Chapter 244: "Wonderful Teamwork"

Jeremiah was the first to relax his shooting stance. His smile, remarkably, had survived the entire incident.

"Oh, wonderful teamwork!" he exclaimed, looking between his two companions with genuine delight. "Look how perfectly coordinated we are! We didn’t even need to discuss it, and somehow we all arrived at exactly the same decision!"

Jordan had no intention of acknowledging the claim, much less admitting that the three of them constituted anything resembling a team. Instead, he glanced at Caio with a faint smirk.

"Not too bad for an ancient man like you."

"Not too bad for a fledgling like you," Caio returned coldly, lowering his pistol once he was satisfied that the guard was no longer a threat.

Jeremiah pouted, looking positively wounded by their refusal to appreciate his attempt at building camaraderie. He’d been rather pleased with their spontaneous cooperation, but apparently neither man was interested in celebrating it with him.

Still, there were more important things to attend to. His attention shifted toward the opposite side of the arena, where he’d last seen his brothers.

The sight did not disappoint him.

Hezekiah and Zachariah were already making their escape. Their entourage had closed around them, shielding both men as they hurried along the rows of seats in a crouch.

’Oh, look at them.’

Jeremiah watched them with considerable amusement. His brothers had been perfectly willing to arrange a brutal assault on a young woman, yet the moment bullets began flying somewhere in the same building, they’d decided that discretion was the better part of valor.

’How terribly brave.’

The temptation to send a shot in their direction, if only to make their retreat a little more entertaining, was almost irresistible.

Jeremiah decided against it.

There were more immediate matters to address, and his brothers had already provided him with enough amusement for one evening.

He raised his gun again, this time pointing it toward the crowd below.

The effect was instantaneous.

Several spectators gasped. Those who’d begun to stand ducked back down, while the people nearest the stairs scrambled out of his line of fire.

"Well, now, I must confess," Jeremiah began conversationally as he descended the stairs toward the cage, "this is an extraordinarily effective method of controlling an audience. Perhaps I should consider introducing it at the next show at the Pit?"

Almost every visible head began shaking. No one seemed willing to risk saying anything aloud.

Jeremiah looked mildly disappointed by their lack of enthusiasm. Nevertheless, the method was undeniably efficient.

Wherever he walked, spectators hurried out of his way, leaving him an unobstructed path. By the time he reached the cage, there was hardly anyone standing between him and Cavallo.

"Well, now, my dear friend!"

Jeremiah’s smile brightened again.

"I believe you and I have a rather important conversation ahead of us!"

Without waiting for a response, he aimed his gun directly at the center of Cavallo’s forehead.

"But first..." His voice dropped dangerously. "Would you mind opening the cage? It seems the friendly little match we arranged has been over for quite some time."

Cavallo went rigid.

For one dreadful moment, he could do nothing but stare at the weapon inches from his face.

Under ordinary circumstances, he might have surrendered immediately. But he was standing inside his own establishment, surrounded by his own security personnel, with a considerable number of spectators watching. Some stubborn remnant of pride prevented him from yielding.

"M-Mister Castellano! This is outrageous!" he protested, struggling to make his voice sound commanding. "How dare you shoot my men in front of all these people? And now you have the audacity to threaten me as well?!"

He turned toward the guards still surrounding the cage.

"What are you all doing?! Aren’t you supposed to be protecting this club? Get your guns out! We have the numbers on our side!"

The security personnel seemed to recover from their shock at the same time. Several reached beneath their jackets, and within moments, pistols were being drawn and aimed directly at Jeremiah.

"Put your gun down, Castellano!"

"Don’t think you can do whatever the fuck you want just because of your name! This is our club!"

"Stay away from the Boss! Hands where we can see them!"

Jeremiah surveyed the weapons pointed at him with an expression of genuine regret. It was almost heartbreaking, really, how determined these people were to misunderstand their circumstances.

"Still don’t understand your position, do you, Mister Cavallo?"

He sighed and moved his gun a little closer to Cavallo’s forehead, making the man stiffen so violently that he nearly lost his balance.

"Well, since you’re so eager to compare numbers... perhaps we should play a little counting game."

With that, Jeremiah gave a casual wave of his free hand. Almost immediately, men who’d been crouching among the frightened spectators began rising to their feet.

"Drop your guns!"

"Surrender now!"

They were Jeremiah’s own people, stationed throughout the crowd long before the fight began. Each drew a concealed pistol and aimed it at Cavallo’s security.

"We outnumber you!"

Their appearance was followed by more movement farther back. Caio’s men, already making their way toward the cage, drew their weapons as well.

"Drop your weapons!"

"You’re surrounded!"

Within seconds, Cavallo’s guards had guns trained on them from several directions. The balance shifted so abruptly that several visibly lost their nerve.

"Goddammit!"

"What do we do now?"

"We’re fucking surrounded!"

Jeremiah surveyed the scene with satisfaction. He began counting the armed men cheerfully before noticing several familiar faces among them.

"Ah, let’s see! One, two, three... Oh, wonderful! We even have some friends I only made this evening! Leo, buddy! Do me a favor and aim at this old fart’s head instead. There’s no need to trouble these poor security fellows!"

Leo’s grip tightened almost imperceptibly around his pistol. He had spent enough time in Caio’s service to become accustomed to unreasonable requests, but being casually recruited into Jeremiah Castellano’s festivities was proving an entirely different sort of inconvenience.

Nevertheless, he redirected his weapon toward Cavallo.

"Yes, sir."

Cavallo flinched so violently that his shoulders nearly reached his ears.

There were already enough guns pointed in his direction to make him reconsider his earlier confidence. Seeing another trained on his head did nothing to improve matters.

He swallowed, desperately searching for a way to back down without appearing to surrender. Unfortunately, before he could think of anything—

BANG! BANG! BANG!

"AAAAARGH!"

Three shots exploded close enough to Cavallo’s ear that the sound seemed to strike him physically. His hearing dissolved into a shrill ringing, and he dropped to the floor with both hands clamped over his head.

"NO! NO, NO! PLEASE SPARE ME, MISTER CASTELLANO! SPARE ME!"

The spectators nearby recoiled at the gunfire, but those who’d been watching closely understood what had happened. Jeremiah had shifted his pistol just to the side of Cavallo’s head before firing into the distance.

That distinction, unfortunately, had done very little for Cavallo’s bladder. Warm liquid spread through the front of his trousers, dripping onto the floor beneath him, and he’d already started crying.

Jeremiah looked down at the man with an expression of tender concern.

"Now, now. Don’t cry, my friend."

He crouched slightly, speaking as though soothing someone who’d suffered an unfortunate fright.

"You were the one who wanted to challenge me, remember? I simply thought it might be helpful to demonstrate what happens when the bullets actually start flying."

Cavallo remained curled on the floor for several seconds, breathing hard through the ringing in his ears. Then, with dawning disbelief, he realized that his head was still attached to his shoulders.

More importantly, he realized the gun was still in Jeremiah’s hand.

Whatever money Cavallo had been promised for tonight’s arrangement suddenly seemed a very poor reason to die. He lifted his head and screamed at his security personnel.

"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?! OPEN THE DAMN CAGE! GET THAT DOOR OPEN AND ESCORT MISS LOMBARDI OUT!"

The guards nearest the entrance needed no further encouragement. They hurried to the cage door, fumbling briefly with the lock before managing to release it.

Inside, Aren watched the door open with a mixture of relief and mild concern.

She stepped out, her attention moving first to the wounded security guard still clutching his shoulder wounds, then to Cavallo, who remained on the floor in his soiled trousers.

Finally, she looked at Jeremiah.

"Um... I appreciate the intervention," she said, lowering her voice so the surrounding spectators wouldn’t overhear, "but I was actually in the middle of a rather productive negotiation. There really wasn’t any need to bring out your guns in public like this."

Jeremiah immediately climbed the steps to meet her at the cage entrance, his expression brightening as though she’d merely expressed concern over some minor inconvenience.

"Ah, my dear, our friend Cavallo was in desperate need of a valuable lesson. I simply thought a few gunshots might help him understand it."

His smile remained, although his voice grew quieter.

"As I’ve come to understand it... some people only learn the lessons that truly matter when death is close enough for them to feel it breathing down their necks."

Aren fell silent.

She pressed her lips together, uncertain what to say.

He was still smiling at her, as warmly and pleasantly as ever. It troubled her more than the gunshots themselves.

Jeremiah noticed the change in her expression, though he didn’t give her long to study him. Instead, he stepped closer and bowed slightly, extending one hand toward her.

"Come now, my queen," he said softly. "Allow me to escort you down the steps."

Aren placed her hand in his without hesitation. His fingers closed around hers, but rather than immediately guiding her away from the cage, he turned toward the spectators.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" he announced, his voice carrying across the arena. "I present to you the victor of tonight’s impossible fight! The woman who has accomplished what may very well be the most extraordinary feat in the history of blood sports in Borgata — perhaps even anywhere in the world!"

The spectators exchanged uncertain glances. Most were still crouching where they’d taken cover during the shooting, and the sight of Jeremiah standing above them with a pistol in one hand did little to encourage anyone to move.

Nevertheless, a few people began clapping.

Clap! Clap! Clap!

The applause was hesitant at first, but it gradually spread through the crowd as others joined in. After all, whatever they thought of the violence that had followed, they couldn’t deny what they’d witnessed inside the cage.

Jeremiah looked thoroughly pleased.

He waited a moment, enjoying the recognition being given to his fighter, before addressing the audience again.

"Now, as pleased as I am that my superstar’s remarkable talent has finally been demonstrated beyond any possible doubt, I do have one small request. I would be terribly disappointed if anyone gathered here decided to repeat a single word about the unfortunate little business with the guns tonight. We all understand one another, don’t we?"

Heads nodded throughout the arena.

Nobody seemed particularly interested in testing how Jeremiah Castellano would express his disappointment. Most simply wanted to go home, sleep, and pretend the evening had never happened.

"Wonderful!"

Satisfied, Jeremiah turned back toward Aren and finally began guiding her down the steps.

"Now, tell me, my dear," he asked as they walked through the frightened crowd, "which would you prefer for your post-fight dessert tonight, cheesecake or cannoli?"