28
Damon
I jumped every red light in order to get to my apartment and get equipped with every possible resource at my disposal: a spare gun, darts, even throwing knives. If the mob wanted some kind of showdown with me, they could have it. Of course they could’ve been waiting there for me, ready to take me out, but I had an inkling they wouldn’t. That wasn’t their style, taking on a skilled hitman in his own territory; even in the street. They would look to stand aloof from a showdown, negotiating me into a corner before putting a gun to the back of my head.
My days of being cautious were over, however. I was counting on their overconfidence as well as hoping they underestimated the extent of my feelings for Beatrice, regardless that they knew some of the key details. If they didn’t imagine I would come straight for them, it might give me a chance; I wasn’t going to try and be clever by lurking in the shadows. Hit them while they were preoccupied with bribing the Governor; a perilous route towards a speedy resolution but one that might just give me a shot. The biggest difficulty would be covering up the extent of my anger upon calling Caruso, but it would be folly to not try and second-guess the mobster’s next move. After flicking on my TV in case of any further media updates, though muting the sound as I made the call, I waited for my employer to answer.
“Damon, what can I do for you?” Caruso answered, a little too merrily for my liking.
“Mr. Caruso, let’s not screw around. I know you ordered Beatrice Bentley to be kidnapped,” I replied. “Which means that you’ve reneged on our deal; I always said I never wanted my work to affect women and children.”
He laughed, and my blood began to boil. “That’s none of your business now, Damon,” he replied. “You screwed up and were taken off the job, remember?”
“You know that’s an exaggeration. Now where is she?”
“As I said, it’s none of your business. Besides, did you really think we’d let you leave the Caruso family’s service that easily?” he said. “No…we were always going to take Bentley’s daughter. We just needed a fall guy for the operation to cover up our involvement, and you walked right into it. You never really had an ‘out’, and we never really had a deal. No one ever leaves the Carusos, unless it’s in a body bag. It’s all over now, Damon.”
Caruso hung up, leaving me even angrier than before I’d called him. Plus, I didn’t understand the last comment. Did describing me as a ‘fall guy’ really make any kind of sense?
That was when I turned around to discover that my whole assessment of the situation had wildly underestimated events, as I came face to face with a photo of myself, staring back from the TV. I immediately flicked the mute option off, though I really didn’t need to in order to learn that I was now the chief suspect in Bea’s kidnapping.
Fuck.
I was hardly even listening properly, just staring with my fists clenched in unfiltered fury at the extent to which the mob had screwed me over.
“It looks like Wilkerson was able to manufacture an entire new identity so he could work with the Bentley’s Secret Service detail in order to get close to Beatrice, which highlights the sheer incompetence of our nation’s supposedly grade-A government protection…”
The journalist’s voice drifted off as a million thoughts ran through my head.
I realized that Caruso had known about my involvement with Bea from the start. I’d sealed my part in her downfall, not by accepting the mission, but by craving that first date in the first place. Distracted by having fallen for a beautiful face, my usual powers of observation had come up short and I’d failed to notice just how extensively I was being observed after killing Batista. They’d seen me with her, and they’d seen an opportunity to kidnap the daughter of the Governor while setting me up as the fall guy.
It was smart; I had to admit that.
Even worse, I then heard the word ‘pregnant’ coming from the TV, and I realized that there were no details of my personal situation kept from Caruso at all. He was holding all the cards, having likely tapped my phone before sitting back and waiting for all the pieces to be in the right place.
“We have received rumors from an anonymous source in just the last few minutes,” the news broadcaster said, “that the Governor’s daughter—abducted earlier today—is pregnant with the child of chief suspect Damon Wilkerson, but decided she didn’t want to be with him. This is likely what led him to abduct her.”
The mob had outplayed me on every front, and rather than worrying about how to deal with Caruso and his henchmen, I knew that I’d be faced with the police if I didn’t get out of here quickly.
And then who the hell would get to Bea?
There was only one person I could run to who would still believe me and possibly be able to help. I’d been cold with Felicia since she’d given me away to Bea, but it was to her legal aid office that I decided to head with the hope of catching her working late.
But not before I took a baseball bat to the TV, smashing its lies and fiction into hundreds of pieces, just as my life had been in the last hour.
If I didn’t save Bea, I’d never forgive myself.