Kingpin (An Italian Mafia Romance)

by Ws Greer

  I know I’ll never be the same again. I had an opportunity to get away from all of it, but it’s gone now. The door is closed, never to be reopened, and I don’t know how I feel about being locked inside.

  I should care. I should be terrified and screaming for help. I should be thinking of any way I can to escape and find my way back to safety, but I’m embracing it all instead. I’m bathing in the fear and soaking up the excitement, and I feel higher than ever.

  I know I shouldn’t feel this way, but I do, because when it comes to Dominic, everything’s different. With him, all of the rules change.

  Dominic

  The sun rises and taps on the window until I wake up. She’s still next to me when I open my eyes, just as beautiful now as she was last night. The sun touches her cheek and makes her skin glow. She’s like an angel lying there, so I try not to disturb her as I get up. She covered us with a light blanket before we both passed out from exhaustion, so I make an effort to keep her covered up.

  “Good morning,” she whispers as I lean over her, but she keeps her eyes closed.

  “Good morning,” I answer. Luckily, she can’t see my corny smile.

  How can I not smile? Am I not supposed to because I’ve been a street guy my whole life? This is Alannah Sullivan, the girl I fell in love with when I pulled a bully off her back in the fifth grade. I was eleven then, so it’s almost like loving her is just as much a part of me as This Thing of Ours. So, I’m not ashamed when I smile at her even though she can’t see me. Yeah, it’s weird to me, and it’s corny, but it’s Alannah.

  “Go back to sleep,” I whisper to her.

  “Can’t. Gotta go to work.”

  “Oh, okay then. Well, then you should get up and quit being lazy,” I joke. She smiles, still keeping her eyes closed, and I’m shocked by how adorable I think it is.

  She finally opens her eyes and locks them on me. We stare at each other for a minute, both of us smiling, thinking things we’re not sure we should say yet. Her eyes and lips draw me in, so leaning in to kiss her feels like an involuntary action. Her lips are ridiculously soft, and memories of last night jump out of the bushes in my mind and jolt me awake. This woman makes me think things I shouldn’t be thinking. Amazingly good things.

  We manage to stop kissing, and Alannah gets up to get ready for work. I grab my clothes off the hardwood floor and start to put myself back together again while she puts on scrubs and throws her beautiful brown hair into a bun.

  “You should let me take you to work,” I tell her. “Then I can come get you when you get off, and we can go to dinner or something.”

  She smiles into the mirror as she applies her makeup.

  “I’d like that, but if we’re going to go to dinner, I’ll have to come back here so I can change first. Can’t do dinner in these scrubs,” she says as she points at the rubber ducky print on her pants.

  “So, you’re saying you don’t wanna go out to eat wearing those sexy pajamas?”

  “Well, they are sexy,” she replies behind a soft giggle. “But I’d rather not.”

  We laugh together, and it feels like it’s junior high all over again. It’s like we haven’t skipped a day, let alone ten years. Something that was dormant inside me feels alive now, and I’ve missed the feeling of . . . us. I enjoying being around her again, so I’m a little bothered when my phone chimes from a text message.

  Charlie: We found him . . .

  Alannah comes out of the bathroom just as I stuff the phone back into my pocket without replying.

  “Ready?” I ask, as she grabs her purse.

  “Ready.”

  While we drive to Mercy Hospital, I put my hand on her leg, and she wraps her fingers around it. I’m watching the road, but I feel it every time she gently rubs my skin, and I rub hers back. I want to soak up every second of this car ride, because twenty-four hours ago, I didn’t think we’d ever be together like this again.

  “So, what’s work gonna be like today?” I inquire. Not because I’m trying to make small-talk, but because I really want to know.

  “Well, I’ve done all my paperwork stuff—new girl stuff, as I call it. So, I might be seeing patients today and working the nurse’s station. I’m actually kind of nervous about it.”

  “Why? You did this in Alaska, right?”

  “Yeah,” she answers, looking out the window at the big city buildings. “But this is my first time seeing patients here, and working with these nurses is a whole new challenge in itself. Not to mention the new doctors—learning how they like things done, and which ones of them are assholes. It’s a whole new adventure.”

  “You’re gonna do great,” I reassure her. “All you have to do is be yourself, and you can’t go wrong.”

  I feel her eyes on me.

  “Thank you,” she says.

  I take my eyes off the road for a second just to look over and see her smile. It shakes me to my core, and I love it.

  When we get to Mercy, I’m pissed that we got here so fast. I drive under the overhang, put the car in park, and I clinch her hand so she can’t get out.

  “I don’t want you to go,” I kid.

  “I know, but I have to,” she says, beaming. “I’ll see you in a few hours, okay?”

  I sigh as I let her leave.

  “Okay.”

  She leans over and kisses me softly on the lips, then she gets out and walks into the hospital without looking back.

  When the sliding glass doors close behind her, my phone chimes again. I pull it from my pocket and read the message from Charlie.

  Charlie: We followed him to a house. 1212 Douglas Ave . . .

  This time, I send a reply message.

  Me: Go inside and say hello. I’m on my way.

  It’s a decent-looking house from the outside. Medium-sized with red bricks and a short little driveway with lots of cracks in it. It’s not the driveway or the house I hone in on—it’s the black Lincoln Denali parked out front. The second I pull up to the curb I know it’s the same vehicle from Isle of Capri. This is the house of the motherfucker who tried to shoot me in my own casino. This is the guy who sent bullets buzzing over my head, only inches away from Alannah.

  I park across the street from where Tommy’s Maroon Durango is sitting, and I quickly make my way inside. I don’t waste time looking around like you see in the movies, because all that does is guarantee that you look suspicious to everyone who might be watching, plus give them multiple angles to see your face. I keep my head down and speed-walk up the sidewalk. Skinny Joe opens the door for me so I don’t have to knock, and the second I enter the old house, I see my crew standing around a black guy who’s tied to a chair with thick rope in the middle of the living room.

  The house looks like it can’t possibly belong to just this one guy, because it’s neat and tidy inside. There’s no clothes or porno magazines on the floor. There’s bookshelves covered with books and crystal ornaments. When I see it all, I start to wonder if we’re going to have company soon. We might have to make this quick, so I turn my attention to Charlie, who’s standing over the black guy, wearing blue coveralls and holding a tiny wooden baseball bat that’s already got blood on it.

  “Okay,” I say, glancing at the bald kid with the blood dripping from his mouth onto the stomach of his black t-shirt. “So, tell me Charlie, who the fuck is this guy?”

  “This here is Anthony Bennet. He works at Lumiere Place,” Charlie says, pointing the bat at the kid’s face. “I asked around about the car you described, and a few of our people said they recognized it. So, I went to the places they said they saw it. It was too fucking easy to find this guy dropping off his grandma at bible study this morning. We spotted him and followed him back here. Anthony was just telling us about his employer, Abram Baskov. Ain’t that right, Anthony?”

  The kid puts his head down like he’s ashamed. Blood drips from his mouth, and I can see his face is already swelling up. The guys didn’t waste any time putting Charlie’s bat to use.

&
nbsp; I step in front of the kid and size him up. He’s skinny, maybe a buck fifty-five, maybe five-foot-nine or somewhere close to it. He doesn’t have any hair on his head, and he looks like he can’t be any older than twenty-two. I bend over until my face is directly in front of his. He doesn’t look up at me, and it makes me madder.

  “A couple of nights ago, you had all the balls in the world,” I say softly in his ear. “You parked your fucking ride outside the restaurant of my casino, and you confidently shot at me while I was having dinner. You had a lot of fucking balls then. So, why don’t you lift your fucking head like a man? Look at me, you motherfucker!” I scream, and the kid jolts in his seat.

  Slowly but surely, he raises his head and makes eye contact.

  “There he is,” I say with a smile. “So, Anthony Bennet, do you know who I am?”

  He nods his head.

  “And what do you know about me, Anthony?”

  “Nothing,” he whimpers.

  “Nothing? I’m confused. If you don’t know anything about me, why’d you try to kill me?”

  “He told me to, but he didn’t tell me nothing about you.”

  “Who the fuck is he?”

  He hesitates like he doesn’t want to be a rat, but we all know he’s going to tell.

  “Abram,” he says, then he lets his head slide down until his chin is in his chest.

  “What exactly did Abram tell you, Anthony?”

  “He told me he had something he wanted me to do. Said he’d pay me five grand. So, I told him I was down, and he showed me a picture of what you look like. Then he said he knew you had reservations at some casino where it’d be easy to get you. So, I went there at the time he said to go, and I did what he told me to do.”

  “Oh, no you fucking didn’t, asshole,” Skinny Joe barks from his seat on the plastic-covered couch. “You tried, but you fucking missed. You’re a shitty shooter, Anthony. Not a good trait for a penniless, freelance hitman who lives with his grandmother.”

  The four of us who aren’t about to die chuckle together, but I don’t let it last long. This business needs tending to.

  “Okay, Anthony, I don’t wanna drag this out, so I’m gonna get right down to it,” I say as I take a seat next to Skinny Joe and light up a Cuban. “You don’t know me, and I’d hate for you to get the wrong impression, so it’s important that I’m honest with you. You’re gonna die here in a few minutes, Anthony. However, before you die, I have one more question. Have you spoken to Abram since your failed attempt on my life?”

  Anthony tries to answer, but the words get choked up in his throat as tears start streaming from his eyes. He’s scared, which is understandable. He probably should’ve thought about that before he fired those bullets at me and Alannah.

  “Look, I know it’s hard to accept impending death,” I say, trying to help the guy out. “But if you don’t answer my question, I’m gonna make sure my friend over there with the bat prolongs the dying process as much as possible, then I’m gonna make sure your grandmother finds your dead body with your fucking face smashed in the middle of her living room. So, do yourself and your grandmother a favor, and answer the fucking question.”

  Anthony takes a deep breath and blows the air out.

  “I spoke to him on the phone,” he says, his words coming out in a trembling heap.

  “I see. What’d you tell him?”

  “I called him right after I did it, and I told him it was done. I told him I got you, and he said he’d meet me with the money in a day or two, once things quieted down.”

  “Has he paid you yet?”

  “No.”

  “Why’d you tell him you got me?”

  “I thought I did. I didn’t have time to stick around and make sure, though. So, I assumed I did.”

  “See, now that’s fucked up,” Skinny Joe starts up again. “Abram hires this mulignan to do a hit, then doesn’t even get around to paying the fucking guy before he gets wacked. So, you literally did that shit for nothing, man. That’s gotta fucking suck.”

  Joe, Tommy, and Charlie all laugh as another tear slides down Anthony’s face. He’s absolutely terrified and I can see he regrets ever falling for Abram’s shit. Abram should’ve told him who he was dealing with, but he let the kid get fucked instead. I almost feel bad for the guy. Almost.

  “Alright,” I say as I stand up. “Well, Anthony, I’ll let you in on a little secret. I was planning on making our little meeting last a lot longer, and for it to be much more painful for you. But I’m in a good mood today. I’m still wearing the same clothes I had on last night, and seeing as how I’m not a bum on the streets, you know that means I had a good night. So, since I’m in such a good mood, I’m gonna let you off the hook.”

  Anthony’s head snaps up.

  “So, you’re not gonna kill me?”

  “No, I’m not gonna kill you, Anthony,” I reply, as I think of Alannah’s face and reach for the door. I latch on to that good feeling that she gives me, then I look at Anthony. “I’m not gonna kill you, but my friend, Charlie, is.” I look at Charlie. “Make it quick and get rid of the body. Clean up in here so his grandmother doesn’t know. She can think he ran off or something. After you dump him, find Abram, who apparently thinks I’m dead. That means his guard will be down, which is fucking perfect. I want this thing done and over with.”

  Charlie nods and I turn to leave, but Anthony speaks up again.

  “Come on, man,” he yells. “Cut me some fucking slack. I was just looking to make some money. I wasn’t trying to get involved in this life. Cut me some slack, please!”

  I stop at the door and turn my head to look at Anthony, who’s trying his best to give me sad puppy eyes.

  “Cut you some slack?” I snip. “Did you know you killed a guy that night? Some poor, innocent bastard took one of your stray bullets to the back of the head while he was eating his fucking mozzarella sticks with his wife. She’s a fucking widow now, probably crying over her dead husband as we speak. Can you go cut her some slack? Did you plan on cutting me some slack that night?”

  Anthony puts his head down as he starts crying again.

  “I thought not,” I say, then I nod the go-ahead to Charlie. “Call me when you find Abram.”

  I stick my cigar in my mouth and walk out of the house, making sure the door closes behind me. I take the narrow sidewalk back to my car, and before I get halfway, I hear the silencer-suppressed gunshot that ends Anthony’s life.

  Good riddance.

  Abram Baskov’s heart pounds in his chest as he watches Dominic Collazo climb out of his BMW and walk up to the house. He can’t fucking believe it—Anthony lied to him. He said he was sure he got Dominic when he fired all those shots through the window. It was over. It was done, and it was all bullshit.

  The plan was to stop by Anthony’s house after he dropped his grandmother off at church, so he could give him the five grand he promised, but as Abram drove up the road, he saw someone he recognized. It was the big guy from the sit down at Lumiere Place. He knew it was the same guy Dominic had with him, no mistake about it, and he knew if he was going into Anthony’s house, there was no chance Anthony was ever going to see the light of day again. Abram figured the guy and his two friends were there to get revenge for the hit on Dominic, which is exactly why Abram hired Anthony—a young black kid who Abram doesn’t associate himself with. They weren’t supposed to make the connection to Abram, and for all he knows, maybe they didn’t. But once he saw Dominic show up, he almost started to panic.

  Now, it’s been ten minutes since Dominic walked inside, and the door is opening again. Out strolls Dominic like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Abram can’t stand seeing him walk around like everything’s fine, knowing he just did something terrible to poor Anthony, who never saw any of this shit coming. Dominic gets in his car, but the other three guys are still inside, probably cleaning up the mess. Abram knows he has to do something. He has to get rid of this Collazo fucker, or he’ll never have peace.
These fucking mob families always think they can just take what they want from people. Well, fuck that. It won’t happen this time, not to Abram.

  He needs a plan, but Dominic is already driving away from the house, so he doesn’t have time to sit there when he already knows Anthony’s dead. So, he puts his truck in gear and follows the Italian.

  He knows he has to keep his distance. He can’t afford to be seen, at least not until he’s ready to make his move—whatever that’s going to be. As he drives on the highway, he thinks. Dominic is a major player in the Giordano family, not someone to be taken lightly, so he knows it’ll be a bad idea to take the guy on straight up. Unlike the crooks his father ran into, the Giordanos are connected to the Original Five Families in New York. This isn’t some made up shit, this is the real deal. So, whatever move he makes has to be perfect, or he’s sure to be tortured to death in retaliation.

  Dominic drives into the underground parking area of River City, where Abram knows he’ll be staying, at least for a while. He knows better than to get too close, so Abram parks in the staff parking lot across the street from the underground entrance. He’ll wait there until he figures out his next move, or until he sees an opportunity to strike. He doesn’t give a fuck how long it takes either, because this thing has to end. Abram refuses to end up like his father and the rest of his family did back in Chicago.

  Hours pass before Abram finally sees Dominic leaving River City again. As he prepares to get back on the road to follow him, he still doesn’t know what the hell he’s supposed to do to get rid of this bastard. He just knows he has to, because there’s a chance Dominic and his crew beat the information out of Anthony. If they got Anthony to tell them who hired him, Abram knows he won’t last long. These motherfuckers have no problem killing someone in broad daylight. He can’t take any chances. He has to make this happen.

  Then, the stars align.

  Abram follows Dominic to Mercy Hospital, where he watches with a smile as a woman wearing hospital scrubs exits and climbs into the BMW. Dominic quickly drives away and Abram stays on his tail.