Vendetta (24 page)

I backtrack, but then the figure is back with a friend and there's no way to get inside without them seeing me. I turn back and look at the fence. If my shoulder wasn't so bad, I could jump it. Too bad I have to do it either way.

I run across the garden until I reach the end. The fence only comes to my chin, but it's still a struggle. I raise my good hand and latch onto the railing, then, applying as little pressure as I can on the other, somehow maneuver myself over it, landing on the other side on my back with a thud.

“Fuck.” Now my whole arm hurts, not just the fucking shoulder.

Why couldn't she fucking shoot somewhere else, like my fingers? Or not at all? All she had to do was tell me she didn't want to come with me, and I would have let her go.

Even as I think it, I know it's not true. I wouldn't have let her go, because I was so focused on just the two of us, thinking it should be enough. I didn't stop to consider that she's still losing her family. Of course she would have fought me. God, I'm such a jerk.

I bring my good arm up and cover my eyes, breathing deeply and trying to calm my pounding heart. Finally, I stand up. It's a fucking effort. I look down and the plaid fabric is stained with crimson, spreading fast.

I trek through the snow-covered ground for I don't know how long, hoping I'm going south. My feet are freezing because I don't have any shoes on. I just need to find a road, and then it should be easy. Emerging between the thick trees, my feet finally hit solid ground. I turn my head from one side to the other, looking for any light source. And then I see it, flashing way further down the gravel road. I look back and the house I left is nowhere in sight.

How long until they realize I'm gone?

I walk slowly down the road, already weakening from the blood loss. Not my brightest idea, this. Finally, I reach the car and the door flies open, and Colin steps out.

“Fuck,” he says, supporting me as we walk to the car. “You look like shit, Devon.”

“Let's just get the fuck out of here.”

He brings me to the back door, and it opens. I groan, seeing Amber in the back. “What the fuck did you bring her for? Do you know how dangerous this is?”

“Trust me, man, you want her here,” is all he says.

I want to argue, but then I remember I'm on a mission, so I shake my head, throw my phone in the bushes by the car, and hop in the back with her. She immediately presses a towel against my shoulder, soaking up the blood. I wince in pain.

“Oh, man up already, that bullet barely grazed you,” she says, biting on her lip and pressing harder. She doesn't sound like Soraya
or
Amber. Quickly, she lifts her hand off my wound and takes off the bandage from my shoulder. This is the first time I've looked at it since I woke up. It looks . . . like it more than just grazed me. I narrow accusing eyes at Amber.

“That was a smart shot. I've seen worse.” She takes my hand and places it over the towel. “Hold that.” Reaching with her arm behind her back, she produces a duffle bag, and takes out a medical kit, looking through it.

“How much do you weigh?”

What the fuck? “How would I know? What do you think you're doing?”

She looks me over, ignoring my question. “How bad would you say the pain is, one to ten?”

“It hurts like a fucking motherfucker, that's how bad it is.”

Her eyes lift to mine, and I realize she's laughing at me, fumbling with a syringe and a small drug vial. My eyes widen, but it's too late to back away. She sticks the needle into my bicep.

“What the fuck did you just give me?”

“Relax, it's just for the pain. It'll take half an hour, but then it should start to ease.”

“I fucking didn’t take any meds on purpose, and you do this? It’ll slow me down.”

“It won’t, it’s not a narcotic. Just calm down, sheesh.”

“Who are you?” I ask in disbelief, looking at Colin in the rearview mirror. He just shakes his head in that
don't even go there
way.

This is
not
the sweet Amber, or the seductress Soraya.

“If you start to feel any abdominal pain or tightness in your chest, you need to tell me straight away,” she says, all business. “You're welcome, by the way.”

“What for?” I ask, confused. She can't mean I should be thankful she just stabbed me with a needle containing God knows what.

“Saving your life.” A
duh
is implied.

“Wha—what?”

“Yeah, if I hadn't been on time the other night, you'd be dead by now. I came to pick up the car. Didn't see that one coming, I have to say. Girl's got balls.”

“Holy fuck, who the hell are you?” I try to sound angry, but I'm really just astounded. Not to mention my shoulder is starting to numb, the pain lesser and lesser, the way she said it would be.

She brings up a badge from her jeans back pocket, and all I can read is FBI before she takes it away.

“A fed,” I say, sounding like an idiot. “How old are you?” For some reason it seems important to know this.

“I'm twenty-six.”

“But you look barely legal.”

“Well, yeah, that's the idea.” And she even says it in her Soraya voice. I'm completely taken aback by the transformation. The woman is
good.

As we drive in silence and the pain eases, my anxiety skyrockets. I shove my phone with the warehouse location at Colin until something dawns on me. “Colin?”

“Yeah, man. I've been undercover for a while.”

For at least two years, if I remember correctly.

“You okay?” Soraya slash Amber slash who-the-fuck-even-knows-her-name asks while putting a new bandage on my shoulder. I don't even realize she's doing it until I look at her, the area already numb.

“Yeah,” I say, finally realizing what I just found out. For fuck's sake, is nothing sacred? We've had the feds around us all this time and no one fucking knew.

“Why are you two here?”

“You called us,” Colin says.

I growl in frustration. “I mean, why are you undercover?”

Colin turns around and looks at me, then back to the road.

“The short version?” Amber asks. “There was a buzz something big was about to happen. It took us a while to figure it out—”

“And a lot of cock-sucking,” Colin adds, flat.

“Shit, St—Colin,” Amber says. “It's not like I had a choice, is it? This is why I fucking don't mix business with pleasure.”

“Are you two Mulder-and-Scullying it?”

They're both silent, confirming my suspicions. I laugh, and it's a scary, out-of-my-mind sound. “This shit just keeps getting better and better.”

“Okay, lover boy,” Amber says, her brown eyes laughing with me, but her voice all serious. “So, the plan was to create one central family. Stevie Romano and George McDougal started it years ago.” She looks at me sadly.

Take down the bosses. I get it. It started with the death of my family. But nothing has happened since, not until recently, with the Potenza’s car bomb, and now Gino Fermi.

“You can see why we had to get involved,” Colin continues. “Controlling several clusters is easier than it is to have one powerful family. You people war between yourselves, and it's hard enough infiltrating you like this, but to have you united—you have a very strong code of honor and loyalty as it is.”

“Yeah, strong, my ass,” I say bitterly.

“There's a new boss in training. We think it's someone they can control and influence, but so far, we’ve no idea who it is.” Amber shrugs. “It goes against everything we know about the mob, which is why it's so dangerous. Your whole hierarchy suits us. This would change everything.”

“What's your name?”

“You know better than to ask that,” she answers, tsk-tsk-tsk-ing.

I lean my head back on the leather seat, closing my eyes. “Well, I'm out. No need to control me, or anything. I'm out.”

“Devon Andre,” Amber says knowingly. “I’ve been watching you for far too long to believe that.” She’s been fucking watching me? Hey eyes meet mine. “It's who you are," she says simply.

The worst part is she's right. There's no way out, even though my father thought there could be. My uncle knows it; I know it. I mull over it for the rest of the drive off the mountain, realizing this could mean a few things. I'm in it for life, whether I like it or not. Even if I leave, I'll always be Devon Andre, the son of Joe Andre, the grandson of Mario Andre, one of the biggest mob names in Boston. But the thing that's really bothering me is that this could mean that there's no way Leighton and I can ever make it work. If I stay here, I'm still Devon Andre, and she's still Leighton Moore. Oil and water.

It is what it is.

“We're here,” Colin says, slowing down the car as we near the Boston harbor just as I’m putting on the shoes Amber gave me. He parks on the side of the road.

I glance outside the car window, my surroundings familiar, but we're not quite there. I touch my newly bandaged shoulder, not feeling any pain yet.

Amber hands me a gun and buttons up my pajama shirt again. It's fucking surreal; I have a fed handing me a gun. She rests her hands on my pecs when she's done.

“Stop that,” I tell her.

She throws her head back and laughs, bringing her hands up in surrender. “The meds will wear off in an hour or so,” she says, looking at her watch.

“That's all I need,” I say.

* * * *

I try to play it out in my head—if I took someone and held them in one of our warehouses, where would I take them?

There's an iron hatch in the office floor leading underground to a big storage area, separated into two. That's where, I decide. I quickly explain to them where it is, and that's where I'm going. They can cover me, or something. Whatever cops or feds do.

Colin shakes his head. “No, man. You're on your own.”

It takes me a beat until I finally nod, understanding. We
are
on different sides of the law. “You're not coming back at all?”

Amber snorts. “In an hour this place will be surrounded by feds. Consider it a gift.”

“What? Why—”

“I think I owe you,” Colin interrupts me. “I wouldn’t have died, but you stood up for me. You're a good man, whether you believe it or not. You've got old-school morals and beliefs. If we're dealing with the mob, we'd rather it's you.”

I don't know if I should be insulted or flattered.

I get out of the car, holding the door open. Amber follows me out, and so does Colin. She leans down and takes out another gun from under her jeans leg, throwing it to me. “Just in case.” She winks, smiling. “Good luck,” she says, saluting me, and closes the door, then walks away.

Colin hands me the keys to the car. “Yeah, man.” That’s all he says, turning around and going after her.

I look down at the keys. “What about you two?” I ask. Colin just raises his hand and waves it. I stare at their retreating silhouettes as they disappear behind the building, thinking—well, I still can’t wrap my head around it. They're fucking feds.

I look up at the sky, the stars still visible, although it's early morning. Then I square my shoulders, and head in to get back the woman I love. Whatever happens, I won't let anyone take her away from me.

I walk slowly inside the warehouse, and immediately spot an armed man outside the office. Only one. Cocky bastards. I approach him quietly, holding the gun Amber gave me in my injured hand, the other one secured at my waist. It's not like I plan on shooting; that would only attract attention. I sneak up on him from behind and dig it into his back, clamping my good hand over his mouth. He tenses under my grasp, but I don’t give him time to react. I pull his head to the side and hear the crack in his neck, then lower his lifeless body to the ground.

The lights are off in the office, making me nervous. I can't see a thing in there. I walk, the sneakers Colin brought me making no sound against the floor. It seems to be clear.

I lift the hatch, and as I suspected, the lights are on down there. I descend the stairs, shifting the gun to my good hand. Again, nobody seems to be around. Did they really think no one would search, or find them here?

I open the door to the bigger storage area, pointing the gun inside. It seems to be empty. Then I hear a voice booming behind the other door, the one to the smaller storage room. Suddenly, the door opens, and I move aside against the wall. That fucker, George, closes it behind him, lighting up a cigarette. I emerge from the shadow, my gun already pointed at him.

He looks taken aback at my appearance, shifting on his feet, then opens his mouth to say something. I shoot, straight between his eyes. There's rustle in the room and then the door flies open one more time, Stevie coming out with a drowsy looking Leighton in front of him.

She smiles at me, a huge gash across her cheek and her left eye all swollen. I don't have the time to feel relieved that she’s at least alive because he has a gun against her temple. Why is she smiling?

“What did you do to her?” I yell.

He leers at me. “What didn't we do to her?” he asks, grinding into her back.

I see red.

I charge at him and he pushes her away and against me. I clench my teeth in pain; all the adrenaline made me forget I have a gunshot wound in my shoulder.

He turns to run away and I raise my gun to shoot him, holding up Leighton with my bad arm.

I was always told shooting someone when they turn their back on you is not an honorable thing to do. In fact, this is what Stevie himself taught me.

Well, fuck honor. This prick has killed my family, manipulated me, and now, he’s done God knows what to the one person I’d kill for at this point.

I shoot him in his left leg, then the other, and he falls down, cursing in pain. He turns around on the floor, his gun pointed at us, and I quickly pull Leighton in the storage room, placing her down to sit. She clutches with her arms around my neck when I try to pull away, so I forcefully unclamp them and leave her sitting there, heading back out.

“No, stay,” she calls for me, a desperate sound that stops me in my tracks.

I come back to her, thinking I'm wasting time but I need to make sure she's okay. I cup her face in my hands. She looks at me, her eyes unfocused, her pupils dilated, and smiles. “Am I dead?”