by Rose Harper
TABLE OF CONTENTS
TABLE OF CONTENTS
GIVE ME FREE BOOKS
COPYRIGHT
SYNOPSIS
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
THANK YOU
PLAYLIST
COMING SOON
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COPYRIGHT
Copyright © 2018 by Rose Harper, All Rights Reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations within critical reviews and otherwise as permitted by copyright law.
NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination.
Any resemblance to real life is purely coincidental. All characters in this story are 18 or older.
Copyright © 2018, Rose Harper Publishing. All rights reserved. www.authorroseharper.wixsite.com/books/
Edited by Mitzi Pummer Carroll
Mitzi Carroll: Editor
Proofread by Marisa Nichols
Marisa Nichols: Proofreader
Cover Art by Mae’s Wicked Grafix
Mae’s Wicked Grafix
SYNOPSIS
I once was lost, but now I’m found.
The name's Carina Ricci and Mateo belongs to me.
He thinks he’s the leader, but he’s blind to what I see.
He’s just a pawn in this sick and twisted game.
As of right now, things are still tame.
I was promised to him since birth,
But what he doesn’t know is this …
I’m crazy.
The level of crazy everyone fears and my sights are set on him.
The secrets, lies, and blood I’ve shed,
Make the psychopath buzz in my head.
He’s my king, and I’m his queen.
He’ll shiver when he sees the things I’ve seen.
Yet, what I didn’t expect is to be caught in this, too.
The game we are playing is starting anew.
The enemy is now becoming a friend.
I think we’re all going to die when it finally ends.
Blood and Secrets:2
The Calvetti Crime Family
1
MATEO
If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s being told what I should or shouldn’t do. I know he deserves respect because he led this familia before me, but enough is enough. I’m the leader now. I call the shots and deal with the aftermath. Not him.
“Do you have any idea the shit you have brought onto this familia? The deals I had in place that are now treading on cracked glass because of you?”
That’s all he fucking cares about. Those goddamn deals. The same ones that will no longer be in place if I have anything to say about it. So, in hindsight, I couldn’t give two shits if those deals go down the drain. It’s not like I wanted them anyway. I have another direction for this familia, and it’s not something that will keep our name in the damn dark ages.
Sighing, I pinch the bridge of my nose to stave off an impending headache. Ever since my father found out about the other night between Camille and me, it's all I hear. My father repeats himself over and over about how much of a screw-up I am, and I'm so tired of hearing it. I’m tired of dealing with his old ass when I don’t have to.
He's always been more worried about the bridges burned by our familia than he is over fixing situations on the home fronts. His connections. His people.
His. His. His.
None of this goddamn shit is his anymore. He left that in the past when he handed down the familia business to me. He took his part of the inheritance left by my grandfather and ran like a cowered with his tail tucked between his legs.
I know he has influence. There are people still part of this circuit that trust him as the head of this familia and not me, but Jesus Christ … enough is enough. He is nothing anymore. Not a goddamn thing to anyone and I’m sick and tired of his bullshit antics. Instead of worrying about the most important things, he worries about the shit that isn’t worth our time.
It was the same thing when our mother died. He didn’t even mourn the loss of her. He was out there, getting right back to his deals, putting his familia even more over their heads.
“Pop, we need to worry about everything that directly surrounds us. I couldn’t give two shits about the bridges burning right now because they’re not directly relevant to the situation. My only focus is the girl I’m being saddled with because of this familia. Were you even going to tell me who she was?” I ask, barely keeping my anger at bay.
“What are you talking about now?” he seethes, turning to face me.
It’s hard keeping my temper at bay when I know someone is knowingly dodging me. It’s even harder to keep it together when it’s my own father trying to give me the slip. I feel so much rage simmering just underneath the surface, it’s begging to unleash on someone.
“Don’t play dumb with me,” I growl, slapping my hand down on my desk. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. When were you going to tell me she wasn’t training to be a wife, but she’s been training since before she could walk how to kill a man?” Jumping up from my seat, I bellow with as much fury as I can, “When were you going to tell me that she was the connection all along—that she’s the Reap?”
“The only person here playing dumb is you if you let these contacts slip through your fingers,” he says, leveling me with a glare. “I didn’t spend a majority of my adult life solidifying these contacts just for you to piss them all away. You don’t deserve any of this, Mateo. You are here because I want you to be here. You better remember that.”
What the hell is he talking about? I’m only here because he wants me to be? What the holy hell does that even mean? I’m here because I’m the oldest and I’ve been training for this position since I could walk my diaper clad ass around the house.
“It’s as if you’re trying to piss me off, Pop. I. Don’t. Give. A. Shit. About. Your. Connections. What I want to know is why you solidified our marriage pact when you knew all along she was Reap!”
My father’s anger simmers just below the surface, as his eyes blaze back at mine. If he thinks I’m going to stand down from this, he’s sorely mistaken. I refuse to stand down to anyone, least of all him. He may be my father, and a former dom of this familia, but that’s it. That’s where it ends. He doesn’t give orders, and my men sure as shit doesn’t take them from him anymore.
A brief knock at the door breaks our connection as Adriano pushes the door open for my other brothers to enter the room. Running my hands through my hair, I bite back whatever curse tickling the end of my tongue as I take a seat once more behind my desk. Straightening my clothing, I clear my throat while attempting to quie
t the thunderous beating of my heart.
I can honestly say there has never been a time when I was this upset with anyone. Yes, I get murderous at times when people don’t give me what I want when I want it. But, I can honestly say, this is the first time when a member of my familia has pushed me to the edge to take their life.
He may be my father, but the ties have been cut. He knowingly did this to me—to our familia. He thinks he’s slick, but I can see the exact game he’s trying to play. And I can tell you now, he won’t win.
“Hello, Lucio, my boy,” my father boasts, slapping him on the back with a sinister smile on his face.
“Oh, and what am I, chopped liver?” Gavino asks, stepping through the door.
“You’re chopped something,” my father whispers low.
He thinks no one can hear him, but I do. I would like to say that is a new thing when it comes to our father, but it’s not. He’s always been that way—even when we were little. Lucio got all of our father’s affections when he was there to give it to us, and Gavino, Giovanni, Vinny, and myself were left to pick up what was left. The only person who cared for us was our mother, and she’s been gone a really long time.
“Watch it,” I threaten, narrowing my eyes at him.
He may think he can get away with that shit here, but he has another thing coming. I refuse to have him degrade my brothers in front of me. He can call me all he likes, but I will not allow him to do that to Gavino—the one person who’s been through more than any of us.
“Okay, this is awkward,” Dom says, eyeballing all of us.
“Tell me about it,” Giovanni inserts, bumping his shoulder against Dom’s. “What did you need, boss?”
“This is—” my father starts, before I slash my hand, interrupting him.
“If you haven’t forgotten your place, it’s sitting down in a chair. Silently, I might add. The only reason you are here is because we need to get to the bottom of this situation and since you put all this into play almost two decades ago, we need to know your side of the story.”
“What might that be?” Dom asks.
“How far have we gotten with Marco and Carina? I know they’re connected somehow. I just need to know how.”
“Who the fuck is Marco?” my father asks, sitting straighter in his seat as he casts a glance over to Adriano who’s getting paler by the second. It’s apparent my father doesn’t know who he is, but it seems Adriano knows a great deal he hasn’t told his old friend.
“What do you know of Marco?”
Shaking his head, his eyes jump back to mine. I can see something hidden in his gaze, but I can’t quite make it out. Is it anger? Fear? Need for revenge? The onslaught of emotions is flicking over his features too fast for me to comprehend.
“I just heard about it through your father’s connections. You know, the ones you so loathe.”
“If I’m going to clear anything up, Adriano, I’ll need to know everything,” I reply, readying myself for the worst.
“You don’t want to go down this road, Mateo,” he retorts. “A past like that is better left buried.”
2
CARINA
Ten-Years-Old
We have been here for hours trying to hone my shooting skills, and we’ve gotten nowhere. All he ever worries about is training. Evening, noon, and night—it’s all we ever do.
I get so tired of it sometimes. So tired of the pain, anger, and destruction he wants me to embrace. It’s not me; never has been.
Instead, I want what every other ten-year-old wants—to be free and have fun with kids my own age.
“Why can’t you do anything fucking right?!” my father yells at the top of his lungs. “We’ve been at this for hours, and you’re still just as useless as when we started!” He runs his fingers through his hair, pulling a few strands loose in exasperation.
Why can’t he just let me be? I don’t want to do this, don’t want to get caught up in all of his mess. Dammit, I just want to be a kid again.
Yet, I know that’s never going to happen. I’ll never be able to do what I want when I want. No one, except my familia, is allowed to know I exist. It’s just part of the package, apparently. And everyone who does know I exist has been paid handsomely to keep their trap shut about who I am, all courtesy of Mr. Calvetti. The man I’ve yet to meet, and I’m not sure I want to at this point.
Last night, I was talking on the phone to my brother after our father went to bed. Our father doesn’t like for me and Luca to talk. He says Luca will give me all the wrong ideas and I need to stay steadfast in my mission. What mission that is, I have no idea, but Luca is my brother—the only person who’s ever nice to me even though it’s through a phone call. I can’t give him up.
I know my father would kill me if he knew I was reaching to the outside world, least of all to Luca, but I needed to talk to someone. Needed to get things off my chest, and the only person who ever seems to listen to me is my brother. So, I embraced the knowledge that if my father found me on the phone, I’d get in trouble and would take my punishment with honor.
I took the chance, just like I do many nights, and cuddled in the corner to talk to Luca. I was telling him about how I don’t want to train anymore. Telling him I wish people knew me so I could be a regular kid, wanting to join the softball team at our local school so I could make some friends. We talked until late into the night, each whispering our dreams and aspirations with the other until the battery went dead in the cell and I had to place it back through the storm window in the basement.
It’ll never happen, though. I’ll never be able to get out of here. Father always likes keeping me his secret and says I don’t have time for such frivolous activities when I’m meant for something more important. That I need to brush up on my skills, focus on the job ahead of me. Not to mention if he ever found out I was contacting my brother, he would go crazy. Luca is supposed to be dead to me.
That’s a whole other can of worms, my brother. He left when I was four and never came back. My father was pissed beyond all reason. He took it out on me, throwing me into the basement and leaving me there until he had what he called an “epiphany”—whatever that means. That day, I started training. I was weak, hungry, and dirty, but my father wouldn’t take no for an answer.
I was to be my brother’s new replacement, and a force to be reckoned with.
I often call my brother on the phone when I can. Even though he left me here, I love him—more than life itself. Lately, it seems like he’s the only thing keeping me grounded in this messed-up life.
He calls and sends texts just to make me smile. He tells me all this will be over soon, and that he has a plan for us. The sound of affection exuding from his words causes a smile to break my normally stoic mask every time. No matter how hard I try to keep my face blank of anything, I’ll always have a place in my heart for my brother.
But I dare not smile while in the presence of my father. The last time I did, he went ballistic. Screaming that if I’m going to be what he wants me to be, then I shouldn’t show even the slightest hint of emotions. That I don’t need to disappoint him, or he will find a way to deal with my emotional leak.
That’s all I am to my father. An emotional leak he’ll do absolutely anything to fix.
Blinding pain rips me from my thoughts, right before I notice I’m falling to the floor. I land with a teeth-jarring thud, reaching up instinctually with the cuff of my sleeve to wipe away the blood starting to drip from my lip.
I wipe across a split, wincing as pain slices through me. Taking my finger, I prod the tender spot while looking up from the ground. Staring mutely at the man looming over me, looking three seconds away from murder with the rage filling his eyes, I remain silent and ready myself for anything he’s about to give me for my impudence.
“What have I told you about getting lost in your thoughts? I swear, one of these days, girl, I’m going to get tired of cutting you slack and start taking your fuck ups out of your ass. Here I am, trying to te
ach you something and you can’t even pay attention. Instead, your brain’s floating off in la-la land,” he says, shaking his head like I’m a big waste of his time.
Crying, allowing the tears to drip off the tips of my lashes, I whisper, “I’m sorry, Daddy. I’m just tired. I didn’t sleep well last night. I’ll try harder next time,” I tell him, knowing that there won’t be a next time if we have anything to say about it—my brother and me.
That’s right, there won’t be a next time because my brother and I have worked it out. He ran away when he was fourteen, and that’s exactly what I plan to do tonight. I can’t live like this anymore.
Luca says he’ll take me somewhere our father will never find us, and that I will always be safe and never have to worry again. Just the thought of never worrying about what our father will do is incentive enough to run. It teases me with the thought of having a life I’ve yearned for since before I can remember.
I believe him because he’s always been there for me. A shoulder to cry on, and a number to dial in case I need help. I know if I ever needed him, he would come through for me. But until now, I didn’t need it. I didn’t feel the need to get away from him. However, steadily our father is becoming more forceful with his training. He’s working me to the bone day in and day out. He refuses to “fuck up again” as he says and will do right by my training this time.
Looking up, I see the sun just now dropping below the horizon. I can’t stop the gleeful feeling from spearing through me as I take in the hue of orange, pinks, and purples dotting the eastern sky. It’s finally quitting time. It’s finally time to start our plan for me to leave here and never return.
My father will surely send me to my room now as punishment for disappointing him, and that’s the catalyst I’m waiting on. He always hates when I get stuff wrong, and when I cry. I know he will make me go to bed without dinner, just as he has many times before, but the thought of leaving here is more appealing than any morsel of food I can ingest. I can smell the first strings of freedom, and I’m chomping at the bit for more.
