The Kill (3 page)

The peace accord had been handed to him on a platter, he realized. Now, with all three crime bosses dead, and many Gambino family member’s bodies strewn about, their seconds would be named. Vincenzo’s father, and by extension, himself, would garner the respect due to an original family. The fact that Vincenzo would walk away from this carnage was enough to make him a hero. His name would go down in the mafia history books for years come.

Yeah, as long as there’s no asshole only half-dead, a gun in his hand, waiting for me to walk by.

He looked out and scanned the territory surrounding the hangar. Nothing moved.

“Okay, I surrender,” he shouted, in case anyone was alive to hear him. “I’m coming out.”

Vincenzo stepped into the open, his hands raised.

Two feet from the door and no one had taken a shot at him. No one popped a head up or said anything. He took a few more steps. Still nothing.

His stomach couldn’t handle the tension. At any moment, he was convinced that someone was going to sit up, like a fucking Jack-in-the-box, and fire a round into his eye.

But no one did.

The moon sat high, the fire crackled to his left, the insects of the night remained quiet, and no one shot at him.

Amazing. Fucking amazing.

He walked farther, feeling more secure. His Cadillac was shot up pretty bad. It was also boxed in by two of Gambino’s vehicles, one of which was the van on fire.

A police siren wailed in the distance.

Gotta get the fuck out.

Not a single vehicle was available to use. They were either on fire or shot to shit. He knew he had to hustle. In minutes, the area would be littered with cops, and dogs would search every square inch. At least a ten-mile radius would be shut down.

He looked up at the sound of a car approaching. Not a cop car. No flashing lights. He walked up to the shoulder of the road. The car was coming fast, but slowed as it approached the flames. A Ford Mustang with the interior light on.

That’s weird. Why’s the interior light on?

When the Mustang was fifty paces out, Vincenzo stepped from hiding and, with his legs spread, aimed the gun two-handed at the driver of the vehicle.

It didn’t slow. In fact, in the last few seconds before the vehicle was upon Vincenzo, it sped up.

Vincenzo fired a bullet into the windshield as a warning.

“Pull over,” he shouted. “I need your car.”

Vincenzo didn’t have time to jump. He’d waited too long. He’d just walked out of a hangar full of dead men, surrounded by dead men, the only survivor. Surely a car would stop for him, or at least veer away from an invincible mafia leader. When he shot a warning at the vehicle, he thought for sure the driver would lose control. All it caused the driver to do was hit the gas pedal.

The Mustang hit Vincenzo at the knees, knocking him onto the hood of the car at forty-five miles per hour. Vincenzo rolled up and smashed into the windshield, and then tumbled over the car, clearing the trunk on his way to the ground.

The driver slammed on his brakes and pulled to a stop on the side of the road.

The pain was intense and all-encompassing. He lay at an odd angle. His hips weren’t meant to twist that way. Only his right eye still worked. In his peripheral vision, the back of his left foot rested near his shoulder.

He couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. He lay there, breathing slower and slower.

A young man ran up and stood over him.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you. I was watching the fire over there. Then something hit my windshield. I panicked and then you jumped in front of my … Oh, man, I’m in so much trouble. I’m sorry, mister. I’ll call an ambulance.”

The young man moved away from Vincenzo’s vision, crying, whispering crazy things. Then he was talking on his phone to someone.

“Rosina, it’s Darwin. I’m sorry. I couldn’t see him in the dark, honey” he paused, then, “I don’t have to call the cops … I see a ton of them coming now. I’m sorry, Rosina. I’ll call you when this is over.”

The man didn’t hang up. He sounded angry
and
distraught. The guy asked whoever he was talking to how things could get messed up so bad, and what would her parents think of him since they’re engaged.

Hey kid, I’m dying here. Can you worry about your fiancée and her parents later? Call a fucking ambulance.

Vincenzo closed his one good eye. He was tired. Breathing became a serious chore. He fell asleep. The blood oozing out of all his open wounds stopped flowing.

His heart had stopped.

Chapter 1

Darwin handed the key to the man at the desk. He took a good look around the room for anyone watching them in any way beyond normal suspicion, but the small lobby was deserted. It was only his new wife, Rosina, himself, and the clerk, who didn’t look suspect.

“How was your stay?” the clerk asked in his accented English.

“Great,” Rosina answered him. “We had a fabulous time in Rome. Loved the Coliseum. Thanks.”

Darwin grabbed his backpack, slipped both arms through the straps, and grabbed their one suitcase.

“Let’s go, hun. We don’t want to miss the bus to the airport.”

She shot him a glance that said
don’t rush me.
He raised his eyebrows and smiled.

No problem, I won’t rush you, just hurry up.

They said goodbye and promised to return, then made their way down the stairs and out of Hotel Luigi. It was a block to where the bus was to take them to Fiumicino Airport where they were flying to Athens, Greece, to continue their honeymoon.

Darwin surveyed the area, scanning the faces of everyone who was too close for comfort. They were too exposed. Darwin hated having his wife this exposed. He watched his back, paid attention to the street ahead and waited for the sky to fall. At any moment they could be attacked.

He knew it. His wife didn’t.

He thought about telling her, but hadn’t been able to bring himself to quite yet. It was their honeymoon after all. He didn’t want to ruin it for her. He would come clean on the plane ride back to Toronto. That would give him a chance to give her all the details about the death threats, the two attempts on his life, and the new way they were going to have to live. She wouldn’t be able to run away from him when he explained everything, as they’d be stuck on a plane together. She wouldn’t be able to yell at him or hit him on a plane either. He’d remind her about air rage laws.

It wasn’t really his fault, though. Fate did this. But now he had to live with it. Or die for it.

They made it to the bus stop unscathed. The bus pulled up moments later. Darwin placed their luggage piece in the compartment under the bus and handed their tickets to the driver. Other people were dumping their luggage in too and scampering onto the bus. After a long line, Rosina walked on.

Darwin waited until it looked like no one else was coming, then took one more look around. As he started to step on, something stopped him. Two well-dressed men had just exited Rome’s Termini train station. Both of them talked on cell phones. One pointed at Darwin.

Darwin leapt up the bus stairs. The driver shut the door behind him.

“How long before we go?” Darwin asked.

“Right now,” the driver answered. “You were the last passenger.”

He turned and started down the aisle, looking for Rosina. He saw her halfway down, near the middle exit door. The bus pulled away from the curb. Just as he went to sit down, one of the two men had made it to the side of the bus.

The man jumped up and banged on the window beside Rosina, who leaned away from the glass.

“Wow, crazy people. They really should try to get here on time.”

“Yeah,” Darwin agreed. “Insane.”

His stomach clenched. That was too close. One minute either way, and they would’ve been kidnapped or dead. He had to do something more proactive. He had to fix the situation.

That’s what going to the airport is. I’m being proactive. I’m taking my wife on another plane ride so it’ll take them that much longer to find us again.

He slowly shook his head. They’d never go away. That was just it. This kind of men was too powerful. When they put you in their sights, there really was no negotiating with them. It was over and there was nothing anyone could do about it.

“You okay?” Rosina asked. “You look white.”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he said. “Continental breakfast didn’t really sit well with me.”

“
I’m
feeling fine, so I doubt it was the food. Could it be your fear of flying?”

Darwin looked at her, his head still bowed. “No. Really, I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”

She leaned closer and snuck an arm inside his. “But you’re my husband now and I love you. Tell me what’s bothering you so I can take it all away.”

I wish it were that simple.

“It’s nothing, really. I’ll be fine once we’re on that plane to Athens. This is going to be awesome. I cannot wait to see the Acropolis.”

“Me too,” Rosina said as she looked out the window and took in Rome’s downtown.

On a couple of wide turns, Darwin looked over his shoulder to see if he could spot anyone following them. As far as he could tell, no two cars behind the bus stayed there too long.

Within twenty minutes, the bus went up a ramp and merged onto a highway. They said the ride from Termini Station was an hour to Fiumicino airport. Darwin settled back, closed his eyes and prayed. All they had to do was get to the airport, check in and get past security. Once that was accomplished, they would be in the clear. The men hunting him wouldn’t get through security with a gun. They’d also have to buy airline tickets and try to get through security in time to find them before they boarded their flight. Tall order, even for those assholes.

Bumps in the highway woke him. He’d almost fallen asleep, the stress of the last few days piling up.

That was why he chose Hotel Luigi. They accepted cash. Sure the hotel staff took their passports and wrote information down, but that information wasn’t readily handed in to the Italian officials in a timely fashion. That meant Darwin and his wife would have a few days in Rome before they were detected.

The same for Athens. He had a nice hotel picked out that offered the same kind of anonymity.

As long as they were still alive to board the plane.

Rosina had nodded off beside him. At the front of the bus, a red digital clock told him they were fifteen minutes away.

He looked out the window as a late model Crown Vic raced by the bus on his side. A moment later, another one did. He watched as both vehicles lined up in front of the bus. Then they started to slow down, slowing the bus too.

No, no, no. They can’t do this. Not in public. Not like this.

He’d almost got his wife to safety. He’d almost done it.

Instead of feeling defeated, he had to think. What could he do? He had no weapon. He had no way to escape. Open fields were on both sides of the bus, which had slowed down to half its speed. The bus driver hit his horn and shouted something in Italian. The two Crown Victorias drove side by side, blocking all exits for the bus and the traffic piling up behind them.

The speed couldn’t be any more than twenty miles per hour now. The bus jerked with the brake pedal, turning left and right, in a futile attempt to get around the two vehicles. Passengers were getting anxious. They had planes to catch. One man stood up in the aisle and shouted in Italian.

Rosina woke and lifted her head. “What’s going on?” she asked.

It startled Darwin. He turned to her. “Looks like a couple of idiots playing a game on the highway. They’re blocking the bus, not leaving us a chance to get around them.”

Rosina leaned forward. “Assholes. That’s ridiculous. Look at them, acting like children. People have planes to catch.”

“Exactly.”

The bus came to a complete stop. The driver spoke on his phone.

Then a siren in the distance.

Awesome!

A moment later, a police cruiser raced by their window just as both Crown Victoria’s driver’s-side doors opened. Darwin stood and looked out the front window at four men as they stood on the highway beside their car, all dressed in suits, staring at the bus, two of them with their hands up to ward off the glare from the sun.

Two police officers jumped from their cars and yelled something. Horns blared behind the bus, and yet none of the four men moved. They just stood there, staring.

One of the men lifted his hand and made the symbol of a gun. He dropped his thumb and lifted his finger as if it recoiled. The man opened his mouth to make a
swoosh
sound.