Until Tomorrow Comes: A Dark Mafia Romance (Beauty in Lies Book 1)

by Adelaide Forrest

  "He said he'd rape her and kill her if I didn't do it," he whispered, glancing to Matteo. "I'm sorry, Boss. I didn't—"

  "Do what, Jake?"

  "There's a bomb in the cash bag. He has the detonator. He's supposed to monitor Sandro after he picks it up and detonate it when he goes to collect from Indulgence. Sandro parks the car close enough to do decent damage to the back, and the hope is he'll take out Lino and Enzo in the process," Jake admitted, hanging his head. "That's all I know. Just, please, get my wife out of town before Murphy comes for her." The name Murphy made anger flood my veins. He was a man who wanted nothing more than to take Matteo’s city from him and turn it into a trafficking hub.

  "He should leave her to die for your betrayal. If you had come to him in the first place, that's when he could have offered to protect her," I snapped, stepping out of the man's space. There was nothing I detested more than a traitor who turned his back on the organization that gave him a home and put food on his table, when others might have condemned him.

  "I'll see that she and your sister get a ticket out of Chicago. That's the best I can do, given the circumstances," Matteo said. He nodded to Ryker, who held out his hand for his hatchet, waiting for me to hand it over so he could deal the killing blow.

  I smiled at him instead, swinging the hatchet into Jake's forehead so it lodged directly between his eyes. Blood trickled down the sides of the blade, running over his lips until his head slumped forward and the handle propped him up slightly when it hit his chest. Ryker pouted as Calix chuckled, shaking his head as if it was childish that Ryker and I fought for the right to kill people.

  Turning for the door, I tugged it open and accepted my jacket from the man who foisted it on me anxiously. Patting his cheek briefly to thank him for keeping it pristine, I shrugged it on and made my way for the front of the warehouse. "Where are you going?" Matteo asked.

  "I think I'll pay my friend Enzo a visit!" I called back as Calix hurried to keep up with me.

  The fucking icy wind of winter greeted me the moment we stepped outside.

  Why couldn't war come in July?

  2

  Rafael

  It wasn’t the first time I’d been to Indulgence, though it had still been under Matteo’s father’s management then. After his father’s untimely demise, Matteo renovated and brought the club into the modern era with clean and modern lines that reminded me of my own clubs in Ibiza.

  Only the best of timeless elegance for our houses of endless sin.

  A man I’d never met before headed us off before we could make our way up the winding steps to the offices, stepping into our path with his arms crossed over his chest. “We’re here to see Lorenzo Vescovi,” I said, knowing from our conversations that the name would aggravate Enzo to no end.

  “He’s busy,” the man said shortly. “What can I do for you gentlemen?” He glanced toward Calix and the two silent bodyguards at our backs, and I smirked at the reinforcement of my earlier statement. In our business, appearances mattered. One either needed to be a stone-cold man in a suit who tolerated no shit, or a meathead with tattoos covering all visible skin, if he wanted to intimidate the locals.

  Sometimes both.

  “Enzo will want to see us. This is Calix Regas, and I am Rafael Ibarra,” I said, watching as recognition settled over the man’s features. He nodded dutifully, turning on his heel and guiding us up the steps and past the VIP area. Up another flight of stairs, and we came to the offices on the top level of the converted warehouse that housed Matteo’s favorite nightclub.

  The door of the first office stood ajar, and our guide lurked in the open door. “Yeah?” a male voice asked from within. Having had enough phone conversations with Enzo to coordinate our assistance, there was no doubt in my mind that he was the voice’s owner.

  “Rafael Ibarra and Calix Regas are here—” His voice cut off as Calix and I shouldered our way into the office. Santiago and Nikolaus lurked in the hallway behind us, standing guard without getting in the way. They’d make themselves known at the first sign of trouble, but they relaxed in the moments where we were as safe as possible with allies.

  “The polite thing to do is wait for me to invite you in,” Enzo said, a grin teasing his mouth. His gaze moved to Calix and he nodded his greeting, reminding me that the two men had met several times when I sent Calix to represent me in business dealings, when I couldn’t be bothered to come stateside. A dark smile played at my lips when his attention came back to me, and he blinked at the shock of mismatched eyes that often drew attention to my face and worked to camouflage the devil that lurked within.

  “Enzo,” I greeted, holding out a hand for him to shake.

  He grasped my hand, returning the gesture with a polite smile. “Can I get you anything?”

  “What about me?” Calix grinned, moving to the whiskey on Enzo’s desk and helping himself to a drink. “Fuck, I forgot what a bitch that flight is.”

  “You’re early,” Enzo said, smiling at Calix indulgently.

  “Ah well, you know how it goes. My timeline has moved up. I need Matteo’s war to finish so he can help me with mine,” Calix said, not showing the slightest bit of remorse as he shrugged off potential loss of life. He’d become a man watching me act ruthlessly in my father’s name, until the day came when I ended his tyranny and became ruthless because I wanted to be. Death was simply part of life.

  He’d worked and trained every day since his banishment, and when the time came, Calix would take back what was his.

  All of it.

  “They set a date?” Enzo asked.

  Calix nodded grimly, his nostrils flaring as he sipped the whiskey and set the glass down with a sharp thud.

  I nodded, glancing at Calix. “We have less time than we expected.”

  “Your father will still lend his support for both of our wars? What does he expect in return?” Enzo asked as he sat. I grinned at him, exchanging a knowing glance with Calix.

  “Matteo did not tell you? My father is dead. I am the Ibarra legacy now.” I dared him to ask the question that hovered at the forefront of his mind.

  “Was he…sick?” he asked as I studied him.

  “Did Matteo ever tell you the story of how my mother died?” I asked instead of answering. I strolled around the office and eyed the names on the wall where Enzo coordinated his security team. “My father belonged in the Spanish Inquisition. He was, for lack of a better word, insane with his beliefs. His marriage to my mother was arranged, but he hated her because he thought her light eyes and heterochromia traits of her ‘witchcraft.’” I scoffed. “So naturally, he had her burned at the stake once she stopped being useful, and he determined her to be barren when she never gave him another child after me.”

  “Christ,” Enzo muttered, scrubbing a palm over his face. I’d seen and done plenty of evil in my life, but nothing would ever top watching my mother burn alive.

  “I was seven at the time. I never forgot the sounds of her screams. I sleep much better now that my dreams are filled with his instead.” Calix chuckled at my words, tipping his lips up comically in a move that was quite unlike my usually somber companion.

  To be fair, he’d done his fair share of drinking on the plane after we departed Spain. The whiskey in his hand only exacerbated the situation, and I watched as he gave Enzo jazz fingers, his mouth making a whooshing sound to indicate I’d burned my father alive.

  An eye for an eye.

  “How many men have you brought?” Enzo asked, changing the conversation as he moved around the desk to study the names alongside me. He spun suddenly to glare at the doorway when a man appeared in it, his lungs heaving with exertion, gripping the liquor cabinet harshly.

  “She’s gone,” the man gasped. Enzo’s body stilled suddenly, his face turning white while his eyes narrowed with rage.

  “What the fuck do you mean she’s gone? You were supposed to be watching her!” he yelled, getting in the other man’s face. The man wisely swallowed nervously, and
I wondered just how far Enzo’s anger would take him in retaliation for whoever he’d lost.

  “I swear, I must have looked away for a few seconds. I’ve looked everywhere, Enzo. She’s not here.”

  “Is Rebel here?” Enzo asked, looking around the man in the doorway frantically. When he stared back at him blankly, Enzo barked, “The dog!”

  “No. The dog is gone too,” he admitted, backing away slowly.

  “Who is missing?” I asked, glancing back and forth between the men. My fingers twitched at my sides, eager to taste the violence that vibrated through the air. Monsters sensed blood on the horizon, and I was one of the worst nightmares I knew.

  “My woman,” Enzo answered. “Murphy targeted her, so she’s been under Bellandi protection. It would be safe to say she’s not happy about it.” He shoved the man out of the way, making for the stairs. “I’ll deal with you later,” he warned as he shouldered past. “Call Matteo!” he yelled as Calix and I followed him out of the office.

  “Call Matteo and tell him I’ve gone with Enzo,” I ordered, leaving Calix at the club and striding after Enzo as he made his way for the front doors. The cold air assaulted my face as we barreled through them and into the freezing wind, heading for an SUV parked at the front of the lot. He didn’t bat an eye when I climbed into the passenger seat alongside him, too focused on finding his woman before someone else did.

  Santiago hurtled himself into the backseat just before Enzo hit the gas and pulled out of the lot.

  Judging by the fury on his face, his woman would be lucky if he didn’t tan her ass for what she’d done.

  Enzo pulled into the parking lot at a boxing gym, shoving his door open and racing inside without care for what I might do in the meantime. I watched him fling open the front doors in his desperation to find her as I slowly climbed out of the SUV to look around.

  My gaze came to a halt across the road, my entire world narrowing down to the sight of the woman who walked down the sidewalk with her friend on the other side.

  As pretty as she was, there was nothing about her that should have demanded my attention. Nothing that should have captivated me so much that I froze solidly in place and studied her, but something did all the same. She couldn’t have been over eighteen, fresh faced and smiling up at her much taller friend with the innocent smile of a child who’d lived a guarded and safe life. My eyes never left her, even as I sensed Enzo approaching; only his firm touch on my shoulder drawing me out of my stunned stare for just a moment before she captivated me once more when she turned toward us.

  Her deep chocolate hair shone with notes of cherry undertones in the faint sunlight that emerged from behind the clouds, seeming to settle on her alone. Her skin was a bronzed olive, contrasting her sage eyes so vividly as she stared at me from across the street.

  The coloring of the bottom corner of her left eye was different somehow, darker than the rest, though it was impossible to get a good look from so far away. I held her gaze without shame as she studied me, squinting to see me past the sun glare that must have interfered with her vision. It didn’t seem to stop her from sensing the predator lurking across the road, from wondering what kind of monster lurked in the shadows and watched a young girl he couldn’t touch.

  I’d never touch a child.

  It wasn’t desire that settled over me so much as an instinctive knowledge that one day, when she was older, she’d be a force to be reckoned with.

  One day, when she was older, she’d be mine.

  3

  Isa

  "What the fuck, Mom! She was out just as late as I was!" Odina yelled downstairs. Groaning, I dropped my forehead against the window and waited for Chloe's beat up old Toyota to show up in front of the house. I'd run out barefoot if it meant I didn't have to deal with Odina's crap for once.

  Just once, it would be nice to go out and forget I had a twin sister who drove me up the wall.

  "Language!" Mom snapped, and I could just imagine the finger she waved in Odina's face. My sister was a far braver woman than me for daring to swear at her in the first place. "We both know Isabel only went to that party to get your drunk ass home safe. You are grounded. That's the end of it."

  "That's so fucking stupid. I'm sixteen! All my friends go to parties without their parents breathing down their necks. It's part of being a teenager!" Odina argued back.

  "Your sister has made it through her teen years just fine so far without making poor decisions," Mom said, and I winced, knowing just how unhelpful the words were when speaking to Odina. There'd been a time when we were close, when the thought of not having her as my best friend felt like an agony that would tear me in two.

  But something had changed between us as children. As she spiraled into her pit of rebellion and destructive behavior, I'd done everything I could to protect her and mitigate the damage she caused. Which of course only made her hate me more.

  "Of course! The fucking golden girl can do no wrong. Selfless, perfect Isa," Odina snarled, her footsteps thudding through the house as she made her way into the backyard. She'd climb up into the treehouse we'd called our haven as children, look for the cigarettes she kept stashed there, then rage at me when she discovered I'd taken them again.

  I watched through the window as she hurried up the ladder, her mouth running a mile a minute as she cursed Mom and me to Hell and back for the control we tried to exert over her life. I didn't understand why she couldn't comprehend that it came from a place of love.

  All I wanted was the best for her, and I wouldn't watch her throw her life away for something that might not even matter to her in a few more years.

  "Your sister has a devil inside her," my grandmother said, scaring the bejesus out of me when she popped up in my bedroom behind me. For an eighty-year-old woman, she had the uncanny ability to sneak up on anyone and everyone. "I don't know what she expected. Hanging around graveyards as much as she does."

  "Nohkomach." Grandmother. I sighed, pressing a hand to my chest over my racing heart. "You don't even believe in the devil," I scolded, grabbing my purse off the desk in the room I shared with Odina.

  Grandmother scoffed, turning her face to the window behind me to watch Odina throw the crates she usually sat on around in the treehouse. "That girl just might make me."

  Unable to stop the chuckle that rose in my throat, my chest shook with it. If Odina hated Mother and me, she was downright terrified of our grandmother, and rightfully so. The woman was a menace. One stern look from her and I felt my soul quake in fear. "Are you going to the Center?" she asked, referring to the Menominee Community Center where I spent most of my free time. Grandmother was a staple there, teaching what she knew of our language to my generation, and my parents' before mine.

  "Not today," I said with a small smile. "I'm going to lunch with Chloe."

  "Ah," she said, her smile brittle. It wasn't quite disappointed, not when she knew I spent far more time at the Center than any teenage girl would normally. "You'll be back tomorrow?" Our heritage was the most important thing to my grandmother: the continuation of our legacy, something that disappeared bit by bit with every day that passed. "You're my only hope, Isa," she said.

  I stepped toward her, reaching up to touch a hand to her cheek. "I could never forget who I am and where we come from, Nohkomach," I murmured, glancing back at the window when Chloe honked her horn from the driveway. "I'll see you in a couple of hours," I said with a smile, and I made my way for the door.

  My grandmother's eyes felt heavy on my back as I left, but I refused to turn and look back at her. Her stare was ominous. If I'd learned anything in my life, it was that nothing good came from the omens in my grandmother's eyes.

  I'd decided long ago that I didn't want to know when something bad came for me. A death I didn't see coming would be the ultimate mercy.

  I'd never have to know true fear again.

  Chloe parked her car in the lot down the road after hunting for a parking space for nearly twenty minutes. Sometimes, Chicag
o traffic made me grateful that I didn't have a car of my own. Anywhere I couldn't get by walking, I had Mom or Chloe drive me, so it just seemed easier.

  Not to mention less expensive, and since I worked a part-time job as it was and barely had any money to spare? I felt nothing but grateful for the missing expense. Shoving open the passenger side door to a squeak of protest, I climbed out of the car and pulled my thin canvas jacket tight over my chest to cover the bulky cream cable-knit sweater I wore underneath. Even the combination of the two didn't replace the warmth of a true winter coat, but Odina had borrowed mine the week before.

  By borrowed, I meant set it on fire in her last tantrum.

  "You need a new jacket," Chloe said with a frown, slamming her driver's side door and jabbing the button on the remote to lock the finicky thing.

  "You need a new car," I said, sticking my tongue out at her when she glared in response.

  "The difference is one costs $100, the other costs thousands, Isa. It's okay to spend your money on yourself sometimes, you know? It doesn't always need to go to helping your parents with your grandmother's medical bills," she said, her voice softening at the end. "They'll make it work. They always do."

  "It's just a coat." I shrugged. "I'm used to the cold, and I have plenty of warm sweaters." Even as the words left my mouth, I took off down the sidewalk at a determined pace, ready to hide inside the warmth of the restaurant. The icy wind whipped through the fibers of the sweater, my jeans not doing anything to protect my legs from the bitter cold that settled in my bones and turned my skin red within moments.

  Why did I live somewhere that the air hurt my face?

  It probably had something to do with my grandmother's ancestral connections to the land Chicago had been built on. So many Native American Nations had once called the land home, and while many had left the city in favor of reservations or more rural skies, there were still a vast number of us living within the city. Modernizing and paving our own way forward.