by Ws Greer
“Keep your fucking voice down,” I snip. “I know we need to go get him, but we’re gonna wait a minute, goddammit. We’re gonna wait until we hear Tommy’s okay. Once we know . . .”
“What the fuck did I tell you?” a voice says from behind me. I turn around to find Frankie glaring at me with his arms folded. He looks miserable, and the scar on his face makes miserable look terrifying. “I told you to handle this fucking Russian, didn’t I? I told you to take care of this, and this prick is still on the streets shooting at you and your crew. What the fuck, Dominic?”
I’m not really sure how to respond. There’s too many emotions to pick one, and it feels overwhelming, to say the least. I just stare at Frankie, who glares back like he’s utterly disappointed in me.
“I told you to fix this. Now, The Commission has to hear about a made guy actually getting gunned down in fucking public,” Frankie says, snarling. “We don’t let this shit happen to our people, Dominic. Why haven’t you fixed it yet?”
“I’ve been fixing it, Frankie,” I snip. My emotions are running high, and respect for the acting boss isn’t exactly a top priority right now. “We found and handled the shooter this morning, for your fucking information, and we were working to find Abram, he just found us first. What the fuck was I supposed to do?”
“And where were you when Tommy got shot, huh? You’re his captain, so where the fuck were you, Dominic?”
“I was having fucking dinner. What do you want from me?”
“Out with your fucking little girlfriend who nearly got you shot last time. Of fucking course.”
“What the fuck is your problem with me having dinner with a woman? This is ridiculous,” I bark. Everyone in the waiting area is starting to look at us, and I know I’m walking a thin line talking to Frankie this way, but I’m fed up right now.
“You’re distracted, Dominic, and it’s making it dangerous for everyone,” Frankie yells back. “When you’re off your fucking game because of some chick, and bullets start flying at our people, that’s a problem for everyone. Do you know what I’m saying?”
“You’re fucking married, Frankie! I go to dinner with a woman, and it’s the end of the world, but you being married is perfectly fine. That’s bullshit!”
“You better watch your mouth, Dominic. You’re in enough shit with Leo and The Commission, so I wouldn’t start burning any bridges right now.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“Your father would’ve never let this happen to someone in his crew. If this was your dad’s crew, he wouldn’t even be here right now. He’d be out tracking this Abram fucker down, but you’re standing in here with tears in your eyes. I expected more out of you, Dominic.”
“And I expected you to be a better fucking boss, so I guess we’re both surprised at how fucked up everything has turned out,” I respond.
The whole room goes quiet. Even the people in the waiting area who aren’t with us are watching like we’re their personal soap opera.
Frankie glares at me with a look I’ve seen before. He’s fuming, and I know what he’s thinking. Frankie isn’t the guy you want to piss of, but then again, neither am I. I should probably apologize, though, because Frankie’s probably only days away from being officially named boss, but I’m emotional. Tommy is my guy, so I’m allowed to be upset too, but I know I’m going to have to fix things with Frankie soon, or I could end up getting clipped over this.
I try to catch my breath and calm down, but it’s easier said than done. Frankie looks furious, and I know I have to fix it.
“Look, Tommy just got shot, and I’m all fired up,” I begin. “I don’t mean no disrespect, Frankie. You know that. You’ve known me since I was a kid, and you’re like an uncle to me.”
Frankie cuts me off by turning his back and walking away.
I turn to Joe and Charlie, and the looks on their faces tells me they know what that means. I may have just royally fucked up. They look scared for me.
I think to follow Frankie to plead my case, but before I can, my phone rings. I look at the display, and I’m comforted by Alannah’s name. She’s probably worried to death about me, and I hadn’t had a chance to call her and tell her anything. Right now, I just want to hear her voice.
“Hi, beautiful,” I say when I pick up.
Then, everything stops.
“Oh, how fucking sweet, lover boy,” a deep voice replies.
A man’s voice.
Abram’s voice.
How does he have Alannah’s phone?
“What’s the matter? Surprised to hear from me, you fuck?” he says when I hesitate to speak.
“How do you have her phone?” I manage to say as my heart beats faster by the second, and tears blur my vision.
“How do you think, Dominic? Me and your little girlfriend are hanging out right now, and if you ever want to see little Miss Alannah again, I suggest you get your ass here to her house, right now. And you better be alone, or all that’ll be left of her is five little pieces of her hand.”
He hangs up, and my heart falls into my feet. I can barely breathe, and my skin feels like it’s on fire. Charlie and Joe stare at me, wondering what’s wrong, but I can’t tell them. I can’t risk Alannah’s life.
Abram has Alannah.
My body fills up with more fear and rage than I’ve ever felt, as I break into a full sprint towards the exit.
Dominic
One gun tucked into my pants, another with a silencer in the holster under my jacket, plus a knife in my pants pocket.
I approach the house from the front, because I don’t want Abram to think I’m doing anything he needs to be suspicious of. I won’t risk him hurting Alannah, so I get out of my car and close the door loudly, like everything’s normal. I walk to the front door, and before I can knock, it opens all the way. Abram fucking Baskov greets me with a nine millimeter already pointed at my face.
He’s wearing black sweatpants and a white tank top. His ugly fucking face is just as bearded and soft as it was the last time I saw him. He doesn’t have the look of a street guy, yet here he is pointing a gun at me, with the love of my life tied to a fucking chair in her own living room.
I see Alannah’s teary eyes and it makes my blood boil. I have half a mind to lunge at this fucker, but I have to keep myself under control. She doesn’t seem hurt physically, which makes it a little easier for me to keep it together, but just seeing the rope wrapped around her and weaving through the legs and arms of the chair is enough to make my knees shake with anger. She has duct tape over her mouth and her eyes are locked on me like she’s trying to communicate telepathically. I wish I could read her mind, but I’m stuck on the outside, trying to figure out what she needs me to do to save her.
“Nice of you to show up, Dominic,” Abram says as he steps back into the house but leaves the door open for me. “Get in here and close the door behind you.”
I don’t say anything, I just walk in and shut the door. Glaring at him, I stand there waiting for him to say whatever dumb shit he’s going to say, hoping a plan on how to end this as fast as possible will pop into my head.
But it turns out, I don’t need to read Alannah’s mind, because I can see her. Her eyes are still locked on me, but her right hand is slowly shifting from side to side, and the rope isn’t tight in that spot. She’s already trying to get free, so all I have to do keep Abram’s eyes on me. Who needs mindreading when your woman is independent and smart on her own? Just another reason she’s irreplaceable—another reason I can’t let this motherfucker hurt her.
Abram stands there staring at me for a while, just pointing the gun and twisting his lips. I can see he’s pissed and trying to figure out what he wants to do, like he never really had a plan, and now that I’m here, he’s trying to come up with what’s next.
“Take off your jacket,” he demands.
Shit. I was hoping he wouldn’t come up with that.
I have to keep Alannah in mind, so I do as he commands. I unbutto
n my jacket and toss it on the floor in front of him. Now my shoulder holster is fully exposed.
“Take that off and throw it on the floor, too. Then spin around with your hands in the air so I can see what else you’ve got.”
Again, I do as I’m told and toss the harness with the gun still inside. Then I put my hands above my head and do a full turn. He sees the gun and tells me to toss that one too, and I comply. I’m down to only one more weapon, and hoping he doesn’t think to make me empty out my pockets since he already found two guns.
“Do you know how much you’ve screwed me, Dominic?” he finally says, satisfied that he can’t see a weapon. “Do you know how much damaged you’ve caused? You killed my best guy. Yeah, remember that, you fucking Italian asshole. You had Alex killed just to try to intimidate me, but you can’t intimidate me. I have the blood of my father running through my veins. I’m a fucking Baskov, motherfucker. You don’t get to take from a Baskov without suffering consequences.
“So, here’s what we’re gonna do; I’m gonna take from you the same way you took from me. You took Alex, you took Anthony, and now I’m gonna take something of yours. Because that’s the way love works, Dominic. When it comes to someone like you, love will always hurt you more than it’ll help you. That’s the reason you were willing to come here alone—love. You left your friend at the hospital, where I put him, so you could save your love, and now you get to watch your love die.”
He turns around and aims the pistol at Alannah, and my insides explode. I clench my teeth and take a step towards him as a tear falls from Alannah’s eye. Then I take another step . . . and Abram spins back around, gun pointed in my direction.
BANG
That’s what it really sounds like when a gun goes off inside a house. It’s a loud pop that makes you jump, and you spend the next second trying to figure out if you got hit or not.
Well, I did.
Abram squeezes the trigger, I start falling to the floor, and Alannah screams behind the tape on her mouth. My body gets spun around and I land on my stomach, face down on the hardwood. I immediately see blood on the floor beneath me, and then comes the sharp pain in my shoulder and shooting down my left arm. I still hear Alannah’s muffled screaming as my eyes bulge at the sight of the blood.
“What’d you think this was, a fucking game?” I hear Abram say behind me. “I figured you’d try to pull some shit like that. Oh, but don’t worry, I wasn’t even trying to kill you. At least not until I make you watch me pull all the fingers off your little bitch’s hands, and then put a bullet right between her eyes. After you watch that, then I’ll kill you. Now turn over. Turn over!”
I wince as I have to use my shoulder to push myself off the floor and turn around. He’s aiming the gun at Alannah again, and I feel helpless. If I move, he’ll shoot me, but not to kill me. If I don’t make a move, I’ll have to watch him kill Alannah. One of those is worse than the other. I’d rather die trying to save her than watch her be killed right here in front of me. I’ve got to do something.
I look at Alannah as Abram turns to face her. She doesn’t look at him, though, she looks at me. We lock eyes, and I can tell she’s trying to communicate still, so I look down at her hand. She’s still wiggling it, and the ropes are starting to give way. She keeps her eyes on me, and I know what’s next. I raise myself off the floor some more so I can be ready.
All of a sudden, Alannah’s right hand breaks free of the rope with one quick jerk. The second she has it free, she reaches up and grabs ahold of Abram’s gun, and I jump into action. I hop to my feet and spring towards him. I hit the Russian with a linebacker style tackle that sends all three of us crashing to the floor in a heap, one on top of the other, while the gun goes skidding down the hallway. Abram quickly tries to go get it, but I hold him down and punch him in the face with everything I’ve got.
The pain of the bullet in my shoulder steals my strength, though, and the impact isn’t as strong as I’d hoped. Abram recovers from the blow with ease, and quickly turns the tables with a punch of his own, knocking me off of him. Alannah struggles on the floor next to us as we wrestle, trying to keep the other away from the gun. I swing a right hook and it lands in Abram’s ribcage, knocking him back, then I throw a left cross that hurts my shoulder, but it connects with Abram’s temple and he collapses. In that moment, I remember I’m not totally unarmed.
I pull the knife from my pocket and jump on top of Abram, who uses both hands to try to keep me from stabbing him. I aim the knife at his throat and push down with everything I’ve got, but he’s got a death grip on my wrist. We struggle for far too long, and my shoulder is getting weaker by the second, but I won’t quit until he’s dead. I keep pushing, but Abram’s attention shifts to my shoulder, and he takes a hand off my wrist and plunges his finger into the bullet hole.
I let out a blood curdling scream as I succumb to the pain and my arm goes limp, releasing the knife. Abram punches me in the chin and tries to scramble to get up, but I gain my balance and grab him from behind. I wrap my arms around his neck and start to squeeze.
I dig my forearm into his throat and squeeze every muscle in my body. It hurts like hell, but I don’t let go, even after he tries to dig his fingernails into my skin, I keep squeezing. His legs go kicking in every direction as his air supply is cut off, but I don’t stop—not until he stops moving all together.
It only takes a few seconds, and then the kicking stops. Abram’s arms go limp and drop to his sides, and in that exact moment, my muscles seem to reach complete failure and I have to let go. I push Abram off to the side, and fall backwards, completely exhausted.
I can hear Alannah struggling still, and trying to talk behind the tape, so I muster up some strength and pick myself up. I grab the knife off the floor and use it to cut the rest of the rope off of her and she pulls the tape off herself.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
She looks me in the eye and as tears start to stream down her cheeks.
“You’re asking me if I’m okay, and you’re the one who got shot,” she says as she rubs my face.
“I’ll be fine as long as you’re alright.” I help her up off the floor, and we both look down at Abram, whose eyes are closed, but fluttering.
“He’s not dead. He just passed out. We have to call the cops,” Alannah says. She looks at me, wondering what I’m going to say. I can tell she knows what I’m thinking, and it sure as hell isn’t to call the police.
“We can’t do that,” I say to her. Alannah freezes and stares at me blankly. “Alannah, I need you to listen to me. This motherfucker put a contract on my head that resulted in an innocent man being killed while he was out to dinner. You and I barely made it out of Isle of Capri alive. He also shot my good friend, Tommy Caprio, in the back and put him in the fucking hospital. Tommy’s a made guy, too. And now, he’s broken into your house, tied you to a chair, and shot me in the fucking shoulder. There’s not a fucking chance in hell I’m gonna let this cock sucker walk outta here. It’s fucking over for him.”
Alannah keeps staring at me, and I know she’s thinking about the difference between right and wrong right now, but I need her to understand the depths of this situation. I need it more than she realizes.
I hear her breathing starting to pick up as I walk over to where I dropped my jacket and my guns, and I pull the nine millimeter with the silencer out of the holster. I chamber a round and walk over to Abram. His chest rises and falls as he breathes, and his eyes are still fluttering with life, fighting their way back to consciousness as I stand over him. He doesn’t even realize I hold his life in my hands right now. After all he’s done, it’s me who holds his life in my hands in the form of a nine millimeter pistol.
“Dominic, wait,” Alannah says, almost screaming it. She’s breathing hard, like she’s about to hyperventilate. “I don’t know how I feel about this.”
“How do you not? He forced his way into your house and tied you up, Alannah. You think if we send him to jail, he’s gon
na just forget about it all? You think he doesn’t have people on the outside who’d be willing to force their way in here too? It wasn’t Abram who shot at us at Isle of Capri. It was some kid named Anthony who worked for him. He did it for five thousand dollars. That’s all it took was him offering some poor kid five thousand dollars, and the next thing you know, there’s bullets flying over our heads as we wait for our food. If we let him go, it’ll never be over. We’ll never be safe, and we can never go anywhere without looking over our shoulder. Not ever. So how do you feel about that?”
I can see the realization dawn on her. Her face tightens and her shoulders slump, because she knows it’s true. We can’t let him live.
Abram’s eyes start to flutter more, and I know he’s on the verge of waking up. We don’t have much time left. Something has to be done, but I’m trying to be patient for Alannah.
“Alannah, I know this is hard for you,” I continue. “But I gotta end this, and I gotta do it now.”
“I know,” she replies as a tear rolls down her cheek. “You’re right. We’ll never be safe if he lives, and after all he’s done . . . he deserves it. I can’t believe I just said that, but I know it’s true. He was going to kill me. He was going to kill both of us . . . he deserves it.”
Alannah looks me in the eye, her face blank and stiff, and she wipes a tear away. She glances down at Abram just as his eyes start to flicker open.
“Okay,” she mutters, almost in a whisper, then she turns on her heel and walks away. I watch her make her way down the hall and turn into her bedroom, where she slowly closes the door behind her.
Abram comes to just as her door latches, and I aim the weapon at his torso. I let his eyes focus on me and the gun before I do anything. I want him to know what’s about to happen. I want him to see it coming. So, I wait until it’s as clear as day.
