Chapter 126 127

Chapter 126 127
Carlo

I’m not surprised by the dream. I have closed my eyes many times before only to awaken in that park, sitting helplessly in the boat as the Elephant and his men start firing from the trees. What surprises me is that now, when I look up, it’s Hazel I see. She’s got the butt of a rifle buried in her shoulder and she’s laying down a hailstorm of bullet fire, crack-crack-fucking-crack.

In this dream, she’s the one killing my family.

“Boss, I’m sorry.” Ubert is shaking me awake, leaning down over my bed. His hands are wet. Has he been swimming? Then, groggy, I realize that I am sweating like a pig.

“What is it?” I bark. “Have you forgotten who I am?”

“Decadente is burning,” he says.

I leap to my feet and bound over to the dresser, pulling out fresh clothes. “Bring the car around,” I order. “And Ubert—”

I cut myself short, shaking my head. Ubert offers me an almost shy smile. “I know, boss, it’s been a crazy few weeks.”

After calling Nario and finding out that he’s already on-site, I take a quick shower and get dressed. I try not to think about Hazel. I fail, badly. I settle for telling myself I hate her. I don’t think about the baby.

It’s all too much right now. Two days have passed since the showdown in Sole Nero and every night it’s been the same: Hazel, drumming on the walls of my unconsciousness, making a home in my sleeping mind.

I miss her. I hate her. I love her. She’s dead to me.

Shaking my head, I go out to the car. We’re silent on the ride over. It’s not tense, exactly. But we both know what this means. The Elephant is stepping up his game now that the prince is safe.

Nario is standing in front of the charred ruins of Decadente, his scar shriveled in concern. Durante frowns up at the blackened husk of the building as the firemen put out the last hissing embers. The Albino is busy kicking the holy hell out of a trash can.

“Fucking Irish fucks!” he roars. Then, clang-clang-clang as he kicks the can. “Madonna santa! Uomini morti!”

“How long has he been doing that?” I ask, approaching Nario.

Durante is the one who shrugs. “About ten minutes.”

“Anyone hurt?”

Nario shakes his head. “It was after closing.” He nods up at the sky, no longer pitch-dark, but instead that purplish color when the sun is just about to rise. “It looks like the Elephant—”

“Is stepping up his game. I was thinking the same thing.” I turn to Ubert, who’s hovering behind me. Something has just occurred to me. “You’re posted at Hazel’s apartment. You left to wake me. Who’s there now?”

“Three good men,” he replies. “But I can …”

“Go back. Now.”

He nods shortly. “Yes, boss.”

“Maury!” I call over.

Several of the fire crew are staring at him. His face is drenched in sweat and the bandage on his hand is red with blood. He pauses calmly, as though I’ve just interrupted him during something completely innocuous. “Yes, Carlo?”

“Get over here, you psychopath.”

He smiles. “Sure, Carlo.”

Nario, Durante, Maury, and I move off to the side to discuss strategy.

“We will kill every fucker we get our hands on. We’ll execute them. We’ll make elaborate artwork of their corpses.” The Albino grinds his fist into his wounded hand. “This can’t be allowed to stand.”

Durante nods solidly. “Kill them. Sounds good to me. Sounds nice and simple, too. I hate when a plan gets too complicated.”

I look to Nario. He sucks in breath through his teeth. “It has to be done,” he says.

“Then we’re going hunting tonight,” I say. “Nario, draw up a plan, but be careful not to use any of Benjamin’s intel. They’ve most likely changed everything by now. Call me later today and we’ll go over the details. You two …” I turn to my lieutenants. “Be ready.”

Maury grins sickly. “I’m always ready, Carlo.”

I nod and leave them as a car pulls up for me. This is one of the unspoken conveniences of my life. There’s always a car ready to take me wherever I need to go. As I’m driving back through the city, Mother calls my cell phone.

“Yes?” I answer.

“I spoke to Hazel last night,” she says. She’s been acting testy lately. She seems to think I am being harsh to Colleen Sweeney, the daughter of the man who killed her husband. She has more forgiveness in her heart than me, apparently.

“And?” I say.

“The doctors have confirmed the pregnancy.”

“Did you talk to the doctors, too?”

“Carlo. Be sensible.” She sighs. “Do you think she would lie about this?”

I say nothing.

“Yes, I spoke to the doctors, too. She is pregnant.”

“And you have forgiven her.”

“We do not pick our family. You know this.”

“Maybe we don’t.” My hand is too firm on the phone. I keep thinking about that security footage, Benjamin Sweeney and my woman, the way they looked at each other, like I look at Emily, a bond that can’t be broken no matter how twisted he is. “But we choose when we tell the truth and when we lie. She chose to lie.”

Mother tuts, sighs, and then, after making a noise like she’s about to say something, just hangs up the phone.

I grind my teeth as I turn to the early morning. New York flows past my window. I try not to see Hazel in the shadows between storefronts. I try not to imagine her sitting in front of her easel, paint flecking her cheeks like fresh freckles, her belly bulging under her apron with the life we made together.

I have work to do tonight.

Some jobs are tense, violent affairs. Some jobs are just like in the movies, where there’s always a life on the line, where everything goes wrong.

But the first two jobs of the night are not like that at all.

After going home and organizing everything with Nario, ten bloodthirsty Italians meet at the docks and drive away in two separate vans.

Durante and I head to two bars first. It’s easy. We toss Molotov cocktails through the windows and then watch as the Irish come spilling out, hands on their guns. There are only three at the first bar and we gun them down. The second bar is empty. We watch it burn in the rearview mirror.

Durante nods at me in the van as we head to the laundromat.

“Good?” he grunts.