At Peace

Fucking hell.

He scrolled down to Sal’s number in his phone and he hit go.

*

“You think you mighta wanted to tell me this shit when you saw the woman climb into that car?” Sal asked Benny who was on his phone.

“You made this mess. Do you think I was fired up to call you in to clean it up?” Benny asked back.

Fuck, but only Benito Bianchi would speak to him that way. Even Cal had respect. Benny played the game before his brother bought it, since then he didn’t give a fuck.

The fucking Bianchis. Always a pain in his fucking ass.

“I was in Indiana, Sal, what were you gonna do?” Benny went on.

“Get fuckin’ organized,” Sal snapped into the phone then ordered, “stand down.”

“He’s been in there the length of this call and they’ve also got some girl. Blood on both of them, Sal, she didn’t look too good. I’m goin’ in,” Benny told him.

“The cops and Feds just left my house. They want this. Bad. Let me call them so they can get boys on it,” Sal demanded.

“They need to hurry. I’m goin’ in,” Benny returned.

“Benny,” Sal said to a dead phone.

He flipped it shut and had trouble catching Vinnie’s eyes. He didn’t need to look at his cousin to know that he was barely keeping his cool and his seat.

He was saved having to say anything when his phone rang and he saw on the display it was Frankie.

He flipped it open. “Amata, now’s not the time.”

“Cal’s woman is at Hart’s house,” she informed him and Sal went still.

“How do you know that?” Sal asked.

“Because I’m –”

She didn’t finish. Instead she let out a small scream and the line went dead.





Chapter Twenty-One


Bare Feet





Cal watched the goon toss Lindy aside, she hit the floor and went skidding, leaving a trail of blood.

He stood, silent and still, his eyes moving from Lindy to lock on both the boys who had them. They were in good shape, lean and fit. Neither as big as Cal nor nearly as tall and one was so lean he was almost slight. Could mean he was wily, could mean Cal had lucked out.

His hands were behind his back in plastic restraints that they put on too fucking tight and they’d done it because they were pissed after the gunfight and pissed he’d taken down two of their boys but they were clearly following orders so they hadn’t taken him out with a bullet to the brain at the scene. During the ride the restraints had dug in deep, rubbed raw, breaking the skin.

He had bullet grazes to his right hip and just below his left shoulder. They both had bled a lot but the bleeding had stopped and the nagging pain was easy to ignore.

This was because his mind was focused on three things. He needed to get out of this alive. He needed to get Lindy out of this alive. And he needed to find Vi and take her home to her girls.

How he was going to do all of that weaponless and with his hands tied behind his back, he had no fucking clue.

Why he was still alive, again, he had no fucking clue. The only thing he could figure was that Hart wanted to play with him.

Not good.

“On your knees,” one of them ordered, Cal stared at him and didn’t speak nor did he move. “Knees!” the man shouted, his eyes narrowing, jaw tight, lips puckering, giving it away.

He had the gun and Cal was in restraints but Cal intimidated him. He wasn’t wily. He’d survived a gunfight where Cal took down two of his comrades. He was pissed and he was scared. He knew Cal wasn’t going to make it easy and he wanted to get this done.

Cal’s eyes went to Lindy. They’d shot her in the thigh which was the reason they both were there.

No, that wasn’t the reason they were there. He’d shot two men dead, clearing a path for her to get away and he’d ordered her out the backdoor while he was providing cover.

She instead went to the safe, grabbed a gun and tried to join the fight, not about to leave Cal behind with four armed men in the office, all of them firing, two men already down and Cal having suffered two graze wounds that looked a lot worse than they really were, though she didn’t know that.

Then they got her before they got Cal and put a bullet in her thigh then lifted the gun to her temple.

Then they got Cal.

The woman was a glorified receptionist and a bookkeeper but she was also the daughter of a decorated marine who had three sons, one daughter. It was made clear that day that Lindy’s Dad didn’t sexually discriminate when it came to life lessons.

Semper fuckin’ fi.

After he assured she was going to leave this building breathing, he paid the co-pay for her on her hospital visit and he knew she’d walk again, he was going to fire her ass.

“Knees!” the man shouted again, he came at Cal and it was now or fucking never. If he got to his knees, he’d get a bullet to the brain.

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