chapter twenty one

word count: 590

vic crouched behind the break wall on the rivers edge and listened as stan hit the gas in his navigator, like it owed him money... he pulled out his cell and hit speed dial...

"warren.. don't say anything just listen.. your brothers dead, stan white,, the guy i had him tailing killed him.. he took off in my truck with this hooker that is on the fringe of this whole thing... i need your help... i gotta find him before your brothers in blue.. my ass is on the line here... i need both of 'em, ren... both of 'em"

vic went on to give sargent warren "ren" vincent malleo,, third east division,, desk sargent,, and all around cop for the taking,, his license plate number,, and the direction he was headed in when he sped off... there was nothing for him to do here.. he had to get the hell out of here.. now...

sgt warren "ren" malleo had wanted to be a cop ever since he was a teen growing up on the lower east side.. his father being a made man in the yacovella family had let him see both sides of the action.. by the time he was old enough to make a career choice for himself,, most of his fathers compagni's were either dead or in jail,, but the cops he knew they had taken care of all these years,, seemed to be healthy,, happy,, and prospering nicely... he decided cop was definitely the way to go....

twenty two years into the game,, all he wanted was out.. he was so close.. to retirement,, to a full pension,, to easy street,, and a little place in ft lauderdale driving around in a golf cart...fuck... and now this...

ruben dead... junky or no he was blood.. you did not kill a malleo and just drive off .. fuck up that he was,, he was his little brother... blood for blood.. there was no other way... he excused himself from the dinner table,, and went to "his study" ... there surrounded by all the trappings of a bad cops job well done,, he dialed...

"ricco... ricco,, ren.. ricco,, my brother,, ruben,, yeah the fuck up.. hes dead.. hit... just now... over by the river... i know who did it..."

he filled ricco salvatore, his best friend and protector, in on everything he knew.. ricco gave his word.. it was done... ren hung up..

he flipped on the wide screen,, surfed.. paced.. did a shot or four of the old granddad he had in his bottom desk drawer.. he took his police issue 38 out of the lock box.. he loaded it.. he filled the pockets of his fishing vest with all the ammo he could carry.. he grabbed his tackle box,, his "ugly stick",, and informed his wife he had decided to drop a couple of lines before the sun set.. a quick peck on her too plump cheek,, and he was out the door....

"you fucked up, white.. you fucked up.. no one hits a malleo and lives.. and you my friend,, will not be the first....."

with that he slipped in behind the wheel of his GMC denali,, clicked her into reverse and eased out the drive and into the street... he slowed as the kids playing four square in the street moved out of his way.. he signaled a right turn,, followed the road patiently to the entrance ramp on the expressway... he merged,, and hit the outer lane. he was doing 110 before he passed the first mile marker....