Mobster's Fate

Chapter 1 (unedited)

Alex

The slice of the bullet whizzing through the air knocked me on my ass. A hit to the shoulder. Fuck!

Carlo rushes to my side. "Alex!" He yanks me forward and I suck in air through my teeth. "It's clean; it went straight through." Relief visibly washes through him. Carlo bounces up from where we are hidden behind the car and fires three shots;

Boom

Boom

Boom!

He crouches back down beside me huffing. "Get in," he orders. "They're running."

I stay low, open the door using my good arm and climbing into the back. The slippery wetness of my blood coats the cold black leather seats. My heart thumps with adrenaline.

"Alex? You good?" Carlo has made his way into the driver's seat.

"Yeah," I choke out as pain shoots down my arm. I clutch it with the palm of my hand.

"We're going to a hospital! Hang on!" Carlo is tapping the screen on his phone and a disembodied voice resonates in the cabin of the car.

Turn right at Summer Street. In point four miles, turn left on Essex.

Carlo weaves and bobs, the car is going fast. His phone is talking, guiding him through the New Jersey streets.

"Damn runners!" He curses swerving the car rocking me back and forth on my wound.

"Fuck," I moan, the tendons in my arm stinging.

The runner, Leo was headed for a shit load of trouble. I had it up to my eyeballs in this bullshit. He needs to pay up.

"Stay with me, Alex Moretti!" Carlo is tense.

"Is it me or did you think you saw Caesar?" I ask against the burning fire in my shoulder.

"I saw him. That mother fucker!" The car takes a sharp turn and I have trouble keeping myself immobile against the seat.

"I'm sorry." I tell him, mad with myself. I blame this whole thing on me. I fucked up!

If I didn't take one in the shoulder, we could have snagged those two guys, collected, and screwed the fuck out of here headed back to Chicago.

The Caruso family cleaner defecting has fucked up absolutely everything. Carlo's pop, Ennio, needs to find a new one and fast. There is only so much shit Carlo and I can do, destroying evidence and chopping up bodies takes a lot of time and talent. The cleaner is an important part of the operation and not knowing who it is keeps the family and associates loyal. I hate to see people get too comfortable.

Meryl's face flits across my mind burned into my memory, and I use my good arm to cover my face. The pain in my heart hurts more than the pain in my shoulder.

She up and left.

No call, no trace... she took off. I have never wanted anyone in my life. This ache is intolerable and constantly ripping through me more brutally at the oddest times.

I have to get back to Chicago. I need to retrace her steps, figure out where she went. I have some of our guys doing some recon to search for her but nothing has turned up. It's strange. We find people. It's what we do. Half of the people that borrow money from the Mob Boss run. Tracking them down is part of the job.

Carlo screeches to a halt next to vehicles that I can see from my reclined position that resembles ambulances. The door by my feet flies open. I lift my head and Carlo is right there with two women wearing scrubs and name badges.

"Slide him out...slowly," Carlo commands, ordering around people who do this shit for a living. Fingers wrap around my ankles and tug on me freeing me from the backseat of the car. Dizziness radiates throughout my body. I hate this weak feeling.

One of the nurses is asking Carlo questions. He is being very nice; he is snapping at them. An oxygen mask is slipped over my face; another takes a pair of scissors and cuts my shirt off my body in the parking lot.

"How bad is it?" Carlo prompts uneasy. An EMT is pressing white gauze against the wound and the white is turning red instantaneously as I lose more blood. Even debilitated, I beat myself up mentally. The blue sky is above me and I study it feeling helpless. I hate being weak.

I let Carlo down.

I fucked up!

"Sir, step back please." Carlo shifts away.

I'm jabbed with a needle and a bag is hung over my head. A blood pressure cuff is squeezing my good arm. The staff is neutral when they speak. It is as if using any sort of modulation of their voices is going to give something away.

"Sir, can you hear me?" A nurse with no makeup and a ponytail that swings behind her head when she lowers herself to talk to me asks. Her eyes are searching mine.

I nod because the freakin' plastic thing is on my face prohibits me from talking. Damn it!

"We are rolling you inside now," she informs me.

The stretcher bounces across the asphalt, and I am rolled through the doors into a cubicle created by brown plastic curtains.

"I need a bag of A negative." The aid flies out of the room.

Spots dance in front of my eyes. I'm going to pass out, images of Meryl flash before me and my last thought is she left me and I'm never going to see her again.