by Dave Daren
“It’s fine,” I reassured him. “The new house is a lot closer than my apartment. And I need a fresh suit. I’ll let you know if I find anything in the pattern.”
“Keep me updated on Rossi, too,” my employer told me.
“Of course,” I said. “And I’ll let you know how the paperwork for those companies goes.”
The young mafioso yawned again while he waved his hand to dismiss me but didn’t address the opening that I’d left him. I wasn’t sure how much he knew about his father’s plans, but he had that stubborn set to his jaw that told me that I wouldn’t get anything else out of him.
I waited a few more beats before I started to pack up my briefcase. I stuffed the papers into the empty file that Anthony pulled out of the desk, secured it in my briefcase, and then trotted down the stairs as quietly as I could.
“Have a good night,” Michael said with a tired wave from the sitting room.
His toupee had disappeared, and he was in his night clothes with a glass of grappa on the table and a book in his hands.
“You, too,” I said.
The night air was cold as I stepped out of the house. I shivered, and the chill air revived me enough that I knew I would make it back home without a problem. I jogged down the stairs, unlocked my car, and glanced around for my massive bodyguard.
“Time to go?” Hank asked as he strolled up to me from the tree line.
“Yep,” I said. “Another long day is done.”
“Are you okay to drive home?” the Italian man asked as he looked me over.
“Man, I must look like shit,” I chuckled.
The bodyguard didn’t answer, he just shrugged and then walked over to a guard that called his name.
I watched for a few seconds, but it was late, and I knew that my shadow would catch up with me so I climbed in my car. I grinned as the engine purred to life, and I rolled down the window to let the cool air wash over me before I started down the long driveway.
There were a surprising amount of cars on the road for three a.m. on a weeknight, but I chalked it up to the party-goers coming home from a long night of drinks and loud music, especially when some of them weaved between the lanes.
I was so exhausted that it took me a few minutes before I realized that Hank still hadn’t caught up with me. I watched in my rear-view mirror as I switched lanes, but I still didn't see the familiar black Chrysler 300 that normally matched my every move. But another car followed my shift and then quickly fell back to let a convertible in between us.
I didn’t recognize the dark blue sedan, but for all I knew it was just Hank in a different car. I didn’t know every car on the Febbo estate, and the other Chrysler 300s could have been called back for an event, though I was fairly certain that it would’ve been mentioned at some point in the evening. I took a deep breath and shook my head as I tried to clear the fog of sleepiness. I needed to be fully awake if the car was filled with Galic’s men.
The new car stayed in the middle lane as I switched over to the fast lane, and I laughed at myself for being so paranoid. It was probably just someone on their way home that just happened to get over when I did. Then I saw as the blue sedan moved behind me again. I was fully awake now, and I reached for my phone as I tried not to freak out. I couldn’t tell if it was the feds, the cops, or the Serbians.
But one thing was clear, someone was following me home, and I had no idea where my bodyguard was.
Chapter 4
I glanced down at my phone long enough to make sure that I had the right number before I hit the send button, and then I waited. I turned the volume down on my radio as the ringing filled the cabin, and then I realized I had to roll up the windows as well so that I’d be able to hear Hank when he finally answered.
“Everything okay?” the bodyguard asked on the second ring.
“Not sure,” I said.
I made a quick change from the fast lane over to the middle lane and watched in the rear-view mirror as the blue sedan slid behind a semi.
“What’s wrong?” Hank asked.
“Well,” I hedged as I eased the gas pedal down. “I’d really like for you to tell me you decided to drive a dark blue sedan.”
There was silence for a few seconds before Italian poured through the speakers. I recognized some of the words and could easily guess what the rest of them were. I took a deep breath as the driver sped around the semi so he was on my left.
“I got stuck behind a wreck,” Hank finally said in English. “I’ll be there in a few minutes. Just stay on the LIE. And don’t hang up. I want to be able to hear them if they start shooting.”
“Let’s hope they don’t,” I said.
My heart raced as the sedan inched closer to my back bumper. I recognized the Chevy symbol in its front grill and was fairly certain that it was an Impala. I could outrun them if I needed to, but there were enough people on the road that there might be a pileup if they gave chase.
“What are they doing?” my bodyguard asked.
The sound of his engine roared to life, and I could picture him weaving through traffic on his way to catch up. I kept an eye on my rear-view and side mirrors as I tried to watch the stalker while I waited for the familiar black Chrysler 300 to catch up with me.
“They’re closer to my ass than a hemorrhoid,” I huffed.
“Are their windows up?” the Italian man asked.
I glanced in the side mirror but noticed that the Impala had fallen back a quarter of a mile.
“I think so,” I said. “But I can’t be sure. I think they slowed down.”
“You sure you didn’t speed up?” Hank chuckled. “What are they driving?”
“Uh… I think it’s a Chevy Impala,” I answered.
“Well, at least they won’t be able to keep up with us when we try to lose them,” he replied.
I thought about the choice of car. It was definitely better for blending in than it would be in a race, so they were probably hoping to follow me home without being noticed. The realization made my blood run cold.
“I think they were trying to blend in,” I said.
“Do you think it’s the feds?” my bodyguard asked.
“No,” I said. “I’d recognize their Crown Vic. These guys haven’t been close enough for me to see their faces, and I’m guessing that’s because I might recognize them. They could be cops or Galic’s guys.”
“What exit are you near?” Hank asked.
“I’m two miles from my exit,” I said.
“Alright,” the Italian said. “I think I see you. Go ahead and switch over to the right lane. I want to see what they do.”
“Sure,” I muttered.
I almost flipped on my blinker but stopped myself just in time. I didn’t need to signal my plans to them, but if they were cops, then it would be a reason to pull me over. I debated for a couple seconds and then took the risk. I slid over behind a white Ford Escalade with its blinker on and waited.
“Yep, they’re tailing you,” the bodyguard said before he let out another string of colorful Italian words. “Alright. I’m going to speed up and cut them off. I want you to gun it. Get to the exit after Floral Park and take that one.”
“What if they catch up?” I asked.
I did not want to lead anyone back to my house. I’d enjoyed the last two weeks without anyone showing up unannounced to threaten my life, and I wanted that to continue for as long as I could.
“Just take the long way home,” Hank said.
His black Chrysler 300 moved in my rear-view mirror until he was right next to the Chevy.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll see you back at the house.”
I gunned it and shot down the LIE just as Hank swerved in front of the Impala. I shifted lanes to narrowly miss a dark green mini-van and received a honk from an angry soccer mom who threw her middle finger up at me. I glanced behind me to see that the blue sedan had tried to get around Hank, but the bodyguard continued to block them, and they had to move to the fast lane so th
at they wouldn’t be run over by a semi.
The Floral Park exit flew past, and I moved back into the far right lane so that I could take the next exit. I’d made it far enough ahead that I couldn’t see my tail, but I didn’t want to risk them noticing me, so I waited until the last possible second before I shot off of the exit.
“Did you get off the highway alright?” my bodyguard huffed.
Tires screeched through the speakers, and I glanced over at the radio as if it would tell me whether he was okay or not.
“Hank?” I asked when I didn’t hear another string of Italian swear words.
“I’m alright,” he grumbled. “Did you make it off of the exit?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I don’t see them.”
“They didn’t get over in time,” Hank said. “I’m going to follow them. I’ll call you back.”
The line went dead, and I focused on trying to find my way back to the house. I pulled into the well-lit parking lot of a gas station and typed the address into my cell. I wasn’t too far offtrack, maybe ten miles, and it looked like it would only add an extra fifteen minutes.
My heart still raced as I followed the robotic woman’s instructions. Every time I made a turn I looked into each of my mirrors as if the Chevy would spring out of the shadows. I didn’t reach the house until almost four a.m., and every time I blinked my eyes burned.
Hank still hadn’t called me back, but there weren’t any strange cars parked on the street, so I pulled into the garage and hoped that no one had seen me come in. I held my briefcase in one hand and tugged out my gun with the other. The cold steel was comforting as I pulled the door open and walked into the house.
I flicked on the switch right next to the door to the garage and warm yellow light poured over the short hallway. I didn’t see anything out of place, but I didn’t want to take any chances. I slowly put my briefcase down, kicked off my shoes so that I wouldn’t make any extra noise, and began to prowl through my house.
The kitchen and living room were easy enough to check, though the tall floor lamp behind the sectional almost gave me a heart attack when I saw it out of the corner of my eye. I could’ve sworn it was a skinny man, but when I whirled around and aimed my weapon at him it was just a shiny silver pole with a lamp shade on top. I looked up at the vaulted ceilings like I expected there to be some assassin waiting for me, but it was just as empty as the rest of the house.
I still made a quick pass into the bedrooms, office, and bathrooms, but each room was vacant. I slid my gun back into its holster on my hip, took a deep breath in, and then walked into the kitchen to splash cold water on my face. I was safe for the moment, and it didn’t seem like anyone had figured out where I was living, yet.
My phone hadn’t rung, though, and I wondered if Hank was still in the car chase, or if he’d managed to find out who the hell had been in the car. He was smart enough that he’d fall back if he saw a gun, but I wouldn’t be able to sleep until I was sure he was safe. At least I’d brought my copy of the Gryffon files home.
I retrieved my briefcase from the hallway, put it on the coffee table in front of the sectional, and flipped on the TV before I headed to the bedroom. I changed into some gym shorts and a t-shirt, checked my phone again, and then went back to the living room.
There wasn’t anything worth watching on TV, so I switched over to Netflix and put on The Great British Baking Show. I wasn’t that interested in cooking, but Liz had made me watch the first few episodes, and I’d enjoyed the less dramatic competition and the explanation of how different breads were made. I could also have it on in the background while I worked, and I wouldn’t be too distracted.
My laptop took a few seconds to boot up, and I checked my phone again to make sure that it wasn’t on silent. I figured if something happened that Anthony would give me a call, and then wondered if I should give him a ring just to let him know about my tail. I decided against it since he was probably already in bed, and Hank would be able to tell him more when he called it in.
A yawn reminded me that I hadn’t slept in almost twenty-four hours, and I glanced at the clock on my computer to see that it was almost six a.m.. I had my first court hearing at nine. I debated whether I should just brew a pot of coffee, but I was awake enough that it could wait since I would probably drink more than the recommended amount throughout the day.
I pulled up my email first, a habit I’d gotten into when I worked at my old law firm, and then grinned when I saw that I had an email from the Queens court system. My hearing had been pushed back until three p.m., and that meant that I would be able to sleep at least a few hours. I’d still have to chug caffeine like I had in law school, but it wouldn’t be the first time I’d operated on three hours of sleep, and the only case for the day was an easy one. I did need to make sure that my client wouldn’t be on probation, but the charges were more bullshit that wouldn’t stick once it was in front of a judge.
Another yawn tugged at my mouth, and my eyes watered as exhaustion washed over me. It was like the moment my body realized that it would be able to sleep, it wanted it right then. I shook my head, slapped my cheeks a few times, and then stretched to get the blood flowing.
I almost jumped out of my skin when my phone started to ring. I must’ve dozed off because my head was on the back of the couch, and my laptop had slid off of my legs to lay sideways on the plush sofa cushion. I reached for my cell phone as it bounced across the coffee table and hit the answer button as soon as I saw Anthony’s name.
“Hello?” I said.
“Are you okay?” Anthony asked.
His voice was groggy like he’d just woken up, and I thought I heard the sound of his mattress squeaking as he climbed out of bed.
“Yeah,” I said. “No one was in the house. I checked. Have you heard from Hank?”
“He’s alright,” my employer said. “He called and told me what happened.”
I let out a relieved sigh, and then wondered if he was already outside or if he’d gone back to the Febbo estate to check in. I wasn’t even sure where he lived or what he did on his nights off. I made a mental note to ask him when I saw him later.
“I’m glad he’s good,” I said. “Did he tell you who it was?”
“No,” he said. “They tried to speed off when they realized that you had company. He caught up to them, but they pulled a gun, so he had to drop back.”
I shook my head as I listened to Anthony’s barebones version of events. I was glad that they hadn’t opened fire on the LIE, though that probably meant that it wasn’t the feds. They simply would have ordered Hank to pull over and then taken him in for an ‘interview’. I wouldn’t put it past some of the dirty cops I’d dealt with to try and follow me home, or pull a gun on Hank, but my money was on Galic’s thugs.
“Did he get a good look at them?” I asked.
My legs were stiff, so I stood and began to pace around the room to stay awake.
“He didn’t recognize them,” Anthony huffed. “It was too dark to see enough details, and they only rolled down the window enough so that they could show him the barrel of the gun.”
“Damn,” I muttered as I ran my hand through my messy hair. “Well, at least Hank’s okay, and they didn’t find out where I live.”
“But those stronzos still had the nerve to follow you in the first place,” the mafioso growled.
I could hear his feet on the tile as he walked just as I was doing, and I heard Gulia as she greeted him and invited him to breakfast. I swore under my breath as I looked at my watch. Somehow, I’d slept for an hour while I’d waited for an update.
The sky outside had already started to turn gray with hints of rose and gold, and as I stepped out onto my patio I could hear the birds chirping as they greeted the day.
“It was bound to happen,” I responded.
I tried to sound calm, but my heart raced as I thought about Galic and his men coming into my home. I was sure that there would be some form of retaliation for the guard that I
’d beaten up. I hadn’t hit him hard enough that the guy would’ve forgotten my face, and I knew that he’d recognized me.
“Could’ve waited a little longer,” Anthony responded. “If anyone shows up, you give Hank or me a call, and it’ll be taken care of.”
“I will,” I chuckled.
“I know you can handle your own, Hunter,” my employer said. “But these Serbians can be brutal. Don’t try to take them without backup.”
“I have no intention to do so,” I said.
They’d already managed to kidnap Rossi, and the enforcer was a much better fighter than I was. I’d been in plenty of fights in my life, but to get the drop on the big man was impressive. I wouldn’t underestimate the Serbians, especially after the shootout at Pietro’s a few months ago.
“When’s court?” Anthony asked.
“My case was pushed back to three p.m.,” I said as I walked around my black tiled pool.
“Good, get some rest,” the mafia man ordered.
“I’ll be in bed in a little bit,” I said. “I want to call Liz and make sure she’s okay.”
“They’ll probably leave her alone since she’s back in London,” Anthony said. “But you’re right, it’s a good idea to check in with her. Text me if she says anything seems fishy. I can have someone come over from Italy in less than twelve hours.”
“I’ll let her know,” I said with a grin. “I’m sure she’ll appreciate the offer.”
“Of course,” the Italian said. “And remind her that she’s welcome at the vineyard anytime.”
Anthony hung up without another word, and I strolled back inside to grab a glass of water while I dialed Liz. I did some quick math and realized that it was already noon in London, but on the third ring the gorgeous blonde picked up.
“Hey,” she said.
She sounded as exhausted as I felt, like she would fall asleep at her desk, and I grinned as I realized that we were both in the same boat.
“Hey,” I replied. “How are you doing?”
“Fine,” the beautiful lawyer replied. “I was about to get a complex. I’ve been back for a few days now, and you haven’t called or texted me. I was starting to think you’d forgotten all about me.”
