Author's Note: So I guess I went AWOL again. _ So sorry. I met a Russian. He was cute, he was fun, he was sooo very very Russian, which was soooo very very hot. But things are over now, alas. On the plus side, I did learn a lot about the Russian culture and language. Too bad we're dealing with Italians.

It's actually very sad how long this has taken me, but hopefully I'm on a roll again. To be honest I finished this story at work today. But regardless, enjoy!

Chapter VII: Apex

Murphy wasn't sure how long they had been lying by the lake. He had long since phased out as he and Connor watched the cloud drift by. He was tired. His entire body hurt. And he desperately needed a cigarette and a vacation. But there were several problems keeping him from solving any of the above mentioned problems. Murphy rolled his head to the side to spy his twin, which wore a perplexed look upon his face.

"What?"

"We should probably look for that guy who was chasin' us, but I doubt he'll be a problem anymore. Ye think the fuckin' cops would have shown up by now too. Someone had to have seen two cars fly off the road leavin' a path of destruction behind 'em."

"Aye, we should probably leave then. They'll ask questions and I don't want to be fuckin' bothered."

Murphy rolled to side and hoisted himself up with a load groan. After a massive car wreck, resting on the rocks probably wasn't the best of ideas. They should really check in to a hotel with a Jacuzzi and a bar. They both began the trek back to the road. The damage their car had done to the wooded area was undeniable. They had managed to take out any living object that was unfortunate enough to be in the path, but it left a clear view of the white car that had been after them.

As they approached the car, the saw the bloodied fat man slumped over the steering wheel. Connor pried the door open and laid two fingers on the man's neck. He was dead. He couldn't honestly say that he felt bad about that. He grunted as he pulled the man back in hopes that he could identify his attacker, but no one came to mind. Behind him though, he heard Murphy muttered a curse.

"Murph, who is he?"

"He's one of those fat fucks from the bar before we left!"

"Ye go out by yerself one night and managed to piss someone off enough to track yer ass down and try to kill ye? What the hell did you do?"

"I didn't fuckin' doanything! They were trying to rob the place. I just stopped it from happenin'."

Connor just stared blankly in response. He obviously didn't believe him. Murphy's thumb immediately went to his mouth and he began to chew the skin around the nail. Connor could be most intimidating when he was silent.

"…I also kinda set him on fire and possibly blinded his friend…"

"Christ Murph! Don't you fuckin' think before you do anythin'? As if we didn't have enough trouble already!"

"I didn't fuckin' know that they would try to kill us!"

"What the hell did ye think would happen? Ye fuckin' blinded someone! Don't ye think that someone would fuckin' care about that?"

Murphy diverted his eyes from Connor's. He hadn't thought about the repercussions at the time. Why did everyone he meets seem to be in some kind of mob? They really had terrible luck sometimes. They say that bad luck comes in threes. First he managed to piss off yet another mob. Second the mob is trying to kill them now. And third they had managed to destroy their car. So their bad luck streak should finally be over. Or should it, he wondered. All their bad luck was connected back to a single event. He fleetingly wondered if the bad events had to be independent of each other. If that was true, they were in for one hell of a week. Murphy raised his eyes back to Connor and noticed him gingerly holding his head. He had forgotten about his twin's head wound. He had forgotten about his injuries as well. They needed to get somewhere safe quickly.

"Let's fuckin' take care of this and get the hell out of here."

Connor popped the trunk and wandered back to inspect the contents. They were lucky that the Italian had a small arsenal back there. They could at least restock a few of their items. He grabbed a duffle bag and began shoveling guns into it. Meanwhile Murphy was inspecting the front of the car. He dug out the man's license. Fredo Adamo. The name meant nothing to him. He shoved the ID back into the wallet and placed it on the seat. Looking around he grabbed the man's gun, phone and cigars before ducking out of the car. He shoved the contents into Connor's duffle, who promptly headed towards the road. Murphy started to follow, but stopped as he remembered the ritual that he couldn't leave without. He ducked back into the car looking for the two shiny objects. Who the fuck doesn't have pennies in their car? He sighed and grabbed the two closest thing he could. A quarter and a dime. He carefully placed each coin over the man's eyes and stared at the man a moment longer. The two disproportionate silver objects didn't have the same affect as the pennies. Murphy bowed his head and said a quick parting prayer before scurrying off to find his other half.

The walked several yards before the flashing blue and red lights forced them to take another direction. To avoid the police, they were forced to wander the forest by the woods for about an hour in hopes that they would be far enough away to avoid suspicion. They thanked their lucky stars when the finally saw a motel, but Connor shook his head and pulled Murphy further down the road. He finally stopped in front of a Hilton hotel. Murphy gave his brother a funny look. They weren't the type that need luxury, but after the day that they had, Murphy wasn't about to protest his brother's choice.

"We look like shit. We can't just walk in there and get a room."

"Aye, but I took some supplies from the Italian."

Connor strolled to the side of the building and opened the dead man's duffle bag. Inside Murphy saw several weapons and a small stack of money. It wasn't even a third of what they had lost. Connor shrugged off his dirtied wet t-shirt and pulled a striped polo on. It was three sizes too big for him, but it was free of blood. He pulled a Yankee's baseball cap to complete his sexy attire. Murphy would have laughed at the site if he wasn't so sure he had bruised his ribs.

"Stay here."

Murphy leaned against the brick wall and pulled out the cigar he had swiped earlier. He was lucky enough to find a pack of matches in the bag. He slowly inhaled the sweet smoke of the Cuban and let it linger in his lungs. His eyes slipped shut as he exhaled. He heard the door to the emergency exit open, but he paid no attention to it. He'd just get the evil eye from the guests here. He knew that they would think that he didn't belong here. He also knew that he looked like he had just robbed a convenience store. It would just be an awkward moment that he wanted to avoid. He listened for several seconds waiting for the door to close, but whomever had opened it was hell bent on leaving. Curiosity getting the best of him, Murphy slide his eyes to the door only to spy Connor motioning him over.

They took the stairway up to their room in hopes to avoid the majority of the guests. Eight flights later and three hallways later, they had finally made it to the room. Before the door could fully close, they had both collapsed onto the bed, their eyes already shut.

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When Connor finally cracked his eyes open, he was taken aback by how blurry the room surrounding him was. He couldn't' seem to focus on any one object. He was in pain. He had an intense migraine and a night of awkward sleeping left his back and arms tense and knotted. He rolled onto his back and tried to focus on the ceiling. He couldn't tell if the ceiling had a popcorn effect to it or he was seeing black dots. Throwing a quick glance at Murphy didn't seem to help anything. The room continued to spin once his head had stopped moving. He let out an involuntary moan and closed his eyes, hoping to gain relief once again.

It seemed that they were in worse shape than he had thought.

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Fire shot through Desi soul. He threw his phone against the wall, barely missing his wife, Caroline's head. She flinched as she felt the shattered plastic fall upon her.

"Where is my consigliere?"

"He is dealing with the Don Cicchio on the south side."

"Bring him to me."

"I do not work for you, Fredo. I am not one of your dogs here solely to do you bidding. If you want to speak to him, then you go call him."

Desi stalked up to Caroline, his eyes blackened from hate. "Caroline, I do love you, but if you ever speak to me in such a manner again, I will…"

"You'll what? What will you do, Desi? Have me killed? You've taken so much of my life away that I would welcome the escape!"

Desi's hand shot out from beside him and latched on to her neck. He threw her against the wall with such force that the picture hangings shook. "Killing you would be too good for you, but if you cared for either of your children, you will do what I tell you."

"You can't touch them! Who would take over your business when you dead?"

"Caroline, my love, we are both still young and you will bare me many more children."

Desi released his grip on her throat, causing her to sink to the ground with grief. "Call my consigliere and tell him to meet me in the east lounge. There are things we need to talk about before I go kill the Irishmen myself."

"I hope they kill you just like they've killed Fredo!"

"For your sake, my love, I do too."

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Desi stood by the window in the east lounge. He held an untouched glass of cognac. His unfocused eyes stared out the window. He was numb. All the trials of his business had begun to weigh heavily upon him. His territory was being threatened, he could trust no one, not even his own wife, one of his brothers was dead and the other was blinded and depressed. It was only a matter of time before he took his own life.

Desi knew that he was at the apex of this life. He had to get out after killing the Irishmen. The greed was getting out of hand for both him and his followers. He needed to figure out a way for him to die peacefully out on an island somewhere, instead of being shot by someone he thought he could trust. Unfortunately he had no one to pass the business on to. He had to wait until his oldest son to mature enough to take over, like he had done with his father. That would at least be another ten or fifteen years. He couldn't help the sigh that escaped his lips.

"Desi, this is a bad time to leave."

"I cannot let them live after what they have done to my family."

"Leaving would be a sign of weakness to Don Cicchio. He'll take that as your blessing to move in."

"Don Cicchio is smarter than that. He knows that I will give him no blessing."

"Be that as it may, it would be the best time to take over. Your feud with the two Irishmen can wait until afterwards."

"I'm tired. Maybe this will be a suicide mission and if it is, my consigliere, you will take over. I trust you and give you my authority on all matters while I'm away."

Desi brushed by his consigliere, who held a look of shock on his face. He had aged dramatically while working with his family and Desi regretted the stress that it caused him, but he had nothing left to live for and he was more than willing to sacrifice his life to avenge his brothers.