Awakening the Mobster (14 page)

Chapter 18

Bellissima (bel-e-see-ma): beautiful

Megan:

I wake and find myself in a palace. Creams and golds line the walls with huge moldings and chandeliers. Ornate furniture decorates the room, bigger than my living room in Palmetto.

I turn my head and see Erin. She is lying is a hospital bed in the middle of this strange room. On a cotno higher than coffee table, is Vito, lying on his stomach.

I look down at myself, and I’m wearing a satin nightgown. The movement of my head causes me to cry out. My throat burns and scratches. I feel the skin at my neck, it is sore and inflamed. I move to get up, and my back screams in protest, halting me.

“You shouldn’t get up yet,” a youthful voice says. In the seating area in the middle of the room is a young girl curled up with a book. “Doc Howie says you all need lots of rest.”

She is pixie-like, small with dark hair, bluntly cut, and huge brown eyes. “I’m Clarissa,” she says, coming towards me. “My brother brought you here.”
Her brother?
“Are you hungry?”

I shake my head no. I speak but my voice comes out scratchy. “Where are we?”

“La Bella Regale. My pop owns this casino.” She sits on my bed.

“Carlo’s your brother?” I whisper.

“Yeah,” she says smiling. Clearly, she loves her brother a lot.

“How’s my sister?”

“Doc Howie says it’s gonna take time.” I don’t like the sound of that. At the hospital, they said she would be fine, her vitals are good, that’s he just needs rest.

“He’ll be here soon. He is coming back to check on you.”

“What times is it?”

“Five a.m.”

“The doctor is going to come here
that
early in the morning?”

“He lives here.”

“He lives here?” I question.

“He’s on staff here,” she says, like that’s the most normal thing in the world.
Great, resident doctor...just like Michael Jackson!

“Do you live here?”

“Yup. My Dad and brother too.”

Just then, Vito stirs and sits up. “Shit,” he sighs. He manages a glance around and sees Erin’s hospital bed. He gets up and stands over it, holding on to the bedrail. He checks her out then turns to me.

“Are you okay?” he asks from across the room.

“Yeah.”

We are quiet just staring at each other. Without Vito’s help, I think Uncle Tutti would have accomplished his goal of killing me. I suck in a breath.
Adolfo!

“So did Adolfo work for Uncle Tutti?”

“I guess so,” Vito says.

“He worked for us for the past year,” Clarissa interjects.

Vito sees the young girl perched on the end of my bed. Clarissa blushes and looks down at the blankets,

“Hi,” she says shyly.

“Hi,” Vito says. “You Carlo’s little sister?”

“Yeah.” Clarissa is bright pink through her olive skin. I didn’t think that was possible.

My eyes fill with tears when I think about
Antonio.
W
here is he?

“Vito? Where’s Antonio? Can we call him?”

“Yeah, Red.”

“Carlo tried to call a bunch of times...no answer,” Clarissa states.

“Will he find us here?”

“Don’t worry, Red. I’ll go looking for him.”

Vito walks to the phone on the nightstand and dials. I wait, the anticipation killing me. He shakes his head. “It just goes to voicemail.
Mannegia!
” He slams the receiver down.

A door on the other side of the room, probably the length of a baseball field, opens.

A tall man with glasses comes in. He’s carrying a clipboard.

“Oh, you’re awake. How is everyone feeling?” he asks congenially. Without waiting for a response, he says, “I’m Doctor Marco. But, please, call me Howie.”

Vito steps forward and shakes hands with Doctor Howie. “You’ve got some serious burns young man. I’d like to take another look at them in a little while, if you don’t mind. It’s important to keep an eye on them.”

Vito nods as the doctor comes over to me. He gently lifts my chin, examining my neck. “Nasty,” he says, wrinkling his nose. “Open for me please. Let me take a look at your throat.” He pulls a tiny flashlight out of his pocket. I open my mouth, and he shines the light in.

“You are a very lucky young lady. If that rope dug in anymore, you could have some serious complications.” He shines the light in my eyes, examining me closely. I can smell his breath.

“So far, so good,” he holds my wrist and takes my pulse, counting on his watch. “Good,” he says again.

He pulls a stethoscope out and helps me to sit forward. He puts it on my back and listens for a minute. “Good.” Vito stands over me watching all of this.

“Clarissa? Could you go get me that bottle on the counter over there and a glass of water?”

“Sure,” she says brightly, popping off the bed. She reminds me of my sister.

“What about my sister?” I ask Doctor Howie.

“Well...she’s a different story.”
Ugh, not good.

Chapter 19

Sticazzi (sti-ca-zee): I don’t give a fuck!

Antonio:

Gunfire erupts in another room ,the sound unmistakable. Dino grabs a gun out of his jeans and hobbles behind the crowd of thugs that captured us, rushing to the commotion. We are alone again.

Without hesitation, I bend myself in half, reaching for the hook in the ceiling. I grab it. I shimmy my tied feet off and let them drop. I’m about five or six feet off the ground. I let go, and fall to the filthy cement, landing on my thigh. I sit up and untie my legs, all the while, glad that I stay in shape.

I run over to Patrick. The floor is sticky with butcher-sludge and grime.
How the fuck do I get him down?

“Get the table,” Patrick says, pointing.

A large metal table, the height of a counter, is against the wall. Bits of bone, sinew, and all sizes of knives are on it. As I drag it, it scraps and squeals across the cement making a racket, but it still isn’t as loud as the shoot-out in the other room.

I position it under Patrick and jump up on to it. I grab one of the butcher knives and reach up to cut the rope.

“Ready?” I ask.

“Just do it,” Patrick breathes out, steadying himself to hit the table. Patrick falls onto the table, quite gracefully for a middle-aged guy. He grabs a knife too. Then takes another one and puts it in his pocket. We climb down.

So, two guys, barefoot and shirtless, three knives, against guns and a shit-load more than two people... Not good odds.

Using his knife to point, Patrick motions me to the side of the doorway. I go, and he stands on the other side. He nods, and I poke my head around the corner. Just an industrial style hallway, no windows. I nod, and Patrick moves. We stay low and quickly move towards the mayhem, our knives held high. I check behind us every so often, making sure no one else is coming.

A bullet wizzes by my ear. Both Patrick and I dive to the floor, clutching our knives, and flip over to see where it came from. Running fast is a guy I have to assume works for the Chicago mob or Uncle Tutti. He fires again, and the bullet pings into the wall above our heads.

In seconds, he is on top of us. I don’t give him a chance to aim again. I jump up and kick him square in the chest. He flies back. Patrick moves quickly and is up too. He wastes no time and hammers the guy, sprawled on the floor, in the face with his elbow, crunching bones. Then Patrick jams a knife in his chest. I swipe the fallen gun off the floor. Patrick takes it from me, and shoots the guy in the temple. This whole thing goes down like we have rehearsed it a million times. Our motions are fluid and precise.

We make it to the fray. It’s the storefront of the butcher shop. Large white display cases with the glass blown out are all around the room. Shredded fragments of meat litter the floor and stick to the walls. The front windowpanes are just jagged pieces of hanging glass. Patrick and I crouch down in the doorway, weighing the enemy.

Three people are lying on the tiled floor. I search the faces. None of them are Uncle Tutti. He’s not here.
That spineless son of a bitch! I need answers!
Megan’s beautiful face flashes through my mind.

The gun-fire slows, and I hear a voice yelling from outside. There is no left standing in the room. They’re either gone or dead. The sun is just peaking over the horizon, and soft natural light pours in through the gaping hole in the front windows.

Patrick moves forward to the side of a metal case. He puts his back to it. This place is just a mess of carnage — blood, glass, and soured meat. I put the back of my hand to my nose in a feeble attempt to block the smell.
Fuck! It’s a nod or I won’t soon forget.
My stomach lurches.

I hear my name. Someone outside is talking about me. The voice sounds like Carlo. I slither to the case across from Patrick. A lifeless body is lying next to it, gore coats its shirt. I strain to hear what is going on outside. Patrick is listening too. Muffled voices, only a few words audible, travel through to where we are.

“Carlo!” I call out.

I strain to listen for a response, and a hand grabs my leg. I just react. I jam my knife into the person’s chest. I look at the face. It’s Dino. He has two slugs in his chest and now a knife hole. He is rasping. His breathing is quick like a rabbit. His eyes are wide open, struggling for life. I wrench my knife out, slick with Dino’s blood. His hand wraps around my leg.

Betrayal.
It’s ugly. It is a cavernous wound, seen and unseen. I run my eyes over the bodies again, this time looking for Luigi, he’s not here. He left his son to die.

“Tonio! You in there?” Carlo yells to me.

“Yeah!” I shout back.

“We’re coming in!”

Patrick stretches for a gun lying in a puddle of aftermath, and throws it to me. I tuck myself tighter behind the case, not sure if I can trust Carlo. Dino is lying next to me, sucking in strangled breaths.

Sirens sound in the distance, Patrick and I brace for what’s to come.

“Tonio?” Carlo calls from in the room.

“Drop your weapons!” Patrick says, evenly and demanding. He lifts the gun and locks it on Carlo. He is standing with three other guys I don’t know. They immediately raise their weapons and train them on Patrick.

It’s a stand-off. Who’s the bad guy, who’s the good guy?

“What happened to Megan?”I am peering around to watch him while he talks.

“Fuck, Tonio! Your uncle must have paid off Adolfo.” He kicks a body on the floor.
Adolfo!
“He came into the hospital room...drugged me and, I think, Vito. I tried to hit him, but the stuff knocked me out too fast. I don’t remember anything but the nurses and some security guards trying to wake me up.”

“Where are they?” I ask coldly, but truly apprehensive to know. Everyone is still wary, guns ready. The air is cold with friction.

“They’re at the casino. My pop moved them all there, even your girl’s sister so Doc Howie could look after her.”

I ponder this. I know Uncle Tutti has tranquilizers — he used them on us. I decide to take my chances with Carlo. He was with Megan when this shit went down.

Dino is rasping, and bleeding out from his wounds. If this situation were different, I would call for an ambulance. I’m not sure of the outcome, and my ass is on the line. I know he would kill me if given the chance.

“I’m coming out.” I say. I raise my hands so they can see them. I stand slowly and walk towards Carlo. Patrick is watching every action.

“I’m sorry, dude. He came out of nowhere,” Carlo says remorsefully.

I look him right in the eye to gauge his sincerity...and I see it.

“How are they?” I ask, my guard falling slightly.

“They’re okay.”

Sirens and tires screech to a stop outside. Four police officers flank the storefront, guns drawn. There is a glow of flashing lights in the early morning mist. Carlo turns.

“Stand down,” he demands. The police immediately lower their weapons, and one steps through the broken window.

“Carlo! What is all this?” The officer gapes around the room at the massacre that it’s been transformed into.

“A problem we have to take care of,” Carlo says unemotionally.

I nod. Patrick gets up, unfolding his large frame.

“Come back in an hour,” Patrick says. The officer shakes his head, and the police leave. They don’t arrest or question us. They aren’t even fazed by the bodies lying in their own fluids on the floor. “I need some things,” he says to me. I know what he is referring to. He needs
stuff
to take care of this mess. It’s what he does; it’s what he is good at. “I’m going to see if they have what I need in the back.” Patrick lowers his gun and departs to hunt for
supplies
.

Getting to Megan right now is my only concern. I don’t want to wait, but we need to clear this away before the cops come back. The entire business district is going to be waking up soon, arriving at work, opening stores. I don’t want any trouble for Carlo’s dad. He appears to be our only ally. The casino is an excellent hideout — if I can trust them. That place is floor to ceiling high-tech security. It puts the Pentagon to shame.

Carlo takes out his cell. He dials and hands me the phone. “This is the direct line to their room.” Someone picks up on the second ring.

“Yeah.” a deep gravelly voice answers.

“Vito?!” I proclaim.

“Tonio, holy shit!” he yells into the phone. “Your Uncle fuckin’ attacked us!”

“I know, man. How are the girls?” I am rigid as I wait for his reply.

“They’re good considering how bombaleed this is.”

“I’ll be there soon. I’ve got some new
stuff
to take care of.”

Patrick finds alcohol, tarps, and meat wrapping paper. One of Carlo’s guys follows behind him with a bucket and mop. This fuckin’ frittata conveniently happened at a butcher shop where they clean up animal blood on a regular basis.

“Vito, I gotta go,” I tell him when Patrick gives me a
get-off-the-phone-
look
.