I turn my attention back to Joaquin, taking in the blood that covers his shirt, his pants—his fucking hands and I force a swallow. I don’t have words for him.
Not in the state he’s in.
All I got is the generic bullshit we’ve been schooled to say to anyone who has lost someone they care about. It doesn’t fill the void. It doesn’t lessen the blow. They are empty fucking words that go in one ear and out the other.
“I’m sorry about Pilar, brother.”
“Yeah,” he says, lifting his glass. “Me too.” He knocks back his drink and pours another.
“Do you want Manny or Omar to go back to your place and grab some clean clothes for you?”
He turns around and glances down at his attire before bringing his eyes back to mine.
“Why? Does the sight make you sick?”
I suppose it should. It did make me sick when I was looking at Violet, but in this moment it doesn’t. Maybe it’s because I have seen him like this before. Sure, he wasn’t sporting the blood of the woman he loved then, but his hands were nonetheless dirty.
“Just trying to help you out, man,” I say evenly. He scoffs at that, but I don’t deter. “I know what you want, Joaquin. I know what you fucking crave, and we’ll do it. You’ll get your revenge, brother. I promise you we will wipe every motherfucker ever to shake Pablo’s hand off the fucking grid, but we can’t do that right now. Too many eyes. Too much heat. Not to mention we got your sister in the next room and Uncle Vic at the Port of Miami waiting for me.”
He lifts his chin and curls his lip.
“Can’t keep the don waiting, can we?”
His hand tightens around the glass as rage fills his eyes.
“This is on him,” he sneers. “He staged that thing with Pablo to teach you a fucking lesson and created a war, one that took Pilar’s life.” The glass goes flying, nearly clipping me in the head before it crashes against the wall.
He doesn’t blame Victor, not really.
If there is anyone who genuinely respects my uncle in this business and doesn’t just kiss his ass, it’s the bitter man standing in front me. He’s hurt and desperate for revenge. He’s just talking out of his fucking ass.
“Joaquin—”
“Don’t! I know to you she was just a fucking a junkie, but there was more to her than drugs. So much more. She needed help. She needed someone to love her and put her first. I should’ve been that person. That’s what she wanted. She wanted me. She wanted a family and what did I give her? I’ll tell you what I gave her, I gave her five hundred dollars to get an abortion and then I gave her death.”
“You didn’t kill her,” I argue. “I know you’re angry and you have every right to be—”
“Spare me the bullshit, Rocco,” he scoffs. “You’re horrible at it.” He pauses and his eyes sweep around the room. “Where is my sister?”
“In my bedroom.”
He nods.
“You want to do something for me? See to it she gets home safely and sooner rather than later. I don’t trust those motherfuckers. We may have killed whoever showed up tonight, but I don’t doubt there isn’t a whole slew of Pablo’s men waiting to strike.”
I don’t know how I’m supposed to deal with Violet and whatever the fuck my uncle has planned for me, but I don’t divulge that to Joaquin because the burner phone in my pants pocket vibrates.
Pulling it out, I stare at the screen.
Pier 52. Don’t be late.
This fucking guy.
I lift my head.
“I have to meet Uncle Vic,” I say, glancing behind me at Omar and Manny. “I’ll keep Omar here with you and Vi. Manny will come with me.” My eyes move back to Joaquin’s. “We’ll figure it out.”
I hope.
Chapter 12
Rocco Spinelli
Making my way through the shipping yard, I bypass the massive containers. In New York, my uncle has control over everything that comes and leaves in the containers, but here a guy like Pablo moves his drugs in them. The product is hidden inside household items and carted overseas. No one blinks an eye.
Just as I reach the pier, I recall everything Joaquin said before I left. At the time I told myself he didn’t really mean any of it, but there is some truth to his accusations. Uncle Vic put Pablo in our path to test me. He may have assumed I’d fail, but he knew Joaquin wouldn’t. No one was going to get away with selling drugs in Temptations and the second we struck, we declared war.
On Pablo and the men who control these piers.
On every motherfucking drug dealer in Miami.
My uncle might be an expert on power struggles in New York, but he doesn’t know jack shit about how things work around here. The mob doesn’t rule the streets here, the cartel does. And now, I’m starting to fear that I’m leaving Joaquin in the middle of a war, one he’s going to have to fight himself because I’ll be too busy pretending to be Al Capone.
Spotting Uncle Vic and the two bodyguards from earlier, I tell Manny to stay put and keep an eye out for any suspicious activity. I don’t think I was tailed, but I’m also a little preoccupied tonight. You know—murders, drug lords, naked ballerinas—they all take their toll and knock a man off his game.
“You’re late,” Uncle Vic calls the second his eyes land on me.
“By two fucking minutes,” I seethe. “Cut me some slack, Uncle Vic, my hands have been kind of full tonight.”
He unbuttons his suit jacket and reaches into the inside pocket, pulling out a cigar. It’s the middle of the night and the guy still looks like he’s ready to grace the cover of GQ magazine. How the fuck is that even possible?
“What happened?” he questions as he inspects the cigar.
Sure I heard him wrong, I stare at him for a beat. Either the cancer has spread to his brain or the man is just a sick fuck.
“You were there,” I remind him. “You know what fucking happened.”
He lifts his eyes to me.
“Are you getting loud with me?”
That’s it.
I’ve officially reached my breaking point. Fuck being calm, cool, and collected. It’s obviously got me nowhere.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake. You know what—I’ve had enough of this shit,” I shout. “I don’t give a fuck if you think I’m incompetent. So, I don’t have my shit together, at least I don’t fuck with innocent lives. Pilar is dead, something you’d know if you had bothered to stick around but you’re not the type to get your hands dirty so you sneak out the back door like a fucking phantom.”
Anticipating a verbal lashing for disrespecting him, I brace myself. He doesn’t deliver, though, and for some reason that angers me even more.
Totally unfazed, he says, “Pilar.”
“Yeah, Pilar,” I grind out. “If you did your homework, you’d know that Joaquin was deeply involved with her.”
He shoves the cigar between his lips and fishes a lighter from his pocket. Taking a puff, he looks at me thoughtfully.
“How did you handle it?”
I have no idea what he’s referring to.
“You’re going to have to be a little more specific, I’ve got a lot of balls in the air.”
Too many.
“Well…” His voice trails as he takes another puff of the cigar, blowing the smoke directly in my face. I start to cough as he continues to carry on. “If what you say is true, I’m going to assume Joaquin wasn’t in the frame of mind to handle the aftermath, so tell me, Rocco, what did you do?”
“Is this another fucking test or perhaps a lesson in Mob 101? You really got a knack for this shit.” The guy should’ve been a professor instead of a gangster—imagine that.
“I asked you a question.”
Blowing out an exasperated breath, I angrily comb my fingers through my hair. Nothing shakes this man. Not a fucking thing.
“I cut the surveillance tapes in the restaurant, bought the owner, and cleared the guns. Then I took Violet back to my place and sent Omar to get Joaquin.
The cops think Pablo’s guys came into the restaurant and opened gunfire, Pilar and Joaquin were just out to dinner and got stuck in the crossfire. There was no mention of you.”
Seemingly satisfied, he nods his head and takes another puff of the cigar.
“Where is Joaquin now?”
“Back at my place. The next couple of days are going to be rough—”
“The next couple of days are going to be business as usual. Did you forget the conversation we had earlier this evening? Your ass is getting on a plane tomorrow morning and you’re coming back to New York. We have a sit down in Queens tomorrow night. That’s where I’m going to introduce you to a couple of guys—”
It’s my turn to cut him off. I knew he was serious about me leaving, but I thought I had some time. A couple of days at least. That would be enough time to help Joaquin make funeral arrangements and get Violet on a plane back home.
“Hold up. I can’t leave tomorrow.”
“Sure you can and you will.”
Fuck that.
“Uncle Vic, Joaquin is in no frame of mind to handle things here and I got his sister…” My voice trails as he lifts an amused eyebrow.
Leaving Joaquin to deal with the ramifications of Pablo’s death is one thing. He knows when Uncle Vic says jump, I have no choice but to say how high. He’ll understand that much, but I gave my word that I’d take care of Violet. That I’d get her back home safe and sound before all hell imploded.
I won’t piss on my word.
Not this time.
Not when it comes to her.
The amusement leaves Uncle Vic’s face and he narrows his eyes at me.
“What about her?” he questions.
“What the hell am I supposed to do with her?”
“I don’t give a fuck what you do with the girl. Now, Joaquin has a bigger set of balls than you, he’ll man up. You just be on that fucking plane.”
“Look, there’s got to be somebody else. What about Jimmy Gold? Isn’t he your underboss? This is his fucking gig, not mine.”
“Jimmy Gold is rotting away in jail with half his body burned,” Uncle Vic seethes. “If you paid attention to anything but your dick, you’d know that. Now, get your fucking head out of your ass. If there was someone else, I wouldn’t be wasting my time with you.”
“You’re not hearing me.”
“No, Rocco, you’re not hearing me. Be at the airport at six in the morning.”
~*~
Opening the door to my apartment, I feel around the wall for the light switch and flick it on before kicking the door shut. Startled, Omar jumps up from the couch looking disoriented. Must be nice to fall asleep. I don’t remember the last time I got a full night’s rest.
“Where’s Joaquin?” I ask, tossing my keys on the console table.
He glances at his watch before jutting his thumb over his shoulder toward the hallway.
“An hour after he depleted your liquor cabinet, he crashed in the guest room.”
My how the tables have turned.
“And Violet?”
“She came out of the bedroom a little while after you left and tried to talk to Joaquin, but he wasn’t having it. She made herself some tea and went back into your room. Hasn’t come out since, so I’m gonna guess she finally fell asleep too.” He pauses. “What about you? Everything go good with Vic?”
Shrugging off my jacket, I scoff.
“Not exactly,” I say, taking a seat on the couch across from where he stands. “I have to be at the airport in a couple of hours to go back to New York. Obviously, Joaquin is staying here. The original plan was for him to run the nightclub and take care of the rental properties while I’m gone, but I don’t know where his head is at so I’m relying on you to keep me in the loop.”
“Whatever you need,” he says, taking a seat. “What about his sister? What do you want to do with her?”
I undo the top two buttons of my dress shirt and glance toward the hallway.
“I’ve got Violet, you just worry about Joaquin.”
“Absolutely.”
Slapping my hands to my thighs, I draw out a breath.
“I need to take a shower and try to get an hour or two of sleep before I deal with my fucking uncle. Have the car downstairs at five.”
He gives me a nod and I stand. I make my way to my bedroom and find Violet asleep on my bed. Thankfully, she decided to take one of my t-shirts out of the drawer and cover herself up. But even with the clothes and the comforter pulled over her, a part of me yearns to touch her. Giving in to temptation, I lean forward and gently brush a strand of her hair away from her face. She stirs slightly but doesn’t wake. I pull my hand away and undo the rest of the buttons of my shirt. Tearing my eyes away from her, I head for the bathroom. Another second and I’m not sure I’ll be able to control myself.
Once I’m inside the bathroom, I quickly strip and turn on the shower. Stepping inside, I close the glass doors and let the hot water rain down on me. Everything that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours finally catches up to me and tension fills every inch of my body. I close my eyes and lean my forehead against the tiles. It doesn’t take long for my mind to wander to Violet and how I peeled the dress from her body inside this very shower.
I didn’t let myself look at her, but I wish I had. I wish I would’ve taken her face in my hands and pulled her lips to mine. I would’ve fucked her mouth like it was my job and gave her at least one good memory for her birthday.
Christ.
With everything going on, I didn’t realize all of this happened on the day we should’ve been celebrating her. She came to Miami looking for a good time and all she got was a fucking nightmare.
I turn the water off and grab a towel from the rack. Wrapping it around my waist, I lean over the vanity and wipe the steam from the mirror with the palm of my hand. I brace my hands on the edge of the counter and stare at my reflection, much like I did the night I brought her back to my hotel room.
Then, I was able to convince myself I was no good, that she deserved more than anything I could give her. That I wasn’t the man she thought I was and the sooner she realized that the better off she’d be.
Tonight, I don’t give a fuck.
She’s already seen the worst of me.
I turn around and pull open the door. Padding across the bedroom, I round the bed and pull down the covers. I look at her small frame and I wait for my conscience to rear its ugly head, but it doesn’t.
Maybe it fucking died tonight with everything else.
Dropping the towel from my body, I climb into the bed and roll onto my side. I peel the comforter away from Violet and trail a hand down her side. My fingers round her hip and I pull her flush against me, burying my face in the crook of her neck. I breathe in her scent and my body instantly reacts. I press my lips to her neck, flicking my tongue over her silky skin and a groan rips past my lips.
She mewls softly and turns her head. I inch back and her eyes flutter open. Shock fills her features as she stares at me, but it quickly fades and is replaced with something that looks a fuck of a lot like lust. There’s no way I can ignore that. No turning back.
I bring my hands up to her face and my thumb gently traces her lower lip.
“Happy birthday, Bug,” I rasp.
She doesn’t reply, she simply winds her arms around my neck and waits for me to make my move. I search her eyes, looking for the slightest shred of doubt or fear…anything that tells me this isn’t what she wants. But those blue eyes hold nothing but promise. Bending my head, I suck in a breath and put us both out of our misery by slamming my lips against hers.
So fucking soft.
So fucking perfect.
So fucking intoxicating.
Unable to restrain myself, my tongue slides over her lips, coaxing her mouth open.
Just one taste.
One fucking taste.
Her fingers comb through my hair and her lips part, granting me permission to take…and take I do
. I slide my tongue over hers and she moans. It’s the sweetest fucking sound and all the encouragement I need to fuck her mouth. I drive my fingers through her hair, fisting the ends and angling her head so I can kiss her deeper.
The tension I was feeling in the shower starts to dissolve as she kisses me back. My teeth scrape her lips, our tongues clash, and my fucking dick—hard as steel—presses against her belly.
I don’t know who pulls away first, if it’s a joint effort or what, but as soon as our mouths separate, our eyes spring open and we stare at one another.
“You kissed me,” she whispers.
“Yeah,” I rasp.
“Do it again.”
I’m not sure if it’s a plea or a demand, but I answer the call and this time I kiss her slowly, savoring every fucking second, knowing it’s all I’m ever going to get.
Men like me don’t get to keep pretty little things like Violet.
We live for the stolen moments and take what we can get.
Men like me are destined to end up alone.
Chapter 13
Violet Cabrera
I can still feel his lips against mine. Still taste him and feel his hard cock pressing into my stomach. At first I thought I was dreaming, that my mind was finally letting me escape the hell I witnessed, but with every stroke of his tongue and thrust of his hips I became all the more aware that I was in bed with Rocco. He was naked and he was kissing me like I’ve never been kissed before and I wanted more.
So much more.
I wanted that skilled mouth to explore every inch of me.
I wanted to feel his hands all over my skin.
I wanted to know how it felt to have him inside me.
But Rocco pumped the brakes before any of that could happen. I’m still trying to figure out why. I mean, I know he was into it—I felt that much. He could barely walk when he climbed out of the bed, that’s how hard he was. I tried to convince him not to leave. Hell, I fucking begged him, but he took his naked ass to the living room and left me with my fingers between my legs.
Straightened Out (The Pastore Crime Family Book 1) Page 9
