Chapter 6 - Carmine's Blood Throne
|
By noon the following day, Chicago was drowning in rumors and fear.
I walked into a corner bodega three blocks from the row house, wearing an oversized hooded jacket and dark glasses.
The television mounted above the cash register was tuned to the local news.
"Breaking news in the criminal underworld," the anchor announced against a backdrop of police tape.
"Chicago police have confirmed that prominent businessman Gabriel Falcone was declared dead late last night following a violent shooting in Pilsen."
"However, authorities are investigating a bizarre turn of events after Falcone's body reportedly went missing from his private estate before dawn."
The screen switched to live footage of Carmine standing on the steps of the Drake Hotel, surrounded by twenty armed men in charcoal suits.
He wore a black silk tie and a look of manufactured grief that turned my stomach.
"Our beloved leader was stolen from us by rival factions who wished to desecrate his memory," Carmine told the bank of microphones.
"As the new acting head of the Falcone family, I am offering a two-million-dollar bounty for any information leading to the recovery of Mr. Falcone's remains."
"And a five-million-dollar reward," Carmine added, his eyes narrowing into cold slits on the screen, "for the capture of the woman who kidnapped him."
A photograph flashed across the screen.
It was my employee badge photo from the Falcone estate.
Matilda Higgins. Wanted for questioning in connection with high treason and kidnapping.
"She is considered armed, unstable, and extremely dangerous," Carmine’s voice rang out through the bodega speakers.
I pulled my hood lower, paid for the canned soup, bandages, and burn ointments with cash, and slipped out the door into the rain.
My heart was beating like a war drum in my ears.
Carmine wasn't just hunting Gabriel; he was turning the entire city into an army of bounty hunters looking for my face.
I hurried down the alleyways, sticking to the shadows of the rusted fire escapes, until I slipped back inside the row house.
When I locked the door behind me, I found Gabriel standing in the kitchen.
He had pulled on a pair of my late grandfather's flannel pants and was holding a heavy cast-iron skillet like a weapon.
He was pale, his bare chest wrapped in tight gauze, but he was standing on his own two feet.
"You shouldn't be out of bed," I scolded, setting the grocery bags on the laminate counter.
"You were on the news," he said, ignoring my warning.
"I saw through the blinds. There are patrols cruising the main avenues."
"Carmine put a five-million-dollar bounty on my head," I said, leaning against the sink with a bitter laugh.
"I went from making sixteen dollars an hour cleaning his toilets to being the most expensive woman in Illinois."
A ghost of a smile touched Gabriel's lips, but his eyes remained deadly cold.
"Carmine is a fool," Gabriel said, walking toward me with slow, measured steps.
"He thinks he can crown himself with my crown before the blood is dry on the floor."
"He has the council," I reminded him. "He has the police in his pocket, and he has forty capos backing him."
"He has men who fear power," Gabriel corrected, stopping inches from where I stood.
"He does not have their loyalty."
"A hyena cannot rule lions simply because the king took a nap."
He reached out, his thumb gently wiping away a streak of rain from my cheek.
"Who else knows about this house, Matilda?"
"Nobody," I whispered, shivering at the warmth of his touch.
"My grandfather died ten years ago. My grandmother kept to herself."
"Then this is where we plan the resurrection," Gabriel said, his voice dropping into a dark, hypnotic rhythm.
May you like
"Carmine wanted a war."
"I'm going to give him a funeral."
