by Soraya Naomi
He doesn’t seem to regret his action as he glowers at me, shouldering past me into the entryway.
Pivoting around, I follow close behind him, demanding, “And give me my key.”
He flings the keychain onto the floor and yanks open the door, disappearing down the hallway. I slam it shut and turn the lock, spinning around and leaning against the door as Strawberry runs up to me. Bending low, I pick her up and loosen my jaw while I grab my purse, stunned that Keano had the audacity to hit me. The guilt I felt for being with Henry reduces to next to nothing.
Heading to my bedroom, I set Strawberry down on the floor and catch my reflection in the full-length mirror hanging on the wall just as my phone alerts me of a call. A reddish bruise is already forming on my cheekbone.
“Shit!” I mutter as I hurry to my bed and zip open my purse to get my cell, seeing Henry flash across the screen.
He’s going to want to meet up, and I really want to see him too, but he would make this into an even bigger issue than it is or, worse, inform my brothers, and I definitely don’t want them to get involved. If any of the Syndicate men find out, they’ll probably murder Keano, and I’m not angry enough to wish that upon anyone. Besides, I handled him myself. Although I hate not being able to be with Henry, because I know damn well he can be easily distracted by other women, I need to avoid him right now.
“Hey,” I answer, attempting to sound uplifting but failing miserably.
“Hey. Have you spoken to Keano yet?”
“Yes. He just left, but I’m really tired. Can we talk tomorrow?”
He probes, “Did you end it?”
“Yes.”
He’s silent, as if he senses I’m not being honest yet eventually responds, “Okay.” There’s another pause before he adds, “Do you feel all right?”
“Yeah. I’m not high anymore. I’m crawling into bed now.”
“Okay. Night, Mary,” he speaks in a gentle voice I’m starting to love – a voice he doesn’t use with others.
Don’t read anything into it, Mary. Guard your heart.
“Night, Henry.” I end the call, toppling backward onto the baby blue duvet and falling asleep from fatigue.
***
My eyes pop open and I’m wide awake, instantly thinking of last night with Henry and smiling, despite the fact that I have a bad case of cotton mouth and my head feels heavy. Stumbling to the bathroom, I remove the dress I fell asleep in and step into the shower, turning on the faucet and tilting my face up to let the hot stream of water cleanse me. When I get out, I feel better yet cranky – probably a side effect of the heroin.
“Urgh, never doing that again,” I vow out loud, looking into the mirror as I put on some makeup to hide the purplish bruise on my cheek. It’s very light and doesn’t hurt, and I manage to cover it up pretty well with foundation.
Then I see marks on my neck from where Henry kissed me. Biting my lip, I grin so widely it’s ridiculous, and it sends butterflies going wild in my stomach. Without even having texted or talked to him, he’s made sure that he’s on my mind the first thing this morning. Though I don’t know if that was his intention.
When I check my texts from last night, there’s one from Adriano letting me know I left my coat at the club and he put it behind the bar. With everything that happened, I didn’t even realize it was missing. So after I walk Strawberry at the park across the street, I drop her off at my apartment and take a cab to Club 7.
***
When I enter the empty club, I move toward the waitress, Jordana, who’s wiping the bar counter clean.
“Hey, Adriano stashed my jacket here.”
“Oh, yeah.” She dips down and comes up with my red trench coat. “Here it is.”
“Thanks.” I take it from her and follow her line of sight when the door opens behind me and Henry and Carmine saunter in.
Carmine’s on his phone, pausing just inside the entrance and continuing his conversation with his back to us while Henry, dressed much too enticingly, approaches me with a wolfish grin. My gaze travels up his tailored black slacks to his white dress shirt that’s topped with a striped black and white tie and a silver-grey vest that matches his vivid eyes. As usual, his sleeves are folded up to his elbows, exposing the leather braided band on one wrist and a chrome watch on the other.
Jordana speaks first, “Hey, Henry.”
“Hey,” he says without shifting his stare from me, kindling emotions that melt my insides with a simple look.
“Henry,” the waitress tries again, and now she’s starting to annoy me.
Sense the mood, woman, and leave.
Fortunately, he merely responds, “I just need a word with Mary. Can you give us a sec?”
To which she slinks away.
Has something happened between these two?
Henry’s eyes suddenly narrow. “Why are you wearing so much makeup?”
“What?” I say, and he steps closer, stopping right in front of me so that I have to look up.
His thumb nudges my chin up more. “You never wear this much.”
He’s noticed that? With those words, he steals another piece of my heart.
A slow smile starts to form on his face until the mood shifts, and as it turns into a frown, he says, “You didn’t do that for me, did you?”
Now it’s my turn to smirk. “You’re very arrogant. No, I didn’t do it for you. I didn’t even know you’d be here.”
He shrugs and compliments, being outrageously flirty with me, “Well, just so you know, I find you most sexy without all that makeup.”
“Thank you.” I inch closer until I can almost kiss him, his cologne wafting around me before, out of the blue, Henry abruptly rears back and cups my chin. When I wince, he releases me but swipes my cheek with his thumb, and I grimace when he presses over the bruise.
“What is that?” The pad of his thumb caresses the marking, gentler now. Then I see a muscle ticking in his jaw as he demands to know, “Is that a fucking bruise?”
I jerk my head away from his touch, but he grips my shoulders, not allowing me to turn from him.
“No—”
“Don’t lie to me,” he warns, scaring me a little with his icy stare and making me hesitant to tell the truth.
“Mary,” he prompts in a low tone while his face flames with rage.
CHAPTER 10
Henry
“Mary,” I repeat, unable to control the perfect storm brewing inside me.
“Yes, it’s a bruise. Keano and I argued,” she confesses, confirming my suspicion. “But I handled it, okay?”
My hands fall away from her shoulders as I examine her. “What exactly did you handle? Did that motherfucker hit you?” Each word is delivered with a sharp inflection.
She palms her forehead, but I grasp her wrist to pull her arm down.
Mary assesses me for far longer than makes me comfortable before muttering, “Yes. He was at my apartment and assumed I’d been with you.”
I harden my jaw. “And?”
She pulls her wrist free from my hold. “When I told him it was over, he slapped me once. But nothing else happened and I’m okay.”
Her last words aren’t registering as I spin around so fast that she jumps in front of me, planting her palms against my chest with surprising force for such a petite woman. I stop when I almost mow over her in all my anger and steady her by the arm.
“No, Henry! What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to fucking kill him!” I roar, seeing red and releasing her.
Carmine’s beside us in an instant, glancing at Mary first and then at me, lifting a brow in question.
“She dumped Keano and that asshole slapped her,” I explain, gesturing to the purplish marking on her cheek, and Carmine’s lips thin.
“Keano hit you?” Carmine tilts her face up.
“Yes,” she sighs. “But there’s no need for you guys to get involved. It’s not like I was completely innocent,” she tells me with a pointed look, referri
ng to our liaison last night.
“Are you fucking kidding me?!” I bark. “That doesn’t make it okay for him to hit you.”
“I know. That’s not what I meant.” She throws up her hands in exasperation as I dart around her.
I should’ve trusted my instincts when I felt something was different in her voice last night. The tight leash I keep on my emotions snaps, yet again, when it comes to Mary, and I want to throttle Keano for hurting her. This is how much she’s starting to affect me.
Carmine trails me as I hear Mary grumble, “Oh, my god. Men!”
As we’re charging out, Logan enters the club, so I order, without looking back, “Stay with Logan, Mary.”
“Do you have any idea where Keano lives?” Carmine asks.
I shake my head, taking my phone from my pocket. “You drive. I know his last name; I’ll find it within a couple of minutes.”
We jump into Carmine’s BMW that’s parked in front of the club, and with screeching tires, he pulls onto the street, just as livid as I am. Only, for completely different reasons.
***
In a small and simple residential building in the West Loop, I bang my fist against Keano’s door twice. When no one answers, I thump once more before the door screeches open slightly, and I smash my palms against the surface and throw it open with all my weight, pushing Keano – who’s wearing only his boxer briefs – back inside.
Carmine rushes past me, grabbing Keano’s hair and yanking his head up to backhand him.
“W-what the hell?” he stammers, trying to jerk free as I quietly close the door.
“Shut the fuck up! You think you can touch my sister and get away with it?” Carmine threatens, his height menacing. He resembles his brother a lot in his uncontained fury, and once a Montesi is mad, you’d better run.
Carmine drags him into the studio living room that’s filled with clutter, the faded floor creaking when he drops Keano at his feet.
Who the hell is this guy? He lives like a pauper, but then again, he is still a student.
In my frenzy to get out the door of the club, I forgot my Smith & Wesson, but Carmine grabs his from his waistband and tosses it to me as he stoops low and hooks his arms under Keano’s, hauling him to stand up straight.
“Henry,” Keano spits, breathing heavily. “You slept—”
I punch him in the face before he can finish the sentence and he grunts in pain, loosening his jaw and struggling against Carmine.
“That’s for hitting Mary, motherfucker,” I grind out.
“She was mine!” he screams, and a crease forms between Carmine’s brows as he starts to put two and two together.
I sink my fingers into Keano’s throat, and with my other hand, I dig the barrel of my gun into his forehead, snarling, “You’re fucking wrong. She’s never been yours.”
Blood trickles down his chin, yet he smirks smugly.
Carmine states, “Maybe we should finish him off?”
“I’m willing to die,” Keano pipes in.
I tilt my head to the side and smile. “I’m not willing to kill you. I’m going to make your life a living hell.”
And I swing my fist into his stomach, making him double over and fall to the floor as Carmine lets go of him. Hunching down, I grip his hair, pulling his head back, and slam the butt of the gun into his nose, hearing the bones break while he howls in agony and blood gushes out.
Carmine watches me, allowing me to vent before he unbuttons his suit jacket and squats next to me, grabbing Keano’s chin forcefully. “We’re going to leave you on the edge of death, and for a long time to come, you’ll have to look over your shoulder. I’m going to ruin your life, boy, and you’ll pay in ways your mind can’t even conjure.”
To drive our point home, I plant another fist into his cheek, causing his head to fly to the side.
“S-stop. Please...” he protests, but Carmine snatches his gun from me and hits his other cheek with the butt of it.
Then I rise and kick Keano’s stomach again and again, every blow carrying the heavy weight of my anger. I judge and condemn him for hitting a woman who means something to me, something I don’t even understand yet.
“Henry!”
In a maddened daze, I abruptly register Mary’s voice.
“Henry. No!” she all but howls.
I hear her; however, I continue to beat him to a pulp until Mary unexpectedly jumps in front of me, shielding herself as I take aim to kick again.
“Henry! Stop it. Come back to me. He isn’t worth it.” The softest hands bracket my cheeks over the hairs on my unshaven jaw, and a subtle whiff of argan oil brings me back, breaking through my fog.
I freeze as she cradles my face, and I wipe the layer of sweat from my upper lip, glaring at a bloodied Keano sobbing on the floor with Carmine and Logan standing across from me.
Mary strokes my jaw, demanding my attention. “I was a little in the wrong too. He and I both made a mess of our relationship.” Then she adds, whisper-soft, “I also feel a bit guilty about what happened with us, you know.”
“I don’t care about that.”
“Yes, you do,” she counters, astonishing me with how well she’s gotten to know me. “Please.”
Logan coughs uncomfortably, and Carmine simply waves his gun back and forth between us. “Can someone fill me in on what’s going on here?”
Mary turns around and surprises me by saying to her brother, “There’s nothing going on. Henry and I are just good friends, but Keano assumed otherwise.”
Carmine’s expression is stoic, his stare moving from me to Mary before he stashes his weapon in his jacket. “We need to go. A soldier will take care of him and keep him incarcerated at the warehouse.”
“Starve him,” I command, my mood still savage.
“Oh, we will,” Carmine confirms before vowing to Keano, “This isn’t over, Keano. I knew you weren’t good enough for my sister. We’re going to slowly kill you.”
Then he signals for us to leave. And as he and Logan go first, I start to grab Mary’s hand but decide against it. Instead, I hold out my arm, indicating for her to precede me. As she passes me, she squeezes my hand and looks at me in a way that soothes my savage beast.
While I’m confused by my uncontrolled outburst at Keano, I can tell that my way of thinking and acting has changed. In the past, I mostly worked with computer systems, where I could consider a course of action before taking it. But since joining this Syndicate, I’ve been forced to deal directly with people more often, without time to think, and nowadays, I also deal with them as a fully-pledged member, so just like Adriano and Carmine, my nature is to murder problems without a second thought. Something that’s never an option if you’re a regular civilian. Well, if you’re a normal civilian. I’ve changed with the reality of this ruthless world. Justice is only served when you take it, and Keano hurt my Mary, so he needs to pay. Remorse is an emotion I don’t fucking feel anymore. I use physical violence to get what I want, and I don’t care one bit if it makes me a bad person.
***
We return to Club 7 where, thank fuck, Carmine is called away on business and Logan grants me privacy with Mary after shooting me a warning look to be careful with her.
“I thought I told you to stay here,” I chide her, not able to refrain. She awakens strong feelings of longing inside me, feelings that could cause me to be reckless and stupid, and we’ve already betrayed there’s much more between us than meets the eye to Logan and Carmine, which will result in consequences for me.
She holds my gaze steadily. “That’s what you want to talk about?”
Silence, thick and heavy, greets that remark, so she spins in the other direction, but I fold my fingers around her wrist.
“You don’t get to walk away now,” I tell her.
Employees are milling around as they ready the place for tonight, and with Carmine and Logan gone, I clutch Mary’s hand and tug her with me out to my vehicle that’s parked at the back entrance.
“Where are we going?” she asks once she sinks down into the passenger seat of my sedan and I shift the car into drive.
“The beach.” I exit the parking lot, letting out a reassuring breath when she reaches sideways to stroke my nape.
***
By the time we arrive at Oak Street Beach, it’s early afternoon, and since summer’s coming to an end, it’s less busy. I find a secluded spot, plowing both hands through my hair while my mind races with these sensations Mary stirs awake in me as we watch the waves washing onto the shore and stopping right in front of our feet before ebbing away.
Eventually, she begins, “Thank you for standing up for me like that. But why were you so angry?”
“What?” I ask with a frown.
“Why were you so angry? You seemed much more upset than someone who simply doesn’t like to see a man hit a woman should be,” she expands upon her question, studying me as if she can see through the wall I put up to keep women at bay.
Mary’s more perceptive than I’ve given her credit for, and her big hazel eyes pierce right into my goddamn soul. “Do you realize that you ask me a lot of why questions?”
“I do.” Her mouth twitches as she keeps observing me, but without judgment, so I’m helpless to deny her answers.
“I won’t allow anyone to hurt you,” I admit, and Mary’s full lips tip up in a gorgeous rendition of a smile.
“I’m honored you defended me, but he doesn’t deserve to die over me.”
I grunt, since I don’t agree, as the wind picks up.
Chuckling, she comments, “You fit right in with my family of overbearing and pazzo men.”
“Just as crazy as you, apparently,” I reply.
“Me? You think I’m crazy?”
I nod, turning to face her. “Among other things, you’re crazy fucking beautiful.”
I can tell I’ve flustered her a bit with that statement, but she continues with the banter, “Well, maybe my craziness could balance out yours?”
“That’s a possibility. But my guess is that all that crazy would turn into something a little wilder than what either of us is prepared for,” I return with innuendo.
