Dark Redeemer by Raven Scott

3

Massimo

“Shit,” I say. “Shit shit shit.”

I exhale, thinking for a moment. “All right, did anybody see? Can you collect the body without anyone noticing?”

“He was screaming like a baby,” Matteo says. “So yes, people saw.”

“You were wearing your balaclavas?” I ask.

“Of course,” Matteo replies.

“Is there any chance you can collect the body?” I press.

“No,” he responds. “When we were leaving, a crowd had already gathered around him.”

I pause. Then: “You and Roberto head home. We’re going to have to lay low for a while.”

“We’re already on our way,” Matteo tells me.

* * *

When I returnto the villa, I hug Matteo and Roberto.

“How are you doing?” I ask them.

“Could be better,” Roberto says. “But I’ll manage.”

I glance at Matteo. “And you?”

He closes his eyes and shoves his hands into his pockets. Then he lowers his gaze, letting his dark curls drop around his face. “I…”

This is the first time my brothers have killed someone, so it’s understandable if they’re feeling guilt. Until now, I was the only one of us who had taken a life. But in my case I had to do it to save my own skin, while for Matteo and Roberto it was accidental. I’ll do my best to guide my brothers through their pain.

“I’m here for you,” I tell Matteo. I glance over my shoulder at my other brothers, who are seated in the family room, listening attentively. My sister isn’t there… she doesn’t participate in this side of the business. “We all are. Whatever you need, tell me. Tell us.”

“Tonight, I just want to be alone,” Matteo replies.

I glance at Roberto, who nods. “Me, a bottle of wine, and the ocean. Those will be my companions tonight.”

I pat them both on the shoulders. “I wish there was something I could do. I wish I could swap places with you.”

“No,” Matteo says. “I wouldn’t wish this on anyone.” He looks up, then manages a smile. “Shit, he was just some random jockey. I don’t know why we’re moping about so much over it. And you already bribed the cops, so we’re good.”

I force a grin of my own. I can tell from his tone that not even he believes my earlier bribe is enough, not for this.

* * *

Sure enough thatevening the buzzer rings, and on my phone I pull up the feed from the external camera monitoring the main gate.

“Who is it?” Luciano, one of my brothers, asks from across the table.

“Detective Lombardo,” I reply. “He’s come alone.”

“That’s a good sign,” Luciano says.

I nod. That means he’s open to negotiation.

“This is why we can never afford to pay off the mortgage,” Luciano adds.

I ignore the comment and open the gates to let the detective drive his unmarked car inside.

When the doorbell rings, I invite Lombardo in.

The chain-smoking detective peers over my shoulder, scanning the family room beyond. When he sees all my brothers gathered there, he shakes his head. “I prefer to stay out here, if you don’t mind.”

I smile, hoping it’s not feral. “So what can I do for you tonight?”

Detective Lombardo takes a deep drag from his smoke. I notice his hands are shaking lightly as if he’s trying to calm his nerves. He’s scared of me and my brothers.

Good. He should be.

“It’s curious,” he begins, “wouldn’t you say? That Santo died shortly after you bribed me to keep quiet about the case.”

“It is curious,” I agree.

He takes another long drag. “Shit. We never agreed you were allowed to kill him. That wasn’t part of the deal. This changes everything.”

I bite my lower lip angrily. “It changes fuck all. And I didn’t kill him. I have a fairly strong alibi, considering I was in the police station when he died.”

“And where were your brothers?” the detective asks.

I suppress the anger welling inside me. “Home.”

“Can they prove it?” Lombardo asks.

I press my lips together, then reach for an envelope stowed inside my jacket. Santo, apparently mistaking the movement as making for a weapon, takes a step back and drops his hand to his holster.

I produce the envelope and he slouches in relief. I lean forward to tuck it into his jacket pocket. “A little something extra for your trouble.”

He frowns and removes the envelope to flip through the multicolored Euro bills.

“It’s five grand,” I tell him. “Look, Detective.” I can’t help the spite that fills my tongue when I say that word, because I know he’s anything but. He’s corrupt, a traitor to the family he had sworn allegiance to—the cops. “You’re a part of this just as much as me now. You can report this latest bribe if you want, but you’ll merely implicate yourself. You know that. Report it, and your coworkers will look into the case, find out you glossed over a report involving a beating shortly before his death. And they’ll believe you’re complicit. That’s why you’re here.”

“But if I cover this up, my superiors—”

“You’re afraid what your superiors will do?” I cut him off. “If so, your fear is misplaced… you should be afraid of me. Think of your beautiful wife and son. You wouldn’t want anything to happen to them, would you?”

He clenches his jaw, his eyes simmering with rage. “Don’t you dare threaten—”

He freezes when a pistol touches the side of his temple. It’s an old-style revolver. Matteo stands on the porch to his right. I hadn’t expected him to intervene.

Matteo cocks the hammer, producing that soft, deadly-sounding click so familiar to those who work with the weapon. Anyone familiar with Hollywood gangster movies would also recognize it. That distinctive click is precisely why Matteo carries the thing.

“I think you should go,” I tell Lombardo as calmly as I can manage, though inside I’m a wreck.

Don’t shoot him, Matteo! We need him!

Has killing Santo caused my brother to snap?

“I’ll send you another five grand when I can,” I continue, doing my best to appear calm. “Spend the money well. You earned it. But in the meantime, keep your head down, and your mouth shut. If you don’t…”

He nods fervently. “I will.” He quickly backs away. The cigarette drops from his hands.

Matteo keeps his gun trained on him the whole time, and when the unmarked vehicle finally drives through the gate my brother slides the weapon into his pants with a grin.

“I showed that bastard, didn’t I?” He licks his lips. “Can’t wait till we own the whole police force, then we don’t have to worry about shit like this.”

I’m about to cuss him out for interfering, but I can’t. Something’s really off about him. He keeps licking his lips.

“Where’s that leftover spaghetti?” he calls to no one in particular when we get inside, as if he has no care in the world and hasn’t just pointed his revolver at a police officer.

When we get to the kitchen I confront him under the lights where I can see him better. His pupils are dilated.

“Are you taking anything?” I ask.

He frowns. “What do you mean?” He sniffs, licks his lips again.

“To dull the pain,” I tell him.

His face darkens. “What the fuck do you think? I killed a man today. Of course I’m going to get high.” He shoves past me to head upstairs.

“I’m just as much to blame as you,” I call after him. “I okayed your visit to the hospital!”

He spins around. “Don’t try to take this burden away from me, because you can’t. It’s mine alone to bear. Mine and Roberto’s. I won’t let any of you take it. I can’t do that to you.”

Then he dashes upstairs before I can say anything else and slams the door to his room behind him.

Luciano approaches from the family room. “I’ll talk to him.”

“No.” I grab Luciano. “Give him some space. He needs to be alone, I think. Check on Roberto, though.”

A few minutes later Luciano tells me that Roberto is drunk out of his mind on the beach, in about the same state as Matteo.

I nod. “They’ll have to work this out on their own. They’ll be better tomorrow.”

“I hope so,” Luciano says. “It doesn’t take much to become addicted to coke. Or alcohol.”

“No,” I agree. “But they’re strong. All the Morettis are. We’ll be there for each other.”

I wonder if it will be enough. Matteo was falling into the darkness right before my eyes, and there was nothing I could do about it.