovanni replied before he turned to look at me again. “But you saved our asses in there, taking out that Serb segaiolo. That really did take some balls.”
“Letting you get caught didn’t seem like a great idea,” I admitted. “I had a feeling that would severely impact my standing as a lookout.”
“Yes, I do think that would’ve made you the worst lookout in history,” Anthony agreed with a chuckle.
“Oh, no, you don’t remember Little Donny?” Jovanni chimed in.
Anthony and the other Italian groaned.
“Who’s Little Donny?” I asked.
“One of Sal’s capo’s kids who was so determined to move up the ranks, he said he’d take any job Sal gave him,” Anthony answered. “Let’s just say he decided a woman on the corner had more of his attention than looking out did.”
“And he was very upset to find out her prices were well above his lookout pay grade,” Jovanni cackled.
“Ohhh,” I said with a grimace. “Yeah, I think I can do better than that.”
“You did,” Anthony agreed. “You definitely did.”
The conversation died down, and I tried to pretend I was still uncomfortable with their open talk about Mafia jobs and lookouts, but the truth was, it was becoming more second nature to me.
Yeah, I was a lawyer, and I’d busted my ass to be one, but the job with the Febbos had fallen into my lap. At first, the entire situation had been terrifying. I didn’t know if any failure in the courtroom would end in my horrific death, either at the hands of my client or his well-known father.
Then I’d gotten to know Anthony and realized he wasn’t the same as Salvatore Febbo. He’d had dreams of a Mafia-free life, even though it had eventually sucked him back in. And now, I was sucked in, too.
