Last Man Standing

by Wendy Rosnau

  “You don’t need Elena, Vinnie. Not if you have the estate,” Lucky said.

  “No, I don’t need her. But I want her.” He pulled a stiletto from his pocket and walked toward the post where Joey sagged against the rope that bound his chest and legs. Vincent jerked up his head and pointed the knife at Joey’s right eye. “Once more, Lucky. Where is Elena Tandi?”

  “I’m over here, Vince.”

  Her voice jerked Lucky’s head around. Elena appeared like a mirage in the tunnel entrance. He blinked, then blinked again. For a second he wondered if the loss of blood from his gunshot wound was making him muddy-headed. He’d given Frank strict instructions not to let Elena out of his sight at Santa Palazzo for fear that she might try to return to Chicago. And now here she was!

  She came forward, looking like a cat burglar on a midnight prowl. Dressed in tight black pants and a black sweater that clung to her breasts like a second skin, she carried no weapon, her hands relaxed at her sides, her beautiful hair moving around her shoulders like a storm cloud.

  Vincent spun on his heel, his wool coat moving around him like a phantom’s cape. Grinning, he said, “So we meet again, my lovely Elena. You are definitely your mother’s daughter. I thought that from the moment I first laid eyes on you. Yes, Grace was a lovely woman. It was too bad what happened to her. But—” he shrugged “—a whore shouldn’t be so choosy. That’s what I told her the day I learned she and Frank were seeing each other behind Vito’s back. I proposed that she and I should get to know each other a little better, too. Only, she refused me. No one refuses me, Elena. That will be the first lesson you will learn as my wife.”

  Lucky saw Elena stiffen ever so slightly. She stopped ten feet from Vincent and planted a hand on her hip. “Is that a proposal, Vince?”

  “No, Elena, it’s a certainty if you want to walk out of here alive.” He motioned to Lucky. “Either way, he’s dead.”

  “That’s what I thought.” She glanced at Lucky where he sat tied to the post. “He has a point, you know. You’re going to be dead in a few minutes, and he’s—” she smiled at Vincent “—going to be rich. What would a smart woman do, Lucky?”

  Vincent threw back his head and laughed. “Not only does she look like her mother, she has Vito’s head for business.”

  “So it seems,” Lucky said tightly. “I always said that women and money have a lot in common. Here one day, gone the next.”

  “Don’t be a sore loser, Lucky,” Vincent taunted.

  Elena looked back at Lucky, her eyes going to the blood that continued to ooze out the hole in his leather jacket. Next, she eyed the guard lingering by Joey’s beaten body. When her gaze returned to Vincent, she said, “Death or marriage to a vengeful man with no honor… Vince, I think that’s no choice at all. I would rather kill myself than let you touch me.”

  Her words transformed Vincent’s smile into an ugly snarl. He pointed the stiletto at her as he walked toward her. “It’s too bad you feel that way, Elena, because I will own Dante Armanno, and I will—” he ran the knife over her breasts “—be touching you very soon.”

  “It could happen the way you say. Then again, would you ever be able to turn your back on me or close your eyes at night knowing I want you dead? That I’ll be thinking about it every minute of every day?” That said, Elena spit in his face, rewarded for her efforts with the back of Vincent’s hand.

  Lucky roared out his protest and fought the ropes that held him to the post.

  Elena stumbled back, lost her balance and fell across Lucky’s sprawled legs.

  “Elena!” Lucky felt as if his heart was being ripped out of his chest.

  Elena rolled onto her side to face him, blood trailing from the corner of her mouth. Slowly she dragged herself between his legs, whispered, “Jackson’s waiting for a signal. He’s armed with Tony’s gun.”

  That was all Lucky needed to hear to know Vina was safe and Benito had neutralized the living room. He said, “Unzip my fly and take my gun.”

  “Get up, Elena,” Vincent demanded. “Get up, you black-haired bitch.”

  “Whatever you say, Vince,” Elena purred, then quickly unzipped Lucky’s jeans and slid her hand inside. Her eyes met his briefly as she touched him, then slid her fingers over his flesh and between his legs. The second she felt the steel in her hand, she shoved herself to her knees, made a quarter turn and aimed the gun at the guard behind Joey. Without the slightest hesitation, she pulled the trigger and shot the guard in both legs.

  The gunfire was the signal Jackson was waiting for, Lucky decided, because Jacky appeared at the bottom of the stairs like a dark angel just as the lights went out in the tunnel.

  Elena dropped to the ground as a number of gunshots exploded in the tunnel. Feeling her way in the dark, she dragged herself to the post, needing to touch Lucky. He’d been shot, and the way he was sitting she suspected his legs had given out on him. She reached the post only to find him gone. For a split second she thought that maybe she’d gotten turned around and had ended up at the wrong posts. But then her hands encountered the rope that had secured him to the post.

  A few minutes later the lights came back on. Blinking, Elena looked around. Lucky was nowhere in sight, and neither was Vincent D’Lano. But Jackson was at Joey’s side, slicing through his rope with a knife and helping him to stand.

  She rose to her feet quickly, dusting off her backside. “Where’s Lucky?”

  Jackson said, “I cut him loose. He must have gone after D’Lano.”

  “Joey, are you all right?” Elena asked.

  He looked up, his face swollen and bruised. “I’ll make it, Elena. What are you doing back here?”

  The censure in his tone made her bristle. “I had unfinished business.”

  Joey braced his hands on his thighs and leaned forward, struggling to stay on his feet. “We need to find Lucky, Jacky.”

  A noise behind them had Elena pivoting to see Palone hobble into view. That was when she realized he must have been the one responsible for turning out the lights. He said, “We can catch him with the four-wheeler.”

  “Jacky and I’ll run him down.” Joey straightened and wiped blood from his mouth. “You take Elena to safety, Palone. Put her in the tunnel with Sunni and Rhea.”

  “No!” Elena shook off Palone’s hand on her arm. “I want to go with you. I want—”

  Joey glared at her. “You will do what I tell you. My brother needs to know you’re safe. You are a distraction, Elena. One that could get him killed. Capiche?”

  Elena knew Joey was right. Lucky would sacrifice himself for her if need be, and she didn’t want that any more than Joey did. She said, “All right. I’ll go with Benito.”

  Palone tossed Joey a Beretta. “The Colombians are still alive and so are two guards. If I turn off the lights, it might even the odds.”

  “Do it,” Joey instructed, then allowed Jackson to help him to the trackster.

  Chapter 15

  Lucky dodged a volley of bullets from Vincent’s two guards just as the lights went out for a second time. He had no idea where the Colombians or Vinnie were, but the guards had obviously been instructed to hold him off to allow their boss to get away.

  He ignored the pain in his arm and moved forward as soon as the gunfire let up. Behind him he could hear the trackster’s engine, then he saw the headlights. He kept close to the wall and watched as the vehicle, with Joey behind the wheel and Jackson hanging on to the back, came into view. Then he stepped out of the shadows and hopped on the back with Jackson as the four-wheeler slowed down. In a secret compartment behind the front seat, he pulled out a sawed-off shotgun and a Beretta.

  Around the next corner, in the headlights of the four-wheeler, they spied the two guards running for the mouth of the tunnel. Lucky fired the lupara over their heads, and the two men dropped to the ground. Joey slammed on the brake, and while the trackster skidded to a stop, Jackson and Lucky jumped out and subdued the guards.

  When Lucky straightened, he s
aw Joey holding his ribs as he climbed out from behind the wheel. Striding forward, he backed his brother up against the trackster and jerked his sweater up to see the black and purple bruises lining the right side of his rib cage. He swore, then said, “Busted ribs, Joey. You need a doctor.”

  Joey eyed Lucky’s bloody arm. “And you don’t?”

  “I feel better than you look. Where’s Elena? Is she all right?”

  “She’s fine. Palone was going to take her back to the tunnel.”

  Glad to hear that, Lucky said, “I’ll drive.”

  When Joey didn’t protest, he knew his brother was in a lot of pain. Making a quick decision, he climbed into the four-wheeler, turned on the ignition and before Joey or Jackson could climb in, took off.

  “Lucky! Dammit, Lucky! Come back!”

  Lucky never once considered turning around. He had made a promise to Vito, and for Elena’s sake, he knew that she would never rest easy until the man responsible for her mother’s pain had been dealt with. And then there was Joey to consider. His brother had suffered enough at the hands of Vincent D’Lano, as had his father. And Jacky and Sunni’s happiness had been threatened, as well.

  Lucky found the Colombians dead a few feet from the mouth of the tunnel. He hadn’t expected it, and by the surprised looks on the two men’s faces, neither had they. Shot at close range, they still had their guns strapped to their shoulders.

  “Play with snakes and you get bit,” Lavina had always told her boys. And it was true. Vinnie was a snake, a man who would lash out at whoever got in his way.

  “A venduto,” Lucky muttered, searching for Vinnie’s tracks as he stepped out into the blowing wind and knee-deep snow. The day was almost gone. In a half hour it would be dark and Vinnie would be hard to track.

  Lucky picked up the trail quickly and moved into the woods at a brisk pace. He was glad for his jacket, feeling the gusty wind tear at his clothes. He shivered and tried to ignore the throbbing in his arm, knowing if Vinnie made it to the road, he’d be gone for good.

  Lucky pushed himself through the snow, determined, yet suddenly uneasy. As if there was someone else in the woods besides him and Vinnie.

  Fifteen minutes later he saw blood in the snow, and the sight of it made his chest tighten.

  He knelt down, studying the snow around the blood. He had seen a number of knife fights, had been in many himself. He was certain that what he was looking at was the result of such a fight.

  He couldn’t get past the image of Elena’s efficiency with a knife that night at the Shedd. Or her determination to settle the score with Vinnie on her own.

  Only, Joey said Palone had taken her back to the tunnel. But there was a way into the tunnel and a way out.

  The idea that Elena could be out here, that she could be the one bleeding to death at this very minute, almost buckled his legs. Heart pounding, he followed the trail of blood deeper into the woods. It was almost dark, the trees casting heavy shadows, when Lucky spied the body. He raised his lupara and moved toward the form dressed in black. His gut twisted and he felt his throat close off as he knelt by the body and rolled it over. Vinnie D’Lano, no longer wearing his coat, stared back at him with sightless eyes, his face cut in a familiar line that Lucky had no trouble recognizing.

  Suddenly a twig snapped and he stood quickly. The lupara anchored against his hip, he aimed the gun, ready to shoot the first thing that moved.

  Another twig snapped, and he turned in the direction of the sound. A moment later a shadow stepped out from behind a tree and started toward him.

  “It was my right. My burden. Not yours, though I know you would have seen it through.”

  “Sì,” Lucky agreed. “It was your right, Frank.”

  Suddenly more twigs were snapping as Joey came crashing through the woods holding his ribs. Breathing hard, he jerked to a stop. He looked down at Vincent’s body, then to Frank, who stood there holding a knife.

  Frank said, “It was a fair fight. I gave him a knife. I gave him a chance to kill me.”

  Joey nodded. “Then it’s over. The past is finally settled.”

  “Yes,” Frank said. “The past is settled.”

  “And the future?” Joey prompted, his gaze moving to his brother.

  Lucky cleared his throat. “I was going to tell you both this later, but I think now is as good a time as any. Last night I got a call from New York. They’ve made their decision about who they want to run Chicago.”

  “I take it Santo was passed over.”

  Lucky nodded.

  Joey swore. “So who will be the new boss of bosses? Is he young or old?”

  “He’s not too old,” Lucky offered.

  “And where is he from?” Frank asked. “New York?”

  “No. Right here in Chicago.”

  “Then we know him?” Joey asked anxiously.

  “Sì. We know him.”

  “Do we like him?” Joey pressed.

  “That’s a hard question to answer.”

  “Meaning you don’t,” Joey grumbled, still holding his ribs. “So what’s his name?”

  Lucky glanced at Frank, then back to Joey. Taking a deep breath, he said, “I’ve been asked to fill Carlo’s shoes.” He waited for the words to sink in, waited for his brother to react. When neither Joey nor his father said a word, he went on, “I figure it’s the best way to keep the drug cartels out of the city and work on the neighborhoods like we used to talk about, Joey. Am I wrong?”

  Suddenly Frank smiled. “No, Lucky, you aren’t wrong. I’d say they picked the best man for the job.”

  Lucky was still waiting to hear from Joey, needing his approval.

  Finally his brother nodded. Then came a smile. “Papa is right. There is no better choice. You know I will support you in this. Jacky will, too. To the end and beyond, that’s what we promised each other, fratello.”

  “She left with your father,” Palone said.

  “She’s gone?” Lucky stood in his bloody shirt, staring at Benito Palone as if he was sure he’d heard wrong. They’d returned moments ago by way of the tunnel to find Jackson and Hank Mallory already in the last stages of mopping up.

  Moody and Vincent D’Lano’s bodyguards were already incarcerated, and Tony Roelo would be taken to the hospital first before he was put in jail.

  Anxious to get back to Grace, Frank had left almost immediately. And Elena had gone with him.

  Lucky still couldn’t believe it. How could she have just left without saying one word to him? Was justice all she’d come back for? Well, maybe it was.

  “How’s your leg, Palone?”

  “It’s fine, sir. Sore, but I can manage.”

  “That’ll be all,” Lucky muttered. “Take the night off. You did a good job today. Grazie.”

  “It was my pleasure to work with you, boss. What about your arm?”

  “The bullet passed through it. All I need is a bandage.”

  Lucky paced the room after Palone left. Fifteen minutes later he stepped out into the hallway to find Summ hurrying toward him. She looked him up, then down. “Need arm fixed. Dry clothes and hot tea.”

  “Yes, I suppose.”

  “We are good team, shujin.”

  “Yes, a good team,” he replied.

  “Tea in room waiting for you. I come bandage you after you take shower.”

  “Where’s my brother and his family?”

  “Upstairs in green room. Friend and fiancée in yellow room with dog. I see to their comfort. Missy Lavina in blue room.”

  Lucky entered the master bedroom minutes later to the scent of orange-spice tea. Unbuttoning his shirt, he descended the stairs, then entered the bathroom.

  Maybe he would call Elena once she had enough time to arrive at Santa Palazzo, he mused as he stripped off his shirt and turned on the shower. Maybe he could go for a visit after Christmas. Or—

  No, he knew he wouldn’t do that. By leaving without saying anything, she was telling him she wanted a clean break. He had to accep
t that. Respect her decision.

  The shower warmed him and cleaned his wound at the same time. Lucky left the bathroom minutes later with a towel wrapped around his arm, wearing a pair of black satin pajama bottoms. Ten minutes later Summ arrived to bandage his arm and deliver a second pot of tea. This one had a distinct odor: Matcha.

  Once she left, he prowled the room for another hour while he considered Joey’s broken ribs and the goose egg on Jacky’s forehead. He didn’t doubt that both men were already in a prone position and being administered to by gentle hands.

  Gentle hands…

  The image of Elena’s hands gliding over his body stirred him. He didn’t want to be tortured, but he deliberately climbed into bed, anyway, knowing that if he slept he would dream of her. Dream of her hands touching him in a dozen places.

  He dozed off quickly, anxious to dream about her hands on him while she was curled up next to him.

  He didn’t know how long he slept. It could have been ten minutes, or an hour and ten, but when he heard the music, his first thought was that it was playing in his head and he was still dreaming. He sat up slowly, feeling the soreness in his arm, knowing it would get worse before it got better.

  Begrudging the fact that he’d been woken and that Elena had been forced out of his head, he was about to lie back down, when her image appeared again—only this time he wasn’t asleep.

  He blinked his eyes, expecting her to disappear, but the curvy outline stayed there—there beneath the waterfall.

  She was wearing a white satin slip that clung to her body.

  Lucky could no longer blame the image on too much Scotch. He hadn’t touched a drop in days. If Summ had spiked the tea, he was going to wring her neck.

  He slid off the bed, his chest bare, the black satin pants riding low on his hips. “Elena…”

  She never answered, her image suddenly disappearing behind the waterfall.