“I swear to you that once you’re my wife, no one will ever lay a finger on you, not unless they want to die a horrid, painful death.”
She places her finger over my lips. “I love you, Raphael. You’re the only one who can hurt me. This bruise is nothing compared to the pain I feel when I imagine my life without you.”
“Don’t ever imagine such things, Mila. No matter what happens, I’m yours.”
For a moment, I think the machines are going off again, but it’s my phone ringing that wakes me.
Digging it out of my pocket, I see Frankie’s name flashing across the screen. Accepting the call, I press it to my ear, but all I can hear is silence before an ear-splitting boom blasts over the line.
“It’s done.”
I hang up and put my phone away. Tortured in sleep of memories of Mila, I reach for the bottle of whiskey I brought in with me earlier and swig it straight from the bottle.
Chapter Eleven
Jamila
I can’t remember the last time I had a dream. I’m sure I dream, but I guess I don’t remember it the next day? Whatever the case, I dreamt of Raphael last night, of him holding me while whispering promises in my ear, and now I can’t shake it off. I don’t allow myself to think of the past. It does no good to dwell on it, as it only reminds me of the life I could have had. I struggle to remember what woke me, but Trey knocking at the door has me pulling the sheets up and under my arms.
“Come in!” I call out.
The door sweeps over the thick carpet and he steps into the room, stopping at the end of my bed. Dropping his gaze to the sheets, I cock my brow.
“What is it?”
Something must’ve happened for him to be awake at such an early hour, let alone knocking at my door.
“St. Jacobs Church on the East Side of the city is in ruins. From what I’m hearing, there are rumours it was a bomb.”
The East Side is Marocchi territory. Slipping out from under the sheets, I grab my robe from the end of the bed and turn the lamp on. The light isn’t as intrusive, as I was already awake.
“Who?” I bark, wanting to know who caused this destruction.
It may be on Raphael’s side of the city, but a church is a church, and it’s sinking to a new level of low when you destroy one of the Lord’s houses.
“I’ve heard nothing. Did you order this without my knowing?” he has the nerve to ask me.
Narrowing my eyes, I see the moment he backs down, and I don’t bother dignifying his question with a response.
“I want answers, Trey, and I want them now.”
He leaves me to shower and dress. I don’t care that the sun hasn’t risen yet, and I don’t expect to hear from Trey until he has answers.
Sitting on my balcony, I watch as the thick black smoke drifts toward the sky in the mid-morning light. Perhaps it was the explosion that woke me? If it was a bomb, surely we would have felt the ripples across the city.
Trey steps out with a grave look on his face. I brace myself for anything.
He looks away from me before he opens his mouth. “It was a bomb. The fire chief confirmed it an hour ago. I’ve been around to all our men, and no one knows anything. Word is spreading that the Camarco’s are full of shit.”
“How quick we are to be blamed. I won’t criticise them for their quick assumptions, seeing as we deserve it. Our reputations are buried too deep in the city’s memory. But, if we didn’t do this, who did?”
“There’s more, and this directly involves us.”
“Spit it out, then. I’m growing tired of your stumbling.”
Pulling out the chair beside mine, he leans in far too close for my liking.
“When I checked in with Michael, he wasn’t answering. His car was parked in his drive. I could hear his phone ringing from inside, so I kicked in his door. Mila, I found him dead on his couch, naked, with a bullet in his head.”
No! I just spoke with Michael before midnight. He was at home, awaiting my next order.
“If you kicked in his door, then he must’ve let his killer in.”
Because he certainly wouldn’t open his door to a stranger in the dead of night.
“It looks that way. I looked around while I waited for the police to show up, and there was nothing out of place.”
I can’t believe I’m going to ask my next question, but I have to cover all our bases.
“Is it possible he killed himself?”
He doesn’t hesitate with his response. “No, he wasn’t like that. And anyway, there wasn’t a gun at the scene. Someone killed him and locked up on their way out.”
No gun at the scene. I left him without a chance to defend himself. I called for my men to lay down their weapons, leaving them all vulnerable.
“This will be Raphael. He would’ve gone for Michael, thinking we blew up his church.”
It’s not hard to figure out when our hatred for one another is so clear. The people aren’t stupid. When they hear of Michael’s death, they’ll think the Camarco’s blew up the church in retaliation.
“What do you want me to do, Mila? We need to strike now before the entire city wakes.”
Finishing my coffee, I look out over the city, cursing Raphael Marocchi.
The gates at the end of the drive begin to open, and Trey is on his feet, rushing to stand in front of me.
Pushing to my feet, I place my coffee cup on the table and stand at his side. “Don’t you think that if they were our enemy, Mary would let them through the gate?
We both recognise the car, and I make my way downstairs to the front door. By the time it’s open, Alexander is climbing out, his suit dishevelled, and his hair flopping over his eyes.
“Looks like someone’s had a long night,” I mutter to Trey before stepping toward Alexander.
“Trey has just informed me of Michael’s death. I want to know what you’re going to do about it?” I demand, my voice catching at the end.
“What I’m going to do about it? I came here looking for answers from you, Jamila.”
He walks by me, inviting himself into my home, and doesn’t stop until he’s pouring himself a scotch in my office.
“You need to explain, Alex. I don’t understand what you could want from me?”
Raising his brows, he looks at me like he’s seeing right through me. “St Jacob’s church was blown sky high the same night your man, Michael Romano, is shot dead. Was the bomb payback?” he spits out before throwing back his drink.
“I assure you, this wasn’t my call. I did not order a bombing in a sacred place. As far as Michael’s death is concerned, I just found out not ten minutes ago.” Having to explain myself is a new concept, and I don’t like it.
“Jamila, you vowed you’d bring peace. This is not peace!” he roars, throwing his glass against my wall.
Trey jerks forward, but I grab his arm to stop him. I’m positive I can sway the mayor my way, I just need him to calm down a little. It’s time to amp up this charade.
“Alex, darling, whoever bombed the church, it wasn’t because I ordered it, nor was it any of my men. Trey didn’t even find Michael’s body until early this morning. How could it be retaliation on my part?”
This calms him, and he falls back on the armchair by the fireplace. Leaning forward, he rests his head in his hands.
I nod to Trey, asking for privacy. I know he won’t be far if I need him.
Crossing the room, I kneel down and pull Alexander’s hands away from his face. When he looks up at me, I see the same fatigue in him I always feel myself.
“We’re to be married next year. If you don’t believe me when I say I didn’t do this, then we already have problems. I’ve never lied to you, nor do I plan on ever doing so. I’m not a fool, Alex. If I didn’t want peace for Vita, I wouldn’t have proposed marriage and have my men surrender their weapons.”
His shoulders sag as he rests his forehead against mine. It’s an intimate act to me, and one I will only allow because I need him to believe
me.
“I’m sorry. It’s been a long night, and the chief of police is on my back to get this handled fast. A fucking bomb in Vita, Jamila. This can’t go unpunished.”
“And it won’t. I have every faith in you, Alex. But you also need to investigate my friend’s murder, because he didn’t deserve to die for nothing.”
He didn’t deserve to die at all.
Alex’s hand cups my cheek, but I have no desire to lean into his touch. His thumb sweeps over my cheekbone, leaving a trail of revulsion along my skin.
“He won’t, I give you my word. And for the record, I believe you didn’t have anything to do with the bombing.”
Thank the fucking Lord.
“Very well.” I rise to my feet and hold out my hand to him. “I’m going to be there when you speak with Raphael.”
“I’ll make the call.”
The drive to the mayor’s mansion is quiet until Alex ventures, “It’ll be much easier once we’re married and you live with me. No more back and forth.”
It’s enough for me to gag on my own vomit.
“That’s one way to look at it,” I force myself to say.
Raphael’s car is already parked in the drive when we arrive, and Alex feels the need to take my hand in his as we walk inside.
“Mayor Salvatore, please explain why you’ve summoned me here so early when I’ve had the night from hell?”
Raphael turns from staring into the fireplace and freezes for the briefest moment. If I had blinked, I would’ve missed it. Quickly getting over his surprise, he focuses on Alexander.
I tug my hand from his and settle down on the small velvet couch.
“You’re here because I want to hear you say you remember Jamila and her men taking a vow of peace.”
Raphael’s eyes pinch as they bore into Alexander. “I’m not suffering from amnesia, Mayor. I remember.”
“Then why would you go after and kill Michael Romano?”
Again, his reaction is of shock, only for a split second, before returning to stone.
“I had nothing to do with his death.”
“And yet he’s dead, and a church on what you claim as your side of the city is a heap of smouldering ash.”
“I’ve already told you, I had nothing to do with his death. Why don’t we talk about a fucking bombing in my church? I don’t see you questioning your fiancée,” he spits out.
“Oh, he’s questioned me, but I had nothing to hide.”
And for once, it’s the truth. Raphael’s neck nearly snaps, he looks at me so fast.
“You didn’t blow up my church, and I didn’t have Michael Romano killed, so I guess it’s settled,” he seethes.
The doorbell rings, and moments later, Alexander’s butler announces the chief of police is waiting for him in the foyer.
“I swear to the Lord, if either of you kill each other while I’m out of the room, I’ll bring hell down on both your families.”
Rolling my eyes behind his back on his way out, I rise from the chair and walk over to the window.
“No matter what we’ve been through, you should’ve known I’d never attack a church to get to you. Killing Michael is something I’m not going to let slide. Be warned, Raphael. By the end of the day, you will feel what I’m feeling, and I won’t hide behind a bomb.”
Taking slow strides around the furniture, his frame towers over me, but I don’t cower before him.
“You’re always vowing to kill me, yet I’m standing right here, still breathing.”
“Oh, I will kill you, but not today. Tell me, does Cristian still visit the whore on Bartlet Street around midnight?”
Fire burns in his eyes and his nostrils flare. I know his cousin visits the whore, and so does he.
“I can get to anyone around you at any time, Raphael. The same goes for you.”
“Then why haven’t you?”
I’m saved from having to answer when Alexander walks back into the room with the chief of police on his heels. Raphael moves away and braces his shoulders as the chief locks eyes with him.
“I’m glad you’re both here, it’ll save me time. Neither of you will admit to being involved, and I’m tired of fighting against a wall of silence. So I’m here to tell you that you will pay for the damage caused.”
Confusion sets in, and I step close to Alexander.
“If I had anything to do with the church bombing, I wouldn’t be here, Chief. You saw my men lay down their arms. Michael was interviewing for a job at the mayor’s office in the newly developed peace department. Someone clearly took advantage of his change of lifestyle and murdered him, and you’re telling me you’re not going to do your fucking job and investigate?”
He blanches, but recovers quickly. “The Camarco’s and Marocchi’s have been going tit for tat for so long, this doesn’t need investigating. You obviously put on a show for everyone and had us believing you were going to change. More fool us.”
The one time I’m telling the truth and no one is fucking listening.
“Looks like I’m free to go,” Raphael snorts, heading for the door.
“We’re not done, Raphael,” Alexander calls after him, but he’s too late. Raphael is gone.
Moving closer to the chief, I say, “I had nothing to do with the bombing, and the fallout from you not looking into this will be on your head.”
“Is that a threat, Ms. Camarco?”
“It’s me telling you to do your damn job.”
Brushing past him, I walk out and sigh in relief when I see Trey leaning against our car. I’m glad he followed us over.
Opting for the front seat, Trey climbs in behind the wheel and drives away.
“The chief of police isn’t going to do a thing to find out who killed Michael. I want you looking into it as soon as you drop me off at the church.”
“He said that?”
“Yes. He won’t listen. He believes the bombing was our doing, and he’s not lifting a finger to investigate.”
“Shit. None of this makes sense.”
He’s damn right it doesn’t. He pulls up outside the church where the doors are wide open.
“I don’t want to see you until you find out who killed Michael, and I want every soldier in this church in the next fifteen minutes.” Climbing out of the car, I make my way inside where
Father Antonio is collecting the bibles from the pews.
“Make the call. Offer whatever price you must to have my men armed by sunset.”
Walking to the front pew, I take a seat, making the sign of Christ over my chest. I send up a prayer, seeking strength to make the decisions that must be made.
Father Antonio returns as my men begin to filter into the church.
Once I hear the doors close, I know everyone is here and I stand, turning to face the men who have been loyal to me and my name their whole lives.
“As I’m sure you’ve heard by now, Michael was killed last night. Before we start to plan our revenge, there are some things you need to know. My engagement to the mayor is fake, a ploy to hold him off from coming after us as he threatened to do. My plea for peace at dinner was also a façade, and one that has cost Michael his life, but one that will be rectified by the end of this day. “From this moment on, all pretence of peace is over. Any Marocchi soldier you cross, you take him out. Weapons will be replaced, but I know you all to be inventive when you need to be. This city wants peace. But the thing is, it’s not possible with two families vying for the throne. We will be the family who takes that throne once and for all.”
Cheers erupt, making my heart swell with pride.
“What about the engagement?” someone calls out.
“Again, it’s over. As far as I’m concerned, Alexander Salvatore is fair game, and if he gets in our way, I will kill him myself.”
More cheers fill the church as I walk down the aisle, nodding and smiling at my men. Men who follow me. No longer will I entertain the notion of keeping men happy to save my ass, even if it is pretend.<
br />
My father had the right idea. People need to fear you, or they’ll walk all over you.
“Be warned. Once the first Marocchi soldier falls, the police and the mayor won’t hesitate to end us. It’s going to be a bloodbath out there until this war is won.”
A guy in the back pew stands, and I give the nod for him to speak.
“Are you saying we have no leash now? That there’s nothing and no one stopping us from ending the Marocchi’s?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Hushed but excited whispers bounce between the men, and the strength I was praying for earlier washes over me.
Raphael doesn’t think I’m strong enough, but I’m about to show him how wrong he is.
Chapter Twelve
Raphael
“Maybe she had Michael killed herself to make us look bad?” Cristian offers.
“Yeah, she’s been making moves, getting engaged to the mayor being one,” Frankie adds, with Carlo and Leo seeming to agree.
“No, this wasn’t her. She was too close to him.”
“Best guy, then?” Cristian muses.
Gunshots echo outside in the distance. I glance over to the large window. I can’t see shit in the city, but I can hear what’s going on.
“It’s carnage out there. Jamila must’ve changed tactics again because there’s been fighting between our sides all night,” Leo tells me, and I raise a single brow.
On rare occasions, like now, my brother surprises me. He’s more interested in partying and women, never taking an interest in family politics.
“Out there, were you? Fighting with the men under our protection?” I grunt, knowing full well he wasn’t.
“Hardly,” he snorts. “Tatiana told me.”
How nice, sharing pillow talk about violence and death.
“Regardless, we have to act now, Raphe,” Cristian near enough growls, his patience wearing thin.
Leaning back in my seat, I tap the table as I think. “Now that Michael is gone, she only has Trey and Father Antonio at her side. I want them both dead by morning. Call the Ghost.”
A Dance of War Page 9
