As my pace picks up, so do the steps behind me.
Someone's clearly following me.
Tracking me.
There’s nothing to listen to on this empty street other than our echoing steps and my anxious breath. The smacking of his shoes against the pavement resonates loud in my ears. The click of my heels is nothing compared to the thudding from whoever the fuck is back there. It has to be a man. The sound is too damn heavy to belong to anyone under 200 pounds.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
The Romanos. No. No, I refuse to believe they’d come this close to the restaurant. It’s all in my head. I can’t lose my chance at freedom so quickly. Maybe it’s a Rossi. The thought should give me comfort, but it does the very opposite.
I’m too nervous to look back. In the movies, when people look behind themselves, that’s when they have to start running. As soon as they glance back. They run, or they die. Even though in most cases running doesn’t save them anyway.
I’m not fucking stupid; if I started running, I wouldn’t make it one minute before he caught me. At least right now whoever it is back there is keeping some distance. For now…
I tell myself over and over, maybe he’s not following me. I still have a possibility at freedom. He’s just walking to his car. Or maybe he’s just walking to his house or a bar at the other end of this street. But after a few blocks, the sound of him following me is unbearable. There’s not much on this street. The lone gas station is closed down, and there isn’t another building for a few blocks. Everything’s run down and empty. My heart rate picks up as the reality sets in. He’s here to take the bait.
A bad man is behind me, I know that much. Maybe it’s the Romanos, like my father wanted. Like he planned.
Even if he’s not from the Romanos, these streets are filled with bad men late at night.
If the stranger behind me had good intentions, he would’ve said something by now. There’s no way in hell he’s not following me. At some point he’ll get closer. He’ll gain more speed than what I have, and then I’ll have to run. But I’m definitely going to make him work for it. If he wants to put his hands on me, then he’s going to have to catch me first. And then fight me. I’m not going to be a good little victim. I’ll do everything possible to scratch his eyes out before I give in.
I try to steady my breath, but it’s so fucking cold out, just breathing hurts.
The man shadowing me is all I can think about. I didn’t even pay attention when I turned the corner down the alley.
* * *
I was so consumed by what was behind me, I didn’t see who was right in front of me until it was too late.
Chapter 4
Gio
* * *
The Green Parrot is crowded as usual. It’s a popular place in a shit neighborhood on the South Side of Chicago. We come here all the time to meet with potential clients, but usually it’s just to pick up payments.
Tonight, the stakes are higher. I sit at a table with my father, a glass of whisky in my hand while he puffs away on his cigar. I take a long sip and glance at him.
“Let me do the talking,” I say.
“Why?” he grunts.
“Because I’ll be the one doing the job.” My voice is hard, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
“Doesn’t matter. I’m the elder here. They came to me.”
“No,” I say, trying to keep my annoyance under control. “If you want to do the talking, you can do the killing.”
He looks at me, eyebrows raised. “That how it is now?”
I stare back at him, but we both know I’m bluffing. My father may be a piece of shit asshole, but I owe him everything. He’s still family, even if sometimes I wish he wasn’t. Without him, my darkness would have consumed me a long, long time ago. But at the same time, it’s because of him that it’s even there.
I don’t have a chance to respond because up toward the front of the bar, the doors open and grab my attention. In walks Marco Romano, the second-in-command, and second most important man in the entire familia, followed by Alex and Angelo, two of my cousins. They’re there for muscle and show, but they aren’t necessary.
Nobody would dare touch Marco. He has the full weight of the Romano familia behind him, and any dumb fuck that came at him would invite the wrath of the whole fucking mob down on his head. They’d go for his family and torture them all in front of him and then kill him. The Romanos don’t fuck around.
