(2012) Blood on Blood (3 page)

He was quicker than I expected. His hand flashed out from beneath his jacket. If he’d been carrying heat, I would’ve been dead. Instead, he snapped open a silver blade with a solid
click
and held it out.

“Come on, pig,” he said, his voice dropping to a low hiss. He waved the blade back and forth in front of him. “Show me what you got.”

I wasn’t as big as when I went through the police academy years ago and probably not as strong, either. But I was faster. And meaner.

I raised my hands defensively, masking the motion of my leg. I lashed out with a foot, landing a thundering blast on Hawk-face’s upper leg. He let out a cry of pained surprise. The flowing motion of the knife froze in mid-air. I reached out, grasped his wrist and twisted it as hard as I could. I felt rather than heard the resounding pop that came next.

“
Sakra!
” he yelled.

His knees gave way and he started to fall. I helped him with an arm bar, slamming him into the linoleum. His breath came out in a loud
woof
.

I let go immediately and stood up to face Jiři, who I knew would be coming hard. Sure enough, the muscle bound prick was barreling toward me. Eddie clung to one arm, blood flowing from his nose and mouth. The tough little bastard was reaching for a bicep with his teeth bared, looking to lay a bite on Jiři.

Jiři was a big guy and like most big guys, he came at me without any caution. I fired a left at his nose, landing a light shot. My right came blasting in right after. I timed it perfectly. His forward motion and my fist combined for a hellacious punch that stopped him cold in his tracks. The force of the blow reverberated up my arm and into my shoulder.

I didn’t hesitate. Like a jackhammer, I alternated lefts and rights straight down his middle. Throat, solar plexus and stomach, then a hard, right upper cut to the balls.

Jiři didn’t fall, but he hunched over after the final punch.

Eddie bit his bicep.

I drove my knee up into his face.

Jiři let out a guttural cry of pain. Blood gushed out of his nose. His hands flew to his face.

I turned back to Hawk-face, who was starting to push himself up. I threw two booming kicks into his side. There was no technique, just brute force and all that I could muster. He fell back to the ground, curling up in a ball.

Jiři let out another painful grunt. I turned to see him shove Eddie aside as the smaller man tried to get his mouth on Jiři’s bicep again. Eddie staggered back. He looked at me, then at Jiři and Hawk-face, wondering what to do next.

I reached down and picked up the knife. There was a piece of me that wanted to jam the blade into Jiři’s chest and yell, “See? This is who the fuck I am!” But I didn’t. Maybe I wasn’t a cop anymore, but I didn’t want to spend the next fifty years on the run or in a prison cell, either.

I closed the blade and tossed the knife to Eddie. He juggled twice but finally caught it.

“Get up,” I told Hawk-face. “Get up and get the fuck out.”

Hawk-face groaned but didn’t move. Jiři pulled his hands away from his face. They were covered in blood, but the bleeding from his nose had already stopped. He was warrior stock, this one. I think that if it weren’t for the fact that Hawk-face was clearly in charge, Jiři would’ve fought to the death. Because for guys like him, every fight
is
to the death.

Reluctantly, Jiři seemed to accept that this  was over. He reached down and helped Hawk-face to his feet. His motions were gentle.

“You broke my fucking rib, you cocksucker,” Hawk-face sputtered.

I ignored his words. “Don’t come back,” I said. “We’ll go to the Irish for protection. Even if they’re not interested, the Polacks will be. Either one of them will do more than bust your ribs. They’ll kill you and your boss. So stay the fuck away.”

Jiři helped Hawk-face toward the door. The smaller man sneered at me. “You might be right, you cop fuck. The micks can have this pile of shit place. But that doesn’t protect
you
. And I’ll see you again.”

I didn’t answer. Jiři supported Hawk-face as they went out the door.

“I’ll see you again,
kunda
,” Hawk-face said as the door swung shut.

When they were out of sight, I looked over at Eddie. He still seemed stunned.

“You don’t have the Irish looking after this place?” I asked him.

He shook himself from his reverie. “Course I do,” he snorted. He pulled a white towel from his apron and wiped the blood from his face.

I sighed. If I’d known that, I would’ve let them take the money and leave. Eddie could report it to whoever he paid protection to and they’d deal with the Czechs. Now I had two more enemies in this world.

Eddie pointed at my hands. “You need ice?”

I glanced down at my knuckles and flexed both hands. They hurt a little but nothing serious. Most of my targets had been soft ones, and I landed them right.

“No, I’m good.”

Eddie nodded. He took a deep breath and let it out. “Jesus. Thanks, Mick.”

“You’re welcome,” I said, though I didn’t feel it. I should’ve known he paid the Irish, but I guess you miss a few things when you’re on the grill and busy banging the waitress.

That made me think of Connie. I turned toward the kitchen. She stood near the doorway, her cell phone perched in her hand. I could see the question on her face. Should she call 9-1-1? But it’d been over too fast.

I looked back at Eddie and shrugged. “I’ll see you tomorrow, boss.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said. “See you tomorrow.”

I headed back toward the kitchen and the alley exit, because this time I wanted to walk past Connie. I wanted to smell her perfume. I wanted her to smell the sweat on me. Let her know some regret. Because I knew full well who was going to be looking for a job in a few days, and it wasn’t me.

“Say hi to Steve for me, baby,” I said as I swept by her. I continued through the doors to the kitchen and out the alley exit before she could answer.

FIVE

Jerzy

As we’re weaving through the backroom and small kitchen on our way to Patrik’s office, I notice not too much has changed back here, either. Except the big bodies. Lots of muscle around every corner.

Like the bar and main room out front, the hallways are long and low. The lighting is bad and if I hadn’t been here a million times, I’d be bumping into walls and corners.

We make a left and down on the end of the hallway will be Patrik’s office, right across from the old man’s. The music is muffled now but thumping away all the while and it sure sounds like K.C. singing about how that’s the way , uh huh, uh huh, he likes it. I mean, I got Polish blood in me and all, but sweet Jesus, what the fuck with this music?

Uh huh, Uh huh.
Thump, thump. Hey, I guess it’s better than the shines with their fuckin’ rap or the micks with their stupid ass jigs.

I can see that a monster with a flat square face and crew cut is standing down there waiting for us. I nod at him. He just looks at me like I’m a rib eye steak and he hasn’t eaten in a week. While Patrik is unlocking his office door, I look over at the closed door of old man Ambrozy’s office.

“Ambrose ever make it in here anymore?”

“Naw Jerz, not too much….not too much. Ambrose is old and tired. Tato, he is old school and he just doesn’t like the way the world is now. He gave the business end of it up, gave me the reins so to speak. We’re up against some shit right now that he doesn’t even understand.”

Opening the door to his office, Patrik steps aside and waves me in with a real flourish, like he’s the doorman at the Hyatt fuckin’ Regency or something.

I look around the office. “Holy shit Patrik, this is even grander than before. Did you hire a gay designer here or what?”

The place is all low lit with recessed lighting and nice table lamps. Everything is different shades of black and brown, with lots of leather. The walls, the furniture, the fucking carpet, everything is all color coordinated.

“I mean what the fuck?” I’m turning and staring around the room like a dumbass.

“What you think Jerz, hey?”

“Looks like business is good my friend, but I mean c’mon though, somebody had to help you deck this place out. You could never even buy a suit for yourself without looking like a circus ringmaster.”

I laugh and slap him on the back. He laughs and gives me a shove. He walks behind a big ass mahogany desk and flops down in a leather chair, then motions for me to sit down. “The Dudek family has always had class. We have a taste for fine things and culture, Jerzy. Something I don’t expect a peasant like you to really comprehend.”

Another round of laughs. Patrik has always been on my good side, somebody I could actually call a friend. That, I’ll guarantee you, is a very short list.

He turns around to the little credenza bar behind him and grabs two glasses. “Now, my old
kumpel
, how about that Belvedere I promised you?”

“I see my bottle, where’s yours?”

He pours two vodkas and we clink.

“
Salut.
”

“
Salut.
”

After three or four drinks and kicking around the younger years a little bit, I figure it’s time to get down to some business before we just keep right on going and get blind stinking drunk.

“So, Patrik, I’m back in the game after being on a little vacation. That vacation was because of a little something I did for Ambrose. Well, shit, what am I talking about here, huh?” I smile all nice and easy. “You remember it right? You were there in that meeting with the old man. Right across the hall from here.” I motion with a thumb over my shoulder.

“Hey Jerz, whattaya think? It’s me here, okay?” His hands are up, palms towards me. His feelings look hurt. His eyes are all mopey and shit. “What the fuck? You’re acting like there’s some kind of problem here.”

This is when you have to watch Patrik because he’s about as crazy as I am. When he gets all sentimental and acting soft, you gotta watch things. When he’s into the drink pretty heavy, it’s even worse. My Berretta Storm is nice and snug in the shoulder holster and that makes me feel a little better, but not a whole lot.

I light up the last Marlboro and fish another pack out, careful not to open my jacket too far. ”I know, I know. I just ain’t been out for too long. Still wound a little tight, I guess.”

He stares at me and smiles, but the smile is stiff and something just ain’t right. I can’t figure if he’s thinking I’m going to pull something, or he’s the one that’s gonna make a move. I watch his eyes close. The eyes are always where everything happens first. He’s definitely thinking on something.

“I’m just cash strapped right now and I need to see some other people, too. See if I can get whole on some past services. It ain’t just you. I’m back up and full throttle but I need something to get - ”

He holds his hand up and stops me. This time the smile looks better. He turns back to the credenza and unlocks the bottom cabinet.

I’m really watching now. I mean I like the guy and all, always have, but I trust no one. No one.

I see a glimpse of gray metal with a matte finish over his shoulder but he’s blocking most of my vision. He’s all hunched over and I slide my hand inside my leather coat ever so easy.

Then he clacks open the safe he’s been dialing the combination to and I feel like an ass. But I leave my hand hooked on my belt buckle, nice and casual. I’ve seen more guns in safes than money.

Turning around now, Patrik’s holding three neatly banded bundles of money. New bills, crisp bills and they ain’t ones neither.

“Jerzy, you hurt my feelings. You don’t ever have to talk to me like some stranger, like some muscle just coming in cold off the street. You’re fucking family.”

“Hey, I know, I just – “

“I remember it well. We owed you eight or so for the misunderstanding you cleared up with the big Rosyjski. The Russians are such dogs, always have been, always will be. He has never fully recovered, by the way.”

He places one of the three stacks on the desk and slides it over to me.

“Ambrose forgets everything but I remember it all.”

That was bullshit, but hey, I wasn’t lying when I said I needed the money and I was strapped. I wasn’t gonna stand up for the old man now. I look at the money, nod at him and smile, but I make no move for it. I don’t want to look too damn needy. I can actually smell that green, though.

“There’s a bit more than eight there, Jerzy. Not only for helping with that monkey ass Russian but the shit you had to go through in Joliet. Drink?”

“
Tak
.”

When Polacks drink vodka, they speak more Polish. It’s just the way it is. I s’pose it’s that way with all breeds, huh?

As he pours us two more, he looks over at me and smiles. This time I got no warning bells ringing in my head. He’s the old Patrik again.

We clink, we drink.

“Now, even more important, is the biggest thing you ever did for us. You did it on your own, without us really asking, but that doesn’t really matter. It meant everything to us.”

I understand the other two bundles now and whoa, it’s all I can do not to sing along with the bad music thumping away out front.

“Jerzy, this thing you did will never be known to anybody but us but it will surely never be forgotten.”

“The lousy fuck had it coming, Patrik. Believe me, it was my pleasure. Biggest waste of skin I’ve ever known. I never expected nothin’ and still don’t. I considered it a privilege to do it.”

We are both starting to slur a little at this point and damn if it don’t feel good. I got some money again, half drunk and if I’m right about this, just about to be getting a whole lot more money.

“Regardless, I want you to have this.” He slides the other two bundles over.

“Can’t take that.”

“The fuck you can’t.” He smiles a little lopsided and takes another drink.

“Patrik, if Bogdan Skansi was standing right here I’d do it all over again…and I…I would pay
you
.” I laugh loud for effect only. I ain’t that drunk but damn, this is fun.