Breathless & Bloodstained (The Chicago War #4)

by Bethany-Kris

  “Actually, we won’t. Ever.”

  With that, Abriella left the detectives behind her. She couldn’t get down the hallway quick enough. Just around the corner where she knew the detectives couldn’t see her, she stopped to take a breath.

  Her heart wouldn’t slow.

  She was sick all over.

  Darryl walked out of the men’s bathroom two doors down. The idiot wiped his hands on his dark wash jeans as he noticed Abriella.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be in class?”

  “Um …”

  “Um,” Darryl mocked. “Not an answer. What are you doing?”

  “I want to go home,” Abriella said quickly. “I don’t feel well.”

  “You haven’t even been here more than a couple of hours.”

  “So?”

  Darryl scowled. “Whatever, let’s go.”

  “Abriella?”

  “Sorry, Dad,” Abriella called as she streaked past the kitchen. “I’ll be right in to make some dinner for you.”

  “Hey, wait a second.”

  “I just want to grab something from Mom’s room. Okay?”

  Peter made a sad sound. “Okay, Ella.”

  Abriella ignored her rush of guilt at lying to her father. When she arrived home, Joel was there with a dozen of his men. She couldn’t run the risk of calling Tommas from one of their wing’s phones, so she used the excuse that she wanted to go check on Peter.

  Joel didn’t question her.

  Once Abriella was in a safe spot in her father’s wing, she hid in a spare room, closed the door, and grabbed the phone off the bedside table. Dialing Tommas’ cell, the call rang and rang until his answering machine picked up.

  Frustrated, Abriella hung up and then dialed again.

  Breathless, Tommas picked up the second time. “Yeah, hello?”

  “Tommy, it’s me. We’ve got a problem.”

  Tommas groaned. Abriella swore she heard something hit a wall with a dull thud. “Ella, baby … I don’t want to hear those words right now. I need to have no problems for a while. None, okay?”

  “Sorry, but this is important.”

  “What happened?”

  “Where are you?” she asked instead.

  “Our place. I thought it might help or something. I don’t know.”

  “Help with what?”

  “My crazy ass, that’s what. It’s not important. Talk to me.”

  “The cops came to my school today. Detectives, I guess. I think they said their names were Crawn or Crain … something.”

  “Crown?” Tommas asked, a dangerous edge to his tone.

  Abriella flinched. “Yeah. Why?”

  “Was the other one Delog?”

  “Yes.”

  Now, Abriella felt worse than ever.

  “Tell me everything,” Tommas demanded.

  Abriella quickly recapped the events for her lover, keeping an eye on the door all the while. She was sure her father would keep quiet if he caught her, but she didn’t want to put her father in that position, either.

  “Remember when I texted you about my phone and book?” Abriella asked at the end.

  Tommas made a disgruntled noise. “No.”

  “Tommy, come on. I messaged you not thirty minutes after you dropped me off. I left my phone and—”

  “Your book in the car. Yeah, I noticed them after I dropped my mother off at her meeting. They were shoved under the seat a little. I planned on getting them to you sometime this week if I could manage it. But I didn’t get any messages from you, Ella.”

  “Yes, you did. I used a friend’s phone. You messaged me back a couple of times. The point is that the detectives knew about the phone and book in your car. They knew it was there and that I’d forgotten it. How do they know that?”

  Silence answered Abriella back a second before something crashed on Tommas’ end of the call. She jumped at the sound, but kept her squeak of surprise muffled by her hand.

  “Tommy?”

  “That fucking bitch,” Tommas growled.

  “What?”

  “Just … just wait a second.”

  Abriella did as he said. She couldn’t hear his soft breathing, but she did hear the click of keys. A minute later, Tommas was back on the line.

  “I think the person you were messaging with was my mother,” Tommas muttered. “I found the messages. They were deleted from the main unknown contact, but not the log. I stopped to grab a pack of smokes from the store for her after I picked her up.”

  “Oh.”

  “I left my bag in the car. Nate stepped out for a smoke while I went into the store. I think it was her, Ella.”

  “The detectives …”

  “I’ll handle it, baby.”

  What did this all mean?

  Abriella wished she could calm down enough and think.

  “I’m sorry, Tommy.”

  “God, for what?”

  Abriella didn’t know.

  “Be careful, okay,” she said.

  “Always. And stay away from those fucking pigs.”

  “I will.”

  No matter what.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “You good?” Damian asked.

  Tommas nodded, but his lie was as clear as day. “Yeah.”

  “I can do it, Tommy.”

  “You’ve done enough. This is my mess.”

  Damian slapped a hand down on the hood of the car and pushed away. “If you say so. After everything that woman put me through, it’s not like this would keep me up at night. It wouldn’t be a problem, that’s all I’m saying.”

  “I know, but I need to do it.”

  “All right, man. Call me later, let me know it’s done.”

  Tommas agreed to Damian’s request, and then watched his cousin stroll down the quiet Melrose street. It was late enough that most of the houses on the block were shrouded in darkness. The people within were likely sleeping, their bodies prepping for another day of life.

  Strangely, Tommas didn’t feel sad about the fact that he was going to end one of those people’s lives tonight. He was angry over the information he’d learned, disbelieving in a way that his mother would do such a thing, but he mostly, he was resigned.

  Another duty.

  The Outfit always won.

  Turning the Jaguar off, Tommas slipped out of his car and tightened his coat. The cold wind nipped at his exposed skin, promising another cold morning was yet to come. He’d be glad when the summer months rolled around and stayed for a while.

  Tommas checked the street, taking note of every vehicle parked in driveways and on the side of the road. Having grown up on the street, he could name which vehicle belonged to whom. It let him know that no one had followed him and no one was watching his mother’s house.

  The cop detail that had been situated across the street after Tommas had killed his father was long gone. Tommas had made sure that little to no business and visitors from the Outfit side of things came to his mother’s place. He wanted the attention gone as quickly as possible.

  Thankfully, it went without much trouble.

  Crossing the street, Tommas tugged on a pair of black leather driving gloves. He pulled out a pair of house keys from his pocket, knowing his mother hadn’t changed the locks in years. The alcoholism shared by his parents had made them forget the most basic things in life. Alcoholism turned them into desperate creatures who would do anything if they thought it would save their own asses.

  Tommas was ashamed that his blood had come from them. He was embarrassed that he shared their last name. Above all else, Tommas wanted something to be proud of again.

  Anything.

  Correcting his mother’s wrongs would be a step forward. One step. What he couldn’t understand, was why his mother had turned rat. It didn’t make sense. Serena had always been a vocal woman against others who turned to the officials for protection, or for a way out of the Outfit. Nothing Tommas came up with explained away his mother’s actions.

  Slid
ing the key into the lock of his childhood home, Tommas unlocked the deadbolt, and pushed the front door open. The quietness of the house came as no surprise, and neither did the darkness of the place. If it weren’t for Tommas paying the light, phone, and heating bills every month, his mother would live in the squalor of her own alcohol and vomit.

  What had the police used to get his mother to turn rat?

  What did they have on her?

  The woman did nothing but drink!

  Refusing to let the anger overtake his emotions, Tommas pushed those questions aside, wiped his shoes off on the rug, and went in search of his mother. The familiar stale smell of the home was diluted slightly, but only because Tommas had hired a twice-weekly maid to go in and clean the place. The girl reported back to Tommas that Serena rarely, if ever, noticed she was there doing her job.

  Nonetheless, the faint smell of old alcohol and cigarette smoke still lingered in every hall Tommas walked down and in each room he checked. So did his memories.

  Bruised with abuse.

  Blackened with neglect.

  Healed, but still sore, with scars.

  He could see still see his red-headed, quiet sisters playing under the stairwell with their matching dolls and their dirty dresses. They had barely made a sound growing up for fear that being too loud would earn them something painful. He could still remember walking down the stairs for his high school graduation and giving his cousin and sister a ride to the auditorium because his parents were passed out on the couch.

  Empty cupboards.

  Filthy floors.

  Forgotten children.

  That was the home that addiction raised.

  Tommas ignored the nagging ache in his chest as he continued his search for his mother. The living room was empty, devoid of life but for the flicker of a rerun television series playing on the flat screen. Upstairs, the master bedroom was just as quiet and dead.

  Finally, Tommas found his mother in the upstairs bathroom at the very end of the hall. Serena rested, naked and seemingly asleep, in a bathtub full of cold, murky water. A nearly emptied bottle of cheap vodka rested on the ledge beside a pack of cigarettes, a lighter, and a woman’s shaver.

  Leaning in the doorway, Tommas focused on the shaver instead of his mother’s naked form. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen her without clothes on, given her moral standards were low as shit when she was drunk, but it still bothered him all the same. The pink shaver looked like someone had attempted to pry it open. Speckles of a rusty brown littered the item, while deeper red droplets had splattered on the edge of the tub and the floor.

  Serena’s hand, draped over the edge and hanging out of the tub, explained the blood. Tiny cuts marred the tips of her fingers.

  For a second, Tommas almost wished his mother had succeeded in getting the blade out and finishing the job. It might have made this godforsaken night a little easier on him if she had been able to get it done.

  “Ma,” Tommas said loudly.

  The volume of his voice echoed off the dingy tiled walls. There was no way on earth his mother hadn’t heard it.

  Serena’s glassy gaze flew wide as her arms flailed, and she shrieked. The pale tone of her skin and bluish tint around her lips said that she had been in the cold water for quite a while. Instantly, Serena’s teeth began to chatter when she found her son leaning in the doorway.

  “Tommas,” Serena mumbled drowsily. “What are you doing here?”

  “I come here more often than you’re aware, Ma.”

  “Funny, I never see you.”

  “Maybe if you popped your head out of the bottle every once in a while—”

  “Hey, watch your fucking tone,” Serena barked, more awake than before.

  Tommas recognized the fire in his mother’s eyes, but he wouldn’t back down. He wasn’t a child, now. She didn’t frighten him. His little sisters no longer needed his protection.

  “When did you get in the tub, Ma?” Tommas asked.

  Serena blinked around at her surroundings. “Before the four o’clock news.”

  “It’s three in the morning. What else did you take other than the vodka?”

  “None of your business, Tommas. Get the hell out and let me get dressed.”

  “No,” Tommas said quietly. “There was a bottle of pain meds in the living room. The cap was off. Is that what you took?”

  Serena scowled. “So what if it was?”

  “Just getting my ducks in a row, Ma.”

  “I don’t understand what you mean.”

  “You don’t need to yet.” Tommas nodded at the bloody razor. “That’s what, failed attempt number seven since I was fourteen or so?”

  Serena’s stare dropped to the razor. “Tommas—”

  “Lucky for you that Dad was around to save you. Seems like lately, I’ve been picking up where he left off in that regard. What was the problem tonight? Did your hands shake too much? Did the meds make you too weak to get the blade out? What was it?”

  “You wouldn’t even care if I had slit my wrists and drowned in my own blood, Tommas. You’ve never cared! You don’t understand what it’s like for me, Tommas, and I tried for years to be better. But all you did was push me away and make it worse! I hate you.”

  Manipulation.

  Tommas could recognize that shit anywhere. It was Serena’s specialty. She was damned good at it.

  “You know, that worked better when I was a child and your words had some ring of truth, Ma. Now that I’m older, I’ve heard your spiels one too many times. It’s like water off my back. It doesn’t even make me wet anymore.”

  Serena struggled to get out of the tub, spewing more vile words at the same time. “You fucking little asshole, I’ll—”

  “Sit down.” Tommas pulled the gun out that he’d tucked into a holster at his back. He clicked the safety off and rested the gun against his side, watching his mother’s eyes widen with shock and her brow furrow. “Shut up, and let this be easy. For fuck’s sake, Ma, for once, let something between us be easy.”

  “You wouldn’t …”

  Tommas laughed sadly. “Wouldn’t I?”

  “I’m sorry,” Serena rushed to say. “I didn’t mean what I said. You surprised me and—”

  “And the more you say, the less I care. Whatever you have to do, you’ll do it, right? Anything to save your ass, you will make it happen. It won’t matter who you hurt in the process as long as you get what you want from it, Ma. What did they promise you? What did they have on you?”

  Serena stared up at Tommas, water filling her gaze and her hands shaking against the ledge of the tub. “What?”

  “The detectives, Ma. The detectives. The fucking pigs. Who else? What did they have on you? Did they offer to get you in with the FBI as an informant if you could feed them enough info on us all? What was it that was so bad you couldn’t come to me? Instead, you played their little agent, going through my fucking cars, my house, and reporting back on whatever they needed or asked for. Why, Ma?”

  Tommas’ last two words were shouted so loudly that Serena flinched back into the water. The sight of her fear did nothing for him. Her trembling and her tears made him deader than ever and numb from the inside out.

  He despised this woman.

  He hated her very breath.

  “The detectives went to Ella,” Tommas continued quieter.

  “I didn’t, Tommy.”

  “Liar. They fucking put Ella in a corner, thinking it was going to make me jump through hoops for them. They knew about her, and that I’ve been fucking around with her for years. They had information that no one else would have known, like my second apartment and the note Ella left in my goddamn house. They asked her about the textbook left in my car. She called me the second she could. And that’s when I knew, Ma. You always were nosy, but I figured you weren’t paying enough attention to put it all together. Shame on me, right? You really fucking fooled me.

  “Those bastards have been hounding me for years, but they messed u
p going after her,” Tommas finished darkly.

  Serena gaped. “I …”

  “I don’t want your useless fucking excuses. I just want to know why, Ma. You almost ruined everything for me. Had I not figured it out, had they not mentioned the textbook and phone in my car, I wouldn’t even have looked at you twice for this. Tell me why!”

  “Because you took Laurent.”

  The statement had been hissed so quietly that Tommas strained to hear his mother’s confession. Her glare burned with the fire and hatred of a woman who felt nothing for the son she carried and birthed. Her fists clenched on the side of the tub, and her face crumpled in her grief and anger.

  “Because you took him from me, Tommas!” Serena cried. “So I took something from you!”

  Tommas took the second he needed to let the shock of his mother’s admission soak in. He hadn’t realized how much his mother depended and loved his father until Laurent wasn’t there anymore. He wasn’t the least bit surprised that she knew it had been her own son who killed her husband. The whispers were out there in the Outfit—people simply had to listen hard enough to hear them.

  “I hate you,” Serena mumbled. “I hated you from the very second I knew I was pregnant for you. I hated your sisters, I hated this fucking house, and I hated that stupid man. And then when you were all gone, I was alone.”

  “You hate yourself far more,” Tommas replied coldly. “We were just byproducts of your hate, Ma. Stop blaming us. We tried. You failed.”

  Serena laughed bitterly, splashing water up the wall. “What are you going to do now, Tommas? Are you going to kill me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hurry up then.”

  Tommas pushed off the wall and grabbed the razor from the tub. He popped the blade from the plastic cartridge and tossed it into the bathtub. It sunk under the water with a plop.

  “We’ll call it assisted suicide,” Tommas murmured. “I’ll let you cut your final marks, Ma. You can do it, or I can. One way or the other, I will not leave this house with your heart still beating.”

  Serena’s gaze flew between her son and the tiny piece of sharp metal resting at the bottom of the tub. “I … I …”

  “Pick it up. Hell, I’ll go get you a few more pills if you want to take the edge off.”