Page 60 of His Dark Vendetta

Thunder rumbled, a distant menace. It had been overcast all day, but by dusk, the clouds darkened. The air was thick with the static of an impending storm. It was only a matter of time.

I rubbed my knee, extended it, then bent it, trying to get some blood flow into the aching joint. I’d always thought people were full of shit when they said they could feel the cold and damp in their joints but tonight had me thinking maybe I was wrong.

The thing about superhuman healing is that it doesn’t work like the movies. Blood demons couldn’t be torn to shreds, twisted and broken, and then, magically, the pieces fall back into their rightful places. The laws of physics didn’t take a break because we were a different species. Tissue self-healed, for the most part. It regenerated and knitted itself back together without leaving scars. But bones and joints? The more complicated pieces of hardware? Not so easy.

Vinnie’s doctor realigned the joints and set my kneecaps in the warehouse, but the right one hadn’t healed properly. Something was off. It weakened my knee and caused a hitch in my step. A little souvenir from Vinnie Valenzano’s warehouse of horrors.

I glanced at my watch. Just past eleven thirty. Second shift started at eleven. Any minute now.

“You sure it was a good idea leaving your girl at The Dollhouse?” Dominic asked, watching the darkness behind us through the rearview mirror.

“She’s not my girl. And no, but I didn’t have another option.”

“I mean…” He eyed me sidelong. “You could let her go.”

“And you could mind your own business.”

He huffed. “You’re my capo, Luca, but you were my friend first.” He adjusted the mirror. “We’ve known each other since we were kids. I’m just lookin’ out.”

Dominic’s mom and Gina were tight, always organizing shit at the Italian American Community Club when we were kids. Dom and I spent a lot of time getting into trouble while they planned their next fundraiser or potluck. Then I moved to Italy. But we never lost the easy camaraderie that came from growing up together.

“You don’t hear me telling you what to do with Mia,” I said.

He shot me a surprised look but quickly schooled his features and resumed monitoring the mirror. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.

I snorted. “Right.”

“Besides, I didn’t kidnap Mia. Non lo so, fratello. Doesn’t seem like holding a girl hostage is gonna end well for anyone.”

Thunder clapped. Loud. Closer. I scanned the windshield. Nothing. But it was coming.

Living with Siobhán was like living inside a powder keg. The sexual tension and barely contained hostility created an incendiary situation that would explode in my face if I wasn’t careful. Tomorrow I’d start in with the questions, maybe feed her a little bullshit first to prime the pump. And as long as I stuck to my plan, everything would work out. At least, for me.

“Here we go,” Dominic said and threw the car into gear.

Semi headlights appeared in the passenger-side mirror. I looked over my shoulder through the rear windshield. The cab was full-sized and red. “Wait for confirmation.”

The truck rumbled toward us on the otherwise empty highway. The cab’s logo—a fat white circle with yellow letters that readFISHER—sped past us in a blur.

“That’s our guy,” I said. “Let’s move.”

Dom flipped on the headlights and accelerated onto the turnpike.

We approached the van where Mikey and Leo waited. Dom flashed the headlights. They turned theirs on and pulled onto the Pike behind us, two miles out from the truck’s planned exit. Mikey drifted into the passing lane and picked up speed. He crept past us and the semi before merging back into the driving lane.

Fat rain droplets blurred the bright green reflection off the exit sign a quarter mile ahead of the off-ramp. My blood pumped faster. Adrenaline drove my lungs and turned my eyes. I channeled the power to hone my focus.

A half-million dollars. A half-million dollars and the Moretti family reputation.

We escorted the unsuspecting semi off the ramp through the quickening rain and onto an empty industrial-park thoroughfare. The stoplights flashed red. A single car passed in the opposite direction at the second intersection. We pulled forward, heading for the third set of lights.

Rain pelted the windshield. No cars in either direction.

I hit the call button on my phone. It connected after one ring. “Do it,” I ordered and clicked off.

The van stopped at the blinking red lights. The semi followed suit. Dom stopped the U-Haul. I unbuckled my seat belt.

The semi’s horn blared. I jumped out of the passenger seat, pulled out my Glock, and cut between the U-Haul and the semi. Mikey threw the van in reverse. It hit the front of the semi’s cab, pinning it in place.

---