Vendetta

Somewhere along the way, there had been a gross misunderstanding. Everything had spiraled out of control. I couldn’t just think about the drugs or the money or the dark parts of my uncle’s soul without thinking about the good parts of him, too — the parts I knew existed. My uncle was not the one-dimensional villain the Falcones thought he was — how could they make allowances for themselves and not him? It wasn’t right. Even if I couldn’t convince them of that before it was too late, I still had to try.

Twenty minutes later, and to the bewilderment of the cab driver, I got out at a vacant lot on the outskirts of Old Hegewisch. Along the periphery, plastic bags floated like ghosts over sideways shopping carts. The old auto warehouse was halfway across the lot; it was a huge, faceless structure, its cracked concrete walls stained with rust and pigeon crap. On either side, shipping containers were precariously stacked like giant LEGOs, orange, beige, and blue. Along the top, a worn sign reading GREENE’S AUTO SUPPLIES swung precariously from its final screw. I walked briskly toward it, feeling less scared than I should have been. I was running entirely on adrenaline now, and I could feel my pulse in my fingertips.

I walked along a row of corrugated steel containers until I found an alley barely wider than a car. It was pitch-black and completely hidden from the entrance to the parking lot. At the end of the alley, I turned right and found two of the Falcones’ SUVs, parked and empty. So Luca and Nic were here already, but who had come in the other car? It was obvious why they had chosen the spot. It gave them a secret entrance and an immediate upper hand for when Jack arrived.

At the back of the warehouse, a small door was hidden behind several stacks of wooden crates. It was partially ajar. The lock had been broken, but I doubted its necessity — the door itself was already crumbling at the edges, and probably could have been kicked in by a child.

I tiptoed between the crates and slid through the door. The space inside was mostly empty; it was cold and dirty, and damp. The smell of mold hung in the air and around the edges, more stacks of termite-eaten crates were piled haphazardly, regurgitating strips of plastic packaging. A single wire cage lamp illuminated a circular space at the front, and another smaller lightbulb had been strung near the center, where the Falcones were standing, partially shielded by a tower of crates that came up to their chests. Luca was arguing with Felice, while Gino and Dom hovered behind them, fidgeting with their guns. Nic was several yards away, waiting just inside the front entrance. If only I could get his attention, maybe he would listen to me without being influenced by his brothers.

I started moving around the side of the warehouse, clutching at my sides as I bent low behind the boxes. Rats scurried in and out of crates, and I had to bite hard on my tongue to keep from yelping every time one skittered by my sneakers.

I stopped creeping and listened as the faraway rumblings of a car grew louder.

The activity in the warehouse fell deathly quiet.

The engine cut somewhere beyond the front entrance. I heard a car door shut. Jack. My heart was pounding hard and fast in my chest. Suddenly all I could think about was my uncle’s face when he walked into the guns that were about to be leveled at his head.

Then something unexpected happened: I heard another door shut, and another, and finally a fourth. Jack wasn’t alone.

Nic peered around the warehouse entrance and then pulled his head back in a blur. “He’s got company,” he announced to the others, backing away from his post and coming to stand beside Luca. Both of them looked uneasy, but no one seemed particularly surprised. I don’t know why I was so shocked: Walking into a dark warehouse alone was suicide. Jack was smarter than that, and, to my dismay, he was obviously used to this world and how things worked in it.

“They’ll have guns,” said Dom casually.

“Classic Gracewell,” said Felice with a mirthless laugh. “There is never any honor in his agreements. We always knew he would come heavy. How many are there?”

“It’s too dark, I couldn’t tell.” Nic’s voice was tight with frustration. He pulled out his gun and double-checked to make sure it was loaded. How could I get to him now when he was so close to his brothers? Maybe if I made it to Jack before he came inside, it would stop him from trying to come in at all. All this time I had been so worried about my uncle that I hadn’t stopped to think about the possibility he might come prepared, too. And that meant Nic and Luca weren’t any safer than he was.

Stupid vendetta.

I became more deliberate about my steps as the crates grew fewer and far between. They were getting trickier to hide behind and, with each shallow breath like a stab in my cracked rib cage, I was finding it harder to exert myself. If I could just make it through that front door before anyone came in, I might be able to stop a massacre.

“I knew this would get messy,” Felice was ranting. “And if he sees we don’t have the girl anymore, then he won’t hesitate to shoot first. We need to be on our guard — we’ve lost the upper hand.”

The shadows of Dom and Gino murmured their agreement. Luca’s voice was too low to hear, but by the way his hands were gesturing, I guessed he was protesting his innocence. From my vantage point, it looked convincing. I hoped it was.

“And you’re not even fully protected.” Felice motioned toward Luca’s and Nic’s chests. “Go out back before you get injured. Valentino’s angry enough already. We can’t afford to have anything else go wrong.”