I reach out and touch the hands clasped over his chest. It’s like touching cold wood. I recoil immediately, and shame fills my chest.
The letter I wrote trembles in my hands, but I slip it inside, careful not to touch any more of him. All the things I never said often enough: I love you, Daddy. I’m sorry for being a brat sometimes. I didn’t mean to break that vase. I told you I didn’t want to go fishing, but I did. I only said it because Mom told me that girls shouldn’t do boyish things like that. I’m sorry.
A hysterical scream distracts me. Grandma, nearly 80 years old, screams in a language I can’t understand as she stands nearby. It scares me. Everyone cries after me when I run past the coffin and sprint towards the open doorway, out of that wretched place.
I tense upon waking up, my mind still filled with the funeral. I want to shove it out of my mind immediately. My palm spreads over the warm sheets, but Vince’s body is absent.
Footsteps clip over the hardwood floors and a scream catches in my throat.
Christ, it’s only him.
Vince walks into the bedroom, dressed into a charcoal grey suit. His hair looks damp, like he just took a shower. A smile spreads over his face as I drop the sheet from my body and get up out of bed.
“Maddon, I’ll never get used to this,” he says in a low hiss as I walk towards him, completely naked.
He’s all I’ve got.
I grab his tie as his arm curls around my waist. I pull his bemused face towards mine and kiss him softly, pulling back when he tries to deepen it. My hands move along his torso, around his hips to the bulge between his legs. I squeeze him.
He smirks and pulls back. “Bad girl. Trying to distract me when I need to leave. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re trying to do.”
“You’re right, I’m trying to stop you. That doesn’t mean I don’t want you.”
“Ah, Fuck.” His eyes blaze as he takes my head and kisses me long and hard. “I don’t deserve you.” Dark eyes flick to the door. “I still got to go, though.”
But it’s so dangerous for him to be out there. I don’t understand, and I know he won’t explain.
“Please be safe.”
“I will.” He kisses my cheek and gives me a smoldering look before he leaves the bedroom. I hear the front door open and close.
I get dressed slowly because there’s really nothing to do. I putz around for the rest of the day, watching TV, lounging on the couch.
My phone rings and I grab it absentmindedly, hoping that it’s Maria.
It’s not.
“Adriana!”
My mother’s frantic voice blasts through the tiny speaker. Jesus. What does she want now?
“Mom—what?”
“You need to get here right away. It’s an emergency.”
Bored, I change channels on the television. “You’ve done this before.”
“Adriana, I’m not fucking kidding! I need you to come, now!”
I sit up straighter on the couch. She definitely sounds distressed.
“What’s wrong?”
“I can’t tell you on the phone! Just get here now!”
“All right, Jesus.”
I hang up and twist my phone in my lap. I know I’m not supposed to leave, but there’s something seriously wrong at Mom’s house. My gut clenches as her voice rings in my ear.
Something’s not right.
I gather up my shit, snatching my purse, phone, wallet, and coat. Halfway through the door, I shrug on my coat and lock it. Sprinting across the street, I descend the stairs into the warm metro. Only then do I remember that I should probably text my fiancé where I’m going.
My fiancé.
It sounds so weird.
Halfway there, I convince myself that Mom probably left the stove on and all the crap cluttered nearby caught fire, or she needs me to change a light bulb. I check my phone again and the message is still unsent. Goddamn tunnels.
Despite my inner voice, I still walk a little more quickly when the doors open to the station. The cold nips at my nose as I ascend the staircase. It’s really bright outside. I’ve forgotten how long it’s been since I’ve actually seen the sky, and it’s a blinding white. A thick white blanket covers the sky, mirroring the bright patches of snow on Mom’s lawn. I try to peek in the darkened windows, but I don’t see anything.
Stamping down my nerves, I twist the door and shove it open, stumbling in the dark. My mother is down the hall, looking frightened but in one piece. Another flash of irritation heats my skin.
“She’s here,” she says.
She’s here? Who’s here?
Her eyes are not focused on me.
There’s a sound of a footstep, the scrape of a shoe on carpet, and I turn right into it. A man aims a gun at my forehead and I open my mouth—
“Don’t fucking scream.”
Chapter 12
“Surprise.” His lips pull into a grin, revealing two rows of stained teeth.
My heart pounds behind my ribs, my eyes wide as I seek out my mom, who has her hand covering her mouth. Vomit rises up my throat, but I swallow it down. It burns.
The grin becomes a grimace. “I ought to blow your fucking brains out.”
Mom stands behind him. “No, Richie!”
The metal digs in my temple and I flinch horribly.
“Don’t,” I tremble. “Please don’t kill me.”
I stare into his angry gaze—a face that looks so familiar. He’s a stocky man with jet-black hair and eyes, slicked back hair with a sharp widow’s peak. His thick black eyebrows are narrowed in an expression of violent contempt.
“Richie, don’t hurt her.”
“Shut your fucking mouth.” He turns his head sideways to address my mother.
“W—what’s going on?”
He turns back to me. “You’re going to call that cock-sucking piece of shit Cesare and tell him to come here. And if you tip him off in any way, I’ll kill you.”
Mom strides to his elbow and she grabs his arm. “Richie, that’s not what we discussed—ah!”
She screams as Richie gives her a vicious backhand that leaves her sprawling on the ground. The hateful eyes find me again, cutting deep.
Under my fear, a sliver of confusion rises to the surface. Not what we discussed?
“Just give me a fucking reason. I’ve dealt with your piece of shit family and your cunt of a mother for years.”
“I won’t let you hurt my daughter!” She rises to her feet.
“You want your fucking debts paid off? Then shut the fuck up!”
Her words ring through the apartment, cutting me down to my soul. I forget myself for a moment.
“What does he mean, your debts will be paid off? What did you do?”
Mom braces herself against the wall and gives me a miserable look. “Oh, Adriana.”
“Me and Vincent have a score to settle. My fucking brother is in the hospital.”
That’s why he looks so familiar. Silvio’s brother. They look exactly alike.
“The boss wants him dead, anyway. Not that I give a fuck about Tony and his fucking war.”
“Call him, Adriana.” My mother stands behind Richie, looking pale but determined.
A rush of hatred I’ve never felt before consumes my chest. “You were going to agree to let him kill my fiancé? For what?”
She winces. “You never even mentioned him to me. I didn’t know—”
“Both of you shut the fuck up!”
I jump at the sound of his voice. His gun digs in my skull with every syllable.
“Call him.”
“No.”
“CALL HIM OR I SWEAR I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU!”
My eyes shut as he screams in my face, tears squeeze through my lids and run down my face.
“If you don’t, I will,” Mom says evenly.
Hatred bubbles in my chest as I reach in my purse.
“Put it on speakerphone. Do it!”
Helpless, I put it on speakerphone and
press my finger over Vince’s name. I won’t lead him to his death. I’ll warn him, somehow.
What should I say?
His voice cracks on the speaker.
“Finally, you answer your phone. I got your text. What’s the matter?”
I swallow hard. “Can you come get me now?”
“Is something wrong? Your voice sounds a little—”
I don’t hear the rest, because Richie’s eyes bulge at me in warning. The gun knocks against my head again. “My throat’s just a little dry. Can you bring me a glass of water—I mean, a bottle?”
Silence.
Please remember it. I squeeze my eyes and hope that Vince remembers that stupid phrase he taught me if anything happened during those games.
“Sure,” he says in a controlled voice. “How many?”
How many people?
“Just one, I think. One should do it.”
“Be there soon. I love you.”
“L—love you, too.”
Richie seizes my phone, looking confused and outraged. “What was that, you fucking whore? Some kind of code? What, you think I’m stupid?”
Shit!
“No! I—I was just—” My hands fly in the air as he cocks the gun. “Oh, God. I swear I was just trying to act normal!”
I can see by looking in Richie’s narrowed eyes that he isn’t buying it.
“C’mere you little cunt.”
He grabs me by the hair and drags me into the kitchen, the gun burrowing into the soft flesh of my neck.
“You’re going to sit down at the fucking table. If you move, I’ll kill you. Tommy!”
There’s another man in the house? My heart sinks as I collapse in the kitchen chair. I’ve fucking killed him. He won’t be expecting another gunman.
Another man’s shadow moves in the house. “Yeah?”
“You keep your eyes on the door. I want that prick dead.”
“Got it.”
Fuck.
Richie slinks down the hall, his gun trained on me.
“Sit down next to her,” he barks at my mother, who balks at him.
“But—”
“Jesus fucking Christ—”
“All right!”
I bristle when she sits down next to me. Her large brown eyes stare at me beseechingly and I want to strangle her.
She set me up.
My own mother. I’ll never forgive her for this.
There’s no time to think about my rage. Right now, all I want to do is survive the day.
All of us tense as we hear a knock at the door.
Vince, no!
Richie jerks the gun at me. “You, go answer it. Don’t even think about running off.”
My legs somehow move towards the door, my shoulders tightened. I expect the door to blow open. I hope to God Vince figured it out. My palm falls over the doorknob and my fingers close around the brass. I twist it and it creaks open.
There’s no one.
I turn around to go back inside, but then I see him, crouched on the side of the house and aiming a gun—at me. I tense as he aims away and presses a long finger to his lips. My lips tremble as I sound out, “two.” He nods in understanding.
“There’s no one there.”
“Lying cunt,” the angry voice says behind me. “Cesare, come inside with your hands up, and I won’t kill your whore.”
Before I can move, his hand is wrapped around my throat and he pulls me back into his body.
“Get off me!”
Suddenly, there’s a sound of a crash in the kitchen. The man aiming his gun at the door, waiting for Vince to step aside, makes a jerking movement.
“Fuck. He’s not alone. Go check it out!” Rotting breath billows over my face. “You fucking stupid cunt. You tipped him off.”
His thumbs cut off my air. My windpipe feels like it’s being crushed.
There’s a banging noise in the kitchen, then a small series of zwips. A loud crash. Something heavy falls on the floor, shaking the apartment.
“Jesus, fuck!”
My mother screams from the kitchen. “He’s dead! He’s been shot!”
Good.
“Richie, I’m coming inside,” I hear his gravelly voice near the front door.
“No, Vincent! Don’t!” I scream.
“Shut the fuck up!”
Despite my pleas, Vince walks in with his hands held up, his slacks slightly wet from the snow outside. His expression is unreadable.
“Well, least I know Tony didn’t plan this,” he drawls. “You really didn’t think this hit through, did you?”
“Fuck Tony! I got her mother to bring her here!”
Vincent’s black gaze flashes in the direction of the kitchen, where my mother stands. His face twists.
“So what the fuck do you want, eh? What’s your plan, here? I have guys waiting outside for you to leave. You can leave here in one piece or you can leave in the back of my trunk. It’s your choice.”
“You almost killed my brother! And for what? This broad?”
“He disrespected me at one of my games and he threatened to kill me. I was well within my rights—”
“You think this is the end? The Vittorios are finished. You are on Tony’s hit list, pal.”
“Well, he came, he tried, and I’m still here. Even I never thought Tony would order a hit on all of us while we were surrounded by family, in such a public place. Slimy cocksucker.”
The hand around my throat tightens and I claw at the fingers.
“Let her go,” he growls again.
“Go fuck yourself.”
“There’s no way out, Richard.”
He’s closing my throat of air, shutting the flow of oxygen as I stare at Vince, wide-eyed. “Please.”
Richie shifts, pulling me in front of him as a human shield as he extends his arm with the gun. I scream as the gun fires. Something wet sprays all over my face and Richie’s body falls to the floor with a resolute thud. Vince steps over the threshold, his face a mask of fury. He raises his gun at the body. Pop. Pop. Two bullets sink into Richie’s chest. A third burns a black hole between his eyes.
Mom steps in the hallway and screams, mirroring the feelings boiling inside me.
“Nicky, get in here!”
The short man dashes inside. “Holy fuck,” he says as he almost stumbles over the body. “He’s from Jersey.”
Vince doesn’t speak a word; he strides into the kitchen and grabs my mother, who screams bloody murder. She falls to her knees in front of the body and he digs the nozzle of his gun in the back of her head.
“Fucking stupid bitch!”
No.
A violent surge of disgust and loathing makes me bend over at the waist and retch. My knees dig into the hardwood floor as a pool of blood creeps towards me. Another body stains the floor. Like a brand, it sears into my mind. My memories can’t fade no matter how much I try to run away from them. His murder keeps coming back to me full circle. Another body lies on the hardwood floor of this house. My body wracks with sobs as Vince stands over my mother, preparing to kill her, too.
I don’t want her to die.
“Please, Vince.”
He gives me an incredulous look. “This bitch would have seen you killed if it meant she could save her own stinking skin.”
She’s still my mom.
His jaw sets. “I know she’s your mother, but she witnessed two murders. And we already know the depths of her loyalty.”
“I would never hurt my own daughter,” she screams through her tears.
“You would have helped kill the man I love! How is that not hurting me?”
I stare at her, my eyes hot as she blubbers and cries. Vince gives me an unhappy look as he slides the gun back into his waistband.
Nicky steps out of the bathroom and hands me a towel, dropping a garbage bag in front of me. “Put it in there when you’re done.”
I dab my face with the off-white towel and the sprinkling of blood peppers the fabric. Vince i
s on the phone, calling for help.
They need to get rid of two bodies. Somebody must have heard the gunshots.
His eyes smolder when they fall on my mother. She still sits on the floor, wiping her eyes.
“We’ll be watching you, Mrs. Baldino. If you talk to anyone, you’re dead. You will not talk to Adriana. If I find out you’ve attempted to contact her, I’ll put a bullet in your fucking head.”
My heart wrenches with grief when she looks at me, tears flooding her face.
“Adriana, please. My baby—don’t take away my girl!”
“She’s my girl, now.”
She makes an unnatural sound as he bends down and picks me up. “You’re dead to me, Mom. I don’t want to see you again,” my voice shakes with a sob and Vince’s arms wrap around me.
“No, Adriana!”
I walk through my old house for the last time, the sound of my mother’s crying fading away. It’s like a horrible, black cloud sits on my shoulders, and I’m not sure if it’s going to suffocate me or rise through the air.
* * *
Silence.
I hate the quiet. It’s suffocating. Despite the fact that I’m sitting next to the man responsible for the bodies soaking in the trunk, I feel like I’m the monster.
I can’t stomach it. My own mother. I should have let him kill her. A second later, the thought sickens me. Who the fuck am I?
There’s no one left who cares about me. Only him.
“Adriana, talk to me. Are you all right?”
Vince keeps giving me worried looks, like he’s afraid I might have lost my mind.
It’s possible.
“No, I’m not,” I say in a hoarse voice.
“You will be. I’m taking you to a safe house. The other guys’ wives are already there.”
So he’s leaving me there. I’m still numb. “Where are you going?”
“To another safe house while we try to make a deal with Tony. If not him, then his capos. I’m not sure they’re all thrilled about this war. The less you know, the better.”
As we drive by, I find myself wishing I was buried under the snow.
“I can’t believe she did that to me,” I say in a reedy voice that disgusts me.
Don’t fucking cry.
He squeezes my hand. “At least now you know the truth. We found out who your dad owed those debts to. The Rizzos.” His voice rises sharply. “I knew those FBI cocksuckers were lying. I’ll ask Jack about it, see what he knows.”
High Stakes (A Dark Romance) Page 21
