Chapter 137 139

Chapter 137 139
“Fergal,” I say. “Let’s get this over with. I have your cash.”

If I thought he might honor his word, I wouldn’t need to move to the next step of the plan. But I know that he’ll go back on it, and then I’ll be forced to put it into action. Which will not only put my life at risk, but Hazel’s, too. But her life is already at risk. This man is the devil. And I’m not about to give the devil the chance to make the first move.

“If you’d said to me a few years ago, ‘Fergal, that dago Carlo De Maggio is gonna get a kid on your only daughter.’ Well, what would I’ve said, eh? What could I’ve said? This is the stuff fairy tales are made of. Yet here we are.” He shakes his head, smiling shakily. “Count the cash, you son of a bitch. I want to make sure it’s all there. Count it slow for me. Out loud.”

He rubs his hands together.

“Do you remember how he screamed?” he inquires as I place the briefcase on the floor and lean down to begin counting. An iron rod of tension moves through me. Fergal spots it, sniggers, and goes on. “The big bad don of the De Maggio crime Family, screaming like a coward. You got lucky that day, Carlo. You all did.”

If Hazel wasn’t here, I would leap at him now, even if I figure I’d end up dead. But one look at Hazel and I pause. She’s pale and clearly frightened, but she doesn’t let it show. There’s a gag in her mouth, but she sits up straight, shoulders back, more like a princess on a dais than a prisoner.

I start spreading the cash out on the floor. Then I realize something. This won’t work if I can’t drop a bundle.

I stand up, clicking my back out.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Fergal growls.

“I still get problems from that day,” I whisper, as though ashamed. “That shot you hit me with, it came in at a strange angle. It did some weird stuff to my body. My back hurts, Fergal. I need a table.”

He waves a hand. “Count it on the floor.”

Benjamin gestures at the poker table. “They can drag it over here, Dad. It’s not a big deal.”

He looks irritably at his son. I notice Hazel looking between them. Something has changed in Benjamin, I’m sensing, but I can’t dare hope for his backup. “Fine,” he says. “Get the whining baby a table. What do I care?”

Two Irishmen drag over the table and then resume their places at the edge of the meeting. There are about eight of them in total, all of them armed. I’m guessing there are more outside and guards posted on the roof. That’s what I would do, but then again, I’m not a psychopathic alcoholic.

I start counting the cash on the table. “One million,” I say, making a pile.

“Hmm-mm.” Fergal nods. “That’s right. Colleen here seems to think you two are some sort of couple, Carlo. Is that true?”

“Yes, it’s true,” I tell him.

“Do you love her?”

“That’s none of your business.”

He places his hand on his chest as though offended. “None of my business?” he laughs. “Are you forgetting that I’m her father?”

“I’m not. I think you might have, though—two million.”

With a sigh, Fergal takes out a silver Desert Eagle handgun and walks over to Hazel. She doesn’t make a sound as he places it against the side of her head. She doesn’t stiffen up as though scared. She just looks at me.

“Do you love her? Answer the question or I blow her brains out.”

With anybody else I’d think this was just dramatics. But not with Fergal Sweeney.

“Yes,” I say. “I love her.”

“Wow.” He lowers the gun. “That’s incredible. You really believe that, don’t you?”

“Three million,” I say carefully, spreading the cash out. It’s almost time. I have to count on his pride. I have to count on him being petty. I hope I’m right. I take out the wad of cash, knowing it’s the right one because it’s heavier. I need to prime Fergal. I need to make him angry. “Fergal, can I ask you something?”

He just looks at me and raises an eyebrow.

I heft the cash from hand to hand as casually as I can. “I want to know what it felt like when Hazel’s mom died in childbirth. I want to know what it felt like to watch your wife die in front of you.”

His face drains of color. His eyes narrow. A metal bite enters his voice. “Have you gone completely fucking crazy? You’re surrounded by my men and you ask me a question like that?”

“You have threatened to kill the woman who is carrying my child.” I shrug. “I guess I just want to get myself ready.”

Even Hazel’s looking at me like I’ve lost it, but not Benjamin. As though hypnotized, his eyes follow the cash going from hand to hand.

“How about this?” Fergal hefts the Desert Eagle at me. “How about I put a hole in your neck and we finish this conversation as you bleed out on the floor? Does that sound good? Goddammit, top throwing that fucking wad around—”

“Shit!” I exclaim theatrically, dropping it to the floor. I hope it doesn’t look obvious. It lands at Fergal’s feet. I wave my hand at it the same way entitled men gesture at waiters. “Pick that up, would you?”

Fergal’s pistol is trembling in his grip now. Veins bulge on his neck. “No fucking way. You pick it up, guinea fuck.”

“You know, Fergal, I’m starting to get offended.” I walk around the table. “And that gun is making me uncomfortable.”

“Would you prefer this?” He laughs, pointing it at his daughter again. “Just finish the counting before I lose my patience.” He lowers the gun, watching me intently, enjoying the humiliation of forcing me to pick up the cash. “That’s all you are, De Maggio, just a piece of lowly shit. Your old man was the same. Your little bastard of a brother would’ve been the same, too.”

I reach between the folded bills, my fingers closing around the knife. I would’ve preferred a gun, but even a small one would’ve been too bulky. I would’ve preferred a bigger knife, but this small, sharp scalpel was all that we could hide in the hollowed-out core of the bills.

“What the hell are you—oh, fuck!”

I leap at him with the blade, bringing it to his neck. Blood sprays out.

And then, as they say, all hell breaks loose.

It’s good that the Cartel took the Elephant’s hand. Because when he brings it up in a reflex of protection, he drops his gun. I feel the bullets hitting me in the side: three of them, burrowing deep in my torso, fired by his men. Blood erupts out all over my shirt and soaks it immediately. I feel my head get light but I don’t stop. I lean down, grab his Desert Eagle, and bring it to the Elephant’s head, spinning to use him as a human shield.

And, thank God, Benjamin is helping his sister. He’s dragging her over to the crates on the chair, firing over her head. Another bullet misses Fergal and pierces me in the thigh. I’m bleeding and the world is turning hazy.

I’m shooting, taking two men through the forehead, another in the chest. The recoil of the Desert Eagle almost dislocates my shoulder without my body steady beneath me. I have never been in so much pain in my life. I wonder if this is how Angel and Father felt at the end.