Eve (32 page)

“Okay, daddy,” she sang. “I'll be waiting.” Evelyn ended the call.

Carlo wanted to pump his fist in the air. Evelyn's high-yellow ass had been playing games with him since he met her. He had just about given up on her until he got the phone call. With the thought of fresh pussy in his mind, he had almost forgotten he was even considering it. He was finally going to get his chance to crack for some of what she had tucked between her legs. Carlo had decided that when they made the date, she was going to give it up whether she wanted to or not.

When Carlo pulled up the corner of Ninety-sixth and Amsterdam, Evelyn was already waiting for him. She was tastefully dressed in a black, one-piece pantsuit and black three-quarter-inch mules. The Glock .40 she carried gave her purse an extra sway. Evelyn swept her crimson mane behind her left ear and gave him her warmest smile.

“Damn, you look good,” he said, stepping out to give her a hug. He cupped her ass with both hands. “Ready to go?”

Evelyn smiled. “Sure am.” She looked in the driver's seat and saw Tony behind the wheel. “Where's Steve?”

“He had to go outta town,” Carlo said, holding the back door for her.

She wasn't too worried about killing an extra man. When she had originally put her plan together, she calculated having to take out two targets. Carlo was a coward and Tony was too fat to match her reflexes. When she climbed in and saw Sal sitting in the passenger's seat, she started making adjustments.

As Evelyn sat beside her soon-to-be victim, she could feel the deodorant begin to liquify. She was teetering on the line between vengeance and certain death. Both fear and anticipation made her lightheaded. From that point on, she had to choose her steps wisely or it would all be in vain.

Not only was she faced with killing three men, she had to decide which De Nardi she wanted to kill. She could kill Carlo before they got to the restaurant and make her escape. This was clearly the smarter plan, but Evelyn wanted it to be done with. She would ride into the devil's mouth and exterminate them both. She just hoped that the cards could be on her side for once.

When they got out into traffic, Carlo fired up a blunt of hydro. The pungent odor quickly filled the truck and stung her eyes. When it came around to Evelyn, she took several deep pulls. Her PO violating her was the least of her concerns. If she was gonna go out, she would go out blasted.

The traffic was light, so the ride to the restaurant was a short one. They exited the West Side Highway at Fifty-sixth Street and crossed over to Ninth Avenue. Evelyn expected some five-star restaurant, but Poppa Frank's was anything but that. It was a quaint little eatery that housed several wooden dining tables and a bar. Carlo held the front door for her as she stepped into the place that would serve as the stage for the final battle.

 

Before the car could come to a complete stop, Teddy was hopping out. He instructed Spoon and Vinny to wait while he ran upstairs. He had been trying to reach Felon all day, but got no answer. Normally, it wouldn't have been unusual for Felon to withdraw for a few days, but recent events had made the circumstances anything but normal.

Not bothering with the elevator, Teddy jogged up the four flights of stairs to Felon's apartment. He rang the doorbell but all was silent. He banged on the door but still got no response. His instincts were wailing that something was wrong. Fearing the worst, Teddy used his emergency key.

Felon's apartment was dark and quiet. Teddy searched every room of the house for signs of what might've happened to Felon. Except for some dirty laundry strewn on the bathroom floor, everything seemed to be in order. Teddy had decided to leave the apartment and search elsewhere for his boss. As he passed the kitchen he noticed a sheet of paper taped to the refrigerator. Teddy took the note and began to read.

His eyes watered up as he read the letter again and again. Shit had been crazy, but he never expected this. In the blink of an eye, he had lost both his mentors. He raged and rained punches on the refrigerator until his fists bled. When he had exhausted himself, Teddy slid down to the floor and cried.

 

Carlo led Evelyn into the restaurant where Franko was seated at a table in the back, flanked by his two bodyguards. She drew some stares from the other patrons, but she kept her eyes focused on her prey. Even years later, the girlish fears crept into her mind. She shook off the bloody images of her parents and reined in her composure as they approached the table.

Carlo smiled. “Hey, Pop.”

“I didn't realize we were having guests,” Franko said, casting his icy glare on Evelyn.

“This is a friend of mine,” Carlo said, placing his hand around her waist. “Evelyn, this is my father, Franko De Nardi.”

“Pleased to meet you,” she said, extending her hand. Franko looked at it as if she had just removed it from the toilet.

“You have something for me?” Franko asked, turning his attention back to his son.

“Yeah.” Carlo motioned for Sal to come over. Sal placed a leather briefcase on the table in front of his uncle. “It's all there.”

“I don't doubt that,” Franko said, never bothering to touch the case. He and Carlo were making small talk, but his eyes kept going back to Evelyn. She was beautiful, even for a black girl, but that wasn't it. Something about her seemed familiar. “Evelyn, don't I know you from somewhere?”

“Nah, you don't know her, Dad,” Carlo said.

“Actually we have met.” She smiled. “I was a little girl at the time, but you probably remember my father, Joe-Joe Panelli.”

Franko stopped chewing his food and searched his mind. The name did ring a bell in his head, but he couldn't place it. Suddenly he recalled the man and his family he had been sent to kill all those years ago. By the time it dawned on him, she had already snatched one of the steak knives from the table.

 

Tony stood outside Poppa Frank's, smoking a cigarette. He could think of a million other things he'd rather be doing than watching Carlo's back. It was a beautiful night and he was anxious to hit the club and do some drinking. A figure stepped from the darkness to his left. Tony went for his gun, but eased up when he recognized who it was.

“What's up, Felon?” he asked with a smile.

Felon returned his smile, then hit him with both barrels of Butter's shotgun.

 

Carlo shrieked as Evelyn caught him with an elbow to the nose. He tried to swing, but she countered and dazed him with a left hook. When the first bodyguard tried to get up, she plunged the knife into his cheek. The man clutched at the utensil, but the blood squirting from the wound made it hard to grip. He fell backward, knocking Franko to the floor.

Evelyn had managed to retrieve her pistol from her purse when Sal put her in a choke hold. She tried to knock him off but lost her footing in a puddle of blood. The momentum caused Sal to release her or risk falling himself, but it also put her on her back and her gun under a table. As she looked up at the faces of her enemies, all hope fled.

She knew there was a possibility of the hit going wrong, but in the wake of her impending death it became very real. She had come so close to avenging her loved ones only to fail. Just as Sal was reaching for her, the front doors to the restaurant exploded.

 

Felon stepped through the shattered glass doors, holding the smoking shotgun. Blood coated his face, and murder lurked in his eyes. Sal turned from Eve to the new threat, but he was too late. A hail of buckshot hit him in the back and sent him skidding across the floor.

Carlo tried to make a run for it, but Eve tripped him up. He tried to scramble away, but the floor was slick with blood and food. Eve managed to grab hold of his hair and yanked him back, then gave him a sharp knee to the ribs and flipped him over on his back. She channeled all of her rage and hurt into her fist as she bashed his face bloody.

By now, the second bodyguard had managed to draw his gun and opened fire on the man wielding the shotgun. Innocent diners took stray bullets and buckshots trying to get clear of the gunfight. Felon dove for cover behind the table that was closest to the kitchen entrance where he crouched and reloaded the gun for another attack.

He cursed silently for underestimating Eve. He not expected her to be in the restaurant when he made his hit. He thought that if he moved quickly, he could have it out with Carlo before she put the last phase of her plan into motion. Now she was smack dead in the middle of the bullshit he was trying to protect her from. What had begun as a suicide mission had turned into a rescue.

Felon prepared for his next assault. Eve had Carlo tied up, so all he had to worry about was Franko and the remaining bodyguard. Just as he stood to let off a blast, pain shot through his back. Felon's left arm instantly went numb, causing him to loose his grip on the shotgun. He turned around and found himself confronted with the waiter holding a bloody kitchen knife.

 

Carlo lay on the floor almost unconscious from Eve's beating. She spared a glance over her shoulder to see how Felon was faring. Of all the scenarios Eve had played out in her mind, Felon bursting through the doors like some wild cowboy wasn't one of them. She didn't know whether to kiss him for saving her or kick his ass for crashing her party.

Felon found himself in a bad way. On one side of him was the bodyguard trying to get a bead with his pistol, and on the other the waiter slashed at him with the kitchen knife. He fended the blows off as best he could, but his useless left arm made it difficult. He had to gain the advantage so he could help Eve.

The waiter lunged at Felon, giving him the advantage he needed. He stepped to the side and flipped his shotgun around. Using the rifle like a club, he brought it around and bashed in the back of the waiter's skull. The man crumbled at his feet and blood pooled out around his body. Felon dropped the shotgun and pulled his nine from his waistband. He turned around just in time to see the muzzle flash of the bodyguard's gun.

 

“Noooooo!” Eve shrieked. The bullet struck Felon in the chest and sent him crashing into a table. He tried to get up but didn't have the strength. He lay on the floor gasping, but he was still alive. The bodyguard advanced on him with the intention of finishing the job.

Eve couldn't allow it. She had lost everyone else she cared about to the mob and she refused to let them add Felon to that number. Completely forgetting about Carlo, she got to her feet and rushed to help Felon. She had only made it a few feet when a mammoth hand grabbed her by the hair.

“You fucking bitch!” Franko snarled. “I thought I had killed you with your nigger-loving father, but I guess you survived. It doesn't matter though. I'm gonna finish the job today.” Franko slammed his fist into Eve's face, breaking her nose. She almost blacked out, but the pain of his holding her up by the hair wouldn't let her. Franko rained blows onto her face, sending blood and spit flying everywhere.

As much pain as she was in, all she could think about was the bodyguard who was now leaning down to slit Felon's throat. Franko tossed her around like a rag doll, kicking her viciously every time she tried to go down. Eve's vision lost and regained focus at least a dozen times during the beating. She saw Franko pull a small handgun from his pocket, but didn't have the strength to do anything about it. At least if she had to die, it would be with Felon.

Felon lay on the floor, fighting to stay conscious. He had lost all feeling in his arm, but his chest burned terribly. He managed to move his head enough to see Franko beating the hell out of Eve. He tried to call out to her, but he had no voice. He knew she was going to die, but there was nothing he could do about it. As his eyes closed on the bodyguard approaching him, all he could do was hope that he died first so he wouldn't have to watch her suffer.

The bodyguard approached Felon with a hard look on his face. Slowly he unsheathed a butterfly knife and flicked the blade out. He smiled triumphantly as he leaned in to finish Felon off. Suddenly he paused to investigate a humming sound coming from the doorway.

Uncle Bobby's wheelchair came rumbling over the broken glass that was once the entrance of Poppa Frank's. The bodyguard tried to raise his pistol in defense, but he was a little too slow. He managed to get a shot off, but not before Bobby speared him with the bayonet that was attached to the end of his army-issue machine gun. A wicked grin crossed his face as the man shook once, then died.