Secrets and Lies: A Forbidden Mafia Romance

by Norinne, Rebecca

  The second I’d pulled that dusty old lockbox out from under my floorboards and rifled through the contents inside, I’d chosen my path.

  Dictated my future.

  Signed Jayce’s death warrant.

  Taking a deep swallow of the amber liquid, I mustered my resolve. After a brief moment of hesitation, I typed in my security code, bringing the ancient device back to life.

  When Arabella and I had first started dating, I’d bought us each a phone linked to an account that couldn’t be traced back to me. In case it ever fell into the wrong hands, I’d populated hers with the names and phone numbers of random women I’d pulled from the phone book, hoping Arabella’s father would never know that “Juliet” was his daughter’s secret lover and the son of his fiercest rival.

  The last time I’d dialed her number, it’d been hours before she’d picked up. The likelihood of Arabella doing so now was practically non-existent. Hell, who was to say she even had her phone anymore? And yet I’d kept mine, hadn’t I? Something told me despite how things had ended between us, Arabella wouldn’t have severed that final tie between us. I didn’t know how I knew this, but my certainty ran bone deep.

  A small glimmer of hope took root and, my fingers shaking, I reached out to the source of my greatest pain.

  Juliet: If you get this message, call this number immediately: (312) 555-5610.

  And then I waited.

  When a phone trilled loudly in the silent room a few hours later, I jumped, sloshing the little whiskey that remained in my glass over the rim. My heart in my throat, I picked up the burner only to discover it wasn’t ringing. Across the room, my iPhone buzzed and on the Formica countertop, the caller on the other end of the line demanding that I pick up.

  Rubbing the groggy sleep from my eyes, I threw my legs over the side of the bed. The movement caused the room to spin, and my head pounded, a stark reminder of the bottle of Jameson I’d finished off. Placing my palms on my knees, I pushed my way to my feet and to where my phone lay. Just as I picked it up, it went silent again, but not before I saw who was calling.

  With a sigh, I set it screen side down and braced my hands against the counter. Staring at myself in the cracked mirror, I took a few deep breaths and willed my uneven heartbeat into a steady thrum in my veins. When I’d gained some measure of control, I turned on the sink and splashed water on my face. Cupping my hands together under the faucet, I drank down as much water as I could. It’d been a long time since I’d had a hangover, much less one from day drinking, and I didn’t intend to get one now.

  Before I could finish drying my hands on the scratchy, threadbare towel next to the sink, my phone rang again. This time, I didn’t have to look to know who it was. I’d disregarded Jayce’s email demanding an update, and now he’d taken to calling me for news. You ignored Jayce at your own peril.

  On the screen, a face so similar to mine that most couldn’t tell us apart stared back.

  With a loud exhale, I swiped my finger across the glass and brought it to my ear. But before I could greet him, my brother launched into a tirade about what a useless piece of shit I was and how if he wanted anything done right, he had to do it himself.

  I knew he liked to think that was the case, but I’d done things he could never have stomached, and I was positive that had our positions been reversed, the family would be in a much different state than it was today. I might not have the business acumen he did, but he didn’t have my stomach for violence, nor the constitution to mete it out.

  Still, I let him expend his energy ranting because there was no use in trying to stop him. If I didn’t take his bullshit, he’d just unleash it on one of his other employees, and I didn’t want that on my conscience.

  “Do you feel better now?”

  “No fuck face!” he shouted into the receiver. “I do not feel better. I won’t feel better until you tell me you’ve taken care of that goddamn slut.”

  I clenched my jaw and bit down my retort.

  Having been there the day I’d first kissed Arabella, I’d been worried Jayce would lord it over my head as leverage, but as far as I knew, he’d never figured out who the mystery girl was. At least, he’d never said anything that made me believe he’d known. Once, when he’d caught me sneaking in at four o’clock in the morning, he’d eyed me for a second and then asked if I’d ever hooked up again with “that slut from the mall.” When I’d told him I hadn’t gotten her name, he’d dropped it and never mentioned her again.

  If he didn’t call all women sluts, I might have been suspicious of his choice of words now.

  “I told you it’ll take some time. Do you want this done fast, or do you want it done right?”

  “I want it done now!”

  I swore I could hear his spittle rattling against his mobile. When he got like this, I guessed he was either high as a kite or coming down from a major bender. Either way, he wasn’t careful with what he said and that pissed me off. Jayce had always been an asshole, but since he started snorting coke, his temper and his lack of regard for the law had reached epic proportions. It was a miracle he hadn’t already been arrested. Or killed.

  “Calm down,” I said, not sure I wanted him to. Maybe, I thought, if I provoke him, the drugs in his system will do my job for me.

  This conversation was a good reminder why he needed to be put down like the rabid dog he was. He was no longer in control, and he could no longer be controlled.

  “I told you, I’m working on a plan that puts us in the free and clear. This can’t get tied back to us. Do you want to spend the rest of your life rotting in a frozen jail cell?”

  “Fuck you,” came his childish response. It was what he always said when he didn’t have anything smart to say in return.

  “Look,” I barked, my irritation leaking out. “I have to go. I’m waiting on a call that I can’t miss.”

  “One of your fuck buddies?”

  I sighed, and said, “No, not one of my fuck buddies.”

  I didn’t know why I even bothered anymore. It wasn’t like Jayce paid much attention to what I said if it wasn’t something he wanted to hear.

  “You know Careen?” he suddenly asked, switching topics rapid enough to give me a minor case of whiplash.

  Did I know Careen? Yeah, I did. And I also knew I wanted nothing to do with her. That girl was a walking nightmare.

  Without waiting for my reply, Jayce plowed forward, his words coming fast and erratic.

  Yeah, definitely high.

  “So, Careen has this friend. I can’t remember her name. Jolene maybe.” Losing his train of thought, I listened as he muttered under his breath, “Careen. Jolene. Careen. Jolene.” Then, turning his focus back to his story as quickly as he’d abandoned it, he said, “It doesn’t matter. What does matter is she’s got a body that won’t quit and she has certain … desires, shall we say … that require a special kind of man to satisfy.”

  God, I hated when our conversations veered into this territory. Suffice it to say, I never wanted to know what Jayce did behind closed doors. I’d heard the stories, and it was some fucked up Joffrey Baratheon shit. Come to think of it, that was a pretty apt analogy for who Jayce was. Like the bastard king, he too was an over-indulged coward with a cruel streak a mile long.

  When I didn’t take the bait, Jayce started hollering at me again. “I’m talking to you fuck face! When I speak, you answer, do you hear me? When I’m telling you about a Grade A piece of ass, it’s your job to listen. Capisce?”

  I didn’t bother reminding him we weren’t Italian. It would have only set off another rant I didn’t want to endure. “You were saying?” I asked instead.

  Pacified for the moment, he said, “I was saying that Jolene, or whatever the fuck that slut’s name is, likes to get pounded by two guys at once.”

  Shit. You didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to know where this was going.

  “Let me guess; she has a hankering for brothers?”

  “Not just brothers, asshole. S
he can find brothers to bang her anywhere. Twins. She wants to fuck you and me at the same time. You can have her cunt, but I’m tearing that bitch a new asshole.”

  He said this like it was a foregone conclusion. As if double penetration was something we did all the goddamn time.

  Okay, fine. We’d fucked a girl together once, but that was a very long time ago and we’d both been very, very high. Technically speaking, I’d fucked her while she sucked him off, but it wasn’t worth splitting hairs over. The reality was, we’d been inside the same girl at the same time, and for weeks afterward, Jayce had talked of little else. For him, the experience had been some glorious, transcendent, mind fuck, but I’d just found the whole thing unsettling. I never wanted to repeat the experience, and I’d told him so. Many, many times.

  “No thank you,” I answered dryly before adding, “As much as I love pussy, I told you before that was a one-time deal. We were just kids.”

  “We haven’t been kids since we were babies, and we both know it.”

  That much I agreed with. At least something my twin said wasn’t complete and utter bullshit.

  “Okay, fine. We were young and stupid. Is that better?”

  “What’s your problem is, Xander? You not man enough?”

  I didn’t have to prove myself to Jayce. At least, not about this. He might rule my life in every other way, but what I did with my cock and who I stuck it in was my own damn business, and there was no way in hell I was getting anywhere near him with it.

  “I have to go,” I sighed.

  “Ten days, Xander. And if you don’t deliver, we’re doing things my way. And you won’t like my way.”

  No, I didn’t doubt that.

  Then again, I’d probably be dead so what I liked or didn’t wouldn’t really matter.

  Chapter Four

  These violent delights have violent ends

  And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,

  Which, as they kiss, consume. The sweetest honey

  Is loathsome in his own deliciousness

  And in the taste confounds the appetite.

  William Shakespeare’s Romeo & Juliet

  I camped out in that hotel room for two whole days waiting for Arabella to call. When I finally accepted she wasn’t going to, I packed up what little I’d brought and left. Lost in my thoughts, I took to the highway and flipped on the radio. I let the inane chatter of the station’s DJs wash over me until an hour later, sick of the noise, I flipped it off and let my mind wander back to happier times … back to before I’d lost my brother to his demons … before Arabella had ripped my heart in two and shoved it down my fucking throat.

  Everyone thought I was made of ice and steel, incapable of feeling, but that wasn’t true at all. The problem was I felt too damn much and so I’d learned to hide my emotions, push them down deep where they’d never see the light of day. Where I couldn’t be hurt ever again. Where the blackness of my soul would suffocate the boy I’d been, the man I wished I could be if only things had been different. I’d once been a bright and happy kid, full of promise and hope for the future. But that boy was long gone and in its place existed a hardened warrior, numb to everything.

  Or so I thought, until I heard her name and a spark of something pure and untainted flared back to life inside of me, casting light on the hollows of my cold, black heart.

  I’d taken a major highway, anxious to get back to Chicago, so I couldn’t be certain I was being tailed, but something about the distance another driver coasted behind me—far enough so that I couldn’t make him out, but close enough that I couldn’t lose him either—had the hairs on the back of my neck standing at attention. Ever so gently, I pressed my foot to the gas pedal and increased my speed. It wasn’t a lot, but if the car behind me also sped up and maintained the same safe distance, my suspicions would be confirmed. When the speedometer hit 80 mph, I glanced into the rearview mirror.

  Okay, definitely following me.

  This was where other men might get nervous or fear for their safety, but not me. Keeping my eyes trained on the road ahead and my left hand steady on the steering wheel, I leaned across the dash and opened the glove compartment to retrieve my gun. I flipped my wrist and the barrel came open, showing a full chamber—exactly the way I liked it. A pistol wouldn’t be much if the guy behind me decided to open fire with an assault rifle, but up close and personal it’d get the job done.

  Scanning the horizon, I located a sign ahead for the next exit. I slowed my speed and took the off-ramp toward a 24-hour truck stop. Instead of pulling in—I didn’t need witnesses to what was about to happen—I coasted by and checked out my surroundings. In my mirror I watched as the car sailed along behind me, coming closer and closer the further away from civilization I took us. This late-model Buick I was driving could never outrun a shiny new Mustang, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t take the fucker on a wild ride while I tried to gain some advantage.

  Flooring the gas pedal, the sedan’s wheels squealed for a split second before the tires finally gained purchase and I rocketed forward. For 30 seconds I pushed the vehicle to its limits and when I knew it had given everything its had to offer, I slammed on the breaks and twisted the wheel to the left, sending me into a wide spin until I stopped, blocking the path of the oncoming Mustang. The smoke from my tires obscuring my position, I slid across the bench seat and out the passenger side door where I crouched and listened.

  Where I waited.

  I expected bullets to rain down any second, but for the time being things were at a standstill. All I heard was the steady thrum of the car’s engine, its 420 horses leashed and calm. Carefully, I settled into a position that kept my body mostly protected, but allowed me to see over the tail end of the vehicle. The Mustang idled about 25 feet away. For several long, tense seconds the other driver and I stared each other down across the smoky divide. Finally, the driver cut his engine and, raising his hands in the air to show he was unarmed, moved to exit. I cocked my gun and waited, my finger on the trigger. Better safe than sorry, I always say. The door opened slowly and the driver stepped out from behind the safety of the door and walked around to the front. There, my assailant leaned against the hood of the car, arms folded, a knowing smirk staring back at me. As if they had no need to fear me.

  They didn’t of course.

  Rising from my crouched position, I smirked back and engaged the gun’s safety. “Hello Arabella.”

  * * *

  “Hello Xander,” she purred. “Has anyone ever told you that you drive like shit?”

  “I might have heard that a time a two,” came my response as I fought a grin while remembering all the times she’d previously told me I was the worst goddamn driver she’d ever met.

  She’d been teasing, of course, but the thing was, Arabella was the best goddamn driver I’d ever met and everyone else paled in comparison. I’d often thought if she’d been born a boy, she could have had a career as a race car driver. Then again, if she’d been born a boy she would have been raised just like me. And if she’d been born a boy, I never would have had a chance to love her. And lose her.

  My eyes took in her curves, filled out since the last time I’d seen her. As a teenager, she’d had a body that drove me wild, but now with skintight leather pants disappearing into knee-high boots and a tight white v-neck that hugged her tits to perfection, I didn’t think I’d ever met a woman who looked quite as delectable as Arabella Wilson did now. I itched to run my hands over those peaks and valleys. As my cock twitched in agreement, I adjusted my stance to give it some breathing room.

  In the quiet parts of my mind, I’d imagined this moment a thousand—no, a million—times over. What I’d say or do if I ever saw her again. What our reunion would be like. How I’d kiss her tenderly until she was putty in my hands, and then I’d punish her for how she’d hurt me. How she’d made me feel. How she’d made me want.

  Yet even as I hated her for what she’d done—what she’d allowed her father to take from us
—I didn’t think I’d ever been happier or more relieved than I was at this moment. But I was furious too. I didn’t know whether to shake her senseless for pursuing me so recklessly—putting us both in danger—or to crush her to my chest and never let go.

  In the end, I did neither.

  Stuffing the gun into the waistband of my jeans, I leaned against the Buick, my arms and ankles crossed. I’d adopted a casual stance but there was nothing casual about this encounter. This wasn’t a reunion; this was business.

  “How’d you find me?” I asked.

  She laughed. “Surely you don’t think you’re the only person who knows how this game is played.” She took a few seductive steps forward. “I’ve had you followed ever since you put Teagan in the hospital. Nice work, by the way,” she added offhandedly, as if she couldn’t have cared less that I’d beaten her stupid fucking cousin to within an inch of his life.

  The fact that she could so blithely admit to having put a tail on me startled me. The Arabella who stood in front of me now wasn’t the same girl she’d been all those years before. When we’d been together, she’d been “my girl.” But now I could see that had been a disservice to her, a diminishment of who she was in her own right. This woman was my equal. Actually, scratch that. Because if I was a dangerous man, she was a very dangerous woman.

  “I have to admit I was surprised to see you’re still shit at looking over your shoulder.” She tsked and shook her head in admonishment. “Still walking around like you’re untouchable.”

  “Only a fool would dare step to me. You’d be wise to remember that.”

  She laughed again, and the sound caused a clenching in my gut. Arabella might be a completely different person than when I’d last known her, but that laugh was still the same. It was the laugh she used when she thought someone was being ridiculous … when she knew she held all the cards.

  “One man’s foolishness is another woman’s bravery … and I’m no coward. You’d be wise to remember that.” She canted her head and studied me with shrewd, flinty eyes. “Anyhow, you needed to speak with me?”