Endings & Beginnings (New Mafia Trilogy #3) (34 page)

DOMINIC

PHILADELPHIA

The plane touched down and I had all of my carry-on
shit gathered before we reached the gate. I was up and moving as soon as the
door was open, before the fasten seatbelt light had been turned off.

   “Sir, you can’t leave yet!” The flight attendant
called after me because I had shouldered past her. It was too late, I was
already gone. Leo was waiting at baggage claim and he gave me a fist bump when
I approached.

   “Yo, good to see ya, man!” he said. “Dante’s out
front waiting for ya. Go I’ll wait for your bag.”

I barely heard the last part as I made my way to the
exit. Hot, swampy air engulfed me the second I stepped outside and I coughed at
the thick layer of exhaust fumes from the idling cars and shuttles. Dante
flashed his lights and I hurried over to his Escalade.

   “Let’s go,” I ordered as soon as I slid inside.
Dante pulled out, cutting off a taxi. The driver laid on his horn and Dante
flipped him off. It was five minute drive on 95 before we were pulling onto
Passyunk Avenue and just a few minutes after that we arrived at Vinnie’s Auto
Body. Dante parked in the back and we hopped out. Vinnie was waiting for us and
tossed Dante keys. “Grant and Joey D. are inside,” he said.

We followed him inside his garage which was
strangely quiet. During the day a crew of at least fifteen mechanics swarmed
the place and machines whined as they worked on cars. Only half of the
fluorescent lights were on and cars were cloaked in shadows. Vinnie gestured
toward a maroon mini-van with Delaware plates. It screamed soccer mom right
down to the decal on the back window indicating the family consisted of a mom,
dad, two boys, two girls and two dogs. “Your chariot awaits.”

Grant and Joey D. rose from chairs in the customer
waiting area, each had a Styrofoam cup of coffee in their hands. We hugged
before getting into the van and Grant handed me my gun.

   “Are you sure about this, Dom?” Dante asked.

   “Yeah, I’m sure. Let’s end this thing.”

Joey D. put the van in drive and pulled out of the
garage. It was almost three in the morning and the streets were quiet. This was
good because what we were about to do needed to be done without any witnesses.

***

Joey D. slowed down and drove by our destination. A
few lights were on inside and three cars were in the parking lot along with two
Harleys. They were parked right out front, but the rest of the lot was empty. After
driving past, Joey sped up and per my instructions, parked down the street
under the canopy of a large oak tree. The street lights didn’t break through
the foliage, helping to conceal the van in shadows.

After checking our weapons and securing suppressors
to the muzzles, we stepped out of the van and made our way back to the
building. I was aware that there were cameras outside and knew their locations.
Four faint pops later, the cameras were toast. We rushed up the stairs, I tried
the door, but it was locked. It took one bullet to disable the lock and then we
were inside our weapons at the ready as we didn’t know what to expect. As soon
I crossed the threshold a shot was fired at me and the bullet ricocheted of the
cinderblock wall. Crouching down, I turned in the direction of the shooter and
saw someone disappear around the corner at the end of the hallway. Movement to
the left indicated another potential shooter was hovering just inside the
doorway that led to the pub. I whispered this to Joey and he bolted out from
behind me, sprinting down the hall like a track star. Before I could blink he
dove into the doorway. We ran out after him towards the sounds of grunting. A
familiar click caused the struggle to come to an immediate stop. Upon entering
the bar, I noticed Joey D. had a man pinned. The man’s face wasn’t recognizable
underneath all of the blood; it’s source a broken nose and busted lip. Another
man stood over Joey with a gun pointed at his head. I surveyed to room to see
Egan sitting at a booth with a shit eating grin on his face.

Without hesitation I shot the man holding the gun on
Joey and he collapsed. This wiped the smile off of Egan’s face.

   “So it’s going to be like that?” he yelled.

   “Yeah, it fucking is.” I helped Joey up of the
ground after he cold-cocked the man he had pinned, rendering him unconscious. 

There were three other men in the room, plus the
fourth who was still somewhere in the building. There could be more, that
remained to be seen. Grant had gone off in pursuit of the first shooter and he
appeared in the doorway seconds later. He nodded at me, letting me know that
situation had been handled. Egan saw this exchange and stood up, cracking his
scabbed and swollen knuckles. He wasn’t armed, but his men all had their gun
trained on us and we on them.

   “Da fuck, Dom? You come into my house,
unprovoked, and start killing my men? We’re supposed to be business partners.”

   “Why’d you do it?” I asked him.

   “Do what?”

   “You know what.”

   “Oh, that,” Egan laughed and started walking
towards me. I gripped my gun tighter and narrowed my eyes. He stopped a few
feet away from me and grinned. I’d seen the maniacal expression before when he
was in the ring and had drawn first blood. “Do you remember that shooting when
we first agreed to your business deal?”

   “When your second was killed? Yeah, I remember.”

   “He was my fucking brother-in-law. Michael was
married to my sister and she was six months pregnant when he was killed by your
family.”

Egan had never shared this information with me
before. Not that it mattered. “And you got your revenge when you killed Big
Tone,” I said.

   “That wasn’t nearly enough,” he growled. “My
sister sank into a depression after Michael’s death and tried to kill herself
in March. She survived, but the baby didn’t. My sister hasn’t been the same
since – I can’t even trust her with a pair of scissors.”

He shifted and I followed his movements with my gun,
ready to pull the trigger. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

Egan snorted and flexed his neck muscles, rolling
his head until something popped. He ignored my apology. “You don’t understand
family. I thought all you Italian bastards did, but you killed your uncle.
That’s some stone cold shit. Then like a disease, you destroy my family.”

He took a step forward and then another while
clenching and unclenching his fists. With his flattened nose, cracked lip and
black eye, he did look menacing and while I knew his fists could do some
damage, I was holding a gun and I could hold my own in a fight. We were the
same size, same build and had the same purpose. Despite what Egan thought,
family meant everything to me and I was not going to let any harm come to mine.

   “So you tried to set me up, keep the Feds on my
ass,” I said, luring Egan back into conversation.

   “It was so easy too. Except when I put the order
out on Agent Phillips, I didn’t know you were out of town. Bad timing there.”

   “So the drop, where Anthony and Demetrius’ guy
were killed, that was you too?”

Egan’s grin confirmed my suspicion. A faint pop
sounded from behind and something rushed past my ear right before Egan’s head
blew out and he fell backwards from the force. It felt like slow motion when I
spun around to see Joey lowering his Glock right before chaos erupted in the
form of gunfire as Egan’s men opened up on us.

Dropping and rolling under a table for a more
defensive position, I started returning fire. I took out one of Egan’s
enforcers at the knees. When he landed on his side, he took aim, but I ended it
before he could get off a shot.

It didn’t take long to come to an end. My ears were
ringing and my black shirt was covered in dust and splinters; miniature shrapnel
created when bullets hit the wooden tables and booths. Grant held a gun to the
last of Egan’s men who had already handed his weapon over. He wasn’t a big guy
and had more tattoos than body fat. The ink on the left side of his neck stood
out; a four-leaf shamrock that had blood dripping from the stem.

   “What your name?” I asked. The guy glared at me
and refused to answer. I nodded at Grant and he whipped his gun across the
guy’s face, breaking open the skin above his cheekbone. I asked him his name again
and this time he answered.

   “Mike. Mike Lynch.”

   “Alright, Mike,” I said, looking around the pub
at the bodies on the floor. Egan was clearly dead and I spotted his second Aidan
lying in a pool of blood near the entrance, his eyes were open and already had
the cloudy vacant stare of the deceased. The man Joey had cold-cocked earlier
had regained consciousness and was slumped over in a chair, bloody drool
hanging off of his swollen bottom lip, staining the white wife beater he was
wearing. “Who is next in line to be in charge? I want to talk to him.”

Mike glanced around at the bodies, his face draining
of color as he took in the carnage. He swallowed heavily and when he turned
back to face me his eyes were watery. “That would be me. Everyone else is
dead.”         

   “We need to talk.” I stepped around a chair that
had been knocked over and broken glass crunched underfoot. The big flat screen
TVs were still on. ESPN was recapping that night’s Phillies game. Grant kept a
grip on Mike’s arm and led him over to a booth on the other side of the pub.
This hadn’t suffered any damage and was away from the dead bodies. Joey D. had
a grip on the other guy and he shoved him into the booth, sliding in after him.

   “O’Doyle, are you okay?” Mike asked.

   “I’m alibe,” he responded, his swollen lip made
it hard to speak and he sounded like he had a head cold.

Dante ducked behind the bar and emerged with a
bottle of Glendalough 13 Year Old Single Malt Irish Whiskey. Egan did keep a
nice top shelf selection. He brought this to the table with enough glasses for
everyone then he went back and grabbed a bar towel. He wrapped some ice up in
it and handed it to O’Doyle; a peace offering of sorts.

   “Mike do you want to pick up the torch of Egan’s grudge
or do you want to stay alive and make some money?”

Mike slammed back his whiskey and refilled his glass
with an unsteady hand. “I want to stay alive. I can manage the H, that
infrastructure is in place, but this here,” he gestured at the bar, “and the
BNB was Egan’s show. I don’t know have a fucking clue how I’m going to manage
that.”

   “I think we can work something out. Running bars
is what my family does.” And that’s how I became a silent partner in a K&A
Gang business, securing a foothold for the Grabano’s in the Northeast. As a
goodwill gesture, I called in our clean-up crew to dispose of the bodies. Right
before leaving, Mike and I shook hands, sealing the deal.

The sun was beginning to rise on our drive back to
the city and Vinnie’s garage was humming with activity when we dropped the van
off. Dante drove me to my condo. I opened the front door and noticed my
suitcase was propped against the kitchen island. Leo was stretched out on my
sofa, snoring away; his gun on the coffee table. Some security he was since he
didn’t hear me enter the condo. I chuckled and walked down the hall to my
bedroom without experiencing the usual pang of loneliness from Natalie’s
absence because I knew she would be home soon. With everything right in the
world again, I crawled into bed and slept like the dead.

Natalie

LOS
ANGELES

Dominic’s sudden return to Philadelphia left behind
a lot of unanswered questions like, where was I going to live? I didn’t want to
assume that we’d pick right up where we left off and I’d move in with him.

   “What do you mean, you’re going to look for an
apartment?” he asked when I brought the subject up. He had called me his first
day back in Philly. “I was planning on you living with me.”

   “Oh, you were?”

   “Well yeah, I kind of like having you around. And
I really love waking up next to you,” he said and my stomach quivered in
response to the suggestive tone of his voice. It was like I was fifteen again a
guy I had been crushing on first talked to me.

   “Are you sure? I don’t want to be a burden.”

   “Baby, you’re my girlfriend and this is as much
your place as it is mine. It’s been so empty without you.”

   “Okay, I’ll move in with you, but only if you
promise to cook for me every once in a while,” I teased.

   “Deal.”

Cutting ties in Los Angeles was harder than I
thought it would be, especially when I gave my two-week notice at Dirty. Callie
got choked up when I told her I was leaving for good, but she understood.
Claiming she recognized the signs of true love, she insisted I follow my heart.

Chelsea came over to help me with the grant application
since I only had three days to draft a business plan to accompany the
application, but I finally submitted it the day of the deadline. Time slowed to
a crawl as I waited to hear whether I’d been selected as a recipient or not and
I stalked my email waiting for the response. The confirmation email said it
could take up to a month; guaranteeing the two recipients would definitely hear
by July 31
^st
.

One of the advantages to having a month-to-month
lease was that all I needed to do was give a thirty-day notice so in between
stalking my email and working, I packed. Chelsea stopped in and helped herself
to items I wasn’t taking with me. She boxed up plates, silverware, and glasses.

   “What about the futon?” I asked her.

   “You’re not taking it?”

I shook my head and we both stared at the one piece
of furniture we’d had since our freshman year in college. I’d replaced the
mattress and cover after Victor had bled all over it, but the frame was the
same and had survived years of abuse. Chelsea didn’t have space for it in her
home. My bed and all the other furniture wasn’t coming with me back to
Philadelphia. The plan was for Dominic to fly out and we’d drive cross country
in my car, towing a small trailer. Aside from clothes, books, DVDs and linens,
the flat screen TV was the only thing I intended to keep. Chelsea suggested I
donate everything to a battered women’s shelter and so that’s what I did,
scheduling for everything to be picked up before noon on the day Dominic and I
were to begin our journey east.

The end of the July was rapidly approaching and I’d
yet to hear anything on the grant. The day before Dominic was set to fly in, my
phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number and almost ignored it, but decided to
answer at the last minute.

   “Miss Ross?”

   “Yes, who’s this?”

   “This is Carol Schmitt with the University of the
Arts Alumni Office and I have a few questions about your application.”

A sinking sensation settled in my stomach as worst
case scenarios, all of them resulting in me being denied, ran through my head.
“Okay…”

   “It says here that you already have a space for
your proposed gallery. Can you tell me about this arrangement?”

I told her about the arrangement I had with Grabano Enterprises
where the rent started out low and increased each year over a five year term. The
utility deposits were already taken care of and a low security deposit of one
month’s rent made up the bulk of the start-up capital. I explained to her my
plan to work with students at the university to display their art for a
commission. She really liked the fact that I was going to hire another alumnus
as my manager.

   “This is a very detailed and well thought out
business plan, Natalie,” Carol said after I answered her questions. “One of the
better applications I’ve seen,” she added. I held my breath and crossed my
fingers, praying in my head for her to approve the grant.

   “Congratulations. I’m going to approve your
application and will send a follow-up email. Is this the right bank account
number for us to wire the funds into?” She read off the bank name, account and
the accurate routing number. 

   “Yes. That’s correct. Are you serious? Is this
for real?” I didn’t bother controlling the excitement in my voice.

Carol chuckled and congratulated me again before
ending the call. After she hung up, I stood there in the middle of the living
room with my mouth hanging open. Holy shit, I was the owner of an art gallery!

I immediately texted Grant and swore him to secrecy.
I wanted to tell Dominic in person. When I called Jillian to give her the news
and officially hire her as assistant manager, she squealed so loud my ear rang
for a few minutes after. My mom was just as excited and offered to help with
painting and whatever I needed to get the gallery ready. Knowing Chelsea was at
work, I texted her and she immediately called me, shrieking and carrying on
like she had won the lottery. I decided both she and Jillian needed to chill on
their caffeine intake.

Since it was my last night in L.A., Chelsea stayed
over, showing up at my door with a celebratory sausage and mushroom pizza and
six-pack of beer. We sat down on the futon and Chelsea raised a bottle in the
air.

   “To new beginnings,” she said and we tapped our
bottles of beer together. We talked until after two in the morning about life
and love. She made me promise to be out for her wedding at least a week before
the big day. I promised then we both drifted off to sleep next to each other in
my bed.

The next day I was up at the crack of dawn. Pure
excitement woke me up. Chelsea was still asleep so I went for a run to burn off
the nervous energy. When I returned, I had enough time to shower before leaving
to pick Dom up at the airport. Chelsea was awake when I got out of the
bathroom.

   “You’re going to be here when I get back, right?”
I asked her. She was sitting cross legged on the bed with a cup of coffee
watching me comb out my wet hair.

   “Yes and I’ll let Victor in if he gets here
before you do. We went over this last night.”

   “I know, just making sure,” I smiled at her and
she rolled her eyes.

   “You’re not excited or anything,” she teased,
taking a sip of her coffee.

I was excited and it showed on my speedometer as I
had to ease off the gas pedal several times. Finally, LAX was in sight and then
I was parking at the lot near arrivals and baggage claim. When I got inside, I
learned that Dom’s flight was delayed by twenty minutes. I paced and looked at
the time, paced some more and looked at the time, which had slowed down to an
agonizing crawl. The arrivals board updated, indicating Dom’s plane had finally
landed so I took up a post at the bottom of the escalator and waited. Paparazzi
were hovering nearby awaiting some celebrity like a pack of hungry hyena, but I
ignored them. Dom appeared at the top of the escalator and our eyes locked. His
face lit up in a brilliant smile that matched mine. He wore a mint green tee
shirt that clung to his muscular frame and made his olive skin seem darker. His
hair was a mess, but sexy. I licked my lips in anticipation.

As soon as he was off the escalator, I was in his
arms. Our five minute marathon kiss was not appreciated by the people who had
to move around us. The paparazzi did appreciate a good reunion and even though
we weren’t famous they snapped a few pictures.

   “God, I fucking missed you,” Dom said when we
separated. He bent down and picked up his duffle bag that he had dropped at his
feet when he got off the escalator.

   “Me too, you have no idea.” We held hands and Dom
pushed through the crowd in order to get to the exit.

Once we were on the freeway and zipping toward my apartment,
I told him the news.

   “Yes! I knew you’d get it. Congratulations,
baby!” He was still holding my hand and raised it to his lips, planting a soft
kiss on the back. “You’re going to kick ass too.”

We stopped on the way home and picked up a small
U-Haul trailer. It took a little longer than planned as a hitch had to be
installed on my car. By the time we got to my apartment complex, Victor was
already there and he brought Jimmy along.

   “Jimmy! What are you doing here? You should be
home with the baby,” I admonished him.

   “I can’t stay long, but wanted to say goodbye,”
he said.

Having Dom, Victor and Jimmy there to help, the
trailer was loaded quickly. A box truck with the women’s shelter logo pulled up
and they helped the two volunteers move the heavy furniture. Jimmy left,
following the box truck out.

After a quick wipe down of surfaces and a thorough vacuuming,
the apartment was clean. It was time to turn in the keys go.

   “Stay in touch, Princess,” Victor said and pulled
me into a sweaty hug. “And you guys take care of each other. You give this
player hope, ya know?” he kissed my cheek and released me before giving Dom a
hug.

Chelsea was next and we stared at each other with
tears in our eyes. She threw herself against me and I was engulfed in a bone
crushing hug. We held each other and cried, promising to call, text, email,
Facebook and Snapchat daily. Sniffling, I pulled away and Dominic comforted me
by placing an arm around my shoulders. “I love you, Chels.”

   “I love you, Nat.”

   “Best friends forever?”

   “Always.”

Fresh tears spilled and I wiped them away before
sliding into the passenger seat. Dom shut the door and walked around to the
driver’s side. He got in and turned to me.

   “Ready?” he asked.

   “Yes. Let’s go home.”

He put the car in drive and pulled away. I didn’t
look back.