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He doesn’t seem inclined to give me privacy for the call, so I reach into my pocket and speed-dial Chucky, putting the phone to my ear.
The line connects with silence, and I talk first, keeping Chucky’s name out of it lest Dominick get curious for more information. It may be a nickname, but I wouldn’t put it past Dom to find out Chucky’s real name and entire history in less than forty-eight hours if he was motivated to do so. “Hey, man. It’s Shane.”
Chucky sounds excited, panting as he greets me. “Damn, dude, you must have balls of fucking steel! Everyone here is talking about how Dominick walked into Sal’s house, in the middle of a fucking wake, told all his shit to the whole damn crew, including the Colombians, and then beat the shit out of a traitor. And you just stood there, sweet as you please, with no reaction.”
Interesting. Guess they didn’t hear about my kicking the shit out of Nick on my way out. Probably a good thing, considering everything else. I never actually met the man the FBI put in the Rivaldi family, but he must not have been present. The FBI wouldn’t ignore my beating the fuck out of Nick like that. The boot to the gut on a downed man was definitely past ‘appropriate use of force.’
“Yeah,” I reply airily, though, trying to play it off. “That’s pretty much what happened.”
“Weren’t you shitting your pants that Dominick was going to kill you?” Chucky asks, still panting a little. “I mean, I know you’re in Dom’s custody, but it would’ve been real fucking easy for him to say he was taking you to Sal’s and then dump your body in the river. Probably even keep the girl for himself.”
I look at Dominick, considering what happened in the car yesterday, and make up my mind. “No, if he wanted me dead, I would be. He’s a man of his word and said he’d help, so I trusted him to follow through.”
Chucky whoops like a teenager at a pop concert, and I have to pull my phone away for a moment to wince. “That’s some top-notch loyalty there, man. Not sure I’d trust anyone that that much, even if they were player one in the game.”
“It’s not a game, man. Any other updates? Word on the hitman?” I ask, getting irritated at Chucky’s casualness considering this is my life. Maggie’s life.
Chucky whistles, obviously surprised. “You haven’t heard about the hitman?”
There’s something to Chucky’s tone, a weirdness I can’t place. I look to Dominick, who’s eyes are crinkling a bit . . . in amusement? “No, I haven’t heard. What is it?”
“Sal Rivaldi woke up this morning to find the hitman dead . . . in his living room . . . sitting up in his fucking throne of a chair . . . and none of the guards saw a thing.” Chucky delivers the details with dramatic pauses for effect, and it works.
“So, he’s dead?” I ask, a little disappointed. The bastard almost killed my woman and put a groove in my left bicep that’s going to leave a wicked scar. I wanted to at least get a little bit of a receipt on that.
Chucky laughs darkly, obviously pleased, although I know if he found a dead body in his living room, someone would need to call an ambulance for his heart attack. “Yeah, you could fucking say that. That’s not even the best part, though.” I wait, knowing Chucky will tell me when he’s ready. Finally, he laughs. “The best part is that on the coffee table were a handful of bullet cases, presumed to be the brass from Carlos’s shooting, and an invoice . . . for the repairs to Petals’s private room!” Chucky is wheezing, laughter taking his breath away, and I can’t help but smile. Dominick is a twisted, manipulative son of a bitch and a damn scary motherfucker.
I like him. Too bad we officially have to be enemies when this is all said and done.
Chucky is winding down, getting himself under control while I study Dom, who’s openly grinning now. “You know, I gotta ask. Everyone knows Dominick either did it or had it done, but you’re the inside guy. You know anything?”
I grin back at Dominick, who’s watching me with interest, and lean back before forming a casual reply. “Nope, Dominick came back here after we went to the Rivaldis’ and was here all night. It was business as usual at Petals.”
“Yeah, figured he wouldn’t have you in on any of the dirty work,” Chucky says. There’s a rustle on Chucky’s end, and he seems to messing around with something on his computer from the clicking sounds. “The office thinks you’re clear. Word I’ve got here is that you can make official contact, mission accomplished, and you can exfil now. Report in when you’re out.”
