Page 2 of Capo Baby, All Of Your Heart Will Do
Papà stops at the city's edge, the bad side near the docks, where the old run-down warehouses are used for illegal activities.
I wonder who’s the target.
“Follow me; I need you to have my six; remember everything I’ve taught you,” Papà says in a low tone.
We walk down the road, about a few hundred feet to the last warehouse.
It’s fucking dark; the moon is hiding behind the dark clouds that look will start to release a downpour.
We walk around the huge containers, wooden crates, and black SUV. Papà signals for me to stay back, and he creeps forward, stopping at the end of the huge container.
I pull my back, watching him get into position, looking at his target. Papà is using his sniper rifle, and I have my Glock out and ready.
The minutes tick away slowly; it’s getting colder, chilling me to my bones, the mist is dense. I can barely see my Papà a hundred feet away.
Then I hear the shots and the men yelling.
Fuck, how many did Papà take out?
What’s going on?
It’s most likely a fucking drug exchange; I can hear the motherfucker yelling when I walk towards my Papà.
“Son of bitch, Randy, we got the motherfucker! I bet he thought that he was going to take the money and the drugs, not,” the man yells, jeering.
“Let’s go, Pete, before the cops show up,” the man shouts.
I stop to aim, shooting at the motherfuckers, but it’s so damn dark, I can’t see a damn thing.
I son of a bitches must have run because I hear the vehicle's sound and the peeling of the tires.
I get to my Papà, falling to my knees next to him. I can see that he’s dead; the fuckers shot my Papà in the back of his head.
My stomach tosses, then I heave, hurling my dinner at the side of the container.
I feel fucking awful.
My Papà taught me better than this. I should be taking this as a man, like a D’Angelo, but it fucking hurts.
My Papà is gone.
Those motherfuckers killed him.
I’m going to look for them if it’s the last fucking thing that I do.
There’s only one problem; I only know the first name and their voices. So, it’s going to be fucking hard to find them.
Fuck!
They took the money and drugs, but I’m positive that Papà took out his target.
I push up; I walk towards the deed men. I look at the two motherfuckers on the floor bleeding out, their eyes wide open.
There is one SUV with the back door open. I hear the sirens in the distance. I don’t have much time left. I grab the rifle, slide the strap over my head. I slide my arms under his arms, dragging him to the end of the dock, shoving him into the water.
It fucking hurts, but Papà always warned about leaving evidence. The cops would be all over asking too many questions.
I don’t want Mamma and Nicola to go through that bullshit.
