by J. L. Drake
“What does Elio do for a living?”
Again, I stumbled and figured I really should have a blanket statement rehearsed for times like these.
“Import-export stuff.”
“Sounds broad,” she laughed.
“It’s really not that interesting.”
“Seems it.” She brushed the crumbs from her palms. “I hate to go, but I have to get back to the boys.”
“Of course.” I gathered my things, and she walked with me back toward where Abramo had parked the car.
“Yikes, who is that guy?” she asked as we approached.
“That would be my driver.”
“Driver?” She looked at me, confused. “Fancy.”
“Yeah, not really.”
“He looks a little scary.”
“I think that’s just his normal expression.” I chuckled. We had spent over two hours at our lunch, and I wondered if he had just stood there the whole time.
“Well, on that note,” she chuckled as she shot Abramo a quick glance, “promise me you’ll keep in touch.”
“You have my word.”
She wrapped me up in a hug. “God, I missed you.”
“Me too.”
We said our goodbyes, then Abramo, with his face like stone, escorted me back into the car.
“Abramo, would you happen to have a phone charger?” I held up my nearly dead phone.
“I don’t, but I’ll get one.” He waited for me to climb in.
We started down the road, and I leaned back and let my head soak in all Cara had told me, particularly the bit about Renzo. Over the years, I had replayed that day so many times in my head that it was like a mini movie trailer set on loop. Had I really rid the world of one more villain? There was a part of me that hoped he had rotted away in that alley. I wondered how I was never charged. My prints were all over that pipe, and I knew they were in the police database from a breaking and entering I’d done a few years before. I’d gotten off scot-free, but still I had been processed. I wasn’t complaining. My freedom and his death were well deserved, but it was the one secret I’d kept locked up tight. I never told a soul about it, not even Wyatt. Maybe Mad Red had witnessed my crazy moment and had stashed the weapon before anyone found it. Either way, I felt justice was served, and now I knew he was truly gone from my life forever.
I was so lost in my thoughts that it startled me when the car came to an abrupt stop. I blinked and looked around, seeing that we had stopped between two buildings. My heart started to pound as Abramo turned the engine off.
“I need to talk to someone. Stay here.”
“Where are we?”
“Stay here,” he repeated before he jumped out of the car and locked the doors.
I unclipped my seatbelt and dug around in my purse for my phone but discovered it was on its last leg, and after two taps on the home screen, it died.
Dammit.
I rummaged some more and found a pen but no paper, not even a gum wrapper. Where did the newspaper from earlier go? Mr. Friendly must have tossed it. I leaned forward and dug around on the front seat and in the glovebox, but I came up empty. With a huff, I sat back down and searched the back pocket of the seat in front of me. I cringed at the thought of what I might be touching, but at the very bottom I was rewarded.
“Yes,” I mumbled at the little piece of cardstock. It had some writing on one side, so I flipped it over and wrote down the numbers above the door Abramo had disappeared through. I glanced back and wrote down the street name I could see. Maybe it was nothing, but Elio said rules were rules, and Abramo had officially broken the number one rule of a driver. He left me alone, and second, he left me alone in a car in a strange area. Normally, I wouldn’t rat someone out, but I hadn’t wanted Abramo as my driver in the first place.
I tucked the paper in my purse, scrunched down in the seat, and waited for him to return. He didn’t return for another ten minutes. When he did, he slipped behind the wheel and glared at me in the mirror without an explanation. I didn’t give him the pleasure of asking him anything as he pulled away. I didn’t say a word the entire way home, and his little glances in my direction gave me the creeps. I would not be going anywhere with this man again.
He parked out front of the Hill House, and he didn’t get out of the car to open the door. He just sat. I reached for the doorhandle to get out of the car, and he turned around in the driver’s seat.
“I want to apologize for leaving you alone in the car today. I needed to pick up something for my niece, and it was the only opportunity I had before her birthday tomorrow. If it counts, I could see you the entire time.”
Something told me not to trust him, but maybe he was telling the truth.
“Okay.” I wasn’t sure what to say, so I jumped out and hurried inside. I did catch his intense stare as I closed the door.
I found Donte in the kitchen elbows deep in dinner.
“Hey, are you okay?” He stopped what he was doing and eyed me.
“Is there any wine?” I felt my nerves tingling. “Better yet, is there anything stronger?”
He handed me a bottle of whiskey and a glass.
I poured a small amount and took the shot. My eyes watered at the taste, but I poured another.
“Donte,” I grunted through the burn, “what can you tell me about Abramo?”
His mouth dropped, and he looked around before he moved closer.
“Why are you asking me this?”
“Because I just spent the day with him as my driver, and I will never do it again.”
“He’s not good, Sienna,” he warned with such intensity that I wanted to shiver. “How did he become your driver?”
“Elio arranged it.”
His eyes closed and he cursed. “The family thinks he’s great, but they don’t see him for who he is. He does all the dirty work for Mrs. Greta. That’s Elio’s nonna,” he clarified, and I bit my tongue to not share my own feelings on her. “No one touches or speaks badly of Mrs. Greta. You’ll soon learn that the older generation holds tremendous power within any syndicate. Anyway,” he shook his head to get back on track, “I’ve heard stories about Abramo that make some nightmares look like a child’s show.” He suddenly stopped talking and went back to work as footsteps became louder. “Shh,” he warned.
“Why didn’t I get an invite to the party?” Mariano came in and snatched the bottle from my hand then poured himself a double shot.
“I just got home.” I downed another drink, not needing him right now.
“So, are we going out or not?” Anna snickered as she came in, half in the bag.
“Yes, yes.” Mariano brushed her off and gave me a look. “Why don’t you join us?”
“No,” Anna spoke for me, “no tagalongs. I refuse to babysit a prissy little uptight girl who wants to pretend she’s the princess in the castle, when she’s anything but…” She flipped her pin-straight hair over her bony shoulder. When I didn’t react, she went on. “Elio was supposed to marry me. That was the deal after what my father did for their family.”
I felt rage burn through my veins at that. It was the first I’d heard of it.
“It was all supposed to happen, and then you came along. Little orphan girl, with the big blue eyes, and the big fake boobs.”
I licked the inside of my mouth, leaned over the island, grabbed her hand, and yanked her straight down onto the marble countertop. I moved my face inches from hers and smiled like the crazy person I was becoming.
“Elio wants a real woman, not some skinny drunk who can’t keep the bottle from her jacked-up lip job. Nor would he even want to entertain visiting your eight-men-a-day, stretched out, trailer trash vag.” She blinked at my crass words. “Come at me again, and I promise I will show you what I learned on the streets.”
I let go and leaned back, snatching the bottle from Mariano, who stared at me with a gaping mouth. “Oh, Anna, these are far from fake.” I took another shot, high-fived Donte behind the counter, and left.
> A while later and after the whiskey dulled the pain, I made a plan. I needed this for me. I sent a text and headed downstairs.
“Donte?” He looked up at me and smiled, but it fell when he looked at the bag I carried. “Can you give this to Elio?” I handed him a piece of paper. “I’m not leaving the country. I’m just going to the hotel where my mother is staying. I need a break.”
“Of course. May I?” He took my phone from me and entered his number. “I might be crossing a line here, but friends are supposed to exchange numbers.” I gave him a hug.
I retrieved my luggage from the entryway of the Hill House and once again felt like I didn’t belong as Cousin Ugo opened the car door for me.
“I was shocked when you called.”
“That makes two of us.” Happy Abramo had gone back to his lair at Nonna’s, I climbed inside the black town car and was glad to hide behind its tinted windows.
By the time we arrived at the hotel, it was dark, and I checked into a room a few doors down from my mother’s. I could barely hold it together. I sat on the edge of the bed, clutched my necklace, and felt my sides burn.
What was happening with Elio?
I leaned back, closed my eyes, and fell into a restless sleep.
New York was hot and muggy when we landed at JFK, and I was more than ready to climb in the back of the limo when it arrived on the tarmac.
“He’s in town,” Niccola said as he climbed inside the car and removed his suit jacket.
“Good.” I knocked on the partition for the driver to take the detour. I pointed the air vent at me and tried to focus. The heatwave that was smothering the west coast had now reached us.
“I’ll wait in the car.” Vinni tapped his knee, nervous as always whenever we met up with this particular man. “The guy gives me the creeps.”
“You killed for the mafia this morning, you have friends in the Mexican Cartel, but yet this guy gives you the creeps?” Niccola rolled his eyes, and I smirked behind my hand.
“Yeah, he does.” Vinni’s heel started to tap rapidly. “I get you’ve known him since you were young, and I know there’s some crazy story about you two fighting and then flipping the tables on some event, but at the end of the day, there’s the mafia and there’s him. Plus, he has a stare that goes right through me. It’s like he can see your soul.”
“Deal with this, then.” I dropped a file on his lap and watched his computer brain tackle the latest numbers on our last oil shipment. Papa wanted me to see if I spotted anything, but, of course I didn’t, since I now knew Stefano was only using the trafficking as a ploy. However, an extra pair of eyes on it never hurt, and Vinni needed the distraction.
We parked under an overpass, and when I stepped out and buttoned my jacket, the doors to a warehouse opened and out came the Devil’s Reach. To anyone else they were ruthless, but to us they were an ally. Trigger and I did have a history, one that dated back to our youth. We fought in the same underground competitions. The first fight he won, and the second I won. The only difference was I didn’t get a beating if I lost. After I met Trigger’s soulless father, we made a deal never to set foot in the same ring together. Instead, we worked together to weed out any scum that crossed our paths—that was, until I stopped fighting. Since then, we kept our friendship quiet and our working relationship a secret. The best allies were the ones you never saw coming.
“Heard you found your girl,” Trigger said through a joint that dangled from his mouth.
“And I heard you got married.”
“Yeah,” he smirked, “who’da thought?” I’d normally give a handshake, but I knew better with Trigger.
“Shit.” Rail, one of Trigger’s men, pulled at the crotch of his jeans. “Damn humidity. It’s makin’ my balls stick to my leg.”
“Really?” Brick rolled his eyes. “Then maybe you need to start wearing fucking panties.”
“Fuck you, you know I love being commando.”
Trigger cleared his throat, making the guys shut up.
“So?” I didn’t have a lot of time. “Anything?”
“Yeah.” Trigger glanced back at Brick, who came forward holding some paperwork. He handed it to me. “It took some digging, and Brick pulled an unusual favor, but we got a little info on Stefano.”
I flipped through the photos and scanned the research. Stefano was working with Jacob. In fact, he had bought a house in northern Italy. On my land. The notes indicated that he blew through women quickly then beat them when he was finished with them. There were no police records of any of them coming forward with complaints. That didn’t surprise me. I kept scanning until I found a location of where he and Jacob had been seen together. There were also some credit card numbers that I could run later. It would help me study his habits.
“No mention of a Mikey?”
“Dead end.” Brick shrugged at me. “No one in the Coppola syndicate or affiliated with them came up with that name.”
“All right.” I held up the papers. “I appreciate this.”
“We have some shit to deal with ourselves.” Trigger nodded over his shoulder to a guy who hung from chains. He looked to have a dislocated shoulder, and his head was a bloody mess. “But if you need help.”
“Oh, yes,” Rail flicked his tongue like a snake, “say the word, and we’ll be there.”
“Thanks, but this one is all me.” I smiled then pulled out an envelope and handed it to Trigger.
“I said no payment. This was no trouble.”
“It’s not a payment,” I motioned for my guys to prepare to leave, “it’s a wedding present.”
Trigger chuckled as we slipped in behind the tinted glass of the limo, and Vinni let out a deep breath.
“Did he know I was here?”
“You know, he didn’t ask.” Niccola snickered at Vinni. “Some people can be so rude.”
“What did you hand him at the end?” Vinni ignored his brother.
“A wedding gift.”
“Which was?” He looked panicked while I let my smile stretch across my lips. “No. Oh, fuck no. I won’t be there when he arrives. Why the beach villa? That’s my favorite spot.”
“Because,” I watched Trigger glance inside the envelope and nod, “he deserves it.”
After a quick trip to the hotel, we met up with some people to prepare for the evening. We headed out for dinner at the Flatiron Room to pay some respect to Maxon, the owner.
I wanted to show him my gratitude for letting my men know that Jacob Raine was running his mouth all over the city by gifting him one of his favorite bottles of whiskey, a twenty-one-year- old Suntory Hibiki. A bottle normally ran around fifteen hundred US dollars. I also would do us both a big favor. I would get rid of Raine once and for all.
He was blown away by the whiskey and was relieved to hear that the little shit was not long for this world. The truth was Jacob Raine was becoming a problem for a good number of people in the city, and if I didn’t act fast, I just might miss the moment to kill him myself.
“Anything they want, it’s theirs,” Maxon told the waitress. She nodded as she took out the key to the whiskey cage on the wall.
“I’ll be right back, gentlemen.” She winked at me, and I nodded but turned away to indicate I wasn’t interested in anything but the whiskey.
“Seriously,” Niccola shook his head, “Antonio Gattani still hasn’t paid his bill for that wine.”
“Don’t you mean Cavaliere Bianco?” Vinni rolled his eyes at the asshole’s lame last name. He was a shit wanna-be bigshot that had a reputation for stalking young women. As far as I was concerned, he had dug his grave and now just needed to be in it.
“Kill him.” I shrugged.
“Or can we give him a warning?” Francesco eyed me and tread carefully.
“I already did. His time has already started.”
“All right, if he doesn’t pay, then we kill him.”
“Yup, I’ll pass that along.” Niccola started typing while I remained quiet waiting for
the green light that one of my men had found Jacob.
“You okay, Elio?” Francesco leaned over.
I turned to look at him dead-on and waited a beat. “Never better.”
“Have you spoken to Sienna since you landed?”
“No.” I had a moment of clarity and wondered if I should reach out. I pulled my phone from the breast pocket of my suit jacket and sent her a quick text.
Elio: Are you at our place?
I stared at the screen and wondered if I should say anything else. Part of me wanted to call, but before I could think, another message popped up with a street address.
“It’s time.” I stood, buttoned my jacket, dropped a hundred on the table, and we headed out into the night. We handed our phones to one of my men who would attend a Broadway show tonight and made sure he would buy a few drinks on my credit card. We went over the plan one more time then loaded into another car that was waiting for us.
Niccola watched the mirrors while I played my part.
I moved into position outside his door, holding a bag and a soda cup which was full of gasoline. They had ordered food and were waiting for their order. I was only too pleased to deliver it.
“Knock, knock.” I used my best American accent and pounded low on the door. “Chinese delivery.”
“It’s about fucking time, son,” Jacob yelled than barked at one of his guys to answer the door. I heard a sound and knew Francesco and Vinni had done their part to take out his guys in the back. I knocked again loudly to draw Jacob to the door.
“Food delivery!”
“Shit, I’m comin’!”
Jacob swung open the door, and I tossed the gasoline in his eyes. He bent down and screamed as it burned his eyeballs and stung his skin.
“Ahh! What the hell?” he screamed and rammed into a table. For a guy with his money, he had a nasty-ass shoebox of a house. I stepped inside, closed the door, pulled out a handful of zip ties, and pushed him into a chair. I snapped the ties tight around his legs and wrists. “Who are you? I’m gonna kill you!” His eyes squeezed tight against the sting of the gasoline, and his head shook back and forth.
My mind was on one thing, blood. I didn’t say a word.
