Scarlett and the Feds

Scarlett and the Feds

By

S. L. Baker

To my husband Paul, You are my soul mate who inspires and motivates me every day. Thanks for having my back and being my rock. I love you!

To Mom for always encouraging me to achieve my dreams.

M
y body surrendered to the trauma of the last few hours. Luke lay passed out in a pool of his blood with only nine fingers, and I had a target on my back — put there by the Godfather of the East Coast Mob. I collapsed into Victor’s arms; even the smelling salts Scarlett, my badass alter ego, fished out of her purse didn’t work. I drifted between the two worlds of consciousness and un-consciousness. I felt myself floating and realized Victor was carrying me in his arms. I tried to muster enough strength to form Luke’s name. I pointed in his direction desperate to tell Victor to help Luke first. Victor sensed my urgency.

“Baby, it’s okay. You’ll be fine.”

“Luke,” I said, garbled, but coherent coming out of my blood caked lips.

“Hawke will get him. Let me just make sure you’re safe first. Then we get you both to a doctor,” Victor said as he placed me in the back seat of the Escalade.

I watched Hawke re-appear from the building carrying Luke’s badly beaten body over his shoulder and laid him in the very back of the Escalade. Luke was still out cold.

“Is he breathing?” I asked, my voice barley a decibel higher than a whisper.

“Yes!”

“His finger, we need to get it so it can be re-attached.” I was frantic, fumbling with the door handle trying to get out. “I dropped it on my way out, it’s wrapped in a piece of my blouse.”

“Stay here,” Victor ordered. “You’re in no shape to be walking. Hawke will get it.”

I watched Hawke disappear back into the building.

Hawke returned with the bloody shred of my shirt, the finger wrapped inside, and handed it to him. Both stood immersed in deep conversation. I tried to fumble with the window control so I could hear, but I need the key.

“Fucking Cadillac,”
Scarlett mumbled being less than patient with the window control, smacking it with her shoe. I stopped her short of smashing the window with her stiletto.

Hawke nodded, handed Victor the keys, and bolted back inside the building.

Victor slid in the driver’s seat and started the Escalade. He glanced in the rear view at me as he put the Escalade in gear.

“What about the bodies?” I cringed asking the question.

“Hawke will take care of them.” His tone was cold, harsh.

Both Scarlett and I knew they would vanish in traditional Mob fashion, and no-one would ask any questions.

Scarlett shuddered as she imagined the men being dismantled. Their teeth pulled out one at a time, placed in a small bag, and tossed in the Passaic River, any hair shaved off and burned. What was left of the bodies would be driven to some remote farm and fed to the hogs. 

I never wanted to know, and still didn’t, but my suspicions led me to believe the same ritual was carried out with my attacker that night in the alley a few months ago. The disposal of a body like they never existed was a sheer talent of the Mob, their trademark. The thought sent chills racing through my body and the pit of my stomach felt like I had been kicked in the gut by a horse.

“We need to get him to a hospital,” I said, wincing. My head felt like it was about to explode.

Scarlett rummaged through her purse looking for some morphine. Her heart was racing as fast as mine was. She wasn’t happy, she mumbled,
“Fucking Mob!”
under her breath. I wish she’d hurry and find the damn morphine. The pain was getting unbearable.

“No hospital. What are we supposed to tell them, Angelina? That you both were abducted and tortured by the Mob? That would unleash a huge shit storm.”

“He needs a doctor,” I snapped.

“And so do you. I have a family friend who’s a physician. He’ll meet us at my house and take care of you both.” Victor yanked out his phone and scrolled down to he found the number and hit send.

“Of course you do,” I mumbled under my breath. Scarlett had her arms folded and was tapping her foot. Why was she was not surprised?

Victor was in the middle of explaining the situation to the doctor on his family’s payroll when I heard Luke gurgle in the back like he was choking on his own blood. I unbuckled my seat belt and, with my body screaming at the top of its lungs in protest, scrambled over the top of the seat to check on him. I had to make sure he was breathing. I crawled next to him, rubbing his arm to comfort him. Silent tears ran down his cheek, those brilliant green eyes flooded with fear and anger. He gurgled, coughed, and passed out again. I gasped for an instant thinking he was dead. I placed two fingers on his neck and felt his pulse. He was still alive…for the moment.

“Drive faster!” I screamed.

Scarlett hopped in Victor’s lap and slammed her foot on the accelerator. If she could have pushed him out of her way, she would have.
“Let me drive,”
she grumbled under her breath.

Victor snapped the phone shut and pounded the accelerator. A silver Mercedes was waiting when we sped into the driveway. A tall athletic man in his late fifties with a receding hair line rushed out with Cooper and Donovan who flung open the door to the Escalade. They tried pulling me out first, but I protested and grabbed the edge of the seat, refusing to move.

“Luke first, he’s in bad shape!” I screamed.

The doctor and the goons carried Luke inside. Victor scooped me up like a child in his arms. Kissing the top of my head, he gently brought me into the house and laid me on the couch.

Scarlett fluffed the pillows behind my back and took my pulse.

“How’s Luke?”

“I’ll check,” Victor replied, not hiding the concern in his voice.

“His finger, where is it?” I asked.

Victor bolted out the front door to grab it from the Escalade. He glanced at me on his way by to give the finger to the Doctor. I tried to get up off the couch and the pain radiated throughout my body. I let out a loud enough groan to bring Victor running.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Victor asked placing his hand on my thigh. My sweet spot sputtered like an engine trying to come to life. Even in pain, the man could make me weak kneed from his touch.

“I want to see Luke,” I said, trying to push myself off the couch.

“Not right now. Doc is trying to re-attach his finger. You need to rest,” he said while pushing me back on the couch.

Ignoring Victor, I tried one more futile attempt with Scarlett pulling my arms to help. Victor promptly picked me up and cradled me in his lap deterring my attempt.

“You are staying put until Doc checks you out. Understand?”

I nodded, ‘yes’ in defeat.

“Good girl,” he said, gently stroking my hair as he pulled me close to his chest.

My thoughts flashed to how devastated Ella would be if she saw her son at that very moment. I struggled to hold back tears. The trauma and terror of the last few hours, witnessing three men die in cold blood and the brutality of it all, was just too much and came crashing down on me.

Victor sat silent. His expression hard and calculated, his thoughts were elsewhere. Plotting his revenge, I suspected. Scarlett had the flip chart set up and was writing down her own devious plan. I fought the urge to close my eyes, but failed.

Luke, Curran and I were riding our bikes around the neighborhood laughing. In the distance we heard the faint sounds of carnival music playing and knew in an instant what was coming, that jingle got louder and closer, the ice cream truck. Luke rode his bike as fast as possible back to the house, grabbed two dollars, and then race back to us. The older man who drove the white, ice cream truck waited patiently for us to decided, but we always got the same thing each time. Luke had a chocolate fudgesicle, Curran and I got the ice cream sandwiches. Greedily tearing the wrappers off, we devoured our treat sitting on the curb
.

I woke up, not knowing how much time had passed, or even if Luke was dead or alive. I tried to dart up and was stopped by Victor and the Doctor. There was an I.V. in my left arm, and I was in one of my night gowns. I turned my head scanning the room for Luke.

“Luke?” My eyes filled with tears. “…is he okay?”

“Angelina, I’m Doctor Mayer. Luke is resting. He has suffered some severe bruising and three broken ribs. I was unable to attach his finger. I’m sorry. He will recover, but it will take some time to heal. You had a laceration above your right eye that I stitched up. The good news is that there will not be a scar. You have some bruising, but will be fine. You need to stay in bed for a few days and rest.”

I nodded, tears welling up in my eyes again. I felt terrible about Luke’s finger.

Scarlett flipped through the pages of her dirty joke book, hoping to cheer me up, but threw it the corner and opted for Plan B, ice cream and lots of it.

Doctor Mayer unhooked the I.V. and I winced when the needle came out. He gently patted my arm and stopped to talk to Victor as he walked out the door. I turned away from them as the tears flowed down my cheeks. Victor rushed to my side and held my head against his chest. Wiping my tears away, he gently kissed my cheek. 

My emotions had been hit by a tsunami of what was coming. This wasn’t over. It was just the beginning. I was a marked woman. We both knew that. I had no control over my fate and that terrified me. I trusted Victor with every fiber of my being, but the mere thought of Victor taking a bullet with my name engraved on it was overwhelming. I couldn’t even fathom that thought.

Scarlett whipped out her measuring tape, to fit us both for bullet proof vests.

I wasn’t convinced that they would be enough. This was the
Mob.
They were invincible. I buried my head deeper into Victor’s chest and sobbed violently, my body rebelled against the pain, but I didn’t care. It would pale in comparison to what I imagined was in store for me and those I loved. Victor’s body was rigid, tension etched on his gorgeous features. I knew he was worried, but would never let me know that.

“We can’t stay in Jersey, Victor. We need to lay low until this blows over,” I said in between sobs.

“Blows over? This is the
Mob,
Angelina, it doesn’t work that way. It’s cut and dry. It doesn’t matter where we go. My father will hunt us down, but not without leaving a trail of bodies, starting with Nicole, your aunt and Luke, and anyone else that has any connection to you.”

The panic in his voice sent my emotions into over drive.

He was in crisis mode. “We are the safest here for now. That book is our only protection at the moment. As long as you have it, they will keep you alive.”

“Then what? I can’t imagine watching someone else I love be tortured. I will cave and hand over the book. Then I’m dead.” The hopelessness of the situation was overwhelming.

“That’s not going to happen. There is no way in fucking hell anyone will ever hurt you again. I will not ever allow that to happen.”