Mobster's Bones (Mobster #5) (7 page)

I think I’ve said the word “shit” more in these past two weeks than in my whole life!
Zing
and another bullet pelts the car we’re hiding behind.

“Stay down,” I instruct her. I keep my hands on her shoulders as she is slumped against the chassis. “You’ve got this, Alessandra!” I coax.

I hope the person who owns this Escalade has good insurance because bullets are slicing through the metal, turning it into Swiss cheese.

“I know he was here!” a male voice—has to be the shooter—yells, and I have no idea what he is talking about.

Alessandra’s purse is hanging off her arm. I grab it and dump it out on the floor of the dirty parking garage. The gun thumps down and I scramble to pick it up.

“I know he came to see you!” The guy is shouting stuff that makes no sense to me.

I peek around the front bumper. I see the shadow of a guy behind a concrete pillar from the direction the bullets came. I fire back. My gun is ten times louder and the sound ricochets off the metal joists of the garage, making my ears ring. Across the way, I see another guy blocked by a thick pillar, hiding. I can only make out a sliver of his face and dark hair.

“Where is he!?”

My attention goes back to the shooter.

A woman screams and a frenzy of people are shouting. I am sure as fuck that I’m going to jail, but with any luck, I can take one of these guys down with me. I squeeze off two rounds, and I sink back down to the cover of safety, my breaths heaving.

Alessandra surprises the shit out of me when she snatches the gun from me and uses it to smash the window of the SUV. Glass rains down. The car’s alarm goes off, echoing in the enclosed space. She huddles down while she sticks her hand inside and unlocks the door.

“Stay down!” She’s ordering me now. I pick up her shit off the ground and shove it back in the bag, wanting no evidence left behind, and crawl into the SUV behind her. The alarm is fucking with my concentration as I watch Alessandra play with wires beneath the dash. She stays low and after a few seconds the SUV roars to life.

“You know how to hotwire a car?”

“I’ve seen Louie do it a few times,” she declares as she gases it, hurtling us forward. A bullet blows out the back window, and I drop down in the seat, covering my head.
Shit!

We skid around in the tight space and sirens whirl outside. Someone called the cops. I don’t blame them, I would too if I wasn’t part of this whole nightmare. A couple of people walking in the garage are frantic to get out of the way. We speed down the ramps and bottom out at the entrance, fortunately not blowing a tire.

“The Mafia apples don’t fall far from the tree, do they...” I observe, holding on to the handle above my door as Alessandra drives us away from the fray.

“Who do you think built the dorm you’re living in?” Alessandra comments cryptically, steering us down a side street. I shake it off and turn, looking around for anyone following us.

The blaring sirens of the police seem farther away as she pulls the SUV over. Alessandra sticks her hand in the backseat, picking up a sweater that the owner left behind.

“Get out.”

I do as she says, carrying her purse with me. I watch through the broken window as she wipes down the inside of the car: the steering wheel, dashboard, door handles. Alessandra comes around and does the same on the passenger side. Her face is a mask I’ve seen before. Through the opening in the door, she tosses the sweater back in. “Let’s go.”

I blink; this take-charge attitude of hers is hot. Alessandra takes her purse from me and begins to walk down the street away from the stolen vehicle. Her long hair swings behind her. My feet are rooted to the spot I’m standing in. How can she break down in the dressing room but be calm in a fucking shootout? I shake my head at the absurdity and notice that my fingers have started to tremble with fear or adrenaline. I’m not sure.

“Are you coming?” Alessandra turns to me, questioning why I’m not moving.

“Uh, yeah.” My hand runs through my hair and I yank my cell phone from my pocket. With light jogging steps, I catch up to her. We are walking fast; I press send on my phone. We move further away from the stolen vehicle, which is now a crime scene that I am a part of.

Holy fucking shit!

“What?” Vito barks instead of hello and startles me from my mini-panic.

“We’ve got a problem.” My words are calm, and I pat myself on the back for not screaming into the phone that we were just shot at and I’m freaking out. I don’t share with Vito that my mind is playing over and over images of a bullet lodged in my head and my blood sprayed all over the parking garage. But the worst vision is the one of a limp Alessandra covered in red, eyes vacant. My eyes squeeze shut and I shudder.

“What? You there?” Vito growls on the other end.

“Umm, yeah. I’m here.” A wash of reality douses my ability to talk. My words are mumbled. I gaze at Alessandra and her dark hair is shimmering in the sun, glittering. I move closer and examine her long locks. They are covered in tiny shards of broken glass.

“What’s going on!?” Vito yells, bringing me back again.

“Someone shot at us at the mall.
”

“Is Alessandra okay!? Is she hurt?”

“No. She’s fine.”

“Who fuckin’ shot at you!?” Vito’s pitch is deadly.

“I don’t know.”

“What the fuck happened?”

“It’s kinda a blur…” I trail off. Alessandra stops walking and takes the phone right out of my hand.

“The gun was a nine millimeter with a silencer. They knew we were coming out of the mall. The guy said, ‘I know he was here.’”

Alessandra hands the phone back to me.

“Get her back to the dorm. I’m coming!” He bellows in that familiar growl then the line goes silent. I peer at my phone screen. It blinks the word
End.
I reset the screen.

“Who are you calling now?” Alessandra wonders.

“A ride.”

***

“When do you think it is safe to go get your car?” Jake is frustrated. He’s upset that I’m not really giving him details about what happened today. I turn around and peek into the backseat. Alessandra is leaning against the car door, staring out the window. Her eyes shift to mine, telling me not to tell Jake what happened. No matter how much I want to.

“I’m not sure. I just can’t go get it right now.” A silent strain ripples through the air. “Thanks for coming to get us.” My voice is a rumble as I think of all the shit that went down this afternoon.
How do Vito and Antonio deal?
My heart wants to bug out of my chest and my brain wants me to go to sleep for about six months. I scrub my face and do the same thing Alessandra’s doing. I rest my head against my door and stare out the window as the buildings and people go by; I’m not really seeing anything. The world is clouding into one big blob of mixed browns and greens. I am spent, my energy is drained.

“So what do you want me to do? Drive around for an hour?”

I check the time on my phone. It’s been about thirty minutes since I called Vito. I am going against his orders by waiting around to go get my car. My adrenaline is kicking up again as I think about what Vito would do to me if he found out. But on the other hand who cares. It’s my fucking car! My leg bounces with anxiety and the scenery outside the car window begins to clear. Businesses, houses, and pedestrians are vibrant, distinct, and well-defined like I’ve never seen the world before.

“Thirty minutes should do it,” I convey to Jake, remembering I needed to answer his question. We were parked pretty far away from the SUV. I hope I can slip in grab the car and go.

“Do you want to get a coffee?” Jake’s demeanor has softened. He’s peered into his rearview mirror a bunch of times, probably checking on Alessandra. She hasn’t said a word.

“Sure,” I agree; we should do something.

Jake spins the car into a space that he must have had second thoughts about fitting into—an obvious sign of distraction. We jolt forward and Jake turns off the car. The three of us continue to sit, not moving. Getting out of the car seems entirely too much trouble. Jake reaches for his door handle, the tendons in his hand prominent under his skin. He’s strong and fast, and his athletic training mixed with his body type is way better for taking care of Alessandra. I’m just a fuck-up with a life plan that shit the toilet.

“You coming?” he asks.

“Yeah.” I look behind me. Alessandra is in the exact same position that she has been in for thirty minutes. I’m worried.
How much is she capable of taking? What is her breaking point?

“They dug up my mother.” Tears roll down her eyes and they refuse to meet mine. Jake turns too.

“What?” I ask softly, confused.

“It’s why I had to leave.” She uses her index finger to stop two salty droplets from splashing onto her shirt. “I came home and my mother’s body was propped up at my kitchen table.”

“What the fuck?” Jake curses.

“I was out shopping with Megan and Ronnie.” She takes in a gulp of air. “We came through the door… and into the kitchen… and there she was.” Her big brown eyes are brightened and glossy from the tears but behind them is the deepest sadness I have ever seen.

“I’m so sorry, Alessandra.”
What crazy person would do something like that? And why?

I reach out to the backseat and put my hand on her knee. A lump is crowding my throat at the image and the hurt it must have caused her seeing her deceased mother’s decomposing body. My first reaction is sympathy but it slowly morphs into rage.

Beneath my rational, cautious, well-planned self—something wild is born. I fling the car door open, jump out, and slam it shut. I raise my fist and smash it down on the hood of Jake’s car. I can see Jake’s face through the windshield and he is pissed. I would be too if my friend walloped my car with his fist. Watching, I see him peer into the backseat. He is talking to Alessandra, comforting her. I should be doing that.

My hand runs down my face, I hesitate, gathering myself. I walk around the back of the car, fueled by my surprise and helplessness. I yank open the backseat door and get in. Immediately, I wrap my arm around her shoulders and she leans into me, welcoming my touch. She sobs in fits that wrack her whole body. Weeks of sorrow, misery, and crippling fear release into the air filling the car with a dread that can’t be fought.

I let her unload everything. The things I know and the things I don’t. There is something else that is hovering over her—an elephant that is crushing her chest with its foot. She’ll tell me when she’s ready. I’m just not sure I can wait that long.

***

The dorm is quiet. I run my key into the hole and turn, releasing the lock. Alessandra is under my arm leaning her weight on me. It’s okay because I like it. Having her close is something I want.

“I’ll see you guys later.”

“Thanks, Jake.” He followed us back to the dorm after dropping me off to pick up my car. The garage seemed to be getting back to normal except for two cop cars and a corded-off area where the shootout took place.

I toss my keys into the bowl on my bureau. I lead Alessandra straight into the bathroom. I’m not that sure of myself when we finally get in there, but I swallow my reservations and make this all about her. I lift the lever for the drain to seal it and let the water fill, hot and steamy.

“Do you want me to step out?” The rushing water echoes off the tiled walls.

I lock eyes with Alessandra and hers have the same rattled look to them as the day she was first seated on my bed with her eyes locked on the floor. Her brown hair swishes when she shakes her head no. She wants me here with her. Whether it is for comfort, or companionship, or me, she doesn’t want me to leave.

I twist the knobs to off and dab my finger in the water, testing the temperature. It’s perfect, like the woman standing next to me. I could stand here looking at Alessandra, drinking her in for eternity. I brush her hair off her shoulders. She turns, unbuttoning her jeans, and lets them slip down her legs. Her butt cheeks are deliciously popping out of her lacy underwear. Practically fully dressed, she settles into the water with her knees up to her chin.

Nothing compares to this. Not Megan, not Celia. They have been a distraction. My world is tilting, flying off its kilter, changing.

Her gaze sweeps across me and I know she feels it too. If you sift through all of the shit going on, this is what living is about—taking care of each other. Right now, Alessandra needs me, and I want to be all that she needs. Kissing her would be amazing, but it isn’t what she needs right now.

I pull off my shirt and take off my jeans. I slide in behind her and the water soaks my underwear. I wrap my arms around her, feeling her body shake. I realize she is crying, and I hold her tighter. We stay that way for a while as Alessandra continues to let her tears flow. Images of the first time I saw her skitter across my mind. It’s been a few years. Maybe everything I wanted before wasn’t real; this is genuine.

We sit enveloped in the hot bath, being together with someone nonjudgmental or demanding. The water cools so I reach across her and turn the knob for the hot water back on, letting it cascade through the surface of the water. She reaches forward, putting her hand under the steaming faucet. I snatch her hand away, not wanting her to get burned.