by Asher Scott
Motherfucker.
I hightailed it back to my car and laid strips down the block, drove down some back roads, and drove ninety miles per hour down the Saw Mill Parkway toward my showdown with Tavollaci.
I couldn’t outmuscle him, so I had to outthink him. I checked my guns and made sure my knife was secure. Now I just need a fucking plan.
I have my burner phone out and am dialing with one hand, while weaving through traffic like a fucking maniac with the other. Shit, that was close. I had just enough room to weave in front of a car into the other lane.
“Nicky, I need you man.”
“Anything, Luca.”
“Tavolacci has Abby. She’s the piece of ass I was telling you about the other night. Except she’s more than that to me now.”
“This is Luca, right? Since when has a chick gotten you all worked up?”
“I don’t have time for this shit, Nicky. I need your fucking help.”
“I’m yours, Luca. What do you need?”
“Meet me in Van Corlandt Park at Dog Bone Run in twenty minutes and make sure you bring your full kit.”
Chapter 26
Abby
I’m in an office. I can hear the sounds of the street below. My guess is that I’m somewhere in the Bronx, judging by the signs I saw as we drove in.
Tonio Tavollaci continued grilling me on the whereabouts of Luca and the money. My sore neck and throat were a recent reminder not to play cute with this dangerous man. He meant business, and just hating the guy’s guts enough to wish him a slow and painful death was not enough of a reason to disrespect him again. He would kill me without an afterthought.
We were alone now in this room, Tavolacci sitting across from me, leaning in, his sweaty face just inches from mine.
“For the last time, I don’t know where Luca is. He left me this afternoon.”
“Where was he headed and did he have the money with him?” His voice was measured and firm. The intimidation came with the close proximity of his face to mine and the cold cutting glare of those piercing black eyes that could look inside someone.
“He said he had some business to take care of. He took a leather bag with him. I don’t know if there was money in it or not. I just assumed it was his suitcase.” I was mostly lying, but part of it was the truth. I didn’t want Tavollaci to know anything other than what he already knew.
“This is a dangerous game you’re playing, Abby. If you tell me the truth, I’ll go easy on you.” We were playing good cop, bad cop. Bad cop was the guy choking me half to death in the car, and this attempt at a conversation was his version of good cop. I didn’t answer him. He was planning on killing me no matter what. He was a bad man and his talk wasn’t fooling me. I knew what he was. I could smell it on him. He killed my father, and I know Luca was going to come looking for me.
One thing was certain, though. I had never been more terrified in my whole life.
The only thoughts that gave me comfort were thinking of my time with Luca. Nothing in my life ever meant more or made me happier. His tongue darting in and out of my pussy, his cock filling me completely and leaving me begging for more, and of course, the rare times he smiled or made a joke showing me his lighter side. He cares for me deeply, I know he does. What we’ve shared together is special, and no matter what happens, not even Tonio Tavollaci can take it away.
He must be reading my mind, the creep. “You think your boyfriend will come, or will he run away with the money like a coward and leave you to me? You and I can be close friends, you know.” He pulls out a gun, checks the clip, and then snaps it back in for effect.
Luca’s no coward. He’ll come for me. I’m certain. Trying to gain back some sense of power, or perhaps convincing myself it’s true, I say, “He’ll come, and he’ll kill you when he does."
Chapter 27
Luca
The plan is in place. Nicky knows what to do. Most of the grunt work is up to me. She is my girl after all, and if I want this money bad enough, I’m going to have to earn it tonight.
Some traffic is heading down the street in the opposite direction, but it’s mostly quiet due to the advancing hour. I stay low, moving from shadow to shadow. I do most of my dirty work at night, so this feels natural to me. Armed to the hilt, I’m slowed down a bit by the bag full of money that I’m carrying, now strapped over my shoulder and falling behind my back.
There are two guards posted at the front door and likely more inside, so I’ll need help from Nicky on this one. With my body still hidden in the shadows and only my hand evident in the light, I wave to Nicky and he sparks into action.
I hear a loud bang come from the alley, maybe a lead pipe against a garbage can. The two goons converse quickly, and one of them waves the other over to check it out. This guy must be over six-foot, wearing black slacks and a tight black shirt. He looks like a professional wrestler and must outweigh me by a decent clip.
I watch him descend into the alley, his gun drawn. Once he’s swallowed up by the shadows, I can barely see him as he looks right, but then as he turns his head to the left, he’s struck in the head and falls in a heap to the ground.
“‘Atta’ boy, Nicky,” I whisper to myself.
The banging noise comes again, Nicky drawing the second guy in. This time I move in, walking in a crouch behind cars parked along the street, staying low. This guy will be more alert and ready to shoot when he doesn’t see his buddy. I move behind a newspaper stand, then slowly follow in the footsteps of the guy as he moves cautiously into the alley, his gun pointed out in front of him. He’s moving slowly, which allows me time to catch up with him. Gripping my gun tightly, I raise my hand and bring it down with a vengeful force, striking into his skull, the loud crack of metal against bone catching him by surprise.
Nicky grabs the guy’s legs, drags him into the shadows, and then pulls out a roll of duct tape to make sure these two goons can’t get back in the fight.
I give Nicky a quick thumbs up, point up to the fire escape, and continue on past him, careful to watch my footing so as not to raise suspicion with anyone else. Around the back corner now, I scale a six-foot metal fence, jump from near the top and land in a crouching position near the back door. A few steps and I’m there. I check the knob. Locked. “Fuck,” I curse under my breath.
I pull my kit out of my pocket, lay it flat on the step, and work the tumbler until I hear the telltale click sound, and know I’m in. I pack up and move quietly into the darkened kitchen. There is just a small fluorescent light under a far counter splashing a bit of light into the darkness. I’ve been in here a few times, so I know the basic layout. Tonio’s office is upstairs and that’s likely where he has Abby.
I move swiftly and quietly. Speed is the key here. The more time that passes, the more of a chance that one of these goons will realize some of their buddies are missing. Then it’ll turn into a bloodbath. Stealth and speed will win the day here.
The loud ticking of the grandfather clock in the main hall mixed with the distant sound of a swooning Frank Sinatra coming from another room echoes through the cavernous hall, devoid of carpets or anything to silence my movements. I cautiously poke my head out into the light, quickly pulling back when I see a figure just on the other side of the clock.
Hatching my plan of attack, I remember there’s another entrance to the kitchen on the other side of the clock, and it will have me approaching the guard from behind on the left. I grab the garrote from my pocket, a thin metal wire, and wrap it around my leather-gloved fists. Then I approach the other doorway in my crouch position.
I inhale a deep breath. I poke my head out, note his back is to me, so stealthily I move toward him, swing my hands over his head, and pull back with incredible force, the wire pushing on his throat and silencing his voice permanently. He kicks his feet a few times and pushes back into me, but within a few seconds, I’ve crushed his windpipe and he kicks no more. Without releasing the wire, I drag his limp body into
the kitchen to the large freezer door, open the latch with one hand and drag him inside, leaving him to lie next to some hanging pig carcasses, right where he belongs.
That’s three down. There could be more. I relatch the freezer, keeping the garrote handy just in case another thug gives me his back. I take my boots off to quiet my steps, as the hardwood floor would easily give me away.
I follow the sound of the music to a front parlor room where Tonio’s crew hangs out. I can make out the reflection of two of Tonio’s goons in a window on the opposite wall. Fuck.
I screw the silencer on the end of my gun, knowing full well that any blast will wake the whole house up. They’re sitting opposite each other, one on a low-back couch and the other in an overstuffed chair. Thankfully it’s mostly dark in there with just a Tiffany lamp next to the couch illuminating maybe one-third of the room.
I slip around the corner, garrote handily wrapped around both of my hands, and the gun at the ready in my dominant right hand. That’s the nice thing about the thin piece of wire; it allows you to still use your hands.
Following the wall directly to my right, I navigate the table with the record player on top. Frank Sinatra’s, The Best is Yet to Come is playing, and I immediately see the irony in it. For me maybe. You guys are fucked, and you don’t even know it yet. I bump it slightly with the bag over my back as I move past it, causing it to skip. Fuck.
Their conversation about the Brooklyn Dodgers and old Ebbets Field stops for a moment when one of them says, “Did you hear it skip?” I hold my breath, ready for anything as my fate hangs on what happens next.
“Yeah, I guess that’s why most people use fucking Pandora.” I exhale, the sweat already forming on my forehead and dripping into my eyes. I continue moving, keeping my eye on the one head poking up over the edge of the couch. I come right up behind him, and I’m holding my breath now.
Easy Luca. This is do or die.
I pop over the top, the garrote slung loosely behind my hands, point the gun at the far figure in the chair and squeeze the trigger. Pffft. There’s the sound of a silencer shot being fired, and the sight of a man’s head slumping, a bleeding hole right above his left eye. Then as the guy closest to me turns his head, I wrap the garrote firmly, one of his fingers able to get in between the wire and his neck, the tip getting severed off as I pull down behind the couch with all my weight, the few seconds of gasping turning to silence, the struggle quickly over.
I breathe hard through my mouth and let the garrote slide off the man’s neck with the help of gravity, his lifeless eyes staring emptily at me. My shoulder is killing me now, and I grasp it and try to forget the pain. I recognize him. Tony “Giggles” Chicatelli. A name he earned for always giggling nervously after killing someone. He’s a bad fuck. They all are. I’m doing the world a favor here, although some people would be quick to judge me.
Five motherfuckers down, and I don’t have a scratch on me. This is getting it done.
I hide the bodies in the corner behind a grand piano. I take their weapons and stash them in my leather bag. I don’t know what kind of firepower I’ll need and would prefer to go in packing.
A quick sweep of the downstairs tells me I’m all clear. I locate my boots and put them back on. All carpet from here, leading up the stairs, and into Tonio’s office. Then I hear it. It’s Tonio’s voice. But where is it?
I enter the parlor again, and quickly realize where it’s coming from. Fuck. Walkie-talkies. “Everybody check in.”
“All clear here.”
“All clear.”
Silence. There should be five more guys chiming in, but they’re not going to. Now what?
“Everybody check in goddammit.” Tonio sounds pissed now.
The same two voices from before. “Clear.”
“All clear.”
Silence. Motherfuck me. I hide around the corner in the parlor, guns drawn and ready for anything. I wonder whether Nicky is hearing this shit.
I need to move quick. Up the stairs, spinning my head in every direction as the balcony wraps around, my senses all on high-alert.
There. I see a head turn and a gun almost reach around pointing right at my head. Pfft, pfft.
Two shots find their mark, the walkie hits the floor, and the body follows shortly after with an audible thump.
One more left, then Tonio. No time to check the other doors as I need to get to Abby fast, unless it’s already too late. Sprinting down the hall, I front the office door made of oak and throw my shoulder into it. Fuck, hurt shoulder. I front-kick it with everything I’ve got, but it doesn’t give. Step back, fire into the lock, and kick it one more time. It swings open and bounces back into me from the force of bouncing off the wall.
Tonio Tavollaci glares at me, his eyes daggers, staring into me with unfettered hatred. With one arm around Abby’s neck, he holds her close with a gun to her temple.
I take a step forward and see Abby’s eyes dart to my left. Seeing a change in her expression, I raise my arm instinctively and feel the white hot heat of a blade sear into my shoulder, hitting bone and sending a shockwave of pain through my body. My right hand raises the gun across my chest, and squeezes off two shots right into the gut of my attacker. A sidekick later and he hurtles backwards into Tonio’s trophy case, crashing into the glass, a large shard poking out through the front of his neck. Dead. The blade came out with the man’s hand, doing more damage, and shredding my shoulder even more.
Abby shrieks through Tonio’s sweaty palm, and I can see tears streaming down her beautiful face. Blood is flowing down my shoulder, turning my black leather red, as I take a step forward, my gun aimed right at his head. He ducks his head behind her.
“Sorry, Tonio, I didn’t mean to bust up all your boy scouts like that.”
He snarls back at me like a rabid dog. “They’re expendable. You Luca. You always had the goods, and I could have made you a legend in this town. But you were too much of a pussy.”
“I call it a conscience. You can’t relate.”
“A conscience will get you killed, Luca. That was the first thing I taught you, and it’s the last lesson you’ll ever learn.”
Abby struggles in his grip and he reminds her, “I’ll put a bullet in your head. You settle down.”
“Why don’t you poke your head out so I can see you, Tonio? That is unless you’re too much of a pussy.” I move in a half-step and he backs up away from his desk even further. The only sound is the brisk breeze coming in through the open window just behind Tonio, washing over me like a wet blanket.
“Keep your distance, Luca. Any closer and she gets her brains splattered against the wall.”
“Easy, Tonio. This is between you and me.”
“Drop the money, and get the fuck out of here. I’ll deal with you another time. I’m keeping your woman as an insurance policy. You’re going to do it slow and easy, no quick movements.”
I do as he says, grabbing the strap, my bad shoulder searing in pain as I strain to lift the bag over my head. I never take the gun off him. I toss the bag on the desk right in front of him, his eyes shifting to it quickly, and that’s when I nod.
Nicky springs through the open window from the fire escape, knocking Tonio’s gun hand outward and away from Abby’s head, a shot ringing out but hitting the ceiling, and he grabs him around the neck with his other arm.
“Abby, duck!” I scream out, and as she quickly drops to the floor. I fire into his shooting shoulder, and he instantly releases the gun. I want him alive. Abby scampers to the corner, and although I want to comfort her, I have unfinished business to deal with.
Nicky holds him up for me, and I never take my gun away from his head. You don’t underestimate a guy like Tonio.
I pat him down, and convinced he’s not armed, I put my gun on the desk. Nicky hands him over to me and checks on Abby. As soon as I have him, I throw a right cross, followed by a right uppercut that separates some of his teeth from his jaw. I
hold him up with my bad arm, the brutal pain sliding into the background as I work Tonio over with a couple of rights to his gut that has him spitting up blood all over the leather bag containing the m0ney.
“Whose money is it?”
“Fuck you, Luca,” he whispers, as I don’t think he has the strength to talk.
Holding his body upright against the wall, I pummel him with a few knees right to the midsection, and follow with a straight right that breaks his jaw.
I step out the window with one leg and drag Tonio out to the fire escape with me as I exit the stuffy office. The breeze feels good on me as I reach down, grab Tonio by the shoulders and hold him over the edge of the fire escape.
“That’s a long way down, Tonio. Thirty feet maybe. You think you’d survive?”
“I got nothing to say to you, prick.” His words are garbled as he can barely move his mouth due to his broken jawbone and the swelling already disfiguring his face.
There’s one more thing I need to know before I can end this. I will get it out of him. I push his body farther over, now holding him by the ankles, dangling him out into space. I can barely hold the obese fuck.
“My shoulders hurting me real bad. I don’t know if I can hold you.” I wasn’t shitting around at all.
“Pull me up,” he says desperately.
“You need to tell me whose money it is.”
“Just pull me up.” His voice is panicky.
“Tell me, Tonio.”
“It’s fucking mine, alright?”
“How?
I readjust my grip as it’s slipping. He doesn’t answer.
“How’d you come into that money?”
“How the fuck do you think?”
“I’m not the one hanging upside down off a building. You may want to talk before I lose my grip.”
“I skimmed off the top.”
“You stole from Don Alessi?”
“Yeah. Now let me up.” He’s pleading for his life now, and I like it.
