by Cora Reilly
I pulled the rest of the money Cheryl had leant me from my pocket. I still had fifty dollars left. Not much. But they could turn into more.
I grabbed my backpack again and headed back out, glad for the silence in the bedroom. If I had to listen to my mother doing that old bastard, I’d lose it.
Cheryl’s face fell when I walked into the bar. She dropped what she’d been doing and staggered toward me, ignoring a few customers waving at her to serve them. Mel took over quickly. Cheryl gripped my arm and pulled me behind the bar. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be gone by now?”
“Fabiano caught me,” I said quietly. I didn’t need people to overhear. I could tell from the looks people were giving me that they were already talking about me because of what happened to my father.
“Oh fuck.” She sighed. “I told you.”
“I know.”
“You know, if he doesn’t let you leave, perhaps you need to beat him with his own weapons. Go along, let him have fun, give him what he wants until he doesn’t want it anymore. Can’t be that hard?”
I looked away.
“Or is he some kind of sadistic bastard in the bedroom too?”
I didn’t say anything. I knew Fabiano wouldn’t appreciate me talking about these kinds of things. For some reason I didn’t want to betray his trust, and I was uncomfortable talking about them. Because no matter what he’d said during our last encounter, he had showed a gentler side when he was with me, a side he didn’t want people to know about.
Sleeping with Fabiano didn’t scare me for the reasons Cheryl suspected. He had been a far cry from sadistic in the bedroom.
“I’ll give you your money back as soon as Roger pays me, okay?” I told her.
She shrugged. “I don’t care about the money. I wish it would have helped you.”
I smiled. I’d never forget that she’d been willing to help me. “Where is Griffin?”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Don’t go down that road. It’s a slippery one. You saw where it got your father.”
She didn’t have to tell me. I remembered what had happened to my father, had relived it in vivid color repeatedly. But after what Mom had told me today, I wasn’t broken up over his death anymore. At least not because he was gone. I only wished I didn’t have to see Fabiano do what he’d done. “I know what addiction does to people, and I have no intention of making betting a habit, believe me.”
“Nobody ever does.” She shrugged. “He’s in the booth behind the cage.”
“Thanks,” I said, then made my way to Griffin. He sat with his gaze glued to his iPad while he pushed fork after fork of fries into his mouth. I sank down on the bench across from him. He looked up, then back down. “I don’t need anything.”
“I’m not here to serve you,” I said quickly.
I pushed the fifty dollars over to him. “I want to bet against Boulder.”
Griffin raised one grey eyebrow, then nodded. Boulder had won every fight in the last couple of weeks. He was rumored to be Fabiano’s next opponent, if he won tonight. And everyone was certain he would win tonight.
“That’s 1 to twenty,” he said calmly.
So much money. “Can I bet money I don’t have?”
“You can get a credit from us and use it for your bet,” Griffin said, then pointed at my wrist. “Or you could put that down for a bet. I’d give you five hundred.”
“It’s worth much more,” I muttered.
He shrugged. “Then sell it somewhere else.”
I fingered the delicate gold chain. “It’s not for sale.” Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. For some silly reason I didn’t have the heart to sell Fabiano’s gift.
“Just give me two hundred as a credit.” Indebting myself to the Camorra, what a day. Boulder would have to lose tonight. Then Mom would be free, and Fabiano wouldn’t be able to hold her debt against me anymore.
I had to look a second time, unable to believe my eyes. Leona was handing over money to Griffin, our bookie. I’d only come to Roger’s arena to see if Leona had already returned to work and to watch Boulder’s fight later. I stalked toward them. “What’s going on here?”
Griffin nodded a greeting at me. “Earning money like I’m supposed to.”
Leona gave me an indignant look.
“How much did she bet?”
“Fifty in cash and two hundred in advance against Boulder.”
I shot her a look. Boulder was one of the best. He came directly after me and the Falcone brothers. He wouldn’t lose his fight. “She’s not betting,” I ordered.
Griffin hesitated with his fingers against his iPad, finally looking up to me. A frown drew his grey brows together.
“I am,” Leona interrupted. “My money is as good as anyone’s.”
People around were starting to stare. I grabbed her by the arm and pulled her up from the leather booth and away from Griffin.
“Does that mean the bet is still on?” he shouted. That was why Remo liked him. He was always focused on the job at hand, never one to be distracted.
“Yes,” Leona shouted in reply.
I dragged her toward the back and then downstairs into the storage room, seething. Only when the door fell shut behind us, did I let go of her. “Have you lost your fucking mind?”
“I need money to pay my mother’s debts to you off, remember?” she muttered. I staggered toward her, backing her into the wall. She was driving me insane. “And you think you can do that by making new debts? Boulder is going to win and you’ll lose not only the fifty you handed over but you’ll be indebted with two hundred more. I don’t think you have them, and soon they’ll be twice as much.”
She gave me a ‘so-what’ look. “I know what it means to be indebted to the Camorra.” For the first time, she rolled the ‘r’s the same way I did. “I saw what it means to be indebted to your Capo.”
I pressed my palms against the wall beside her head, glaring down at her. “You have seen what it means to be indebted to Remo, but you have never felt what it means to be indebted to us. There’s a world of a difference between those two scenarios.”
She smiled joylessly. No. So wrong on her freckled face. These smiles were for others. Not for her. “And who’s going to make me feel what it means? Who’s going to remind me of my debts? Who’s Falcone going to send to do his dirty work? Who will he send to break my fingers or take me back to that basement?”
I didn’t say anything.
“Who will be the one to make me bleed and beg, Fabiano? Who?”
She shook her head, looking crushed. “You are his Enforcer. His bloody hand. You are the one I have to fear, right?”
She straightened her spine and reached for the knife in my chest holster. I let her do it. She held my gaze as she pulled it out. “Who’s going to pierce my skin with this knife? Who’s going to draw my blood with this blade?”
She pressed the tip of the knife against my chest. “Who?” The word was a mere whisper.
I leaned closer, even as the blade cut through my shirt and skin. Leona drew it back but I moved even closer. “I hope you’ll never find out,” I murmured. “Because it sure as hell won’t be me, Leona.”
She exhaled and I crashed my lips against hers, my tongue demanding entrance. And she opened up, kissing me back almost angrily. The knife fell to the ground with a clatter as I slipped my hand between us and into her panties until I found her hot center, already wet. I stroked my fingers over her clit, making her gasp into my mouth. I slid my finger into her tight heat. So fucking hot.
She tensed at the foreign intrusion but softened around me as I pressed the heel of my palm against her bundle of nerves. I finger-fucked her slowly, allowing her to grow used to the sensation. “I don’t want to see you placing a bet ever again. You hear me? And no other messed up ways of earning money either. I won’t always be able to protect you.”
She huffed, her eyes glazed over with pleasure as I pumped into her slowly with my finger. “And how am I supposed to pay back my mother�
�s debt? Or perhaps you don’t want me to so you can blackmail me with it?” Her voice was shaky with desire. The sexiest sound in the world.
I stroked my knuckles over her side up to her breast and brushed her nipple through her shirt, feeling her shiver against my touch. She was getting close. “This is a good start.” I was teasing her.
She flinched away, forcing me to pull my finger away. “No,” she hissed like a wounded animal. “I told you no, and that stands. You said it yourself: I’m not worth your time. I’m nothing, remember?”
I shook my head. “You aren’t nothing.” If she were, Remo wouldn’t be breathing down my neck.
“What am I then, Fabiano?”
I leaned down and kissed her slowly, letting her scent and taste engulf my senses, before I drew back. Her cheeks were flushed. “You are mine.”
I stepped back, turned around and left her alone in the storage room.
“You are mine.”
I watched him leave, stunned. For a moment, he’d looked at me like I was inexplicably precious.
Was this about more than him wanting to own me?
Don’t be stupid.
He was a killer. A monster. He was Falcone’s right hand man. He was his Enforcer.
I shuddered at the idea of what he did to people on Falcone’s orders. He wasn’t the cute guy I’d taken him for the first time I’d seen him. How could I have ever taken him for anything other than a killer? Fabiano was many things, but cute or kind weren’t among them. And yet I had fallen for him. What did that say about me?
This city was rotten, corrupt and brutal. The devil had his claws sunk deeply into Vegas’ soil and he wasn’t letting go. If I wanted to survive in this city, I had to play dirty like anyone else. I glanced down at my watch. Three hours until the final match, until Boulder would have to earn me my money back. Fabiano had said it himself: he couldn’t always protect me and I didn’t want him to. I needed to take things into my own hands. Something on the ground caught my eye. Fabiano’s knife. I picked it up.
I quickly rushed back up the stairs, searching the bar for a sign of Fabiano but he was gone. Relieved, I hurried toward Cheryl. “I need to leave for a while. I’ll be back soon.”
“Hey!” she called after me but I was already on my way out.
I returned one hour later with a few of my mother’s pills in my pocket. They were the ones she took when she couldn’t get her hands on meth. They made her dizzy and her heart beating like bush drums in her chest. I hoped they’d do the same to Boulder.
* * *
My nerves were frayed as the second to last fight started. I hadn’t seen Boulder yet. And if he didn’t show up early for his fight, I wouldn’t be able to hand him the bottle of water I’d prepared for him.
“What’s the matter with you tonight?” Cheryl took the glass with beer from my hand. The foam head had dwindled. She tossed it into the sink, then drew a new one and gave it to the man at the end of the bar counter.
And then the barrel-chested, bald man known as Boulder finally entered the bar and made his way toward the changing room. I took the bottle from the backpack beneath the bar and another, untouched one for his opponent before I followed slowly. I glanced around myself before I knocked at the door. People were occupied with the fight.
No sound came from inside, but I pushed the handle down and stepped in.
Boulder was sitting on the bench, staring down at the floor in concentration. He looked up and I held the bottle out for him. He didn’t take it, only nodded to the bench beside him. I was about to put it there when I noticed the white substance that had gathered at the bottom of the bottle. I gave it a quick shake, then set it down beside him.
I waited a moment, but he didn’t move to take it. His opponent came out of the toilet and I handed him the other bottle.
I turned and left. I couldn’t stand by. I always brought the fighters water but I didn’t hover to see them drink it. When I slipped out, I released a nervous breath, then quickly went behind the bar before someone noticed something was off.
When Boulder emerged for his fight, he was holding the bottle in his hand. If he didn’t drink it, I’d have dug myself a deeper hole. He climbed into the ring and raised the bottle, then spilled some of the liquid over his head.
I held my breath and only released it, when finally he lifted the bottle to his lips and emptied it.
It took a while for the pills to take effect, and the change was subtle. I hoped subtle enough that no one would suspect anything. It merely looked as if he was lacking concentration and occasionally as if he was dazed, which could be explained by the hits his opponent had landed against his head.
When Boulder went down, and eventually surrendered, I could have died from relief. I waited for the uproar to settle down and most of the guests to leave before I approached Griffin in a moment of quiet. He handed me five thousand dollars, and the feel of the crisp bills soothed my nerves. “This is your lucky day, I suppose,” he said.
I nodded, suddenly terrified that he might get suspicious. I turned and left before someone else saw me with Griffin.
I grabbed my backpack, stuffed the money inside and headed for the backdoor. What if this had been a huge mistake? If someone found out, I’d be doomed.
Fabiano would be waiting for me in the parking lot and I didn’t want to face him now, not until I was sure I could convincingly lie about today.
I stepped through the backdoor and breathed in the cold night air, trying to stifle my panic. I shouldn’t have done it.
“Funny coincidence,” said someone behind me.
I whirled around to find Soto a few steps behind me.
“You won quite a bit of money today.”
My hand on the backpack tightened. I still had Fabiano knife buried inside somewhere, but I remembered how little it had helped me against Fabiano. Soto wasn’t Fabiano. I had never seen him fight, but I suspected he had more practice handling knives than I did.
He moved closer. “Makes me wonder how you got so lucky. I’m sure Remo will wonder about it too if I tell him.”
I reached inside my backpack, then drew the knife.
He laughed. “Ever since the basement, I couldn’t stop imagining how it would be to bury my cock in your pussy. It’s a pity that Fabiano got the honor of handling you.”
“Don’t come closer, or I’m going to—”
“Kill me?” He leered.
“Soto.” Fabiano’s voice sliced through the dim light of the back street. I turned slowly. Fabiano was stalking toward us. His tall form blended in with the darkness, dressed in a black shirt and black slacks.
Soto had his hand on the gun in the holster around his waist, his narrowed eyes on Fabiano. “I saw her bring Boulder water before the fight, and he loses.”
“She’s a waitress, Soto. She serves everyone drinks. She served me water before my fights too,” Fabiano said condescendingly as he positioned himself between Soto and me.
“She served you more than that from what I hear. She bet money against him and he lost. Remo won’t believe it a coincidence. Remo will love that. Apparently you didn’t do a good job in the basement fucking some sense into her. This time I’ll make sure Remo let’s me handle it. And he will after your fuck up.”
“You are probably right,” Fabiano said slowly, eyes on me. I couldn’t look away. His eyes were burning with emotion. “He will let you handle her.” He held his gun in his hand, but Soto couldn’t see it.
I didn’t say anything.
He put a silencer on the barrel with practiced ease.
Heaven help me. I’d let him kill a man for me. Again. But this time I could have stopped him.
Fabiano held my gaze as if he waited for me to protest. I didn’t.
Then he whirled around and pulled the trigger. Soto’s head was shoved backwards by the force, and then he tumbled to the ground. I stared at his unmoving form. I didn’t feel anything. No regret. No relief. No triumph either. Nothing.
Fab
iano dismantled the silencer from the gun and returned both to the holster around his chest, then he walked up to me, took the knife from my shaking hands before he touched a palm to my cheek. I looked up at him. “You killed him.”
He killed one of Remo’s men. Another Camorrista. For me.
“I promised I’d protect you and I will honor my promise no matter the price.”
The words hung between us.
“Leave. Go to my apartment and wait there for me. Take a taxi.”
He held out his keys. I took them without a word of protest. He released me and I moved back slowly. “What are you going to do?”
“I’ll handle this,” he said, frowning down at the dead body.
I swallowed, then turned on my heel and hurried toward the main road to catch a cab. I had to trust in Fabiano to handle this, to get us out of the mess I’d caused.
It felt strange entering his apartment without him. My body was shaking with adrenaline as I walked up the stairs to the bedroom. Fabiano had killed for me. And I had let him. I could have warned Soto. A word of warning, that’s all it would have taken. I had remained silent. But there was no guilt.
Why wasn’t there any guilt?
You’re finally playing by their rules, Leona. That’s why.
I took a long hot shower to calm my frayed nerves. When I returned into the bedroom dressed in one of Fabiano’s crisp white shirts, almost one hour had passed. I’d hoped Fabiano would be here by now.
Worry twisted my stomach. What if something had gone wrong? What if someone had seen us and alerted Remo?
I felt dizzy with anxiety as I sank down on the bed. My eyes stayed on the clock on the nightstand, watching one minute after the other pass, and wondering why I needed Fabiano to return safely to me.
Betrayal.
I broke Omertà by killing a fellow Camorrista.
For Leona.
I considered my options as I stared down at Soto’s body. I could, of course, make him disappear. Nobody would miss him, least of all his cowering wife. But Remo might be reluctant to believe that Soto deserted. After all, the man had been loyal.
