by Hamel, B. B.
They stood and exited, one by one. Steven spared me a glance, but didn’t seem to care one way or the other about what was going on. When we were alone, Dante walked over to a side table covered in alcohol bottles and poured himself a drink. He offered me one, which I accepted. Amber lingered nearby, looking uncomfortable.
“I appreciate you clearing the room,” I said. “This isn’t the sort of thing you want too many ears hearing.”
Dante snorted. “Then we shouldn’t talk in this place at all.”
I raised an eyebrow. “We’re being overheard?”
“Recorded, probably. Don’t worry though. Vincent’s paranoid, but not stupid. I think he’s the only one with access to the footage.”
That didn’t make me feel great, but I let it slide. It stood to reason that the whole mansion was bugged one way or the other, probably by multiple different interested parties, from the Russians on down to the FBI.
“The Dusters approached me with an offer,” I said.
“And I assume you turned them down?”
“No, I accepted.”
He frowned a little and sat at the edge of the table. “Seems strange that you’d be here telling me that then.”
“You’re a reasonable, smart guy,” I said. “I’m hoping you’re smart enough to listen and think this through before killing me.”
He took a long sip then gestured. “Go on.”
I told him the story, start to finish, and told him exactly what the Dusters want. Amber shifted from foot to foot the whole time, clearly not enjoying the way Dante stared at the pair of us with a slightly annoyed expression that only got worse by the time I finished.
“At the end of our conversation, I told them I’d do it,” I said, finishing up. “As far as they’re concerned, that’s where we left it.”
“So you accepted this offer then,” he said. “But it’s strange that you’d be here telling me about it.”
“I won’t lie to you, I considered it, but Amber here talked some sense into me.”
He glanced at her with a curious look. “You’re the girl from Chicago. The one that got shot.”
She flinched. “That’s me.”
“Bad-ass you survived. Good for you.”
“Thanks, I guess.”
“Why’d you talk him out of this?”
“Honestly?” she asked.
“Go ahead, be honest.”
“I like Mona.”
He laughed. “Fair enough.”
“We came up with a better plan,” I said. “Something that’ll benefit both of us and might actually win you this war, if you play it right and get a little lucky.”
“Fill me in then, because I’ve been banging my head up against the Dusters for the last few months and haven’t gotten anywhere.”
“They think I’m on their side, which means I can play them. You give me the code to one of your warehouses—”
“No,” he said, interrupting me. “Absolutely not.”
I gestured impatiently. “You have to give them something real or else this won’t work.”
“Then this won’t work.”
“You give them a real code to one of your warehouses. I’ll spin them a story about only being able to get one. When they go to try to plunder the place, you ambush them, kill off whoever showed up, and pray that the leadership was dumb enough to be down on the ground floor.”
Dante watched me carefully. “There’s a lot that can go wrong. They might not believe you, and they might not act on your information, or they might want more first, and their leadership might just send a few goons to do the dirty work.”
“All of that’s true,” I admitted.
“So why would I risk one of our most important locations for something with so many obvious holes?”
I hesitated, but Amber spoke up before I could.
“Because you’re losing.”
Dante looked at her, surprise in his eyes. Hell, even I was a little shocked. I knew she had balls and hated the Leones, but I didn’t think she’d come out and say something like that right to Dante’s face.
“I’m not so sure about that,” he said.
“Yes, you are,” she said. “Your Don just got gunned down in the street. Now you’re scrambling while the Dusters plan their next attack. We all know what’s going to happen, sooner or later, and right now it seems like you’re doing nothing but delaying the inevitable.”
I stared at her, openly shocked, and took a big gulp, preparing for Dante to flip the fuck out. Instead, he laughed.
“Goddamn,” he said. “I like a woman with balls, but listen to you. That must’ve taken some courage.”
“No, no courage,” Amber said. “Just a whole lot of resentment.”
His laughter turned to curiosity. “I suppose that if anyone should feel resentful of the family, it’s you.”
“Glad you understand.”
He tapped a fingernail against his glass then stood and walked around behind the desk. He pulled open a drawer, and I was halfway convinced he was grabbing a weapon. Instead, he took out a cigar, clipped the end, and lit it. The pungent, thick smoke curled up as he puffed on it for a few tense, silent seconds.
“All right,” he said finally.
“All right?” I glanced at Amber then back at him. “What’s that mean?”
“It means we’ll follow through with your plan. I’ll give you a warehouse. I’ll even give you our best one, just to make it a nice, fat, juicy target. But if this all goes wrong, I’m pinning it on you.”
“Fine,” I said, laughing. “If this goes wrong, I’m fucked on both ends.”
“That you are.” Dante puffed on his cigar then gestured with it. “Get out of here. I need to think on it.”
“I wouldn’t tell any of your guys,” Amber said. “If this gets out, we’re dead.”
He eyed her. “My guys are trustworthy.”
“Even trustworthy people make stupid mistakes,” she said, staring right back.
He nodded once. “I’ll keep it as close as I can.”
“Good.” She turned and walked to the door.
I threw back my drink and put the glass down. “It’s been a pleasure, Dante.”
“Make sure you sell this,” he said. “You’re a thief, so I’m guessing you’re a good actor.”
“As good as I can be.”
“Then act, thief. And make sure they buy it all the way.”
I nodded once and followed Amber back out in the hall. We wordlessly passed the door guard and I was too busy reeling from that encounter to say anything to him. We made it midway down the hall before I caught up with Amber, grabbed her wrist, and tugged her into a side room.
She looked surprised as I shut the door and left the light off. It smelled like bleach and soap, and I guessed it was a laundry room. I pushed her against the wall and kissed her, grabbing her wrists roughly and pinning them up above her head. She sucked in a gasping breath and kissed me back, taking my lower lip between her teeth and biting gently. I kissed her neck and felt her breasts against my chest.
“You could’ve gotten us killed back there,” I said, voice soft, lips against her ear.
“We’re still here.”
“I like when you decide to get a little risky. But don’t be reckless.”
She struggled against me, but I held her there. “What do you know about reckless?”
“I know this is a game that we might not walk away from, and you just dove in head first.”
“I’m trying to get us out of this mess,” she whispered. “I hope you’re trying to do the same.”
I kissed her, bit her lip right back, then let her go. She took a few breaths, glaring at me in the dark gloom, before turning and storming back into the hallway.
I glanced back. Washing machines lined the one wall. I smiled a little to myself then followed her at a distance, heart racing, cock half-hard.
17
Amber
I found Mona the next day in one of the man
y lounges that littered the mansion. She sat curled up in front of a space heater with a book open on her lap and a pen behind her ear. She wore sweats, her hair was up in a tangled bun, and big dark circles hung below her eyes.
She looked up when I stepped into the room and smiled. “Hey, you. I was wondering when you’d find me.”
“Sorry it took so long. There are a ton of little sitting places in here, did you know that?”
She laughed. “Twelve. I counted once.”
“That’s insane.”
“I know.” She shut the book and drummed her fingers on the cover.
“What are you reading?”
“It’s a spy novel. One of those, like, classic cold war things.”
“I didn’t know you liked spies.”
“I don’t, honestly. It’s a bunch of men doing very manly things, and all the women are secretaries and typists and crap like that. But it’s still kind of fun.”
I drifted over and sat down in a chair across from her. “How’s Vincent?”
“He’s okay,” she said. “He’s surrounded by his capos right now and I couldn’t breathe with all them crammed in that little room, so I got the hell out.”
“But he’ll be fine?”
“Definitely. He’s got the best doctor in the city. Young guy, real smart.” She stretched out her legs. “I’m sorry about yesterday, calling you out there then sending you away like that. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“It’s really fine.”
“You and Ren seem thick as thieves, though.”
“Funny way of saying it.”
She grinned. “Did that on purpose.”
I looked away from her, over toward the wall. The room had a very cozy decor, with lots of wood, a thick gray rug, simple photographs on the walls, and lots of books crammed onto shelves. I found it hard to believe a mobster wanted a room like this one, but then again, there were eleven other sitting rooms to choose from, so it made sense that at least one would be a little bit more warm and inviting, and it seemed like exactly the kind of place Mona would choose.
“I’m not sure what to feel about him,” I admitted.
“You keep saying that.”
“I know, and it’s the truth.”
“There has to be a reason you’re sticking around.”
I snorted. “Your husband’s the reason.” I regretted it as soon as I said it.
But it didn’t seem to faze her. “I’m sure that’s partly true, but there’s more.”
I stood up suddenly and paced away. I picked up a book at random, flipped through some pages, then put it back. “How do you stand all this?” I asked finally. “Being with a guy like Vincent.”
“It’s not easy.”
“Then why do it?”
“Why do anything?” she asked, shrugging. “If it were easy, it wouldn’t be worth a damn. Do you know anything easy worth doing?”
“Lots of easy things are worth doing.”
“No, not really. Easy things are easy for a reason. Anyone can do them, and if anyone can do them, it has no meaning. Hard things are important, and hard things make it so that only certain people get to taste how sweet it can be.”
“So I should be with Ren because it’s hard?”
“You should be with Ren because you like him.” She watched me, smiling a little. “Being with violent men like him, it takes something from you.”
“Is that why you look so tired?”
She laughed. “I look tired because I slept in a hospital chair last night. But I take your point. Violent men have violent ends, and if you want to love a violent man then your love is going to end in violence. You can’t avoid that, as much as you want to.”
“I never wanted any of this. I was almost killed by men like him.”
“And yet here you are.” She patted the chair next to her. “Come sit with me.”
I hesitated, but walked over and sank down in the seat. She smiled and took my hand, squeezing it.
“You know what I’m jealous of?” I asked.
She shook her head. “No clue.”
“I’m jealous of your book.”
“Really?” She seemed surprised. “Why would you be jealous of that?”
“Because you have something you like to do that’s not wrapped up in all this.”
“Oh, the book’s wrapped up in all this, of course. All my work since I met Vincent has been wrapped up in this world. All my reporting, all my articles, everything.”
“Still, you have your own identity. You’re not really… you’re not a part of this, right?”
“That’s true,” she said softly. “I’m still an outsider.”
“And I’m an insider that wishes she were an outsider.”
“You should start painting again. I keep telling you.”
I shook my head and stretched. “I feel like that was a different person.”
“You don’t have to give things up every time something bad happens.”
“That’s the easy way out, right?”
“Exactly.” She grinned and patted my knee. “You’re starting to get it.”
I gave her a look. “You’re a weird one, Mona. You know that, right?”
“Oh, I know. But I’m also very delightful.”
We sat in silence for a minute or so, and I let my thought drift, before focusing back on the moment. She was right that hard things were hard for a reason, but they could be more rewarding. I’d never stuck with anything for long, and part of me thought that I’d never been given a chance. My father provided whatever I wanted while I was growing up, although he’d been pretty emotionally distant and detached, I still never wanted for material things. And then when I began to start my own life, I got shot and nearly killed—which led me to this room, this moment.
“We’re going to double-cross the Dusters,” I said, my voice sounding far away.
She frowned in surprise. “Really?”
“It was my idea. Ren’s telling everyone he came up with it, since we both agreed that it’d come out better that way. But it was my idea.”
“Interesting,” she said softly.
“I could’ve let him go along with the Dusters and we probably would have been fine. But then you would’ve been hurt, and I couldn’t let that happen.”
“Thank you,” she said, sounding sincere. “For someone that thinks she’s detached from all this, you sound like you’re involving yourself a lot.”
“It’s Ren. He asks me what I think, pushes me for ideas.”
“He treats you like you matter.”
“It’s crazy, right? That’s all it takes?”
“Sometimes that’s all you need. And it’s rare, you know, to find someone that cares about you enough to treat you like you’re important. Not a lot of people do that.”
“Depressing.”
“But true.”
“For what it’s worth, I hope Vincent’s okay.”
“Even though he’s a total bastard?”
I grinned at her. “Despite him being a bastard. But mostly for your sake.”
“You’re a good friend, you know that? I hope you stick around, but I have a feeling you won’t.”
I didn’t know what to say. She was right—as soon as I could, I planned on getting the hell out of this city and out of this life. I didn’t know what that meant for me and Ren, but I couldn’t think that deeply or that far in advance. Right now, it was one foot in front of the other.
I stood up. “I should get going. We have a lot of planning to do.”
“Have fun.”
I hesitated. I wanted to say something more, but only smiled, turned, and left the room. I felt like I’d learned something about myself in there, but I wasn’t sure exactly what yet—or maybe I wasn’t ready to look that closely. I was still afraid I’d find something that I didn’t like.
18
Ren
I found her sitting poolside staring at the placid water with a tired expression on her face. The room was
quiet otherwise, and the click of the door’s lock echoed through the space. She looked up, a hint of surprise in her eyes.
“I’ve been looking for you.”
She sat up straight. A towel was wrapped around her midsection, barely covering her breasts, and her hair was still damp. The room smelled like chlorine and the heavy humidity weighed down my clothes.
“You found me.”
I sat in the chair next to her and stretched my legs out. We lingered in a short silence and I didn’t feel the strong urge to break it—being with her was comfortable and easy. But I liked the sound of her voice.
“Did you talk to Mona?”
She shrugged a little. “For a bit. She seems like she’s doing okay.”
“That’s good.” I watched her, trying to guess at what was going on inside that head. I knew how hard this was for her, and how badly she wanted to help Mona. It was a strange contradiction, and I could hardly understand it. I’d spent my life in the underworld dealing with men that barely cared about anything but themselves. To me, it made complete sense to tell everyone else to fuck off, and to take whatever you needed. As far as I was concerned, Amber had every right to run off and leave everyone else to fend for themselves. If she told me right this second to go through with the Duster plan for real, I’d do it with a smile.
Maybe I don’t have loyalty, or maybe I never met anyone worth being loyal to, at least until now.
“I keep having this recurring daydream,” she said, her voice soft as she stared out over the water again. “Maybe it’s a recurring daymare, I’m not sure what to call it.”
“What happens?” I asked.
“I see you breaking into some room in the mansion, and one of the Leone guys is there waiting for you, and he shoots you, over and over again.”
I chuckled. “And I guess I die?”
She gave me a look. “It’s not funny.”
“I know it’s not. At least I don’t come back as a zombie and you have to cut off my head.”
“Ren.”
“It’s not going to happen,” I said, leaning toward her. “The Leone guys, they know their backs are against the wall.”
“Which makes them more dangerous.”
