Page 103 of Because I Need You
44
GIO
I didn’t like casualties. Dom knew that, so he pointed his gun at the five old people sitting in a table playing bingo and told them to get the fuck out. They did it, but that meant it was only a matter of time before the police showed up, so we had to be faster. Dominic went first. He rounded the corners and pointed his weapon. We reached the door that separated the bingo hall from the shit that really went down here. From the few times I’d been here, I knew the bouncer would be sitting in a stool just to the right, so the moment Dom was about to cross the threshold, I pulled him back by his bullet proof jacket and stopped him. He glanced at me over his shoulder, question in his eyes. I nodded in the direction the bouncer normally sat in, and he pointed his gun there. I stepped forward. It was empty. We looked at the door in front of us, the three of us taking a collective breath and letting it out as Dominic kicked it down and we rushed. A dozen men stood up, guns aimed at us, but we were ready. We started shooting man after man after man. Once I knew they’d be fine on their own, I went straight to Silvio’s office in the back, kicking his door open. He was on the phone, behind his desk, when he looked up at me, wide-eyed, scared.
“Honey, I love you. I’ll talk to you later,” he said, setting the phone back in its cradle. He put his hands up. “Your mother is behind all of this. She was the one who—”
BAM.
I didn’t let him finish his sentence before I shot him between the eyes.
BAM.
BAM.
Two more for good measure. I walked out and opened the door next to his, which led to a stairwell. A basement? I started walking down the stairs. I heard her before I saw her. I heard her crying and struggling against something, someone. I walked as fast as I could without making noise. When I looked over the ledge, I saw two things: Isabel with her hands tied, struggling to get away, and a man’s arms wrapping around her. Then, I only saw red.
45
ISABEL
Ricardo was shot in the head, just inches away from my face. His blood splattered everywhere, and all I could do was scream as I fell down with him and scream again when I saw the state of his head. I was shaking as I kicked away from him, trying to get to the wall, to anything, even though I knew this was it. I knew it was over. This was where I’d die, down here, in a stairwell God knows where, alone. The alone part never used to bother me. I used to think I’d die alone. I was neither happy nor sad at the prospect. I figured when it was my time, I’d have to go. Never did I think it would be like this. Even as a teenager, when once in a while we’d here of a kid on the block who had gotten shot down, or someone being hit by a stray bullet, I didn’t think it would ever be me. Even during those drills, we practiced constantly in case of a school shooting, even then, I didn’t think I’d die by a gun. Maybe it was better that way. Maybe it would be painless. A sob raked through me. I couldn’t see through the haze of my tears, through the blood coating my hair which was covering half of my face. I couldn’t hear, my ears ringing loudly, so loudly, that even swallowing wouldn’t help them pop. Someone grabbed me, crouched down in front of me, shook me hard, so hard my head went forward and back with it. I cried harder. I swallowed again and my ears adjusted slightly.
“Isabel.” He shook me harder. “Isabel.”
I blinked. “Gio?”
“It’s going to be okay. Oh, my God, thank God you’re alive. It’s going to be okay, baby,” he said again, and I couldn’t tell whether he was saying it for my benefit or his. Over his shoulder, I saw the outline of a person. The outline of a gun. It was a one second decision. I gasped, pushing him off me as hard as I could. I heard the BAM. I felt it as it hit me, pushing me back against the wall, my head slamming with the impact. I heard two more.
BAM.
BAM.
Everything went black.
46
GIO
When we were teenagers, Frankie and I used to play a game. We’d rattle off ways you could die and rate them from one to five, five being the absolute worst. Frankie always picked old age. Every single time. I’d laugh, and he’d say, “I’m serious, bro. Imagine being so old that someone has to wipe your ass for you. Imagine not being able to get it up.” He’d shiver at that.
