White Night

Chapter 15

Celso's gun was behind him as they edged toward the entrance to the graffiti-covered building. The old wooden door could've been hiding a meth lab, gang hideout, or crack house, but the Don's son was the deadlier threat at that moment.

At any instant he could feel the bullet burst through his back.

"This is it. This is the place," Nikolai said, the skin on the nape of his neck crawling as his hand edged closer to the gun his father left him.

Celso nodded and drew level with him. At least the olive-skinned bastard wasn't behind him anymore.

His father had told him about the White Nights of St. Petersburg, Beliye Nochi. Nights where the sun didn't set and you couldn't tell if it was day or night.

The Romanos were the same. In the next hour he could be celebrated for taking out a competitor's meth lab or lying dead from Celso's snub nose .38.

Five years ago he would've given his life for them. Now he was trying to get through the next three days without a scratch, or a bullet from "Uncle Mauro," Celso, or any of a dozen rival gangs.

"How do you wanna do this?" he asked Celso.

Celso smiled and rushed forward, bursting through the door with his shoulder.

Stupid damn idiot...

There was no choice. He had to follow the Don's son or he might as well blow his own brains out if the boss found out he hadn't backed his heir. Drawing his gun, he followed Celso through the doorway.

Caustic chemicals instantly clawed at the inside of his nose, searing his throat and clouding his eyes. Unable to see Celso or anything else, he shielded himself with his arm, snatching brief glances at the objects in front of him: a table, glass jars, plastic containers, and a blurred shape moving to his right.

"Celso?" he shouted, aiming his gun at the shape.

The place stank of hospital chemicals, cat piss, and rotten eggs. No question it was a meth lab.

"Celso!" he shouted again. The shape disappeared through the doorway to the second room.

Shit. Any second a bullet could come from some asshole Colombian or Celso. An image of Katya at her last birthday flashed through Nikolai's mind, smiling widely with her first wobbly tooth and surrounded by pink balloons.

Something crashed to the ground a few feet ahead of him and he swung his gun at it, but he couldn't see more than a blur with his eyes streaming.

"Celso!" he shouted again.

A shape moved on the floor to his left this time; he aimed his gun at it. The shape stopped moving. Stumbling toward it, he booted it with his foot. Solid, heavy, hard, it wasn't a person—some kind of furniture, but somehow it had moved on its own. Impossible.

Thick hands grabbed the tops of both his arms and pinned them to his sides, yanking him backward. He twisted loose and started to raise his gun over his shoulder—no way he was going out like this, tortured then dumped by some Colombian bastard.

A hand clamped on the top of his gun, twisting it and trapping his fingers with it. They would snap any second, but not before he got a shot off at the mutt. Nikolai squeezed the trigger and the shot deafened him, sending him reeling faster than his legs could move. The floor rushed up to meet him, slamming into his head, his ears still ringing. He twisted as he fell, aiming at the shape that had been behind him, but it slithered back through the open door. Still blinded by the lab's fumes, he wiped the water from his eyes on the sleeve of his jacket. All he could hear besides the ringing in his ears were fragments of sound, like someone hitting mute every other second.

"Nik....wha...hell?"

"Celso?" he shouted.

"Yeah...you....should...your....face...ha...ha ha."

He was laughing at him. The sack of shit was actually laughing at him.

Celso's thick hands pulled him up by his shoulders and out the door. Nikolai choked on the fresh air, his lungs still stinging from the acrid stench of the lab. Celso pushed him back against a wall for support, or to slug him. He didn't give a crap either way. He only wanted to jam his father's gun into the asshole's ribs and empty his cylinder.

Celso flashed a bright smile at him "You looked worried in there, Nikki. Thought you were going to piss yourself."

Before Nikolai could stop his muscles, he swung the Don's son around and pinned him against the wall, slamming him hard into the brick.

"You smug jackass, what the hell were you playing at?"

"Take it easy, Nikki, just testing your reflexes."

Celso's relaxation was insulting, his body jammed against a wall by Nikolai with his gun hot in his hand and furious as hell. But Celso still knew he was in no danger.

Nikolai released the Don's son, who responded with a jovial slap to the side of his arm, like a friend trying to boost another friend's spirits. But Celso's dark eyes threatened above the stupid grin on his face.

For four years Celso'd been pulling shit like this, screwing with his head, taking dumb-ass chances with both their lives. Celso wanted Nikolai gone, but still needed the Don's permission to end him. The Don had treated Nikolai as an extended member of the family after his own father was killed, paying the rent on his mom's tiny apartment, giving him jobs to do to earn extra money. Celso wanted to be like his father, the "capo di tutti capos," and was jealous of Nikolai from the start.

He'd lost interest in the battle with Celso the day Katya was born. The Don's respect had no meaning anymore. Proving himself wasn't worth the constant risk of being taken from his daughter.

Celso brushed the dust off his thick overcoat. The story would go back to the Don, he could hear it now: "Nikki is losing it. He thought I was a Colombian drug mule, can't tell the difference between Latino and Italian!" Celso would laugh into his antipasto as he told the story back at the family restaurant, drinking Morettis with the other capos.

"Come on, Nikki, we'll torch the place and check out the other lab." Celso pulled him from his thoughts.

There was one final addition to White Night, a tiny adjustment to be made. Nikolai checked his phone.

"Celso, just got word, a lead on another lab."

Soon they would find it together and White Night would permanently melt the smile off Celso's face.