Page 73 of Vows of Blood
“How’s your nose?” one of them says. The other sniffles in response.
“Little bitch got me good,” the second one says. “I could have had her if she didn’t get the jump on me. If I ever find that little frizzy-haired cunt?—”
“She’s in the wind, man. You ain’t never gonna find her.”
Anya. She got away. Good. Maybe she can make it back to Father and tell him what’s happened. All I’d need to do is get out of this trunk while he sends his people out after these bastards.
“And anyway,” the first one says, “You’re out of your fucking mind, Patsy. Damon Pecora wasn’t the brightest kid in the world, but he wasn’t that stupid, I promise you. He was the heir to the throne. Why in fuck’s name would he set up a drug deal with the Mechnikovs’ kid?”
I perk up.What?
“Hey, that’s what the word on the street is,” ‘Patsy’ says. “The whole reason we’re at war with the Russkis is because of Tony’s stupid kid.”
“Hey, yo.Russki?” The first one laughs. “What the fuck, man? See, that’s what we keep telling you about your outdated sense of style. Throw away those Members Only jackets already, okay?”
He laughs heartily and Patsy says, “Whatever, man. I like my clothes just like they are. They’ll be back in style. You watch.”
I could care less about Patsy and his stupid jacket. Get back to the part about Damon Pecora’s drug deal.
“And anyway,” Patsy goes on, “the story goes that Tony was holding his kid back. You know, not letting him get his feet wet in the business. So, his kid decides, ‘Fuck it, I’ll do it myself’ and he goes to Maxim Mechnikov’s kid… um… the other one, not the chuckle fuck in the trunk.”
“Right, right.”
“So, he goes to the other one and he strikes up this big drug deal. Like a hundred kees or something like that for a handful of assault rifles.”
The first one laughs. “Okay, now I know you’re bullshitting. Who the fuck would make a deal like that?”
“Well, it’s like you said. The kid ain’t that fucking bright, right? Apparently, he misunderstands the order and shows up with like, a quarter fewer guns than agreed upon. And Mechnikov’s son decides to take out the rest on his hide.”
My blood goes cold. Pavel was the one who killed Damon?
I think back to all the times that Pavel talked about doing his own thing. Instead of being an enforcer, he talked about getting his own territory and making deals…
I never took him seriously. It’s not something that Father would have gone for. Would he do this, though? Would he go behind Father’s back and start dealing with Damon?
Shit. If Pavel didn’t kill Damon Pecora, then maybe he’d still be alive. Maybe he wouldn’t have racked up a crippling amount of debt that his father would be on the hook for. Then I wouldn’t have been forced to marry Isabella…
And none of this fucking mess happens. Shit. It was him all along. Pavel caused all this shit. And Father made me get married to cover up for him…
No. No, that can’t be. What would he care about Pecora’s son dying, even if it was at our hands? If Tony knew about it, there’s no way he would have struck a deal with my father. Pavel got away with murder.
I can see the plan unfolding in my mind. Maybe he suggests the union to Father once Damon has been murdered and maybe he convinces him this would be a way to finally consume the Pecora empire completely. Gain his trust by making him think that we’re allies, then start a war and wipe the rest of them out.
But then, that means that Pavel was the one who set me up.Twice.Son of a bitch.
The car starts to slow and I grip the tire iron, positioning myself so that my feet are first. As soon as they open this trunk, both these bastards are getting theirs.
The engine stops rumbling under me and I realize that the time is now. They’ll be opening this trunk any second. I feel the rocking of the car as the doors open and close, the sounds of their footfalls as they walk around to the back of the car.
“You know, you need to stop gossiping like little bitches,” I hear of them say. “Especially about shit that ain’t true. You know what Tony would do to you if he knew?—”
The trunk flies up and I kick out. My feet catch one of them right in the face, sending him flying backward. “Fuck!” I hear one of them yell.
The other’s reaching for his gun, so I get myself upright. As he pulls his gun, I swing the crowbar, knocking it out of his hand. The gun goes flying off, hitting cement somewhere off to my right. I bring the crowbar back around and smack him in the side of the head. He stumbles to the side and then falls over.
Out of the trunk. Once I’m on my feet, I look over at the one I kicked. He’s a big, bloated motherfucker who’s struggling to get up like a turtle that’s found himself on his back. He sees me and his eyes get big as he reaches for his gun. I rush him, swinging the crowbar for his head. He gets a shot off, but it misses my head. The bullet whizzes by me ear as I raise the crowbar and bring it down on his skull. The bar connects with the side of his head, caving it in with a sickening crunch. A pool of blood splashes up at me, then starts to collect under him as he twitches.
I turn around to the other guy. He’s groaning and holding his head as he sits up. Blood is pouring from his scalp as he tries to focus on me.
