by Sam Mariano
“Mateo…” I shake my head. “You said you were letting her go.”
“I did.”
“Then stop worrying about her. She’s Vince’s partner, not yours. If he’s worried about her safety, he’ll take care of it. You’ll only stomp all over his pride if you swoop in again and start overshadowing him.”
“I think Mia’s safety is slightly more important than Vince’s ego,” Mateo says, rolling his eyes.
“What would Meg think about this?” I ask, more because I want to see if it makes him look guilty than anything.
It doesn’t.
“Meg is equal parts ice and love—she loves Mia, so she’d be equally as concerned.”
I shake my head, pushing the oatmeal around my bowl. I’m filling up with Mateo’s problems again, and it’s not leaving much room for an appetite. “Tell me the truth, Mateo. Are you planning on taking her from him again?”
“No,” Mateo says, lifting his coffee cup and taking a sip. “Not planning on it.”
I’m uncomfortable with that second part. “No bullshit. Is this a problem I’m going to have to deal with again? Forget about me judging you; for practicality’s sake, I need to know.”
“You’ll judge me regardless,” he says, smirking. “It’s what you do.”
“Mateo.”
“I already said no,” he states.
I still don’t believe him. I want to, I really want to, but he doesn’t sound sure enough, and he’s not an uncertain person. With last night so fresh in my mind, the feeling, however brief, however watered down, of what Vince must have gone through, it’s hard to let go.
“You’ll make him an enemy if you do,” I tell him.
“Because we’re so close now,” he says, rolling his eyes.
No, they’re certainly not that. “If this is happening… You can’t keep me in the dark about it, Mateo. I can’t protect you if you do.”
He meets my gaze, probing a little more than I’m comfortable with. “You think Vince has the balls to take me on?”
“I don’t know,” I say, tiredly passing a hand over my mouth. “But I know he loves that girl, and I know you have a tendency to drive people past the bounds of sanity with your bullshit.”
Seeming to consider this, he nods, almost like he agrees. He probably does. He’s not an idiot; he knows what he does to people. “Well, like I said. I have no plans to take Mia from Vince.”
I don’t know if he’s wording his refusals that way on purpose, to drive me batshit crazy, or if he’s lying to himself, but he just made my predestined bad day a whole lot worse.
---
As the last strains of Life on Mars? drift off into the brief silence before the next track plays, I turn the radio off. The only thing worse than listening to music in the car is having to get out before a song finishes. Vince and Joey should be here any minute, and it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve made someone wait for me to finish a song before I get out, but I’m not in the mood for it today.
My mood today is black. Even the sight of Elise’s bare body curled up in bed beside me this morning failed to make me feel lighter. Breakfast with Mateo made it all worse, and now I just want to get this shit over with.
I decide to head inside. They know where I’ll be. It’s not unusual to gather here, to talk in the back room Mateo likes. He makes us sweep the damn building for bugs weekly. I don’t know how he stays so concerned about that shit. I’ve been in this life so long, I hardly even think about the police anymore. They’re nothing. Not for us. Mateo invests enough money in them—frankly, they should send him a Christmas card every year for how much he gives, not just to the individual cops on his payroll, but to the department itself. Mateo knows how to make the right friends, I’ll give him that.
Me, I’m not much for making friends. I could never do what Mateo does. I don’t like people enough, and he has more inherent charisma in his thumb than I have overall.
That’s what makes us a good team though. He keeps things running smoothly with his god-given talents; I keep things under control with mine.
Speaking of things I need to keep under control, Vince and Joey finally come strolling in.
I turn to look at my chair.
Not my chair, like the one I’m going to sit in, but my chair.
See, there’s a lot to be said about mixing things up. It’s good to have the edge of unpredictability, it’s good when people don’t know what to expect from you. But there’s also something to be said for having something dependable, some unbending part of your routine—something that strikes fear into the hearts of hardened, grown fucking men.
For me, it’s my chair.
Nothing fancy, nothing special, just a rusty, once-gray fold-up chair that sits along the cement wall in this old abandoned building. A light hangs over it for dramatic effect, blood stains on the legs, since I don’t see the point in cleaning it every time, and I like the dread it stirs in the people who notice.
No one’s worried about cleanliness when they take a seat in this chair. After all, no one ever leaves my chair alive.
Joey’s eyebrows knit together as he glances around the empty room, expecting to see more than just me.
Vince shifts uneasily, his gaze moving to the chair like he knows.
They both should’ve known.
I could’ve moved a second chair over there in anticipation of their arrival, but I didn’t, because I want them to experience every second of this. They both watch now as I drag a second chair across the cold, dirty floor and set it up to the left of my chair.
“Have a seat.”
Chapter Thirteen
Vince’s eyes bounce from the chair to me, while Joey’s go wide. I watch him dart a glance over his shoulder, like he’s prepared to run, but to do so would be to admit guilt. To do so would mean he dies like a bitch, face down on a cement floor.
I watch him decide against this. I see the desperate fear morph to a pitiful kind of hope, thinking of the years we’ve known each other—I literally knew Joey when he was a little kid, bringing me his Hot Wheels, trying to steal my attention away when I was busy playing with Mateo. I was there when Luciana told him with a sick sort of pleasure about how their father used to keep his mother locked in the basement, tied to a cot while she was pregnant with him. Luciana had a psychopathic streak in her that typically skips the Morelli women and only lands with the males, but she went through a lot shit in her life, too. Probably fucked her up.
Yeah, Joey and I go way back. I understand why he hopes that will matter. Logically he has to know it won’t, since there’s some shit you just don’t do, and betraying Mateo Morelli tops that list.
Nearly getting his unborn child killed? That doesn’t even require a list; it’s just common fucking sense.
But these guys are young, and Joey seems to have even less of that than Vince.
Vince doesn’t come across as hopeful. He doesn’t look behind him at the exit, doesn’t consider running. Without argument, he walks over and drops into my chair, folding his arms across his chest and glaring.
Joey’s still by the door, and I’m starting to lose my patience.
“Move your ass,” I tell him.
Joey plays dumb. “Adrian, what is this about? What’s going on?”
“You know what it’s about. Sit your ass down so we can talk. Unless you’re not interested in a trial, and you want to skip right to the sentencing?”
His breathing already labored, Joey hauls himself across the room and takes a seat next to Vince.
Now that they’re both seated and I’m standing before them, I take out my gun. I didn’t bother before now—could’ve grabbed it fast enough if one of them tried to run. I didn’t expect they would. I did expect Vince to look more scared than he does though, given he’s the younger of the two, the newest to all this shit, the most reluctant.
Joey’s gaze darts to my gun, then to my face, then to Vince.
“Either of you two want to start?” I ask.
<
br /> Of course they don’t. Even once caught, people want to believe you might not know. They want to believe a reprieve is coming.
Well, most people. Some people just spill their guts, hoping that will earn them mercy, but no one in the Morelli family expects that, so I’m not surprised when neither man speaks.
“Okay,” I say, turning and beginning a slow, purposeful pace in front of their chairs. “I’ll start. Which one of you stupid motherfuckers told Castellanos where to find Mateo the night Meg was shot?”
Joey’s head falls back, a dread-filled, “Oh, fuck,” falling right out of him.
“No volunteers?” I ask after a few seconds. “All right, we’ll come back to that. I don’t recommend you stay silent on this one.” I stop pacing, staring Joey straight in the eye, then Vince. “Who else in this family knew?”
“No one,” Vince mutters.
“No one?” I question, my eyebrows shooting up. “Not Mia?”
A bitter little smile tugs at his mouth and he shakes his head. “Definitely not Mia.”
“Why should I believe you?”
Vince meets my gaze. “Because you know as well as I do that she would’ve fucking told him.”
I close my eyes for a split second, uttering a string of internal curses that would make a sailor blush. “Are you stupid, Vince, or just fucking suicidal?”
“Not everyone worships at the altar of Mateo, Adrian,” he says, loathing permeating each syllable. “I would’ve been loyal to him all my life, but where’s his loyalty to me?”
“He let you keep her!” I remind him, wanting to punch him in the face instead of shoot it.
“Oh, what a fucking nice guy,” he shoots back. “He let me keep my own girlfriend? What a goddamn saint, I’m sorry, my fucking bad.”
“And Meg? You feel good knowing you almost got her killed? What do you think Mateo does if Meg dies, Vince?”
For the first time, I see a shred of remorse. “I never wanted Meg to get hurt. I thought…” He trails off, shaking his head.
“No, finish your fucking thought.”
“I thought Castellanos would send someone good enough to get the fucking job done; I didn’t think Meg would get hurt.”
I shake my head, honestly flabbergasted. Even having figured it out, even knowing what he did, I can’t believe he’s admitting it like this. I can’t believe he’s standing by it.
Joey isn’t.
“We fucked up,” Joey finally says, shaking his head. “We fucked up bad. We wanted to call it off, man, but it was too late.”
“No, we didn’t,” Vince disagrees. “I didn’t want to call it off.”
Joey stares at Vince, his eyes wide. Finally he looks back at me, though he looks as baffled by Vince’s suddenly steel spine as I am. “Well, I did.”
“Vince, what the fuck is wrong with you?” I ask, because I’m genuinely confused. He knows what I’m capable of. He knows what happens to men who sit in this chair, and he damn sure knows what happens to people who do the shit he’s admitting to right now.
Meeting my gaze unflinchingly, he asks, “You want me to lie?”
“No, I want you to not be an asshole,” I state.
Pointing at his chest, he demands, “I’m the asshole? See, I don’t think I am. I think he is. He’s the fucking villain, Adrian, and everyone loves him. What the fuck is that?”
“She doesn’t love him,” I state, since it’s clearly only Mia he cares about.
“Yes she fucking does,” he says, shaking his head. “Don’t do that. Don’t try to lie. You know she does.”
“If she does, it’s not like she loves you. It’s…” I trail off, shaking my head. “He’s the boss, Vince. Would you rather she hated him? If you want her to be a part of the family, she has no choice but to kneel to him.”
“Yeah, well, maybe I don’t want her kneeling to him,” he states, folding his arms again.
This kid’s a ball of fucking rage. How have I missed this? I knew he was pissed before they moved out of the house, but I thought their own space helped ease the burden.
“I thought you were over this,” I state.
He meets my gaze, just a hint of sadness breaking through his resentment. “You know, the last time we had a fight, a really bad one, I thought she wanted to leave me. But she wouldn’t. Not because she can’t—Mateo gave her back her freedom, and I’m not one of those assholes, I’d never force her to stay with me; but I wasn’t afraid she’d leave. Not because she loves me too much. Mia loves me, but not as much as I love her. I fucking adore her. I love her heart, I love her mind, I love the fact that even knowing the life I have to live, she can still look at me and see something good, but none of that is why she won’t leave me. She won’t leave because she wants to stay in his family. Because if she fucking left me, Adrian, she wouldn’t see him on Sundays.”
Sympathy suddenly hits me in the gut, because I completely understand how he feels. For years I’ve had to watch Elise’s infatuation with Mateo, watch her look at him the way I look at her. I feel bad for the kid, and I completely understand why this happened.
It just doesn’t matter why, because it shouldn’t have happened, regardless. Loyalty to Mateo is how you survive this family—a lesson Mia picked up quick, and Vince seems to have forgotten.
I hate the next question I have to ask. “Was this Joey’s idea or yours?”
“Mine.”
There’s a challenge in his eyes. No remorse, again.
Joey’s gaze is darting from me to Vince, but that relaxes him a little. I don’t know why—the asshole was complicit, no matter whose idea it was.
I nod my head, easing back. I hate what I’m about to do. I hate it so fucking much.
“Goddamn you, Vince.”
I hold his gaze, but I can feel Joey watching me as I pull back the muzzle. I raise my arm, aiming directly at Vince’s forehead.
He swallows, but he doesn’t look away from me. “Tell Mia I’m sorry.”
I push out a breath, my finger flexing on the trigger, and then I swing my arm and fire at Joey’s forehead before I can second guess myself.
Vince jumps as Joey’s body slumps, toppling to the floor beside the chair, a disgusting new stain on this cold cement floor and my own soul.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Adrian!” Vince screams, launching out of his chair and over to Joey. The kid covers his mouth, staring at the motionless body of his closest friend.
He doubles over, breathing deeply and letting it out.
I think he might throw up, but he doesn’t.
“Sit back down,” I say, like I’m heartless.
His gaze jumps to mine, and for the first time in his life, he looks at me like he’s seeing a monster. “You just… you just…”
“You did that,” I tell him, calmly.
His chest is pumping, his face pale. I know how close he was to Joey, I know what he must be feeling right now. Right now he probably wishes I was dead, but he falls back the few steps and drops his ass back into my chair like I commanded.
I take a step closer. “If Mia wanted Mateo, she would have him. He gave her a choice, Vince. Did he borrow her? Yes. Did he steal her? No. Because she didn’t want to be stolen. When she went to that poker game, he gave her a choice. She could have him and stay, or she could have you and leave. She chose you. He respected that. What else matters?”
A flicker of doubt crosses his pale features. “He gave her that choice?”
I nod once. I’m not sure this is true, but I know what he needs to hear. “He wanted her, but she wanted you more. And now he has Meg, and unless some treasonous fucking asshole gets her killed? He’s not going to come sniffing around your girlfriend anymore, Vince. If Meg died, he would. If he ever finds out you were behind it, I feel fucking sorry for Mia, but that would be on you. This thirst for vengeance? You need to squash it. It’s over, it’s done. Think of it as your ‘one night with the king’ sacrifice and move the fuck on. Mia has. He did worse shit to her than he�
�s done to you; hell, you did some pretty bad shit to her yourself and she still loves you—so learn from your girlfriend and let it go. Because you’re going to get yourself killed if you don’t.”
“Going to?” he questions.
I straighten, sighing. “I’ve always considered you a friend, Vince. That’s not why I’m considering letting you walk out of here, though. I’ve had to kill friends before. Like just now,” I add, indicating Joey, dead and bleeding out all over the floor. “The thing is, I owe a debt to Mia. If not for Mia, unaccountably thinking of me during the darkest time of her life, Elise would still be in Mateo’s house, mooning after him to this day. I gave up five years of my life to buy her freedom, and she didn’t even want to fucking leave—not until Mia interfered, anyway. Mia showed her that Mateo hurts people. She made her see it. She made her clean it up.”
At that, Vince swallows, his eyes dropping. I can only imagine he’s recalling how he treated her when Mateo was abusing her—and I hope he is, because that was shitty.
“And so, I’m going pay that debt right now. I can’t guarantee you’re going to walk out of here alive, the rest is up to you, but I’m giving you something you don’t deserve—a second chance.”
Vince’s gaze tries to drift back over to Joey, but he makes a visible effort to keep his eyes trained on me.
“You don’t want Mateo to die, Vince. Castellanos doesn’t take over if you destabilize the family like that, Dante does, and you don’t want Dante running things. He won’t fuck your girlfriend, but he’s mean, and he’s not afraid of a gang war. He wants more territory; he’s not afraid to lose people. Mateo knows that more territory means more lives lost. Maybe yours. He doesn’t want that. You may not like him, and I get it, but you could do a lot fucking worse.”
Vince’s eyes finally drop, first to my chest, then down near my feet. “We talked to his dad.”
“Whose dad?”
His gaze returns to mine. “Mateo. Matt.”
Even now, hearing the old man’s name makes my gut burn with fury. “Why would you talk to him?”
