On The Ropes: Tapped Out Book 3

by Quinn, Cari

  “That you have. You will make a formidable soldier for the Andrettis, and we are eager to bring you aboard in a larger capacity than you’re in now. You will be accorded everything you deserve. All of the money and women you can ever imagine. And if you choose to partake…” Marco mimed doing a line, and the other two associates chuckled and kicked back with cigars.

  “Ah, but I’m not so sure the women part interests him. It seems as if he has one already. A special lady,” Lorenzo said with a twinkle in those dead eyes.

  But it was fake, as everything else about this meeting was fake.

  “Me?” I laughed and hooked an arm around the back of the circular booth. “You know I never dip into the same pool more than a few times. I like to sample the water at all the different beaches way too much.”

  “You know, we used to think that, because you certainly seemed to enjoy the, shall we say, perks of your position. But that was before recently, wasn’t it? And I have to say, we’re pleased to have been matchmakers of a sort.” Marco gestured to one of the associates, who lifted an attaché case and removed a folder. Even before he opened it, I knew what it would contain.

  Yet I still wasn’t prepared to see Carly’s face upturned to mine, with that stupid stuffed dog in her arms. The dog still in my living room because she’d forgotten to take it and I wouldn’t throw it out.

  Stupid all the way around that I’d even taken her to that carnival. I’d known we could be followed at any time, for exactly this reason. Everything was leverage, and she was mine. I would do anything for her, still, and somehow they knew it.

  She was the weakness that would bring me down.

  “So?” I shrugged. “She’s a hot little piece. You saw that yourself, did you not?” The smirk I flashed made my chest hurt. I hated them with every breath, but even more because they gave me no choice but to denigrate Carly. “Pretty sure you were watching.”

  Everyone laughed, as expected. Because it was all a big fucking joke to take advantage of a young, beautiful girl whose biggest crime was naively stepping into the lion’s den.

  “That we were, amico mio. I saw how much you liked her. We all did.” Marco’s lascivious grin set my teeth on edge. “We’ve also seen you parading her through the club, guarding her like a steak from a pack of drooling dogs. And I don’t blame you. That gattina, she is sweet. I would love a taste myself.”

  I didn’t blink, didn’t so much as take a breath. But inside, I seethed.

  “You see, our women become like family. We all share in their care. But there is a problem with this one, as lovely as she is.” Marco pressed the blunt tip of his thumb over Carly’s face, captured in black and white. The photos were always black and white for some reason. “Her sister is a problem. So she is a problem.” He lifted his gaze to mine. “If she’s yours, she becomes our problem.”

  Tumblers clicked like locks sliding into place in my mind. The conclusions I’d drawn that day in Mia and Fox’s office were obviously right. Carly hadn’t been idly selected that night. They were still angling to pay back Mia for her disrespect, and they would use Carly in a heartbeat.

  “She’s not mine.” Saying it was like dragging razor blades over my throat. I could feel myself bleeding internally, the thick liquid clogging my airway. “She’s never been mine. She’s a piece of pussy. That’s all.”

  “Good. We’re happy to hear you say that. Because women, gumba, they can be a distraction. Especially troublesome ones like this, who are so eager to spread their legs.” Marco nodded to the associate again, and out came another photo.

  This one was of Carly with a guy in a sandwich shop that I happened to know had just opened last week. They were leaning toward each other across the booth, their heads tipped close. His hand was on her arm, his fingers curled around her wrist. She was smiling at him the way she’d smiled at me.

  He certainly qualified as clean-cut. I couldn’t see a tattoo on him, and he could’ve appeared on a poster advertising the merits of the Boy Scouts. If I’d had any question that he was the guy she’d dated before, the socially acceptable one, the bright green Salad Hut shirt he wore proved it.

  Didn’t take you long to move on, now did it? Or go back to where you started.

  I shrugged again. The pain inside me didn’t have borders and couldn’t be defined. It filled me so entirely that it was a miracle I could still speak. “She’s free to do as she wishes.”

  “As are you. We will make sure you’re not alone for long.” Marco leaned forward and smiled, friend to friend. Or that was the image he wanted to portray. “You do this for us, and you’re in. No more loyalty tests. No more questions.” He exchanged a look with Lorenzo and chuckled. “Not for a good long while.”

  “Tell me what you want me to do,” I said woodenly, and for once, I wasn’t thinking of Emilia or revenge.

  I was thinking of red-gold curls, and guileless eyes that had torn me apart.

  “Well, now, this is a hard subject. It’s always difficult when a friend harms us. We treasure loyalty. Value it above all else. Which is what makes it so upsetting when one of our own takes advantage of our loyalty and twists it. Don’t you agree, Giovanni?”

  Some part of me understood the conversation had ventured into a dangerous, boggy place. The rest of me was envisioning that sandwich shop.

  Had she let him touch her, only hours after I had? Had she called out his name like she’d called mine? Ripped welts in his skin, like the ones I still had on my arms and back?

  I couldn’t blame her. I’d driven the knife into what we had when she asked me those questions, and the guilt behind the answer I’d given her didn’t matter. We were finished. But between dealing with Marco and Lorenzo and those photos, I was on the verge of upending the motherfucking table and saying to hell with all of it.

  Emilia was dead. Our child was dead.

  Your turn.

  “Yes. Loyalty is all that matters.” My response was by rote.

  Though right now, it sure as hell sounded like truth. Carly’s loyalty to me hadn’t lasted long. If it had lasted at all. For all I knew, she’d still been sleeping with that guy while she was with me. I hadn’t demanded for her to be faithful, just agreed when she’d requested we only be with each other. Maybe she’d made that request for only her own benefit. Even if I had demanded faithfulness, such a demand was worth less than the breath it required.

  What did you expect? You lied to her from day one. Yet she was supposed to pledge undying commitment to you?

  No. She just wasn’t supposed to divert my focus, fracture my concentration when my very life depended on it. She wasn’t supposed to matter as much as the need for revenge that had ruled me for over two years.

  More. Fucking more.

  “Z took advantage of our trust, and siphoned resources that were not his. He’s taken money, and now, just last week, we heard that he’s trying to cultivate his own organization, using some of our people. You can imagine how painful it is when your belief in someone has been slaughtered.”

  I said nothing. My beliefs hadn’t been slaughtered, mainly because I hadn’t had any for years. I’d been living on borrowed time. Merely existing. Just waiting for the day that was almost here.

  The closer I got, the more hollow that goal became. Emilia was dead. Nothing I did could bring her or our child back. But I still pursued that end game, because there was nothing else.

  “It’s unfortunate we need to take this step, but we feel you’re the right man to accomplish this for us. You can do this for us, Giovanni.” The smile Lorenzo flashed bordered on genuine, but never quite made the circuit.

  I waited.

  “Next Friday night, Z will be at your fight.”

  Only then did the name Z sink in. Holy fuck, they were talking about snuffing out Z? Because that had to be where this was leading. There was no displeasure followed by a rap on the knuckles with these people. When they became displeased, people died.

  “After it, once you’ve won, we want you
to take advantage of the crowd and the distraction to take care of the problem. We don’t care how you do it, only that it isn’t traced back to us. If you have fighter friends who’d like a handy target for their frustrations, that would work as well.” Marco glanced at his watch. Clearly, he wanted to move this along. “The messier the better. We don’t want this to look like a hit. He’s been involved in enough unsavory activities that it’s entirely plausible he’d get his face smashed in.” Marco smiled. “I trust that’s up your alley?”

  I nodded. Sure, why not? Might as well take the trip to complete thug without any redeemable qualities whatsoever. And if Roberto came to the fight as had been rumored, then it would all be worth it.

  That was what I’d been telling myself all this time. No matter what I went through, it would all be worth it.

  “Buono.” Marco rose and held out a hand. “Always a pleasure, Giovanni.”

  Rising, I shook with Marco and tipped my head at Lorenzo. I didn’t spare a glance at the other two assfucks who’d delighted in doing recon.

  I didn’t speak to anyone on my way out. I drove straight to The Cage and headed right for the treadmill. I’d warm up with a several mile run, then I’d hit the machines. Hard. I wouldn’t stop until my muscles burned and my mind was empty.

  If it took all night, so be it. Not like I had any other plans.

  During mile three, someone hopped on the machine beside me. With my headphones blasting Jay-Z, I was barely aware of them.

  Until Fox got off his machine, slapped a hand on my controls, and brought my treadmill to a standstill.

  “What the fuck?” I growled.

  “Hey there.” Fox gave me a wide smile that immediately put me on guard. “I kept trying to talk to you. Thought you were ignoring me.”

  “No, I was in the zone. Operative word being was.” I tapped the buttons to start my run all over again. Fucker.

  “You’ll get it back.” Shrugging, he climbed back on his treadmill and set off at an easy jog. I was about to pull my headphones back on when he spoke again. “So, what’s new with you lately? Haven’t seen you around much.”

  I started running again, fast enough that I hoped he’d get the hint. Of course a two-by-four to the head wasn’t a hint to Fox. “I’ve been training. As you should be, you pale-bellied pussy.”

  He just laughed. “Guess you must need a lot of it, if it requires that much concentration.”

  “Yeah, well, when I crack your head open again, I don’t want to hear your girl crying.”

  It was a low blow, but I wasn’t in the mood to talk. Especially not to him. He reminded me too much of Carly, and I just could not go there. Not again.

  “I’ll take that risk,” he said cheerfully, picking up his pace without skipping a breath. He wasn’t showy about it, but he was in damn good shape. In fact, I’d say he was probably the best athlete out of those who trained at The Cage.

  Excluding me.

  “So I haven’t seen you for dinner lately.”

  “Kind of a conflict of interest, dontcha think? Since we’re going to be tearing each other apart next week and all.”

  Truth was, I hadn’t been able to break bread with him when I was banging the hell out of Carly and lying about it to people I considered friends.

  Maybe I was the pale-bellied pussy.

  “Not to me. I don’t have a problem with it, why should you?”

  I made a noise in my throat and sped up. Maybe he’d give up if it was obvious I couldn’t carry on a conversation.

  “Gotta be frank, brother, a guy’s gotta wonder if there’s another reason you haven’t been coming around. Like, oh, I don’t know. Maybe you’re having a problem with Mia?”

  I sent him a look out of the corner of my eye. “If this is about that Vanity bullshit I heard about, I don’t know where she got the idea I touched your girl. Certainly not from me.”

  “Nah. She’s taken care of. Somehow Emerson got her to promise to leave Mia alone or else she’d land her butt in jail. I’m not sure how he got it to stick, but she’s gone back to Mark’s Gym with her tail between her legs.”

  “So now she’s their problem?” Didn’t really sound like the best way of solving the issue to me, but since I’d had a hand in that situation too, however unintentionally, I wasn’t going to voice my opinion.

  I had enough shit to deal with.

  “Long as she’s not ours. Dude, she was incensed over you. What’s up with that?”

  “Looking for tips?”

  “Nah. I tend to stay out of the cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs lane if I can help it.”

  I didn’t laugh, but it was a close thing.

  “So, hmm, if you don’t have a problem with Mia, and you’re cool with me, that only leaves…” He snapped his fingers as if he’d just been hit by a lightning bolt. “Carly. But you couldn’t be having an issue with her, could you?”

  I didn’t like the way he stressed the word issue, not one bit. Fox could go fishing in another hole, because this snapper wasn’t biting.

  “No.”

  “You know, funny thing about Carly. She’s been gone an awful lot just recently. She’s always had an active social life, like I mentioned to you some weeks back, but lately, it’s been on hyperdrive. She rarely seems to sleep in the apartment two nights in a row.”

  He barely panted between sentences, though he was running at a damn good clip. I wished he wasn’t quite so physically fit, because maybe then he’d choke and shut the hell up.

  “Maybe that’s because you make her sleep on the floor.”

  “Oh, you know that, do you? How’d you hear about that?” His genial tone made me want to punch him. In the face.

  “The night I bandaged her finger,” I responded, as if it made all the sense in the world. It was a damn good save. I just wasn’t sure if it was good enough.

  Fox was about as affable and unassuming as a copperhead snake.

  “Huh. Interesting. See, I figured she’s been getting closer to her salad shop guy. But I don’t think that’s it. I have this odd feeling it’s not him she’s been cozied up with. Wonder who else it could be?”

  For a moment, panic flared in my gut that Marco and his fuckers had sent pictures to Fox just to screw with him. Then I realized they wouldn’t bother. Their hits, if they came, would be much more direct than anonymous photos.

  “Is there a reason you’re telling me all this, or did you just forget to take out your tampon this morning?” I was winded, though I wasn’t altogether sure if it was from the run or from Fox’s nearness to the truth.

  “I thought we were buddies. Friends don’t lie to each other. And they also don’t judge, regardless of all the evidence.”

  I didn’t say a goddamn word.

  “Sometimes what it looks like on the surface is only half the picture. And I gotta think that if Carly believes…that guy is worthwhile enough to spend time with, there has to be damn good reason.”

  My hands clenched on the handrails as I sped up, but I couldn’t run fast enough not to hear him. I couldn’t shut his voice out of my head.

  “She’s a smart chick, and she knows her own mind. And I’ll support whomever she finds worthy of her.” Fox paused, and I shut my eyes. “No matter who that is.”

  When I opened them again, Fox was gone.

  Twenty-One

  The family meeting didn’t happen that night. Fox realized I needed some space to wrap my mind around things, though he explained if I didn’t tell Mia within a few days, he’d have to, on account of his not wanting to couch it for the rest of his life.

  I had to respect his honesty.

  Friday afternoon, one week before the fight and three days since my life had crashed down on my head, I found my sister at the building she’d just purchased, since her offer had been accepted in record time. She was wandering around with a tape measure and making notes, completely occupied by her task.

  Seeing her immersed in something she loved made me tear up, unless that was due to th
e fact that I was hauling around a mini future Italian grandmother in my belly.

  Either/or.

  “Hey.” I lingered in the doorway with my hands shoved in the back pockets of my jeans. “Am I interrupting?”

  I kind of hoped she said yes and sent me away. Okay, no kind of about it. I really didn’t want to have this conversation.

  I’d suggested to Fox we just let her see me get bigger. Eventually, she’d figure it out, right? Or else she’d tell me to knock off the brownies at three a.m.

  “No, not interrupting at all. Come in here and help me plan.”

  I tried not to drag my feet as I headed deeper into the room, but I wasn’t at all sure I managed it. A broom and dustpan stood in the corner.

  “You’ve been cleaning already. It’s not even officially yours yet, is it?”

  “All that’s left is paperwork.” She waved it off. “The seller wants to offload the property. They don’t care if I install a stripper pole in here.”

  All the blood in my face drained.

  “What’re you measuring for?” I asked quickly.

  “Couches and loveseats. I want to put them all over. I need to see how many I can get in here.”

  “You’re really planning on running through that money with the quickness, aren’t you?” I couldn’t stifle the pride in my voice.

  My sister had struggled financially for years, and when she came into money, the first thing she was doing was trying to give back to others. If only I could ever be one tenth as selfless.

  “Nah, I have plenty left. I only put down a chunk on the property. I got a loan on the rest.” She crouched to place a strip of masking tape, probably blocking off space for one of the couches. “Kinda weird how they’ll give you loans when you already have the money, yet when you’re poor, forget it. But the important thing is—”

  “Ame, I’m pregnant.”

  She stopped moving across the floor. Stopped moving entirely. Then she let out a loud laugh. “Wow, you almost had me there. I almost believed you.”

  I blinked away the grittiness in my eyes and crossed the room to her. Taking those steps was the hardest thing I’d ever done. I knelt at her side and stared at the tape on the dusty floor. Here she was making her dreams come true, and I was about to crush one of them.