We remove the shelf on the other side of the tunnel and prowl to the door. We’re so close now I can hear them moving around, hear the click of weapons and the tapping of their footsteps. I think about the corpses we passed and gesture to Nario that we’re not taking prisoners. One is enough. We can’t risk it, anyway, not with the disadvantage we’re already at with the numbers.
He nods and gestures back that he’ll take the left. I’ll take the right.
That’s all the conversation that’s required.
We throw the door open and the Irish, too late, spin on us. My first bullet takes the man in the throat, my second slap-bang in the middle of his face. Just as his friend is about to raise his gun, I paint a red hole in the center of his forehead. Nario’s gunshots are louder, making my ears ring.
We walk forward as the men slump, as blood pools, and the smell of dead men fills the air.
“We need to start moving Benjamin every now and then,” I sigh. “All our clubs have cells, right?”
Nario nods, glancing down the hallway just in case. “Yeah.”
“Good, then let’s start tonight. But—”
“Moving him could be just as dangerous. Could be exactly what the Elephant wants.”
“Well, we can’t keep him here,” I mutter. “Maybe just once. Take him to Sole Nero. That’s the most central, surrounded by the most safehouses. We didn’t keep him there before because it would be too obvious, but, shit, that clearly didn’t work. Use decoy cars. Be smart about it. And call a cleanup crew, too. Close down the club for the night.”
I look one more time at the dead men. My conscience gives a twinge even when I know they killed my men, even when I know that most of the Elephant’s soldiers have committed crimes that would make even a hardened Family man cringe.
“What a fucking mess,” Nario and I say at the same time.
We lock eyes, wondering at the absurdity of the situation, of our lives, really, and then walk together down the hallway.
“Don’t think this is going to make me forget that you’ve fallen head over heels for a lady, Carlo.”
I groan, but I’m grinning. It’s always easier to smile after a fight, no matter how many dead. The rush of holy-shit-I’m-alive endorphins is difficult to fight.
“Give it a rest,” I say, punching him on the arm. “Or I’ll put you on the fucking cleanup crew.”
But we get somber when we walk back into the club and see our dead brothers. We exchange a glance, feeling guilty for joking, and with a sigh, Nario walks toward the phone behind the bar.
“I’m sorry,” I tell the men, walking over to their slack-jawed corpses. “I’m so sorry.”
21
Hazel
I have been filled with manic energy all day. I just can’t sit still. During the Skype session with Johnny and Max, they kept asking me if I was drinking too much coffee.
“Too much coffee is no good!” Johnny chirped, and then said something rapid-fire in Korean that made them both laugh.
I told them I was okay, just fine and fricking dandy. I didn’t tell them how I’d learned something last night that had thrown a nuclear-level bomb into my life. Worldview: shattered. Life: complicated. Hazel: restless.
I run for what feels like an age, purposefully avoiding Alda and Emily. If I look at them, I might crumble and start crying again. I think about how this morning when I woke up to Carlo’s presence over me, I kept my eyes closed and just listened to the way he was breathing, feeling his eyes burning into me. Something has changed between us, something big, something important.
I don’t want to ruin it.
After the run and a day spent painting, I go into the garden. Ubert follows me outside. He’s been weird all afternoon, trailing me incessantly, whereas usually he lets me do my own thing unless I’m teaching. And even with teaching, he’s gotten slack. I guess he knows that I’m not a flight risk anymore.
“I hope you’re not planning on coming onto me, Ubert,” I joke as I wander over to the fountain.
The big man’s face gets white. “No, miss!” He seems genuinely outraged. “I just, um, have orders to keep a close watch on you. For your own safety, you understand. Miss, if I’ve given you any sign that I, uh, that my intentions toward you are anything but, ah—”