by Kara Hart
I’m left with a knot in my throat, tears in my eyes, and a racing heartbeat. I feel like my legs are about to fold in any second. I don’t say anything and I think he gets the picture, since he’s close to the door. I don’t want to take any chances so I continue to stay silent.
“Oh! I have another question for you, doll,” he claps his hands loudly. “You haven’t seen a man recently? About six feet tall, a big and burly type of guy. He’s got slicked back hair and tattoos?”
My stomach drops. Hunter? Did he know? He couldn’t. “The only people I’ve seen lately are your friends, Ricky,” I calmly say, though I feel like my voice is about to give out. “Just your friends and our family. That’s it.”
He leans against the door and strokes his chin. “Hmm. You sure about that?” he asks me.
I gulp down hard and try to remain strong. “I’m sure about that,” I say, unable to break eye contact.
He tosses a picture my way and it lands on the floor. I bend over to pick it up and I instantly see Hunter’s face. It’s an old picture. He looks younger, about my brother’s age now. He’s got a heather grey suit on and he looks dapper and confident.
“I’m trying to find this guy. If you get any leads, send them my way. Okay?” He waits for my reaction to the picture, but I don’t let him see through me. If he does somehow know, my whole family is fucked. My guess, however, is that he is grasping at straws.
I hold the picture up. “Is this one of the New Yorkers? One of the Tuccianos or something?”
He laughs and twists the door handle open. “Now, here I was thinking you didn’t get involved in our affairs.”
“I know a little,” I admit. “I’d rather I didn’t.”
“Just keep an eye out,” he says, unable to give me a real answer. “Let’s just say, I don’t consider him a great friend. Don’t worry, I just want to have a chat with him.”
He steps out onto the porch and digs inside his jacket. He pulls out a cigar and lights it, biting at the end. I ask “You want to have a chat with him? Just like you wanted to have a chat with my brother?”
“Exactly,” he says. “You’re learning.”
He laughs and shuts the door and I’m left alone once again. I fall to the floor and have to catch my breath. “Fuck,” I whisper. I can barely breathe. It’s my fucking anxiety working against me again.
I crawl back to my room and press my back against the wall. I extend my arms in the air and take three deep breaths in. I hold the air deep within my lungs.
I didn’t think I’d ever be alone with him again. I thought I would be safe in San Francisco. I was safe there. But now I’m back here, right in the center of danger. The way he touched my cheek, how he nearly kissed me… he is my cousin for Christ’s sake! I know that they want to “keep it in the family,” but I didn’t think he wanted to fuck his family too.
I wish I had someone there. I hate to admit it, but I wish I had a man to protect me. I wanted someone who would knock the shit out of Ricky, someone who could send a warning not to fuck with me ever again.
Back in Detroit, I’m powerless. It’s like entering a time machine. Did I want to take my chances with the cops backing me up? Hell no. Would my family do anything? Not if they don’t want to get shot.
I’m alone.
When I push myself back onto my feet, I see a piece of cardstock with some black ink on it. It reads: Hunter Brancaccio. Below his name is an address.
“What the hell?” I ask aloud. Who put this here? Ricky? And what is this address?
I hold it next to the picture of him. This is not good. How the hell did I get mixed up in all of this drama?
Oh yeah, maybe when I gave him a hand job on my father’s lawn. Whoops.
171
Hunter
I look at my list as I lay against my old, worn out mattress. “Ricky Luciotti,” I say to myself. “I will wipe you from the face of this earth if it’s the last thing I do.”
I’m going crazy up here on my own. Every time I hear something scurry past, I reach for my gun. You never know when an enemy could be mistaken for a rat.
I rest my head against that dingy mattress and nod off. Besides working out, this is my favorite past time. I fall into a deep sleep and then the nightmares set in again. I hear screaming and realize it’s a little boy’s voice. I follow the voices to a house nearby, at the end of the cul-de-sac. This isn’t Detroit. It’s somewhere far off, although I’m not too sure where. It looks strangely familiar.
Suddenly, the screams grow louder and I start to run. I’m running and running, but it’s like my legs are glued to the floor. It’s either that, or they’re made out of putty. “Help!” I hear the boy scream. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Come on, legs. Don’t fail me now.
I finally reach the door, although I’m completely worn down and out of breath. The screaming stops when I touch the handle. Am I too late? I wince when I realize the handle is hot. What the fuck? My gaze moves upward to the second floor window and the whole fucking house is on fire.
I do what I have to do. I have to save that kid. I have to pull everyone out of that house. I smash open the door and fall inside the house. Finally, I can find him. Only, the house isn’t on fire. It’s freezing cold and the wind is pushing me back. I fight against it and walk upstairs. Each step creaks underneath my heavy feet and I suddenly realize that this is the house I grew up in.
“No,” I whisper. “Not here. Why am I here?”
When I’m upstairs, I open the first room. There’s a man in the corner, laughing. He’s got a gun to two parents’ heads. I guess they’re mine, but I can’t make out the faces. It’s like they’re scratched out of my memory. “Hey!” I scream, pulling out my gun.
I attempt to load the bullets, but they just turn to chocolate in my hands. “Freeze!” I yell again, only it’s in vain and the man knows it. He’s wearing a grey suit with a purple vest and tie. His face is forced in a twisted perpetual smile and I quickly realize who it is. It’s Carmine Loccardo, the man with the greasy smile, as they used to call him. The man who raised me. The man who brought me into this life.
“Jesus Christ,” he laughs. “You? I thought I raised you better than this, kid. You had such promise, such talent. You could kill a thousand men with three bullets. Remember your aim?”
“Yeah, so what?” I spit out. I look in my hand and my gun has turned to a bouquet of wilted flowers. I throw it on the ground and stomp on the leaves. “I can do a lot of things.”
“Look at you now. You’re a fugitive to your own kind. Everyone hates you. You’re just like your father here.”
He turns to the man hunched in the corner and suddenly he shoots at his gut. The man falls dead against the wood panel. The boy, whose screams I heard earlier, is huddled in the center of the room. He’s whimpering and covering his eyes. Carmine walks up to him and pets his hair. “There, there,” he says. “Everything will be just fine.”
He turns to me and his eyes grow wild with fire and rage. I get the feeling that I shouldn’t be here, that I should have kept this memory locked up a long time ago. “I’m nothing like my father,” I say. “Nothing.”
“Bullshit,” he says loudly. He shoots the woman in the corner, my mother, and laughs wildly. The two bodies disappear, as well as the house. We’re standing in a field and now I’m above him.
“Well, old friend. I guess this is it,” he says with a tear in his eye. Then he starts singing. “It’s one for the money. Two for the show. Three to make ready. And four to go.” Almost mechanically, the gun in my hand goes off. Carmine falls to the dirt and the sun above me rises to an unimaginable degree of heat. That’s when I wake up.
“Hello?” A woman’s voice yells, muffled through the walls. I jump out of the bed. Shit. I’ve been having that nightmare for decades. “Hunter?”
Fuck! I run downstairs, wielding my gun. Sweat runs down my body and face. I feel like shit. “You there?” I lean against the door and peek out of the sliver I cut from the metal. I put
my gun away when I see her, that beauty. Bianca, my bella from the homeland. Okay, maybe she’s not from the homeland, but she’s close enough.
I slide open the door, grab her by her shirt, and pull her in fast. “What the—”
“Get in,” I tell her. “You have to be careful around here.”
I shut the door quickly and drop to the floor. “What’s going on? You look like total shit,” she says.
“Didn’t get much sleep,” I mutter. “I’m surprised you came. I didn’t expect you to be here so soon.”
“Yeah, well. I’ll take any opportunity to leave that house,” she says. “This place isn’t too bad. Needs some work, but it’s nice and big, that’s for sure.”
“Yeah, it’s three stories. Plenty of space to, er, sit around,” I laugh. “Come on, upstairs. There’s coffee if you want it.”
I don’t know what possessed me to put my address in her purse that night. I’ve just been in hiding for so long. If I didn’t do it, I would have gone crazy. Still, it wasn’t too smart of me. If anyone were to see her bangin’ on that door, they could have killed both of us. In the future, I have to be more careful.
We walk upstairs, until we reach the top. I’ve got my makeshift kitchen in the corner and I walk up to the shitty coffee maker and turn it on. “I hope you like your coffee strong,” I tell her.
She shrugs. “I’ll take two sugars and some cream please.” I can’t help but laugh.
“Sorry, sweetie. I don’t have any of that Starbucks shit here,” I say. “But if you want, I have a bottle of Jameson I keep next to my pillow.”
She laughs and walks over to my mattress. “Jesus, you really are in hiding, aren’t you?”
“I told you, I don’t lie,” I say. “It doesn’t give me much comfort to think that I might have to live like this forever.”
“You might?” she asks. “What else could you do? Gun them all down and come out of the shadows?”
“I haven’t given it much thought, to be honest. I’d rather not get my hopes up,” I sigh. “Right now, I’m a dead man walking.”
“So dramatic,” she laughs. “I’m sure you’ll pull through it. It’s not like these guys are too bright. You seem pretty capable. Although, I wouldn’t stay in one place too long. It’s better to switch it up.”
I nod, scratching at my chin in thought. “I thought you were going to cut me off. What happened to that? Miss me too much?”
“Nah,” she says, examining the space around her. “I don’t miss anyone too much. But I do get bored. It was either I see you or my friend Teresa. But she’s acting all weird, since I saw you that night. She thinks you’re dangerous.”
“You should listen to your friend,” I tell her. “It’s better you know the truth about me.”
“Well, you’re a cocky son of a bitch. I know that much. But dangerous? I doubt you’d ever hurt a woman,” she smiles and then cocks her head to the side, looking at me. “Would you?”
“Women are outside of our jurisdiction. You know that,” I say.
“Yeah. I do. Hence, the reason why I’m still around. In a week and a half, I’ll be gone though. Then you’ll have to learn to live without me,” she laughs.
“I think I’ll manage,” I tell her. She takes a swig of the Jameson and coughs as it goes down. “Smooth, huh?” I ask her.
“I’m not a fan of this stuff,” she says, making a grossed out face. I laugh loudly. “Oh, man. It’s the best stuff around. Keeps me warm at night, you know?”
“Can’t say that I do,” she says, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. My eyes fall to her tight skirt. It wraps around her legs perfectly and suddenly I’m starving for her. She sees me looking at her funny and puts her hands on her hips and sighs. “What? Why’re you staring?”
“I can’t help but think of that maneuver you did the other night,” I say, walking toward her. I get close enough to kiss her sweet lips. Instead, I grab the bottle of Jameson and take a swig. “That thing you did with your hands… I’ve never experienced anything that good.”
“Well, don’t think it’ll happen again. We’re just friends,” she says. She takes the bottle from me and takes a drink herself. In the corner of the room, the coffee machine sputters and makes an exhausted noise.
“Friends, huh? How ‘bout friends with benefits?” I ask her, smiling coy. I walk over to the coffee machine and pour two cups. I hand her a cup and she blows over the steamy air, pursing her lips out just right.
The second I see those lips, my cock twitches against the zipper of my pants. I imagine them slowly wrapping over my cock as her warm tongue wraps around my shaft. Fuck. If she’s that good with her hands, I can only imagine what she can do with her mouth. I’m hooked.
“I don’t do that,” she sighs. “Come on. It was one night, a good one at that. But let’s be honest with each other. I live on the other end of the country. Apparently, you’re being hunted down, no pun intended. And, not to mention, you’re a part of a lifestyle that I frankly can’t stand. It just wouldn’t work out.”
“Jesus,” I mutter, taking a sip of coffee. I pour a little Jameson in it and close my eyes. “It’s not like I want to get married to you or something. I was just eager for a little head is all.” I smile, but I can tell I’ve annoyed her. I don’t give a shit. The Jameson’s hit me in a very good way. Who needs anyone else when you’ve got a bottle of booze to comfort you?
“Gross,” she says. “Anyway, I don’t do that. I’ve got respect for myself, thank you very much.”
“Oh, that’s right. You just give hand jobs to strangers. That’s where you draw the line. I forgot,” I laugh, taking another sip. “Don’t kid yourself, sweetie.”
“Sweetie? Seriously?” Her face is growing red. Yep, I’ve pissed her off. Oops. Of course, I’m just laughing. I can’t help myself. I’m an asshole. “You know what? This was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have ever come up here. I’ll leave you to your stained mattress and disgusting, rat infested home.”
“No, wait,” I stop her. “Look, I’m sorry. I don’t get too many visitors, let alone any women. I’m not used to being a regular guy. But at least let me try.”
She exhales sharply and rolls her eyes. “Fine,” she says. “But if you insist on being an asshole, I’ll leave.”
“Deal,” I say, holding out my hand. She shakes it, creasing her eyes at me. Then she smiles again and everything seems to be okay.
“Hey, want to see something cool?” I suddenly ask, looking past her. She turns to see a door in the back of the room.
She smiles. “Sure, why not.” I lead her to the door and twist the knob. I suddenly remember my dream. There was that burning house, the red-hot doorknob, and those familiar screams. Come on, man. Get it together. I shake it off and guide her through the door.
“Whoa,” she whispers to herself. We’re suddenly on the roof, above the dilapidated part of the city.
“Yeah, it’s not exactly a beautiful view,” I laugh. “But it makes you think, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah, it makes me want to leave even sooner,” she laughs. “No, but really. It’s sometimes hard to imagine that this city used to be great. It’s suffered through so much.”
“It sure has. I guess that’s what corruption does to a place. It works great in the beginning, but once people get too greedy, it all falls apart,” I say.
“Hunter, there’s something I have to tell you,” she suddenly says, turning toward me. “You need to be very careful. I know I kind of joked around the issue earlier, but I think they’re on to you. And part of me thinks they’re wondering if I know more than I let on.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I ask. My chest turns cold and I feel a mix of adrenaline and fear take over my body. “What happened? What did you hear?”
“It’s my cousin Ricky. He came over today,” she stops and gulps down, trembling slightly. “He asked for my brother and said he needed to take him on a ride. He said it was strictly business. When I told
him I didn’t want my brother to ride with him, he got really close to me. Like, real close. He tried to come on to me, Hunter.”
“What the fuck? Your own cousin?” I clench my fists and feel the rage course through me. I knew he needed to go. He’s next on my list.
“It’s not the first time he’s done this. Only, last time he was wasted. This time, he was completely sober,” she stops for a second to breath, before continuing. “He said he’s been watching me for years. And before he left, he gave me this.”
She hands me an old picture and I’m suddenly staring back at a younger version of myself. “So, he knows I’m out there? Did he say anything else?”
“I don’t know what he knows,” she says. “But he asked me to keep an eye out for you. I promise I didn’t say anything. I don’t want to get involved and I hate that man, Hunter. I needed to warn you, though. If Ricky is on to you, you better be more careful.”
“Shit. No one can kill me,” I say with a certain amount of dumb pride. “I’d like to see him try to find me.”
Her face crunches up in this cute, angry way and I just know she’s about to give it to me. “Yeah? You like playing stupid?” she asks. “Well, I’ll be sure to pick out a nice coffin for you.”
“Hey, I’m sorry. Okay? It’s not easy living like this,” I say with honesty and truth. I put my hand against her shoulder. “I’m living under the barrel of their guns, woman. The best I can do is make light of the situation.”
She bears a look of concern on her face. I quickly realize the conversation has gotten way too fucking heavy. All I want is for her to sit on my face. I just want to taste her, to give her all I’ve got and more. I want to… fuck. I shake the thoughts away and listen to her speak. “What happened to you anyway? Why are you in hiding?” she asks.
Ah, shit. Do I really have to dive into this right now? It’s practically all I think about. “I’ll make a deal with you. You keep visiting me and I’ll tell you.”
