Chapter 56: Chapter Fifty-Six

“So where’s your girl tonight?” Conor asked, sliding yet another stick of gum into his mouth.

Frankie sighed and kept his eyes on the warehouse the Russos were using to transfer their shipment. “With Gen.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, Gen’s apparently gotten a few of the girls together for a ‘girl’s night,’” Frankie informed him, internally cringing at the thought of the last ‘girls night’ he’d witnessed Gen throw.

“Which girls?”

“Fuck if I know,” Frankie said, giving Conor the side eye. “Would you stop twitching? It’s distracting.”

“You told me to be clean tonight.”

“When was the last time you doped up?”

Conor was silent. Frankie finally glanced over and watched the man’s fingers drum on the door.

“Conor?”

“Yesterday.”

Frankie scoffed. “Great. Now you’re detoxing in the middle of a drug transfer. Fucking perfect.” He leaned his head back against the headrest and fought the urge to close his eyes.

He was exhausted. He hadn’t been able to sleep since Gloria’s retelling of the last hour of his brother’s life. He kept putting himself in Stephen’s shoes. Going over and over everything he would have done differently, had he been there. Stephen wasn’t a hardened criminal with a shattered moral compass. He was a good kid. Smart. Inventive. Capable. But he wasn’t ruthless. He wouldn’t have thought about making homemade bombs using the various items in the panic room. He wouldn’t have thought to grab the various guns stashed throughout the house as he forced Gloria upstairs. He had one objective: keep Gloria safe. And that he had done. He’d done it at the cost of his own life and, in some ways, Frankie’s too.

“Russos are here,” Conor observed, sitting up straighter.

“Let’s go have a chat,” Frankie said, stifling a yawn as he clambered out of the sedan.

Frankie and Conor approached the four hulking figures headed toward the warehouse. Their paths intercepted a few feet before the doorway.

“Accardi’s men?” one of the hulkers asked.

“Yeah, who have we got here, MichaelAngelo, Donatello, Raphael and…” A yawn caught in Frankie’s throat and his mouth split wide causing his entire body to shake for a second. “Leonardo?”

The four men glanced at each other before the first spoke up. “This is who he sent to see through our contract? A twitching schizo and a man who’s half asleep?”

Frankie’s eyes narrowed. He pulled his gun from his waistband and shot the fucker in the shin. The man dropped like a rock and screamed in pain. “Hey, I’m in better shape than you. You’re the one who showed up with a bullet wound to the leg. Not very professional.”

One of the other hulks stepped forward and Frankie casually aimed his gun at him. The one at the back grabbed his comrade's shoulder. “I’m Dominic,” the man said. He shook the man he had a hold of. “This is my brother Danny. The man you just shot is our cousin and this is my second, Luciano,” he added with a bob of his head to the man to their right.

“This is Conor, the man you should be thanking for handing his empire over to you bottom feeders. I’m Donati, Accardi’s better half. Let’s get inside where it’s nice and cozy, hm?” Frankie didn’t wait for an answer. He stepped on the leg of the man he’d shot as he went for the door.

“Told you not to open your fucking mouth, didn’t I?” Dominic asked his cousin as he helped him up off the asphalt.

The comment made him smile. He enjoyed the fear his name evoked. He enjoyed the way people couldn’t make eye contact with him. How even a hardened, veteran cop would cross the street to keep from seeing something that might force him to do his job and confront Frankie Donati. The fear had been earned through blood and scars that shown like a neon sign on his skin to anyone passing by. And those who were unlucky enough to have never heard it, were quick to learn… like the man now limping in on his cousin’s shoulder.

Frankie walked toward a crate and leaned back against it. “What’s the plan?”

Dominic’s second chuckled. “You don’t know?”

Frankie’s dark eyes swiveled to him. He had to give him credit, he didn’t balk. He considered for a moment whether injuring half of the Russo entourage was a good idea. “I know exactly what the plan is, Precious. But see, I’ve done this kind of thing hundreds of times while the lot of you have been drowning in two-inch water for decades. This is our family you’re dealing with, our money, our drugs and it’s my job to teach you little ducklings how to swim one paddle at a time. You have only a few months of our help. I’d take every ounce we’re willing to give, if you want my opinion.”

Dominic, clearly the smartest of the bunch and the one clearly set to take over the family when his nightmare of a mother let him, stepped forward. He pointed toward a door leading out to the Hudson. “We have the shipment from Lesser coming in through there. Mixture of cocaine, MDMA and heroin.”

“How much of each?” Frankie asked, taking two cigarettes from his pack and handing one to Conor.

“Uh…” Dominic thought for a second, making Frankie roll his eyes.

“This is your first transfer with Lesser so it won’t be the normal amount. He’s bringing in twenty pounds of coke, twenty-five pounds of MDMA and fifteen pounds of heroin.”

“Right,” Dominic said, brushing himself off. “We’ll take the shipment out and weigh it before paying.”

“Make sure you have the money visible,” Conor added. “Lesser doesn’t know you yet. Doesn’t trust you. He’ll wait to be paid. He won’t screw you. But he doesn’t know if you plan to screw him. Have the money in his eyesight so he doesn’t think you’re just going to kill him and bolt.”

Luciano nodded and walked out of the warehouse, presumably to get the money from the car.

“After payment,” Dominic continued. “We’ll load it up in the SUV and move to a designated alley where three other cars are waiting. We’ll disperse the shipment and then take it through the city to the final spot.”

“Which is…” Frankie prompted.

Dominic smirked. “None of your fucking business.”

“Atta boy, you’re learning. Slow as a fucking mouse without cheese to help him along, but you’re learning,” Frankie commended with a slap to the man’s shoulder.

Luciano came back into the warehouse, holding a briefcase. In the distance, the sound of a boat motor broke the otherwise car-logged ambient noise. Frankie stayed back as the boat pulled into the warehouse and the four Russos approached.

“Go with them,” Frankie said, pushing Conor forward. Conor stumbled a bit, and wiped his sweaty brow while he did as he was told.

Frankie continued to smoke as the Russos and Lesser’s goons unloaded the haul. Conor spoke with Lesser, reminiscing on old times and getting caught up on Conor’s future plans. Everything was going smoothly… but Frankie knew it wouldn’t last for long.

He looked down at his phone and checked the time. No SOS texts from Gloria, which was good. He didn’t want her to worry. He could take whatever they had in store for him, but the thought of how it would distress her unsettled his stomach in a way he wasn’t familiar with. He wasn’t used to having to think of someone else. He hadn’t told her about his plans. She would have snuck into the car and surgically attached herself to his hip. He didn’t doubt she had the skills to pull it off. She would have done anything to make sure he didn’t go into this alone. Conor came back to stand beside him.

“It’s time for you to leave,” Frankie told Conor.

“Huh?”

“Lesser is working with the Phelans. That’s why he keeps looking over at me like he’s afraid I’ll see right through him.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Frankie turned to face Conor. “I’m talking about a hotel rendezvous between Bridgett Phelan and Lesser Williams on Tuesday. I’m talking about the Phelans having an itch to end your entire bloodline and needing some support from a powerful Russian to do so. I’m talking about an ambush that is set to take place in…” Frankie looked down at his phone again. “Five minutes. Get the fuck out of here, Conor.”

“Does Accardi know about this?” he asked, taken aback.

Frankie rolled his eyes. “Do you see him here anywhere?”

“Fuck, Frank, we need to call this off. The Russos will…”

“The Russos have no leverage. Bennett is still tied up in the Box where Accardi is taking his time playing with him. Louis won't let them get to Jada. Besides, the Phelans want nothing to do with the Russos. They know how incompetent the family is. They’ll have driven your family’s wealth and status into the ground by the end of the year. What they’re concerned with is the Galante spawn they’ve yet to eliminate.”

“What the fuck are you going to do?”

“Sergei’s gone underground. Apparently he’s actually afraid of my little vixen,” Frankie said, a proud grin pulling at his lips. “I haven’t been able to track him. Not a single blip. The Phelans will hand me over to him in an attempt to impress. Accardi will find me.”

“If you’re still alive by then. Fuck, Frankie, you can’t be serious.”

Frankie shrugged. “Sergei will keep me alive for at least a week. I may be missing a limb or two but…”

“Do you hear yourself?”

“What if it was Mira?” Frankie asked, pulling out another cigarette.

His question was met with a few beats of silence. “That’s different.”

“How?”

“I met Mira when I was fourteen. She’s the love of my life,” Conor said, exasperated at Frankie’s kamikaze-like plan.

“And?” Frankie asked with a raised brow.

“Fuck, Man.”

“Two minutes. Time to leave. Go to Accardi’s apartment and tell him what you know,” Frankie ordered.

“Frank…”

Frankie’s eyes sliced to him. He lifted his handgun and pressed it to Conor’s forehead. “Leave.”

“You wouldn’t,” Conor challenged.

“Maybe not,” Frankie mumbled, then lowered his gun to Conor’s leg. “Then again, maybe I would.”

In the distance, the sound of a high-speed boat engine roared over the water. Conor’s eyes flicked to the opening behind Lesser and then to the unaware Russos still weighing out their goods. Lesser’s eyes bounced nervously from Conor and Frankie to the water outside.

“Fuck,” Conor growled. “Good luck, Man.”

“Not necessary,” Frankie assured him, stuffing his gun back into his waistband.

Conor turned and hurried from the warehouse. The slamming of the door against the outside wall was punctuated by the first gunshot echoing across the water.