Evan Arden 05 Irrevocable

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Authors: Shay Savage
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Harding’s colors,” Beni says.  “Did they find anything else?”
    He and Becca take a few steps away and go through the pictures as they are sent from the couriers.  I keep a close eye on Rinaldo.
    “Those fuckers have ended my patience,” he says with a snarl.  He’s trembling a bit and turns to spit on the ground.  I tense but don’t step away.
    “This isn’t the first time?”
    “With guns, yes.  They did the same with the Russians’ heroin shipment two months ago.  There are all kinds of territory wars going on with the gangs, but trying to move into my areas?  I can’t stand for that, Evan.  I can’t.”
    Rinaldo’s face is tinged with red, and I can see the vein near his temple throbbing.  He turns to me, and his eyes speak volumes.
    “I got it, sir.”
    He nods once, and I head over to Beni just as Cody is coming around the corner in a van.  He parks and jumps out, running to Beni’s side.
    “Definitely Marcello?” I ask.
    Cody nods.
    “The truck was emptied, but this was left behind.”
    Cody hands me one of those plastic bracelets people seem to like so much.  This one is orange and black—the colors of Marcello’s gang.  It’s ripped up, likely caught on something in the truck.
    “They all wear them,” Beni tells me.
    “Are they this stupid?” I ask.  “I’ve taken out members of the south gangs before.”
    “You haven’t been around,” Beni says with a sneer.  “Word got out.  They got bold.  I don’t think they realize you’re back.”
    “They’re going to know now.”  I flag Jonathan over.
    “I need everything you can get on Marcello’s crowd,” I tell him.  “Now.”
    “On it.”  Jonathan jogs over to his truck and grabs his laptop.
    “I know where Marcello lives,” Paulie says.  He moves to stand over me with his hand on the butt of his gun.  “I can take care of him.”
    “Where he lives is the last place he’ll be.”  I look into Paulie’s face, debate filling it with a slug from his own gun, but resist.  “You are staying with Rinaldo.  I’m dealing with this lot.”
    “I’m in charge of security here,” Paulie says as he puffs out his chest.
    “Yeah,” I agree with a nod, “and you failed.”
    Paulie’s fingers tighten around his weapon, but he doesn’t draw it out.  I rather wish he would so I’d have an excuse to put a hole in his head.  No such luck.
    “I will take care of it,” he repeats slowly.
    “No, you fucking won’t.”  I step up closer to him.  I have to tilt my head to look into his face, but his size does not intimidate me.  “You are going to do exactly as you are told and stay right by Rinaldo’s side like an obedient little puppy.  Capisce?”
    His hands are trembling as we stare at each other.  He bares his teeth slightly and seems as if he’s about to say something else, but we’re interrupted by Jonathan’s voice.
    “Got something!  Come take a look!”
    Paulie breaks eye contact first and stares at the ground as I shove past him to take a look at the computer.
    Jonathan’s brought up various images and names, including security camera footage from their own hangouts and meeting places.  He has a list of the places where they gather and when.  It takes only minutes to know where I can find them later tonight.
    They’ve crossed a line—physically and metaphorically.
    They’re going to pay.
    *****
    Sometimes you just have to go with the direct approach.
    Marcello’s gang is known for its hangouts.  They’ve put down roots in every establishment from Marquette Park all the way south to Ninety-fifth Street.  They have worked hard to implant themselves on the streets of Auburn Grisham, and no one dares cross them in their own territory.
    Fuck that.
    I open up the Camaro and fly off the Dan Ryan Expressway to Seventy-first Street, nearly going airborne as I race over a slight hill.  I slow down enough to make the turn and then barrel through two red lights.  Focused on my

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