Page 86 of Capo
The heat camera shows three people in the living room and one in the kitchen. We’ve all studied the layout and know exactly where to position ourselves. I gesture for my men to move in.
Upset voices boom from the back of the apartment. I smirk. They have, no doubt, been notified of their sudden complete loss of assets.
There’s only one door and we dart inside, spraying bullets across the room. It’s wild, sloppy, and monstrously satisfying. Two of my men run toward the kitchen as a shot goes off, then another. The fourth Russian motherfucker had time to react and one of my people fall, clutching his shoulder, then rapid fire from the semi ends the life of the last Russian mobster in San Francisco. It will be a very long while before they set foot in my town again. If ever.
I look at the massacred men on the couch, then I walk up to them and spit. “Fucking culo! Vai all’inferno!” I snarl. They can all go to Hell. I’ll meet them there and fuck up their afterlife too.
“Boss,” says someone behind me and I spin around. Our fallen guy clutches his shoulder. He’s pale and sweaty. I walk up to him and tear off his safety vest and jacket despite his screams.
“It’s a flesh wound. The vest protected you. Your legs work fine. It’s time to leave. We’re done.”
Two of the guys take the wounded man to the hospital while I and the remaining soldier head back to my mansion. During the ride one text message after the other pops into my phone. London done. Roarke Brennan is an absolute murder machine, ruthless and efficient. Moscow done. Eric Reed took on the toughest mission and had to coordinate the biggest attack. Ukraine done. My men have performed well. I’ll reward each and every one personally.
One long chilly night is all it takes to wipe out our enemies. The slaughter has been delicious. I see Ivan’s pale face before me. Chloe, traumatized and drenched in their blood. I revel in having executed every last motherfucker of the Russian mobsters who thought they could come into my city and mess with my life.
If we’ve missed anyone, they’ll have no means to recover and no one’s going to want to fuck with us for the foreseeable future.
It’s four in the morning when I call my club manager.
“Sir?” He sounds barely half-awake.
“Tonight, we’re back in business. Open everything. Give discounts at your own discretion. Get people back to our venues at all cost.”
Alan suddenly sounds a lot more alert. “Fucking finally. Will do, sir!”
“I’ll come by the Crown tonight and make an appearance.”
“We always store your preferred wine.”
“Good boy.”
I’m tired as all hell but filled with adrenaline. Twisting and turning in bed, I finally give up, work out, take a shower, and prepare to start the day.
Passing my office, I grab my laptop and go to the kitchen to make myself an espresso. The table looks eerily abandoned. Ghosts of past conversations bounce between the walls. Chloe with David, calm, fresh out of bed, her blonde hair splayed over her shoulders. I don’t know where we go from here. I can’t lock her up again, but I can’t let her go either. I threw away the leverage with her brothers and now I’m pretty much fucked if she tells me to go to Hell.
Opening the laptop, I begin to sort through dozens of unopened emails while my thoughts spin. I need to get my place back in order. There are extensive repairs to be done. I’ll gather everyone for a debriefing and make sure to pay my men for their phenomenal effort. I’ll finally take a day and go visit Christian in New York. I need to see that bastard for myself. Second-hand reports are infuriatingly unsatisfying.
When my house is habitable again, I’ll send for Chloe. What does she want? How can I make her stay? Money? Jewelry? Cars? Horses? A puppy? What is she into? I realize I know way too little about her, and I have absolutely no one to ask.
Maybe I can ask her?
Me, asking for something instead of demanding?
I don’t know who I am anymore.
The sound of my front door quietly opening and closing has me on my feet in a second. I grab my gun and listen as I sneak closer. It’s six in the morning. I can’t think of anyone who’d show up unannounced at this hour. I haven’t gotten new gate guards in place yet and now I realize that it was beyond sloppy.
Locating the direction of the shuffle of feet, I fall on one knee and take a quick peek around the doorpost.
In the center of the hallway, right on the mosaic of a compass rose, almost at the same spot where he lay shot, stands Ivan. His arm is in a sling and his shirt hangs looser than I’m used to seeing it. He’s lost some pounds. I tuck the gun away and walk up to him, spreading my arms wide.
“You fucking moron. You almost got yourself shot. What are you doing here? They let you go? At this hour?”
He shoves his hand through his hair. My usually clean-shaven henchman sports a short, but wild blond beard. “Boss! I-I kinda let myself out.” He shrugs, grimaces, and then smiles sheepishly.
I bark out a laugh and shake my head. “I knew a few bullets wouldn’t take you out. Have you had breakfast?” I grab the bag out of his hand. “What do you want?”
Ivan shakes his head.