I shook my head and walked toward him. I kept my gun lowered, though Steven and Biagio didn’t relax. I leaned down over Vlas and stared into his eyes.
“I’m not going to kill you,” I said.
There was a moment of panic on his face. He couldn’t hide it, and I wondered if he would have been able to in better times.
“What… what are you going to do with me?” he asked, stuttering the words out.
“I’m going to take you to my boss and let him decide,” I said. “Which is lucky for you.” I leaned even closer and could smell his stink, a foul stench rising from his rotting, weakened body. “If it were up to me, I’d cut off your balls and make you choke on them.”
His eyes went wide for a moment then he leaned back and laughed. He threw his head back and cackled like an animal. I let him laugh for a moment before bringing the butt of my gun down as hard as I could on his knee. He screamed in pain and doubled over, which made him groan and roll onto his side.
“Take him,” I said to Steven.
“Wait,” Vlas said. “Wait, wait, wait. Be careful, please, be careful. I can’t… I can’t walk.” He looked up at me, sweat pouring down his face, and he began to tremble.
“That wound?” I asked.
He nodded. “Shot. Your fucking… your fucking guy shot me. He killed me, Dante.”
“You deserved worse,” Aida snapped.
I laughed and shook my head at the irony of it. “Gino shot you in the leg and you didn’t go see a doctor,” I said. “I don’t think anyone deserves a slow death from a rotten wound any more than you do.”
“You don’t understand,” Vlas said. “You don’t… you don’t get it. The ghosts… they’re haunting me, Dante. All the death, all the lies… I did it all.”
He was raving, his eyes wild and wide. He shifted toward me and I raised my gun again. He let out a groan and winced away, covering his face with his arms. I looked at Aida and she just shook her head.
“He’s lost it,” she said. “God, this is pathetic. I can’t even look. I almost wish you could kill him right now and be done with it.”
I shook my head. “The Vlas I knew is dead,” I said. “Whatever this thing is, it’s much too pathetic to be worth my time.” I gestured at Steven and Biagio again. “Take him.”
They came forward and Vlas screamed in fear. Steven grabbed his legs, pulled him to the end of the bed, and Biagio grabbed him under the arms. They heaved him up together, and for a second, he flailed around until I kicked him in the side. He gasped for breath as Steven and Biagio carried him between them back through the dingy apartment and down the steep flight of stairs.
By the time we reached the street, they were both puffing and sweating. “Fuck, he’s heavy,” Biagio grunted.
Aida came out last, surveying the men arranged on the sidewalk as a drunk couple came stumbling past, barely paying any attention to what was going on around them.
“Come on, in the car,” I said.
They took Vlas across the sidewalk and threw him roughly into the rear hatch of a waiting SUV. I ran around to the front and got in behind the wheel. Steven took the passenger side seat, Aida got in behind me, and Biagio got in behind Steven. I nodded at the others and Chad slammed the rear hatch shut.
I heard Vlas groan in pain as I pulled out into traffic, heading toward Don Leone’s place.
“I hope Don Leone’s awake,” I said.
“He’s expecting us,” Steven said.
“Good.” I smiled and looked in the rearview mirror at Aida. She grinned at me, tilted her head, and blew a kiss. “We have a prize for him.”
I stepped on the gas, a smile on my lips.
31
Aida
Don Leone lived in a modest rowhome in the heart of Old City. I would’ve walked past it a thousand times and never known a dangerous mob boss lived in it, never would’ve guessed it wasn’t owned by a lawyer or a doctor with three kids and a pretty young stay-at-home wife.
Dante parked out front and killed the engine. “Here we are,” he said.
I laughed. “This is really it?” I asked. “I mean, the Don lives… here?”
“What did you expect?” Dante asked. “A mansion?”
“I guess I didn’t know what to expect,” I admitted.
“He used to live in South Philly,” Dante said. “But then that got too dangerous, so he moved up here.” He opened his door. “Come on, Steven, you go knock, I’ll grab our friend. Help me out, Biagio.”
I got out my side of the SUV and stood on the sidewalk as Dante and Biagio popped the hatch. Vlas raved about ghosts and death pressing at his door but he was slurring and only half with it. Steven hurried up the stoop and knocked on the door until one of the Don’s guards answered, the older guy named Roberto.
“We got him,” Steven said.
“Good.” Roberto stepped out of the house and looked around. He nodded at Dante and Biagio and gestured at them. “Come on, bring him in. The Don’s waiting.”
Dante and Biagio carried Vlas between them up the steps. Steven followed next, and I took up the rear. Roberto gave me a look and closed the door behind me before gesturing for the group to follow him.
The entryway had rich, dark hardwood floors. There was a parlor sitting room to the right with an old fireplace and low, deep red couches set up around it. I noticed a few oil paintings on the walls, but didn’t have time to check them out further. Roberto led the group down the main hall, past a huge staircase with a chandelier hanging from the ceiling, and down
