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“This one is another bust. Any luck, Mina?” I said, staring at the woman below me, who was half-awake and had a needle sticking out of her left arm.
“I showed the list to the doctor.”
“You did what?”
“It doesn’t matter, Liam put the fear of God into him. He doesn’t believe any of these women will do—”
“Have you ever thought he is lying?” I snapped the apartment doors shut behind me as I exited the building, which smelled like piss and weed. “Just keep feeding me names, and keep by the computer; the program I set up should keep producing names that fit the criteria.”
I didn’t wait for her to reply before hanging up. My Aston Martin was surrounded by wannabe gangsters and children alike. As I stepped out into the wind, I hoped the air would smell better, but it only smelled worse. I hated Southbend.
“Move,” I said to them, and one by one their heads turned back to me.
“This yours?”
Dumbass question from dumbass people. Ignoring them, I walked around them toward the driver’s seat when some grabbed my arm.
“Hey!”
I stared at his old leather jacket before looking up at his grimy, scarred face. His front tooth was missing, and his hair was overgrown and messy; he was most likely still a teenager, not even an adult.
“We talkin to—”
My fist collided with his nose so quickly his head bucked back and his body fell to the ground. They stood there stunned before some of them pulled out knives and all pulled
up their fists.
“I’m in a bad mood and short on time; you really want to fuck with me today?” I questioned.
Their answer was to charge at me and my reply was my gun. It would always be a fucking gun. Without mercy, I managed to fire three times before the rest abandoned their “friends,” running for their lives.
The boy stared at the bullet hole in his stomach, falling back, almost on my car, but missing by an inch and landing to the right. Thank fucking Christ.
“Gun beats knife. If you live you never forget, if you don’t, you don’t.” I got into the car, closed the door, reversed away from their bodies, and then drove around them.
I got about five blocks before I realized I was being tailed. It wasn’t the police, and it wasn’t any of our people; the windows were tinted, and by my best guess, bulletproof. Turning onto the highway, they came in close behind me.
Who the fuck? Hitting the Bluetooth, I waited for the signal beep before speaking. “I’m coming down the Forty-Seven with two tails.”
“We clearing the way, sir?” he questioned.
“No.” I glanced into the rearview mirror. “If they wanted to attack they would have already.”
“Spikes then?”
“I’ll be passing through in two.”
Pulling off the highway and down toward Forty-Seventh Avenue, aka Little Italy, I sped up, pushing well past 100, knowing full well they would as well.
Three.
Two.
One.
Slamming on the brakes and turning the wheel to the right, I spun the car around, the tires screeching and smoke coming up as I faced the two black Lincoln town cars, the tires of which were now blown out thanks to the spike track they’d just crossed over.
“You have two choices!” I called out, gun in hand when I got out of my car. The door was the only thing shielding me from them, that and, of course, the people I had waiting as back up. “Choice one: get out of the car and beg. Choice two: stay in the car and die.”
