by Colt, Shyla
Prophet snickers.
“We all have our phases,” I admit. The memory is a good one. I smile. The flicker of his lips immediately makes my pulse race as guilt crashes into me.
My brother is out there suffering at the hands of a maniac, and I’m laughing over my teenage years. Don’t do this.
I move toward the white picket fence and climb the small set of stairs that leads us into the building. As soon as we step inside, I lose myself in his memory. I can imagine Poe sitting at the desk, which is painted in great detail onto a poster they’ve attached to the wall. His dark head would be bent as he penned his latest with a pen he constantly dips into an inkwell.
“They really took their time and made this accurate, didn’t they? My sister was an English teacher and I know more about Poe than I ever wanted to.” He laughs.
I look over at him, stunned by his admission.
His expression closes off and he moves away from the corner, toward the stairs.
So, I’m not the only one with secrets.
We continue to wind our way through the home chasing ghosts from our past. The building with its cracked walls, crumbling plaster, and exposed wood reminds me of us. Still standing, despite being worn and warped by age and circumstance. We’re in the basement when the phone rings. I pull it out and hand it to him, knowing I’m placing Ira’s life in his hands.
“Hello,” Prophet says.
I lean forward.
“By now, I’m sure you’ve figured out she’s lost the ability to talk, I speak for her.” He meets my gaze. “He wants to make a trade, you for your brother.”
“Does he think I’m stupid?” I ask, shifting my weight as he relays my response.
“No, but he does think you love your brother.” Prophet’s eyes are full of apology.
The sound of Ira’s grunts and moans spill from the earpiece, echoing in the cavernous space. I close my eyes tight. I’d offer myself up if I didn’t know it’d only lead to both our deaths.
“Yeah, she heard it,” Prophet replies. “She also knows better than to offer herself up for a slaughter that will extend to her brother. You hold all the cards without any give. You want to negotiate? She’s open to it. But you need a better offer.” He hung up, just like I instructed him to do.
It’s all I can do to remain standing. I can’t let them think they have me by the ovaries, I know this. Regardless, it feels wrong not to plead and promise to do whatever they want, so long as they give me back my brother in one piece. My legs shake. I reach out my hand and balance my body against the wall. The sobs get trapped in my swollen throat. Choking them down, I close my eyes, riding the wave of anxiety and grief. None of this is easy. It’s a game I need to win, a role I’m playing and hope people will believe. The pressure is intense and almost immobilizing after the self-imposed hermit life I’ve been living.
I push away from the wall and stand up straight. “I think I’m ready to go back to the hotel now,” I sign. The look of pity in Prophet’s eyes pisses me off. “Don’t look at me like that. I don’t want or need your pity.”
“You need to calm down, little girl. I sympathize with you because I like Houdini and that’s a tough spot. Knowing someone you care about is hurting. I get you’re the alpha dog when we deal with your family, but that’s the only place. Don’t let that go to your head.”
“Are you threatening me?” My nostrils flare as I breathe heavily.
“No, I’m reminding you.”
“Of what?” I ask.
“Reality.”
“Trust me, I’m up to my Goddamn eyeballs in that. I’m sorry it emasculates you, taking orders from a woman.”
“No, just taking them from a bitch who doesn’t know what she’s doing, so she barks because her bite is next to nothing.”
“You’ve seen my family and you still think that?” I ask.
“Correct me if I’m mistaken. But weren’t you the one who hid away for ten years, praying they wouldn’t find you? Doesn’t sound like someone I need to be afraid of.” His tone mocks me.
His words score a direct hit. I’m moving before I can get full control of myself. The slap is an involuntary action. My hand stings.
His eyes go wide. Anger floods the blue, turning them obsidian. He grips my wrist and pulls me to him. His breath is hot against my skin.
I tense, waiting for him to respond.
His jaw ticks. “If you ever hit me again, I won’t be so nice.” He tightens his hold on my hand, and I cry out. “See… I know how damn devious and destructive women can be. So, I don’t follow that weaker sex theory. This is the one warning you’ll get from me.” He shoves me away and heads for the stairs.
I follow behind him, more lost than ever.
Who is this new Vita? The one who just slapped his face without a thought. I haven’t been back twenty-four hours, and I’m already caught up in everything Lorello. Is this who I’m destined to be?
All that running and hiding, only to end up right back where we started.
Prophet
It took everything in me not to shake the woman until her brain rattled in her cranium. I refuse to play lackey to a female again. The ride back to the hotel is silent. Once we’re in our room, I tell her I’m going to check in with Dallas and escape out onto the balcony. She presses all my buttons. It unnerves me. That temperament she brings out…isn’t the one I’ve adopted in my new lifestyle.
“You took your time contacting me.” Dallas’s voice is gravely and tense.
“It’s been a lot of power position plays happening. Them being back upsets everything. Apparently, dear old Uncle Lorenzo is a psycho who’s made a shit ton of enemies. They’re eager to topple him off the throne.”
“That works in our favor at least. You hear anything about Houdini? So far, we’ve come up with nothing. It’s like the man disappeared. Yeah, I know, pun not intended.”
“Kidnappers called, trying to make a trade. Vita for Houdini.”
Dallas scoffs. “Right, ’cause they wouldn’t just waste them both.”
“Exactly. We told them to come up with better terms and get back to us. Whatever they’re doing to Houdini though, it’s bad. I’m not sure what’ll be left to rescue if we don’t up this timetable.”
“They’re smart. They disabled his tracking. Last thing we could trace was some tiny town in Texas he must’ve been passing through. I hate waiting games.”
“Yeah, we’ll you aren’t stuck with his sister,” I grumble.
“She that bad? She seemed the shy type.”
“I thought that too until she stepped into those thousand dollar heels and turned into a ball busting harpy.”
“I imagine in their line of business she has to be.”
“Probably. But I’d appreciate if she kept that directed toward them and not me.”
“She’s rattling your cage, isn’t she? I’m shocked. It’s not like you.”
“She reminds me of someone I’d rather forget. Not to mention, it’s impossible to ignore her when she’s popping off at the mouth like a teen who needs her ass spanked.”
“Maybe that’s what you should do,” Dallas suggests.
“What?” I frown, not following him.
“Spank her ass, dick her down and relieve some tension.”
“She wishes. No way am I touching that shrew.” I’m almost offended by the suggestion. The stirring in my belly further infuriates me.
Dallas laughs. “All right. We’ll keep working on finding Houdini from this end. You keep me up to date on what’s happening there.”
“Will do, Boss.”
“Stay safe. The men you’re dealing with are ruthless.”
“I know. I’ve got my eyes open,” I promise.
“See they stay that way.”
I place the phone inside of the pocket of my suit. I miss the clubhouse and my freedom. I filleted her over hiding, but in a way, I’ve been doing the same. No one knows my background. The information died with Rule.
&n
bsp; So, why am I riding her? Because she reminds me of Jewel.
I sigh. It’s an unfair comparison. She lost everything, just like me.
How long will everyone else suffer for one woman’s mistake? How long will I?
I’m suddenly itching for a drink. The liquor keeps the memories and the guilt at bay. Immersed in liquor, women and people who know nothing about the man I was before Prophet existed, I can be halfway happy. Here, exposed and walking in Charles Rowe’s shoes, I’m uncomfortable in my skin. I resent the woman inside for that. Glancing at her through the sliding door I catch sight of my reflection. The last time I looked this nice I was in court. The memory pops into my mind unexpectedly…
…I sit in the front row, still dazed. She sits behind the massive desk, pristine in her little black dress. Her golden hair still shines and her blue eyes are just as big and round as they were the day we met. Her looks hold no lure for me now. I know what lies behind them. The Cupid’s bow lips that tremble, spill lies like the clouds release rain.
Tap, tap, tap.
Glancing up, I see Vita gesturing for me to come inside. I shake off the remembrances, ready to bury myself in someone else’s mess.
“My aunt called. We’re on for the takeover.”
“What does that mean, exactly?” I ask.
“We prepare to go to war. They’re coming in from Italy; we rally the troops here. Keep the loyal or completely ruled by fear out of the loop.”
“And Houdini?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “We’re seeing what we can round up information-wise, but if we tip them off…” The color rushes from her face.
I finish her sentence in my head…then her brother is as good as dead. “So, what do we do?”
She runs her fingers through her hair. “I hate to say wait, but it is a waiting game. It’s all about stealth and numbers. I’m sure I’ll be meeting with many people as they come in. They’re staggering their arrivals. Different places, as incognito as possible.” She shrugs.
“But you’re still worried.” I observe.
“Very. They haven’t called back.”
I immediately know she’s talking about the kidnappers and not her family. “Yet,” I add.
She shakes her head. “If it wasn’t for his screams, I wouldn’t even know if he was alive. Here I am, steering the ship meant to be under his command, like some kind of female Don.” Her lip curls up.
“It’s not what you wanted?”
“Are you seriously asking me that?”
“It’s a lot of money and power,” I say, watching her face carefully for signs of a monster lurking beneath.
“That’s meaningless without family.”
The anger in her face makes me almost believe her.
She huffs. “One thing we need to do is prepare. In my family, the phrase ‘dress for success’ is taken literally. We need to restock our wardrobe.”
“Are you serious? You want to go shopping right now?”
“And get our hair done. We need to be polished. We’re on display right now. We have something to prove. I’ll be damned if anything falls through because we look less than acceptable.”
“My God, how did you live like this?” I ask, shaking my head. I haven’t been in it twenty-four hours and I’m ready to scream.
“It was all I knew, and it wasn’t that bad. Until it was life threatening, anyway.” She shakes her head. “This seems petty to you, but we’re old school. Old world. You dress up, show up, and never let them see you sweat. You wield your power with responsibility and sensitivity.”
“How is that even possible?”
“You take care of people, but never let them disrespect you. It’s a careful balance,” she answers.
“Sounds impossible,” I muse.
“At times, it would seem that way. When you get a good man in power, you want him to stay there because the next guy might be like—”
“Lorenzo?”
She flinches at the name. “Yes.”
I heave a sigh. “Fine, let’s go.”
* * *
It’s pushing midnight, and I’m trussed up in another suit, sitting in the back of a crowded Italian restaurant.
Could we get more cliché?
One of them owns a restaurant chain. They opened this one up, and people have been arriving every thirty minutes or so, since about ten. I sit to the right of Vita and act as a translator. Hugs and kisses have been given, but I know that could easily be a façade. The mood is a strange mixture of somberness and joy. What we’re about to do is nothing they take lightly. It’s in every line of their faces and the serious expressions in their eyes. We’re waiting for one more family, the Fortunas, to make the drive in from the airport. It’s clear they’re old world. From their smart outfits, to shiny shoes and chunky jewelry. I’d lost track of names ages ago. They all blurred together.
“Are you okay?” Vita asks.
I quirk an eyebrow, stunned by her concern. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”
She shrugs. “It’s like a surreal dream. I never thought I’d see any of these people again, and my memories of them are old. So, those who I envision as teens are now adults and the middle-aged people, are much older. This life wears on some. It’s sad to see the ones it’s taken a toll on.”
“I can’t imagine you sleep well.”
She snorts. “Not with Lorenzo in charge.”
Rapping comes at the front door. The room grows silent. Tension mounts.
Why is this family so important?
Vita stiffens beside me. I want to ask her questions, but the flurry of motion and my stubbornness prevents me. I can’t get too invested in this girl. Once I satisfy the club’s demands, I’m gone and she’s back to being nothing more than the sister of one of my brothers.
Chairs push back and everyone stands.
I follow suit.
The crowd parts like pins pushed aside by a well-aimed bowling ball. A group of men walk in. A wiry man with a shock of white hair, rectangular spectacles, olive skin, and an old-fashioned white hat complete with a crease in the middle, seemed to be the one everyone’s attention lay on. His white linen suit with a navy blue tie is flawless along with his white loafers. Flanking him are two broad-shouldered men who favor him in the face. Their hair looks thicker, darker, and I would place them in their mid-thirties.
“Bellissima. My Elisa has returned home.” He holds out his hands.
Vita rises and walks over to him slowly. She takes his hand and gives a small curtsey.
“I understand they stole your voice that day. But I can tell by the fire in your eyes, so like your mother’s, you will not be silenced.”
Vita stood to her full height and bobbed her head in agreement.
“I understand you have a translator?” He pierces me with his shrewd brown eyes.
I feel frozen to the spot. With one look, he peered inside me and unearthed all my secrets. I walk over and bow slightly.
If he thinks I’m going to kiss the ring on his finger, he’s mistaken.
“Yes, sir, I’m Charles.” I don’t offer a last name and he doesn’t react. I see a spark of something in his eyes.
No, I’m not a dumb lackey.
“Do you know who I am?” He arches a snowy eyebrow.
“No, sir, I can’t say I do.”
His eyes widen. “Yet, you are here risking life and limb?” He leans back and studies me.
I feel like a creature on a slide in a lab. “For Vita and her brother.” Mostly her brother.
“Ahh, this is about family then. You have formed a new family while you were gone?” He directs the question to Vita.
She nods.
“Charles, you may call me Giancarlo.”
You could hear a pin drop in the place. I think he just handed me down an honor. Unsure how to respond I look to Vita. “I thank you, and so does Vita.”
“Vita? This is your new name?” Giancarlo’s voice is gentle as he speaks to her and holds her hands
in his.
“She says she’s no longer the same person.”
Sadness fills the older man’s eyes. “Yes, I can see that. But what does not kill us generally makes us stronger, no?” Giancarlo looks past her to the crowd. “This is why I am here tonight. Because I do not want to see any more happy, healthy families cut down in their prime. The potential wasted that night still sickens me.” He scowls and shakes his head. “This has never been our way. Lorenzo has turned the Lorello family into a twisted, unreliable laughingstock. I sat back. It wasn’t my place to try to change that, not when you all cowered and bowed to him. Now, you come to me with the rightful heirs to the family and some balls.” He inclines his head and shrugs.
The gesture reminds me of Robert Dinero.
“So, I say yes. But we do it my way. You say he has your brother, Matteo?”
“Yes, sir,” I answer.
“Then we need to move fast and strike hard. Have we dug anything up about his whereabouts or contracts?” Giancarolo moves to the table in the back.
Then…just like that, the air turns light. We’re all in this together, bound by a single purpose, to overthrow Lorenzo and get Houdini back. Giancarlo is a general heading into a war-room. The doors have been locked. The blinds are drawn and once again everyone is seated.
“We have one shot at this. I’ve gathered my connections here. They await my words. Who’s working on locating Matteo? He is the one that can sway those on the fence.”
Vita releases a shaky sigh. So far, Wesson has come up with zip. We’re trying to make sure the leak didn’t come from our own end. Did he always know where Houdini was, or was it happenstance? Little goes down by chance in our world. If it’s an in-house problem, it’ll be settled in-house. But after the flush we had with Sampson, it doesn’t seem likely.
“What was your brother doing in New Mexico?” Giancarlo asks.
Vita looks at me and I nod my head.
Dallas knew it might come to this. He wants to keep things open and honest. Last thing you want is people with this kind of power feeling deceived, or disrespected. That would mean trouble we can’t handle. We’re still trying to pull ourselves together. Dallas has done a lot toward stabilizing the situation. People trust him. He knows how to be stern when he needs to be, and chill when he doesn’t.
