Chapter 1
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Dario Caraldi
“This is the police. Put down your weapons,” a sharp voice rings out over a police loudhailer. The thudding sound above is becoming louder and louder. Around me, dark shapes are darting into shadows, avoiding the blinding lights of the helicopters overhead.
“Dario!” I hear Raoul’s voice ring out. “Bro…we gotta get outta here, man. This thing’s been compromised!”
I aim a look at where Eduardo is still slumped back against the wall. Blood has seeped through the fabric of his pants from the holes I’ve left in his thighs. It’s pooling beneath him on the dark paving. He’s grinning at me like a madman.
“Ask him why, cousin,” he sneers, though his face is twisted in pain. “Go ahead…ask him why…”
A fresh volley of gunfire has surged as cop cars suddenly converge. Pouring in from every avenue leading up to the original exchange point. The Russians aren’t showing any signs of backing off, however. I watch as figures scurry among the vehicles in the area.
A burly man stands to begin firing at the occupants of one of the police cars. He peppers the side of the squad car with a hail of bullets. But it’s his final stand. A shot catches him below the chin. He goes down, a fine pink mist erupting before the shell bursts through the back of his head and showers the area with gore.
“Goddammit, Dario!” Raoul is insistent. He’s emerged from the shelter of a nearby warehouse wall and is moving hastily toward us. A dash to the car nearby is followed by a tuck and roll that brings him up several feet away. He throws a malevolent glare at our cousin and then locks eyes at me. “Come on, man. We gotta fucking go!”
“This is the police!” the voice above us repeats. “Put down your weapons and come out with your hands up!” The chopper overhead is swooping around us. I hear another crackle of gunfire and realize someone is firing at the giant bird. Eduardo’s fucking Russian connections have a take-no-prisoners attitude that’s going to get everyone here killed in a hurry.
The attack prompts a staccato chatter of machine-gun fire from the hovering craft. The man on the ground goes down in the rain of gunfire, but others take up his position. Each round of bullets brings up a fresh wave of screams from the occupants of the containers.
“Hold your fire!” I hear a voice shout out. “We have civilians!” It’s Mateo. He’s exchanging words with them. There’s no doubt in my mind. But I don’t want to believe it. I can’t. There’s been too fucking much between us, goddammit.
I whip a look at Raoul, whose expression speaks volumes.
“Is it…?” I begin, my voice ringing out strangely as the gunfire eases down. He shakes his head but not in denial. I have no doubt he’s as shattered as I am. Pure disbelief surges through me. “I can’t…I can’t…” I clench my jaw.
“Believe it?” Eduardo says mockingly. “Oh, buddy, you’d better believe it. He sold you out. Been playing you for years.” He laughs mirthlessly.
“Shut the fuck up!” I roar at him. The sound is met with silence. And then footsteps are thundering in our direction.
“Jesus, Dario,” Raoul’s voice has raised an octave. “There’s a car ‘round back. We gotta go, for fuck’s sakes!” He’s already looking in that direction, prepped to bolt. I know he doesn’t want to leave me here. But I’m not giving him a lot of options. I swing my head from Eduardo back to the direction of all the activity.
“Dario!” another voice now.
Fucking Mateo.
I turn on him with my weapon raised, taking aim at the center of his forehead. He stops short, both hands in the air. He’s ditched the assault rifle somewhere along the line and has a handgun in his grip. I narrow my eyes.
“Dario…it’s not what you think!” he says sharply.
“Oh, really?” I say coldly. “So, you didn’t just drag the cops into a scene that you knew we’d be working? You didn’t spend the past seven years digging yourself into my fucking business?”
“No!” he stops. “I…you don’t understand,” he trails off, then moves his arm to rub his wrist over his forehead. His pistol wavers.
“Keep your goddamn hands where I can seem them, motherfucker!” I yell. He straightens abruptly. Beside me, Eduardo is laughing. God, I wish I’d aimed for his chest and not his legs. “Drop the piece,” I snarl at Mateo. Raoul is watching us carefully, although not so much that he isn’t flashing glances at where the Russians are still going to war with the cops. Mateo dips his knees, not breaking eye contact as he sinks his hands low enough to drop the gun on the ground. He rises again with just as much care, stopping once we’re both facing each other.
“Dario,” he says, “please let me explain…”
“Explain what?” I should blow his head clean off his shoulders. “That you’re a rat? A fucking traitor?” Every inch of me is taut with rage. My finger twitching near the trigger. But I can’t do it.
Why the fuck can’t I do it?
“Dario, Jesus,please, man!” Raoul is backing up towards me, arms outstretched as he sights his weapon on a spot where shouts are growing louder. As much as I hate these fuckers, the Russians are the only thing holding the cops at bay. But that’s a tenuous barrier. Lights are sweeping wildly. More sirens are screaming to join the mayhem.
“I didn’t want this. I swear it to you, Dario,” Mateo’s voice is firm but placating. “I tried to steer you clear.” His eyes dart to Raoul as he speaks. It’s not just me he has to convince now. The kid’s bumped against my back. He knows better than to elbow me while I’m aiming a loaded weapon at a man’s face, but the message is clear.
