“Just Luca,” I grumble. The wind snips at my heals and makes me climb faster. My lungs are working overtime, I’m somehow both on fire internally and absolutely frozen externally. It’s not exactly the most comfortable state to be in, but I have a job to do, and I’ll be damned if I’d rather be doing anything else.
“You think he told the Russians? You know because of the whole deal...”
I growl and Finn gets the hint. He shuts up and the sound of my panting fills the air between us. “Never a word about that over the airwaves,” I bark.
“My bad, big fella.” Finn’s still young and getting a hang of this crooked lifestyle he’s found himself thrown into, but he’s also the only person outside of the Barone family who I feel like I can trust. He’s also the only cop in the city who’s exclusively on my payroll—everyone else is either owned by the Barone family, the Volkov Bratva, or the Triad. As far as every other crook in the city is concerned, Finn Salley is a straight-shooting cop with no dirt on him. God, if they only knew him like I did.
“Still no sign of Santino?” I ask, finally pulling myself up onto the roof. I’m met by hurricane like winds. All I can do is sneer and press forward.
“No. But unless he’s stupid enough to go through the Russians or the Italians, he’s going to have to come through me.”
It’s the truth. After my little meeting with Alonzo Bianchi, earlier in the night, I called the big boss’s left-hand man, his son, Luca Barone. I relayed the information I’d gotten and was given the go-ahead to take care of business. Santino Costa put everything in jeopardy when he shot and killed Alexei Molchalin, the second oldest son of the Volkov Bratva’s head of security. All the connections and trust that the Barone crime family has been fostering with the Volkov Bratva over the past year is now at risk of crumbling because of his actions, and there’s only one solution: bring Santino Costa to the Bratva, dead or alive—though, I know they’d probably prefer him alive. I haven’t yet decided on whether or not I’ll give Santino the mercy of death by my hand. I’ll make it quick; the Russians will not.
Santino’s smarter than his little buddy Alonzo, at least, and he ran and hid as soon as he sobered up enough to realize what he’d done. He must have figured Alonzo was smart enough to eventually do the same, but the small-time loan shark had had a skull thicker than his brain inside; believe me—I saw some of that gooey grey matter when I blew it out of his head.
After my call, Luca Barone had called in a favor of his own to the Triad, letting them know what was at risk if they sheltered Santino any longer. It didn’t take long for the Chinese to confirm that they wouldn’t protect the runaway, but someone inside the den must have tipped off Santino about what was coming for him, because he had taken off just before I could show up.
Still, he couldn’t have gotten far. I was already on my way over when Luca gave me the green light.
I climb down the other side of the building, hopping over the asphalt roofs of convenient stores and restaurants. The wind isn’t as strong down here—the surrounded skyscrapers take the main brunt of its lashings—and I can actually hear my own footsteps as I hurry towards the southeast exit of Baker street. I’m putting all my eggs into one basket—if Santino has decided to take a dumber route out of Chinatown, then I’m screwed.
There’s no way he’d risk confronting the Russians, I tell myself. And he knows how brutal his own crime family can be to traitors and saboteurs. There’s only one way.
It doesn’t take me much longer to get to the only spot a smart Santino could use for his escape. I can only hope that the smart Santino decided to show up tonight.
I stop running at the edge of the last roof before Baker street. Finn’s patrol car glides down the adjoining road ahead. The white, royal blue striped car looks like a shark haunting its dark spot in the ocean.
“I’m here,” I tell him.
“Took you long enough,” the crooked cop teases. “I thought I might have to fight this guy off all by myself.”
“You wish.” I let myself joke back, just a little bit. The adrenaline from my run is starting to fill my head with dopamine. I feel ready for a fight, whether with fists or fire.
“Have you checked the shops for witnesses?” I ask, scanning either end of the street for light. I don’t see any.
“Everything’s closed and shut down... well, except for maybe a diner on the corner. The lights are still on, but I didn’t see anyone inside—hopefully someone just forgot to turn the power off.”
I spit down onto the street. Hopefully!? “We can’t risk relying on your hopes and dreams, Finn. Did you try and go inside?”
There’s a pause over the airwaves.
“... No.”
Fuck.
“There might be gunshots, Finn. We can’t have somebody calling the cops before we know that we can get out of here cleanly.”
I can hear Finn chewing on something over on his end of the line. I grind my teeth. He may love the thrill of the chase, but he’s not taking this shit as seriously as he needs to. My ass is on the line. I can’t risk a fuck up.
“I’ve got my radio right here. I’ll let you know if a call comes in over the airwaves.”
“Not good enough,” I growl, climbing down from my perch. “I’ll go check. You keep an eye out. Santino has to be coming by here soon. I just know it.”
I hear the sound of Finn sucking on his teeth. “Alright. Alright. Geez, I thought you liked this shit as much as I do—” he stops mid-thought. I can nearly hear the stupid grin coming over his face.
“Hey, once we’ve taken care of this whole Santino business, let’s celebrate, huh?”
I breathe a s