Anthony

by Sydney Landon

  His tone brooks no arguments. I do as I’m told. I fix a plate, grab a bottle of water from the refrigerator, and take it to the sofa. There is an old western on television, and I stare at it as if fascinated but see nothing. Because all I can think of is the man, who, at this very moment, may be killing someone to avenge me. And no matter what Marco thinks, I have no concern for Jeremy. If I had the courage, I would have killed him myself ages ago. No, I fear that Jeremy will take Tony by surprise and hurt him first. I don’t care what Tony has done or can do. I’ve faced monsters without a soul or an ounce of remorse. Tony is neither. But I can’t let go of Marco’s words. You’re a weakness to a man who had none. If I didn’t feel guilty before, I certainly do now. I’ll never deserve the type of retribution Tony is exacting tonight. Never. I’ll never deserve to be any man’s weakness, especially not one as incredible as Tony Moretti. If you care about the man who’s put himself at risk for you, then you’ll sit down, shut up, and eat your fucking dinner. I do care about Tony. So much. And I will not allow him to sacrifice his life for me. I set my untouched pizza aside and approach Marco again. He lifts a brow in inquiry, and I notice his appetite is fine if the pizza crusts littering his plate are any indication. “Just promise me one thing. This doesn’t touch him. If for some reason you can’t…do whatever it is you do to fix stuff like this—“

  “Excuse me?” He sounds offended that I have the audacity to question his…skills.

  “Just listen,” I snap, tired of his heavy-handedness. Men and their egos. “If for some really strange reason this goes badly, I will turn myself in, and I want you to back me up.” He’s the one who looks stunned now. He was not expecting that. “I will not let him take the fall for avenging me. Believe me, prison would be a picnic compared to the hell I’ve lived through. I’m tough. I can survive it. So, if it comes to that, you will back whatever story I come up with. A Moretti in prison would be dead before a week passed, and you know it. How many would love to kill someone of his stature?”

  I’ve got his attention now. He’s no longer scowling, but something akin to respect reflects in his eyes. “I knew you were something that night I met you. I’m not gonna lie. I’ve questioned it a few times since then, but you just redeemed yourself. Tony will probably kill me, but you are right about his survival odds in prison. Me, or one of the guys, would be bad enough, but the Moretti prince would have a price on his head immediately. There would be no saving him somewhere like that. But it will not come to that. I will protect him, and I will protect you. You’ve earned that much.”

  “So what now?” I ask, feeling nerves return as the adrenaline recedes.

  “We wait. That’s all you can do sometimes, Lucy. Wait.”

  “We wait. Okay.” I can’t eat any food now, as my heart is in my throat. Instead, I go to the bedroom and lie across the bed.

  So this is what it’s like? Feeling something so strong for someone who isn’t my blood? I only know that if I lose Tony, I won’t survive it.

  I won’t survive it.

  * * *

  TONY

  Finding Jeremy Caulder didn’t take long. As luck has it, he’s working late in his home office tonight. He has no wife or children and lives on at least ten acres of land with the closest neighbor several miles away. I’m sitting in the passenger seat of Nic’s Cadillac Escalade while he and Mike scout our surroundings. I was adamantly opposed to dragging anyone else into my personal vendetta against Caulder, but Marco left me little choice. He fully intended to accompany me himself and had been fucking pissed when I pointed out that he was the most likely to be noticed should he go off grid. After all, he is Rutger’s son. Nic and Mike, however, are off duty tonight, and Marco insisted either they go with me or he would. We argued as always about him protecting me, but he held firm. I have just checked the clip of my 9mm when I see shadows approaching. They pull the ski masks off, and I lower my gun. Nic’s usual smirk is nowhere in sight when he gets in the vehicle and shuts the door. “What?” A sense of foreboding runs down my spine. From the moment we entered the property, I haven’t been able to shake the feeling that something is off.

  Nic turns to me, more serious than I’ve seen him in a long time. “Apparently, you’re not Caulder’s only enemy. Someone had quite a party here, and we weren’t invited.”

  “What the fuck does that mean?” I ask, irritated that everyone around me seems to speak in some ghetto code now.

  Ever the serious one, Mike leans forward between the seats and puts a hand on my shoulder. “He’s dead, Tony. And we’re not talking just a shot to the head here. Whoever killed him made it slow and painful. I’ve seen some fucked-up shit, but this is right up there.”

  I sit in stunned silence for several long moments. Who else did you piss off? “When you say ‘fucked-up shit,’ exactly what are we talking here?”

  Nic whistles low before shaking his head. “His hands were removed. Fucking gone. He was naked. So, there was no missing the knife wounds all over his body. Ears were severed, and his eyes were held shut with metal hooks. He had a bullet hole in his forehead, but my guess is that was done last. You don’t do shit like that unless you want the person to suffer. You’re not going to gift them with a mercy killing first, then carve them up like a jack-o’-lantern.”

  “You have got to be fucking kidding me,” I say incredulously. I’m denied retribution yet again? “You sure it’s him?”

  Nic snorts as if to say really? “When have you ever known us not to do our homework first, Tony? I can assure you that the mess on the floor in that house is Jeremy Caulder.” He leans over and pulls his gun out of his ankle holster. “But I know you’re not going to take my word for it. So, let’s get this shit over with.” He opens his door, then stops before getting out to say, “I’m not kidding. It’s fucked-up shit. If you think there is any chance at all you’ll puke, then you better take something with you to catch it. We leave nothing behind that the cops can use.”

  I open my mouth, ready to chew his ass out for that insulting remark, but then I think better of it. As always, he’s simply trying to cover me. Neither he nor Mike is under any obligation to be here with me tonight. In fact, they’ll be in a fuckload of trouble if anyone in the family finds out. We have enough to deal with without me taking my frustration out on him. “I’m good,” I say as we each put on masks and gloves. We crouch low and steadily make our way through the wooded area surrounding Caulder’s house. Nic insisted on taking the lead with Mike following behind me. The killer could still be in the area, and Nic’s trained to scan the perimeter with skill beyond me. After all, he’s trained extensively with retired Navy SEALs. When we reach the back of the old farmhouse, Mike hands us each booties to slip over our shoes. It doesn’t occur to me to question why he has them. Mike is a person always prepared for anything.

  “His office is the second door on the right,” Nic whispers before easing the door open. We move slowly, careful not to alert anyone who might be in the house to our presence. Nic and Mike checked it earlier, but that’s not a guarantee someone didn’t escape detection. Or come back. When we reach the office and I get my first look at Caulder, I understand Nic’s warning. It’s grisly—and the smell is enough to make my stomach roil.

  “Fuck,” I hiss. Deep breaths are not an option. I do my best to block out the stench and study the scene. Nic’s description was gruesomely accurate. This isn’t your run-of-the-mill killing. No, this shit was personal. Someone took a lot of time and effort to inflict this type of carnage. The knife wounds show rage. Caulder might have made it worse by saying something to piss off his assailant. That’s not my gut feeling, though. Even though this was most certainly premeditated, there’s also an element of carelessness that I bet the killer hadn’t planned on. Torture? No doubt about that. But the sheer brutality of the killing suggests this person lost control—at least for a few moments. And when that happens, you make mistakes. Maybe the police will find something but maybe they won’t. Something must have been l
eft behind, but we don’t have time to confirm that. Nor do we need to risk leaving behind something ourselves.

  Now the shock has lessened slightly, I study the body intently. If not for the fact that I’ve had several meetings with Caulder in recent days, I’d be hard pressed to identify him. The blood covering much of his face makes it challenging, but it’s him. I thought the diamond earring in his ear odd the first time I met him because it seemed out of place in his otherwise clean-cut persona, but now it helps confirm his identity. Mike comes to stand beside me. “I hope he deserved to go out that way,” he says as he stares at what’s left of the man.

  I haven’t shared the full story with them out of respect for Jacey—I didn’t have to. They trusted my judgment without question. Nic was astute enough to read between the lines. But Mike deals in facts. He’s not comfortable with guessing games. “I don’t necessarily agree with this type of flashy brutality. I think there’s a strong possibility he had a history of violence toward women. For that reason, he had to be stopped. Obviously, someone agrees with my sentiment. His sins caught up with him as they do everyone.”

  “We need to go,” Nic murmurs when he finishes a quick inspection of the room. “Someone may miss him sooner than later, and I don’t think the police will be too understanding of our presence here.”

  We’re careful not to disturb anything as we make our way back out. No one speaks until we’re in the vehicle and heading toward the city. “That was fucked up.” Nic sighs. I’m startled from my inner musings when he asks, “Do you think this is connected to you?”

  “Wait, what? What the fuck?”

  Nic stares straight ahead as he navigates the busy road. “Just feels like an awfully big coincidence to me. We’re racking up weird occurrences each week it seems. Thinking we can’t afford to assume that anything out of the norm isn’t connected to you.”

  “He’s right,” Mike says quietly from the back seat. “Granted, there is no logic to base this theory on, but it’s probably safer to question everything, even if it sounds absurd.”

  I mull his words over and grudgingly agree. We need to be careful that we don’t cross the line from being thorough to paranoid. If Caulder hadn’t been working for me recently, I would have discounted this vague link. But Nic’s raised a valid point, and I nod despite how farfetched this whole thing sounds. “Agreed. We add it to the list and see if we can find any way to tie it what we’ve been doing.”

  “I’m getting a bad feeling about this,” Nic mumbles as if speaking to himself.

  “I’ve had one for a while,” Mike chimes in. “Not that we’re all involved. We wouldn’t let you do this without us. It feels as if nothing is as it seems.”

  “I second that,” Nic says. “Almost like I could pick up a can of Coke and find it’s Pepsi even though nothing indicates I should question it. If it says Coke, then it should be.”

  “That argument is completely without merit,” Mike deadpans.

  I shake my head as they argue back and forth. Their bickering is comforting to me in a way. I’ve always been amused by the way Mike’s levity clashes with Nic’s unusual thought process. By rights, they shouldn’t be able to stand spending so much time together, but I think they secretly enjoy the arguments. This continues until we reach the club. I hope Jacey is asleep so we can tell Marco what happened without her overhearing us. It’s not something I want to share on the phone. We walk through the darkened club and up the stairs. I’ve just opened the door and taken a step inside when I see a blur of movement. I’m in the process of reaching for my gun when Marco shouts, “For God’s sake, don’t shoot her crazy ass. Well, maybe just wound her enough to shut her up. Oh, and by the way, she knows. Sorry.”

  She knows? What the fuck? Her arms and legs are wrapped around me so tightly that I can’t move forward without face planting. I’m nudged to the side as Nic and Mike move into the apartment. “Duchess—“

  Hearing her nickname appears to bring her to her senses because her legs loosen before dropping from around my waist. She hangs by her arms awkwardly, and I grunt in exasperation before putting my hands on her hips and lowering her feet to the floor. If I think this bizarre display is over, I’m wrong, because her hands begin patting at my chest and stomach. I hear laughter from the kitchen area when she walks around behind me and inspects my back before returning to stand in front of me once again. When she moves lower, I put a stop to this. I grab her wrists, stilling her movements. I gather that’s the wrong thing to do when she snaps, “What in the hell were you thinking, Moretti? You repay my trust in you by going off to play mafia vigilante? And you leave Marco here to babysit me? By the way, he sucks at it.”

  “Hey!” Marco says indigently. “I think I handled your PMS-Barbie mood swings pretty damn well.”

  I don’t need this shit tonight. I motion for her to step aside so I can close the door behind us. Then I cross to the kitchen cabinet that holds the hard stuff. I grab the first glass I can find and fill the fucking thing with bourbon. I down half of it in one swig. Can’t put it off forever. I take a couple of deep breaths, then turn to face the others. I glare at Marco who’s still glaring at Jacey. I’m surrounded by fucking children. Nic looks vastly amused while Mike appears oblivious as he flips through my Wall Street Journal. Wonder if he has room for one more in his happy place? I set my glass on the bar with a little more force than necessary, but the thud gets everyone’s attention. My voice is unnaturally calm. “Let’s start with how and why there was an exchange of sensitive information here?”

  Whereas she was practically growling at him moments before, Jacey comes to his defense. “I’ll have you know, Anthony, that he didn’t tell me shit. If you want to point your finger at someone, then turn it right back on yourself because you told me earlier.” Before I even attempt to figure out the fucking riddle she’s tossing out, I down the rest of my drink and strongly consider fixing another. But now probably isn’t a good time to pass out even though it’s damn tempting.

  I put a hand to my throbbing temple and rub it wearily. I know I’ll regret it, but I ask anyway. “And how exactly did I tell on myself, Duchess?” God, women fuck with your head.

  “You said, ‘You’ll never have to fear him again,’ meaning Jeremy.” She crosses her arms over her chest, giving me a look that clearly says, ah-ha, gotcha.

  Before I can respond, Nic looks at her in confusion. “You realize that makes no sense. He could have been talking about a mouse. That’s a totally generic sentence.”

  “I second that assessment.” Mike nods without looking up.

  Jacey’s eyes are narrowed into slits now as she scowls at my friends. “Oh, I see. This is the boys’ club.” She points at each of them before scoffing. “All for one and one for all. Well, I’m impressed by this show of camaraderie, but what you’re all ignoring is that I was right.” Her scowl is more of a smirk now as she motions to Nic. “Care to explain that away, Einstein?”

  I think I’ve finally discovered what makes a grown man cry. I’m tired, frustrated, and still dealing with the shock of Caulder’s murder. The last thing I need is this sideshow playing out in my fucking living room. As a result, my voice comes out as a growl when I say, “E-fucking-nough already. Obviously, she knows. At this point, I don’t care if she read tea leaves, flipped a fucking coin, or dialed the goddamn Psychic Network.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, then continue. “Let’s move past that and go over what happened tonight.” Jacey’s face pales, and she appears to brace herself. “I didn’t touch him,” I say directly to her.

  When I pause, Nic steps in. “Someone else already had their fun. In quite an impressive way.”

  “The fucker was dead?” Marco asks in disbelief.

  “That would be correct.” Mike nods, finally appearing to actively join the conversation. “I will spare Ms. Jacey from the graphic details, but suffice to say, he had at least one more very angry enemy.”

  Marco appears stunned as I give him a nod, letting him know without
words that it was bad. “I can’t fucking believe it. That’s way too much of a coincidence. Someone knew you were after him and took him out before you could.”

  “Agreed,” Nic chimes in. “But why? What could they have to gain? Hell, if anything, they did Tony a favor. Caulder was sent to his maker, and none of us got our hands dirty. If you look at it that way, we have a fucked-up fairy god-murderer on our hands. Bastard clicks his heels together and says, ‘There’s no asshole like a dead asshole,’ or something catchy like that.”

  Did he just say that? Instead of refilling it, I push my empty glass aside. Maybe I’ve had enough. “That’s…yeah, thanks for that analogy, Nic. I would have possibly put it a little differently, but I think everyone gets the gist of it.”

  “We do?” Jacey wrinkles her nose in bewilderment.

  I almost laugh despite my irritation with pretty much everything and everyone right now when Mike attempts to explain Nic’s rambling musings to her. “Ms. Jacey, I believe what Nic is so inarticulately attempting to say is that he wonders what the person in question had to gain by removing Mr. Caulder from the picture. Because it saved us from having to deal with it. In fact, it was quite the good deed where we’re concerned. So if this is connected to the Morettis as we suspect, then we’re unsure what they’re hoping to accomplish with their elimination of the now deceased.”

  Jacey is momentarily speechless. Finally, she murmurs, “I’m not sure which explanation I prefer now. Er…thanks for your insight, Mike. It was very…detailed.”

  Enough. I’ve reached my limit for the night. Shutting down is inevitable because I can’t process any more. Clearing my throat, I say in a quiet voice that everyone in the room except for Jacey understands. “We’ll break for the night and pick this up tomorrow. Speculation is all that we have. Go home and get some sleep, then meet here for lunch. I’ll contact Lee as well. Now more than ever, we need to hold our meetings where it’s most secure.” They know my office and apartment are regularly swept for bugs and fully soundproof, so I don’t need to spell that out. “If our suspicions are correct, we’re in dangerous and uncertain waters. We cannot afford to lower our guard.”