Saving Her: A Dark Mafia Duet

by Eden Summers

  But I’d give anything to see them.

  Anything.

  “Are you sure I won’t be seen?” I release my belt. “How will this work?”

  “I’ll go in before you. Then you can follow when the coast is clear.”

  He’s out of the car and opening my door before I can move. He leads me through the parking lot, my breath frosting the air.

  The night is still. Behind us there’s nothing but silence while up ahead is street noise and the sound of people laughing and chatting.

  I pause. “Maybe we should go back to the car.”

  “I won’t let them see you.”

  I sneak a glimpse over my shoulder, the hair at the back of my neck standing on end. The silver sedan is waiting in the shadows on the side street. The darkened face of the man sitting inside stares straight at me.

  “He’s keeping an eye on anybody that approaches. And he’s not the only one.”

  I nod, only slightly appeased, and continue after him, one slow step after another until Luca is reaching for the back door, pulling it open with a squeak to poke his head inside.

  He blocks my view of the interior for pained heartbeats before he sidesteps and allows me entry into a bustling stainless-steel kitchen.

  “Come on.” He holds out a hand and drags me inside.

  The new noises are overwhelming. The sizzle of hot plates. The clink of saucepans. There are barked orders from a man wearing a chef’s uniform as he scans the four workers situated at different cooking stations.

  None of them pay us attention as Luca leads me across the room, this time stopping at a swinging door with a circular peephole.

  “Here.” He peers through the opening. “They’re over the far right of the room. Talking to your brother.”

  My insides squeeze.

  Heart. Chest. Stomach.

  I can’t move.

  After years of trying to forget the love and support of my parents due to the weakness it brought, I struggle to take the final step.

  “Pen?” Luca tugs on my hand. “Come on.”

  I stare into those eyes, the noise increasing, my pulse deafening.

  He lessens the panic. There’s the strong hold of his hand, the unfaltering focus, the confident tilt of his chin. Everything about him makes me want to be bold.

  I can do this.

  After everything I’ve been through, I can do this one simple thing.

  I inch forward, stealing my hand from his to place my palms against the door for grounding. At first, the view is the same as outside. People are everywhere, the faces unrecognizable.

  Then I spy Sebastian in his suit with Keira wearing a floral flowing dress and cream jacket nestled close at his side.

  I hold my breath as my gaze drifts over the people in front of him. The shorter height. The greying hair.

  My eyes blaze as I stare at the back of my parents’ heads.

  That’s all there is through the crowd. Their familiar hairstyles. The recognizable frames.

  But it’s them.

  My heart.

  My home.

  Overwhelming gratitude consumes me. I stare at them for a lifetime, the noise disappearing, the outside world evaporating.

  “You’re smiling.” There’s pride in Luca’s voice. “Really smiling.”

  I sniff through my tingling nose. “It may only be the back of their heads, but I’m currently seeing the most beautiful picture right now.”

  “Yeah.” He pauses. “Me, too.”

  The emotions intensify and I tremble with thanks as I turn my attention to Luca, ensnared in his pride-filled eyes.

  “Go on.” He jerks his chin at the peephole. “Keep lookin’. I’m going to steal something to eat and stop distracting you.” He winks and walks away, aiming for the kitchen staff preparing hors d’oeuvres.

  “Thank you.” It takes a moment for me to drag my gaze back to the party. I watch. Listen. Pretend I’m part of the festivities.

  I let the laughter from the people inside the restaurant sink into me, the happiness, the calm, and attempt to read Sebastian’s lips as he continues to talk to our parents.

  I don’t move as waitstaff walk in and out of the kitchen, the whoosh of the door beside me bringing clearer insight to nearby conversations. I hear names and punchlines. Drink orders and compliments.

  Then horror.

  Every ounce of my joy evaporates when a male voice asks, “Hey, Dodge, how have you been?”

  That’s all it takes. One question. One name.

  Dodge.

  Ice enters my veins. My breathing labors.

  I can’t see who the speaker is. I can’t even determine who they’re talking to, but that name brings crystal clarity.

  My memory hadn’t triggered this morning when I wrote that list, but it does now.

  Dodge was a man who supplied Luther with information. A spy of sorts. A traitor to Cole.

  I inch back from my peephole and try to get my memories to cycle while attempting to hear the respondent at the same time.

  I fail at both.

  I remember thinking Dodge was a snake. A slimy, manipulative piece of shit, but I can’t pinpoint specific references, only the repeated farewells Luther often spoke.

  Keep digging for me, Dodge.

  Don’t let me down, Dodge.

  “What’s going on?” Luca comes up behind me, hovering close. “Did they see you?”

  I shake my head, still trying to tear pieces of information from a brain that refuses to release them. I need proof. It took too long for me to be believed about Robert.

  “Pen?” Luca grabs my shoulders and turns me to face him. “Talk to me.”

  I try to find answers in his eyes. Still, nothing comes. There are only repeated farewells and snide compliments.

  You’re invaluable, Dodge.

  Luther rarely gave out compliments. Not to his sons, or his right-hand men. It was only to those he manipulated to further his goals. Only to pawns caught in his web.

  And now one of those conniving puppets is in the same room as my parents. Within threatening distance of those I love.

  “I recognize a name from someone in there.” I watch Luca’s expression, searching for support. “A name of someone who previously conspired against Cole.”

  Luca stands taller, shooting a glance out the peephole before returning his attention to me.

  He transforms before my eyes. From calm and in control to a strung-tight, laser-focused soldier in a heartbeat.

  “Tell me the name,” he demands.

  29

  Luca

  “Dodge,” she whispers. “The person’s nickname is Dodge.”

  I hold myself in check, not reacting as my stomach bottoms. But she notices the freefall, her attention narrowing in concern.

  “This is bad, isn’t it?” she asks in a rush. “Do you think he’s here for me? Or my parents? Could he be working with Robert?”

  “No. It’s okay.” I rub her arms and paste on a fucking painful smile. “I’ve had my suspicions, that’s all. And I know how close he is to Torian.”

  How unbelievably, fucking close.

  Breaths escape her lips in panted panic. “What about my parents?”

  “They’ll be fine. Nobody is stupid enough to risk anything tonight. But I need you to do something for me, okay?” I guide her away from the door, my hand on the low of her back as I lead her to the storeroom. “Wait in here for a while. Just until I handle this.”

  She plants her feet, her frantic gaze searching my face. “Handle it? What does that mean?” She leans closer, whispering, “Are you going to kill someone? Please, Luca, I want to get my parents out of—”

  “They’re fine.” I open the storeroom, flick on the light, and place pressure on her back to encourage her inside. “I’m only asking for ten minutes. Don’t leave this room.”

  I don’t wait for a protest. I shut her inside, the sight of her fear-filled expression haunting me as I stalk for the dining room, past the sw
inging doors, and into the crowd of guests.

  I pass Torian’s relatives, friends, and trusted informants as my fury builds. I stalk by women whose husbands have worked with the crime family for years while a tick forms under my right eye. Then I stop before Dodge and look that motherfucker in the eye, knowing on instinct Penny is right about him. Knowing that whoever referenced his nickname tonight is one of the few old-school elders who stood by Luther’s side from the beginning of his crime-riddled reign, because they’re the only people who have ever called my brother by that name.

  The sight of him infuriates me. Fucking sickens me.

  I ignore the older man flanking his side, and grab the front of Benji’s shirt, bringing an abrupt halt to their conversation.

  “Outside,” I snarl. “Now.”

  His eyes flare wide. A flash of fear and guilt hits him before quickly being smothered under anger. “What the—”

  I yank his shirt, making him stumble, then release him to storm for the kitchen, not stopping until after I’ve shoved open the back door and jumped down the stairs to the loose asphalt.

  He’s slow to follow, descending to ground level with stiff hesitance. “Luca, whatever it is—”

  “Save it.” I launch my fist at his face, my knuckles colliding with bone.

  He jolts backward, stumbling, but I hold him on his feet with an unyielding grip around his throat. “You fucking snitch.” I keep my voice low, too fucking aware of the watchful eyes lurking in the shadows. I shove him, over and over until he’s up against the brick wall. “You were working with Luther.”

  He doesn’t fight me. Doesn’t even protest my grip as his face turns red. All he does is hold my gaze, wordlessly spewing guilt in my direction.

  “You fucking piece of shit.” I drag him forward and slam him back again. “You stupid, fucking piece of shit. How could you be so reckless?”

  “You weren’t here when Luther was around.”

  All the air leaves my lungs on a heave. Despite how things were adding up—even though evidence was mounting—I still hadn’t believed.

  Not entirely.

  Not until now.

  I release his throat and stumble backward.

  He’s dead.

  Benji is as good as buried. No trial. No second chances.

  “Jesus goddamn Christ.” I shove my hands into my hair, pulling at the strands to try to make the mania stop.

  “You’ve got no idea what it was like.” He straightens from the wall. “You wouldn’t understand.”

  I can’t deal. Can’t even fucking fathom his level of stupidity.

  Problem is, if I don’t take this to Torian, I’ll be dead alongside Benji. And if I rat out my own blood, the admission probably wouldn’t absolve me anyway.

  There’s no way out of the mess he’s created. There’s no possible way I can fix this shit.

  “Why?” My question is barely audible. “Why the fuck would you even…” I can’t finish the sentence through the bile thickening at the back of my throat. “How did this all start? You had to have known what he was doing. There’s no way you weren’t aware of those women.”

  His shoulders slump, and he throws his hands up at his sides. “He—”

  The back door to the restaurant opens, quickly dragging my attention to Layla whose mouth gapes at the sight of us.

  “What’s going on?” She slams the door shut and scrambles down the stairs.

  “Get out of here, Layla.” I glare at her. “This is a private matter.”

  “No,” she pleads. “It’s not. He’s my husband. This includes me, too.”

  I scoff. “You’ve got no idea—”

  “Yes, I do.” She rushes in front of Benji, acting like a shield to my rage. “I know exactly what this is about. Please, Luca. We’ve been waiting for the news to get out for years. We never thought our actions would cause this much trouble.”

  Our actions

  I’m blindsided. Again. Completely and utterly dumb-fucked.

  “It was my idea for Benji to tell you there was another woman,” she pleads. “I’d hoped it would stop you from digging further. We just needed a little more time. Once Robert was taken care of this all would’ve blown over.”

  “Blown over?” I seethe. “How the fuck do you think this would’ve blown over? Your husband was ratting on your brother.”

  “Layla,” Benji warns. “Let me deal with this.” He grabs her arms, attempting to drive her away. “Go back inside.”

  “I can’t.” Tears form in her eyes. “This is because of me. I started this.”

  “Layla,” Benji snaps. “Get back inside.”

  She reaches for me as she’s pushed to the side. “Luca, please let me explain.”

  My nostrils flare. My fucking head threatens to explode.

  I don’t want to hear from her.

  The only explanation I need will come from Benji. But that asshole isn’t as open to being a Chatty Cathy like his wife.

  “I was a horrible person when I first met your brother,” she says in a rush. “I was materialistic and petty. Like everyone in my family, I craved money, but I wanted some for myself. Some that was my own. Our own,” she clarifies.

  “I wanted to have financial security because Dad kept telling me Cole would never succeed in taking over the business, and the thought of being poor scared the hell out of me. I was the one who put pressure on Ben to do something about it. Something above and beyond the work he did for my brother.” She blinks those long lashes at me, her tears building. “When Dad offered to pay us to keep tabs on Cole, I didn’t think it would be a big deal. It was only a father wanting to be updated on his son. At least, that’s how it started.”

  “Layla,” Benji grates. “That’s enough.”

  “Shut the fuck up.” I clench my fist, preparing to silence him. “At least she has the balls to talk.”

  “Fuck you. I can talk fine on my own.” He tugs down his shirt, righting the crinkles as he speaks under his breath. “It was only meant to be brief updates on business dealings. I’d be financially compensated if I kept Luther in the loop. That’s all. We thought we were setting Stella up for the rest of her life in case things went south under Torian’s leadership. But before we knew it, the demands got bigger and the threats started. It went from being harmless information to phone taps and spy software.”

  Fuck. “Phone taps and spy software?”

  Layla hangs her head, but Benji lacks the same remorse. He holds my gaze, unblinking.

  “He was like a father to me,” he mutters. “A proper father. He saved me. Guided me. He gave me the chance to have a family, for once in my life. To have money and power and pride. I was a fucking man, no longer needing you and your white knight routine to save me from myself.”

  I scoff. “Well, there’s no fucking white knight to save you now, is there? Nothing can help you this time.”

  “You don’t need to.” Layla lunges forward, reaching for me, her fingers gripping my jacket as those eyes continue to beg. “Cole doesn’t need to know.”

  I huff out a laugh. “And I guess Penny doesn’t deserve to find out either? She doesn’t get to learn how Abi really died.”

  Neither one of them speak. Both remain silent while I compound their crimes.

  “That’s how your scheme got fucked up, right? Robert got involved? You gave him information,” I sneer at my brother, all vicious teeth and seething hatred. “Tell me you gave him insight on Penny. Tell me and I’ll end this now.”

  He doesn’t answer, and I don’t pause in my response. I nudge Layla out of the way with my shoulder and swing a fist, my knuckle pounding into Benji’s gut.

  He hunches, coughing, spitting.

  Layla wails, her ragged breaths pathetic when coupled with her corruption.

  I lean close to my brother’s ear as he clasps his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. “Tell me.”

  “Fuck you,” he chokes. “I didn’t tell him jack shit about her.”

&nb
sp; “You’re a liar.” I see red. I feel it. There’s only heat and rage and mindlessness as I raise my fist again.

  “Stop, Luca,” Layla cries. “Please. He didn’t give any information to Robert. It wasn’t him. I did it. I told Robert where they were.”

  My brother pauses his recovery, the shock on his raising face seeming genuine as he looks at his wife. “No, you didn’t.” He shakes his head. “You wouldn’t.”

  “I didn’t have a choice. He threatened to tell Cole everything. And you kept refusing to give him information. You thought you could handle it on your own. You were going to get yourself killed.”

  “She’s lying.” Benji looks at me. “She had no idea where I was. Nobody did. But it’s true about that fucker threatening us. He’s going to tell everyone. That’s why I was late yesterday. I was trying to find him and fix this myself.”

  I glance between them, having no clue which one is bluffing. “I swear to God, if I don’t get the full story, without contradictory bullshit, I’m going to lose my shit.”

  “I already told you.” Layla’s tear-soaked eyes plead with me. “I had Benji’s location on my phone. I always do.”

  “Like hell,” he spits. “I was using a burner.”

  “Yes, but you had your main cell with you. In your bag or the car. I don’t know where exactly, but it was with you, Benji. I’m not lying.” The first tear escapes as her lips tremble. “I did this. I’m responsible for that woman’s death. And for the attack yesterday. It’s my fault.”

  I stare at her. At the beautiful face that hid those sinister actions.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Benji collapses against the wall. “Why the fuck—”

  “Because you wouldn’t have given him what he wanted. You were more likely to come clean to Cole,” she sobs. “I had no choice. I did it to protect Stella.”

  “You did it to protect yourself,” I snap. “To protect your perfect fucking life in your perfect fucking house—”

  Benji straightens, shoving from the wall to pull Layla into his side. “What’s it matter? The damage is done now. We need to move on. We can bury this.”

  “Bury it?” My head fucking throbs. “And then what? Wait for Robert to come after Penny?”