X-394 (The Scarsi Family Series Book 1)

by Dee Garcia

  “Hi, baby,” she said softly, the corners of her mouth turning up in a smile.

  Thank you, God…

  I rushed over to her and all but collapsed onto the bed, swallowing her in a hug that didn’t conceal one bit of the torment I’d felt since receiving Nancy’s call.

  “You scared me, Mama,” I admitted, trying my damnedest to keep from breaking down. “I know it wasn't your fault, but I was terrified that this—”

  “Shhh, I know, I know. It’s okay though, I’m okay. Just a little scare, that’s all.”

  “Little isn’t quite enough of a word.”

  “But it’s enough. It could have been so much worse. We have to look at the positive and live in the moment, Xander, not dwell on a future we have no power to control.”

  Easing back, she met my stare with a weary expression, cupping my cheek in her hand as she always did. “Breathe. Look at me, I’m perfectly fine. I told you I wasn’t going anywhere right now and I meant every word. One day, though, Xander, the time will come, and you’ll have to let go. I’m not saying it will be easy, because Lord knows letting go of your father was the hardest thing I ever had to do, but I have faith you’ll make it through.”

  “Can we not talk about that right now?” I asked, swallowing down the emotionally charged lump in my throat. “I know we’ll have to eventually, but I just want to enjoy the time we do have without death obscuring it. You know, living in the moment and all.”

  “Fair enough.” She smirked.

  “There is one thing I want to know, though…”

  Mama hummed and reached for the hospital standard pink plastic pitcher on the table beside her, taking a sip from the straw while pinning me with her gaze.

  “What happened today?”

  “Well, Nancy came over for lunch as we’d planned over the weekend. I had a hankering for Chinese, so we ordered from that little joint a few blocks over.” She set the pitcher back in its rightful spot. “When we finally sat down to eat, I was already out of breath, but I assumed it was from me moving around to set the table and tip the young man who delivered our food. The more we ate though, the more out of breath I felt, and Nancy didn’t miss a beat. I’m assuming she probably told you the rest.”

  I nodded as I processed my mom’s concession, looking off to the window behind her where the sun had begun to set. It was baffling and troubling for sure, because setting the table for two and walking to the front door of the house should not have over-exerted her that much, if at all. I couldn’t understand how she’d managed to rearrange an entire kitchen and rotate the collectibles in the living room without incident, yet simple, everyday tasks landed her straight in the hospital.

  “She did,” I finally said. “Remind me to really thank her when she gets here.”

  “No.” Mama smiled knowingly. “Remind me to thank her when she gets here.”

  I scoffed a laugh through my nose. “Noted.”

  Knock, knock.

  Mama and I turned our heads to the door expecting to see the very woman we were speaking of, but instead a tiny brunette shuffled into the room with a bright smile on her face.

  “Mrs. Royce, I'm Jade, your nurse for the rest of the afternoon,” she said sweetly, while scribbling her name on the dry erase board, along with the date, the room number, the primary physician, and a few other details.

  Pivoting toward us, she capped the marker and set it back in its rightful spot, her whiskey-colored eyes instantly tangling with mine. She held my stare for a beat, then wandered south over my form in an unabashed and curious fashion. Her observation might’ve been done with purpose, but still she flushed ever so slightly as she made her way to the computer fairly close to Mama’s bed and dropped into the stool. I didn’t miss the way her hips swayed from side to side with every stride. Body language was everything and the message hers delivered was loud and clear.

  My eyes did an appreciative inspection of their own, tracing the dips and swells of her body slowly. Even in pale blue scrubs, I couldn’t deny the fact she looked good. Really good. There was an effortlessly natural air to her, not a stitch of makeup or artificial anything masking her beauty. She was my usual type too; dark hair, fair skin, light eyes, curvy. I must’ve been staring a little too hard because Mama’s famous pincer grip caught me by surprise, the sharp sting darting my eyes to where she sat just beside me.

  Shooing her hand away, I shielded myself from another possible pinch of death and mouthed an exaggerated ‘Ow!’ her way.

  “Manners, Xander,” she muttered under her breath, crossing her arms.

  “What was that, Mrs. Royce?” Jade asked, her fingers freezing on the keyboard.

  “Oh, nothing, just reminding my son of a valuable lesson.”

  Jade smiled and shook her head, casting me a quick glance before she rolled the stool to where I sat. “I'm so rude, my apologies. I’m Jade,” she said, extending her hand, to which I enveloped with my own.

  “Xander.”

  “Nice to meet you, Xander. Okay”—she rolled back to the computer—“so here's what I know so far. Dr. Gardner is on his way in. He wants to review your scans and discuss what they find, if anything at all. He also wants to keep you overnight just to be certain nothing spikes again.”

  “Overnight?” Mama questioned incredulously. “That’s ridiculous, I'm just fine.”

  Jade’s expression softened, her lips thinning together in empathy. “I know, Mrs. Royce, but it's better to be safe than sorry. Now that you've had some time to rest, let's take your blood pressure so I can update your charts. The more we update with consistent numbers, the more likely they'll be to discharge you first thing in the morning. How's that sound?”

  Mama nodded, but it was more than evident she wasn’t pleased about spending the night. Couldn’t say I blamed her. Hospital beds were uncomfortable and the food was so bland you’d think it was prepared for a baby.

  “Xander, honey, can you do me a favor?” she asked while Jade strapped the cuff around her arm.

  “Depends on what it is, Ma.” I leaned forward with a hand cupped around my mouth. “I don’t think there’s a way for me to break you out of this joint.”

  She chuckled and rolled her eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind. In the meantime, could you get me more water with lots of ice?”

  “You got it. I’ll be right back.”

  Snatching the pink pitcher off the table, I pressed a kiss to her cheek and brushed past Jade on my way out the door—her fault, not mine—peering down both ends of the hallway in search of the ice machine. The halls were a ghost town and so was the small room stocked with all the goodies not included with patients’ meals, making my little trip a three-minute ordeal. I was reaching for the handle of Mama’s room when the door flew open and out came a giggling Jade, Mama’s deep-bellied laughter resounding in the background. Had I not caught her by the waist, she would've careened right into me and drenched us both in ice cold water.

  “Easy there.” I chided her.

  Her hand fell to my arm and her gaze darted to mine, one corner of her mouth tilting up in what appeared to be a satisfied smirk.

  “I didn't see you there, I'm sorry,” she feigned obliviousness because c’mon, we all know damn well she saw me.

  “It’s all good, no damage done. I'm still in one piece, right?”

  “That you are,” she agreed. “Wanna know what isn’t one piece, though?”

  My brow quirked curiously by way of response.

  “My number. Call me if you’re interested in grabbing a bite,” she purred, pulling out a small piece of paper from her pocket and sliding it into my hand, her lips pecking my cheek softly.

  And with that, she slipped out from my grasp and sashayed down the hallway, leaving me with the most perfect view of what I imagined was a juicy little ass. Thoughts of peeling her out of those scrubs to find out just how juicy it could be instantly flooded my mind, all thanks to the eager little fucker twitching in my jeans. As good as she looked, though, did I
really want to go on a date? I wasn’t a dater, mostly because dating often led to relationships, and I didn't have time for that. Then again, she didn't say it was a date. Grabbing a bite, as she’d so casually put it, couldn't hurt if I kept the non-existent future clear, right?

  One month later…

  Xander Royce, mark number three-hundred ninety-four.

  Hell of a lot of people, I know. That’s roughly sixty-five per year, five or so per month, if we’re really getting into logistics. Sometimes the number shocked us all, especially Alessio. He’d been in the business for years before Daddy agreed to needing my help, and the only reason why Daddy needed my help in the first place was because Alessio didn’t play by anyone’s rules but his own. His body count wasn’t nearly as high as mine, but he and I worked very differently. Where he savored each mark in the most gruesome of ways, I took them out quickly and moved on to the next. The faster, the better.

  How in the world did I speak so casually of it all, as though I felt no remorse?

  Three words, my friend...because I didn’t.

  This is who I was, who I’d been raised to be. This was the only person I knew how to be, and I had no intention of revamping myself or finding an alternate lifestyle any time soon. Besides, it's not like making a change would save me anyway. My fate had long since been sealed and no amount of prayer or penance could cleanse my blackened soul. Redemption simply didn’t exist for people like me. I knew where I was going when I died. I had a first-class ticket and a front row seat. Was I afraid? No. Satan, however, would be mindful to cower behind his fiery throne upon my return home.

  Anyway, enough rambling about me and where I was undoubtedly going to spend eternity wasting away. Let’s get back to Mr. Royce.

  Single, thirty years old, with a failing business, and an ill mother, made him one of the most baffling marks I'd been given in a while. Daddy usually spared those like him one too many times, but the further I read down his file, the more I understood why he was a target. From what I could see, my father had made quite the deal with him. He'd removed the interest from Xander’s debt, dropping it down to half the sum he owed, and in turn, the new balance was to be returned within thirty days. Seeing as Mr. Royce had made it onto my list, I'm sure you've already discerned that the deadline was not met.

  Pity.

  Tsking between my teeth, I peered through the windshield of my car to where Royce’s Auto sat across the street. The place was an absolute ghost town and while the minimal landscaping near the main entrance appeared well-kept, the building itself looked like it was on its last leg. Might’ve made me a bitch for even thinking it, but it explained the lack of business. Who would want to bring their car to a busted shack like this when they could drive a few blocks over to Goodyear or Mavis?

  Only two of the four garage bays were open, revealing a young man who appeared to be cleaning up for the day. He was meticulous and seemed in no rush to be out of the shop anytime soon, carefully wiping down each tool and returning it to its designated spot in the large tool box. After organizing the work table and stacking random papers, he closed the bay doors from the outside and promptly jogged inside the shop.

  Shouldn’t be too much longer now, I thought to myself as I checked the time and sifted through the rest of Mr. Royce’s file. Sure enough, a few minutes later, the lights inside the small building began flickering off one by one and the kid emerged once more, only this time he was accompanied by the man who I presumed to be my mark. I wouldn’t be certain, though, until he turned around and I got a clear view of his face. For all I knew, he’d used the money Daddy loaned him to keep these guys on payroll. Regardless of who they were, they worked together quickly to secure the premises and then with a friendly yet professional goodbye, my potential mark sent the young man on his way. The only car in the lot, a beat-up ‘94 Honda Civic, slowly pulled out of Royce’s onto the road where my car faced head-on, and soon disappeared from sight into the early evening.

  My attention was promptly returned to the shop when the familiar rumble of a bike erupted from somewhere nearby. A fond smile stretched my lips at the thought of my Suzuki parked in the garage back home. It’d been awhile since I’d taken her out for a joy ride, and I missed it. But I missed Gio more, and riding through the city was kinda our thing. It would feel almost wrong to take her out without him by my side. For a while, I contemplated selling her due to Gio’s future looking so grim, but according to his doctors, he was slowly making the necessary improvements to live a normal life again.

  One could only hope, right?

  As I sent a silent prayer to whatever higher power might hear my plea, Mr. Potential, Xander Royce, rolled out from the side of the building on a blacked out Gixxer 1000. My mouth almost popped open in shock. It was an identical replica of my own. Whether this man was Xander or not, I couldn’t deny he had good taste or that the sight of him on that bike was quite easy on the eyes. Such a shame he might’ve been another imbecile who mistook my father’s kindness for weakness. Such a shame I probably had to kill him…

  Shaking my head, I tossed the file into the passenger seat and mentally prepared myself for the mission ahead. The rules of tailing were clear, simple, and they didn't require a lot of common sense. Remain inconspicuous, don’t pursue too closely, and don’t lose your target. I was waiting until he took off down the road to fire up the GranTurismo and follow, but he didn’t even make it past the sidewalk. Instead he threw down the kickstand, shut the bike off, and pulled off his helmet, followed by a cell phone from the pocket of his leather jacket.

  He’s taking a call? Really?

  Yes, it appeared as though he was, and the impatient side of me was not amused, especially when the minutes ticked by unhurriedly throughout the course of his conversation. Standing there with the phone to his ear and the bike nestled between his legs, I observed him carefully. From the little I could see, I was almost positive it was him, but almost wasn’t going to cut it. I had to be one-hundred percent sure because tailing the wrong target would be not only a waste of time, but also a rookie error I’d never hear the end of. Straining my vision against the bright rays of the sunset, I focused on him from my spot across the street, mentally begging him to lift his head. Silly, I know, ’cause he wasn't a fucking mind reader, yet still I found myself repeating the simple mantra over and over again.

  Look up, please look up.

  And, like some black magic, he did.

  Ending his call, he shoved the phone back into his pocket and lifted his head, peering down both sides of the emptied street. That's the moment I really saw him, and I was certain the gasp that left my mouth could've been heard at the compound. My eyes darted to the file I’d thrown beside me and with shaky hands, I flipped it open, glancing between the photo pinned at the top and the man revving up the bike. There was no mistaking it was him. His photo didn’t do him justice in the slightest, and like every cliché possible, Xander Royce was tall, dark, and stunningly handsome. I stared and stared and stared, completely wonderstruck by how attractive he was, until he pulled the helmet over his head once more and promptly took off like a rocket down the street, completely catching me off guard.

  Fumbling with my keys, I jammed them into the ignition and peeled out of the empty lot in the direction Mr. Royce had taken, throwing Rule Number One out the window as though it never existed at all. Focus, the dark and not so little voice in my head reminded me. Inhaling a deep, cleansing breath, I let up on the gas to avoid following too closely behind while keeping at a steady pace that ensured I wouldn’t lose him either. Whatever Xander’s reasons were for not paying Daddy back were far beyond me, but as I trailed the path he led, breathing heavily as though I'd run a marathon, I had the most nagging feeling that he wouldn't be an easy mark to put down. Just the sight of him had sparked something I couldn’t put into words. It was uncomfortable; no, it was disturbing and every bit unusual to say the very least…

  Apparently, Mr. Royce wasn't any different from the rest of t
he eligible bachelors in New York City, which quite frankly took me aback. Given his financial situation, I assumed he was the type of man to stay home on a Friday night, maybe have some friends over and split the cost of a pizza and a few beers.

  Oh, how wrong I was.

  When he'd pulled the Gixxer into the driveway of his mid-century modern ranch, I parallel parked in front of the house across the street and threw myself back into the seat, hoping I could formulate a plan within the next several minutes. I’d tried and royally failed to do so on the drive over. My focus had gone to absolute shit, the image of his fine face seared in my memory, taunting me with the utter sexiness of that strong stubble-dusted jaw and that jet-black hair. Even from my vantage point I’d noticed it; noticed his broad shoulders, his muscular arms, the way his waist tapered off beneath his leather jacket, his long legs too. Carnal desires ripped through me with force, overshadowing the ability to concentrate on the task at hand, and suddenly everything felt secondary to being near him.

  “Ugh.” I pinched the bridge of my nose as a dozen inappropriate thoughts flashed through my mind.

  What the hell is wrong with me?

  Xander Royce, obviously, but I refused to believe that could possibly be true. I mean, could you blame me? It just didn’t seem logical that a man I hadn’t met could affect me so significantly. There had to be something else to this...to this bizarre feeling. Maybe lack of sleep? Or perhaps I was overworked? Hungry?

  Ding!

  The chirp of my cell phone instantly broke through my internal struggle, dragging my eyes down to the illuminated screen nestled inside the cup holder. They all but rolled out of their sockets.