The Mafia’s Obsession

Alessio

I’ve only just managed to stop the bleeding when Dominguez meets me outside of Rite Aid. “Jesus, what happened to your ear?”

“It’s nothing. Can’t even feel it.”

“It looks pretty bad.”

“You should have seen the other guy.”

“I assume the other guy was Maroney?”

“Yeah. Trust me, he looks worse.”

We get into Dominguez’s car. He takes my bag of first-aid supplies and starts dressing my ear. “What happened?”

“It was a setup. He had a gun stashed, almost got me with it. Had somebody on the inside at the carnival.”

“And nobody saw youkill him?”

“It was on the Ferris wheel.”

“You rode the Ferris wheel with him?”

“I’m not saying it was my brightest idea.”

Dominguez chuckles darkly, taping a big wad of gauze over my ear. “Well, I guess it worked out. No need to wonder where we stand with the Maroney crew.”

I clench my fist, trying not to wince. Thank god the ibuprofen is kicking in. “Do you have any trouble with his boys on the way out?”

He shakes his head. “They never saw it coming. This is going to draw attention, you know. Multiple killings at an amusement park.”

“Good. It can stand as a warning.”

“What do you want to do about Maroney’s gang? Some of them might roll over now, but his brother Declan is going to want revenge. He’ll be in charge now with Colin gone.”

“We’re taking out Declan. Tonight.”

Dominguez raises his eyebrows. “Man, remind me never to piss you off. You sure you don’t want to go home and rest that ear?”

“Tonight. Before the dust has settled. We’re cutting off the head and the neck.”

***

Flashing blue and red lights greet us as we pull up outside Declan Maroney’s house. Ordinarily, pulling off a hit in a neighborhood like this would be far too dangerous to consider. But I called in a favor for this one.

“You got a warrant?” comes a loud voice from the front door. A uniformed police officer stands on the doorstep, says something, then enters the house. Dominguez and I wait in the front seat of his car, warming our hands with the hot air blowing from the heater.

A few minutes later, the cop comes out, this time dragging a handcuffed man wearing sweats and a familiar shock of red hair.

“I’ll be out of there in no time!” Declan Maroney barks. “You got nothing on me!”

The officer doesn’t take Declan to his patrol car, pulling him instead to our vehicle parked right behind it. I make eye contact with Dominguez and we get out.

“What are you doing?” The Irish mobster starts to panic. “What the fuck is going on?”

“One more word and you’re getting tasered,” growls the cop. He turns to me. “Nobody’s going to find him, right? I don’t want this coming back to bite me in the ass.”

I shake my head. “Don’t worry about it. If anything gets found, it will be far from here, and it won’t be identifiable.”

“Okay. No offense, but I’m getting the fuck out of here.”

“I appreciate this, Paul. You’re going to like your Christmas bonus this year, trust me.”

Declan takes this opportunity to make a run for it. Immediately, Paul pulls his taser and shoots him in the back. The barbs pierce his sweatshirt and he collapses, twitching.

Dominguez smirks. “Good shooting, officer.”

Paul shakes his head, then gets into his patrol car and drives off.

I glance down at Declan Maroney as he twitches on the ground, then back at my friend. “Okay, let’s get him in the car.”

Ayla

My morning starts in a hotel room in Boise, Idaho. The place is nice enough, at least. Not that I intend to stay here. I grab breakfast at the Denny’s across the street, then find a hardware store on my phone and take an Uber there.

An employee greets me as I enter, a kind-looking older fellow. “Good day, ma’am. Looking for anything in particular?”

“Uh, yeah. Can you recommend a good pair of bolt cutters?”

He gestures for me to follow him. “Oh, yeah, definitely. What do you need to cut through? Wire? Rebar?”

My fingers play with the metal collar, hidden by my turtleneck. “Maybe… something in between?”

He stops midway down an aisle and points. “Well, here’s your bolt cutters. We’ve got big and small, all depends on what kind of project you’re doing.”

“Thanks,” I say, picking one off the shelf that seems to be the right size. “I think this one will do.”

***

Alessio© 2024 Nôv/el/Dram/a.Org.

I sit down at an airport bar, waiting for my flight.

I’m on my way to Boise.

With Colin Maroney and his brother both out of the way, I feel confident that the danger has passed. I put Sal in charge of mopping things up while I’m out of town, with Dominguez as his number two.

It’s time to get my wife back.

Obsessively, I check Ayla’s location on my phone for about the seventh time today. She went out for breakfast earlier and did some shopping, and now she’s back in her hotel room. Perfect. I’ll be with her by nightfall as long as my flight doesn’t get delayed.

A news report from the TV in the corner catches my ear:”Thanks, Dave. I’m standing now outside the Bover City Carnival, which is closed today after scenes of shocking violence erupted last night. Authorities are now confirming multiple execution-style shootings, which are believed to be the result of gang activity. We can confirm that 43-year-old Colin Maroney, alleged leader of the Maroney Gang, is among the victims…”

“You know I was just there?” says the guy next to me, nursing his beer. “Two days ago. Came there with my kids, won some stuffed animals playing carnival games. Can’t believe what happened.”

I sip my soda water. “Yeah, it’s something,” I agree. “I was there recently, too.”

***

When my plane lands in Boise, the first thing I do is check Ayla’s location. I’m pleased to see that she’s still in her hotel room. I head straight there from the airport, eager to see her. The whole time, I’m practicing what I’m going to say to her. How I’m going to apologize.

I need her to know that I married her becauseIwanted it. That ever since I met her, I haven’t been the same. That whenever I look at her, my heart feels like it’s going to burst.

It won’t be easy to admit any of that. I never have before. To anyone.

But she’s worth it. She’s worth facing my fear, accepting the risk of loss, of pain.

She’s worth everything I’ve done. And everything I’mgoingto do.

I booked her room for two, of course. And I reserved it with my credit card, which means all I have to do is go to the front office and ask for a key. I take the elevator, walk through the hallway, over the ugly carpet, and pause in front of her door.

We haven’t been apart for very long, but it feels like years.

I knock.

No answer.

After a minute, I knock again. Still nothing. Is there a light coming from under the door? It’s hard to tell.

Okay, well, that’s what the key is for. I slide the card into the slot, wait for the green light to flash, and open the door.

The room is empty. But I swear I just checked her location. Baffled, I pull out my phone, open the app, and stare at the screen.

According to the tracker, Ayla is here. In this hotel. Maybe she’s at the pool, or on one of the other floors? I scratch my head, thinking.

And then I look over to the bed. My stomach lurches.

Sitting neatly on top of the covers is Ayla’s tracker-collar, the metal cut open and bent. Next to it, a pair of bolt cutters.

I let out a roar of pure angst and frustration. All the stress, all the tension of the last few days, and now my light at the end of the tunnel is gone. And I only have myself to blame.

Steadying my breathing, I sit down on the bed. And that’s when I see the note that Ayla left on the nightstand.

I am not just a prop to continue your legacy. I want a husband who values me, something you obviously never did. FUCK OFF.

My mouth is dry. I put down the note, hands shaking, and it’s like my heart is imploding in slow motion.

I want a husband who values me, something you obviously never did.

Whatever resources I need to use. Whatever favors I need to call in. Whatever God I need to pray to.

I will find my wife. I will make her mine again. And she will know exactly what she means to me.