Anarchy (12 page)

“Better.”

“Good.” He pulled her in his arms and closed his eyes
then softly said, “
I’ll
feel better
when
we’re
home.”

“I called
Anita
, she’
ll be here tomorrow
.
”

“Why’d you do that, I thought we were leaving?”

“Alfonzo, the plan was to stay until Sal
returns
with your mom
, which is only
two weeks
.
”

“
I can always fly to L.A.
and
bring Sal
home;
we don’t need to wait around here. My business is done
,
plus you guys are sick and I’d rather get you all home
.”

“I’m feeling better…” she yawned, “I promised
Shanda we
’d
go
shopping
.
”

“Seriously,
since when have you become addicted to
shopping?”

“
S
handa
’s
an addict.
I’m only getting
shoes.
”

“Aye!”
He grumbled.

He heard her soft exhalation a
s she drifted to sleep a
nd frowned.
T
onight’s
incident wasn’t something he
was ready to discuss with his wife, although they made a pact to never keep secrets
.
He considered telling her,
then
changed his mind.
It
’s
best she didn’t
find out. She’d only worry
.

E
xhausted
,
h
e
pushed his head into the pillow and tried to grab some shut-eye. The shooting continuously replayed in his mind like a scratched CD.
How
could
he
explain
to Selange
what
happened
when
he was
n’t sure himself
?

True
, Juan and his crew might’ve stomped the shit
out of him
,
a serious possibility when
ever
there’s
a
street brawl
. M
urdering unarmed
men
to avoid getting his ass
kicked
though,
wasn’t
Alfonzo’s
M.O.
Besides, Juan was
n’t
looking to kill
anybody,
he was likely seeking to
exact payback.
 

Selange snuggled closer and his pulse slowed.
T
he
threatening
headache dissipated.
Funny, Selange always had that effect on him.
He strained his neck to
glimpse her face and smiled. Man, he loved her…more than anything…more than life.

His weary head fell against the pillow but sleep eluded him. His mind returned to one subject;
the shooting.
It’s obvious the s
niper
was a professional. Only a seasoned pro could have taken out all four men with such accuracy. He hadn’t received
a single
bullet
scratch in the mayhem
,
which led to one conclusion;
it was a trained professional. T
he mob
continu
ously
i
nterfered in
his life.

His cell phone rang and his eyes
blinked
open.
The ringing
stopped and
a
light
indicating a
voice
message
flashed like a
warning
beacon. He wrestled with whether to answer or not and the debate ended
when
his
cell
lit up
again
. C
uriosity brought him
swiftly
out of bed
and
grab
bing hold of the
device
.

“Yeah?”
He
grumbled
irritably
, m
a
king his way out the door to the
privacy of the hall.

“
Yo
, you alright?”

It was
Danté
. “I’m cool, why?” He answered
in a
conspiratorial
tone.

“After you left man
,
those dudes
clocking you were shot.
”

“Word?”

The sound of police activity
could be heard
in the background. “I came out
the club
and the DT’s
were
questioning everybody, asking if we heard anything.
I overheard somebody say the
re was a fight across the street
then
bullets started flying.”

Alfonzo
feigned surprise
, “Really?” H
e peeked in his daughter’s bedroom then headed to
the staircase.
“That’s crazy.”

“I
’m
just checking to make sure you’re good.”

Alfonzo hurried down the stairs
and paced the floor.
Danté’s
concern was appreciated but he wasn’t about to divulge anything to anybody.
He didn’t give a shit how far back their friendship went. The only people he trusted
was
his family.
“Me? I’m
good.
”

“Okay, man
that’s all I wanted to know
. Take care.”

“Yeah, you too
, bro
.”
He replied then leaned against the wall running his fingers through his short cropped hair in agitation
.
A
marked
car
suddenly
cr
uise
d
alongside
his car
.
It stopped
.

Alfonzo pushed off the wall
swearing
, “
Fuck!”

The officers
got out
and
circled
the Audi. They touched the hood, peered through the windshield, talking and pointing inside.
He scowled
; he
screw
ed
up by not
inspecting the car
for
damage. Undoubtedly, this is what the
officers were
doing, searching for evidence to link him to the
shootings. He gripped the cell phone, mouth firmly closed, and decided to go upstairs and confess the truth to Selange. The possibility of going to jail was almost a certainty. He grimaced, “Damn…
I’ve been set up…shit!”

He heard muffled laughter and turned to find the officers smiling as they returned to their patrol car. When they
pulled away, Alfonzo’s shoulders collapsed, they hadn’t come about the shootings,
they
were only admiring his car. However, his gut told him to get the fuck out of New York before the police
came
calling. Tomorrow, they were leaving. To hell with shopping, he wanted to maintain his freedom!

CHAPTER SEVEN

Boris
Giuliano
stood on the edge of the pier
counting
the barrels
as they
were l
oaded
in
side
the
refrigerated truck
with a huge
Constantino’s
Seafood logo on
its door
.
Secreted below the large
containers of fish
,
concealed in a false bottom was a
nother type of in
gestible c
ommodity
estimated
at
eight million dollars.
Packaged, sorted and ready for distribution.

The buyer
smiled
,  “
T
h
e
college
kids love
th
e
stuff
.
”

“Um.”

“I’m making a killing. Thanks
.”

“
You’re welcome.”
He
replied then walked away
from the businessman
to avoid further small talk
.