Page 2 of Deadly Sins: Greed

In unison, Marcelo and Luca sang, “Yes, please!”

Giovanni eased the car onto the street, heading to Gelateria Cremeria, a gelato shop a few miles away. He’d driven down the road and made a turn before noticing a sedan trailing close behind. As dusk spread across the night sky like the slip of a glove over a naked hand, the sedan’s headlights beamed through the Ford’s back window. The driver was following close—too close for Giovanni’s liking—especially considering he had two young boys in the car.

Unwilling to increase his speed to accommodate the other driver, Giovanni rolled his window down and stuck a hand out, waving the vehicle on by. The gesture failed to produce the results he wanted, and the sedan remained close, hovering as if to prove a point. Keeping one hand steady on the steering wheel, Giovanni slid the other inside his suit pocket, wrapping his fingers around his gun. He assumed the other vehicle’s passengers were more of a nuisance than a threat, but in his line of work, one could never be too cautious.

Marcelo came to his knees, turning around in his seat. He pointed through the slim, rectangular back window. “Why are their lights so bright, Papa?”

“Never mind that, Marcelo. Turn around. Sit back in your seat.”

What he couldn’t ask was for Marcelo to strap on a seatbelt, as seatbelts didn’t exist in cars from that decade.

Veering away from the route he usually took, Giovanni swerved, turning onto a quiet side street a few blocks away where there were a series of vacant lots for sale. The sedan would have no other reason to take the same turn. And yet it did.

Giovanni removed his hand off his gun for a moment and reached for his cell phone, pressing a single digit. The call was answered on the first ring.

“Falcon, I’m on Danbury Lane,” Giovanni said. “Marcelo and Luca are with me. We have company. I don’t know who they are or what they want. I need you and Salvadore to—”

Before he could finish his sentence, a polished, black Mercedes Maybach pulled alongside, its window tint so dark it offered no visibility to the interior of the vehicle. The driver’s-side window came down, revealing a single man in the vehicle. He didn’t seem familiar. The man aimed a gun at Giovanni, his lips curling into a nefarious grin. It was a look Giovanni recognized, a look he himself had made before. A look that said:Checkmate.

Gripping his own gun, his thoughts turned to the boys.

“Luca and Marcelo, get on the floor,” he ordered. “Cover your eyes and stay down until I tell you to get up. Understand?”

Luca nodded, immediately sliding off the seat. Marcelo froze, tears streaming down his face. “I’m scared, Papa.”

“Do as I say, Marcelo. Right now.”

Giovanni cranked on the wheel, rounded the cul-de-sac at the end of the street, and then stepped on the gas, taking the car as fast as it would go. With the Ford’s maximum speed topping out at sixty-five miles per hour, it was no match for a car that went from zero to sixty in five seconds.

Questions surged through his mind.

Who was this man?

Why was he targeting him?

And more importantly, the driver had the opportunity of a clear shot. Why hadn’t he taken it?

Giovanni made it back to the top of the street before the Mercedes swerved, pulling alongside once again. This time Giovanni was ready. He steadied his gun, exchanging gunfire with the driver. The Mercedes skidded off the road, face-planting into a nearby tree, slamming the man’s head onto the steering wheel.

Giovanni thrust the car into gear, preparing to speed away. “Boys, are you all right?”

Marcelo made a grunting sound. Luca made no sound at all.

“Boys, talk to me. Are you okay?”

Still no movement.

Giovanni placed a hand on Marcelo’s limp shoulder, then turned his palm upward in disbelief.

Blood.

Lots of blood.

But it wasn’t Marcelo’s. It had dripped onto Marcelo’s shoulder from Luca’s neck.

No.

No, it couldn’t be.

---