Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 1
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and
incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or
are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events,
locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the
publisher.
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past
HIGH BALLS
An imprint of Torquere Press Publishers
PO Box 2545
Round Rock, TX 78680
Copyright © 2011 by Aaron Michaels
Cover illustration by Alessia Brio
Published with permission
ISBN: 978-1-61040-567-6
All rights reserved, which includes the right to reproduce this
book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever except as
provided by the U.S. Copyright Law. For information address
Torquere Press. Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680.
First Torquere Press Printing: September 2011
Printed in the USA
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 2
Chapter One
The family from Jersey showed up at Tony and
Carter's deli at five after two on a Friday afternoon mid-
way through August.
Tony tried not to react. Easier said than done, but just
because the family was from Jersey didn't mean the guy
knew Uncle Sid or the rival family that had wiped out
Sid and every other member of his business family.
Everyone except Tony and Carter.
Carter was in the back. He'd just put two pans of
lasagna in the oven in preparation for the dinner crowd,
and he'd be starting in soon on the pizza dough. Carter
had been experimenting lately with pizza. Not designer
pizzas loaded with artichoke hearts and goat cheese like
they had in those fancy schmancy places in L.A., but
good old-fashioned Italian sausage and pepperoni with
plenty of mozzarella and a hand-tossed crust, just like
they used to get in the Italian delis back home in Jersey.
So far, the customers loved it, locals and tourists alike.
Nothing like a taste of east coast Jersey in a little
Idaho town fifty miles south of the Canadian border.
Odd place for a couple of former wiseguys to start a new
life. Odder still for a couple of former wiseguys to settle
down like an old married couple and open their own
deli, not that Tony had one single complaint. He'd put a
couple of pounds on himself sampling Carter's
experiments.
"The good life," Carter said whenever he kissed
Tony's slightly rounded belly.
"You complaining?"
"Naw. Put a little meat on them skinny bones. Give
me something to hold on to."
Tony had always been skinny as a rail. That was one
of the reasons his Uncle Sid had been grooming Tony
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 3
for the business end of the business. The kid's got no
muscle, he can't scare anybody, Sid always used to say.
Tony had hated it when his uncle said shit like that
around the old man's lieutenants. It cost Tony the respect
the old man said everybody in the family deserved.
Not that it mattered now. Sid was dead, gunned down
with the rest of his crew in a neighborhood restaurant
the family had controlled. Tony would have been dead,
too, if Carter hadn't gotten him out.
Even now, the few extra pounds Tony had packed on
from eating Carter's cooking had all settled around his
middle and left the rest of him lean. He wasn't sure
whether he liked the additional weight, but as long as
Carter didn't care, Tony could live with it. So long as he
didn't get his uncle's beer gut. Tony didn't want to
become one of those scrawny old guys who looked like
they swallowed a basketball.
Carter didn't have Tony's problem. Carter was a big
man, but on him the weight was all muscle, even with
all the pizza and lasagna and baked ziti he ate. Back in
Jersey, Carter used to work out on a heavy bag at the
gym when he wasn't busting heads for Sid. Since they'd
opened the deli, Carter got a workout hefting fifty pound
bags of flour and heavy metal pans the size of sheet
cakes full of the classic Italian food that kept them in
business.
By the time the family from Jersey walked through
the deli's front door, the lunch crowd was over for the
day and Tony was busy restocking the cold case with
thin-sliced Italian salami and provolone. He kept twice
the amount of food they would ever need in one day in
the cold case, because back home the deli cases had
been filled to over-flowing. The secret to success,
someone had told Tony when he was a kid, was to look
successful. In the delis of Tony's memories, that meant
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 4
stocking more food than you hoped to sell.
Tony had taken that advice to heart. Not only was
their cold case full of meats and cheeses, antipasto and
salads and cheesecake, the walls on both sides of the deli
were covered in shelves stocked full of everything from
dry Italian salamis and pepperoni and jars of cured
olives and capers and bags of every kind of dried pasta
Tony could find, to olive oil, canned tomato and
marinara sauce, canned Alfredo sauce, strings of garlic,
pickles in glass canisters filled with brine, and loaves of
bread delivered fresh daily by a local bakery. Pans full
of baked ziti and lasagna and veal parmesan steamed on
hot trays off to the side of the cold case. Tony wanted
people to know they were in an Italian deli even with
their eyes closed. He wanted their mouths to water
before they stepped close to the counter.
He shouldn't have been surprised to see a group from
the old neighborhood. The whole town made its living
on tourists. The town bordered the west side of a lake
that reminded Tony a lot of Tahoe, or what Tahoe must
have looked like before gambling moved in.
The deli was less than a two block walk from the
lake. Tourists who had been out on the lake all day and
didn't want to go to a fancy restaurant somewhere else
on the town's three-block main street would start
showing up around four looking for quick takeout. A
few regulars, locals who didn't like to cook in the
summer, either, would start showing up around five-
fifteen. If the day was a good one, the deli might even
get some calls for takeout before Tony and Carter closed
up shop at seven. Let the fancy restaurants cater to the
late-night crowd. By seven, Tony was tired enough that
all he wanted to do was go home and spend the night
with Carter.
Tony pegged the family as part of the old
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 5
neighborhood before they ever opened their mouths.
He'd never seen them before, but he could tell Jersey
girls anywhere. It was a combination of the hair and the
makeup and a certain way of walking -- attitude and
swagger and tough-girl entitlement. Back when he'd still
been part of Uncle Sid's family, Tony's aunt had trotted
out girl after girl from the neighborhood in an attempt to
get Tony to settle down. He knew the look.
"Oh, man, this smells like home," the man said, his
voice loud and expansive. "You ever think we'd find
something like this out here in the sticks?"
"Think they have ziti?" the woman asked. "I haven't
had a good ziti since we got on the plane."
The man was in his late forties, solid, olive-skinned
and dark-haired. He had dark eyes behind wire-rimmed
glasses and the kind of permanent five o'clock shadow
only a heavy beard could produce. He had a big gold
ring on his pinky finger and brought the smell of rich
cigars and old liquor with him in the door. He walked
with the slight swagger of a man who didn't expect to be
messed with.
The family had two kids with them, a bored-looking
girl of about thirteen, iPod buds in her ears, a too-short
baby doll tee showing off her tanned adolescent belly,
and a boy of about eight. The boy was skinny and dark-
haired, his tee-shirt hanging off him like he was a coat
hanger. He had dark eyes that seemed to see everything
but hold it deep inside, like his own little secret. He
reminded Tony of himself at that age.
"What can I do for you folks?" Tony asked. He didn't
smile. Even after months of not being a wiseguy, putting
on a smile for strangers still felt fake. Carter, now he
could smile at anyone and make it look like they'd been
friends for life. Then again, Carter could glare silently
and make the object of his stare consider just how fast
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 6
he should leave town.
"You have ziti?" the woman asked Tony.
"Got a fresh pan." Carter had brought it out an hour
ago. Tony had only served up one portion so far.
"That's what I want," she said.
"You're not gonna eat it all," her husband said.
"Then I won't eat it all. What do you care? I'll save it
for later."
"Get her ziti," the man said to Tony.
The kids ordered sandwiches, and the man wanted a
meatball sub. Tony went about putting their order
together, all the while conscious of the man's eyes on
him.
"You're from back home, too," the man said to him.
Tony spooned meatballs and sauce on the fresh roll.
"Yeah. Been out here a couple of years."
"Where from?"
"Trenton," Tony lied. "My pop had a place back
home."
"I been to Trenton a few times. What's your pop's
place called?"
Tony wrapped up the meatball sub in foil, then
dished up the ziti in a to-go tin. "Closed up when I was
just a kid. I'm kinda winging it here, going from what I
remember."
"Good memory."
Tony was pretty sure the guy caught that Tony hadn't
really answered the question. Tony was ready for the
guy to press the point, but he didn't.
Tony crimped the edges of the to-go tin to keep the
cardboard cover in place over the ziti and went to work
making the kids' sandwiches. Maybe he and Carter had
gotten lucky this time. Running into another Jersey guy
was bound to happen sooner or later. Even if the guy
was connected, it didn't mean he'd know them from a
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 7
hill of beans.
Then Carter stepped through the door from the
kitchen, and Tony knew their luck had run out.
Not that the guy said anything. Neither did Carter,
but it was obvious they knew each other. The man's eyes
narrowed behind his wire-rims, and the air suddenly felt
thick, like before a thunderstorm when the clouds were
gathering overhead, heavy with rain, but nothing had
happened yet.
Carter stared at the man, eyes flat. Carter kept his
hair shaved down to his scalp. His skin was dark olive
and deeply tanned, with sweat beaded up from the steam
in the kitchen. He wore a plain white tee-shirt that
snugged tight over the thick muscles of his arms and the
hard bulk of his chest. Even without a word, Carter's
mere presence implied a threat, and Tony could tell the
man from Jersey knew it.
Carter looked away first, as if the guy from Jersey
didn't matter. "I got something in the back I want you to
try," he said to Tony. "After you're done here." He went
back into the kitchen without another glance at the man.
"Trenton," the man muttered under his breath, as the
kitchen door swung shut after Carter. It sounded like the
guy was cementing the lie in his memory. He handed
two twenties to Tony. "Keep the change, kid," he said,
then he and his family took their food and left the deli.
No one else was in the deli to see the exchange. Tony
wiped his hands on the apron he wore tied around his
waist and went through the door into the kitchen. "You
want to tell me who the hell that was?" he asked Carter.
"Enforcer for Luciano." Carter opened the oven and
checked his lasagna. "I busted heads with him once,
back when your uncle owed Luciano a favor. We went
calling on this corner grocer thought he didn't have to
pay."
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 8
Carter didn't say what happened with the grocer. In a
situation like that, there were only two possible
outcomes. Either the grocer paid and the enforcer went
away happy, or the grocer didn't pay, in which case the
grocer went away permanently. Back in the day, Tony
never asked Carter the specifics of what he did. He
didn't want to start now. Not unless it was going to cause
them trouble.
"We got anything to worry about?" Tony asked.
Carter shut the oven door. "Depends on who Luciano
owes favors to."
In Tony's old life, favors were the currency of
business between the families. Every family craved
power and respect, that went without saying, but favors
from one family to the next might keep your own people
out of jail if the cops were on someone else's payroll but
not yours. Favors bought you building permits and
delivery routes and a cut of another family's action. And
every once in a while, favors bought you someone like
Carter to help keep the local businesses in line.
Luciano's people hadn't been the ones who hit Uncle
Sid and his lieutenants back in Jersey. That had been a
young family with a boss who had something to prove,
and he'd done it by turning a family restaurant into a
killing field. But just because Luciano hadn't wiped out
Uncle Sid's entire operation in one single blow, that
didn't mean Luciano wasn't allied with the new boss or
didn't want to curry favors.
If Luciano wanted a favor in return -- a big one --
he'd report to the new guy that Sid's nephew, the one
he'd treated like his own kid, the old man's only relative
who'd survived the hit, was alive and well and running a
deli in Northern Idaho.
"Guess we better watch our backs," Tony said.
Carter wiped his hands on a towel and leaned back
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 9
against the stainless steel sink, soapy water steaming
behind him. "We could pack up," he said. "Get in the
van. There's a whole lot of country we haven't seen yet."
They could. But they'd used a lot of the money they'd
stashed in Carter's van when they left Jersey -- all they
money they'd saved from working for Sid and running
their own little protection racket on the side -- to open
the deli. The place was paying for itself these days, but
they hadn't been able to replace much more than a few
thousand dollars of the money they'd started out with.
Besides, Tony could tell from Carter's attitude, the
quiet way he'd asked the question, that Carter didn't
much like the idea of leaving. Tony didn't, either.
Tony shook his head. "This could amount to nothing.
I'm not leaving over nothing."
"We gonna get ready, just in case?"
Carter didn't mean get ready to move on. He meant
get ready for war.
"Yeah," Tony said. "I guess we should."
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 10
Chapter Two
Tony had never been a foot soldier. Carter was the
fighter. Tony had been groomed for management.
Middle management. Uncle Sid's only son had been in
line to be boss after the old man died. Tony could have
hoped for no more than becoming his cousin's
lieutenant, and he had no problem with that. He didn't
have the temperament to run a family. Hell, even Carter
knew that.
Except for the few times his uncle had made him go
shoot out in the woods just so he'd know how to handle
a gun, Tony had had nothing to do with guns. Carter was
the one who took to guns just like he'd taken to fighting.
Carter was the one who got them guns now.
It wasn't as easy in rural Idaho to get a gun as it had
been on the streets of New Jersey. Back in Jersey, Carter
had a network of guys who knew other guys who knew
guys with enough firepower to start a private war. Now
it took Carter two days to come up with enough guns to
make him happy.
"We only got two hands each," Tony said, staring at
the array of shotguns and pistols laid out on their bed.
"Got places I'm gonna stash some."
"Not where any kids can find them, right?"
Carter took a step back and stared at him. "Listen to
you, Mister Domestic."
"Fuck you. I don't want some kid getting hurt over
this."
"I don't want us getting hurt over this. And no, I'm
not stashing anything anywhere a kid can find it and
decide to play Cowboys 'n Indians."
Tony picked up the nearest handgun, a .9mm. He felt
the weight, released the magazine and then slapped it
home again, just to practice how. He sighted down the
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 11
barrel, held the pose for a minute, then put the gun back
down.
"This is probably for nothing," Tony said.
He wanted to rub the hand that had held the gun
against his trousers. He could still remember what it had
been like back in that restaurant in Jersey. How gunfire
had gone off around him without warning, the pop pop
pop of the handguns and the big boom of the shotguns.
The whine of a bullet whizzing by his ear, the smell of
marinara mixed with blood and spent gunpowder, and
the shouts and screams of the wounded who knew they
wouldn't make it out alive.
Now he made himself stand still instead of rubbing
his hand. Back in those days, he'd made himself do a lot
of things he didn't want to do. He'd thought the bad old
days were over. Maybe they were, but he didn't have a
good feeling about this.
"I need some practice," he said to Carter. "Let's go
for a drive."
* * *
The part of Northern Idaho where Tony and Carter
lived wasn't congested like the cities farther south, but
they still had to drive nearly an hour, the last bit over
dirt roads, to get to a place where gunshots wouldn't be
reported to the sheriff. Carter's van was getting old, but
it made the trip just fine. In winter, the van would have
bogged down in the snow less than ten minutes outside
of town.
The country was pretty up here. The most green Tony
had ever seen back in Jersey was when Uncle Sid took
Tony and Carter on fishing trips when they were
teenagers. Not that Uncle Sid had ever actually fished,
but the motels they always stayed in were in the country,
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 12
nestled in woods thick enough to get lost in.
Back then Tony used to think that rural Jersey had all
the green in the world. To a city kid used to concrete and
asphalt and the occasional sapling struggling against the
smog, the orchards and forests they passed on the way to
Uncle Sid's favorite motel looked like some medieval
fiefdom. Sid certainly acted as if he was lord of the
manor, fucking every comely wench in sight.
The place Carter found for them to target shoot put
Jersey to shame. Tall pines, more than a hundred feet
from root to tip, towered overhead, crowding together
like soldiers marching off to war. Beneath the pines was
a no-man's land of fallen branches, desiccated pine
needles, and ancient wildlife trails.
Tony stood next to the van and watched a rabbit
high-tail it through the underbrush. The rabbit was safe.
Tony had no desire to add wild game to the deli's menu.
Carter hauled a cardboard box from the van and set it
down next to a big log from a long-dead pine, the victim
of a windstorm or maybe the last evidence of a
controlled burn. He pulled empty bottles from the box
and set them on the log along with a couple of empty
cans. Then he paced off what he must have thought was
a reasonable distance. He took one of the handguns from
the small of his back where he'd tucked it beneath the
waistband of his jeans. He didn't even sight, just pulled
the gun out and fired in one smooth move. His shot took
off the neck of a beer bottle.
Carter smiled. "I still got it."
Yeah, he did.
Tony was rusty. He had to sight along the barrel, and
even then it took four shots before he got the bullet
where he wanted it.
"Not bad," Carter said when Tony stopped firing.
"Not great."
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 13
Tony finished off the rest of the bullets in the gun,
then ejected the spent magazine. If he'd been in a battle,
he would have simply slapped home a fresh one. Now
he took the time to snap bullets into the empty.
"If this goes down," Tony said, "how many guys you
think we'll be up against?"
"One, if they think they're smarter than us. Two,
tops."
That made sense. Enforcers like Carter usually
worked alone. Sometimes, like when Luciano collected
a favor, two guys went -- one to keep the mark in place,
the other to work him over. This time, though, one of the
marks was Carter. They might be tempted to send more
than two, but that would draw attention.
"They think they're smarter than us?"
Carter shrugged. "They think they're badder than us.
Don't know about smarter."
"Might be badder than me. Don't know about you."
Carter's chuckle lightened the mood. For a minute,
Tony forgot how deadly serious the situation was.
He took aim and squeezed off a few more shots. He
switched guns and did the whole thing over again. As he
worked the guns, pulling the trigger started to feel less
unnatural. Tony would never be as good as Carter, but
maybe he'd be good enough.
Uncle Sid hadn't been good enough. He'd been
ruthless as all fuck, but he'd grown complacent. He was
comfortable with his place in the grand scheme of
things. He'd forgotten there were other bosses hungry
enough to try to take him down.
Nothing had been out of the ordinary the day Uncle
Sid and the rest of his crew were ambushed. They'd
gone to one of Uncle Sid's favorite restaurants, La
Vecci's, just Sid and his son, Tony, Carter, and Sid's
lieutenants. No wives, no girlfriends. Uncle Sid had
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 14
business to talk about, and he paid the owner of La
Vecci's well to make sure the man was never tempted to
let the cops bug the joint. It was a safe place to talk.
But Sid miscalculated. He put too many of his men
all in one place at one time. Everybody drank too much
wine with dinner. Ate too many heavy meals of pasta,
and afterward, everyone had eyelids too heavy to keep a
decent lookout.
Tony hadn't known the men who stepped through the
restaurant's front door. They'd opened fire before he got
a good look at their faces. He wasn't even sure if there'd
only been two who came in that way. Tony had been too
busy trying to stay alive to count.
The fact that Tony walked out of there in one piece
was due to Carter, not to anything Tony had done on his
own. Instead of trying to take out the guys who'd come
through the kitchen to catch Sid and his men in a cross
fire, Tony had been shielded by a heavy wooden table
Carter had overturned right before he got hit with a
round in the shoulder.
Even shot, Carter took care of him. He got Tony out
of that restaurant in one piece.
Someday Carter wasn't going to survive taking care
of him. Tony didn't want to think about that.
Tony let the gun hang relaxed at his side. He wanted
to practice firing when he didn't have time to aim, but
for a moment he was enjoying the quiet of the forest and
the lack of gunfire.
"Think we should split up for a while, make it hard
for them?" Tony asked.
"Not a fucking chance." Carter picked up a shotgun,
nestled the stock against his shoulder, and fired. This
time one of the beer bottles exploded in a rain of
powdered glass. "We don't even know they're coming."
He shot again. A can went flying. "I ain't leaving you."
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 15
Tony didn't want him to. He wasn't sure if that was
smart, but he wanted Carter at his side.
Always.
* * *
They made love that night for a long time.
Tony would be the first to admit they weren't the
most adventurous of lovers. Hell, until the demise of his
uncle's organization, they hadn't been lovers at all. Only
after they fled New Jersey had they acted on their long-
smoldering attraction for each other. Tame described
most of their love-making, and Tony was good with
that. He knew Carter loved him, and he made sure
Carter knew he was in it for the long haul.
"Look at you," Carter said as they both stripped down
for their nightly bath. The house they lived in had a tub
that fit the both of them, and they put it to good use,
bathing together every night. "You did better today than
you thought you would. Mister Dangerous."
Tony snorted. "Only if they come at us blindfolded."
"Blindfolded, huh?" Carter stepped out of his shorts.
He was half-hard already, his cock heavy and thick
between his muscular thighs. "That has possibilities."
Carter had always been solidly muscular. Tony had
never been turned on by guys in general, but Carter's
body, with his smooth skin cut close to thick muscles,
the cords and veins of his arms, his broad shoulders and
narrow waist and hips -- just the sight of Carter naked
never failed to make Tony so hard he ached. By the time
he got out of his own clothes, his hard on could have cut
steel.
Carter got in the tub first. Tony got in afterward,
settling in the hot water with his back against Carter's
chest, Carter's cock nudging the crack of his ass.
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 16
Nighttime baths were part of their routine. They
showered in the morning, then put on the clothes they
wore at the deli like they were putting on the public part
of themselves. They didn't fuck in the mornings after
they showered. That part of their day was for business.
In the evenings, the bath was their transition from the
public Tony and Carter to the private couple. The men
who could be vulnerable with each other, who didn't
have to be tough guys ready to take on the world if it got
in their way. Half the time they jerked each other off in
the tub, too impatient to wait any longer, their hands
slippery first with soap and then with come. Then they
went to bed and fucked and slept in each other's arms.
Tonight, instead of soaping Tony's chest with the
washcloth, Carter put the wet cloth over Tony's eyes.
"What the fuck?" Tony said.
He reached up to take the cloth away. Carter's hand
on his wrist stopped him. "Leave it," Carter said. "I
wanna try something."
Tony hesitated. He didn't like having his eyes
covered. It reminded him too much of the times he knew
his uncle's enforcers, the guys who had years on Carter
and dozens more "enforcements" under their belts,
shoved one of his uncle's enemies, blindfolded and
hogtied, in the trunk of their car and took him for the
last ride of his life. A few of them liked to wrap the
guy's necktie around his eyes and set him walking down
an alley, thinking he was free, then cap him twice in the
head. For sport.
"You're gonna like it," Carter said.
Tony felt the rumble of Carter's deep voice in his
own chest. This would be different. This was Carter.
Carter wouldn't hurt him.
Tony let his hand fall back in the water.
"Just relax," Carter said. His steady breathing, the
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 17
rise and fall of his chest beneath Tony's back, went a
long way toward helping Tony finally release the
tension he'd held all day.
"What do you have planned here?" Tony asked.
Carter's voice dropped half an octave. "Sit back and
you'll find out."
They never put candles around the tub. Instead, they
left the lights on over the vanity. The little light bulbs
made the inside of Tony's eyelids glow a faint red. He
felt better being able to see a little through the
washcloth. He tried to tell himself that was stupid, but it
made a difference.
Nothing happened for a while, just the steady rise and
fall of Carter's chest, the slow drip from the bathtub
faucet, the subtle creaks of the house settling in for the
night. Tony was about to doze off when he felt Carter
move.
He was ready for Carter to grab him beneath the
water, but instead he felt the gentle touch of Carter's
fingers on his forearms. Slow and soft, Carter ran his
fingertips from Tony's wrists where they rested beneath
the water all the way up to Tony's shoulders, then back
down again.
Carter could be gentle for a big man, which would
have been surprising to the guys they knew in Jersey.
Tony was used to it by now, but this... this was different.
This touching made Tony's skin come alive, and not just
the skin on his arms.
The way Tony was nestled up against Carter, the bath
water came up to just below his nipples. Carter's
movements made the water lap up against them in soft
little waves, a lick of warmth followed by the cool kiss
of air as Carter's fingers kept sensitizing Tony's skin.
Would he have felt as much, and as deeply, if he'd
been able to see? Tony doubted it. His cock ached, and
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 18
Tony knew he was hard as a rock again.
The next time Carter's fingertips skimmed up his
arms, Carter kept going. Over the hard angle of
Tony's shoulders, along his collarbone to the front of his
neck, and on up beneath his chin, Carter's fingers spread
their magic. Tony's need coalesced now in those wet
nipples, spread down through him, dipped in at his
bellybutton, ran like a live wire through his groin into
his cock to settle heavily in his balls.
"You got a plan here?" he asked Carter, his voice
rough.
"What, you don't like this so far?" Carter nuzzled up
against the side of Tony's neck. "'Cause from where I sit,
it looks like you like this a whole lot."
Tony shifted in the tub, trying to find some sort of
release for his aching cock. "I got fuckin' blue balls is
how much I like this so far."
"I'm not gonna touch you. Not there. But you're still
gonna come for me, just from me touching you like
this."
Tony almost groaned. "Wait 'til it's my turn. You're
gonna get what's coming to you, I get my hands on you."
"I'm counting on it."
Carter's fingertips started their way back down, over
Tony's collarbone, around the hard angle of his shoulder,
over the lean muscles of his arms, down below the water
to his wrists.
Carter was enjoying this a hell of a lot, if the dig of
his cock at Tony's backside was any indication. How
Carter was managing to hold himself still, Tony didn't
know, but except for the slow sweep of his hands up and
down Tony's arms, Carter didn't move.
Exactly how long was he going to keep doing this?
Tony got his answer sooner than he expected. On the
next upward sweep of his hands, Carter abruptly leaned
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 19
forward. His teeth nipped down on Tony's earlobe the
same time one of his hands pinched down on Tony's
nipple. Carter wrapped his other arm around Tony's
waist and thrust up, his cock sliding in the crack of
Tony's ass.
Water splashed, and Tony yelled even as his balls
contracted at the sudden jolt that ran from his ear to his
chest right down to his cock. He came, and he came
hard, grunting and shuddering in Carter's grasp, and the
washcloth slipped off his face.
Tony squeezed his eyes shut tight against the sudden
light, too intent on trying to make this feeling, this
exquisite feeling, last as long as possible. Behind him,
Carter groaned, long and low. He pumped himself twice
against Tony, and Tony knew he wasn't the only one
who'd come without a hand on his cock.
Afterward, they lay boneless against each other in the
cooling bath. Tony finally opened his eyes. He lifted his
hands out of the water, not surprised that the skin on his
fingers had pruned up.
"Where the hell did you learn that?" he asked in a
low, satisfied voice.
It took Carter a moment to answer. "I just got
inspired," he finally said. "Thought I'd try something
new."
Something new? "What, you didn't know you could
make me come like that?"
Carter chuckled. "I did, though, didn't I?"
Tony wasn't the only one who was satisfied.
"I'm never gonna live this down, am I?" Tony said.
"You, making me do that without even touching me."
"Oh, I touched you. Not on your cock, but I touched
you." Carter's lips brushed the back of Tony's neck.
"You have no idea how much I wanted to."
"Yeah?"
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 20
"Let me get you in bed, and I'll show you how
much."
That, Tony thought, sounded like the best plan of all.
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 21
Chapter Three
Nothing happened for a week. Tony was beginning to
think that maybe they'd over-reacted. Just because the
guy from Jersey worked for Luciano didn't mean he and
Carter were next on the hit list. Small town Idaho might
be out of the way enough that Luciano figured they were
no threat.
Then Bess disappeared.
"You guys haven't happened to see her, have you?"
The question came from Norman, the owner of the
town's lone sporting goods shop. On their first day in
town, Tony and Carter had stopped a robbery from
going down in Norman's store. The robbers hadn't been
wearing masks. Norman knew as well as Tony and
Carter did what that meant, and he'd done more than say
thanks. He'd become their friend.
Norman was sixty if he was a day. He didn't care that
Tony and Carter were a couple, and if anybody voiced
their opinion about how two men shouldn't be together,
Norman would tell them to mind their own damn
business. He'd been the deli's first customer, and he'd
been their best customer ever since.
Bess was only a couple years younger than Norman.
She ran a bed and breakfast on Main Street, along with
the fancy restaurant that took up the B & B's first floor.
Norman called Bess his "good friend", but everybody in
town knew Bess was Norman's girl.
After they stopped the robbery at his store, Norman
had arranged for Tony and Carter to stay in the best suite
at the B & B for a few days. Tony and Carter had
celebrated their first Christmas as a couple in that suite,
complete with a real Christmas tree and Carter's
homemade lasagna giving the place the smell of back
home.
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 22
Ever since the guy from Jersey had ordered a
meatball sub and left behind a side of unwanted
complications, Carter had taken to propping open the
door between the kitchen and the front counter so he
could keep an eye on Tony. Operating the deli that way
wouldn't stand up to a health inspection, but Tony knew
he couldn't talk Carter out of it, so he didn't try. When
Norman asked about Bess, Carter couldn't help but
overhear.
He came out behind the counter wiping soapy water
off his thick arms. "She missing?" Carter's voice was
low like it always was when he got down to business.
"I don't know." Norman's eyes were faded blue, large
and worried behind thick glasses. He was thin and wiry,
but no one in their right mind would ever call Norman
old. "I went over to her place for coffee, like I always do
in the mornings, but she wasn't home. She's not at the B
& B, either. She'd call me if she was going somewhere.
We got in the habit of calling each other ever since..."
Norman trailed off, but Tony knew what he meant.
Bess had told him once that they knew how close they'd
come to losing each other when the kids tried to rob
Norman's store.
Tony and Carter exchanged a look.
This wasn't Jersey. People didn't just go missing here.
People got drunk on the weekends, went out hunting and
maybe shot themselves in the foot. There was some
vandalism, like the rock that had been thrown through
one of the deli's plate glass windows that spring, but
gangs didn't roam the streets, cops weren't on the take,
and old ladies didn't up and disappear from their houses.
"You seen anybody new in town?" Tony asked.
"Somebody who doesn't look like a tourist?"
Norman blinked a few times. "New? What do you
mean?"
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 23
"Somebody like us?" Carter asked.
Norman almost said "gay" -- Tony could see it on the
tip of his tongue -- but then he got it. Tony always had a
feeling Norman knew what kind of background he and
Carter had, but Norman had never said anything about it.
Now Tony knew.
Norman knew they were wiseguys. Correction --
former wiseguys. He just didn't care.
"Hard to tell," Norman said. "Summer months, lots of
people in and out all the time."
That was part of the problem. Anybody who showed
up from Jersey would have the perfect cover. All they
had to do was act like any other tourist. Pretend to be
here for the scenery, to go fishing on the lake, or even
say they were just passing through on their way up to
Canada. If the guys Luciano sent were smart, they could
blend in.
The thing with Bess could be unrelated. Enforcers
didn't go around kidnapping innocent old ladies. What
would be the point? To draw the two of them into some
candyass search for her, get them off by themselves so
they'd make an easy target? Luciano's guys would have
to kill Bess, too, and probably Norman because no way
would Norman stay out of it even if Tony asked. That
made it messy. Messy drew the wrong kind of attention
from the local cops.
Tony thought it over. It would take a lot of time and
effort to find out Bess had any connection to them, even
with Norman hanging out at the deli a couple times a
week. An enforcer wouldn't risk something like that, not
when he already knew where to find the two of them.
No, an enforcer would come at them when they were
alone. Brace them in their house when they were
sleeping, catch them on the way to the van. No enforcer
worth his salt would come at them sideways like this,
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 24
but Tony didn't like the coincidence.
Little old ladies didn't go missing for no good reason.
That meant whoever was here from Jersey was an
amateur. Fucking Luciano had hired an amateur to take
them out, and he'd been here long enough to latch onto
their connection to Bess.
"You better call Clifford," Tony said.
Clifford Sewell was the local sheriff. He didn't like
Tony, and he especially didn't like Carter, but beyond
the occasional visit to the deli just to let them know he
was keeping an eye on them, Clifford had left the two of
them alone.
Some of the color left Norman's face. "You think
something's happened to her?"
"Better just to call him," Carter said, his voice low
and serious. He exchanged a look with Tony. It said
they'd be looking for Bess whether or not Clifford
Sewell got involved.
* * *
Tony kept the deli open the rest of the day with the
help of Julie, their part-time summer counter girl, while
Carter went out to do what Carter did best.
Thanks to the over-abundance of food already in the
case, Tony had more than enough food to last the day,
even with an influx of teenagers who showed up around
three. He finally ran out of baked ziti about the time
Carter came back, looking grim.
"You okay to handle things out here?" Tony asked
Julie.
"Yeah, sure, Tony." Julie looked at the two of them
with big eyes. "Everything okay?"
"Just fine," Tony told her. "You've been a big help
today. I won't forget that."
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 25
Julie was a smart kid. All of seventeen, and she
worked harder than most adults. She never talked about
her home life, but Norman had told Tony once on the sly
that Julie's father was long gone and her brother was
doing time for boosting a car. The money Julie earned at
the deli helped support herself and her mom. The only
time she'd ever asked Tony for anything non-work
related, it hadn't been for herself but for her cousin,
Jason, and it had been a favor Tony and Carter both
were happy to provide.
He felt her gaze follow them into the kitchen.
Carter took a soda out of the fridge, popped the top
and took a long drink. Tony kept walking through the
kitchen and out the back door. He didn't want to take a
chance that Julie could hear whatever Carter had to say.
A single-lane driveway ran behind the deli. On the
other side of the driveway, the ground sloped down to a
small marina tucked into a narrow channel leading to the
lake. The channel was too small for sailboats. Only
rowboats and the occasional power boat tied up at these
docks.
People were starting to come back from a day on the
water. Tony watched as a power boat idled on low,
barely enough forward momentum to push the boat
toward its tie down. The guy with his hand on the motor
was bare-chested and sun burnt a nice, deep red. What
skin wasn't burnt was fish belly white. He'd be in a
world of hurt tomorrow.
"What'd you find out?" Tony asked Carter, keeping
his voice low.
"Not much, and nothing good." Carter took another
drink from the can, eyes on the guy with the sunburn.
"She's still not back. Yesterday's deposit was in the
strong box, ready for the bank. Jewelry's still there. So's
her car."
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 26
"Sheriff catch any of that?"
Carter shrugged. "I didn't hang around to find out."
"He gonna figure out you were there?"
The look Carter gave him was amused. "I'm not that
rusty."
That was one less worry. If Carter got his ass thrown
in jail, it would make them all that much easier to pick
off, one at a time.
"This ain't right," Tony said. "We never went
sideways at somebody like this."
"Could have nothing to do with us." Carter took
another long drink from the can. "She could have
something going on nobody here knows about."
"Not even Norman?"
"Especially not Norman. You ever know anybody
who tells somebody else everything about themselves?"
True. Tony figured he knew Carter about as well as
anybody, but there were things about Carter, especially
about his childhood, that Carter never talked about. Like
his old man. Tony had seen the bruises when they were
little kids. Carter's old man was probably the only one
who'd ever laid a hand his kid and not come out the
worse for it. Tony used to wonder if Carter ever turned
the tables on his old man, but he never asked. Some
things you just didn't talk about.
From where they were standing, Tony could see the
access road to and from the public park on the lakeshore.
This time of day, traffic was bumper to bumper leaving
the park. Just as many people were leaving on foot,
crossing over the bridge that spanned the narrow
channel. Most of the people leaving the lake were
families with kids, the guys toting coolers, their wives
toting diaper bags and towels and blankets, the kids
worn out from a day of family fun. Tony didn't see
anyone who looked out of place.
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 27
The land fronting this side of the lake was flat. The
park was little more than public parking, a big grassy
area with volleyball nets and shade trees, and a cinder
block concession stand. On the other side of the lake,
miles away, the land rose sharply from the water. The
hills were steep and thickly forested and dotted with
expensive homes on private roads. That made for a
whole lot of wild area to hide one elderly woman.
"We're not gonna find her unless they want us to,"
Tony said.
"Yeah." Carter finished his soda and tossed the empty
can into a recycle bin. "If it's got to do with us."
If. It was one big If.
"If it does," Carter said, looking Tony in the eye. "I'm
gonna kill the bastard."
He said it like he thought Tony would argue the
point. Tony had kept Carter from busting people up, like
the homophobic asshole who threw a rock through the
deli's front window. Then it had been about disrespect
and intolerance, and there would have been no upside to
Carter using his fists to settle the score. One lesson Tony
had learned from Uncle Sid was to pick his battles. This
though? This was different.
"Yeah," Tony said. "If I don't get to him first."
* * *
They took turns sleeping that night, one on watch
with a gun, one asleep.
Carter took the first watch. He sat in the big armchair
in their living room, lights off, just a dark, deadly bulk
in the corner, gun in his lap. Tony knew from experience
that Carter could sit unmoving for hours, alert and ready
for anything that came at him.
Tony didn't think he'd be able to sleep. He had a gun
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 28
on the night stand next to the bed, but the bed felt empty
and foreign without Carter next to him. Finally, he did
manage to catch a couple of hours sleep before he went
out to the living room to relieve Carter.
"Anything?" Tony asked while he was still in the
dark hall, just to let Carter know it was him. He kept his
voice low, but it still sounded loud in the dark house in
the middle of the night.
"Not a peep." The armchair creaked as Carter got up.
He made a couple of soft grunts as he stretched out stiff
muscles, and Tony heard his jaw pop as he yawned.
"Even after all these months, I forget how quiet nights
are out here."
Back in Jersey, in the city, it had never been quiet,
not even in the middle of the night. There was always
traffic, and guys hanging out on the streets, and
somebody playing their music too loud, and somebody
else yelling about it. Tony supposed things would have
been different if they'd lived in the suburbs, but Uncle
Sid wanted his family in the city, and he wanted them
close. After Tony had gotten old enough to live on his
own, he had an apartment in the same building his uncle
lived in. Tony's apartment had been a one bedroom.
Uncle Sid's apartment had taken up an entire floor.
"Something to aspire to, kid," Uncle Sid used to tell
him.
He never knew that Tony didn't care about the
apartment. Or the power that came with being the head
of a family. What Tony wanted was the freedom to live
his own kind of life. The kind of life he had here with
Carter.
He kissed Carter lightly on the lips before he took
Carter's spot in the chair and Carter padded down the
hallway to the bedroom. Tony had brought the gun from
the bedroom. It was a solid, cold weight in his lap.
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 29
Carter had left the blinds on the front window slitted
half-open. There was a street light half a block down
from their house. It was enough to throw faint light on
the yard, but not enough to illuminate inside the house.
If whoever was after them had night vision equipment,
they'd be able to see Tony sitting in his darkened living
room, but if they didn't, all they'd see was the street light
reflecting off the metal slats of the blinds.
Tony'd gotten used to waiting back when he worked
for his uncle. Most days he was nothing but a glorified
errand boy. Go here and get this. Bring that to someone
else. Tony wasn't stupid. He knew what he was doing
was picking up his uncle's share of somebody else's
business.
Protection money. It had become so ingrained in
Tony's way of life that he'd half expected someone to try
to shake them down when he and Carter opened the deli.
It hadn't happened. So far the only attempt at
intimidation had been the rock through the deli's front
window, but that had been a hate crime against gays, not
the start of a turf war, wiseguy against wiseguy.
Somewhere out in the dark, a dog started barking.
Tony's eyes narrowed, and he strained to hear anything
else. Dogs were a good alarm system. The dog could
have been barking at a stray cat. Then again, it could be
barking at someone walking through the neighborhood.
Someone who wasn't supposed to be there.
A couple of minutes later, Tony thought he saw a
shadow moving across the street at the very edge of the
view afforded by his front window. He stayed very still
and waited, and sure enough, part of the shadows moved
against the darker shadows created by shrubs and hedges
and parked cars.
Somebody was across the street, moving slowly and
quietly through the night.
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 30
There's a way a professional enforcer moves.
Someone like Carter, even though he was big and
muscular, still walked with self-confident grace. A
fluidity and ease of motion that comes from long years
of being the top dog in any room. Even though the
shadow across the street moved slowly, Tony thought he
saw the same kind of fluidity and grace.
This wasn't some homeless guy stumbling down an
unfamiliar neighborhood. It wasn't a drunken husband
shuffling home after too much beer.
No, this was someone deliberate. Someone who was
exactly where he wanted to be.
Watching Tony's house from the shadows across the
street.
Tony stayed where he was. It did no good to start
shooting at shadows, not in a neighborhood this quiet.
So Tony watched the watcher.
The guy stopped walking and stood still for a long
time. If Tony hadn't seen him moving a minute ago, he
wouldn't have spotted him now. The guy just blended
too well with the shadowy street.
Tony almost stopped blinking, intent on not losing
sight of the guy. If the guy came across the street and
got close to their front yard, Tony would have to rethink
his decision about not shooting first. He didn't want to
get caught flat footed and a split second too late in
reacting, like his uncle did when shooters came through
the restaurant doors.
But the guy didn't come close to the house. He stood
in the shadows, unmoving, for a good five minutes.
When he finally did move, it was to back away.
Tony got up from his chair and approached his front
window at an angle, both so the watcher wouldn't see
him and so he could see where the guy was going. He
watched the guy walk to the end of the street, where he
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 31
was illuminated beneath a street lamp. The guy was too
far away for Tony to get a good look at his face, but he
could tell the guy wasn't a bodybuilder like Carter. He
was average. Average height, average build, average
dark hair of average length, and wearing a dark jacket
and blue jeans. If the guy had a gun, it was tucked in the
waistband of his jeans at the hollow of his back. Tony
didn't see a gun in the guy's hand.
Was he being paranoid? Making up shit about a guy
who what -- got mixed up where he was supposed to be?
Tony didn't think so.
This guy had been sent to check them out. Maybe to
take them out, but for some reason, he'd gone away
tonight instead.
Tony wasn't sure he'd recognize the guy in daylight.
All he really knew was that the guy wasn't Carter's size
and he had dark hair. Not that there were many people
Carter's size.
At least now they knew. Luciano had sent an enforcer
to take care of them.
And he could be any one of a hundred average
looking guys they saw every day, and they'd never know
it was him until it was too late.
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 32
Chapter Four
The next morning when she came into work, Julie
handed Tony an envelope.
"Where'd you get this?" Tony asked. The envelope
was plain white, business size, with his name typed on
the front in some old style typewriter print.
"It was in my mailbox this morning." She bit down
on her lower lip and looked at Tony like she was
wondering if she'd done something wrong. "I check for
the mail before I leave for work, kind of a habit, and the
only thing inside was this envelope."
Tony turned the envelope over. It was sealed, no
writing on the back.
"I didn't look inside," Julie said, her words rushed. "I
mean, if that's what you're wondering. That's the way I
found it."
Tony frowned. Another sideways move. That didn't
jibe with the enforcer he'd seen last night. That guy had
been studying them like a pro. Tony had half expected
gunfire when they left their house this morning in
Carter's van, but the neighborhood was its normal
weekday morning summer self.
"Thanks," he told Julie. "You did good." She stood
there like she was expecting something else, and Tony
realized the envelope had spooked her. "Seriously, you
did good."
"Okay, Tony." He saw her make an effort to quit
chewing on her lip. "You want me to get the tables set
up?"
Setting up the tables meant making sure the napkin
holders had napkins and the salt and pepper shakers
weren't empty. "Yeah, sure," he said. "Just do your
normal stuff. This is nothing to worry about."
He didn't quite force a smile, but he made himself
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 33
take the intensity down a notch. Julie gave him a
tentative smile in return.
He left her checking the tables and took the envelope
back into the kitchen, closing the door Carter had left
open. "We got something."
Carter dried his hands on the towel that hung from a
belt loop.
Tony slit the envelope open with one of Carter's
sharp kitchen knives. Inside was a piece of lined paper
torn from a spiral notebook. The torn edge was frayed,
one corner ripped off, and the paper was folded into
thirds like a business letter. When Tony unfolded the
paper, a lock of gray hair fell out of the paper and onto
the kitchen floor.
Bess had gray hair that hung down to her waist. Tony
couldn't tell if this was hers or not. The lock on his floor
wasn't long, but that didn't mean it hadn't come from
Bess.
"Son of a bitch," Carter muttered. He bent down and
picked up the hair, put it in a baggie. "The bastard say
anything, or he just sending us hair?"
"Yeah, he told us something."
There was only one line of printing on the notebook
paper. An address and a time. Nothing else. No demand
for money.
"This is fucking stupid," Tony said.
He read the address and time to Carter. Carter's eyes
went flat, and he crossed his arms in front of his chest.
"It's a fucking trap," Carter said.
"Yeah." It couldn't be anything else. The address was
for a place a good twenty miles to the south. Tony'd
have to look it up on a map to be sure, but it was a good
bet the place was well off the beaten path.
Bess was the bait to lure them away from town and
off by themselves.
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 34
The smart thing would be to turn the note over to the
sheriff, but the sheriff would have a whole lot of
questions Tony didn't want to answer. Like why them.
And who was behind it. The sheriff wasn't dumb. He'd
figure things out, and then they'd have to leave and start
over somewhere else. Tony wasn't ready to do that. He
liked it right where they were.
That left only one alternative.
Tony folded up the note and put it in his pocket.
Carter put the baggie with the lock of hair in the back
pocket of his jeans. Their eyes met. Tony saw the same
thing in Carter's eyes that he knew was in his own, only
in Carter's case there was a good deal of banked,
smoldering anger behind his flat stare.
"What time we leaving?" Carter asked.
The note said 6:00 p.m. It was a little after eleven in
the morning.
"Soon as we can get the place shut down."
He'd pay Julie for the day, tell her they decided to
take a drive being it was such a nice day. She might not
believe him, but she was a good kid. She'd keep her
mouth shut. It was one of the reasons Tony hired her out
of all the high school girls who had answered his ad for
part-time help.
After Carter got the food put away, they'd go home
and get their guns. They'd drive out early, find the place,
and do a little reconnaissance of their own. The enforcer
had checked them out good, probably more than just last
night. He didn't think he could get at them on their home
turf without drawing more attention than he wanted, so
he set up this little kidnapping drama to lure them out to
the sticks where a little gunfire was no big deal.
They might well be walking into a trap, but they'd
survived traps before. They'd survive this one too.
They'd get Bess back to Norman, and with any luck,
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 35
they'd send a message back to Luciano. Maybe next
time, he'd think twice about sending some goon out to
finish off the rest of Uncle Sid's family.
* * *
The address on the notepaper turned out to be a
farmhouse on the east side of the two-lane highway that
ran from Coeur d'Alene all the way north to the
Canadian border.
Carter drove. Tony sat in the front seat of the van and
studied the land.
The farmhouse was a good couple of miles off the
highway at the back edge of a flat meadow. The
meadow was sectioned into grazing pastures for cattle
and sheep. The same kind of thick pine forest that
surrounded the east side of the lake where Tony and
Carter lived hugged the back of the farmhouse.
Carter had the window down on his side of the van.
The air smelled thick and musty, choked with the odor
of manure and the hot, green smell of the fields mixed
with the dry dust of the road.
It was an odd place for an enforcer to set up a
confrontation.
"Something's not right here," Carter said as he
brought the van to a stop on the rutted feeder road a
quarter mile away from the farmhouse.
From here, they had a good view of the place. The
single-lane feeder road, little more than a long driveway,
widened into a parking area in front of the house. The
fields butted up against the road, green infiltrating the
hard-packed dirt in stubborn clumps. The farmhouse
was a one story, white-washed number with a covered
porch in front. It looked like something out of a forties
black and white movie.
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 36
The only cars in front of the farmhouse were an old
El Rancho and a battered pickup truck. No rentals. An
enforcer from back home would have rented a car from
the airport, just like a hundred other tourists. He
wouldn't have boosted a car unless he had to, and then
he'd make sure it was a car that wouldn't break down
first chance it got. Carter's van could have outrun either
of these two vehicles.
The guy Tony had seen last night wouldn't be caught
dead in either of the dilapidated wrecks in the driveway.
If he was the pro Tony thought he was, the guy from last
night would have made them go to any one of fifty
different rental cabins up in the woods or a motel room
in some rundown dump where truckers wouldn't even
spend the night. He wouldn't take over some working
farm. Too many variables. Too many things that could
go wrong.
"This can't be about us, not the way we thought,"
Tony said. "This is something else."
Carter grunted his agreement. "So what do we do
about it?"
Tony thought for a minute. He'd been approaching
this like they were about to meet an equal. Some
wiseguy whose business it was busting heads and taking
care of his family's business. That was the guy Tony had
seen last night.
But this? The whole snatch and grab with Bess, the
ransom note that wasn't a ransom note, just an invitation
-- all along, Tony had thought it felt like amateur night.
He looked at the pickup through a pair of binoculars,
and the last piece fell into place.
It was amateur night. There was only one way to
deal with amateurs. Tony needed to quit reacting and go
do what he and Carter did best.
"We got an invitation," Tony said. "I say we take
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 37
them up on it."
Carter put the van in gear. They drove the remaining
quarter mile, van bouncing over the ruts and clumps of
grass, tires kicking up a cloud of dusty, dry dirt. Tony
didn't care if the guys in the farmhouse saw them
coming. All the better if they did.
Tony and Carter both had handguns when they got
out of the van. Tony's was in the pocket of his jacket;
Carter had his nestled in the hollow of his back beneath
the waistband of his jeans.
Insects buzzed out in the tall grass beyond the pasture
fence. There were no horses here, only sheep in the
nearest field and cattle in the field beyond. The sun was
high overhead. Tony had no intention of waiting until
six, and now he was glad he hadn’t. Fucking amateurs.
They didn't know who they were messing with.
An old golden retriever lay on the covered porch off
to the left of the door. It thumped its tail at them as they
approached.
"Hey, fella," Carter said. He stooped to scratch the
retriever behind one ear, and the dog's tail thumped
harder. "You better get out of here," Carter said to the
dog. "Ain't gonna be pretty."
No, it probably wasn't. When people didn't know
what they were doing, like whoever was inside the
house, things always got messy.
The front door was solid wood, closed and probably
locked. The screen door was closed, too, and the drapes
were pulled shut on the windows to each side of the
door. The drapes had been open when Tony had looked
at the place through the binoculars.
"Guess they know we're here," Carter said.
Tony nodded at the door. "Then let's introduce
ourselves."
The screen door wasn't locked. Carter opened it, but
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 38
instead of knocking on the front door, he took a deep
breath, seemed to center himself, and then exploded
with a hard kick that sent the solid wooden door
swinging inward with a crash. Not many people could
do that -- kick a door open on the first try. Tony had
seen Carter do it more times than he could remember.
Someone inside the house shouted, and someone else
screamed.
No matter what the amateurs inside were expecting,
anticipating what Carter might do and seeing him in
action were two different things. By kicking open a door
the bad guys thought wouldn't budge, Carter had given
himself and Tony a split-second advantage before the
bad guys regrouped. Tony didn't intend to waste it.
He had the gun out of his pocket by the time the door
bounced back off the interior wall, shuddering on its
hinges. Tony strode through the door like he owned the
place.
The door opened on a front room, dark and dingy as a
cave with the drapes shut. One low wattage floor lamp
was lit off in a corner behind a recliner to the right of the
door. The coffee table in front of the recliner was littered
with beer cans and takeout bags from McDonald's, and
the whole place smelled like rancid grease and old
sweat.
Three people were in the room. Two men, burly in a
gone-to-seed way, dressed in worn jeans and flannel
shirts with the sleeves ripped out. Their arms and faces
were tan, their small eyes wide in surprise. The third
person was the one who'd screamed -- Bess, held
immobile with an arm around her body and a knife to
her throat.
"You didn't knock," said the guy holding Bess. He
was Tony's height but outweighed him by a good forty
pounds, none of it muscle. He stood in front of a wood-
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 39
paneled wall, Bess held tight in front of him like a living
shield. "I guess faggots don't knock."
His buddy was sitting in a recliner in front of the
floor lamp. He held a shotgun aimed at the doorway
where Tony stood. "That's downright rude, don't you
think?"
Bess was a sturdy woman in her early sixties. Her
face was pale now, and she looked scared, but she didn't
look incapacitated by her fear. Good. Things were going
to happen fast, and they weren't going to be pretty.
That's what people who weren't in the life failed to
understand. Wiseguys, especially guys like Carter, got to
be tough guys because they didn't hesitate. They
accepted that they could and probably would get hurt.
Might even get killed. They didn't let the fear of getting
hurt slow them down. Pain -- and death -- were just
occupational hazards.
These two good old boys, forty and fat and no doubt
used to being top dog in their own little world, probably
didn't spend a whole lot of time contemplating their own
deaths. They set up their little ambush, sure that they'd
have the upper hand. They probably expected Tony and
Carter to hand over their weapons so Bess wouldn't get
hurt. They might even let her go, although Tony doubted
it. They certainly wouldn't let Tony and Carter go, but
Tony had known that the minute he spotted the license
plate on their truck.
These were the two bastards who'd thrown a rock
though the deli's front window just because they didn't
like the fact that Tony and Carter were a couple. These
bastards had gone from throwing rocks to kidnapping.
They didn't plan to stop there, not with a couple of fags
who refused to turn tail and run.
Too bad Tony and Carter weren't going to let them.
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 40
Chapter Five
Tony didn't have time to warn Bess. He had to trust
that she'd keep her head and know what to do when the
time came.
The guy in the chair with the shotgun aimed at the
front door where Tony stood probably thought he had
the upper hand. He did, right up until Tony dropped to
the ground. While Tony was still falling, he brought his
gun around and fired at the guy. It wasn't a great shot,
but in such close quarters, it didn't have to be.
The shot took the guy in the gut. He made a small oof
of surprise, and blood started to blossom on the plaid of
his shirt. The shotgun he held went off; whether the guy
meant to fire or his finger just jerked on the trigger, the
effect was the same. The blast took out a foot wide
section of the front door. Tony got hit with shrapnel and
probably a couple of pellets, but the focus of the blast
missed him.
The shotgun blast missed Carter, too. He'd never
stopped moving. While Tony had taken a split second to
size up the situation, Carter never broke stride. He
walked through the front door like the shotgun and the
knife didn't exist.
Before the guy holding Bess knew what was
happening, Carter had clamped down on the guy's wrist
and twisted his arm and the knife up and backwards.
Bess, like the trooper she was, dropped and rolled out of
the way, and Carter hit the guy with an upper cut to the
bridge of his nose and another beneath his ribs. One
more punch to the face, and the guy was out like a light.
Carter never even drew his gun.
Before the guy with the shotgun could fire again,
Tony shot him in the shoulder. The guy's hand went
slack, and the shotgun dropped onto his lap.
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 41
Still on the floor, Tony took aim at the guy's head.
"Don't make me kill you," he said. "You know I won't
lose sleep over it."
The guy had two holes in him. They weren't huge
holes, but he was bleeding pretty freely from both. The
guy's face was shocky and pale, and he looked like he
was about to throw up. He pushed at the shotgun with
his good hand, and it fell onto the blood-splattered floor.
The other guy was still out, his nose a ruined, bloody
pulp.
Tony took his finger off the trigger and lowered his
gun. His side ached where he'd been hit, but it could
have been worse. A shotgun and a knife to Bess' throat -
- it could have been a lot worse.
Bess lay on the floor, shivering.
"You okay?" Carter asked. He crouched down next to
her, holding out his left hand. The knuckles of his right
were covered with blood that wasn't Carter's own. "That
asshole cut you?"
Bess put a hand to her neck. Her fingers came away
wet, but only a little. "Bastard," she said, her voice
shaky. "Billy Munroe, you little shit." She sat up, looked
at Carter's hand, and before she took it, she punched the
guy on the floor -- Billy Monroe, apparently -- with a
pretty decent right to the belly.
Carter grinned at her. "Always knew there was a
reason I liked you."
"You're good boys," she said, and finally she took
Carter's hand so he could help her to her feet.
"Fucking faggots," said the guy bleeding in the chair.
Tony pushed himself to his feet and kicked the
shotgun out of the guy's reach. Not that he looked like
he could bend over to get it. If anything, he looked like
he was about to join his buddy in dreamland.
"Watch your mouth," Tony said. "Carter doesn't like
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 42
that word. I don't, either."
The guy kept his mouth shut, but his eyes burned
with pain and hatred. He was beat, but that fact hadn't
made it to his brain yet. Tony sighed. With a guy like
that, they might need to beat him again until it sunk in it
would be smarter for him to just leave them alone.
"Think we ought to call an ambulance?" Carter said.
He was just giving the guy shit, but Bess answered
him. "You should let him sit there and bleed," she said.
"Harold's got no more sense than his brother."
Brothers. Tony could see the resemblance now. Sort
of. Billy's face was smeared with blood from his broken
nose, and the flesh around his eyes had begun to swell,
making his features hard to see.
"They hurt you?" Tony asked Bess. "Before we got
here?"
She shook her head. "They wouldn't let me go home,
kept that shotgun out and at the ready just so I knew
they were serious. But they didn't hurt me."
That was good. Tony didn't want to have to convince
Carter not to kill them.
"If we call the sheriff," Tony said to her, "what are
you gonna tell him about what happened here?"
Bess looked him in the eye. She knew what he was
asking.
"You shot him in self-defense," she said. "He shot at
you, and you shot back."
"That's not what happened!" Harold's voice didn't
have much strength to it, if it ever did. He sounded more
like a petulant little boy than a hate-filled man. "He shot
me! I didn't do nothing to him, and he shot me."
Tony wiped his hand over his side. He was bleeding,
but not so much he needed to worry about it.
"You didn't do nothing?" Tony said to Harold. "Then
how come I got buckshot in me?"
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 43
"You got shot?" Bess bustled over to Tony and took a
good look at him. Tony winced as she prodded at his
side. "Sit down," she said, all business and no longer
shivering. "Over there."
She pointed him at a rickety, stained kitchen table
surrounded by three cheap chairs to the left of the front
door in what was no doubt originally designed to be a
dining room. Given the stacks of crap on the table, Tony
doubted anyone actually ate there.
"I'm all right," Tony said.
Bess glared at him. "Sit."
Tony sat. He kept his eyes on the guy in the chair, but
he sat.
Carter pulled out his cell phone and placed a call to
the sheriff. The guy on the floor -- Billy -- stirred and
moaned, but he didn't try to get up. Bess brought hot
water from the kitchen, along with a roll of paper
towels, and proceeded to clean Tony up. Carter stood in
the living room, keeping watch over the two brothers
while everyone waited for the sheriff.
Tony kept his gun in his lap until they heard the
sheriff's car roll down the dirt driveway, then he laid his
gun on the kitchen table. Carter had pulled his shirt out
to cover the gun at his back. Unless the cops patted
Carter down, they wouldn't see his gun. No need for the
sheriff to find out both of them had unregistered
weapons.
This part was over. Bess was safe. Tony was ready to
get the hell out of here.
If the sheriff let him.
* * *
Bess made Tony go to the hospital where a pretty
emergency room doctor removed four shotgun pellets
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 44
from Tony's side along with a few pieces of splintered
wood from the door.
Considering how things could have gone, a few
pellets and some wood wasn't a bad outcome. Fucking
amateurs always complicated things. At least Bess was
safe.
Back in Jersey, he would have been treated by a
doctor on his uncle's payroll. Hospitals had to report
gunshot wounds to the police, so back home, the only
time someone in the family went to the hospital was
when the injury was life threatening. But this time the
sheriff already knew what had happened at the Munroe
farm. Tony had no need to keep his injuries secret.
Bess had told the sheriff exactly what she told Tony
and Carter she would. The sheriff had looked skeptical,
but Bess stuck to her story with the same backbone that
let her sucker punch her kidnapper. Whether the sheriff
believed her or not, he didn't attempt to discredit her
version of events.
"You doing okay?" Carter asked him when they both
made it back to Carter's van.
Tony relaxed against the passenger seat. The doctor
had a light touch, but the local anesthetic was beginning
to wear off. He felt the sting from where she'd poked
around getting the pellets out. If the sheriff hadn't
insisted on talking to Tony while he was still on the
emergency room bed, a thin curtain all that separated
him from the next bed over, he'd be home already.
"Yeah," he told Carter. "I'll live."
Carter didn't push it. There'd been too many times
when Carter was the one with a bullet hole or knuckles
so busted up he had to ice his hand just so he could
make a fist. He knew what it took to get through the
pain. He'd let Tony deal with it in his own way.
Carter stopped for a red light three blocks from the
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 45
deli. It was full night now. The sun had set while the
pretty emergency room doctor had been digging out the
pellets. The daytime tourists, the ones who spent their
time sailing on the lake or lounging on shore, had gone
back to their motel rooms to nurse their sunburns and
watch cable TV. The retail shops on the main drag were
closed for the night, their storefronts shuttered or closed
off with heavy metal gates and padlocks.
The people on the street now were the partiers. The
bars were still open, lounges with karaoke machines and
small raised stages and pubs with a baseball game on the
television behind the bar and pretty bartenders to sling
drinks and keep the customers happy. The people out on
the streets now -- tourists and locals alike -- had a harder
edge. They were out for booze or drugs or sex, and even
behind their smiles, Tony could see the kind of need that
had kept Uncle Sid's family in business for decades.
A group of people crossed the street in front of the
van. Most of them were the kind of party people Tony
would have expected. Three of them weren't.
"Think Sewell bought our story?" Tony asked.
"What we told him?" Carter asked.
"Or what he's been told."
Tony watched the three guys. All were in their mid to
late thirties, all trying very hard to blend in but not doing
that great of a job. It was like watching a panther at the
zoo trying to blend in with a bunch of flamingos.
"Bess sticks to what she said, then yeah, the sheriff
don't have a choice," Carter said. "Unless he comes up
with something on his own, and not something from
Frick and Frack back there."
The Munroe brothers didn't strike Tony as the most
reliable witnesses, but he wouldn't make the mistake of
underestimating the sheriff. Clifford Sewell was far
from a local yokel just barely doing his job. He knew
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 46
Carter and Tony were more than they appeared, he just
couldn't prove it. Both of them had been vigilant about
keeping their noses clean. This was the first time they'd
been compelled to do something that wasn't strictly
legal. Tony hoped that the fact they actually rescued
Bess would go a long ways toward making the sheriff
focus his attention elsewhere, like on the idiots who
kidnapped her.
The three men had reached the sidewalk on the other
side of the street. The one Tony pegged as the leader
moved with a quiet kind of menace. He had dark hair
that would have been slicked straight back from his
forehead in Jersey, but here he'd parted it neatly on the
side with just an attempt to comb it away from his face.
He was clean shaven, his dark slacks pressed, and the
silk tee-shirt he wore under his sports jacket was just a
cut above high-class tourist. He didn't look directly at
the van, but Tony was pretty sure the guy had seen them
just the same.
More importantly, Tony had seen him.
The light turned green, and Carter made a left turn.
They were about a half mile from their house. After a
block, they left the bars and lounges of the main drag
behind. Houses took the place of stores, most of them
single family homes more than fifty years old. Thirty
foot, forty foot pines crowded front yards strewn with
bicycles and swing sets and abandoned dolls and soccer
balls. The cars here had seen better days, just like the old
guy sitting in a wife beater and shorts on his front porch,
illuminated only by the pale light from a television in his
living room. Ten years ago the old guy and the cars and
even the houses would have been something to see.
"They did it, didn't they?" Carter said. It wasn't really
a question.
Tony looked at him.
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 47
"Those guys," Carter said. "They're the assholes who
busted the window."
Tony didn't need to answer, but he said yeah anyway.
Earlier in the year, the Munroe brothers had thrown a
rock through the front window of the deli. At the time,
Tony didn't know it was them. He'd had only seen the
back end of a pickup truck speeding away and caught a
part of the license plate number. He'd recognized the
truck parked in the Munroe's driveway.
"You shoulda let me take care of them back then,"
Carter said. "Would've saved everyone the trouble this
time around."
Carter had wanted to bust heads when their window
had been broken. He'd wanted to treat the busted
window like he would have any other insult against the
family, which meant he wanted to take care of things the
way Uncle Sid used to have him take care of things.
Tony had said no. They weren't the same people here
that they'd been back in Jersey, and besides, the busted
window had been personal, not business. It had been a
hate crime done by cowards. Carter had let the subject
drop.
Then the Munroe brothers had decided to up the ante.
The minute Tony had figured out who'd taken Bess,
he'd made a decision to do whatever it took to get her
back alive and unhurt. It hadn't been guts alone that
made him take on a guy with a shotgun; it had been
guilt. Bess had been kidnapped because of them.
Because of who they were together.
Tony leaned his head back, more tired than he could
remember being in a long time. "It wouldn't have
changed anything," he said. "If you'd taken care of them
back then, we'd still be right here today."
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
"You bust their heads then, they still would have
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 48
done something stupid, they just would have done it
sooner. You saw that guy I shot. If he could have got up
out of his chair, he would have tried to ram that shotgun
down my throat."
"My old man didn't teach me much, but he did teach
me this. Some guys you gotta beat quick and beat hard
so they don't get up again. You don't, and they think
they're invincible." Carter punctuated his words by
thumping a fist on the steering wheel. "You don't bust
their heads so bad they can't remember who they are,
then they go and do stupid stuff like kidnap an old lady
because they think nobody'll do anything about it."
"I'm telling you, it wouldn't have changed anything,
not unless you killed them, then you'd be in jail," Tony
said. "That's never gonna happen, not if I have anything
to say about it."
They drove the next block in silence. Tony was right,
but Carter was right, too. The Munroe brothers would be
trouble again -- not for a while, not until they healed up
and made bail, if they could make bail -- but they'd be
trouble. Them or somebody like them.
"We did what we did," Tony said. "What matters now
is we don't let it happen again."
"So we bust heads next time?"
Tony looked out at the quiet neighborhood. It wasn't
much different than any other run down neighborhood,
full of reminders of the good old days that maybe
weren't that good to begin with. Tony and Carter drove
down this street every day on the way to the deli. Tony
was used to these streets, just like he was used to the old
man sitting on the dark front porch in his wife beater. He
was used to Norman and Bess and Julie, who worked for
them to help support her mom.
Life was good here, but it wasn't good enough to risk
their freedom or the safety of any of their friends.
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 49
"Next time," Tony said. "We move on."
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 50
Chapter Six
They didn't make love that night.
It was the first night they hadn't made love since
they'd been in Idaho. Tony wanted to, but Carter insisted
Tony needed sleep more than sex. Tony was too tired
and too sore to argue.
The sheriff had confiscated Tony's gun. Tony had
expected worse. Carter hadn't exactly bought any of
their arsenal at Norman's sporting goods store. Instead
of arresting him for possession of an unregistered
firearm, the sheriff had told Tony it was strike one and
to keep his nose clean. Tony figured if they hadn't
rescued Bess, he would have been spending the night in
jail.
Not that the loss of one gun mattered all that much.
Carter had procured enough weapons for a small army.
Tony had a different handgun within easy reaching
distance on his night stand. He dry swallowed two
aspirin instead of taking the pain pills the E.R. doctor
gave him. He didn't want his head muddled; he just
wanted to take the edge off the pain.
He closed his eyes and tried to float away, but sleep
wouldn't come. The bed was too empty without Carter's
comforting bulk, and the emptiness had an unsettling
feel to it. The same night the deli's window had been
busted, Tony and Carter had vowed to each other that
they'd always have the other's back. It was as close as
the two of them would ever come to getting married, and
Tony was good with that. But tonight he'd felt a chill
that he didn't think was entirely in his head.
Carter didn't like sitting back and waiting. He didn't
like letting assholes get away with the kind of shit the
Munroes had back when they'd busted the window. He
probably didn't like that Tony hadn't told him who the
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 51
Munroes were when he'd first figured it out back at the
farmhouse. But if Tony had, Carter might have killed
both of the brothers instead of just breaking the one's
nose. If that had happened, no matter what Bess told the
sheriff, they'd probably both be spending the night in
jail.
Finesse, that's what Uncle Sid had taught Tony.
"Guys like Carter, they're just muscle. No brains. You
gotta be the brains, and to be the brains, you gotta think
ahead. Don't let nobody disrespect you, but don't you go
disrespecting yourself by acting stupid."
Of course, as far as Uncle Sid was concerned, Tony
letting Carter fuck him up the ass wouldn't exactly be a
sign of proper respect, either. But Tony had news for
Uncle Sid. Getting fucked up the ass by Carter was the
ultimate sign of respect. And love.
And he fucking missed it.
Tony shifted on the bed and winced at the twinge of
pain in his side. He had to think of something else or
he'd end up with a hard on the size of Detroit. The
problem was, every time he shut his eyes, he kept seeing
their friends' faces.
Bess's face when Carter kicked in the door, her eyes
wide and round, and a knife at her throat.
Norman's face at the hospital, tears brimming in his
eyes as he held Bess' hand while the doctor patched up
the cut on her neck. It hadn't been a bad cut, no stitches
required, but Norman had been more scared for Bess
than he'd been for himself during the robbery.
And the worst thing -- Norman thanking Tony and
Carter over and over again for bringing his girl back
safe.
The two of them had never had to deal with
something like that back in Jersey. Wiseguys didn't go
after wives. They didn't go after girlfriends or daughters
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 52
or the women who ran their own businesses and served
whoever frequented their place, no matter what family
they belonged to. Sure, when turf wars got out of
control, innocents sometimes got caught in the crossfire,
but nobody snatched women or kids to use as bargaining
chips. By the time Bess and Norman finally left the
hospital, Tony felt like he needed to either punch
someone or explode. Carter probably felt worse.
After he'd spent an hour trying unsuccessfully to get
some sleep, Tony finally gave in and got up. A nice,
steady pounding had taken up residence inside his skull.
He needed Carter, even if it was just to be in the same
room with him. Tony took the handgun and padded
down the hall on bare feet toward the living room.
"You're early," Carter said, his voice a low rumble.
He was in the same chair as the night before, a solid
mass of dangerous, implacable menace in their dark
living room.
"Couldn't sleep." Tony glanced out the front window,
half expecting to see the dark-haired guy from the
crosswalk hiding in the shadows across the street, but
the street was empty and quiet.
"Need something?"
A clear conscience. Funny thing for a wiseguy to
wish for.
"We kidding ourselves about fitting in here?" Tony
asked.
Carter took his eyes off the front window for a split
second. "Today was nothing. We been through worse."
"Not here."
The first day they'd been here, when they'd stopped
the robbery in Norman's store, Carter had been shot.
They'd been lucky, the bullet had just grazed him.
They'd been luckier today, and that had been against a
couple of hicks who only hated them because they didn't
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 53
hide the fact they were a couple.
"They took Bess because she's our friend," Tony said.
"Is Julie gonna be next?"
"That's gonna happen anywhere we go. We could be
in the gay capital of the world and somebody's gonna
take a swing at us just to prove they're tough guys.
That's been happening to me my whole life. The only
way to deal is to stand your ground."
Carter was looking back out the window again, but
his voice had a hard edge that Tony didn't think was
entirely directed at the homophobes of the world. The
same chill he'd felt in his empty bed had infiltrated the
room.
"You mad at me?" Tony asked. "Because I said we'd
move on?"
Carter took a minute before he answered. "You and
me, we're tight," he said finally. "My arms are the ones
gonna hold you at night, and I'll stand by you 'til the day
I die, you know that, but I don't like to run."
"We ran away from Jersey."
"We stayed there, we're dead men."
"We might be dead men here, too."
Outside in the night a dog barked, a high yipyipyip.
Tony shifted away from the window, and Carter tensed.
From where he stood, Tony could still see the street,
silvery and quiet in the faint light of the streetlights.
After a few moments, a cat streaked out from beneath a
Toyota parked across the street. Tony let out a breath he
hadn't realized he'd been holding.
"Why we even talking about this?" Carter said. "How
come you're thinking about running from guys like those
idiots that took Bess when we're sitting here waiting for
guys from back home to make their move? If we're
gonna run, why ain't we running?"
It was an honest question. Tony wished he had a
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 54
straightforward reason.
"All I know is it would be the wrong thing to do," he
said. "We got a life here that has nothing to do with
what went down in Jersey, and I'm not about to give that
up because somebody got sent out here to take us down
when we were minding our own business. Guys like the
Munroes, that's different. That's because of who we are,
in this life, not what we were." He took his gaze off the
street long enough to glance at Carter. "There's no
fighting that. I don't want anybody we care about hurt
because of who we are now."
A red dot bloomed on Carter's chest a split second
before Tony caught movement in the shadows out of the
corner of his eye.
"Move!" he yelled at Carter, even as he ducked down
beneath the window.
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 55
Chapter Seven
Carter dove out of the chair the same instant a bullet
hole blossomed in the window with the sound of
breaking glass.
The bullet thumped into the chair just over Carter's
shoulder. Two more followed in quick succession. The
bullet holes in the living room window formed a nice,
neat, circular pattern just about the size of a man's heart.
The shooter was good.
Tony's gun didn't have a suppressor. Neither did
Carter's. The guy shooting at them did. He also had to
have night vision gear. No way could he have seen
inside the house otherwise, and that was no lucky shot.
"How many?" Carter asked.
Tony could just barely make out where Carter was
hunched on the floor, out of sight of the guy with the
gun. He didn't look like he'd been hit, and he didn't
sound like he was in pain.
"Only saw one," Tony said.
"That leaves two more."
"We start shooting up the neighborhood, people are
gonna notice."
"Then we do this quiet," Carter said. He crab-walked
over to where Tony had his back to the front wall of the
house alongside the front window, and gave Tony a
hard, fast kiss. "I still got your back. I'm gonna set up by
the back door. Anybody comes in that way, I'll take care
of 'em."
"I got the front," Tony said.
One more kiss and Carter was gone, faded into the
shadows of the house.
They'd locked the back door before Tony had gone to
bed. That wouldn't stop anyone determined to get in.
With any luck, the shooter thought he'd taken Carter out,
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 56
which would leave the odds three to one in the bad guys'
favor. When they busted in the house, they'd find that
the odds, with Carter still healthy, were just about even.
Waiting in the dark by himself, Tony had nothing to
listen to except the rapid beating of his own heart. He
wasn't going to kid himself. These guys were pros. They
couldn't be intimidated like the Munroe brothers, and
they weren't about to make any stupid mistakes.
Enforcers who made stupid mistakes died young. The
guys Tony had seen in the crosswalk weren't young.
He'd known all along that this day might come. The
only way they could have avoided it would have been to
stay on the road, never stopping anywhere for long,
never leaving a trail. That wasn't any way to live.
Had they been fooling themselves all along? Living
on borrowed time since Jersey? Nothing more than dead
men walking?
Not if he could fucking help it.
Tony shut his eyes just long enough to center
himself.
He couldn't risk looking out the window. That was
just asking to get the top of his head shot off. So he
stayed there, back against the wall, eyes open now, his
breathing and heart rate back to normal.
Waiting for the shooter to make the next move.
It didn't take long.
At first, the sound seeping in through the bullet holes
in the glass sounded like the rustle of wind through the
leaves in their front yard trees. Except there was no
wind, not even a light breeze. What Tony heard was the
soft tread of someone coming up their driveway and
disturbing the leaves that had blown from the trees
during the last windstorm.
The guy had probably scouted their house. He was
good, but he wasn't perfect. Even with night vision gear,
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 57
walking silently outside at night was harder than it
looked. Or else maybe he didn't think he had to be that
careful. Anyone who knew Tony and Carter well enough
to be sent to kill them also knew Tony wasn't the
muscle.
Tony left the wall and crawled across the floor to the
couch, which was across the room from the chair where
Carter had been sitting. Tony grabbed one of the throw
pillows off the couch and crouched down behind it. He
propped the pillow on the tip of the couch and buried the
gun in the pillow. It wouldn't absorb as much noise as a
suppressor, but it was better than nothing.
From his spot behind the couch, Tony had a clear
shot at the front door. The pillow would fuck with his
aim, but all he needed was a body shot, and the door
would frame the guy nicely. Tony didn't think the
shooter would try to come in through the window.
He was right.
In the almost non-existent light, Tony heard more
than saw the guy try to turn the doorknob. The front
porch creaked as the guy shifted his weight. Tony could
almost see him freeze, then try the handle again. The
door was locked, just like the back door, but then Tony
heard a click and a thump -- the guy had a lock gun --
and then the sound of the handle turning.
The guy did have night vision goggles on. The
goggles distorted the size and shape of his head, made
him look like some movie monster instead of just
another goon from back home.
Tony didn't move, he didn't even breathe. He held the
pillow steady so that it would look like it had been
tossed on the back of the couch. He watched the guy
with only one eye, keeping most of his head behind the
pillow. Tony's hair was dark again, not blonde like he'd
bleached it after they first left Jersey. Tony hoped he
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 58
looked like just another shadow in the room, even
through the goggles.
At best, he'd get one, maybe two shots before the guy
trained his own gun on Tony. The best bet would be a
shot to the guy's torso, the biggest target, but so far all
Tony could see of the guy was his goggled head and the
gun he held out in front of himself.
Tony made himself wait. Kept his hand steady, his
breathing light and as quiet as he could. He watched as
the guy swept the front room with his gun, his goggled
head slowly turning in Tony's direction.
When the goggles were pointed directly at him, Tony
froze. He didn't breathe, didn't move, didn't even blink.
Not enough of the guy was in the room to take a chance
at shooting him. If Tony shot now and the bullet didn't
take the guy down, Tony would be as good as dead.
In reality, the guy probably didn't look in Tony's
direction any longer than at any other point he examined
with his night vision gear, but to Tony it felt like an
eternity. The guy turned to the corner where Carter had
been sitting. The guy lowered his head to look at the
floor where he no doubt expected Carter to be bleeding
out.
This shooter was a pro. He didn't flinch when he saw
the floor was empty, but he did take one more step into
the room.
It had to be enough. Tony couldn't wait any longer.
He let his breath out and squeezed the trigger.
Stuffing sprayed out from the pillow along with the
bullet. The sound of the shot wasn't as loud as it would
have been without the pillow of muffle it, but the noise
was still startling in the absolute silence of the house.
The guy with the goggles turned back to Tony before
Tony could even tell if his bullet hit the mark. Tony
squeezed the trigger again and again. And again, hoping
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 59
each time that one of the bullets did enough damage to
keep the guy from firing back.
They didn't.
The guy fired. Tony winced, but the guy's shot went
wide and smacked into the wall to Tony's left.
Then the guy crumpled to his knees, and Tony saw a
wet patch glistening on the front of his dark shirt.
Tony stayed where he was until the guy face planted
on the floor. Moving as fast as he could, Tony got out
from behind the couch and kicked the guy's gun away
from his outstretched hand, then picked it up. He
checked the guy's pulse under the jaw line. He still had
one, but it didn't seem like a strong, steady beat. Tony
didn't want the guy dying in his house, but he wasn't the
one who'd brought the fight here.
Tony thought about taking the night vision goggles,
but decided against it. Now wasn't the time to play
around with technology he'd never used before. The gun,
though -- that Tony kept. The guy'd only fired four
shots, and a suppressor was better than a pillow any day.
The adrenaline rush Tony had felt when the guy first
turned the door knob was beginning to wear off. His
side hurt and his head pounded, but the job wasn't over
yet. There were two more guys out there.
He risked a quick look out the open door. Nothing
moved in the shadows. No more black-clad men in night
vision gear crept up their driveway. Did that mean the
other two would be coming around the back?
He hadn't heard anything from Carter since he left to
cover the back of the house. Carter hadn't yelled for him
after the shooting started, but then again, Carter
wouldn't. He'd wait until the fighting was over to make
sure Tony was okay.
The decision to join Carter at the rear of the house
was an easy one. Tony padded softly down the hall and
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 60
into the kitchen, pausing to check at each open doorway
in case someone had come in through a downstairs
window. No one had.
"It's me," he said softly when he got to the kitchen.
Their back door opened off to the right of the stove
onto a little concrete pad where Carter had set up a gas
grill. The top half of the back door was a lattice-pane
window. Their back yard neighbors had landscaping
spotlights that illuminated their trees. The realtor who'd
first shown them this house warned them that some
people found the lights annoying, but they were within
code, so if they rented the house, they'd have to put up
with the lights. Tony thought it was an odd sales pitch,
but he and Carter were used to city living where there
was constant light and noise. Tony found the lights
soothing in the same way that Carter enjoyed lit candles.
None of their neighbors had turned on any outdoor
lights. Maybe that meant none of the neighbors had
heard the shots Tony fired through the pillow. Enough
ambient light from the spotlights on the neighbor's trees
shone through the back door window that Tony could
see Carter with his back up against the wall to the side
of the door. He'd be out of sight to anybody coming in
through the door until it was too late.
"You okay?" Carter asked.
"Yeah. I got the guy's gun."
Carter made a soft sound, and Tony knew he was
grinning. "Always knew you were a tough guy."
Tough guy. Coming from Carter, that was a
compliment. Uncle Sid never thought Tony had it in
him, one of the reasons he'd never had a closer
relationship with his uncle. He didn't have enough of a
killer instinct to be real family, not in his uncle's eyes.
It struck him then that if the hitter in the front room
died, he'd be the first person Tony had killed. Would
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 61
that finally make his uncle proud?
It didn't matter. His uncle was dead, he and Carter
were alive, and Tony meant to keep it that way. "I got
your back," he said.
"Never doubted it," Carter said.
It didn't take long before the other two guys made
their move. They would have recognized Tony's muffled
shots for what they were, and they'd know there was no
longer any need to be stealthy.
A shadow blocked out part of the light coming in
through the back door. The glass window in the door
shattered inward, and a gloved hand felt around inside
for the lock.
Carter let the guy unlock the door. As soon as the guy
started to step through the open door, Carter grabbed his
arm and pulled him all the way into the kitchen. Carter
used the momentum to swing the guy around and slam
him up against the wall.
The guy had a gun in his other hand, but when he
slammed into the wall, the gun went flying. Carter quick
punched the guy's face and belly, and he dropped to his
knees. Carter clubbed the guy in the back of the head
with the butt end of his gun, and the guy fell flat on the
kitchen floor and didn't move.
Tony let out the breath he'd been holding.
Two down. One left.
That one guy left had to be the guy Tony had pegged
as the leader, the man with the dark hair that would have
been slicked back from his face in Jersey. Muscle
always went in first on a hit. The last guy in would be
the thinker. Tony was counting on that.
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 62
Chapter Eight
Tony almost didn't see the last of the shooters. He'd
been too intent on Carter's fight with the guy who broke
through their back door. When Tony turned back toward
the hall, he saw a dark blur, and then a fist connected
with his jaw.
Tony's head rocked to the side and backward, and he
lost his balance.
The third guy had come in through the open front
door. He'd waited until he heard the commotion in the
kitchen, then made his own move.
By the time Tony got his gun up, the guy had a gun
of his own pointed at Carter.
"Looks like we got a stalemate," Carter said. His
hands hung loose at his side. He stood in the middle of
the dark kitchen seemingly unconcerned about the red
dot in the middle of his chest.
"Put the gun down," Tony said, his voice far calmer
than he felt. He held his own gun steady, pointed at the
center mass of the guy's chest. They stood close enough
to each other that he didn't have to be particular about
his aim.
"You put yours down," the guy said.
"I do that, you kill us both," Tony said. "Don't see the
percentage in that. Do you?" he asked Carter.
"If I was you, I'd just shoot him now," Carter said.
"You'd be dead, too," the guy said to Carter. "You're
the muscle here, not him. Even if he shoots me, I still
get a shot off at you, and I'm pretty damn good at what I
do."
"You got no reason to be here," Tony said. "You
shoot, and you're gonna die for no good reason. That
how you want to go out?"
The guy's eyes flicked off Carter for a split second to
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 63
look at Tony. Tony made sure his aim never wavered.
He wanted the guy to know he was serious.
Tony could almost hear the gears turning in the guy's
head. Enforcers were ruthless, skilled hunters who did
what they were told. Even enforcers who were thinkers
like this guy weren't always the best at working outside
the box. Back when Carter had worked for Tony's uncle,
he hadn't thought much beyond his orders, either. Out
here and away from the family, Carter had stretched
beyond what he'd been back then. Even if Tony's uncle
magically resurrected, no way could Carter -- or Tony --
ever go back to the way things had been.
This enforcer was maybe thirty, tops. Enforcers didn't
live long unless they moved up in the organization to a
position that didn't require them to knock heads for a
living. This guy was either on his way up or on his way
out. Tony was banking that he was on the way up and
smart enough to take an opportunity when it was
presented to him.
"I die, I'd go out killing a couple of faggots," the guy
said.
Carter's expression hardened. "Watch your mouth,"
he said.
The guy laughed, humorless and short. "If I knew I
was coming after a couple of fags like you, I'd have
done the job for free."
He was trying to provoke Carter into doing
something stupid. Tony had to get the guy's attention,
and the easiest way to do that was to turn the insults
around.
"How's it feel?" he asked the guy. "Knowing you got
beat by a couple fags like us?"
"From where I'm standing it don't look like I got
beat."
"Yes, you did." Tony nodded his head at the guy
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 64
sprawled on the kitchen floor. "You're all that's left.
Your boss sent three of you, and you're all that's left.
You shoot now, and you won't be left, either. Whatever
happens, you still got beat by us. And you want to know
what's funny about that?"
The guy didn't want to ask, Tony could tell by the
expression on his face, but he couldn't help himself.
"What?"
Tony 's jaw ached and his head hurt. He was sick of
the stupidity of the entire situation, and he was sick to
death of this guy pointing a gun at Carter. For a
moment, Tony almost shot him on sheer principle, but
he needed the guy to deliver a message, and the guy
couldn't do that if he was dead.
"None of this had to happen," Tony said. "What
family sent you? Which boss?"
"Toretti," the guy said.
Not Luciano like they'd thought, but Toretti. What a
fucking joke. Toretti ran whores and numbers two burgs
over from where Uncle Sid's territory ended. When
Toretti's goons took out Uncle Sid and his lieutenants, it
had been the first salvo in a war over territory. Tony
never thought Toretti would come out on top in that war,
but he must have. Tony hoped Luciano got a big-ass
favor in return when he sold the two of them out to
Toretti.
"Toretti." Carter snorted. "He ain't got but two brain
cells in that puny head of his, and those two don't get
along so well."
Tony could see the muscles in the guy's jaw clench.
"I should shoot you just for disrespecting the boss."
"He disrespected my family," Tony said.
"And you two fags didn't do nothing about it," the
guy said. "Until Jojo comes back from vacation and tells
Luciano this story about seeing ghosts in Idaho, and
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 65
Luciano decides to play nice, the boss don't even know
you two were alive."
Jojo -- the guy on vacation with his wife and two
kids.
"But here you two are, and as long as you're
breathing, the boss has a problem." The guy smiled. "I
eliminate problems, so here I am."
"That's what I'm trying to tell you," Tony said.
"There's no problem here."
"You two are here."
"And we're no problem for your boss. Look around
you. You see any of the families from back home? You
been here long enough to scope us out. You see any
numbers going on? Any protection rackets? We're out of
the business." Tony bit off the last four words to make
them count. "If we're all that's left of my uncle's family,
then there's no family. There's nothing but the two of us.
We're not planning on going back. Are we?" he asked
Carter.
"Not a chance," Carter said.
"You're telling me you two are happy hicks now?"
the guy said. "How come I don't buy that?"
"We're living together," Tony said. "Out here in the
open. We even walk down the fucking sidewalk holding
hands. What's that tell you?"
Tony could see the guy think that one over. He might
not believe anything else that Tony had told him, but the
guy knew what that meant. He had to know, just like
Tony and Carter knew, that the two of them would never
be able to stay together and get any respect from any of
the other families. Even if they wanted to take over
Uncle Sid's old operations, they couldn't, not and still be
together.
"I go back and you're not dead, I got my own
problems to deal with," the guy said. "My boss, he don't
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 66
like it when I walk away from a job."
"You won't be walking away," Tony said. "You'll be
taking a message."
"Oh, yeah? What message?"
"Leave us alone, and we'll leave you alone. No
retribution for my uncle, for the rest of the family. That
score's settled, once and for all."
"That's it?"
"That's it," Tony said.
"And if I say no?"
Tony raised the barrel of his gun so that it pointed at
a spot between the guy's eyes. "Then you don't walk out
of here alive, and I find another way to send the message
to your boss."
"You can't kill us both," Carter said. "Take the deal
and walk out of here alive, or die. It don't matter to me."
"You'd be dead, too," the guy said.
One corner of Carter's mouth quirked up, just a little.
"Like I said, it don't matter to me."
Tony wasn't sure what did it, either the futility of the
situation, simple math, or that little quirk of Carter's
mouth, but the guy finally lowered his gun. When the
red dot disappeared from the front of Carter's shirt, Tony
felt like he could breathe again. He lowered his own
gun.
The guy on the floor groaned and one of his arms
moved, like he was trying to push himself up.
"Get your friend and get the fuck out of here," Tony
said.
The guy didn't want to do it, Tony could tell. He was
a shooter, not a pack horse. He looked at the guy on the
floor like so much dead weight, and for a moment, Tony
thought he'd shoot the man himself.
In the end, the shooter put his gun in a shoulder
holster and bent to help the guy on the floor get to his
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 67
feet.
"You got one more in the living room," Tony said.
"Except I don't think he's getting up."
"Then he's your problem," the shooter said.
* * *
This time the sheriff wasn't as accommodating.
One dead body and a middle of the night shootout
apparently wasn't what the sheriff had in mind when
he'd told Tony to keep his nose clean. Only the fact that
there were bullet holes in the front window and another
one over the couch, not to mention the fact that the dead
guy had night vision goggles and was all the way inside
the front door, kept the sheriff from charging Tony with
manslaughter.
The sheriff definitely wasn't happy with their story
about Tony's gun. Carter had gotten rid of Tony's gun --
all the guns in the house -- before they'd called the
sheriff to report the invasion of their home. Tony didn't
know how, and he didn't want to. The less he knew, the
less he'd have to lie about. They'd told the sheriff that
the dead guy's accomplice had stolen Tony's gun, but
Tony knew the sheriff didn't buy the story. He just had
no evidence that Tony was lying.
Not that the sheriff didn't try. He kept Tony in the
little interrogation room for more than two hours trying
to shake his story, but Tony had been grilled by cops
back in Jersey. He knew how to stick to his story and
otherwise keep his mouth shut.
Finally, Sheriff Sewell leaned back in his chair. He
pointed a small remote at the camera in the upper corner
of the interrogation room. Tony wasn't surprised that the
interrogation had been recorded. He was surprised when
the sheriff turned the camera off.
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 68
If they'd been in Jersey, turning the camera off would
have been the prelude to a more physical form of
questioning by a dirty cop on another family's payroll.
Tony didn't think that would be the case now. Sewell
didn't strike him as a guy on anybody's payroll except
the county's.
"You two bring trouble with you," the sheriff said. "I
know what you are, and I know if you were in a
talkative mood, you'd swear up and down that you've
left the life behind."
Tony kept his mouth shut. There it was, out in the
open. Sewell was studying Tony with his flat cop's eyes,
waiting for a reaction from Tony. Tony made sure not to
give him one.
The sheriff was pushing fifty, but there wasn't an
ounce of fat on him. His uniform was pressed and neat,
and the only way Tony could tell that the man had been
dragged out of bed to deal with Tony and Carter was the
hint of stubble on his face. No, Sewell was anything but
a country bumpkin cop, and he was nobody they could
cajole. The best they could hope for was a stalemate.
"So, let's say you've left the life behind," Sewell said.
"Maybe you have. Norman and Bess tell me you're good
boys. Maybe you are. But you're still trouble."
Tony narrowed his eyes. "You about to run us out of
town?"
The sheriff sighed. "Not my style," he said. "But if
you are good boys like they say you are, you might want
to think about relocating voluntarily."
"We got a life here. Got a business."
Sewell nodded. "And friends who care about you. I
understand that."
"Then maybe you got a problem with us because of
something else?"
The sheriff wouldn't be the first cop Tony knew who
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 69
was a homophobe, but the idea made him sad. Made him
think that the Munroe brothers might be getting off with
just a slap on the wrist.
The sheriff's mouth set in a tight line. "I don't care if
you're queer or straight or swing both ways. That's not
the issue here, and I figure you're smart enough to know
it. My job is to care about the safety of the citizens of
this town and the tourists who keep their businesses in
business. What I hope you care about is the safety of
your friends. Bess could have ended up dead. Your
neighbors could have been hit by a stray bullet. The little
girl who lives across the street from you, the Connors'
kid, she could have been killed by one of those guys
who came gunning for you."
Tony knew the little girl the sheriff was talking
about. He'd never known her name, but she was pretty
and blonde and had a pink bicycle that she rode back
and forth to school, and if she was ten, she was old.
The sheriff stood up. He folded the little notepad he'd
used to take notes during his interrogation closed and
put it in the breast pocket of his uniform shirt.
"That mean we're done here?" Tony asked.
"We're done."
Sewell held the door to the interrogation room open,
and Tony left. His side hurt, a dull throbbing that ran
counterpoint to the pounding of his aching head. The
aspirin he'd swallowed before the enforcers hit the house
had worn off hours ago. Now that the shooters were
taken care of, Tony intended to take the pain pills the
E.R. doctor had given him and sleep for about a week.
The sheriff's office was in an old, stucco building
across the street from City Hall. From the outside it
looked no bigger than the church where Tony had
attended mass every Sunday with his uncle's family.
Uncle Sid always sat up front, and every Sunday Tony
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 70
had walked up and down the main aisle to that front pew
without a second thought. Now the corridor from the
interrogation room to the little room out front where
Carter waited for him looked longer than a football field.
With the sheriff following close behind him, Tony had
to force himself to make that walk look no more difficult
than strolling down the aisle at church.
Instead of opening the last door between Tony and
freedom, the sheriff put his hand on the doorknob.
What now?
Sewell waited until Tony looked him in the eye.
"Think about what I said. If any of the people you care
about get hurt because of you, if that little girl across the
street gets so much as a hangnail because of you, you
won't be walking out of a place like this until you're old
and gray."
Tony didn't say anything. There was nothing he could
say.
After a moment, the sheriff opened the door. Carter
stood up from the bench seat where he'd been waiting,
looked between Tony and the sheriff, but didn't ask how
it went. The fact that Tony wasn't in handcuffs spoke
volumes.
"Keep your noses clean," the sheriff said again, then
he shut the door, leaving Tony and Carter alone.
Carter took Tony's hand, held it gently. "You ready to
go?"
"Beyond ready." He didn't look back at the closed
door. "Let's get the fuck out of here."
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 71
Chapter Nine
Tony slept for what felt like days.
When he woke up, the sun was shining, brilliant hot
light outside the bedroom window. They were back in a
suite at Bess' bed and breakfast. The house they rented
was a crime scene. They wouldn't be able to go back
until the sheriff's people released the place. Given how
the sheriff felt about them, Tony had no idea when that
might be.
He blinked until his eyes focused, then he looked at
the bedside clock. Nearly eleven in the morning. They
should have been at the deli four hours ago.
He'd taken his pain pills before he'd finally climbed
into bed just as the sky was turning pale pink in the east.
The pills had put him out like a light. Now every muscle
in his body felt stiff and sore. When he sat up, his
abused side protested. The skin felt tight where he had
stitches, but at least he didn't have the hot, cotton-
headed feeling of a fever.
He must have made some sort of noise, because
before he got his feet on the floor, Carter appeared in the
bedroom doorway. "Hey, sleepyhead," Carter said,
grinning. "'Bout time you woke up."
"Fuck you," Tony said, managing a small grin. "How
come you're not at work?"
"Figured we could use a day off, so I made an
executive decision. We're taking a holiday."
"Holiday?"
"Yeah. The first annual Tony and Carter Kicked the
Bad Guys' Collective Asses Day."
"Catchy name."
"Think Hallmark will put out a card?"
Tony snorted. "Hate to imagine what'd be on the front
of it."
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 72
The floors in the suite were hardwood. Bess had put a
few throw rugs here and there – hardwood was fucking
cold in the middle of an Idaho winter – but now the cool
wood felt good beneath Tony's feet. He shuffled his way
into the tiny bathroom. The tub wasn't as big as the one
in their house, but it was big enough.
"I need a bath," he said to Carter when he was done
with the toilet and brushing his teeth. "Want to join
me?"
"No bath." Carter handed him a mug of coffee. The
suites at Bess' came complete with kitchens. From the
smell, Carter had put this one to good use. "Not 'til those
bandages come off."
"I stink."
Carter leaned in and kissed him. "I don't mind."
Tony let himself enjoy the kiss. Carter hadn't shaved
yet, and the stubble of his beard felt rough and
wonderful against Tony's face. "I need a shave, too,"
Tony said.
"You need a sponge bath, a shampoo, and a shave."
"Fucking sponge bath?" Sponge baths were for old
shits who couldn't get themselves out of bed.
"Doctor's orders."
"Yeah?"
Carter grinned and grabbed a washcloth. "Dr. Carter."
He closed the lid on the toilet. "Now sit down and let me
get to work."
Tony sat.
He'd worn a simple, white tee-shirt to bed along with
a loose pair of boxers. Carter turned the tap on in the
sink, and while he waited for the water to heat up, he
helped Tony off with the tee-shirt.
"Hurt much?" Carter asked when Tony lifted his arms
and winced.
"Not so much as if he'd gotten a better shot at me."
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 73
"If he'd gotten a better shot at you, we wouldn't be
talking now."
No, they wouldn't. They'd gotten lucky, both
yesterday afternoon and last night. Tony knew it, and so
did Carter.
Tony peered down at his side. The skin poking from
beneath the bandages wasn't as red as he expected. He
had some bruises that hadn't been there yesterday when
the E.R. doctor patched him up. The bandages didn't
have any blood staining the white gauze. No bleeding,
even after last night. Another good sign.
Carter stoppered the sink, and after it filled with hot
water, shut off the taps. The sound of running water
gone, the sounds of mid-day in the height of tourist
season filtered in through the open bathroom window.
Bess' place was on the main drag a block down from the
deli and right next to a Tex-Mex restaurant. >From the
sounds of things, the restaurant wasn't hopping busy yet,
but the staff was making enough noise banging pots and
pans around and yelling back and forth to each other
than it almost drowned out the South of the Border
canned music blaring out of the restaurant's speakers.
Even with all the racket from next door, Tony liked
life here. He liked the deli and the customers, even the
ones who couldn't make up their minds what to buy. He
liked Julie, and he couldn't have asked for better friends
than Norman and Bess. He liked the house he and Carter
lived in, and the way they both fit in the tub like it was
made for them. He even liked the way the bed springs
squeaked and the mattress thumped against the wall
when Carter made love to him with all the tenderness
and power in that hard-muscled body of his.
"I don't want to leave," Tony said, like he was
answering a question that hadn't been asked.
Carter lifted his head from where he'd been gently
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 74
washing the skin around Tony's bandages. His eyes were
soft now with an emotion that he mostly kept under
wraps. "Then don't," he said.
"Sheriff knows who we are. Not our real names, but
who we are." They both used names that weren't exactly
the same ones on their birth certificates. Carter had kept
his old last name for his first. Tony had taken a generic
last name. But it wouldn't take much for the sheriff to
put it together, not now that he had a dead body in the
morgue that could be traced back to Jersey. "He's
motivated. He'll figure it out."
"He let you go last night."
"He wants us to leave. He's giving us the
opportunity."
Carter sat back on his heels. "And you're gonna take
it." It wasn't a question.
Tony reached out for Carter's hand and held it. So
much strength in Carter's thick fingers. He didn't want to
leave, either. Tony had to make him see it was the smart
thing to do.
"I'd rather spend my life on the road in that fucking
van of yours just to make sure you're with me than risk
seeing either one of us in jail. I'm not about to live my
life without you. I think we said something about that, in
a room not that much different than this one."
They'd actually said vows to each other, spoken their
love out loud, the same night the Munroe brothers had
thrown a rock through the deli's front window. Then
Carter had taken Tony to bed and fucked him nearly
senseless, and it had seemed like life couldn't get any
better.
Carter's lips thinned, and for a moment Tony thought
he'd have an argument on his hands. Then Carter said,
"My fucking van? The same van that brought your sorry
ass cross country?" He smiled. "The same van where I
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 75
first fucked you?"
Tony smiled back. "Off the side of the road in the
middle of fucking nowhere? Where you popped my
cherry? Yeah, that van, and I bet I wasn't the first cherry
you popped in that thing."
Carter leaned forward and kissed him. "The only one
that counted, paisan," he said. "The only one that
counted."
* * *
They kept the deli closed for two more days while
they worked out the details of what they were going to
do and Tony's wounds healed.
On the second day, the sheriff released the house, and
Tony and Carter moved out of the bed and breakfast. By
then, Tony was sick and tired of sponge baths, even with
Carter giving him a hand job and finishing him off with
his mouth.
The next day, they opened the deli back up like
nothing had happened. Their first customers were Bess
and Norman, who each ordered more than they'd eat in a
week and brushed off Tony's attempt not to charge them.
Carter came out from the back, and the four of them sat
around one of the deli's small tables.
"You sure about this?" Norman asked.
"Never meant this to be permanent," Tony lied.
They'd called Bess and Norman the night they'd made
the decision to leave. There'd been gentle hugs and near
tears, but Tony had a hunch their friends already knew
he and Carter would be leaving.
"Besides," Tony said. "I've been through winter here
already, and once was enough."
"He don't like to shovel snow," Carter said. "Fucking
lightweight." He looked at Bess. "Pardon my French."
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 76
She waved a hand at him. "Nothing I haven't heard
before, and probably said myself."
Norman smiled at her. "And I should know."
"Yes, you should, you old coot." Bess' answering
smile made Tony's heart ache. They were the only
people he would truly miss.
"I want to thank you both for everything you've done
for us," Tony said. "Everything you're going to do."
"We're happy to do it," Norman said. "Does she know
yet?"
"Not yet." Carter said. He looked at the clock on the
back wall. "We asked her to come in a little early."
"We'll let you know how it goes," Tony said.
"Do you have a backup plan?" Norman asked.
"Hoping we don't need one."
"Well, then, good luck." Bess reached across the
table, and with a surprisingly strong grip, pulled Tony
forward by his apron just enough to give him a kiss on
his cheek. "Let us know how things go for you, and not
just with this."
She looked at him hard, and Tony got the message.
He didn't know how to tell her that she'd never hear
from him again.
The deli was busy all morning, like the word had
spread around town that they were open. The customers
were a mix of locals and tourists. The locals wanted
bagels and coffee and even some of the ziti that filled
the deli with the aroma of Italian cheese and garlic. The
tourists wanted sandwiches and antipasto salad and
loaves of sourdough bread and sour pickles from the
plastic barrel. Tony figured they did more business in
the two hours before Julie and her mom came in the
front door than they did most days even during their
busiest weeks.
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 77
Julie looked nervous, like she was afraid they were
going to fire her. Tony had called her the night before to
let her know that the deli would be open and to ask her
to come in a half hour early because they had something
important to talk to her about. She'd apparently brought
her mother along for moral support. Tony was surprised
-- Julie had always struck him as a self-sufficient kid --
but in a way, it made what they were about to do a little
easier.
"Hey, guys," Julie said. She handled the introductions
like an adult, but all the while her fingers worried the
edges of her apron.
Tony smiled at the both of them. "Relax. No firing
squad today, okay?"
Julie smiled back, only a small smile, but her fingers
stopped twisting the white cotton apron.
"C'mon back," Tony said, holding open the pass-
through from the restaurant proper to behind the counter.
"We got something we want to talk to you about." He
looked at Julie's mom, Eleanor. "Both of you, since
you're here."
Eleanor was a small woman in her late forties. Life
had not been kind to her, and it showed on her face and
in the way she carried herself. Her hair was shot through
with gray, her shoulders slumped, the skin underneath
her chin baggy, and her eyes tired. Still, Tony could see
traces of the good-looking girl she'd once been, like her
daughter. He hoped they would accept what he and
Carter planned to do.
There really wasn't anywhere to sit in the back, so
Tony and Carter leaned against the big steel refrigerator,
Julie stood near the door between the deli and the
kitchen, and Eleanor leaned against the sink. Julie's
hands had started to twist the edges of her apron again.
"We have an offer we want to make to you," Tony
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 78
said to Julie. "We want to sell you the deli."
Julie froze, her eyes widening. "What?"
"We're leaving town. We want to sell you this
business."
Julie shot a startled glance at her mother. "We don't
have that kind of money," Eleanor said.
"We'd set it up so you could make payments."
Eleanor's eyes narrowed. "What kind of payments?
What kind of interest?"
So Eleanor had a good idea what they'd been, too.
Did she always know? Or was it something she'd figured
out in the last few days? The business at Tony and
Carter's house hadn't exactly been front page news, but
this was a small town, and small towns thrived on
gossip. Tony figured pretty much all the locals knew
he'd killed someone who'd broken into their house and
that other gunmen had gotten away. Put that together
with their obvious roots, and everyone probably thought
he was the real life equivalent of Tony Soprano.
If nothing else, Eleanor's reaction let Tony know
they'd made the right decision about leaving.
"Look," Tony said. "What we want to do here is sell
you a business you can keep running. We like this place,
and we like this town, and most of all," he said, staring
at Julie, "we like you. We're not going to squeeze you.
This deal is on the up and up."
"Or so you say," Eleanor said. "What's to say you
won't want it back?"
"Once we're gone, we're gone," Tony said. "You
won't hear from us again. You make payments to
Norman, reasonable payments. Something you can
afford."
Norman and Bess had agreed to be the go-between
when Tony approached them with the idea of selling the
business to Julie. Norman said he'd have no problem
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 79
depositing the money in an account Tony would set up
just for that purpose. Tony intended to have the sale
handled by a local escrow company, everything above
board and legit.
"Business isn't great here during the winter," Julie
said.
"Then we lower the payments so you can keep the
place going. Or you can close up shop during the winter
and live off the summer profits." Half the businesses on
Main Street operated that way. "Up to you."
Julie looked at Carter. "So you're really leaving?"
Carter nodded, just the slightest movement of his
head. "Time to hit the road again. See what else is out
there that we haven't seen yet."
"You know, not everybody feels like those jerks,"
Julie said. "Like you shouldn't be here, or shouldn't be
together. Isn't that why you're leaving?"
"Julie," Eleanor said, her voice low and intense, like
her daughter had asked someone dangerous something
inappropriate and might be handed her head for her
trouble.
Carter looked at Tony. This was Tony's question to
answer, since it had been his decision to leave.
"Those jerks are going to keep being jerks until
someone we care about gets hurt," Tony said.
"Like Bess," Julie said.
"Yeah," Tony said. "Like Bess. Or Norman." He
looked at her, let her see a little of the worry that made
the hard decision a little easier. "Like you. We don't
want that to happen because of us."
Julie swallowed hard, and her eyes swam, but the
moisture didn't spill over.
"We can take care of ourselves," Tony said. "We've
been doing it for a long time. But we can't take care of
everyone we know and still run this business. You
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 80
understand that?"
Julie nodded, the movement as slight as Carter's had
been. At that moment she looked very small. "I think
so," she said.
"Will you think about it?" Tony said. "Just don't take
too long." They planned to be gone within a week,
whether the business sale went through or not. If Julie
didn't buy the deli, they'd walk away and leave
everything behind.
Eleanor stepped away from the sink, walked over to
Tony and looked him in the eye. "Swear to me that
you're being truthful," she said. "That you won't hurt my
baby girl."
Tony could have taken offense, but he didn't. He
might have made the same demand if someone had
offered a seemingly unbelievable deal to Carter. "I love
your daughter like she was my kid sister," Tony said,
returning Eleanor's frank stare. "Anybody hurt her, I'd
rip his heart out. I'm not about to be the one who does
the hurting."
Eleanor stared at him hard. Tony didn't look away.
In the end, she must have been satisfied with what
she saw. "Julie?" she asked her daughter.
Julie looked down at her hands. They were shaking.
"Oh, shit. That's not good." She looked up at her mom.
"Do you think I can do this? I still have a half-year left
of high school."
"I think you can do anything you want," Eleanor said.
"But I think we should sit on this for a day, then talk
about it some more." Eleanor looked at Tony, then at
Carter. "If she gives you an answer tomorrow, is that
soon enough?"
"Definitely."
"What about Jason?" Julie looked guilty, like she'd
just thought of something she shouldn't have forgotten.
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 81
Jason worked in the deli sometimes, but that was
more of an excuse for him to spend time working on
strength training with Carter. The kid was in denial
about being gay. Tony didn't blame him. The kid had
been beaten by some other kids -- probably relatives of
the Munroes -- just because they thought he was gay.
Carter had offered to teach the kid how to take care of
himself. The ruse of working at the deli was to mollify
the kid's religious mom.
The strength training had paid off, and not just in
added muscles. Jason wasn't working at the deli now
because he was at a football camp sponsored by the
church his mom attended. Julie had told Tony that it was
the first organized sport Jason had ever tried out for.
"Hire him if you want," Tony said. "You'll be the one
calling the shots."
She looked startled at that. Tony doubted she'd ever
called the shots about any part of her life. "What
about..." she gestured at Carter, the rest of the sentence
unsaid.
"He'll be fine," Carter said. "You tell him I said he's a
good kid."
Tony held out his hand. Julie took it, and they shook
hands like the deal was done. "Take today off, with
pay." He could feel her still trembling. "The customers
will be glad you did, considering I don't think you're up
to handling food right now."
She laughed, a nervous, relieved, embarrassed sound.
"When you come in tomorrow, you let us know what
you've decided. If you want to do this, we'll sit down
with the books and come up with numbers that work for
everybody. Okay?"
"Yeah," Julie said. She finally smiled, and Tony
thought he knew what her answer would be. "Yeah," she
said again. "Okay."
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 82
Chapter Ten
"Last night here," Carter said to Tony. "I think we
should celebrate."
The house looked empty, even though the furniture
would be staying. Most of it had come with the house,
anyway. The few things they'd bought during their stay,
like the chair where Carter had sat during the night
waiting for the shooters to attack them and the queen
size bed they shared, wouldn't fit in the van. Tony
wondered what the new tenants would make of the
bullet holes in the chair. He and Carter had already fixed
the hole in the wall and paid to have the living room
cleaned.
They'd be traveling light. Not as light as when they'd
left Jersey with just the clothes on their backs and the
stuff Carter had in the back of his van, including the
money he'd been stashing in the side panels. This time
they had duffel bags and suitcases filled with clothes
and things that were important to them, like the
champagne bottle from the night they'd said their vows
and the photographs they'd taken on the houseboat
where they’d spent their honeymoon. They had two
down sleeping bags and enough blankets to keep warm
even in winter in case they had to sleep in the van, but
Tony expected they'd be spending most nights in motels.
They had the guns the sheriff hadn't found and enough
ammunition to take care of themselves if Toretti sent
more guys after them. Tony didn't think he would, but it
didn't hurt to be prepared.
Yesterday afternoon they'd signed the papers and
turned the keys to the deli over to Julie and her mom.
Julie had decided, after talking with a lawyer and no
doubt after a lot of discussion with her mom, to put her
mom's name on the business along with her own. Tony
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 83
didn't care. He had a gut feeling about Eleanor, and that
feeling said she wouldn't cheat her daughter out of the
business. That was good enough for Tony. As long as
Julie was taken care of, he was good with that.
They’d celebrated selling the deli with a dinner at
Bess' restaurant, just the six of them: Tony and Carter,
Eleanor and Julie, Bess and Norman. Tony pretended
not to see the tears in Bess' eyes when she hugged him
one last time, and Norman pretended that the smile he
pasted on his face was genuine. Even Carter had been
misty-eyed when they'd finally climbed into his van for
the drive home.
The last night this would be their home.
"I got kinda fond memories of this place," Carter
said.
"Yeah?"
Carter grabbed him in a bear hug from behind.
"Yeah."
Tony didn't wince. The stitches were out, and his
bruises were almost gone. He'd taken a shower that
morning, and it had felt like heaven.
"You wanna take a bath with me?" Tony asked. "I
feel like a good soak."
Carter's lips grazed the back of his neck. "That all
you feel like?"
Tony grinned. "It's a start."
Carter ran the bath water, complete with bubbles,
while Tony stripped out of his clothes. Tony had
discovered early on that Carter preferred bubble baths
when he was in a romantic mood. If the amount of
bubbles was any indication, he was in for a long night of
lovemaking, not fucking. He was good with that, too.
Carter got in first, then Tony climbed in and settled in
Carter's arms. The bubbles tickled his chest, the hot
water loosened his muscles, and the hard steel of
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 84
Carter's cock against his ass made his own cock twitch.
"I'm gonna miss this tub," Carter said.
"We'll get one and put it in the van."
Carter chuckled. "Wouldn't that be the thing. Then
we could do this in the middle of nowhere." He reached
around Tony, one large hand cupping Tony's balls.
Tony dropped his head back against Carter's
shoulder. "Yeah, I'm gonna miss this tub, too."
Carter squeezed, just enough pressure to get Tony's
cock's attention. His lips pressed against the side of
Tony's face. "You remember the first time we did this?"
"First time you grabbed my balls?"
A deep chuckle rumbled through Carter's chest. Tony
felt it in his bones. "Yeah, that, too."
For a while, they stayed like that, Tony soaking,
Carter fondling him, pressing soft kisses on his skin.
Tony was hard now, but it was the kind of hard he could
sustain without an aching need to come.
"You got anyplace you'd like to go?" Tony asked.
Carter's hand stopped moving under the water. "You
don't have that already figured out?"
"Figured we'd talk about it."
They didn't have too many choices for roads leading
out of town. They could either go north and into Canada
or south toward Coeur d'Alene. If they skirted the lake
to the east, in less than twenty miles they'd be in
Montana.
"We never planned on stopping here," Carter said.
No, they hadn't. They'd just been driving and things
worked out.
"So that's what you want to do?" Tony asked. "Just
point the van down the road and see what happens?"
"Long as we don't wind up back in Jersey."
Tony trailed one hand under the water, rubbed his
fingertips across Carter's thickly muscled thigh. "You
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 85
ever miss it?"
"Busting heads?"
"Yeah."
"Nah."
Tony smiled. "Good to know."
They didn't have as much money as they'd had when
they left Jersey, but they had enough to get by. Neither
of them cared about an extravagant lifestyle. They'd end
up somewhere else that felt good, and they'd stay there
for a while. It didn't much matter to him where that was
as long as Carter was with him.
"So, we go south for a while?" Tony asked.
Carter chuckled. The hand that wasn't fondling
Tony's balls squeezed in between their bodies, and Tony
felt Carter's fingers probing at his backside.
"That a direction or a request?" Carter asked.
He didn't wait for Tony to answer before he pushed
one thick finger inside. Playing with his balls had
loosened Tony up, and once inside, Carter knew exactly
where to press.
Tony let out a long, low moan as Carter continued to
fondle him inside and out. He let his head fall back on
Carter's shoulder. This was heaven.
"Maybe we should take the fucking tub," Tony
muttered.
"Mmmm," Carter said, his mouth against the back of
Tony's neck.
Carter's hand had started squeezing Tony's balls in a
rhythm almost like the one Carter used when he was
making love to Tony with his cock, not his hands. Tony
couldn't keep his hips still.
"You gonna grab my cock here eventually?" he
asked.
Carter's lips moved up to Tony's ear. "You are," he
murmured.
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 86
Tony shuddered, then he grabbed his own cock and
started stroking in time to what Carter was doing with
his hands.
The feeling was incredible. Carter had added a
second finger, filling him up, and was rubbing and
squeezing his balls, all the while Tony was adding the
friction his cock so desperately needed. He didn't stroke
fast -- he didn't need to. He felt entirely possessed and
loved and cherished, and that, more than anything else,
was what made him come.
While he was still so relaxed he felt he could float
forever right there and be perfectly happy, Carter lifted
him up just enough so that Carter could slip his cock
inside. Carter only thrust a few times, almost like he
wanted to be careful because they hadn't lubed up, and
then he came, too.
Tony sat like that on Carter's lap, Carter's cock
softening inside him, for so long that his wet skin dried
in the warm night air. He'd been content here. They'd
been content here, but maybe it wasn't so much the place
on the map as it was the place they'd come to as a
couple. It really, truly didn't matter where they ended up,
or even if they never settled down again but just
wandered from place to place.
Tony took Carter's hand from beneath the water
where it was still cupped loosely around his balls. He
brought Carter's fingers to his lips and kissed each one.
"We're gonna do okay," he said. "We're gonna be
okay."
He could almost feel Carter's smile.
"Never doubted it," Carter said.
The End
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 87
If you enjoyed this, try these other titles by Aaron
Michaels from Torquere Press!
Wiseguys
Tony's family isn’t your average bunch of relations.
His uncle Sid is a mob boss with connections. Tony
finds himself a little out of his league, aside from his
friend and bodyguard, Carter. When the family business
falls to him, Tony has a tough decision to make. Stay
and do a job he hates, or take Carter and run. Even if he
can get away, Tony's not sure he and Carter can make a
life together. What does the future hold for these
wiseguys?
Naughty: Wiseguys: Christmas in Idaho
Wiseguys Tony and Carter are back, and they're in
Idaho for Christmas, thanks to the snow. When Carter
decides he wants to learn to ski, they head for the local
supply shop, bonding a little with the owner. Things go
awry for the pair, though, and they're not sure they'll
even survive the holiday. Can Tony and Carter make it
through?
Animal Attraction 2
Love animals? Love hot men who love each other?
Animal Attraction 2 has all that and more. Talented
authors Kiernan Kelly, Aaron Michaels, Jane Davitt, CB
Potts, Julia Talbot, and Sean Michael go all out to prove
that animals can bring people together, and that love can
turn up in unexpected places and in unusual ways. From
slow and steady to a hot, fast burn, the romance is right
there for the taking, right along with the adventure.
With slithering boa constrictors, big cats, and rodeo
roughstock, the stories in Animal Attraction 2 will take
you from the jungles of the Amazon forest to the snow-
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 88
topped mountains of Central Asia to glamorous
Hollywood mansions. Racing after dangerous
predators—and dangerous men—the heroes in these
stories are all chasing something. Or is something
always chasing them?
Comstock
Reggie Grayson has a secret admirer. A traveling
Shakespearean actor in 1883 Virginia City, Reggie's
already been robbed at gunpoint by a masked bandit,
and now he's receiving drawings and roses from a
mystery man who won't leave his name. Is this any way
to make his debut as a leading man?
Desperate to discover if his secret admirer is the
ruggedly handsome man who watches the stage from
the shadows of a private box, Reggie's quest to meet the
man of his dreams plunges him headlong into danger
and intrigue in the lawless days of the silver rush on the
Comstock Lode.
Wiseguys: Blast from the Past - 89
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