Chapter 13: “How’s the nose?”

Joey D, short for Dinarro, carried his name like a badge of honor. It wasn’t just a nickname—it was a brand. Ever since fifth grade, when someone first called him Joey D, it stuck, and he made it stick. Being a natural bully helped, and by high school, Joey D was a name people whispered with a mix of fear and disdain. That’s how he liked it. Now, as a third-generation enforcer in the Giordano crime family, Joey was proud to carry on the family tradition. Breaking bones, smashing faces, and leaving behind chaos wasn’t just a job; it was in his blood.

Joey sat in a chair by the window of an empty apartment across from Cornice Place, the blinds split slightly as he watched the courtyard below. A cigarette smoldered between his fingers as his eyes tracked the cops moving in and out of the building. He’d seen a lot of shit in his life, but even he could smell the body from here. “Ripe,” he muttered under his breath.

Behind him, Nick Caprio shuffled into the room, clutching a bloodied towel to his face. Nick, thirty-six but looking a good two decades older, was Joey’s protégé—or at least that’s what Joey told himself. Nick was built like a refrigerator and had the personality to match: cold, unyielding, and slow. He’d been a powerlifting champ back in his twenties, but time and bad habits had softened his edges.

“How’s the nose?” Joey asked, not bothering to turn around.

Nick grunted as he pressed the towel harder. “It fucking hurts. What’d you think?”

Joey smirked. “Hurts, huh? Maybe Eccles will kiss it better when we find him.”

Nick didn’t laugh. He shuffled to the door, ensuring it was closed tight. The lock was busted from when they’d kicked it in earlier, and he leaned against it to keep it secure. “You think the cops are here for us?” Nick asked, his voice still nasally from the hit he took.

Joey shook his head, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “Nah. You smelled that body, right? That’s what this is about. Keep your eyes open, though. If they sniff us out, we’re in deep shit.”

“Eccles is dead when I get my hands on him,” Nick growled.

“Yeah, yeah. Calm your tits. We’ll handle him soon enough.” Joey’s attention snapped back to the courtyard. Movement caught his eye. Two figures emerged—one unmistakably Jeff Eccles. The other, a sharp-dressed man, screamed cop. Joey leaned closer, the blinds rattling slightly.

“There’s the fucker right there,” Joey muttered. “Looks like he’s with a cop.”

Nick pushed off the door, tension radiating off his broad shoulders. “They coming this way?”

“Nah. Just standing there, looking like they own the place.” Joey pulled his burner phone and dialed Pete. The line clicked almost instantly.

“Yeah?” Pete’s gravelly voice barked.

“It’s us. We found him.”

“You got him?” Pete asked, irritation thick in his tone.

“Not yet. We’re laying low. Place is crawling with cops. Smells like they’re here for a stiff.”

There was a pause. “Don’t screw this up, Joey.”

Joey hung up and turned to Nick. “Alright. Keep on that door. I’m gonna take a leak.”

Joey made his way to the front of the building, scanning for lingering cops. His eyes landed on Eccles’ El Camino, parked like a battle-scarred dinosaur. A smug grin spread across Joey’s face. “Alright, Eccles. It’s time to dance.”

Satisfied, he headed back to the apartment, already imagining the look on Eccles’ face when they finally cornered him. He opened the door, stepping inside.

“Okay, we’re clear—”

The words stuck in his throat.

Nick was on the floor, his massive frame sprawled awkwardly. Rosa straddled his chest, her stiletto heel driving into his face with relentless force. Blood sprayed in arcs, chunks of flesh and bone flying with every strike. The once-powerful enforcer’s face was unrecognizable—a pulpy mess of gore.

Joey froze, his brain struggling to comprehend the scene. “What the fuck?”

Rosa didn’t respond. Her movements were jerky, almost mechanical, as if she were being controlled by invisible strings. Her face was slack, devoid of emotion, and her eyes…her eyes were empty.

Joey lunged, his fist connecting with her jaw. The force should’ve knocked her out cold, but she barely flinched. She turned her head slowly, almost curiously, as if acknowledging him.

“Fuck me,” he said as he raised his massive boot and brought it down with a sickening smash. The woman went down this time, but Joey didn’t stop, his hard sole boob destroying her once attractive face. Joey didn’t

“Fucking bitch.”

Satisfied she was dead, he removed his foot from her crushed face.

Turning back to his partner, his face was no longer there.

Joey kneels to check Nick for any signs of life. “Jesus Christ, how’d you let that little broad do this to you? You better be dead or you ain’t ever gonna live this shit down.” Checking his neck, Nick’s pulse was weak. “Fuck, this really-

Joey suddenly feels a sharp sensation and silence in his right ear. Stunned, he reaches up and feels a shoe, its stiletto heel buried deep in his ear. Unable to comprehend what is going on, he turns to see the short Latino standing there without a face and another stiletto shoe coming down on his face

Again.

And again.

And again.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***