Page 45 of Working for the Mob

The hum of the delivery van threatened to lull me asleep. No light reflected off the overcast sky. No moon to light my path. No stars in the sky. Just the two headlights on the dark road ahead. The van’s headlights only lit the immediate road in front of me, with dark branches and dried leaves scraping the vehicle’s hull as I drove by.

Henry drove a few minutes behind me. Close enough to help. Far away enough to avoid the trap I was about to spring.

As I passed every curve, every building, every large tree, I couldn’t help but clench. I expected an attack around every corner. I fingered my gun in its holster for comfort. sat in my holster

Once I put this cross-town war behind me, I could put more time into ridding myself of Genevieve. I could find her a new place to rent, one I didn’t own. And a new job. Then I wouldn’t be expected to stick my nose into all of her problems.

Signs foretold a sharp bend in the road and I held my breath. I took my foot off the gas and swung the car around the curve with my eyes peeled on the shoulder. A steep incline ran along the right shoulder, with a ditch to the left. A perfect place to ambush a driver.

My heartbeat shot up and I wondered whether I made a mistake. What if I wasn’t able to aim from the van? I felt like a sitting duck. I swallowed down a thick wad of spit––I had never been used as bait before.

Out of all of Lance’s ideas, I hated this one the most. Ever since we were kids, he expected me to jump when he said ‘jump’ and I was sick of it. Our father drilled that in him. The same way he drilled me with shooting exercises.

After this war I wanted to turn my back on him and leave town. But I could never do something like that to Lannington. I ran the city. With Lance left unchecked, I didn’t know what would happen to it.

The van’s headlights flashed on a sign that read “Max. weight: 5,000 pounds.” I had no idea how much my van weighed, but I hoped it was less than 5,000 pounds. I sped up without a hitch, and took another curve. I saw them too late.

A line of spikes laid across the road, and I drove right over them with two loud pops. The vehicle jerked and I lost control.

I fell onto the driver’s door and my head hit the windshield. Pain exploded across my forehead and cheek. Broken glass rained on me and voices called out.

Voices called out and gunfire opened on the van. Glass exploded around me. I pulled the gun out of my waistband, but I couldn’t see anyone through the darkness. If I tried to reach out of the car, they’d shoot me instantly.

This is it,a voice said in the back of my head.This is the end.

Disoriented, I felt for my revolver. Right where I left it.

But I was in no position to fire any shots. The van had flipped on its side and I couldn’t see out of the cabin. I was in a jam.

More gunshots and shouts came from outside of the van’s cabin, but the bullets no longer rained on the vehicle. Hurried footsteps through the underbrush indicated signs that they were moving.

Henry must have arrived. Damn kid followed me closer than I told him too. I definitely needed to give him a raise.

I took the opportunity to climb through the shards of windshield to the passenger side. The Valuncias moved through the dark thicket of trees across the road. Their firing barrels lit up like beacons through the forest, giving away their positions. I counted four of them. One of them was yelling orders from the back in an urgent voice.

They weren’t even facing me. They must’ve assumed I was already dead.

I didn’t hesitate. It was instinctual, automatic, instantaneous. My father had put a gun in my hands at the age of four and I was able to shoot a bird out of the sky by seven. Dark figures in the forest––their bodies were targets much bigger than I was used to.

The hammer of my revolver smacked down six times and four thumps hit the undergrowth of the forest.

“Art, is that you?” Henry called out.

“Yeah, it’s me,” I said, and walked over to where the ambushers fell.

“You okay?” Henry asked me.

I had cut above my left eyebrow and the right side of my face felt like it had been punched. “Fine. You?”

“Fine.”

I nodded.

I walked up to the body in the back, the one who had been yelling orders. He lay face down on a bed of crunchy leaves, with a pool of blood underneath him.

I flipped the body with my toe and Henry shined his flashlight on the face of Darrel Valuncia.

“Do you think it’s over?” Henry asked me. “Do you think the Valuncias will back down now?”

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