Roxanne (The Italian Cartel Book 2)

by Shandi Boyes

  “How fast can Smith look up transactions from closed bank accounts?”

  Rocco cranks his neck to face me. He’s been stationed at the corner of my room for the past hour. His unusual quiet has been off-putting, but considering the circumstances, it’s also understandable.

  Just as Rocco’s lips move to speak, Smith’s unique timber vibrates my ears. “About as quick as I can make a girl come. Why? What do you need?”

  My eyes don’t shoot around my room as they did hours ago, seeking the direction his voice came from. They hone straight in on the tiny camera in the far corner of the elaborate space. The lens appears to be a fault in the distressed wooden frame of a priceless piece of artwork above Dimitri’s desk. Only those in the know are aware it’s a state-of-the-art surveillance instrument. Smith disclosed not only can he see and hear me in every room, so can Dimitri. At the time, the thought intrigued me. Now it makes me worried. I don’t want Dimitri to think I’m seeking excuses for my parents. I’m just trying to occupy my time before I go as crazy as drugs have made my mother.

  While pacing closer to Dimitri’s desk, I ask Smith, “My grandparents’ accounts, can you see if there were any irregularities in their transactions?”

  “Such as?”

  My eyes rocket to Rocco when he answers Smith’s question on my behalf, “She wants to know if her grandparents paid to keep her safe.” As the thump of a keyboard being punished booms out of a hidden speaker above my head, Rocco pushes off the wall he’s had his shoulder propped against the past hour. “Are you sure you want to go down this rabbit warren, Roxie? Knowing the reason for someone’s fuck-ups don’t make them any easier to swallow.”

  “I know that. I just…” I’ve got nothing but a heap of tension in my stomach and watering eyes. “What if it wasn’t her fault? What if my father forced her like she said? He had a hold over her like Dimi…”

  When my words are gobbled up by the shame raining down on me, Rocco takes up their slack. “Like Dimitri does you?”

  I nod, too confused to continue acting like I’m fine. I held a gun to my mother’s head in the room where my father was killed. I almost fired at her. If that isn’t proof I’m already deep down the rabbit hole, nothing will convince you.

  After watching me brush away a tear sitting high on my cheek, Rocco locks his murky green eyes with mine. They’re still brimming with cheekiness, but there’s a smart, noble gleam to them as well. “Even with taking out all the shit that happened when you were a kid, knowing what you know now, do you think your parents were or would have been upstanding, moral citizens?”

  It should take me longer than two seconds to reach my decision. However, it doesn’t. My parents have always been awful human beings, and that was before I discovered just how polluted their morals have become.

  When I shake my head, air whizzes out of Rocco’s nose. “Exactly! Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad your parents couldn’t resist the urge, I kinda like having you around, but if they weren’t born—”

  “Fien would still be here.”

  Confusion twists in my stomach when Rocco shakes his head. “This isn’t just about Fien, Roxie. It’s about you, and me, and a man who can’t escape the demons of his past no matter how fast he runs.” Acting as if his words don’t have my heart racing a million miles an hour, he bridges the gap between us with two big strides. “No matter how fucked it is, we can’t change the past… but we can stop it happening to someone else.” After gripping my shoulders to lessen my unstable sways, he adds, “Your parents didn’t just hit this scene once in desperation. They were shrouded in it. First, your aunt and uncle, then you and your grandparents before they moved onto Audrey and Fien. They weren’t going to stop until someone stopped them. It sucks that the person has to be Dimitri, but trust me when I say it’s better than it being you.”

  Even though I agree with him—I can see me forgiving Dimitri way sooner than I’d ever forgive myself—but I’m more confused than relieved. “What does my aunt have to do with this?”

  Rocco curses under his breath before he sinks back to his makeshift station at the side of the room. No words escape his mouth for the next several seconds, but I see the truth in his remorseful gaze. Audrey wasn’t the first pregnant woman my parents took. Even every day, decent Americans know criminals test the waters in their own backyard before playing with the big hitters.

  “Hey, come on now, Roxie, breathe,” Rocco says when the air in my lungs no longer feels adequate. It feels as if I’m drowning like I am being pulled into the abyss of my horrible life. My parents killed my family. All of them are dead, and I would have been next if it weren’t for the man currently torturing my mother.

  How fucked is that to even consider?

  I can’t comprehend it.

  I also can’t breathe.

  When a high-pitch wheeze I’m certain didn’t come from me breaks through the thud of my pulse in my ears, so does Rocco’s clipped tone. “I’m just offering her comfort, dickwad. If you have a problem with me touching her, you’re gonna need to tell me in person.”

  Rocco stops rubbing one of my arms in a nurturing manner, so he can give a one-finger salute to the camera in the corner of the room. With how tight my chest is, his shit-stirring grin shouldn’t be comforting, but since it’s full of mirth, it is. It allows my lungs to suck down the tiniest slither of air that’s forced back out when a person bursts through the door on my left.

  As Dimitri’s narrowed gaze bounces between Rocco and me, his nostrils flare like his lungs are screaming as loudly as mine. He seems torn between wanting to punish me for accepting Rocco’s comfort and taking me back to the dungeon responsible for making me an orphan.

  He loses the ability to drive me to Hell’s gates when I see the blood smattered on the collar of his dress shirt. It’s so fresh, its putrid scent is stronger than the pricy aftershave he wears. It nosedives my hysteria in an instant and has me on the brink of a breakdown even quicker than that.

  When a scream rips through me like a shard of glass, nicking my heart into hundreds of tiny pieces, I can’t deny it’s from me this time around. I hate what my parents did and agree they should be punished, but I still can’t wrap my head around the fact it occurred without more fight.

  I should have fought harder.

  I should have pleaded for mercy.

  And I should have done both those things long before my parents crossed paths with Dimitri’s wife.

  “I’m sorry,” I force out through the despair clutching my throat. “For what they did. For choosing me over your wife. I’m so fucking sorry. They should have taken me. They should have hurt me. It’s my fault. Everything happening to your daughter is my fault.”

  Dimitri appears shocked my regret centers around his daughter instead of my parents, but it has nothing on the surprise that hammers me when he replies, “You can be angry about what they did, you can hate them for how they treated you, but you are not to apologize for them. Do you understand me, Roxanne? You aren’t to blame for a single thing they did.”

  Tears sting my eyes when I blubber out, “Fien would be here if it weren’t for me.”

  I feel like he slaps me as hard as he did my mother when he shouts, “Fien would be here if I hadn’t looked away. I fucked up. I made a mistake. This isn’t on you.”

  I want to believe him, but I can’t. “You said—”

  “I made a mistake,” he repeats, more forcefully. “And I’m trying to learn from it.”

  I’m so stunned by his grab of the culpability batten, I don’t realize Rocco has left the room until I’m guided past the wall his brooding frame has been holding up the past hour.

  As Dimitri walks me to the window I was peering out of earlier, the hammering of his heart is as audible as mine. I think it’s because he noticed the half-empty bottle of vodka on his desk but am proven wrong when I notice a change to the scenic backdrop of his compound. The same city skyscrapers sparkle in the distance, and the same twelve SUVs line the cobble
d driveway, however the lead SUV’s taillights bounce red hues off locks not quite as vibrant as my hair’s natural coloring, but undeniably similar.

  After watching my mother be guided into the back seat of one of Dimitri’s fleet cars, I raise my eyes to Dimitri’s. I bombard him with an array of questions without a single word escaping my lips. I’m too stunned to talk, shocked my mother walked to her awaiting chariot instead of being slid into the back seat in a body bag. She’s the reason Dimitri’s wife is dead. There’s only one punishment for that.

  Seemingly wired to my inner monologue, Dimitri says, “She hurt you first. That means only you can sentence her.” He drags the back of his finger down my wet cheek to gather up the tears there before adding, “I don’t see you having the ability to make a rational decision tonight, so we’ll wait.”

  The way he says ‘we’ makes me unsure which way is up. It was possessive and hot like I’m no longer his enemy.

  Although I’m loving his changeup, something still doesn’t make sense. “My father—”

  “Was given a choice.” Dimitri’s interruption reveals he’s still sitting on the edge of a very steep cliff. He’s as confused as me, although not as emotional. “He either confessed to everything or took the easy way out. Although it was obvious he didn’t give a crap about you, he couldn’t shut down his feelings for your mother as easily. He thought he’d protect her by—”

  “Taking the easy way out,” I interrupt.

  I hardly knew my father. Not even when I lived under the same roof as him did I understand him. He was different than my friends’ fathers, and the older I became, the more I noticed that wasn’t a good thing, but his love for my mother was undeniable. He became a monster to save her, and it’s that monster that’s slowly killing her.

  Furthermore, the bullet entry point wound I’ve been endeavoring to wash out of my head the past hour with vodka was at an odd angle. It would have taken Dimitri distorting his wrist to replicate its oddness, but why would he bother faking his death? He’s never hidden the fact he’s a killer, so why would he start now?

  Mistaking my quiet as deliberation on his honesty, Dimitri mutters, “If you don’t believe me, Smith can show you footage.”

  Some may say I’m foolish to believe him, however, I do. “I believe you.” Pretending the roaring buzz between us is from remorse instead of euphoria, I ask, “Where are they taking my mother?”

  I feel cold when he breaks away from my side so he can commence undressing. It’s been a long night in general, but he must be even more tired, considering he didn’t sleep a wink last night. “To a rehabilitation center.”

  His reply comforts me in a way I can’t explain. If he were planning to kill her, he wouldn’t put steps in place to make her a better person. He would have let her go and waited for drugs to do what I’m not sure I am capable of. As I said earlier, my parents are horrible people, but at the end of the day, I still wouldn’t be here without them.

  After placing his cufflinks into a dish on his desk, Dimitri pivots around to face me. “If it turns out what she said is untrue, her ruling will be taken out of your hands, do you understand?”

  Even with my intuition dying to drill him on what she said, I nod my head instead. He looks as burned out as I feel. The lies my mother told with the hope of saving her hide isn’t a conversation for today. I don’t think there will ever be an appropriate day, but despite that, this question can’t wait. “Did she tell you where Audrey’s body is located?”

  I’m not anticipating for him to answer me, he’s not a fan of two-way interrogations, so you can imagine my shock when he shakes his head.

  Willing to risk punishment for the greater good, I ask, “Do you believe she’s at my grandparents’ farm?”

  My heart pains for him when he shrugs. “I don’t know.” His voice is the lowest it’s ever been as are his shoulders. “We’ll travel there in the morning. For now, I need sleep.”

  I nod, agreeing with him. He looks as tired as hell.

  My head bob switches to a shake when he asks, “Have you showered?”

  “No. Rocco stayed with me.” My eyes widen when I realized my stupidity. “We didn’t do anything. He stood by the door.”

  His cocky trademark half-smirk makes me hot all over. I’m too tipsy to determine if it’s a good or bad heat. “I know. Smith isn’t the only one with eyes and ears in this room.”

  Talking about Smith, he never got back to me about my earlier question.

  I mentally book myself in for a scan to check for bugs when Dimitri reads my mind for the second time tonight. “Your queries into your grandparents’ estate will have to wait. Until I know the full extent of what’s happening, I instructed Smith not to give you half-ass assumptions.”

  Should my stomach gurgle at his confession or weaken its knot? If it were straight-up good, Smith would have given me an immediate answer. The fact it’s in the unknown has me unsure which direction my mood should swing. I hate the murkiness of the unknown. Take now, for example, should I slide into the sheets Dimitri is folding down like he should be rewarded for issuing mercy to my underserving mother or take a stand about him torturing her? I know what my libido would prefer, but my morals should be an entirely different story, shouldn’t they?

  Needing time to deliberate on my wavering personalities, I wait for Dimitri to hop into bed before I hook my thumb to the bathroom. “I’m going to take a quick shower.”

  I barely pivot halfway around when Dimitri’s deep timbre stops me. “No. No showering. You smell like me. If you wash that off, I’ll have no choice but to replace it.” Fighting the urge not to sprint to the bathroom, I crank my neck back to face him. His stare slicks my panties with moisture, but it also has my knees knocking together in a non-sexual way. “You don’t want that, Roxanne. Not only are you drunk, I had three body bags to fill tonight. I didn’t even manage one. Now is not the time to test my patience.”

  Hearing nothing but honesty in his tone, I slip between the sheets, roll onto my side, then inconspicuously wiggle to his half of the mattress until the heat of his torso warms my back. I’m not close enough to be accused of spooning, however I do feel his battering breaths hitting the back of my neck for the next several minutes. He’s as unhinged as me, and the irrefutable proof has me acting recklessly.

  “Why do we sleep in the same bed every night? Your compound has heaps of rooms, but we always share the same one.” I could pretend his low, shallow breaths are because he’s sleeping, but I’m done playing stupid. “Is it because you want to protect me like you do Fien?” When his big inhale forces contact between us, my heart sinks into my stomach. “If you’re here because you think I need saving, you’re wrong.”

  “Stop it.”

  His warning growl does little to lessen the intensity of the fire brewing in my gut. Not even half a bottle of vodka could douse it, so I don’t see anything working. “My father didn’t hurt me. Well, not physically, so if you’re thinking I’m your penance to get Fien back sooner, you’re wrong.”

  “I’m not going to ask you again, Roxanne. Stop. It!”

  I can’t stop. Once my lips get flapping, there’s no reeling them back in. “Most people assume I have daddy issues, and you’d be the best person to unkink them, but that isn’t why I’m here.”

  “For fuck’s sake, will you shut up!”

  “I don’t need saving. I was doing fine on my own. I was a little lonely and somewhat unsure what I was going to do next, but—”

  “Goddammit, Roxanne.” In less than a second, I’m pulled onto my back, pinned on the mattress by Dimitri’s large frame, and incredibly turned on. “You’re not here because I want to save you with the hope a good deed will free my daughter. You’re in my bed because I want to do the exact opposite. I want to devour you. Fuck you. Possess you so bad, the next time you have a gun pressed to your mother’s head, you won’t think about pulling the trigger, you’ll do it. I want to mark every inch of you until the thoughts of what Rimi
would have done to you if Audrey hadn’t taken your place leave my head. Then I want to punish you some more for making me doubt who he should have taken.”

  His dangerous eyes dance between mine when he asks, “Do you have any idea the guilt associated with how you make me feel? The angst of wondering why I’m glad they took my wife instead of you. You were a fucking stranger, a goth standing on the corner undeserving of my time, but every single time I’ve prayed to go back and switch you with Audrey, I prayed just as quickly for that prayer not to be answered. She was carrying my daughter, my flesh and blood, yet I still couldn’t put her first.” It feels like my heart is torn out of my chest cavity when he adds, “So the next time you feel the need to ask why we sleep in the same bed, perhaps first consider the fact even someone as heartless as me can recognize that he doesn’t deserve to get his daughter back, so he has no reason to save anyone, let alone someone who doesn’t need saving.”

  With his jaw tight and words spoken he can never take back, he springs up from the bed without so much of a strain on his face before he stalks to the door.

  His long strides are cut in half when I gabble out, “You should have killed them, then I’d stop looking at you the way you hate, and you wouldn’t feel guilty about something you can’t control.”

  Nothing but my shocked breaths are heard when he replies, “Why do you think I held back?”

  Stealing my chance to reply, he walks out the door, slamming it behind him.

  Four

  Roxanne

  My blurry eyes lift to Rocco when he joins Smith and me in the lead SUV of Dimitri’s fleet of four. The brutal slam of his door adds to the thunderous thump of my head, but it has nothing on the worry that bombards me when Dimitri fails to follow his trek.

  We’ve been waiting almost twenty minutes, ten minutes over the time Dimitri demanded for everyone to be here this morning. We’re not behind schedule because of Rocco. He only left the car in search of Dimitri.