Wasted (Dirty Boys of Chicago #1)

by Morgan Black

  Nineteen

  Xavier

  The next morning, I met my family at mass. I was still avoiding Farrah and her secret. She hadn’t tried anything yet; maybe she never would.

  I should have dealt with her. Found out the truth. But whenever she was naked, my mind went blank. I couldn’t focus on what was real and what wasn’t. All that I wanted was to be inside her. It was like she had a magic pussy or something.

  “Xavier! Come give your mother a kiss!”

  I bent down and hugged her. “Mama, how are you?”

  “I'm good, my son. Good. Come see everyone! They’ve been waiting so long to see you.”

  She looped her arm through mine, and I escorted her over to a group of gossiping old Italian women. They parted like the Red Sea and led us into their circle. I spent the next twenty minutes listening to how much older I had gotten and how I filled out, as well as how I wasn't eating enough and how I still looked so young. I smiled and nodded, appreciating that they didn't have any real questions about myself. They only asked what they wanted to know. None of the hard stuff.

  “Now Xavier, you're getting to a certain age. Gloria here wants grandbabies. When are you going to settle down and find a nice girl? It would make everyone so happy.”

  Well, that was the question I wasn’t expecting. “You know me, ladies, not really a one woman man.”

  My mother slapped me playfully. “You silly boy! One day, he will give me grandchildren. But until then, he should have some fun. He was away for so long.”

  They all nodded understandingly. Women were strange. I really didn't want to have a conversation on my sex life with them.

  “Mama, the bells are going to ring soon. We should take our seats.” She waved goodbye to friends and I escorted her into the church. Members of our family took up almost half of the chapel. At least ten rows were other guys like me in suits, with old Italian mothers sitting next to them. My family sat right in the front row. Another level of respect. We received communion first and were blessed by the father first. Everyone else waited behind us.

  When mass was over and we walked back outside into the summer sun, I felt free again. I never had any issues with my Catholicism before, but suddenly bringing my knife and a gun into a place of worship did not seem like the right thing to do. Besides, nothing had ever happened to us at mass. I should've just left them in my car. I saw Dante standing uncomfortably near the door, and I wondered if he felt the same way.

  “It's been a while since I've been here.”

  He nodded to me, but his eyes were elsewhere. He was always on the lookout. It was his job.

  “You haven't been here in a long time. What did the father say? Did he ask where you’ve been?”

  I shrugged. “He told me to make sure I start coming back to confession. But I did my confessions in prison. I was one of the most religious guys in there. I didn’t want to take up all the father’s time when I got out.”

  We both laughed. A man walked up to us in a dark blue suit. I didn't recognize him. I noticed that his body was tense.

  He had sandy blonde hair and a light complexion. I looked into his eyes but there was no recognition there.

  He extended his hand to me. “I assume you’re Xavier.”

  Irish accent. My body went rigid.

  “And you are?” I extended my own hand.

  “Ian. Ian McLaren. Is there somewhere we can go and speak in private? I don't want to disturb the parishioners.”

  I lifted my hand toward the church. He nodded and walked up the steps back into the chapel. He sat down in one of the pews about halfway in. I looked over my shoulder to Dante. “No one comes in and no one comes out. Understood?”

  Dante nodded and closed the doors behind me. It was so quiet. Rarely had I come to the church when it was empty. A couple times, I'd come to pray as a teenager. Especially after Farrah had been taken. I felt small in its presence. I sat behind him and he turned around to face me. I wasn't expecting that.

  “It seems you met with one of our dealers. He wasn't very pleased. I appreciated the handiwork.”

  “I'm glad. But that doesn't tell me why you're here. We don't do business on Sundays. It’s the day of rest.”

  He put up his hands. “If it wasn't important, I wouldn’t drag you away from your family time. I only just got out of mass myself. I understand.”

  “Fine. What is it you want to talk about?”

  “You have a rat. And he is playing you. My father wants to set and meet with you and your father. Smoke them out. You take care of your side of the city and we take care of ours, and we've never had problems. I don't want some idiot changing that now.”

  He was smart. And this was our chance to get out of this mess. I had bigger things to deal with, like telling my family about Farrah and finding out more about the Salvatore deal. I wanted this to be over and done with as soon as possible. “We own a restaurant, down on Fifth. Best manicotti in town. Come there and we'll talk. But not with your crew. I hate extra people.”

  He nodded at me. “Sounds delicious. And I agree, extra guests just means extra problems.”

  “Fine. Monday? I don’t want to deal with any more business today.”

  “See you around 6 PM. And just a reminder—we are the arms dealer at the table. So obviously we’ll be packing.”

  “I wouldn’t imagine it going any other way.”

  Both of us sat there in silence for another minute or two before I stood and walked out. Dante held the door open for me and I descended the steps. I walked up behind my father. “The Irish want to meet tomorrow at six. Bring the big guns.”

  He smiled at me like I just told him a funny joke and continued his conversation with some of the other regular churchgoers. I walked to my car and started it up. There wouldn’t be any Sunday dinner for me. I had to prepare.

  Twenty

  Farrah

  I looked at my phone, considering calling Ramsey, but also considering smashing into a million pieces. Xavier hadn't shared any shiny new information in the few days that we'd been together. And if nothing had come out yet, it wasn't going to. I made a clear decision in my mind. Xavier had nothing to do with my parents’ deaths.

  At least that was what I was telling myself.

  I sat at the apartment without anything else to do. I considered going out for a walk or to go do some more shopping, but everything just seemed so frivolous. I’d come out of hiding to do a job, and I hadn't been successful in my uncle’s eyes. But I decided to call him and tell him my decision anyway. It was the easiest thing to do.

  “Ramsey, it's Farrah.”

  “What did you learn?”

  “Nothing. The Santinis had nothing to do with the death of my parents. It's time to let it go.”

  There was silence on the other end of the line.

  “Ramsey? Are you there?”

  He sighed, “Of course I'm here. You're wrong, Farrah. I will convince you in the end.”

  “You can try. Xavier and I are together now. I'm not going to lie to myself and deny my feelings anymore. I want to be with him. And you're going to leave him alone, and leave me out of it.”

  “Don't you want revenge? Your whole life was destroyed because of them. Don’t you realize that?”

  I had realized that. Xavier was building it back up piece by piece, and I couldn't risk things with him. I was terrified to leave Ramsey—he might even try to come for me—but I needed to move on. “I built my own life now. Don’t ever call me again.”

  “You’re just like your dumb mother. Running out on family, that's a death sentence. Look at what happened to her.”

  “Xavier will not let that happen to me.” I ended the call before I had a chance to listen to anything else he had to say. I made my decision. Now we just had to tell his family.

  I walked over to the closet and pulled out one of the new dresses I had bought. A surprise at Sunday dinner would be perfect. Just get it all out in the open at once. I would call Xavier and ask hi
m to meet me, tell him everything. In the end, I hoped he would understand.

  Just as I was about to slip into the dress, I heard keys in the door.

  “Xavier? Is that you?”

  The door opened and I walked out of the closet, expecting to see him in his Sunday best. He left the apartment this morning in a sexy suit with a dark blue tie. I hadn't seen him ever look hotter. But as I held the dress up to myself and turned around, I stifled a scream.

  My uncle was standing in the bedroom. And he had a gun pointed at my head.

  Twenty-One

  Farrah

  “What the hell are you doing here? Put that gun down!”

  I looked at the man in front of me. He looked completely deranged. His usual suit was replaced with jeans and a T-shirt. His hair that was usually combed to one side was disheveled. His hands shook and his finger was on the trigger.

  “I've been watching you. I knew you would side with them in the end.”

  “Side with who? The Santinis? They haven't done anything wrong! What you're doing right now is wrong. Put the gun away, Ramsey!” My voice wavered. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. What was he doing?

  Was I going to die over this?

  He shook his head and wiped sweat from his brow. “I can't do that.”

  He moved toward me, and I felt the clothes against my back as I reached the corner of the closet. I didn't have any weapons, and I wasn't the type of girl to be good in a fight. I was in trouble.

  “Why can't you? I'm your niece! Don't you want the bloodshed to end?”

  “You can't really be with him. He's a traitor. He took your family from you. Can't you see that?”

  “I guess love just creates blinders. It doesn't matter to me about the past. I'm looking forward to my future. You can have a future too, uncle. You just have to put the gun down.”

  He shook his head. “You’re just like her. Running away from the family.”

  “I'm not like her. I'm not trying to run away from you. I just need this to end. I've made my choice!”

  “That's what she said. Right before she packed her things and got in the car with that drunk bastard that brought her here. And then she really turned her back on us by working for another family. Like they were her blood! They were not her family. We are.”

  I needed time. I needed to calm him down and make my way over to the bed where the gun was hidden beneath the mattress. I needed to shoot my uncle. It was the only way I would ever get out of this alive. All of these years of pent up aggression toward my mother and wondering the truth about what happened to her had made him a crazy man.

  I should have seen the signs earlier. When I first went to live with him, my grandmother was still alive. She would cook for us every night, and sitting at that table with the two of them felt like home. But every night, during prayers, my uncle would mention my mother, and it always broke my heart.

  When my grandmother passed, he became more unhinged. I remembered family members coming to the house and telling him he needed to get his life together. That was when he started focusing on finding my mother’s killer. I should have noticed then. The times he would stay up all night watching Chicago news online. How much he visited my mother’s grave. He began prepping me for Xavier’s release. All the things I needed to say, to do, to make sure he fell for me.

  But neither of us had planned on me falling in love with him. Or maybe I had lied to him and myself this whole time. Did I really want the truth, or did I just want a reason to be close to Xavier again? I wasn’t sure. Clearly, that had fueled his insanity further. I needed to figure out a way to escape.

  I refused to be his next victim.

  Twenty-Two

  Xavier

  As I walked up the stairs, I realized that I didn't recognize the car out front. Maybe there was a new tenant in the building. That seemed odd to me, as I hadn't seen any recent moving trucks. But I guessed one of the lofts could've been rented for a few weeks. I'd only been back less than a week myself.

  In less than one week, shit had completely hit the fan. Between finding Farrah and falling back in love with her, the Irish, and the threat of the Salvatore family and having a relationship with my parents, my world was coming unhinged. And I wasn’t happy about it.

  When I saw my door open, I realized my world could still explode.

  I pulled a knife from underneath my pants and I crept into my own apartment on high alert. I could hear two people arguing in the bedroom. One of them was clearly Farrah, and the other had a thick Italian accent that I didn't recognize. They were arguing about her mother, actually, about both of her parents. Who would come here to talk about that? Had my father found out she was here and sent someone to finish her?

  That didn't make any sense. I stood in silence next to the open doorway of my bedroom. I craned my neck to get a quick glance around the corner of the white walls. There was a man, definitely older than me, standing with a gun pointed into the closet. As I heard the conversation continue, I realized that Farrah was hiding in the closet from him.

  Fucking bastard. Whoever the hell he was, he would pay for scaring my girl.

  I gripped the handle of my knife and I backed up away from the doorway. I would need to charge at him. And bullets were faster than people. I took a deep breath and prepared myself. I held my breath and sprinted into the bedroom, slamming my body into his and tackling him to the ground. He hadn't even heard me coming, as his focus was solely on Farrah.

  As I knocked him down to the ground, the gun went off.

  Luckily, it shot up toward the ceiling, and I felt the drywall fall down on us. I grabbed his gun hand and slammed it on the ground, forcing him to loosen his grip. It fell away, just out of his reach. I pinned down both of his arms, dropping my knife in the process.

  “Who the hell are you?”

  He didn't move. He didn't even struggle and try to get away. He knew he was outnumbered. Farrah picked up the gun from the floor and pointed it at him. Her hands were shaking; she would never be able to take the shot.

  “Farrah, baby, there's rope in the closet. Get it for me.”

  She nodded, sucking her lower lip; she was terrified.

  “Now I’m going ask you again, who are you? And what the hell are you doing in my house?”

  “Ask her.” He looked directly in Farrah’s direction. She emerged from the closet, holding a thick rope in her hands.

  “Where did you put the gun?”

  “I left it in there.”

  I nodded to her. “Good. Now, let’s tie this bastard up.”

  I instructed her to get a chair from the dining room, and she pulled it into the bedroom, where I picked his ass up and slammed it down. I half expected the chair to break underneath his weight and my force, but it held. I quickly tied his hands to the chair behind his back and I waited for someone to speak. Farrah was on the bed with her knees pulled up to her chest, chewing on her nails. She looked as young and terrified as she had when they loaded her into the police car that night. It killed me to see it.

  “Is someone going to tell me what the hell is going on here?”

  I looked to Farrah. “Farrah, do you know this man?”

  She nodded. I saw that her mascara had begun to run, and she was silently crying. “He's my uncle. My mother's brother.”

  I looked at him in disbelief. “You're Ramsey Salvatore? Maria’s brother?”

  He nodded and smiled a toothy grin. I couldn't have that. Not in my house. I wound up and gave him a swift uppercut to the jaw. I enjoyed the crunching sound my fist made when it reached his flesh. It was satisfying. Now he just looked his feet. But it was far better than him being happy about being stuck there.

  “So what are you doing here?

  If he tried to take her from me, I would have to kill him. I wouldn’t let anyone else have her.

  “I know what you did.” He sneered. “And I've told her, too. About her daddy. You were the one who set off the chain of events that caused her mother to be k
illed. And while I don't really care that her bastard father is dead, I do care that his brother took it out on my sister, leading to her death. Farrah was my in on getting some information on you, proving that you started everything. I couldn’t come for you myself, you see; the family thought it would start a war. I needed another way in, to get the information to them, and then let them take you down. All of you.”

  I looked at Farrah, shocked. “Is that true? Is that what this was to you? Just fishing for information?” My father had been right. Fuck.

  She put her hands up in protest. “It might've started like that, but it's not anymore. I love you, Xavier! I always have. But my uncle didn't understand that. He just wanted me to spy on you. But I couldn’t. I fell for you and everything just got messed up.”

  I cracked my knuckles and balled my fists. When my flesh made contact with his face again, I gave him a black eye. He fucking deserved it. Trying to turn my girl on me.

  “So you knew the whole time?” I said as I turned to her. Ramsey’s head was hanging in an awkward direction. He was grumbling in pain.

  “I never thought that you actually killed my father. I was trying to prove that you didn’t.”

  I had to tell her the truth. But I didn't know how I would do it.

  “Let's go to the kitchen.” I grabbed my knife off the floor and I held it against his throat. “And if you so much as breathe the wrong way, I will come back in here and slice you open. Do I make myself clear?”

  He moaned in response.

  I walked out of the bedroom and began pacing back and forth in the kitchen. Farrah followed me, looking completely distraught. How was I supposed to tell her this? When she turned on her own family in order to protect me?

  “You need to sit down.”