Chapter Twenty-Six
Misha
It’s dusk, and I’m starting to get a little nervous. I know that two of my father’s men are watching Chiara’s place, but if they’re lost like Moretti’s men who were doing the same job, I have no way of knowing it has happened.
I also haven’t spoken to Chi, and I have no way of knowing if she’s okay. I feel like a teenage boy fretting over his girlfriend, but I can’t help it. I pull out my phone, and that’s when I realize the signal jammer is on. Damn it, Chiara’s house could have burned down and I’d never know. She could have tried to call me. She might be in trouble.
Now I’m fucking stuck. I want to talk to her to make sure she’s okay, but I don’t want Moretti to know where I am either. Not that he would know my phone number. He probably doesn’t know where I live either, because I don’t think he followed me after my accident.
I have no idea what to do. I’m standing here, staring out my dining room window, and I’m so trapped in my thoughts I don’t even hear Dimitri until he touches my shoulder. I jump, but settle down when I see it’s him.
“You’re worried about her, aren’t you?” he asks, as he takes in my expression.
“Yes. I’m wondering if I should open the cell signals so I can call her,” I admit.
“Your signal jammer is a little drastic, don’t you think?” he asks, with a smirk.
“It’s kept me alive,” I point out. When he rolls his eyes, I shake my head. “Being invisible has kept me safe.”
“But you need to know how she is. And I need to know about my business, and if Guilia Rossi is in New Jersey. Turn it off for a little while, and let me communicate with my men.” He sounds very calm, and convincing, and I do want to hear from her.
I’m walking to my communications closet to turn off the scrambler, when I change my mind. I think it would be better if my apartment stays invisible, and I need to know Chi’s apartment is still in one piece. “Let’s go.”
“Where are we going?” he asks, as he grabs one of my automatic rifles and slings it over his shoulder.
Since we’re waiting in my apartment, all of my guns are available. No one will ever see my private armory in my basement, not even Dimitri. But I carried up several guns that I thought would be helpful, and left others that I didn’t think were appropriate for my quiet Brooklyn neighborhood. Not that I ever thought I’d shoot a rocket launcher out my kitchen window, but it’s there if I need it. Not to mention what I have in the storage area behind my closet in my bedroom. I’m prepared for anything.
Except falling in love with an Italian princess. I wasn’t prepared for that.
When we’re outside, I approach a vehicle covered with a faded black tarp. It looks like it might be covering an old hunk of junk, but when I remove the cover I expose my brand new caddy SUV. It’s black, not brown, so I hope Chiara will approve. I keep it covered to protect my anonymity, because the plates and the VIN number are real.
Dimitri whistles when he sees it. “Sweet ride, Misha.” That makes me grin. “Is it bulletproof?”
I remove my rifle and place it on the back seat. “Ha! I’m not that rich,” I reply, as I open the door and start the engine.
Dimitri climbs in the passenger side, almost hesitantly. I’m sure he’s used to sitting in the back of the car now. “Where are we going?”
When we’re out on the street, I grab my cell phone, and immediately call Chiara. She answers immediately, with an excited, “Hello?”
“Hello, treasure. Are you okay?” I demand as soon as I hear her voice.
“I’m fine, Misha. Guilia is okay, she’s nervous but likes the place. We’re hanging out in Dimitri’s suite. He has a pool in the middle of his living room!” she exclaims.
Great, now I have to top that somehow. “Good. I’m glad you’re okay,” I say. I try to keep my emotions low key, because I don’t want her to be worried. Also, Dimitri is in the seat beside me. I notice, although he said he needed to make his own phone calls, he hasn’t yet.
“Tell me how you are, Misha. Tell me what is happening there,” she demands, gently. I clear my throat, but I don’t answer her. I can’t tell her that we are on our way to her place, because I hope to find the Moretti family there and I’m looking for a fight. “Please, Misha. I need to know.” Her voice is soft, but firm. I think she knows what I’m going to do.
“I’m with Dimitri. We’re going to your place,” I admit.
She sighs loudly. “Please be careful, Misha.”
“I will be. I promise. You’ll be coming home soon, treasure. We’ll be together soon, I promise.”
“I hope so,” she says. “I miss you, Misha. Take care of yourself.”
“I will. I love you,” I say, without thinking twice. I’m not ashamed of my feelings for her.
“Misha, I-“ she begins.
But I interrupt her. “Not now, treasure. You’ll have time to tell me when you see me again. I’ll see you soon.” I hang up before I can say anything else. Then I turn toward Dimitri, who looks bemused but doesn’t speak. Probably best.
At that he begins to make his phone calls. I’m thinking about Chiara, in what I can only assume is the lap of luxury provided by the handsome man sitting beside me. It’s frustrating that I will never be able to give her that, unless I return to killing.
We’re sitting in front of Chiara’s house, and I am again lost in my thoughts of her, when I hear, “There’s a car circling the block.” I glance up toward the street, and catch the tail lights of an SUV turning left. “What do we do?”
I’m suddenly in work mode. I am in my element now. “See that silver sedan on the next block?” Dimitri nods. “Run up there and make sure they are still alive.”
“Without protection?” he mutters. Dimitri looks too tough, too dominant for the confused expression that’s covering his handsome face.
“You have a gun,” I growl, and exit the SUV. I slam the door closed. Fuck! I paid too much money for this damn car to get it shot up. But I’ll do anything for Chiara.
“Where are you going?” he asks, as he walks around the car toward me.
“I’m going to disappear,” I tell him, as I step into the shadows.
I watch him as he jogs down the block. Thank God he isn’t wearing a suit, or he would have complained about that too. He approaches the silver sedan, then speaks to the occupants for several moments. I think it’s safe to assume they are alive. I stealthily walk around the block, and find the SUV Dimitri pointed out on the next block over. It’s empty. That’s not good.
I move to return to my car, to find a gun pointed directly at me. Suddenly, unexpectedly, I’m face to face with Dante Moretti. Finally. He favors his older brother, but he’s not as big or brawny as Frankie. He almost seems a little effeminate to be in the mob. Even with a gun pointed at me, I’m not afraid of him.
“So you’re Dante, the asshole who preys on little girls,” I spit out, making my distaste apparent.
His pretty face turns into a snarl. “If you’d seen Guilia, you’d know she’s not a girl. You can keep your whore, just tell me where my woman is.”
I scoff at him. “Your woman? She’s not a woman, she’s a child. And I’ll make you regret calling Chiara that.”
“My family might be afraid of you, but I’m not. To me, you’re just another Russian that needs a bullet in the head.” He moves the sight of the gun up, and it’s pointed right between my eyes. At one point in time, I would have been ready for this. Not now. I have too much I want to do. I have the rest of my life with Chiara to look forward to.
Just as I’m about to reach out and try to disarm him, I hear someone approach. Then they speak. “Drop your weapon, dick.” It’s Dimitri. What the hell is he…
Dante turns quickly, and when his attention is on Dimitri, I train my own gun on Dante’s back. It’s only a second, I swear less than one heartbeat, before I hear the shot ring out. Dimitri’s eyes go wide, and his face scrunches up into a mask of sheer pain.
Fuck! Dimitri has been shot, and it’s my fault. I lunge toward him, to try to somehow keep him alive. That’s when Dante crumbles onto the sidewalk. I glance back at Dimitri, and his eyes are huge as he stares down at the gun in his hand. He looks stunned, as if he has no idea what happened.
Surely he’s killed before. Or maybe he just pays grunts like me to do his dirty work.
“What the fuck just happened!” he cries out.
I stare down at Dante Moretti, taking in the blood seeping out of the hole in his chest, covering his gray shirt. “Looks like you just shot a Moretti.” I reach the toe of my boot out, and nudge his hip. He grunts, and gurgles.
“What the fuck do we do now?”
I aim my pistol between Dante’s eyes, and tell him exactly what I think we should do. “We should kill him.” I’m just waiting for him to give the order.
“Wait!” he exclaims, as he pulls out his phone. “We can work with him being alive.”
I sigh loudly, and shake my head as I watch him. “We should just shoot him.” Dimitri glares at me, and I can see a plan developing. Maybe I should just go with it. “Block the number if you’re calling nine one one. Star six seven that shit.”
“Yea,” he replies, and frantically touches the screen of his phone.
I hear a car start up, and then I see the SUV Dante arrived in peeling out and driving away. Great. The first real shot has been fired. The war has really begun.
I hear Dimitri trying to tell an operator what has happened, but his words are barely comprehensible his accent is so thick. So I take the phone and tell the person exactly where to find Dante. Then, I grab Dimitri by the shirt, and pull him toward my car. The sedan driven by my father’s men is driving away as I start my SUV and slam it into gear.
“What do we do now, Misha?”
“Right now I have to fucking drive without getting pulled over,” I say, as I listen for sirens.
“How the hell are you so calm! You would have just killed him!” he cries out, as he pounds the leather of my dash with his big fists.
“Because I don’t care about that piece of shit lying on the sidewalk. He deserved a bullet, and I hope he dies. All I’m worried about now is getting you somewhere safe.”
And Chiara. I’m worried about what might happen to her, or her family, because of what Dimitri did. But I won’t say that out loud.