Page 47 of Salvation

The cabin is old and sparsely furnished. There is no electricity out here. Cheap candles are set haphazardly atop the wood of the cabin’s decrepit furnishing to provide us with a small measure of light. The candles flicker as they burn, filling the room with soot, while the wax drips and pools. The air is heavy and oppressive as the heat from the night, the burning candles, and the enclosed space seems to thicken by the second. The whole place looks, and smells, like it’s milliseconds away from collapse. I opt not to sit on any of the worn furniture for fear of what might be living in the dusty cushions.

Everything in me is disgusted. But keeping my features schooled, as I’m accustomed to doing to keep from giving anything away, I watch the young man, who calls himself, “Scott Stevens,” standing near a worn and gouged counter, gesture to a crystal decanter. It’s so out of place in the ramshackle cabin I almost want to laugh.

I don’t though. Every nerve in my body is on high alert. Something in the air is off. Max feels it, too. Looking over at me, he catches my eye. His eyes convey his every thought. They match mine.

Something is going down tonight. I don’t know what it is, but I intend to be one of the people to walk out of this cabin alive. I plan on taking Max with me. He has a family to get home to.

The man tips his own drink back and after sighing as it goes down, he smiles at me. “Would you care for a drink, Mr. DeLucca?” He glances at my men quickly. “Would any of you?”

Shaking my head, I decline his offer. “No, thank you.” Then, adjusting my cufflinks, I glance around the cabin, not bothering to hide my revulsion. “Nice place to ask me to meet you. You shouldn’t have gone all out like this.”

His eyes flash at my insult, but he manages to shield the reaction, not quickly enough to hide his rage at my words though. “I do apologize. I wanted somewhere out of the way where I wouldn’t have to worry about being watched or interrupted. One can never be too careful in our business.”

I simply regard him coolly, giving nothing away, before responding flatly. “On the contrary, this is my business. We have no business as of now. The whole purpose of this meeting is to determine if I choose to work with you. You see, I am very careful with whom I associate with.” I inspect him from head to toe disdainfully. “After all, I do have to be cautious. I am a very powerful man. A man many have tested over the years. All of failed in their endeavors.” A small smile crosses my face as I think back on all those foolish enough to try to cross me.

“So shall we commence with the meeting?”

Gritting his teeth so harshly, I’m surprised they don’t chip, he smiles coldly. “Yes. Let’s get down to business.” Turning away from me, he walks over to the fireplace. It’s almost 100 degrees outside and even more sweltering in the swamp, so it’s unlit. It also looks as if it, along with the rest of this fire hazard, hasn’t been used in a very long time.

Max deftly signals to me that he’s carefully watching the man’s hands and he also uses our secret movements to signal the men stationed around the room to be diligent. The man has an entourage of his own and my men are even matched in number. Counting him, he has six men stationed around the perimeter of this tiny room. Between the lot of us, the room is practically bursting at the seams.

My men are stationed between the door and where we stand as was previously discussed. His men are standing shoulder to shoulder with my own and the tension in the air is so thick it could be cut with a knife.

The cabin is rancid. The stale smell is musty with an underlying hint of decay... As if it could slide into the swamp and be reclaimed at any minute.

We all just wait. Finally, the man drains his drink and sets the empty glass on the mantle. He turns back to the room and claps his hands. He looks around as if he’s making certain all eyes are on him, like a performer. Once he’s satisfied they are, he smiles. “Very good, Mr. DeLucca. I’m in need of a large supply of guns and drugs. I plan on ruling the Northern Louisiana market.” My brows arch as he pauses for dramatic effect. “I’ve already taken care of anyone who thought to interject at my authority and have no further resistance.

“I’m young, but I’m determined. I will become the king of the realm and I’d like to sustain that power by aligning myself with you…” He looks at his hands, inspecting his manicured nails as though he’s bored with the conversation before staring straight at me. His eyes flash. They are the eyes of a mad man. He confirms that observation with his next words. “However, I don’t need you. I’m fully prepared to overtake your reign within a few months. I have the manpower and the money, and it will be a fairly easy feat. This meeting is merely a gentleman’s courtesy.”

My hackles rise and my hands itch to brandish my gun and shoot this smug son of a bitch in the middle of the forehead, but I push back the rage and instead regard him coolly. “Is that so…

“I can assure you that no matter what misinformation you’ve received, taking me out will be no easy feat.” Stepping toward him, I see his men jerk upright at the movement from the corner of my eye. His eyes widen but he doesn’t flinch. I give him small kudos of respect for that. My own men move their hands inconspicuously, but I know that at the slightest signal, from myself or Max, their guns will be in their hands and bullets will start flying. Taking another step, I stop just in front of him; the lapels of our jackets are touching I’m so close to him. Reaching around him, making sure to encroach in his space, I remove his discarded glass from the mantle and bring it to my nose. Inhaling deeply, I allow the scent of the expensive alcohol to penetrate my nostrils before saying, “Ah, Evan Williams. You have fantastic taste in bourbon.” Letting go of it, the glass shatters as it hits the floor. Stepping back slightly to prevent the shards from spraying my feet, I watch for his reaction. His eyes bulge and a vein pops out on his forehead and neck as I slowly say, “I have several cases at home myself.”

Leaning over him, I flick a speck of imaginary lint from his tailored pinstriped suit. He does flinch slightly at the touch. I smile coldly into his face. “Now, back to our discussion… I don’t take kindly to threats, Mr. Antoinette.” His eyes widen at my use of his given name, and I smile again. Broader this time. This is the smile that terrifies most people. Its effect is instantaneous as he visibly stiffens and flicks his gaze over my shoulder. I continue to make him conscious of my power. “Yes. I’m aware of who you are.

“In fact, I know everything there is to know about you. Where you went to high school… the name of your first girlfriend… your fraternity… where your parent’s gravesites are…” I lean in and he instinctively leans back.

Checkmate.

“I know that your money comes from casinos… and that your only surviving relative, your grandfather, disowned you after that little incident with the woman you assaulted in college… I even know about the time you were picked up at thirteen with your miniscule cock in your hand outside of the mayor’s wife’s bedroom window…”

“There is nothing I don’t know. I’m a very smart and resourceful man. Don’t ever underestimate me, Mr. Antoinette. Men much older and wiser than you have tried to best me, though,” my hands widen to encompass myself and the men surrounding the room, “none have.

“I’m the king of this empire and no spoiled little boy born with a silver spoon in his mouth is going to come into my territory and disrespect me…” Glancing at my nails, mimicking his insult from earlier, I look at him to make certain he caught it. He does. His face is turning a deep mottled purple, veins are pulsing in his forehead and neck, and his nostrils are flaring. His rage is palpable. Giving him away. A poker player he is not.

Reaching into his waistband, he hastily pulls out a revolver, pointing it at my chest, though his hand is visibly shaking. Immediately my men draw on him. Max has one gun trained on him and another on one of his men.

Everyone except me is brandishing at least one gun. Mr. Antoinette pokes the barrel of his gun into my chest and snarls, “You won’t leave here, Gabrial. It’s high time you learn to respect your betters.

“You’re trash. You think you’re respected because of who you are now… you’re not. You’re nothing. You’re the byproduct of a druggie gang banger and a whore…

“I did my research, too. Your parents are the scum of the earth and you… you are nothing…” He smiles manically and I can see in his eyes that he is, in fact, completely deranged. That alone makes him dangerous. Actual crazy is unpredictable. Reaching out quicker that he anticipated, I slam my palm into his gun hand. He’s caught off guard from the move and his arm jerks to the left, though he manages to maintain his grip on his weapon.

We fight for control of the gun. I slam my forehead into his and he falters slightly, losing his balance and falling backwards. In a rage, with blind panic displayed on his face, he pulls the trigger. His face is contorted into a mask of insanity and his eyes are wild. Manic. Fire shoots down my arm as the bullet pierces my shoulder and rips through tendons, before burying itself deep in the muscle. Intense pain travels the length of my arm, and my fingers immediately tingle.

The sound of multiple blasts echoes in the room and the smell of gunpowder and blood fills the air. Thick smoke engulfs the cabin as weapons are fired. Candles are knocked over in the firefight. I can’t see my men and I have no idea who’s firing at whom.

My arm is screaming, but I know that I have to get the weapon away from the lunatic who just shot me. In fifteen years, I’ve never been shot, and I’ll be damned if this trivial nobody takes me down.

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