Page 14 of Retribution

“Yes ma’am.”

“And you gotta promise me to go to school. Make Cory proud. And please don’t ever call me ma’am again.”

He managed a smile with his response. “Yes, Miss Ciara.”

We chatted some more about all the times Marco bothered Cory and how my brother feared that I’d do something drastic on his behalf. He was right. If I’d known about all the times Marco took his money, talked about our mother, or bothered him about any damn thing, it would have been Marco in that morgue.

After a couple of hours hanging with Garry, I dropped him home and promised to let him know when the funeral would be. I was waiting for the autopsy to be completed before I could bury my brother. Although the medical examiner had pronounced him dead and we all knew that he was killed with a single bullet to the chest, it was standard procedure to do the autopsy. I wanted that part of this crap to be over so I could concentrate on more important things, like slitting Carlos’ throat.

I wasn’t sure what I would do to Marco. I knew he needed to feel some pain for what he did, but Garry’s voice kept echoing in my ear. Marco didn’t do it.

“The fuck he didn’t!” I snarled into the wind as my motorcycle burned the pavement. “I will snap his freaking neck as well. And that Pretty Boy Mike was there too. That family will pay for this.”

Garry was just a kid. What the fuck did he know? He wasn’t the one being bullied because of a situation he had no control over. I was tempted to get pissed at Garry as well for trying to defend Marco, but I supposed he was just being honest about the situation. Still, if Marco had been a good student and not a brat, none of this would have happened.

Anyway, I pondered what Garry told me about Marco’s uncle. Luca had figured that Pretty Boy Mike was not the actual leader of the gang. He was a stand in, which was normal for many factions to protect the leaders’ identities. I was curious to know if the uncle was the real boss or not and if he had anything to do with this. What a shame if all of Marco’s relatives had to die for his mistake.

Oh well…

Chapter 10

Ciara

“He visits a woman in Kenwood Monday, Thursday, and Friday nights. But he has an aunt somewhere in Wilbur Heights.”

Luca set out a map of the city with markings on all of Dragon Crew hideouts, as well as their homes, and women’s homes. While he talked with the guys, I stepped outside for some air. We met at a loft in Curtis Road where most of the street team hung out. The building was a single unit that used to be an artist studio with a small lawn.

The loft had a large area on the upper level which served as a multi-user bedroom, with bunk beds anchored to the wall. A partition separated into another section with a double bed for privacy. The ground floor was an open plan for living space and kitchen, which also included a bathroom. It also contained a basement which was used as the armory, and a gym. All our facilities had a gym as we had to keep fit for the streets.

The space was sparse of furniture, only a large sofa, a few chairs, and a pool table in the living section, with a dining table over by the kitchen. Most of the men were in the kitchen area with Luca while some lounged about the living space as well as outside.

It’s been a few restless days since we met Pretty Boy Mike, and I was getting impatient with the slow pace of our mission. However, I understood that if we didn’t plan well, we would fail. Luca advised me that we should treat this like another Dimucci job, the only difference would be that we would exact the vengeance that the culprit deserved.

Someone stepped from behind the brownstone building and came up beside me. It was Sandy. The man always kept to himself, but tonight he decided to join the party. The last time we spoke I was supposed to attend a wedding with him, but I never got the chance to.

“You okay?” he asked, an unlit cigarette in his hand.

I nodded. “I didn’t know you smoked.”

“I don’t, not anymore.”

I supposed everyone had their ways of functioning that others didn’t understand. It wasn’t my business what he did with an unlit cigarette.

“Sandy, about the wedding you’re attending…”

“Don’t worry about it. The groom called it off.”

“What?” I was surprised. “Why?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. He just told me that things weren’t what they appeared to be.”

“Ohhhh,” I responded in a knowing tone.

“What is it?” he asked.

“She’s probably a bridezilla, or a cheater.”

He dropped the cigarette and stomped on it as though it was lit. “I suppose. I didn’t pry.”