Guns 'n Money: Episode 1 Read online



  Guns ’n Money

  by Ty Johnston

  Copyright 2012

  Chapter 1: Home Sweet Home

  The second I climb out of the taxi, the bullets start flying. Dropping my suitcase, I duck down behind the cab, reaching inside my jacket for a piece, but then remember I haven’t carried a piece in years. Hell, I haven’t done anything in years.

  The bullets keep right on coming, a half dozen of them now, snapping against the road and the sidewalk all around me and the taxi, spitting up chunks of gray and black. I’m looking around for a better place to hide when the cabbie decides he doesn’t need to get paid and he peels off, his ride kicking out black smoke and leaving me in the open.

  A couple more bullets. This time right around me. I don’t even have time to look who it is doing the shooting. I can feel the tiny shrapnel pieces of concrete darting up from the sidewalk and lancing against my cheeks.

  I duck and roll, heading for an alley between two brownstones. I forget my luggage. A few more bullets are right behind me, missing by inches, crashing into the alley’s walls.

  As I enter the cool darkness of the alley, I spin around and look out. Across the street there’s a black sedan peeling out, leaving a trail of black rubber. I can’t make out the driver, but for just a moment I spy the shooter, some guy in a black hoodie hanging out the passenger window on the other side. He’s sporting a 9mm, the bastard. He gets off one more shot, the bullet going wide, then the car is gone.

  I breath softer for the moment. Welcome back to the big city, Jackie. Not even out of prison a day and you’re already getting shot at. But who the hell would want me dead? I mean, I been locked away for five years, and as far as I know I ain’t got no enemies on the outside. At least none living, anyways.

  I’m just about to regain my nerve and stroll back to the sidewalk to retrieve my suitcase when a sports car the color of a baboon’s ass slams on the brakes and screeches to a stop on the street in front of me.

  I nearly turn and run as the passenger door is thrown open.

  But then I hear a familiar voice, one I hadn’t heard in a long while. Tony Olivetti. “Jackie! Get your ass in here!”

  Smiling, I glance out the end of the alley. Nobody else is shooting at me and no more dark sedan in sight. Keeping my head low, I chug out to the sidewalk, grab up my suitcase and dive into the Italian sports car.

  Squirming around in the seat until I’m sitting straight, I toss my case in the back and slam the door closed. Looking to the driver, I say, “Good to see you again, Tony. I think you just saved my ass.”

  Chapter 2: Back in the Saddle

  Tony leads the way and opens the door for me as we stroll into the room. The place is an office, elegant by anybody’s standards. Thick carpet. Glass windows from floor to ceiling on the left. A big, heavy desk of rosewood in the center of the room. On the right a dark wall with paintings by Rembrandt or Picasso or somebody.

  Behind the desk sits a hefty guy in a pinstripe suit, dark glasses covering his eyes, one ear glued to a phone. He looks up and nods at me and Tony, then holds up a hand. After a few seconds, he says something into the phone, then hangs it up.

  This guy is Roberto Carcinni, an up-and-coming guy in the Family. Not a top dog, you got to understand, but one of the younger fellahs working his way up. From my vantage point, he’s already pretty high up, but I’m smart enough to know that in the bigger scheme of things, Roberto is still small fry compared to the big boys of Chisel City.

  “Tony!” Roberto shouts out as he tugs down his sunglasses and drops them on his desk. He stands and comes around the desk, giving my friend Tony a hug.

  Then the two turn and look at me.

  Tony points to me. “This is Jackie Cruise, boss. I was telling you about him.”

  Roberto nods. “That’s right. Jackie, I hear you just got out.”

  “Yes, sir,” I say. Always be polite to the guys with money and guns.

  “What they get you for?” he asks.

  “Armed robbery,” Tony says before I can answer. “Can you believe that shit?”

  The two chuckle, then Roberto says to me, “What were you holding up?”

  “Appliance shop,” I say with a grin. “Was supposed to deliver some goods to your brother that night, but ... well, I didn’t make it.”

  Roberto’s older brother Francis had been my boss back in the day, but Francis had moved up in the world, was a lot higher on ye olde totem pole than Roberto now was. My guess was the Family wanted me back in, probably trusted me after I’d kept my mouth shut all these years, did my time like a man and never snitched on anybody, even when all it would have taken was a word and I would have been out on the street in a matter of days. Of course, I’d probably have been dead soon after, but it is what it is. I kept mum, thus earning some respect. That was probably why Tony had been there to pick me up near the bus stop. I don’t know where I would have gone if Tony hadn’t picked me up, but I would have thought of something, maybe an old relative’s place until I could have gotten myself straight. With Tony showing, I was already ahead on getting myself straight. I was here, in front of a Carcinni, which meant they wanted me back in. Which meant I had a job. Things were looking up.

  But who the hell had been shooting at me?

  The question is almost on my lips as Tony says, “Boss, you wouldn’t believe what we ran into.”

  Roberto gives him a quizzical look.

  “Just as I’m pulling up,” Tony explains, “a couple of asshats take a few shots at Jackie here from across the street.”

  “That so?” Roberto asks me.

  I nod. “Yeah. Don’t know why.”

  “That would be the Sardonas,” Roberto says with a frown.

  “Sardonas?” I say. “I knew a Frankie Sardona back in the day, but he and I never had any bad blood between us.”

  Roberto grimaces. “Things have changed, Jackie. Times are different now. Frankie Sardona used to be one of our best boys, but he went solo two, three years back. Built up his own team. Now he thinks he can force his way into the racket, add his own name to that of the Family.”

  “But why the hell was he shooting at me?”

  “Probably didn’t want us to get our hands on you,” Roberto says. “Hey, look, you and me, we never worked together, but my brother and Tony here have nothing but good to say about you. So I wanted you in. Frankie and his boys probably got word of it, or maybe they just knew you were getting out, and they decided to take you down before you could get to us. Sort of a preemptive strike, if you know what I mean.”

  I nod. Yeah, sure, I knew what he meant. But if Sardona was behind this, it seemed an awful bold move to try to take someone out in the middle of the day on a public street, especially when that someone had possible ties to the Carcinni clan. If Frankie was willing to do that, then he must think he’s got a lot of clout, a lot of power. He must not have feared the cops or the Carcinnis. Or he was batshit crazy.

  Roberto pats me on a shoulder. “Look, Jackie, how about Tony here gets you set up someplace decent, then we get you doing a few low level jobs? Just some light work to get your hand back into things? Then in a few weeks, if you feel up to it, we’ll get you back into some heavy hitting? What do you say?”

  “Sounds good to me, Mr. Carcinni.” What else was I going to say?

  Roberto turns to Tony. “You got this?”

  “I got it,” Tony says. “Jollie Lemon has been needing a hand, so I figured we’d help him out.”

  “Good.” Roberto pats my shoulder again. “You boys need anything, don’t hesitate to call.”

  “Yes, sir,” Tony says.

  “Yes, sir,” I repeat.