Endings & Beginnings (New Mafia Trilogy #3) (12 page)

   “Yeah, everyone confirmed. Where are you?” he
asked when the elevator dinged loudly upon arriving at the lobby.

   “Leaving Nat’s hotel.”

   “No shit, are you back together?”

   “No, we were hanging out as friends. That dick
from the Feds, Phillips, paid her a visit this afternoon.”

   “What the fuck? What did he want?”

I walked to a deserted section located off to the
side of the main entrance while I waited for the valet to bring my Mustang
around and filled Dante in on how Agent Phillips was trying to get Natalie to
turn on them.

   “What an asshole. Does Grant know?”

   “No way man, he just got married and I don’t want
him to worry over nothing. Natalie told me she turned Phillips down.”

   “And you believe her?”

I paused before answering, “Yeah, yeah I do. Nat’s a
good girl she wouldn’t do anything to hurt Grant.”

   “What about you, would she rat on you?”

   “I don’t think so, that would inadvertently
involve Grant too.”

   “Well, I hope you’re right. We’ve finally got
things on track and can’t afford to have L.E.O.s investigating any more than
they already are.” L.E.O. was short for Law Enforcement Officer.

I hoped I was right too, but I was listening to my
gut and that hadn’t failed me yet.

Sam opened the door to The Speak and let me and
Dante in, but not before surveying the neighborhood behind us.

   “How ya doin’, Sam?” I asked.

   “Good, boss. The place is secure and everyone is
in the back.” Sam was a fixture at The Speak and took his role seriously. When
he opened to door for Grant and I on New Year’s Eve, he didn’t know the change
he was letting in. We took Marco and Telly out, swiftly and silently, leaving
within minutes of our arrival. From that day on, Sam no longer looked at me as
Rico’s punk kid. I had earned his respect and he started referring to me as
‘boss’.

Dante and I walked down the long hallway, past the
living room area which had been converted to a bar during Prohibition. The
hardwood floors creaked under our feet and voices grew louder as we approached
the kitchen. Grant was facing the arched entrance and he looked up as entered
the room. Egan had his back to us and he turned around to see what had caught
Grant’s attention. The light conversation stopped when we walked in. My spot at
the head of the table was open and I shook hands as I moved around to it. Four
men leaned against the kitchen counter and I nodded at them, recognizing them
as bodyguards for Demetrius, Chan, Ji and Egan. Demetrius’ man was big black
guy whose neck was missing, dwarfed underneath layers of muscle. He was easily
six feet tall, but looked taller since he was standing next to Ji’s man, who
while small and wiry, had a fierce temper. Chan’s enforcer had more ink than
plain skin and stood with his tattooed arms crossed over a barrel chest. Egan’s
man had spiked reddish orange hair. A matching beard covered the lower half of
his face and his knuckles showed the signs of a boxer, scabbed and swollen.
Either he was a bare knuckled boxer like Egan, or he used his fists as a
weapon. Since Egan’s second in command was gunned down during one of our
initial meetings, I wasn’t surprised that he brought a more disposable member
of his gang to this one. 

All of these men were packing and Ji’s man had a
large knife strapped to his hip. That was his preferred weapon of choice and
I’d heard he gutted a man from his stomach to throat with one swipe. When I
walked by Miranda I overheard part of the conversation she was having with
Chan. He was asking her about their honeymoon plans. I squeezed her shoulder
and she smiled up at me.

   “How’s married life?” I asked her.

   “Not much different than before, except Grant is
a little more relaxed now that the ceremony is over. We’re looking forward to
our honeymoon. We need a vacation before the baby arrives.”

They were heading to Sihanoukville, a coastal resort
town in Cambodia. Chan knew the owner of a five star hotel there and gave them
a week’s accommodations as a wedding present. One of the advantages with
Cambodia is that if shit did go down stateside, the government didn’t have
extradition arrangements with the U.S.

   “You’re leaving next week, right?”

   “Yes unless you need us here?” she glanced around
the room.

   “Nope,” I reassured her and called everyone to
attention before taking my seat. The table we were sitting at had seen a lot of
meetings and the white Formica surface had been covered in lots of blood, but a
little bit of bleach wiped it clean. While the bar area was more comfortable,
we always met in the kitchen because there was the back door if we needed to
make a quick exit. Also, a secret door along the back wall of the pantry
connected us to the seemingly abandoned row home next door – just in case The
Speak became surrounded. Uncle Marco’s paranoia knew no bounds, but also made
sense.

   “Demetrius, Chan and Ji have more demand than
supply,” I began, using language I learned during an economics class taken
during my brief attempt at college. “Egan, are you having the same issue in the
Northeast?”

   “Yeah, I can always take more product.”

   “Okay, good. Our distributor can’t deliver more,
so I called Gio out in L.A. He has another source and is going to help us out
without any change in terms.” Gio made out well when I negotiated a deal with
him to keep Natalie safe in California as long as I eliminated Marco. His
profit share increased five percent. So if we sold more, he was going to make
more anyway. Plus, he told me he liked Natalie and she had helped Victor, one
of his men out. I didn’t know what to think about that and filed it away to ask
Natalie about later. “We can’t get a new shipment in until next month. Can you
work with that?”

   “Next month? Early, mid, end-of-the month? What
are we talking here?” Demetrius asked. “I got the 40
^th
street gang
biting at my ankles like little bitches trying to get a piece of my action. If
I show any weakness, they’ll encroach on my business.”

   “Stop being a pussy and just eliminate the
competition,” Egan countered. “I’ll bring my boys down and fuck ‘em up. They’ll
leave you alone.”

   “Back off, cracker, I can handle my own shit.” Demetrius
growled, his gray eyes narrowing to slits.

Fucking Malloy, he was always calling someone a
pussy. “Enough,” I said and smacked my hand on the table, wishing I had a
gavel. “Gio is expediting, but it’s a big order that needs to come across the
country. It’s the best we can do. Demetrius, if you start to feel a pinch from
the competition, let us know, we got your back and we’ll squash it.”

   “Aright then.”

   “Now to the next order of business…the Feds have
been sniffing around. They have pictures of us from the wedding and an Agent
Phillips tried to rattle my girl yesterday.”

   “Are you talking about Natalie?” Grant sat up
straighter and he clenched his jaw.

   “Yes, she’s okay and didn’t give him shit. She
has a stubborn streak in case you didn’t notice,” I said with a laugh. “Just
like her brother.” This made Miranda chuckle.

   “This is a heads up to be more cautious out
there. They’re snooping and looking for weak links in our organization and it
wouldn’t surprise me if they’re doing the same to yours.”

   “I know this Phillips guy. He’s been round
before,” Egan said. He gestured towards his enforcer who nodded in
understanding. “We’ll keep our eyes open.”

   “Same here, thanks for letting us know. It’s good
to exchange information like this,” Chan said and Ji, who was a known rival of
Chan’s, agreed.

I promised to let them know when the heroin had arrived
and the meeting ended. Everyone left through the front door under the watchful
gaze of Sam. Miranda, Grant and Dante hung back with me as we still had some
stuff to talk about before the honeymooners left the country. I made a coffee
at the Kuerig machine and sat back down at the table.

   “What the fuck, Dom, why didn’t you tell me about
Nat?” Grant lit into me and I was expecting it.

   “Because it was your first day as a married man
and I didn’t want to interrupt a sex marathon. I handled it, it’s all good.”

   “How is Natalie? Was she freaked?”

   “A little bit, but she handled it better than I
thought she would. Did something happen in California?”

   “Not that she told me. Why?”

   “Just a feeling. I think she almost let something
slip, but caught herself.”

   “Well, did you ask her?”

   “No. We’re not there yet.” I drained the last of
the coffee and leaned back in my chair, running a hand through my hair.

   “What does that mean?” Miranda shook her head in
confusion. “You called her your girl, Dom.”

   “She always will be. We’re working through some
things and I don’t want to pressure her.”

   “Buying her space for a gallery isn’t pressure?”
Miranda teased. She smiled and rested a hand on her stomach. “I’m just sayin’,
we all love Nat, but she went through hell. Give her some time to get used to
how things are different around here now.”

   “I know and I’m trying.” I stood and crossed the
room, setting my dirty mug in the sink.  “You guys know patience isn’t one of
strengths.”

   “Understatement of the year, cuz!” Dante said.
“Impatient, impulsive and…”

I flipped him off and added, “Don’t forget important
- very important.”

   “Oh God,” Miranda said with a roll of her eyes.
“Let’s get out of here before Dom’s ego crowds us out.” I flipped her off too
and she laughed.

We were getting way off track, so I sat back down
and reined everybody in. It was decided that Dante and Joey D. would split
Grant’s responsibilities while he was away with Miranda and I would oversee
operations at Crimson. Everyone knew what their roles were at the club, so it
would be a cake walk.

As we were getting ready to leave, Miranda suggested
I grab Natalie and meet up with her and Grant the next day. “We’re going
shopping n Jersey to do some shopping, maybe get something for the baby’s room.
You should come.”

   “I’ll find out from Nat and let you know.”

Miranda was walking next to me down the hallway when
she gasped. Concerned, I stopped, expecting to find her in pain, but instead
her face was lit up with a brilliant smile and her hand was stretched across
her stomach, which had grown since the week before.

   “What is it?” Grant rushed to her side, pushing
me out of the way. He automatically wrapped an arm around her, pulling her
against him. Miranda looked up at him with glistening eyes. 

   “I just felt the baby move.”

   “You did?” He placed his hand over hers.

   “It was weird; a slight flutter, like I was being
tickled with a feather from the inside.”

   “The quickening isn’t that what the doctor called
it?”

She nodded, her smile growing wider. “It’s early to
experience it at fifteen weeks, but not impossible,” she said.

They stayed like that, tucked against each other,
sharing the moment; looking both bewildered and content. I remembered what a
dick I was to Grant when we first met, how threatened I was by his presence
when he was just trying to figure things out and find his place. Seeing him
with Miranda now, I knew he had figured it out – find that someone to share
your life with and hold on tight because you never knew what was coming at you
next.

Natalie

My cell phone chirped, alerting me to a new text. It
was from Grant letting me know they were waiting out front. I grabbed my bag
and quickly left the hotel room. Dom had called the night before and we made
arrangements to go shopping with Grant and Miranda.

Grant’s car was parked off to the side and I slid
into the backseat behind him. Dominic was sitting next to me, behind Miranda.

   “Hi!” I said and buckled my seatbelt. Miranda
said hi back as she messed around with the radio.

   “Hey,” Dom said. “Did you have a good day
yesterday?”

   “I did – met up with some friends from school for
dinner and drinks.”

   “Any more visits from Agent Phillips?” Grant
asked, making eye contact with me through the rearview mirror. I scowled at
Dominic and he shrugged.

   “No,” I answered.

We drove over the Ben Franklin Bridge to New Jersey
making small talk along the way. I stared out at the glistening river below. A
tug boat was hauling a barge and several other smaller boats left trails of
churned up murky water in their wake. Grant navigated through the mid-day
traffic and we passed run down strip malls, liquor stores and car dealerships,
each one improving as we moved further away from Camden until we were passing a
Land Rover dealership and five star restaurants. The scenery became greener
too, more grass and less concrete. 

Grant parked by the entrance to Nordstrom’s and we
all walked in together. We wandered through various stores, Grant and Miranda
buying all sorts of baby clothes and gear. They had definitely been stuck with
baby fever and after looking at all of the cute miniature shoes, even my uterus
began to ache. It was time to branch off and Dominic agreed so we left,
arranging to meet Grant and Miranda at the food court in an hour.

We stopped by Foot Locker and each picked up a pair
of running sneakers since they were having a buy one get one half off sale. At
checkout, Dom handed cash over to pay for everything.

   “What are you doing?” I asked.

   “Um, paying for the sneakers?”

   “Here,” I tried handing him $30.00 to cover my
share and he refused, turning back to the cashier for his change. “Dom, take
it. I don’t expect you to pay for those.”

   “Too late,” he said with a wink and grabbed the
handles of the shopping bag. He started to leave the store, but I jumped ahead
to stand in front of him.

   “I don’t want you to pay for them. Take the damn
money!” I stood with one hand on my hip and the other extended out, holding the
bills.

   “What’s the big deal? I’ve bought you things
before.” He glared at me, his green eyes narrowed. Other shoppers in the store
looked over in our direction and I knew we were creating a bit of a scene.
Honestly, I was watching my funds now that I was in the final few days of my
trip, but I didn’t want to be dependent on Dom or anyone for that matter.  Soon
I’d be back in L.A. serving drinks at Dirty and making enough to get by. Unless
I took Dom up on his offer of opening a gallery, but even then that required
money and I’d never managed a business, let alone owned one before. The
interview for the teaching position was just that, an interview and not a sure
thing. Either option made me dependent on Dom.

Changing tactics, I loosened my body stance and
softened the tone of my voice. “Please Dom, I need to do this. It’s important
to me.”

He shook his head and groaned. “Fine, I’ll take your
money.” He took the cash out of my hand and stuffed it in the pocket of his
jeans. “God you’re stubborn,” he muttered as we walked out of the store and I
laughed, looping my arm through his.

It was almost time to meet up with Grant and Miranda
so we headed over to the food court. I conceded and let Dom buy me a frozen
yogurt without argument and this caused him to shake his head again. “You’re a
pain in the ass, but a fucking hot pain in the ass,” he teased, smacking me on
the butt as we left the counter. Giggling, I turned to face him, pulling the
spoon slowly out of my mouth after eating a bite. I flicked my tongue out to
snag a drop of yogurt off of my lip. His eyes zeroed in on this movement and
his nostrils flared as he watched.

I loved teasing him because of reactions like this
and I couldn’t stop myself. I wanted Dom, bad, and every time my body came in
contact with his it practically hummed from the attraction. I thought about the
kiss we shared the other day when I wore nothing but a towel and felt my cheeks
flush. Maybe I was fighting a useless fight. My body and my heart knew what it
wanted, yet I resisted. Part of me argued that I was too comfortable around Dom
and that made me complacent. No matter what, inevitably relationships always
ended in hurt whether from death at a ripe old age or a betrayal. I was
reminded of Jason’s attempt at forcing me into a witness protection arrangement
with the FBI and how my first love in high school devastated me when he cheated
on me at a house party then distributed pictures of a portrait he painted,
where I was the nude subject. I still got a plummeting sensation in my stomach
whenever that humiliation resurfaced.

My thoughts were interrupted by a series of loud
pops followed by total chaos. People started screaming and running for the exit
by the food court, trampling over those who had tripped and fallen onto the
white tile floor. I scanned through the crowd of shoppers, searching for Grant
and Miranda. That’s when I saw the gunman. He was slowly and methodically
moving toward the food court. The man was unshaven and had graying hair that
stuck out in all directions like he had been caught in a windstorm. He was
dressed all in black and held a semi-automatic rifle in his arms that he was
firing in a sweeping motion, spraying bullets in a wide swath and mowing people
down as they attempted to run away from him. I froze, my eyes desperately
scanning for Grant. His height usually made him stand out in a crowd.

   “Natalie, move!” Dominic shouted, grabbing my
arm. My frozen yogurt fell to the floor as Dom pushed me behind a pillar. “Stay
here,” he ordered and turned away, dropping to a crouch behind one of the palm
tree like plants surrounding a fountain. He drew his weapon, a hand gun he kept
in a small-of-back holster. I followed his line of sight, where he was aiming
for the gunman, but there were too many people around, preventing him from
getting a clean shot.

Screams of fear and pain were amplified by the high
ceilings, creating a gut wrenching song. Then there were the people who had
been silenced forever. They lay still in pools of blood, their eyes staring
unblinking at the glaring fluorescent lights overhead. I surveyed the food
court looking for Grant and saw people hiding under tables, whimpering and
shaking, strangers trying to comfort one another. Then I caught a glimpse of
lime green, the color of Grant’s shirt. He lay on top of Miranda, shielding her
for the spray off bullets that seemed to be coming from every direction. My
eardrums vibrated with the percussion and I shrieked as a bullet hit the pillar
near my head. Shards stung my face like I had a hundred paper cuts, but I only
worried about my eyes, as I held a hand up to protect them as I watched the
gunman move closer to my brother.

The gun in Dom’s hand caused another layer of panic.
Gunfire and screams echoed off the high ceilings, making my ears ring. I
covered them with my hands and lowered to a squat by the pillar; leaning against
the cold stone chilled me even more. If only I had a gun too, I’d be able to
help. Unfortunately my piece, a gift from Victor, one of the enforcers for the
LA mob, was back in my apartment in California. Dom didn’t know I had been
going to a shooting range with Victor and that I was damn good shot.

Screams were reduced to moans, whimpers, and
children crying. People weren’t running around anymore. They’d either found
refuge or were on the floor bleeding. There were several bodies on the floor
that weren’t moving, but whenever the shooter did spy movement, he blasted a
round of bullets into the body. The gunman moved into Dom’s line of sight and
he finally had his opening. With deadly precision, Dom fired. A decisive bang,
louder than the others brought an end to the rain of gunfire. The shooter
collapsed and his automatic weapon slipped free of his hand clattering to the
tile floor.

An eerie calm fell over the area, the moans and
cries of the injured almost muted under this blanket of silence. Then in fast
forward, reality came crashing down and I became aware of Miranda shrieking.
She was on her back, on the floor near Panda Express, pinned beneath Grant, who
wasn’t moving.

   “Grant!” Miranda screamed. “Somebody help!” Her
voice cracked as she struggled under his dead weight, trying to push him off.
Dead weight? No, no, no. Not Grant. This broke through my shock and I ran over
to my brother. His green t-shirt was soaked with blood and I saw three distinct
holes burned through the fabric on his back.

   “Dominic, I need your help! Someone call 911!” I
know I wasn’t the first to call that out, but I had to feel useful because
otherwise I felt completely useless. 

Dom appeared next to me and crouched down. “He’s
breathing, but barely,” I said. Grant’s lungs had taken on a whistle as he
struggled to inhale like he had emphysema. Dominic rolled Grant off of Miranda
who was beyond hysterical and covered in her husband’s blood; something a
newlywed of three days shouldn’t experience. Her face was flushed with exertion
and tears streamed down her cheeks, mixing with blood splatter, turning them a
pinkish hue.  She was holding her abdomen as she curled over Grant, seizing his
hand, her knuckles turned white from the death grip.  

Grant’s skin had taken on an ashy pallor and his
breathing had become more erratic, long gaps between breathes left me counting
the seconds, almost like if I was tracking contractions.

   “Only two of the wounds are through and through,”
Dom said.

   “What does that mean?” I ask, trying to console
Miranda.

   “It means he still has a bullet in his body.”

Grant exhaled weakly and a trail of blood trickled
out from his mouth. He didn’t take another breath. “Shit!” Dom checked Grant’s
pulse and looked up at me. “Do you know CPR?” I shook my head.

At that moment, a symphony of sirens outside
announced the arrival of help. First responders poured into the food court; a
sea of navy blue and fluorescent yellow.

Dominic called out to them for assistance. I noticed
a few people pointing in our direction and two officers approached us. I
expected them to help and was surprised when they hauled Dominic to his feet. They
immediately confiscated his firearm, sealing into an evidence bag.

   “Do you have a license to carry in the state of
New Jersey?” One of the officers asked.

   “No, but I do for Pennsylvania,” Dom answered.

   “Sorry son, that doesn’t transfer to our state. I
hate to do it, but you’re under arrest for illegal possession of a firearm.”
The officers spun Dominic around and read him his rights as he was handcuffed.

   “What are you doing?” I screamed at the officers.
“He didn’t do this, he ended it!” I secretly hoped that this tragedy had
nothing to do with us.

   “Nat, don’t,” Dom said, his stern tone cutting
right through my burgeoning hysteria. “Stay with your brother and call Dante.
Tell him what happened, he’ll know what to do. Don’t worry about me.”

I hesitated, torn between rectifying an injustice
and helping Grant. “Natalie, go,” Dom said and I was grateful for his ability
to remain calm during an unraveling situation. Turning back to Grant, I saw
that three EMTs were already attending to him. One was attempting to
resuscitate while another threaded an IV and yet another tended to Grant’s
wounds, focusing on slowing the bleeding. Miranda stood off the side watching,
her arms crossed over her midsection as tears continued to fall.  I
crossed the crime scene to stand next to her and we clasped hands, gripping
tight to each other. Seconds seemed like minutes as we waited for the heart
monitor to show signs of life. Grant’s chest rose and fell, but not on its own
accord, only through the EMT’s efforts.

Finally, after excruciating moments, there was a
blip on the monitor and then another. I exhaled with relief, not realizing I
had been holding my breath.  Miranda gasped and reached for my hand,
giving it a squeeze before doubling over.

   “Miranda! What’s wrong?”

Color drained from her face and her eyes became wide
green circles. “The baby!”

Sweet Jesus, was the building going to collapse
next? Another EMT rushed over to Miranda. I turned around for Dominic and saw
him being led through the double doors of the exit next to Taco Bell, his hands
secured behind his back, silver handcuffs gleaming from the overhead
fluorescent lights.

The one female EMT who had been treating Grant’s
wounds approached me. “Ma’am, are you related to him?” she asked, gesturing at
my brother, who was being moved onto a stretcher.

   “Yes, I’m his sister and she’s my sister-in-law.”
Another stretcher was being wheeled towards Miranda.

   “Who do you want to ride with? We can’t take them
both in one ambulance.”