Ambush (R-18)

Warning! This chapter might be a little brutal, if it's not up to your taste, you can skimmed through it.

---

In the derelict warehouse near the docks, Lorenzo, Max, and Philip were lying in wait, concealed inside.

"Get your weapons ready, and be cautious. We don't know if Kaplan has a gun on him," Lorenzo said to the group.

Max nodded, recalling the harrowing chase with Bugsy and the shooting of their friend Dominick. The memory was still vivid.

Patrick and Philip shared Max's apprehension.

After a while, the warehouse door creaked open, and the trio ducked behind some crates, using the gaps to keep watch.

A man in his 30s entered with his henchmen, carrying burlap sacks. The man, with a cigarette dangling from his lips, ordered, "Just drop it on the floor. We'll wait for Kaplan and his crew here."

The man barked an order at one of his underlings, "Fetch me a chair."

The goon scurried to comply, setting up the chair and gesturing for the boss to take a seat. The man sat down, exuding an air of authority as he puffed on his cigarette.

"We'll wait here," he said, tapping ashes onto the floor.

He then pointed to another minion, "And you! Keep watch outside. If you see anything fishy, sound the alarm, and we'll make our move."

"Yes, boss!" the thug replied, hurrying to fulfill his orders.

As the boss took another drag from his cigarette, it went out. He motioned to another lackey, who quickly lit a new one and placed it between his lips. The boss continued smoking, grumbling, "Damn Kaplan. I hate being stuck in this dump."

Unbeknownst to the sugar dealer and his goons, Lorenzo, Max, and Philip were watching and waiting.

Lorenzo whispered, "Max, get the Molotovs ready. We'll strike at the right moment."

Max nodded, along with Patrick, both of them armed with unlit Molotov cocktails.

They'd been planning an ambush, and now all they needed was for Kaplan's gang to appear and for both sides to let their guard down.

---

Meanwhile, Kaplan scowled as he walked alongside Randall and Norman, "Where the hell is Albert?!"

Randall and Norman shrugged, "I've been lookin' all over the tenement and outside, boss. Ain't seen hide nor hair of him."

"Damn it," Kaplan cursed.

Norman reasoned, "We can't keep lookin' for him forever, boss. He's a big boy now, he can handle himself. We gotta meet with Richie or he'll get antsy."

Kaplan reluctantly agreed, "Yeah, you're right. Albert's gotta fend for himself. Richie's our priority."

With that, they continued their trek towards the abandoned warehouse by the docks.

---

In the abandoned warehouse, Richie was visibly irritated, "Damn it, Kaplan! Why does he always keep me waiting?"

One of his goons piped up, "Boss, should we call off the deal?"

Richie lashed out, kicking the underling in the rear, "Are you nuts? If we do that, our trip's for nothing!"

"Sorry, boss!"

Just then, the warehouse door creaked open, revealing Kaplan and his crew.

Richie's mood changed instantly as he stood to greet them, "Kaplin', it's been too long!" He hugged Kaplan like an old friend, feigning camaraderie.

Kaplin smiled, "It's good to see you too, Mr. Richie Booker."

Richie chuckled, "Aw, just call me Richie, will ya?"

Kaplan smiled, "Thanks, Richie. Appreciate it."

Kaplan's eyes fell on the burlap sacks, trying not to show his eagerness. This deal could score him a fortune in sugar rations.

"After you, gents," Richie gestured, ushering them to sit at the makeshift table.

As they took their seats, Richie ordered, "Boys, get these gents some smokes!"

His goons obliged, lighting cigarettes for Kaplan, Randall, and Norman.

Kaplan went straight to business, "Let's cut the small talk, Richie. What's the deal with the sugar?"

Richie feigned reluctance, "Well, Kaplin', times are tough. I'm askin' for a pretty penny for this haul, 500 dollars."

Kaplan balked, "You gotta be kiddin' me, Richie! That's highway robbery!"

Richie shrugged, "Supply and demand, my friend. But for you, I'll shave off a bit." He named a slightly lower price.

Richie countered with a smile, "How about $450?"

Kaplin' hesitated, "That's still steep, Richie. I can't sell it for much more than that, especially with only nine sacks here. How much is in each one?"

Richie replied, "About $50 in each."

Kaplan countered, "That's still a lot, Richie. I can't sell it for more than that. How about $25 a sack?"

Richie scowled, "You gotta be kidding me, Kaplin'! From $50 to $25? You think I'm made of money?"

Kaplan's temper flared, "Hey, I'm just tryin' to make a livin' here too!"

The two sides were now in a heated standoff, neither willing to budge on the price.

As the dealers haggled, Lorenzo smirked.

This was their chance. But as he watched with Max and Philip, Kaplan drew his gun, aiming it at Richie.

"What the hell, Kaplin'?" Richie yelped, his men on high alert.

Richie's goons reached for their weapons, but Kaplan's warning stopped them in their tracks. "Don't even think about it, or I'll blow your boss's brains out!"

Richie's fear was palpable as he ordered, "Stand down, boys! I ain't ready to meet my maker yet!"

The three men Richie brought were trapped, unable to signal the another two of Richie's guards outside without alarming Kaplan's men.

Though Randall and Norman were unarmed with a gun, they held knives at the ready, close enough to strike Richie's men at any moment.

"We can work this out, Kaplin'! I've been a good supplier!" Richie pleaded.

Kaplan frowned, "Twice, Richie! Twice is all we've done business, and I only kept up with your prices 'cause sugar's hard to come by! But this time, you're askin' for too much!"

Richie backpedaled, "Alright, alright! We can talk it out, no need for violence…"

Kaplan holstered his gun, and the tension in the warehouse eased slightly.

As the two sides seemed to be reaching an understanding, Lorenzo signaled to Max, "Light it up."

Max lit the Molotov, and even he, Patrick, and Philip were stunned as Lorenzo hurled it at Kaplan.

Just as Kaplan and Richie were about to negotiate, the Molotov sailed through the air, landing on Kaplan's lap. Screams filled the warehouse as Kaplan was engulfed in flames.

"Aaah! Fire, fire! Water!" Kaplan screamed in agony as the Molotov engulfed him. His face and torso were a twisted, charred mess.

"Ahh! My eyes! Help!" Kaplan reached for Randall and Norman, but they backed away in terror.

Kaplan stumbled around, his clothes and skin on fire, flesh melting off his bones. He tripped over a crate, writhing in agony as he screamed for help.

"Jesus!" Richie gasped, looking in the direction the Molotov came from.

Randall and Norman, though horrified, turned to glare at Richie with fury in their eyes. Norman's grip tightened on Richie's collar as he growled, "You did this, didn't you?"

"Damn you!" Randall spat out, his fists clenched in rage.

Richie's eyes widened in terror, shaking his head frantically. His gaze darted back and forth between the enraged faces of his friends and Kaplan, who was still trapped in the inferno, screaming in agony. "I swear, I don't know!" he stuttered, his voice barely audible over the roaring flames.

It was clear by the horror etched into his features and the darkening stain spreading down his pants that he was telling the truth.

Norman, after a moment of hesitation, released his grip on Richie's collar, realizing he was innocent based on his petrified expression. Together, the three of them whirled around to face the direction the Molotov Cocktail had come from.

The acrid smell of gasoline and smoke hung heavy in the air as four silhouettes emerged from the shadows, each of them brandishing another Molotov Cocktail.

"You four bastards!" Randall seethed through gritted teeth. In unison, they charged towards the assailants, their fists raised and ready to exact their vengeance.

Lorenzo, spotting the two men charging towards them, barked an order to Max and the others, "Fire!"

In unison, they lit the Molotov Cocktails and hurled them at Randall and Norman.

Unlike Kaplan, who never saw it coming, the two friends were more prepared this time.

They managed to dodge the flaming projectiles… all but one. The Molotov Cocktail that Lorenzo had thrown landed squarely on Randall's chest, engulfing him in a ball of flames.

"Aaargh! Aaargh!" Randall screamed as the searing heat enveloped him.

Norman's heart pounded in his chest, his blood running cold as he watched his friend writhe in agony.

Norman froze in his tracks, his eyes locked on the assailants. "Who the hell are you people?" he demanded, his voice shaking with rage and fear.

Lorenzo let out a chilling chuckle before turning to Max. "Max, deal with this guy. I've got business with our 'supplier.'"

Max, usually the leader of the group, nodded meekly at Lorenzo's order. It was clear that even he was intimidated by Lorenzo's ruthlessness.

Patrick and Philip shared his terror, their faces ashen. They couldn't believe they'd once dared to defy and even argue with Lorenzo over Deborah. Now, they knew better than to cross him again.

Lorenzo, oblivious to their fears, sauntered up to Richie, who cowered in his puddle of urine. His men tensed, ready to intervene, but Lorenzo held up a placating hand. "Easy, fellas. I'm not like Kaplan, brandishing guns and making threats," he said, mimicking the motion of drawing a gun from his pocket. "But don't test me, alright?"

Richie's men froze in their tracks, their eyes locked on the hand Lorenzo had tucked into his pocket. They didn't know it was an empty bluff, not after what they'd just witnessed. Kaplan's charred corpse lay motionless a few feet away, a grim reminder of the price of defiance.

Richie gulped audibly, his voice shaking as he ordered, "D-don't move, boys."

Lorenzo's smile widened, revealing a gold tooth as he stepped closer to the cowering man. "Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Richie," he purred, extending a hand stained with soot and blood. "Lorenzo Lupo, at your service."