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“He was on our territory!” Alonzo begs for understanding. He won’t find it with me.
“Who told you to get him off of it?”
Hesitation. Another step forward. The next one will be my last.
“Santino!” Alonzo yelps. “Santino Costa. We’d been drinking. We heard someone speaking Russian and it just made our eyes go red. Can you blame us? After so many years, it’s going to take more than just a few weeks to learn to live together.”
“You’ve had more than a few weeks,” I answer coldly. “This business with the Russians has been no secret. You’ve put everything in danger. You and Santino...”
“Santino was the one who pulled the trigger!” Alonzo interrupts, throwing his superior under the bus. “I just shot around the Russian’s feet. Santino was out for blood. You know his little brother was killed by the reds, right? He can’t stand a Ruski.”
I consider the information. Everyone already knows that Alonzo was involved in the killing of Alexai Molchalin—he made sure of that when he drunkenly stumbled back to the Paradise Alley bar and bragged about it to all the patrons—but there had been something missing to the story. Not anymore. The twitchy underling was just following orders, and even then, he hadn’t pulled the trigger himself—Gianni had been right, as always.
“One more question,” I ask, almost teasing the curled-up ball of filth before me.
“You said you only had one!” Alonzo whines. I just want to wrap my hands around his neck and squeeze until his eyes pop out of his head. Even now, the clueless piece-of-shit doesn’t understand how close he’s come to undermining the biggest underworld deal in the history of this stinking city.
“I said that the first question would be your last if you didn’t answer it truthfully; now that you have, I have another.”
“I don’t know where he is,” Alonzo whispers, before I can ask it of him.
I get ready to take my final step. “That’s not what I want to hear.” The rickety floorboards creak under my weight. Alonzo crawls up higher in his chair.
“I haven’t seen him since that night. I swear! He’s probably long gone. If I had known that I’d be blamed for all this, I’d have left town too!”
I stab my switchblade down into the arm of the couch and press the cold barrel of my Glock against Alonzo’s sweaty forehead. I can see his face now. He’s gaunt and pockmarked and the faint shadows from the kitchen clock make his eyes look like pale dots in a vast sea of darkness. He’s scared shitless. I slide my finger overtop the trigger.
“Last chance.”
Alonzo is frozen. I’m not going to get any answers from him like this. Quickly, I rip my switchblade out from the arm of the couch and plunge it deep into his clavicle. I can hear the blade scrape the bone. Before Alonzo can cry out, I shove the barrel of my Glock into his mouth. His teeth chatter around the cold steel. He’s awake now. I slowly pull the barrel out, but leave it levelled on his greasy lips.
“Where is Santino?” I ask, making it clear that if he falters these will be the last words he ever hears.
Alonzo closes his wide eyes and takes a deep breath. His head collapses so that my barrel is pointed at his forehead again. His thin, greasy strands of black hair drape my weapon. “... Chinatown.” Alonzo whispers, defeated. Blood pours out of his chest. His face is stained with the mess that came out of his nose earlier.
“Where in Chinatown?” I ask, offering him more words than I had just promised.
“At the Triad’s base. The Moon Dragon’s Den. It’s where he always goes when he needs to hide.”
“Do the Chinese know what he’s hiding from?”
“I don’t know.”
I can tell that there are no more lies left in him. I could ask him anything in the world right now, and honesty would flow out of his mouth like the blood from his shoulder.
I decide to make sure.
“Who took the final shot?” I ask.
Alonzo sighs in the way that only those who realize they’re done for do. “He did.”
I slide my knife out of him and the bleeding only increases. Alonzo barely flinches. I push his hung head up with the barrel of my gun until his eyes are level with mine. He already looks dead. I just finish the job.
2
Nia
I swear to god, if this motherfucker tests me one more time...
