by Jamie Zakian
“Fuckers!” Vinny yelled.
Sasha could hear Vinny and Cash struggle, which ended quickly with their groans. Beyond a growing pile of knifes removed from her every pocket, she glimpsed Dante stroll to the window.
“Hey, Tony,” he yelled out the fractured glass. “You might as well come in through the front, cause the guys coming in the back are gonna get shot.”
The grip holding Sasha down loosened and she pushed off the table, backing between Vinny and Cash. “You guys okay?”
“Yeah,” Cash said, holding a puffy cut on his forehead.
Vinny rubbed his stomach, slightly hunched over. “Ask me in twenty.”
“What is this, Donatello?” Antonio walked through the front door unarmed, unafraid, without a pause in his step, and every gun-toting man scurried back.
Dante closed his eyes, a long, slow breath sinking his chest. His glare flashed to Sasha, growing spiteful before he turned to face Antonio. “My exile is over, brother.”
“Your exile is over when I say it is!” The rise in Antonio’s voice shrunk Dante’s shoulders. It was a beautiful sight, to see him cower.
“Your say isn’t worth shit, thanks to my little girl.”
Antonio looked at Sasha, hurt brimming in his eyes. Her jaw dropped. She didn’t do shit, would slice Dante to shreds before help him. “I didn’t…”
“Yes, you did,” Dante said, hurling a sharp glare Sasha’s way. “You marched them all to me, just like you did before.” His eyes narrowed on Sasha, wavering. “I’m disappointed, little girl. Thought you were smart enough to learn from your mistakes.”
Bursts of gunfire rang out through the broken windows, bright flashes bathing the trees outside in white.
“There goes your crew, Tony,” Dante said, shaking his head.
The hard edge in Antonio’s stare cracked. Sasha had never seen this side of the Don, the broken side. He looked so frail, so weak while trapped in the clutches of sadness. Sasha balled her hand into a fist, stepping away from Vinny and Cash. For killing her mother, and stealing what would’ve been the best years of her life, Dante would die. But for hurting the only man who’d spared the time to care about her, she’d be sure to make her so-called father’s agony last for days.
“You actually think you can handle Lazzari business,” Sasha sneered, creeping toward Dante. “You couldn’t even run a two-bit biker gang.”
“He has me now, darlin’.”
A woman’s smooth voice flowed through the musty air, sending razor-tipped prickles beneath Sasha’s skin. She turned toward the voice she’d never thought would tickle her ears again, and an old woman walked from the shadows. It could’ve been her mother, if her mother had lived to that age. The resemblance struck like a knee to the gut. She might not be able to kill this woman, who looked so much like the person she wanted more than anything in this world.
“And my boys,” the woman said as the pack of lanky men moved in, creating a barrier of loaded rifles to follow her across the large room. “It seems my only daughter went ahead and got herself killed.”
“By him,” Sasha yelled, pointing at Dante.
“I know, sweetie. I already thanked him properly.”
“Gross,” Sasha muttered. Her entire family was fucking gross, on both sides. “I can see how you all think you’re so clever, but not one of you found this.” Sasha pulled a snub-nosed revolver from her bra, aiming it at Dante. There were only six shots in her chamber, but she just needed one. Antonio was going to be pissed. He’d have to scold her in Hell, because they weren’t getting out of this one alive.
Dante snickered. He must have thought her hesitation was due to his smug face. Time to prove dear old dad wrong. A grin popped onto Sasha’s lips as she squeezed the trigger. She aimed for Dante’s heart, but the bastard moved. The bullet blew through his shoulder, lodging into the stone wall behind him. When the ring in her ears dulled, she caught the tail end of his cry. It was like music to her fuzzy ears.
The butt of a rifle struck her chest. Air turned to fire, singeing away oxygen, and Sasha dropped to her knees. A whirl took the room in circles, and a barrel pressed against her temple, but she wasn’t letting go of her gun.
“Bring in the ape,” Dante yelled, cradling his blood-soaked shoulder.
A door banged open, and a roar flowed into the room. Sasha knew that growl, but it couldn’t be. He couldn’t be here.
She looked up from the floor as two men struggled to drag Dez in front of Dante, a third man dropping blows every time Dez fought. Vinny shouted, boots shuffled over the slap of fists, then Vinny and Cash dropped to their knees on either side of Sasha. At least they tried to fight. She was stuck on the cold, cracked floor in a stupor. If Dez was here, where was Tyler?
The moment Dez saw Sasha staring up at him from the floor, his body locked stiff. “Sasha!”
Dante pointed his gun at Dez and pulled the trigger.
“No!” Vinny cried out. He thrashed under the grip upon him, providing just enough of a distraction for Sasha to jump up off the floor. She lifted her gun as Dez slumped over, dripping blood from his shoulder.
“An eye for an eye, little girl.” Dante moved the barrel to Dez’s forehead. “You want to keep going?”
Dez steered his gaze to Sasha, nodding. He wanted her to shoot Dante. The dumb asshole probably had some romantic scenario playing out in his mind where they’d all go down in a hailstorm of bullets, meeting in the center of the room to kiss one last time before they died hand in hand. That stupid shit wasn’t happening. She, unlike the majority of people in this room, was a realist.
“Donatello, stop all this nonsense.” Antonio’s voice boomed throughout the building, shaking both her and Dante’s gun hand. “Let us talk about this, like civilized human beings.”
“Finish this already,” the old woman barked, with Ellen’s voice.
“Yeah.” Dante moved his aim from Dez to Antonio, cocking back the hammer. “I’m sorry it had to come to this. Goodbye, Tony.”
“Don’t,” Sasha yelled. The look in Dante’s eyes rattled her knees. She’d seen that regretful stare before, the night her mother died. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t watch another person she loved get gunned down by that man.
Her gun swung until finding the only thing that could affect every single person in the room, the floodlight. One shot and a thick veil of darkness covered them all.
A rifle poked Sasha in the back and she jumped aside, grabbing onto its barrel. The revolver slipped from her hand, its clank triggering a barrage of blasts. Each shot flooded a tiny space in white. In every corner of the room, bursts of gunfire lit a fraction of the scene. One flash showed Vinny, using her fallen revolver to blow the side of a man’s head to red splatter. Another millisecond of light revealed Dez crawling toward a rifle. The glare from the gun now in her grasp displayed a lovely image, despite how annoying the loud blast was. It showed the man she stole it from gagging on a mouthful of blood, a result of the bullets she’d shot into his throat.
Sasha crouched down as the man fell to the floor. In every strobe of light, she took a shot at an unfamiliar face. Bullets whizzed by, searing streaks of fire along her arm and cheek as they grazed her skin. She took a step, tripping on a tangle of floppy arms. Her chin whacked concrete, and a buzz silenced the gunshots that rattled her head. She stayed down, rolling onto her side. It could’ve been two seconds, two hours for all she knew. The thunder of high-powered rifles didn’t let up, and she never found the strength to push herself off the floor.
Fingers wrapped around Sasha’s wrist, squeezing. She kicked, lifting the rifle, and Dez pushed the barrel aside. Time seemed to stop as his hand slid along her cheek. In the flashes of gunfire, they stared into each other’s eyes. Her smile triggered his arms to circle her body. When lips brushed against her own, she giggled. Goddamn if she wasn’t about to kiss him in the middle of this room, surrounded by gunfire. Dez always got his way.
Sasha locked onto Dez’s lips, taking his
back to the floor. A bullet struck the ground, kicking concrete onto her face, and she didn’t even flinch. Her body was too busy crumbling to give a fuck. All that stupid shit going on outside Dez’s grasp could wait, for just one more kiss.
Chapter Eighteen
The shooting must’ve stopped somewhere between that one last kiss and the five that followed, since Vinny started kicking Sasha’s leg.
“Thanks,” Vinny grumbled, glaring down at Sasha, “for starting a shitstorm and ducking out to fuck in the corner.”
Sasha climbed to her feet, straightening her blood-splattered flannel. “I just saved our lives, asshole.”
“Not all our lives,” Vinny said, pointing across the room.
“Cash?” Sasha yelled, pushing Vinny aside. It was worse, much worse. Slumped against the threshold, Antonio sat in a pool of his own blood. A steady flow seeped between his fingers, rolling off his stomach to drench his lap.
“Oh fuck!” Sasha slipped on sticky puddles, hurrying to Antonio’s side. “Tony! You can’t die.” Her hands covered his, and a warm flow gushed between her fingers.
“Don’t worry, dear. I’ve already taken steps. Othello’s position is secured, right alongside your own.”
“I know,” Sasha said, unable to control the quaver in her voice. “That’s why you can’t die, you fat bastard.”
Antonio chuckled. His hands flopped to the concrete, letting his guts spill into Sasha’s palm.
“You’ll make a great underboss.”
“No!” Sasha yelled, looking over her shoulder. “Cash?”
“I’m here.” Cash limped across the room, less with every step.
“You good?” Sasha asked Cash, removing one hand from Antonio’s stomach to fish a set of keys from his pocket.
“Fuck yeah!”
“Go fetch Tony’s car, and be careful. Those guys might be out there.” Sasha took off her flannel, balling it over Antonio’s wound.
“Where’s Tyler?” Dez asked, kneeling beside Sasha. The way he clung to her arm when he asked, the tremble in his voice…she’d never heard that level of fright come from his mouth. It shook every one of her bones.
“He was supposed to be with you.” It was close to an accusation, the way she flung it out there, but fuck. What kind of grown-ass man gets kidnapped? “When was the last time you saw him?”
“I don’t know how long it’s been. I was drugged. I think I was on a plane. He was in his hospital room the last time I saw him, safe with Otis.”
“I couldn’t get ahold of Otis earlier. Fucking Kev, I knew he was lying.”
Vinny peeked his head outside, crouching low. “We might’ve killed them all. I didn’t hear any cars pull away.”
“Good,” Sasha said. “Can you check around the side, see if any of Tony’s men are alive?”
“Yeah.”
Vinny ducked out the door and Dez reached for a rifle, groaning. “I should go with him,” he said, teetering to his feet.
“Stop, dummy. You’ve been shot.” She’d grab Dez’s leg, but her hands were the only thing holding in Antonio’s intestines.
“It went right through. I’m good.”
“Then…stay here and protect me. I’m scared.” Sasha tried to push out the statement with an edge of fear and failed miserably. The words together, they just came out all awkward.
“Yeah, okay,” Dez snorted, walking toward the door.
“I’m totally unarmed here. Anything can happen to me,” she muttered into her chest, feeling pretty stupid. “You just gonna leave your woman.”
Dez stopped short, turning to face Sasha. “My wife.”
“Wife?” Antonio said. “I missed the wedding?”
“Don’t feel bad. I did too,” Sasha said, masking her regret with a sad little smile.
“We can do it again.” Dez knelt beside Sasha, leaning in to catch her gaze. “No coma, forged papers. If you want.”
Sasha looked at Antonio, who grinned between winces. His sticky fingers clutched onto her own drenched hand, growing weaker with every shuddering breath. An untouchable was dying in her grasp. Anything was possible, and eventually everything faded away. Sasha had to take the things she wanted, before she became nothing but a memory.
“Fuck yeah! Let’s do it.” She’d kiss Dez, but headlights flooded the warehouse and she needed to get a glimpse of Dante’s dead body. She scanned the still boots. There weren’t many. It sure looked like they’d clipped more men when the bullets were flying.
“Four out of ten ain’t bad,” Dez said, moseying around to poke bodies with the barrel of a rifle.
No old woman, and no douchebag wearing way too tight tacky leather pants.
“Donatello?” Antonio sputtered.
“He lives.” Her words came with a bitter edge, yet Antonio grinned.
Vinny called out to Cash, and Sasha leaned back, watching them load a body into the back seat. “Who is it?”
“I don’t know their names,” Vinny yelled, dragging another guy toward the car. “The tall one, and the guy who drove us here.”
It had to be Enzo and Marco. That would perk Antonio up. “Enzo and Marco are alive,” she said, looking down at Antonio. He stared up with blank eyes, beyond her face. Antonio’s chest no longer rose and fell in quick fits. No more gasps trickled out.
“No!” Sasha grabbed onto Antonio’s shirt, shaking. “Don’t leave me alone with this shit, Tony.” She dropped her head to his chest. Her warm tears sank into his shirt, his cold blood soaking through her tank top. “Please.”
“Sasha.” Dez pulled Sasha back. Antonio’s limp hand slapped the ground, and she turned away. She didn’t want Dez to see her cry. If he knew, really knew, how fragile she was, he’d leave too.
“Come on.” Dez glided his thumb across Sasha’s cheek, clearing away streaks of blood and tears. “We have to get your friends to the hospital.”
Dez helped Sasha off the blood-soaked floor even though it must’ve scorched his shoulder.
“Not the hospital,” she said, heading to the car. “We have a doctor. And a cleaner, to retrieve…the Don’s body.”
“We?” Dez snickered.
If only it were a joke. “Yeah. We. Me and Otis.”
Dez stopped in front of the car, his wide frame blocking one of the headlights. “What?” That question came out in a sharp, short tone.
“I’ll tell you about it on the way,” Sasha said, dropping into the passenger seat.
***
Otis
After two hours of sitting on a sidewalk with no weed, Otis picked Sasha’s lock. That girl thrived on pot, probably had at least three bags stashed around her room.
It only took opening one drawer to hit the jackpot. Sasha wouldn’t mind if he helped himself to one, maybe two, joints.
Otis picked up the phone, dialing Kev as he rolled a bone. A squeal of brakes echoed through the open motel door, and he set the phone back on its receiver. Then came the click of a bullet loading into its chamber.
He reached for his side to find it bare, holsterless. Fucking airlines, dumping him, unarmed and with no weed, in a city that wanted him dead. Just the thought that he’d actually paid for that kind of treatment boiled his blood. Otis crept beside the door, waiting for some asshole to poke a barrel inside so he could grab it.
Sure enough, some asshole came through the door gun first, and Otis grabbed their hand. He recognized Sasha’s wrist the instant he squeezed it, but his brain was too slow to stop his fingers from twisting. Sasha didn’t drop the gun, not his girl. Her heel crashed down on the top of his foot, and he hopped back. The tip of her boot stopped inches from his balls, sending a rush of air through his jeans to raise all the little hairs on his skin.
“Otis!” Sasha staggered back, gawking.
This was the moment Otis had prepared for. He’d spent hours rehearsing a speech to let Sasha down gentle, tell her Dez was gone. What a waste of time, since his spineless ass refused to speak. His gaze fell to the ugly carpet, and that�
��s where it stayed. Drugs, it had to be the lack of drugs. He’d never gone this long without a joint, had never been such a coward before.
“Where’s Tyler?” Dez growled, pulling Otis’s stare from the floor.
A smile spanned Otis’s lips. Dez was alive. Bloody, covered in cuts and bruises, about to rip his head off, but fucking alive. Otis didn’t know what to do, wasn’t used to happy. Before the strange feeling could crest, burst his skin, he rushed forward and wrapped his arms around Dez.
“Ah!” Dez cried out, flinching. “You’re gonna rip my stitches.”
Otis pulled back, caught Dez’s harsh glare, and then went in for another hug.
“Jesus,” Dez grumbled, pushing Otis away. “If it’s gonna be like that, you should know I’m a power-top.”
Sasha shielded her face, turning away. Bitch was probably snickering.
“Otis? What are you doing here?” Vinny squeezed his way into the room. He looked pretty beat-up, like he’d been fighting. Just like Dez.
Otis narrowed his glare on Dez, crossing his arms. “Please tell me you didn’t run off to fight your brother for Sasha. I thought you were fucking dead. I got on a plane.”
“I didn’t run the fuck off.” Dez poked Otis on the chest, forcing the man back a few steps. “Where’s Tyler!”
“He’s safe. In a fallout shelter on the Prichette farm.”
“Are you kidding me!” Dez shouted, his curled fingers raising. Otis thought the dude would wring his neck, but Dez just stomped to the phone. “What’s the number?”
“It’s on the nightstand,” Otis said in a rush. “The kid’s good, I swear. All the women are doting on him, putting swamp mud on his wounds. Kev got like twenty of his cousins to show up with sawed-offs, ready for trouble.”
“Swamp mud does work good,” Sasha said, plucking the joint Otis just rolled off the bed and putting it in her mouth.
