Killer's Mark (Barone Syndicate #1), page 20
My gut churns. They’re not moving anymore.
I pull up on the sidewalk near a roller rink. The van is not here. Nobody is around, but this is where Gina’s tracking points to.
I grab my phone and jump out of the car. I get dizzy as I worry that I’m going to find Gina’s body, dumped on the side of the road.
But there’s no one here. No body. I find Gina’s phone laying at the edge of the sidewalk, its screen cracked.
They tossed it out the window.
I look around. No sign of the van. The parking lot of the roller rink behind me is busy. Ahead of me is an Office Max and a strip mall.
I get the uneasy feeling of being out of my territory. Out of the part of Philadelphia that I know. The last time I was in this area I was with Raf.
I rush back to my car, tossing the phones onto the passenger seat. I roar up Roosevelt, knowing where I’ll find the van.
“Fucking sloppy Russians,” I fume under my breath.
48
GINA
I can barely move under the weight of the two men pressing me against the floor of the van. The van sways wildly. Probably swerving through traffic.
Eventually, it feels like we’re traveling faster. We must be on the highway now. Nobody says anything. There are at least two guys pinning me down and one driver. I’m not sure if there are more.
Finally, someone speaks in Russian. I can’t understand him but it’s fairly calm. Like a question. Someone else replies with a short response. Then I feel hands groping at my pockets.
They’re going for my phone. I hope to hell Luca is tracking it. That’s probably what they’re thinking, too. I try to press my hips against the van floor, trying to make it hard for them to get into my pockets. If they destroy my phone, Luca won’t be able to follow us. Every second I can delay them is valuable.
My squirming buys me maybe ten more seconds before they overpower me and get the phone out of my pocket. The men say something in Russian again. I feel a rush of air around the van as a window opens and then closes again. They’ve thrown out my phone.
I try not to lose hope. There’s got to be some way I can get out of this. There’s always got to be a way.
The van turns again and again. I can tell we must be on side roads now. Then it stops and I hear the door slide open. I’m hoisted off the van floor and I can feel the ground sliding under my feet. I’m being carried along by my arms, one man on either side of me.
I hear another door open, and the air feels different. I’m back inside a building. It’s humid, heavy with unfamiliar spices. It smells like cooking. I get my feet beneath me and feel smooth floor, like tile.
Nobody’s restraining my feet. I lift my legs, being carried by the two men. Then I kick both legs down and to the right side of me as hard as I can.
I connect with the leg of the man who’s holding my right arm. It trips him up and he falls to the ground, pulling me down with him while the man on my left side stumbles. I hear him groan and swear as I’m stretched between the two men. I also hear metal rattle and dishes break. We’re in a kitchen.
“Skhavatit’ yeye za nogi!” I hear the man on my left yell.
The man holding me on my right gets back up while the third man grabs my legs. The three of them continue carrying me fully restrained. I can feel the man on my right is now limping. I smile to myself underneath the hood.
The men twist me around and place me in a chair. Someone yanks the hood off of my head and my eyes struggle to adjust.
I’m in a restaurant. It’s dimly lit. The curtains across the windows glow orange from the lamplights outside. The sides of the room are lined with booths, overhung with multicolored glass lampshades. Woven rugs hang on the walls above the tables. I’m in a chair in the middle of the room, feeling like I’ve been transported halfway across the world.
The man who pulled my hood off limps back toward the other men. I see that his head is shaven, his face scarred and tattooed. There are two other men, both much bigger than the first guy. They must have been the three in the van.
But staring right at me is one more man. Fat and round. He’s crouching toward me. He must be the one in charge as the others glance at him sideways, watching for any orders.
“Your father is an asshole,” the fat man says to me in a thick accent. I continue to look around the room. They haven’t restrained me, but the two big men behind this guy are pointing guns at me.
“Do you hear me, bitch?” The fat man spits at me.
I don’t answer him, I just glare back.
He straightens up. “Get your phone out. We’re going to call your fucking father.” He gestures for me to get out my phone. “We’re going to make a deal with him.”
“I don’t have my phone,” I pat my pockets showing they’re empty. “They threw it out,” I gesture at the men behind him.
“Fuck,” he replies. He turns to the men behind him and yells, “levaya simka!” He gestures for them to hand him something.
I’m surprised how easily he turns his back to me when I’m unrestrained. I consider attacking him from behind, but one of the big men still has his gun pointed in my direction.
The other big man lowers his gun and pulls a phone out of his pocket. He hands it to the fat man who turns back around to me.
“Call your father,” he demands.
“I don’t know his number,” I shrug.
“Liar!” He yells.
“Why would I memorize a phone number? It’s just stored in my phone!” I lie. The only option I can think of right now is to stall and make this as hard for them as I can.
“Grebanaya suka!” He yells. He turns back to the men. “Get Nicoletti’s number!” He yells to the small scar-faced man. Then he turns to one of the other men. “Verevka. I instrumenty.”
The man with the gun nods and grins at me. He follows the scar-faced man back out of the dining area, toward the kitchen.
The fat man turns back to me. “You want to do it the hard way, we do it the hard way.”
My heart races. I’m afraid to find out what instruments they’re going to bring back.
“Your father,” the fat man turns back to me. “Has been a pain in my ass.” He leans back down to bring us face-to-face. “He will pay. He arrested my men tonight. He cost me a lot of money. But I have his bitch daughter.”
I’m surprised to hear about the arrests. But I’m sure Luca already knows about it. He’s probably the one that tipped off my father in order to distract and weaken the Russians. And he did it to protect me. To try to shut down the Russians so they wouldn’t be able to come after me.
Remembering what Luca has done for me so far somehow makes me believe he can still help me. I know Luca is doing whatever he can right now to find me.
But it doesn’t look like I have much time. This man is going to use me as ransom in some deal with my father. But I know that he also wants revenge and would love to do some harm to me in the process. I’m also not that confident my father will negotiate with the Russians at all. Even for me.
There’s a loud crash from the kitchen. It sounds like a waiter dropped a tray of dishes. The fat man and the man with the gun both look up at the noise. I consider running for it, or trying to wrestle the gun away, but I still don’t like the odds.
“Eto kto?!” the fat man yells. There’s no response.
“Idi postmotri!” The fat man yells at the man with the gun. The man with the gun goes toward the kitchen, with his gun raised.
The fat man turns to me and grabs me around the neck. He pulls me out of the chair with surprising strength. I feel the barrel of a gun pressed against my head.
“Shut up,” he whispers through gritted teeth. I can feel his chest heaving against my back.
I hear a soft “fwwpppt” and then the sound of someone falling.
“Grigor!” He yells. There is no response.
The fat man shuffles me backward a few steps. His breathing growing heavier in my ear. He presses the gun harder against my temple.
Then I hear slow footsteps.
Luca walks out from the kitchen. He’s holding a rifle, pointing it in our direction.
The fat man pulls me in front of him, shielding himself. He points the handgun back at Luca.
“You!” The fat man yells at Luca. “What are you doing here?”
“Let her go,” Luca says.
“This has nothing to do with you!” The fat man yells.
“Her father doesn’t care about her. Let her go and I’ll give you better than Nicoletti,” Luca replies.
The fat man chuckles. “What is better?”
“Let her go, and I’ll give you Mateo Barone.”
The fat man is speechless and confused. “You would give me your boss?”
“I’ve already broken ties with the Italians. If you let her go, I’ll help you overthrow the Barones.”
“You just killed my men!”
“You know those men are replaceable.” Luca explains calmly. “You also know that if you can defeat the Barones, this city is yours. Cormac Dolan was killed tonight. If you can get rid of Mateo Barone, this city is all yours.”
“You would do all this for some girl?” The fat man asks.
“Does it matter?” Luca says. “What do you say? Let her go and we have a deal.”
I can feel the fat man thinking. His breath is almost wheezing with excitement.
Luca stops pointing his gun at us. He can tell the offer is tempting enough to keep the fat man from shooting him. Luca slowly bends down, lowering the gun to the ground. “Just let her go,” he nods.
The fat man shoves me aside. I fall hard to the ground. He then walks toward Luca, gun still pointed at him. He kicks Luca’s gun away to the corner of the dining room.
I’m surprised once more. The fat man has completely turned his back to me. I crawl quietly to my feet. I run at the fat man and leap feet first toward him, driving my foot into the side of his knee.
I can feel his leg crumple under my kick as he screams out. Luca immediately tackles the man backward while twisting the gun out of his hand. It looks like the man’s hand breaks as Luca grabs it from him. Luca pins the man to the ground and brings the gun to the fat man’s chest.
Without hesitation, Luca fires several shots into his body.
The fat man is dead.
Luca climbs off of the man and then helps me up. He wraps me tightly in his arms.
“Are you okay?” He asks.
“I… I’m fine,” I say. “Thank you for finding me.”
“You did great,” he says. “And your piece tonight… it was fucking beautiful.”
Luca kisses me hard, like he thought he might never get to kiss me again.
49
LUCA
I look Gina over, patting down every inch of her until I’m sure she reallyis okay and not injured anywhere.
“What do we do now?” She asks me.
“We’ve got to clean this place up,” I reply. She frowns and looks around. I can see her wondering what that might include. “We’ll blow it up,” I add. Her eyebrows raise. “This is a crime scene,” I continue. “Even if I’m going on the run, it’s better if it’s not so obvious these four guys were shot.”
I head toward the kitchen. Blowing up the restaurant is the quickest way to hide or at least obscure the evidence of what went on here tonight.
I rifle through the kitchen shelves, looking for something I can use.
Gina steps around the bodies and avoids looking at them. “How are we going to do this?” She asks.
“A gas explosion,” I answer. “It’ll look like an accident. I just need some way to make the gas ignite. And ideally when we’re a safe distance away.”
Gina looks around the kitchen. “Were you really going to turn over Mateo?” She asks.
“Only if I really had to. If it kept you safe,” I say. “But I figured between us we could find another way.” I grin at her. She smiles back. When I told Solonik I’d turn over Mateo, I knew it would get his attention. He’s greedy to a fault. I knew I probably wouldn’t have to go through with it. But I would have done anything to protect Gina.
As I look through the cleaning closet, I realize something. “This might be the last big illegal thing I do,” I look at Gina. “Now that I’m retiring.”
“You’re retiring?” She asks. Her eyes light up.
“I kind of have to after tonight.”
“Well,” Gina says, smirking. “I guess you’ll have to go out with a bang.”
I turn back to the closet of cleaning supplies. There are always some kind of sketchy chemicals in industrial kitchens.
“Perfect!” I pull out a plastic bottle of pool cleaner, about the size of a 2 liter of soda.
“Pool shock?” Gina asks as she reads the label. “Why is this here?”
“It’s really just condensed chlorine. People use it to make their own bleach sometimes. It’s cheaper and it lasts longer. Looks like they’ve been mixing their own.” Next to where I found the pool shock, there are a few white bottles with “Bleach” handwritten on them.
“This stuff is explosive?” Gina asks.
“Yeah, when mixed with glycol ether, it’ll heat up and ignite.”
“Where do you get that?” She asks.
“It’s in brake fluid,” I search through some drawers and pull out a turkey baster.
“Did you watch a lot of MacGuyver growing up?” Gina asks as she follows me out the back door to the alleyway.
The van they kidnapped her in is unlocked. I pop the hood on it. “Yeah. And a lot of Mr. Wizard.” I say.
“Both before my time,” Gina replies.
“Plus, you can pretty much find anything on YouTube these days.”
I unscrew the cap on the brake fluid reservoir. I dip in the turkey baster and suck it up full of brake fluid. I put the cap back on and Gina closes the hood.
We head back inside, keeping the back door propped open. I set the baster down on the counter next to the pool cleaner. “Can you grab me a wine glass?” I ask Gina.
While she goes and picks one out, I go over to the stove top. It’s a large industrial range and the gas pipes are easily accessible behind it. I pop the gas hose off the pipe and make sure the valve is open. There’s a sharp hissing noise coming out of the pipe nozzle and I immediately smell something like rotten eggs.
I head back to the counter and Gina hands me the wine glass. “We’ll have about ninety seconds to make a run for it.” Gina nods back to me. “Take my keys. Go to my car in the alley. I want you to start it and then get in the passenger seat and wait for me.” Gina nods again, takes the keys, and heads out back.
I’m hesitant to have us separate even for this minute. But I don’t want to mix these explosives while she’s in here. And the more quickly we’re ready to run, the better.
I open the pool cleaner and get a whiff of chlorine over the rotten egg smell of the gas. I pour about a quarter of a cup of the white granules into the wine glass. I close the container and toss it back in the direction of the cleaning closet.
I pick up the turkey baster of brake fluid and pour in about as much as the pool cleaner. I swirl it together, like it’s some explosive wine I’m about to taste. It mixes, looking like a harmless white liquid.
I toss the turkey baster to the corner and hurry out the back door. I slam the door behind me, trapping the gas so it builds up in the kitchen.
Gina has already turned the car around in the alley and she’s waiting for me in the passenger seat. I jump in, shift into drive, and speed out of the alley. I head back south toward downtown Philadelphia, trying to put as much space between us and the restaurant as possible.
“The two chemicals will react and keep heating up,” I tell Gina. “Eventually they’ll hit a temperature where the vapors of the brake fluid will ignite. Half a wine glass of it will make flames a few feet high. But with the gas leaking in there…” I shake my head and grin as I drive.
I turn right on Roosevelt Blvd. Then we hear it. A loud boom that almost shakes the car. I don’t look back, but Gina does.
“Ho-ly shit,” she breaths. “It looks like it blew the top right off the building.”
“At our next place,” I say. “Let’s just have electric appliances.”
She’s still looking at the smoke rising behind us.
I reach over and place my hand on Gina’s knee. “You’re safe now.”
“What about you?” She asks, turning to look at me. She takes my hand and holds it in hers.
“I’m going to have to leave town.” I can feel my heart rate increase just thinking about it. I’ve got to leave the only place I’ve ever known. Give up the only life I’ve ever lived.
“Well, I’m coming with you,” Gina says. She squeezes my hand.
“Really?” I want her to come with me. More than anything. I can’t imagine leaving her. But I can’t force her to give up everything just because I have to. “You’d leave everything? You’d leave your family?”
“I wouldn’t be leaving everything,” she says. “I’d be with you.” She turns and looks out the window, still holding my hand. “And I’m not leaving my parents. They’ve already left me. What you said back at the restaurant was true. My father doesn’t care about me.”
“I was lying to Solonik. I had to make him doubt his plans.”
Gina shakes her head. “That doesn’t mean you weren’t right.”
“I had set up a bust for the Russians tonight. Your father might have been busy with that,” I say. I doubt Nicoletti was involved in the bust, but maybe he had to be available. Even as I say it, I know it’s a weak excuse.
“I spent the whole night wondering if my parents would come to the showcase. Then doubting if he would even negotiate with the Russians to stop them from torturing me… or worse.” Gina looks straight ahead in front of the car. “I shouldn’t have to wonder if someone is there for me, even if it isn’t life or death.”
“I’d love for you to come with me. If you want to.” I squeeze her hand.
