Fighting to Survive (The Casey Russo Chronicles Book 1)

by Rick Pine

  He leaned forward, nonchalantly stubbing out his cigarette on the antique coffee table. Even though he was beyond her view, Alex knew her dad would be snarling right now, she could practically feel it. That was Alex’s grandmother's table, and her father adored it.

  “So, as per the terms of our agreement, I’ve come to collect the $30,000 you still owe.”

  “Fu—” Alex clutched both hands over her mouth to stop herself swearing out loud.

  The other two men had been silent throughout, and hadn’t moved until Alex saw one of them pull out a handgun and point it at her mom’s head.

  This was bad. Very bad.

  But just as Alex thought it couldn’t get any worse, her little brother John rounded the corner and walked straight into the lounge.

  Chapter 3

  Northern District

  Parsons & Son’s Orchard, Romney.

  George had never looked so scared in his life. He’d obviously tried to avoid this situation, but had clearly failed. He turned to Casey, his face laced with fear.

  “What the fuck did you do, George?”

  “I had no choice. I had to.”

  “Had to what? Spit it out quick, they’ll be here any second.”

  Casey stood impatiently. The ominous black sedan was making its way down the dirt road towards the house. They had maybe two minutes before they were parked right out front. That was enough time for Casey to disappear. But he had to know what deal George had made with the Cosa Nostra. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

  Casey was certain these were just soldiers and unlikely to recognize him. A Caporegime wouldn’t risk coming this far out of the city, surely. No, he was safe, at least for now.

  George began to explain as quickly as he could. “The Orchard ain’t doing too well. You know that. Every time we go to market we sell less. They keep putting up the taxes and—”

  “How much did you borrow, George?” Casey asked sternly.

  “Maria, she said we should fire yous to save costs. But I couldn’t do that. Yous my friend. And Billy, he tries, but he ain’t old enough to help like yous do.”

  Casey’s heart sank a little, the guilt setting in. So this was partly my fault? he thought. No, he couldn’t accept that. If George had told him, they both know he would have quit and moved on, rather than allow George to borrow money from them. Casey considered him a friend, too, but did George really hold him in such high regard?

  “Can you pay them back?” Casey was hyper-aware they only had a few seconds before the car stopped. He couldn’t let them see him, just in case. If they tried to scan his ID chip, he was finished.

  As much as he wanted to help George, he couldn’t put them in more danger. George would have to deal with this one on his own. “You’d better go greet them. And don’t forget to smile and pay your respects,” he told George.

  George turned and started walking towards the car, which was now parked in front of the house, its view obscured by the house itself.

  George looked over his shoulder and spoke. “You wanna come—”

  But it was too late. Casey was already half way to the Orchard behind them.

  Chapter 4

  North-West District

  The Lane Household, Springfield.

  As John walked into the room he saw the gun and froze on the spot.

  The third man walked over and stood behind him, blocking him from leaving. “What shall I do with him, Mr. Rossi?”

  He approached John, smiling. The second man didn’t flinch and continued pointing his gun at Julie Lane.

  “What’s your name, young man?” Mr. Rossi asked John.

  John’s voice quivered. “J-John.”

  “Don’t be scared, John. How old are you? About thirteen? My son is thirteen, too.”

  “I’m fourteen…” he replied, pausing, “…err, sir”

  Mr. Rossi nodded. “Why don’t you go sit next to your father on the couch, John.”

  John did so, looking around the room and trying to assess the situation.

  Alex sensed he had no idea what was happening, only that it was very bad.

  Rossi focused his attention back on Julie. “Now, where were we? Oh yes, the $30,000. You can pay with cash or—” he paused, trying to create a dramatic effect— “or life.”

  “I don’t have your money, Mr. Rossi, not yet at least. If you’re going to shoot me, just get it over with.”

  As much as the thought of the Cosa Nostra killing her mother appealed to Alex, she knew it would tear their family apart. Her father especially would suffer. Could she let it happen?

  They hadn’t seen her yet, so she didn’t need to get involved. If it came to it, would she step in and help her? Alex didn’t know the answer. She wished she did.

  She looked around to see if she could sneak off the stairs and into the kitchen, where the knives were, without being seen. It was unlikely. It was then she noticed the umbrella holder at the bottom of the stairs next to the front door. Her mom loved cheap tat like that. It was hideous. But inside was a golf club. Alex and John often used to go out back and hit stones or random objects with it, in the absence of golf balls. They didn’t have a full set of clubs, just a random 7-iron they’d found in the back of the shed one day. Alex knew if she was going to defend herself, that was her only option.

  “No, Mrs. Lane,” said Mr. Rossi. “You misunderstand. I will not be taking your life. What good will that do? I’d still be down $30,000.”

  “No!” Julie screamed. “You can’t take my little boy. He’s done nothing wrong. I’ll work as a doll to pay you back. Anything,” she pleaded, “just don’t—”.

  “Enough!” Mr. Rossi’s voice rose for the first time to cut her off. “I didn’t come here to negotiate. I am here to collect.”

  The man with the gun walked over to John and reached out to grab his arm, but was suddenly shoved aside by Mr. Lane, who could no longer restrain himself.

  “I can’t allow you to take my son. I don’t care who you are,” he said defiantly, turning to look at his wife. “She’s the one that caused all this, she’s the one you should take.”

  “I don’t have time for this,” said Mr. Rossi, and grabbed the gun from his second in command. Without a moment’s hesitation he pulled the trigger.

  BANG!

  Mr. Lane dropped to the floor, landing face down. A pool of blood quickly formed around his head.

  Julie let out a wild scream. John was silent.

  “Grab the boy,” Mr. Rossi barked at his second in command. He turned and pointed the gun at Julie. “You have two weeks to repay your debt in full. If you do not, you die, and your boy will stay in my custody. Do you understand?”

  Julie nodded, unable to speak through her tears.

  When the gunshot had rung out, Alex closed her eyes. Too scared to open them, she just hoped it was a warning shot.

  Finally, she dared open her eyes, and the first thing she saw was her father face down on the floor. “BASTARDS!” Alex screamed. She was used to being angry, it seemed to be her default these days. But this was different, this was… RAGE.

  She leapt from the safety of the stairs and grabbed the golf club as she screamed, and closed the ten-foot distance to the nearest man, who’d remained stationary in the wide archway that separated the lounge from the hallway. He turned when he heard her scream, but all he saw was the golf club.

  Thwack!

  He fell to the floor, clutching his shoulder as the pain seared down his arm. Alex took another swing as he fell to the floor. “FUCKING CUNTS!”

  The second blow hit him square in the ribs, the crunch and crack of multiple bones reverberating across the space.

  “Enough,” yelled Mr. Rossi.

  Alex looked up. The gun was pointing at her. Alex stepped over the writhing body on the floor and wound the club back.

  “Don’t be stupid.”

  Alex saw her brother staring at her and could see the terror in his eyes. It occurred to her then that if she died now the
only person he’d have left was that traitorous bitch of a mother. The thought of that made her pause. Shit.

  Then she felt a thud on the back of her head, and everything went dark.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  The bruised and battered man stood above her, one hand nursing his broken ribs, the other clenched in a tight fist decorated with brass knuckles.

  Mr. Rossi stepped over Alex and headed for the door. Without turning, he said, “Leave the boy. We’re taking the girl instead.” He stopped at the open door. As he pulled up the hood on his long coat to shield his head from the rain, he spoke one last time. “And Mrs. Lane, nothing has changed. You have two weeks.”

  After dumping Alex’s unconscious body in the trunk, the three men climbed into the black sedan and pulled away. The injured one grumbled from the back seat. “Drop me at the clinic will ya, David?”

  “Sure,” replied David, the driver. “Should I drop the girl at the Doll’s House, Mr. Rossi?”

  “Pfft. She’d cost me too much money. You saw her. She won’t let a customer near her, let alone put his cock in her.” He laughed. “No, I have a better idea. Call Ciro DeLuca, from the Gambino family. Tell him I can repay that favor I owe him.”

  Chapter 5

  Northern District

  Parsons & Son’s Orchard, Romney.

  Three suited men climbed out of the black sedan. The driver stayed inside and kept the engine running. The big one saw George making his way from the barn towards the front of the house. “That him?” he asked.

  “Yeah, that’s the one,” replied Johny.

  They didn’t bother knocking on the front door. Instead, they walked straight to meet George at the rear of the house. As they stepped into view from the kitchen window Maria quickly yanked shut the curtains, but left a small gap so she could still peak through.

  George spoke first. “Good evenin', gentlemen. What a pleasant surprise. Can I get you something to—”

  “No, thank you, George,” said Johny, his Italian accent thick. “I’m afraid we’re here on business, and as such, we’ll have to decline your kind hospitality.”

  The smallest of the three suited men, Little Franky—who stood no more than five-foot-three—started slowly walking round the perimeter of the house, looking for anyone who might be trying something.

  “I have but one question to ask, my friend. Are you able to repay your debt in full, today?” asked Johny, calmly. Unsurprisingly to Johny, George was hesitant. In his ample experience that meant a big fat “no”.

  The big one, Lou, started shifting his weight onto his left leg. He looked like he was getting ready to charge. Despite the ten feet between George and them, Johny knew he wouldn’t stand much chance dodging or running away from Lou. He was faster than he looked.

  Little Franky returned to the group. “All good, Johny,” he said as he joined the others, his back facing the house.

  “Are you just gonna stand there and ignore me, George? Don’t make me ask again.”

  “Urr…” George stumbled his words, and Johny was getting impatient.

  George had that look in his eyes, the one most cowards had, and he’d seen it many times. He could tell George’s thoughts were elsewhere, most likely trying to come to terms with the pain he was about to suffer.

  “This is not a good start, my friend,” said Johny. Now it was his turn to pause, while he thought about how he needed to play this. George was already freezing up with fear. He could threaten him more, but he knew it would just make the situation more difficult. He had to take something back to his boss, Mr. DeLuca. If he went back empty-handed he knew he wouldn’t get the same level of compassion that he was showing George.

  “You know, George, Mr. DeLuca felt that helping you with your problem was too risky. He said he fuckin’ hated apples.” Johny turned towards the big one. “Can you believe that, Lou?”

  Lou shook his head.

  “But I love apples, George. I told Mr. DeLuca it would be a good investment. People always need to eat, right? So you see, my friend—,” Johny took a few steps forward closing the distance to George, speaking softer as he continued, “—if I return with nothing to show for my efforts, Mr. DeLuca won’t be very happy with either of us. He’ll feel like I took advantage of his good nature. And I’m sure you’ll agree, Mr. DeLuca does not appreciate his generosity being taken advantage of.”

  George stood motionless before finally speaking. “The harvest is nearly over, and I’ll be at the market soon, so I’ll have the money for yous, I swear.”

  Johny’s face darkened from smiley and cocky to stern and angry.

  “Just a few more weeks is all I ask. If Mr. DeLuca would be so kind.”

  Johny was about to tell George what he thought of that, but George cut him off.

  “And I’ll include interest, of course, for Mr. DeLuca’s generosity.”

  Johny paused and pondered this for a moment. The promise of extra interest on top of what he owed was appealing. But George was already a week late with his payment. If he didn’t live in the middle of nowhere, they would usually have been knocking on his door the very next day. The Cosa Nostra were much more comfortable staying inside the cities where most people lived. But a debt was a debt.

  George stood there as Johny mulled over his offer, dangling a little hope in front of George’s face. Johny turned to Lou and whispered, too softly for anyone else to hear. Lou’s face remained stoic as Johny told Lou exactly what he wanted to do. Lou nodded, and Johny turned back to face George.

  “Thank you for your patience while we conferred on this matter. You could have done something stupid, like run, but you didn’t. We respect that.”

  George nodded to confirm he knew that would indeed have been stupid.

  “Unfortunately George, this generous offer of yours came too late. If you’d have made it a week sooner, maybe it could have worked. But Mr. DeLuca cannot have people making their own terms and never paying on time. Once we allow it for one person, all of a sudden we’d be expected to do it for others, too. That would be bad for business, of course. I’m sure you can appreciate that, George.”

  George remained still. Not even confirming he understood. The fear had returned to paralyze him.

  Lou lunged forward with surprising speed and grabbed George’s right arm.

  “Now, I am a considerate man, George. I know you have to work so you can feed your family, and pay back your debt to Mr. DeLuca. There would be no use in me chopping off a finger or a hand and impairing your ability to do so. I’m not a heartless man, George. I do need to take something though as—” he paused looking for the right word, “—down payment.”

  George’s eyes widened.

  “I could have Lou here beat the shit out of you. But sometimes he gets carried away and people stop, you know, breathing.” Johny flashed a sadistic smile as said that last word. It was a line he had used before in one of his many speeches, but it never ceased being fun to say.

  “So… err… what’re you gonna to do?”

  “Well your debt, if I’m honest, isn’t that big in the grand scheme of things. I mean $15,000 might seem a lot, but Mr. DeLuca can make that in a single night in the Pits. And seeing as though I’m letting you keep your hands and feet so you can work, George, then it’s going to have to be your ear.”

  Lou’s grip on George’s arm tightened. He pulled out a knife with his free hand and spoke in his deep booming voice. “Which one?”

  “No, no, no! Don’t. Please. What about something else?” George protested.

  “We could make it both ears if you’d like,” Lou said, almost smiling at the thought. Almost.

  The blood rushed from George’s face. He looked to Johny. “But…”

  Johny could tell Lou was done talking. He’d known the giant man for nearly a year now and knew full well that Lou hated all the idle jabbering. He preferred getting straight down to business, so he could go find a burger joint after. Lou hated the country, too, always moaning it smelled funny
. He was a city boy, through-and-through.

  Before George could protest further, Lou sliced off his right ear in one deft, precise motion, and shoved him to the ground. There was no sense in getting blood on his new suit. George’s ear flopped to the dirt beside him.

  As George hit the ground a scream rang out. “NOOOOOO!”

  Everyone hesitated and looked around, the scream obviously coming from someone other than the four of them.

  Little Franky hadn’t seen Billy run around the corner, but he would sure as hell have felt it, as Billy swung his baseball bat hard into his legs. Little Franky yelped as he crumpled to the ground. He looked up at Billy as he landed another blow, this time to his abdomen. “Argh!” he yelled, as Billy wound up for a finishing blow to his head, but before he could bring the bat down, Billy collapsed forward on top of Little Franky as Lou smashed him on the back of his own head.

  Little Franky looked up to see Lou had come to his rescue. Lou nodded at Little Franky, and he nodded back.

  “Serves you right. You were the one who checked the perimeter,” Johny snarled.

  Little Franky didn’t bother to make excuses. He pushed the kid off him and got up, dusting himself off.

  Johny turned to George one last time. “Still want your extra week, George?”

  “Yes, yes, please,” he sputtered. The words couldn’t leave George’s mouth quick enough.

  Johny’s sadistic smile returned. “Done. I’m taking the boy as collateral. He’s a fighter, and Mr. DeLuca is short on fighters for the Pits. Maybe he’ll earn you some money, too, if he’s any good.”

  “Wait, no! Yous can’t take Billy, he’s too young to fight. Please, don’t—”

  Lou silenced his rambling with one swift punch to the temple, and Johny knew just how much he’d been wanting to do that. After all, it’d had been days since he’d punched anyone. Well apart from the boy, but that hardly counted.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  In the distance out of sight, Casey stood behind one of the trees in the Orchard. He watched as the big one put the boy in the trunk, before they all got in the car and drove away. He watched, waiting for them make the turn at the end of the long driveway before rushing down to tend to George. He didn’t need to hear what was said to know why they had taken Billy.