Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Two

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty-Two
Frankie was running down the hallway, the double staircase in sight, when he heard her scream his name: a blood-curdling sound that promised disaster. Then the first explosion hit. Frankie didn’t stop; he didn’t waste precious time. He had to get to her. He rounded the corner, gripped the edge of the railing, and was hauling himself upward when something knocked him in the side. Frankie hit the ground, and a moment later, a large marble pillar cracked against the spot he’d just been standing.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Accardi yelled, pulling him to his feet.

Accardi gripped the back of Frankie’s neck and propelled him toward the dining room. Frankie whirled around and shoved him in the chest.

“Gloria is upstairs!”

“And how do you plan to get to her, huh?” Accardi yelled, shoving him right back.

Frankie looked at the stairs he had just tried to climb, only to find that the pillar had demolished them. He would have to make a twelve-foot vertical leap to reach the next step.

“I can jump that far!” Frankie said, walking toward it.

“Cover!” Leo yelled, running up from the basement steps.

Accardi knocked Frankie down as a volley of shots rang out in the foyer, followed by an explosion in the stairwell Leo had just come from.

“Move, move, move!” Leo ordered, picking both men up by their collars and dragging them toward the dining room.

Frankie’s feet stumbled beneath him as he tried to make sense of the situation. Leo flung both men into the dining room and yelled for Conor to shut the doors. Bullets ricocheted against the wood, threatening to splinter it as Sergei’s men arrived in droves.

“What the fuck?!” Raphael shouted, standing by the large dining table, shoving magazines into automatic rifles.

“They came up from the fucking ground!” Leo yelled as though the explosion had blown his eardrums.

Frankie noticed blood draining from Leo’s left ear and cursed. “There are tunnels beneath the house,” he confirmed. “Sergei is here and apparently already rigged the fucking house with explosives.”

“Gloria?” Leo asked.

Frankie shrugged and pointed upward. Leo followed his finger and cursed with a shake of his head at the way the floor was cracked, and the ceiling tiles were missing. Bullets broke through the door and whizzed past the men, who ducked their heads.

“Get the table!” Accardi yelled, pushing weapons into men’s arms so as to clear the heavy stone that would make the perfect shield. He pulled a box from his pocket, opened it, and took out the small earpiece he’d stowed inside. He shoved it in his ear and started barking orders to the men outside while he grabbed a rifle of his own and racked the slide. “Dining room, east side of the house, front windows. Get men in here. Enemy men are engaged with us in the foyer. I want word that my snipers are in place. No one leaves this compound. I want it locked down. Find out where they’re coming from, and I want all of our attention focused on that spot. Blow it to fucking kingdom come!”

Leo, Conor, and Frankie grunted as the three of them tipped over the table, and it crashed to its side. They shoved their shoulders against it like they were football players tackling push sleds in practice and pedaled their legs to move it across the floor toward the dining room opening. A minute later, Palladino, Accardi, and Raphael joined them there. They all ducked down, their backs pressed to the table as they readied their weapons. Accardi handed over Frankie’s baby, Tracy, which he’d packed specially for the trip. He gave her a kiss for luck and set her aside, knowing he’d need numbers over power until they could develop a strong hold.

Alessio hung up his phone and gave a nod. “My men are moving in from the west. There are reports that there is a second tunnel entrance in the garage, so they’ll be moving in from the south and north, funneling into our location.”

“Fuck,” Conor said, banging his head back against the table. He lifted his head again. “Wait, how are we supposed to know Gloria’s men from Sergei’s?”

All the men looked to Frankie as he counted his ammunition. He scoffed in disbelief. “How the fuck am I supposed to know? The ‘welcome brunch’ was scheduled for tomorrow. If they shoot at you, kill them first. We’ll sort out allegiances after,” he mocked as he loaded a magazine into the rifle he’d chosen.

The door above their heads blew past them as Sergei’s men used some kind of artillery equipment to finish it off. Accardi’s men started flooding in through the windows, ready to build up their stronghold. A couple stationed themselves at each window, already engaged in open fire. Thomas, Don, and Juliano sprinted across the floor and landed beside Accardi, breathing heavily.

“Cops have set up a blockade about half a mile out,” Thomas relayed.

“Our cops?” Accardi asked.

Thomas only shook his head, too out of breath.

“Our snipers are falling into place,” Don added. “They’re trying to take people out as they pop up, but…” He shook his head just like Thomas. “They’re like fucking cockroaches, Boss. They’re fucking everywhere, and the entrances are inside, so unless we can blow holes in the side of the house, there’s no way to seal them up.”

“Plan?” Leo asked, closing his eyes, readying himself for what was to come.

Accardi clicked his tongue and pulled a tissue from his pocket. He wound it up and forced it in Leo’s bleeding ear. “No plan, just shoot. Keep shooting til they’re all fucking dead.”

“What’s the signal?” Palladino asked, making the holy cross over his chest and kissing the pendant he kept hidden under his shirt.

There was a loud thunk above their heads. A moment later, a man flew over them. He pivoted around, rifle brandished. All nine of the men opened fire at once, killing him before he could put a finger on the trigger.

“Good as any,” Frankie remarked.

With a primal yell, Frankie stuck his head over the table, propped his rifle against the stone, and opened fire. At the same time, the other men joined him, and Sergei’s men started dropping one after the other. Every few minutes, one of them would duck back down to reload. Conor threw something over his head into the foyer.

An explosion blasted through the room, killing five men at once. A fucking grenade. The man had brought grenades. Frankie noticed Palladino give him a fist bump with a grin stretching from ear to ear. Frankie returned his attention to the men coming at them. There were so many. Sergei had a fucking army, no exaggeration. There were not enough on Frankie's side. Sergei would beat them out by sheer numbers alone. Frankie looked to his left, where Accardi always stood. He grabbed him by the sleeve of his shirt and pulled him down.

Both men were desperately dragging air into their lungs. They hadn’t experienced this massive of an onslaught… ever.

“This isn’t going to work,” both said at the same time. Accardi rolled his eyes, and Frankie punched him in the shoulder.

“That was cute of us,” Frankie said with a smile. “But seriously. We need to get to the tunnel openings, or this is all for nothing. They’ll just keep coming.”

Accardi nodded along as he spoke. He looked to his right and yanked Palladino down by his belt.

“What? Taking a break for tea?” Palladino asked, using the valuable time to reload.

“How many more of those grenades you got?” Accardi asked.

Palladino showcased that same big grin and held up two belts full of them. Accardi pursed his lips and shrugged. “That’ll do.”

“So, one entrance in the basement, past those fuckers,” Frankie commented with a bob of his head toward the foyer.

“And one in the garage, through that door which we have no idea what we’ll be facing,” Accardi surmised.

Both men nodded at each other. Frankie held out his fist and placed it on his flattened palm.

“You’re joking,” Accardi said, his face stone.

“You got any straws?” Frankie asked.

“Ah, fuck it,” Accardi said, mimicking how Frankie held his hands out. “Winner takes the garage cause it can’t be as bad as what’s out there.”

Both men smacked their fists against their palms three times, then on the fourth, they each held out the sign for scissors.

“You’re so predictable, man,” Frankie said with a laugh.

“Come the fuck on, we don’t have time.”

They repeated the moves, and this time they both came up with rock.

“Third time's the charm,” Frankie joked.

Again, they played their child’s game. On this round, Frankie showed paper while Accardi showed scissors.

“Like I said,” Frankie said with a smile. “Predictable.”

“Yeah, right, act like you let me win,” Accardi said.

“Let’s do this. Stay alive, kay? I really don’t want to have to raise your brat. But, I do think Gloria, Gen, and I would make a nice throuple,” Frankie said, his laugh shaking slightly as he tied the grenades around his chest.

“Hey,” Accardi said as he did the same. When they were both done, Accardi grabbed Frankie by the shoulders in a tight embrace. He pounded once on his back. “Don’t fucking die on me. That’s a fucking order.”

“You’re not my boss anymore,” Frankie said, trying and failing to choke out a laugh as he hugged his friend back just as tightly.

“Maybe not,” he pulled back. “But you’re sure as fuck the closest thing I have to a brother, and that means I can tell you what the fuck to do.”

Frankie clasped Matteo by the back of the head and pressed their foreheads together.

“Fine then. I won’t die, cause I want to hold what you just said over your head for a few years.”

Accardi shoved him off. He didn’t look back as he moved in a crouch behind the table that was still taking a massive amount of gunfire. He tugged on Don’s shirt, and Don swiveled down, gun aimed at the mafia boss’s head. Accardi held his hands out in a gesture that screamed ‘are you fucking serious?’ before pulling him all the way down so he could yell in his ear to follow him. Cheater, they didn’t say anything about taking backup. Frankie threw Tracy’s strap over his body, knowing he would need her support if he was going to make it through this alive.

“So, where we going?” Conor asked, making Frankie jump. The young man’s face was serious, his rifle held firmly against his chest like a dutiful soldier.

“I’m going to knock out the tunnel entrance in the basement. You’re staying right here and are staying alive, ‘kay, pumpkin?” Frankie said, patting him on the shoulder. Frankie got down on his hands and knees and started to crawl past.

Conor pulled at Frankie’s grenade belt, and Frankie sighed.

“I got no one, alright?” Conor said. “I got no family, no girl. You got all of those things and more. I will not let you go this alone, alright? Just cause I’m young and spry, and you’re a crusty old fossil…”

“Alright, alright,” Frankie said, relenting, knowing their arguing was just stalling.

“Cool, what’s the plan?”

“Out these windows, to the windows in the sitting room on the other side of the foyer, wade through the chaos, working our way back to the basement,” Frankie said, back in his crawling position.

He made it to the front windows and patted the two Accardi men. They looked down and squatted so he could relay that they needed to cover for him. They both nodded, and popped back up. The man on the right yelled to the next window, who then communicated to his partner, who then relayed the command to the next window. Within a few seconds, every man at the windows was ready to unleash hell in the form of as many bullets as possible, while Frankie and Conor made their way to the windows opposite the front door. Frankie pulled Tracy to his chest and, for once in his miserable life, closed his eyes and prayed.

God… It’s me… Frankie Donati… I know I should probably be talking to your son. You know, the one I’ll most likely be meeting other than you when I die? But this isn’t for me. It’s for a girl. A crazy, beautiful, wonderful girl who needs me. Take me when you want. I’m ready for that. But, please, for the love of… well… you, just let me do this one last thing. Let me save her this one last time. Then, then you can do with me what you will. Thanks, uh, thank you, uh, grazie? Spasibo? Shkran lak? Oh, right, amen. That’s the one. Amen, uh, Sir, uh, ma’am…

“Frankie, what the fuck? You ready?”

“Oh, yeah, right, yes, let’s go!” Frankie yelled.

“Fire!” the man at the window yelled.

“Fire!” “Fire!” “Fire!” each preceding window echoed.

“Go!” Frankie shouted, pulling Conor by the sleeve as they jumped through the window together.