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19
Nico
“Are you sure this is the right address?” I pull open the driver’s side door of my R8 and slide into the front seat, speaking into my iPhone.
“Yeah.” Santino Lucchese, Rocco’s father, responds. I can almost see him rub a hand over his shiny bald head, something he does when he’s nervous. It’s his tell. I know he thinks this is a fucking crazy idea, and he’s right. I have no business walking into Christ only knows what with a handgun and nothing else. I’m not a soldier. I’m just fucking pissed off.
“Nico, it’s not a good idea for you to go alone. Let me pull together some of the guys—”
“Santino, you’ve always been a good friend to my dad. I know he’d appreciate you helping me out. But it’s my job to handle this guy. He’s taken too much already, and I can’t let him take any more.”
“No disrespect, Nico, but you’re not exactly the muscle of this family. What’s your plan? Business isn’t this guy’s thing. Killing is. You of all people should know that.”
“What I do know is that because I haven’t made a move sooner, Carlo is dead and my dad is hanging on by a thread. I don’t have a grand plan, Santino, other than to end this.”
“Do you at least have a gun?”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, and it’s got bullets in it, too.”
“I had to ask.”
“Thanks for getting me the address. And don’t give it to Rocco, okay? I need to handle this on my own.”
“I think you’re making a pretty damn stupid move by going, but I wish you luck, Nico.”
“Thanks.” I click off the phone and toss it onto my seat, ignoring the frantic text messages from Shaye. She called a couple of times when I was on with Santino too. I close my eyes before starting the engine, trying to focus and block out the voices, sounds, and images that are plaguing me. I can’t go into this with so much shit flying through my mind.
But my mind doesn’t cooperate. It betrays me as usual.
I press my fingertips to my temples, willing my mind to block out the images – the one of that Mack truck pounding my father’s car into oblivion, the one of Shaye’s tear-streaked face, the one of my mom weeping at my father’s bedside…
I can’t fucking operate like this! I slam my hands on the steering wheel and try again.
Focus, focus, focus for fuck’s sake!
All I can hear is the sound of glass shattering and metal crushing as it reverberates between my ears, making my pulse throb. Those sounds are on repeat over and over in my head. I push back my hair, pressing my palms to my forehead, desperate to clear my mind but instead a flash of white floats into my mind and suddenly, Shaye is front and center in a long, white wedding dress. Smiling, laughing, happy, exactly the way she deserves to be. Shaye in a hospital bed smiling down at a baby, Shaye walking along the shore of a white, sandy beach with two little girls with blonde pigtails dancing along next to her…
But where the fuck am I in all of this?
Am I there? Is this my life? Or, deep down, is it what I’m afraid to miss?
I clench my fists around the steering wheel. I’m fucking afraid. I have too much good in my life, too many plans for the future…what happens if I lose it all?
It only takes one bullet…
I let out a shaky breath, my heart thudding in my chest. I know one thing for sure. Sitting here isn’t getting me any closer to finishing this shit.
I can’t fail. If I do, I’m leaving the lives of everyone I care about hanging in the balance. He’ll go after them next because he’s a vindictive motherfucker who doesn’t believe in leaving loose ends.
The engine roars to life, and I press my foot on the gas, the tires squealing on the pavement as I race out of the parking lot. I’ve wasted enough time. He’s not that far away, and I know he’s waiting for me. Hell, he’s waited for this for the past five years. I tighten my grip on the steering wheel in the direction of the dump he’s holed up at in Rutherford. I pull onto Route 46, rotating my neck to knock out the crick that is making it so damn stiff. No surprise it doesn’t work.
I stomp on the gas, flying past strip malls lining the road and through traffic lights. I glance at the clock on the dashboard. Only another ten minutes, and then…
I have no fucking idea. But it’s not that far into the future, and I should probably come up with a plan before I go in there, my gun cocked and ready to spit bullets. The strip malls fade away, and the rest of the stretch is barren. No trees, no grass, just concrete. My navigation system pings and tells me the exit is coming up in another mile. Thankfully, traffic is pretty light right now, which rarely happens here in northern Jersey. Luck must be on my side today.
I wish I could say the same for my dad.
I flip on my blinker when the sign for the exit appears. The ramp is steep, and I take it too fast because I’m just a little fucking nervous about what awaits me once I roll up to Luca’s place.
