by Juniper Hart
“He’s not your boy, Harley. You don’t have a boy. You don’t have anybody!” James shot back. Harley punched him squarely in the jaw, relishing as the agent reeled back in shock at the unexpected blow.
“That’s because you screwed up my life! You screwed up my boxing career, and you ruined my family! You fuck up everything you touch!” Harley hit him again, and James began to cry. The sound of his sobs stopped Harley from throwing a third punch to his face, and he let his fist drop to his side.
He wanted to pummel the sniveling prick into oblivion, but what good would that do? Nothing he could do or say would make this leopard change his spots.
“Call off the debt, you piece of shit. And stay the fuck away from me and Jordan. I will murder you with my bare hands if you come anywhere near him again.”
“I-I don’t know if I can do that!” James blubbered, tears streaming down his face.
“You’ll do it, or Carlucci will be the least of your problems,” Harley swore, meaning every word he spoke. “Do it or I’ll finish what I should have done years ago.”
Without waiting for James to respond, he slammed out of the condo, the door reverberating against the walls upon his departure.
Jordan had walked around the block six times. He was on the seventh lap when a police car pulled up beside him.
“Are you lost?” the officer asked from the passenger side window. Jordan paled and blinked, startled by the interruption to his thoughts.
Maybe I’ll get arrested, he thought hopefully. Maybe I’ll have to spend the night in jail, and I won’t have to deal with this again. He knew it was wishful thinking. He wasn’t going to get off so easily.
“No, sir,” he responded, glancing innocently at the Asian officer. He tried to smile disarmingly, but neither he nor his partner returned his beam.
“Do you want to explain to us why you’ve been pacing this neighborhood for two hours?” the cop questioned suspiciously.
Jordan stared, trying to come up with a story. He smiled sheepishly as inspiration struck.
“I had a fight with my girlfriend. I’m just trying to cool down,” he said earnestly. The cop raised an eyebrow, examining Jordan skeptically, and the fighter offered him another winning grin. The officer seemed satisfied that Jordan was not a cat burglar and returned his smile.
“You’re better than me, buddy. I’d be on my sixth shot of tequila by now if it were a fight with my wife.” Jordan fought to maintain his smile as he nodded eagerly. “Your girl must be really nice.”
“She has her moments,” Jordan countered, thinking about the agony that Samantha had put him through over the past year.
“Anyway, move along,” the police officer continued, waving at him through the window. “You’re making the neighbors nervous. I’ve had three calls about you already. You kind of stick out like a sore thumb around here. Maybe you should hit the bar.”
Jordan nodded and thanked him, watching the car drive off. The notion of going for a drink was almost too much to bear, even though he had no interest in drinking. He just wanted to get out of the situation he’d found himself in once and for all. He paused in front of the blue shuttered house and took a deep breath.
I can’t go in there. I can’t do this. Just turn around and go home. Call James and tell him why you can’t do this. No! Fuck James. I don’t owe him any explanations. I will find a way to contact Carlucci directly. For all I know, James isn’t negotiating on my behalf at all.
He stood, one leg ready to run, one leg poised to walk up the steps. The temptation to leave was just as great as the one to stay. There was no car in the driveway. Maybe no one was home.
Go home, Jordy. Go home. He shifted his weight from one foot to another, willing his brain to decide. He started toward the house, swallowing the now familiar bile in his throat, except this time, he was sure he would vomit prior to committing the act and not wait until after.
He was on the porch now, looking for signs of life in the house. He saw movement in the front window. Jordan pressed himself against the side of the house, feeling his heart racing dangerously.
He peered inside and saw the man’s shape. Dizziness overwhelmed him. It was him.
A rush of distress washed over Jordan, and before he could stop himself, he pulled open the screen door, ready to smash open the front entrance with his foot when a set of headlights shone upon his frame. Whirling, he watched in disbelief as a white Lexus pulled into the driveway and a petite woman jumped out of the driver’s seat, her face almost translucent.
“Jordan!” Samantha hissed. “What the hell are you doing here?”
All of the motivation which had overwhelmed him seconds before dissolved into a puddle of trembling fear when Samantha scurried up the steps. Before he could utter a word of explanation, another car pulled up to the curb and began honking its horn. Harley rolled down the window, his face flushed with fury.
“Get in!” he yelled. “Right now!”
Without a word to Samantha, Jordan raced toward Harley’s ancient Impala and hopped in the passenger’s seat. Harley tore away from the curb as the front door opened. Through his peripheral vision, Jordan saw Marco’s confused face appear on the porch, and his heart hammered wildly.
The car sped away, and Jordan inhaled with a trembling breath, turning his attention back to his trainer. Harley’s knuckles were raw and white against the steering wheel. The tension in the car could have easily been cut with a butter knife. Neither one wanted to speak, but Harley finally asked the question he needed to know.
“Were you going to do it?”
Jordan didn’t answer, even though he knew what the response was. I had the opportunity to take out Marco once and for all. Was I going to take it?
“Well? Were you?” Harley hissed, his words like knives.
“It’s not what you think,” Jordan answered quietly. “It was a job.”
“I know what it was. That wasn’t what I asked.”
Jordan blinked and looked at his mentor. “Yeah.”
Harley was silent for a long moment before he spoke again, his tone tense. “You probably would have killed him.”
Jordan didn’t respond, but in his mind, he silently agreed with Harley’s sentiments. The rest of the drive was made in deep, ominous quiet.
“Did I just see your boyfriend outside?” Marco stepped away from the threshold and allowed his wife to enter.
Samantha walked into the house, her heart hammering. She didn’t understand what she had just witnessed nor how to process it. What had Jordan been doing there? Why would he be there?
Suddenly, she realized just how far she’d allowed things to get. She needed to tell Jordan the entire truth before something awful happened. He’s a wolf. He could easily kill Marco, and that’s not what you want. You’re pushing him too far. His emotions are too raw now. He told you he can’t live without you after what happened this year.
“Sam!” Marco said sharply when she didn’t answer.
“What? Who?” Samantha asked innocently, putting her purse down on the table.
“Are you purposely playing dumb with me? Was it that guy, Jordan? I told you to keep him away, Samantha. Are you out of your mind? You’re going to get us arrested.” The ire in his tone was palpable.
Samantha furrowed her brow. “No, I don’t think that was him, Marco. Oh, I guess it kind of looked like him.”
Marco stared at her intently. “Who was it then?”
“No idea. I thought you were talking to him. He jumped in a car when I got here. I thought maybe he was selling something.” Marco looked unconvinced, and he examined Samantha’s face carefully.
“It was him, wasn’t it, Sam?”
“No… at least, I don’t think it was. I can’t imagine why he would be here.”
“No?” Marco drawled. “You can’t?”
She drew back, her shoulders tense.
“What is with you?” she snapped. “You have a girlfriend, remember? What do you care if I have a
lover?”
Marco bared his teeth, his eyes flashing in fury.
“I care because there is more at stake here than just what’s in your pants!” he howled. “I can’t get sent back to Italy!”
“You won’t get sent back!” Samantha breathed, her heart thudding wildly. Besides, what if he did? It wasn’t a dictatorship.
It occurred to her that there was much more to Marco than he was letting on.
“What is going on?” she whispered. “What are you so afraid of?”
“You selfish little girl,” he hissed. “You’ve brought a world of problems down on us because you refused to listen.” His face contorted in rage, and Samantha was terrified and furious in unison.
I’m a selfish little girl? This man has been using me for his own security for years, and he has the balls to call me selfish? Screw him. I’m done with this charade. I don’t care if we both do time for this.
Her anger won out. Samantha smirked and shrugged.
“I’m filing for a divorce. Today. I don’t give a shit if you get sent back to Italy on the red-eye tonight,” she barked. But she should have known better. Her whole life, she’d dealt with men who used their fists to make points. She’d become too complacent with Marco, not realizing that some patterns took a lifetime to break.
She didn’t see it coming until it was too late. Marco’s face contorted into a horrifying mask of fury, and the world went black
“We were like brothers,” Harley began, handing Jordan a steaming cup of coffee as they settled in the loft above Sky Train, looking down into the empty space below. “We grew up in the same apartment building. Our parents were middle class, hardworking people. We didn’t have everything we wanted, but we didn’t need anything, either.”
He paused to take a sip of his drink, and Jordan hung on his every word, relishing the notion that he was finally learning the story behind the animus between Harley and James.
Although I feel like I can guess most of it now, Jordan thought grimly, regret flooding his core.
“James always wanted to become something big. I was happy boxing and being with my sweetheart, but James had huge dreams, way bigger than any kid in his position should. He pushed me, really. If it wasn’t for him, I probably wouldn’t have gotten as far as I did with my boxing.”
Yeah, I can see that. James knows how to push, for sure. Jordan pushed the bitter thoughts out of his head and let the man continue, uninterrupted.
“Carlucci was a fixture in our neighborhood. He ran everything and everyone. Our parents warned us to stay away, and some of us weren’t drawn in by his promises of money, but James… Well, like I said, he wanted big things, and Carlucci indulged all of his fantasies. The truth was, Carlucci really wanted me. He tried to lure me in the usual way, with cash and toys and candy. My family was from the right part of Italy, and we are supposed to stick together, but I only cared about boxing. James was functional to Carlucci, but he was an outsider, something Carlucci never let him forget. James took it very personally, even though he would never admit it to anyone. You could just see it in his face.”
Harley took another sip of his own coffee and looked around the dark gym. Jordan sat perfectly still, his back a straight line of tension. He wasn’t so sure he wanted to hear this story anymore. Did any of it matter now? Still, he didn’t stop Harley from his tale, even if the words twisted Jordan’s stomach into a knot.
“I got big. Really big. I had a title fight coming. I had sponsors and promotors knocking at my door. I was seconds away from becoming the next Ali. James was a huge help. He promoted me with that mouth of his, recruiting people from all over the city to come watch me fight, even in the shittiest little places.”
For a moment, Harley’s eyes glazed over, as if he could hear the roar of the crowd in his ears. Jordan thought tears misted the gentle yet fierce eyes of his trainer.
“What happened?” he prompted when Harley did not continue. Harley put the mug down and rose to his feet. He started to pace, like sitting was too much now that the story was building.
“James happened,” he said quietly. “One night, at three a.m., someone came pounding on my door. It was Carlucci’s second lieutenant, Angelo. He told me James was in deep shit, and I needed to go with him right away. Of course, I went with Angelo and found James in a warehouse, hanging from a meat hook by his neck. He still has the scar.”
Jordan’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. Even to a seasoned wolf, that level of violence was atrocious.
Carlucci is a psychopath, he thought, though he didn’t know why that surprised him. Any man that would take a money debt in blood had to be unraveled.
“Our boy James was skimming from Carlucci. Hundreds of thousands of dollars. That’s not a really good idea, but from what I hear, you already know something about that, don’t you, Jordy?” Harley gave him a wry smile, but the words stung all the same.
How many mistakes is Harley going to forgive me? Jordan wondered.
“Anyway, Carlucci would have already killed James under normal circumstances, but James, our opportunistic, self-serving friend, had a better idea. If Carlucci would forgive him and allow him to pay off his debt, he could recruit me to Carlucci’s family.”
Jordan swallowed deeply, already understanding where the story was going.
“Long story short, I became Carlucci’s boy overnight. My career was done. I couldn’t be a mob wife and a title champ. I ran drugs for a decade, killed people, pimped out some women, the usual. It wasn’t until several years later that I found out that James hadn’t skimmed any money, and that the entire production had been staged to draw me into the family. I told Carlucci I was done. By now, he had had a younger, more ambitious model of me at his side, so he let me go, but he still calls when he needs something. He has lots of leverage on me now. James is forever at his beck and call. I think James always saw you as his ticket with Carlucci. I thought he was trying to make amends with me when he offered to be your agent, but I see now that I was just being naïve. I’m sorry I put you in harm’s way, Jordan. I hope you know that I have always only wanted to protect you.”
He’s sorry? I’m the giant fuck-up here! Impulsively, Jordan jumped up and hugged his trainer, swallowing the lump of emotion in his throat.
“You have always protected me, especially from myself. I love you, Harley. You don’t have any reason to be sorry for anything. I am sorry I let you down.”
The men held each other for a moment longer and then released one another.
“In the future,” Harley said, “I want you to know that you can always come to me. There is nothing you can do that I won’t understand.”
Jordan laughed ruefully. “I guess not, huh? You have literally seen it all.”
Harley shrugged nonchalantly. “There are benefits to having been around, son. You’ll learn them in time.”
You have no idea, Jordan thought, shaking his head. Automatically, his mind shifted back to Samantha. We have an eternal life to learn, I guess.
“Come on, I’ll drive you home. Unless you want to sleep here tonight.” Jordan shook his head.
“I think I should sleep in my own bed tonight. I need to think of what to tell Samantha tomorrow. She’s going to think I went all stalker on her or something.”
“You’re not going to tell her that her husband has mob connections?” Harley asked half seriously.
“I don’t think I should be the one to tell her that,” Jordan said slowly, even though he wanted desperately to do just that. He had considered it, but he reasoned that she might regard it as an act of petty jealousy and accuse him of making up stories to break up their marriage. “I’ll sleep on it,” Jordan concluded.
When he finally arrived back at his apartment, he was greeted with a sight that would change everything. Collapsed on the floor in front of his door was Samantha, swollen, bruised, bloody, and half-conscious.
15
Landon rolled his eyes.
“Really?” he snapped. �
�You waited until the nth hour to bring this to us?”
The Council grumbled in agreement, except for Lane, who peered intently at Samantha.
“You’re really a fox?” she breathed in disbelief. Samantha looked away uncomfortably. She would have done anything not to have gone to the Council of Seven that day, but Jordan had finally convinced her it was the best thing for everyone.
“I’m officially in over my head,” he told her after she’d finally explained the truth about her marriage. “The mob, ICE, Marco. We’re in over our heads, darling, and if we want to get out of this, we need to go to Landon Burke.”
Yet as they stood before them, Samantha wasn’t so sure. She could feel the anger palpitating toward her.
“Why didn’t you just tell Jordan from the start?” Lane wanted to know. “Why the secrecy?”
“I was worried that ICE would get wind of what we were doing,” Samantha explained, trying to keep the exasperation from her voice. “And Marco asked me not to.” The words sounded ridiculous now, but to her relief, no one pressed her on the matter.
“I took care of Marco,” Alec spoke, and all eyes turned to the dragon in surprise.
“What does that mean?” Samantha heard herself ask before she could stop herself. Do I really want to know what that means?
“Turns out that Marco didn’t owe the mob money,” Alec said. “He was running from the Italians, which is why he was so protective of his green card here. He didn’t think that his past would catch up with him in the New World.”
“What a mess,” Jordan muttered, squeezing her hand gently. “What about ICE?”
“I dealt with them,” Lane said quietly. “They won’t be bothering Samantha anymore. As far as they’re concerned, the marriage never took place with Marco. He’s been deported back to Italy, and he won’t be making any more contact with you, Samantha. If he does, you need to let us know at once.”
