Oh, yeah, it’s my game now.
I rake a hand through my hair, my brain now fizzling with ideas as if I’ve just been injected with some serious caffeine.
I stop in front of Sal. “So you want the rest of your crew to go down in flames, huh?”
He glares at me, his eyes red and puffy. He couldn’t lead a crew out of a goddamn paper bag. But I’ll humor him. For now.
“They deserve it. I didn’t steal anything. I just fucked around with one of your girls.”
I jab a finger at his chest. “You organize this shit show, Sal?”
“No! It was Frankie, I swear!” he cries out. “And I already made sure he’ll be at that meeting spot you gave me. If you let me go, I’ll help you find whoever else he was working with! Let me show you that I can be loyal to you again!”
Wow, this guy has really done a complete one-eighty in the past few minutes. Now he thinks he can actually have his job back, too? Does he really believe I’d ever go along with that? Eh. Fuck it. Let him believe what he wants, as long as I get my drugs and handle the traitors quickly and somewhat cleanly.
“I want what was stolen, too,” I say through gritted teeth. “All of it.”
“I can get it for you,” he says. “Please, Roman. Give me a chance to make this right!”
I pretend to think about it before responding. “Okay, Sal. I’ll give you a shot. But you know what’s going to happen if you fuck up, right? Do I need to show you—?”
“No!” he yelps. “I’ve got it. And if Frankie needs some more convincing, his sister works at the Grammercy Tap Room. I’ve only seen her once in the whole time I’ve known Frankie. He doesn’t let any of us get near her. I only know where she works because I saw the caller ID on his phone one night when she was working.”
Frankie is the one I want to punish most, that cocksucker. I want to do it for Matteo, for my family, but especially for my father. My former best friend is now my mortal enemy, and he’s the one who will pay the steep price for this betrayal. And if I know Frankie, he will definitely try to run as soon as he gets the chance. So I need my leverage.
Sal is singing like a fucking fat canary right now, and I should be happy. Thrilled, even. He’s about to sell everyone out, and he’s practically paving a path back to my money.
But a knot in my gut tightens when I hear her name, and I’m suddenly back at the restaurant with booze puddling in my lap as I gaze up at her snarky grin and get lost in her blue-green eyes.
Marchella.
Chella.
And just like that, the elusive bargaining chip falls right into my lap.
I needed an incentive to get Frankie to return my money, and now I have one.
Except she just happens to be the girl who got away…literally. She’s the girl I fantasized about for the better part of my teen years. Hell, I did more than fantasize about her, too. But I was smart enough to know back then that if I got too close, the sparks I felt between us would ignite and the flames would swallow me whole.
And that’s in addition to what Frankie would have done to me if I even dared look for too long.
All of the memories burst between my ears, swirling through my mind as I scrub a hand down the front of my face. I need to get my head on straight. This is my job! I can’t let these crazy feelings take over when I have so much at stake, like the loyalty and respect of my family and organization. I need to show them all the consequences they’ll face if any of them decide to pull a similar scheme, how I won’t tolerate deception and if they test me, they’ll pay with their lives. And not only them, but everyone they love.
Just like Frankie.
My throat tightens and I clench my fists.
And Marchella.
Fuck.
I turn to Ray. “Make sure Bobby meets Frankie at the meeting spot Sal gave him.” My jaw twitches. “And get me a location for his sister.”
Chapter Six
Marchella
A heavy feeling in my gut weighs me down as I finish straightening up Frankie’s room. We are not running away from our lives. Our reality is bleak right now, but dammit, I’m going to figure out a way to make it better. There has to be something better out there for us.
I thought we hit rock bottom when Mama died. I had no idea how much deeper hell went.
But, as they say, when you finally do crash, you have nowhere to go but up.
So that’s my glass-half-full perspective for the day.
My mind wanders back to my shift last night at the bar and the mystery man who left me hundreds of dollars as a tip for pouring liquor into his lap, then left me high and dry after my shift.
His eyes had been so captivating, it reminded me of another time…a happier one where I was carefree and in love. Sure, some might have said it wasn’t real because I was only fourteen, but I know what I felt.
It’s strange. The man from last night was rough and cocky and arrogant, but those eyes…they gripped me in the same way. I’d have followed him just about anywhere while caught under his salacious spell. There had really only been one other guy who’d elicited this kind of response, but that was such a long time ago, in a different life, one where we danced around our feelings for years because the danger overshadowed the future.
And then a worse danger seeped into our lives, poisoning any chance of us being together.
I was young but I knew what I wanted, what I needed.
Then I was yanked away forever, and what I wanted was shoved into the dark recesses of my mind and heart, to the point where it almost felt like a figment of my imagination.
Like it wasn’t ever real.
Like it never could be again.
Fast forward to the present.
I let out a deep sigh. Dating and sex…those are luxuries I haven’t experienced in a very long time. Most guys aren’t too thrilled about hanging out with the daughter of a convicted murderer, and an infamous gangster to boot.
My shitty past just insists on dictating my future. It’s like the quintessential re-gift that just keeps fucking looping with no end in sight.
Too bad, because some mind-bending sex is exactly what I need to get my mind off of our dismal circumstances. I thought I was on the path toward it last night, but oh well.
I bite down on my lower lip, the memory of his scent infusing my senses yet again.
So strong, so heady, so masculine.
God, I’d love to have broken my dry spell with him. We wouldn’t have had to exchange names, so there’d be no risk of him freaking out once he found out who I was. It would be pure carnal bliss…sweaty, hot, and—
“Thanks for helping me pull my shit together,” Frankie says, jerking me from my wanton daydream. He zips up a hoodie and twists his baseball cap around so the bill is backward. It’s his classic “I take no shit” look.
“No big deal. I had the time,” I say in a rueful voice, shrugging.
“What are you gonna do this afternoon?” he asks, and I furrow my brow. He sounds way more interested than normal in what I have planned for my low-budget day.
“Maybe I’ll go for a jog, something we were supposed to do together, remember?” I say, wagging my finger in his face.
“Tomorrow,” he promises.
“Yeah, well, I won’t hold my breath.”
I walk into the kitchen and pull open the refrigerator door. It’s dismally empty, save for a six-pack of beer, a gallon of orange juice, and a few eggs. “You said pizza for dinner?” I ask with a quick grin.
“You got it,” he says, giving me an affectionate punch in the shoulder. “Hey, ah, since it doesn’t sound like you have anything really pressing to do, why, um, don’t you take a ride with me? I was planning to make a stop before I head over to my meeting.”
I narrow my eyes. “And where exactly are you going?”
Frankie rubs the back of his neck. “To visit Papa. Wanna come with?”
“I’d rather donate an eye and pluck it out myself with a pencil. Besides, I don’t relish t
he idea of running home from Rikers so you can take your meeting.”
“Chella,” Frankie says. “You really need to see him. To talk to him. It’s been too long.”
“I have no interest in talking to him,” I grumble, slamming the refrigerator shut.
“I really think—”
I spin around, my lips twisted into a grimace. “Look, I get that you had a special bond with Papa. But we never had the same connection. He let you in on things, gave you guidance, tried to prepare you for this life. I never got the same attention. He could never talk to me the way he did with you. He could never teach me things he taught you. But he could have made an effort. I tried and failed. You know what? I needed him, too, especially after Mama got sick. And he faded away more and more once she died until he was finally gone. Literally.”
“I always thought it was because it haunted him, how much you look like Mama. How you have a lot of her mannerisms.”
“You don’t think that haunts me, too?” I say through clenched teeth. “And you see it, too. Did you toss me aside because you couldn’t handle it? No! But that doesn’t even come close to explaining why for years before that he cast me aside.”
“He’s not a bad guy. He tried to do what was best for us, and for Mama when she was here. He made a lot of mistakes, yeah. But he always took care of us.”
“Until he got put away and made our lives crumble around us again. He did it once and we had to find a new life in a different country! Then he did it a second time when he killed that guy and left us to pick up those pieces, Frankie. We had to take care of each other because there was nobody else to help us!” I hold up my hands. “Wait. Stop. I don’t want to do this right now. I’m already nervous enough for you to go to that meeting. I don’t want to go down this road with Papa. I can’t. He made his bed.”
“Okay,” he mumbles. “I just think that maybe it’s time to figure out how to move past things. He is all we have left.”
I shake my head, smoothing down the front of my t-shirt and pulling my hair into a low ponytail. “I’m not ready, Frankie. I’m hurt. And angry. And frustrated. I don’t know when all of that is going to blow over, if ever.”
“You can’t hold a grudge forever,” Frankie says softly. “He’s still your father.”
“Yeah, well, right now, he’s just a guy who’s responsible for ruining my life. Twice.” I slip my apartment key into one of my sneakers before sliding my feet into them.
“Okay, well, just consider making a visit someday, Chell. He always asks about you. He knows he fucked up, and I think he wants to make it right.”
I press my lips together into a tight line. “Just please, please be careful, Frankie. Call me. I’ll have my phone glued to my hand in case you need anything.”
“And who you gonna call if heads start to roll?” he asks with a smirk.
“Ghostbusters,” I say with a chuckle. I pull him close, burying my head in his cologne-spritzed neck and inhaling deeply. This is what comfort is to me. My brother, the one person in my life who believes in me. The one person I want to take care of. The one person I know truly cares about me. I have to do right by him, to fix all of the shit that’s gone wrong in our lives. He’s hurting, too. I have to find a way to heal us both.
I pull open the door and turn to look at my older brother. Tall and handsome with a grin that can get him pretty much anything he wants. I’ve seen it in action. My shoulders slump for a second. He could be anything he wants. He has so much zest for life, so much personality. Why would he want to demean himself with this kind of gangster work? Any job that makes you look backward more than forward to make sure nobody is chasing you with a machete isn’t worth it, in my opinion.
“Why don’t ya take a picture? It’ll last longer,” he says with a snicker.
I flip him off and shut the door behind me, silencing the giggle that almost escaped. Can’t do anything to alert Mr. Raynor. Although, this sports bra pushes my boobs up pretty high and gives me some good cleavage. I might be able to buy us another week if I have the unfortunate experience of running into him.
But luck is on my side today.
I make it out of the building without so much as a glimpse of him.
The sunshine warms my face as I step onto the pavement. I rub my hands down my arms as a cool breeze slithers under the moisture-wicking fabric. I begin my jog — crossing over Sherman Avenue and heading in the direction of Inwood Park. When we went apartment hunting after the bank foreclosed on our home, this was one of the only locations we could afford that would actually give us our own space. It’s not glamorous by any stretch, and there’s no way on God’s green Earth that I’d go for a jog in the park after dark — even though daylight is oftentimes sketchy — but it’s home for us.
For now.
And so I carry pepper spr—
Shit.
I forgot my pepper spray.
I got so rattled by Frankie’s invitation that it went out of my mind completely.
I do have the key in my shoe, though. If I can manage to not hurl all over an assailant, I could get the sneaker off and impale him or her with the tip.
A snicker slips through my lips.
As if.
I pull in a deep breath as I jog along Seaman Street, and everything gets a little greener, a little more lush and fresh. I love this slice of nature. Maybe because it’s an escape from the hustle and bustle of everyday city life. I can come here and lose myself in the foliage, leaving all of my problems back with the hectic street traffic which never seems to calm, regardless of the hour. The Harlem River greets me, the water rippling in the breeze. The top of the water glitters as the light hits the peaks and I break into a run.
I take one of the paths, passing a Little League baseball game on my left as I navigate my way around the park. A twinge of sadness makes my heart clench as I watch the kids running and screaming and cheering for their teammates. I miss being around kids so much. Two hours a week at the community center is not nearly enough for me. My students’ enthusiasm and zest for learning made me excited to go to work every day, to teach them and watch their little faces light up with joy when they connected the dots I’d lay out for them. But I can understand my parents wouldn’t want their kids instructed by the daughter of a convicted murderer. I hate leaving that legacy in my wake, and I’m determined to change it.
Somehow.
People walk their pets, little girls pass me on pink roller skates, and things feel, at least for a little while, normal.
I crave that normalcy every day. It’s one of the reasons why I come here. I don’t care much for the exercise, but it gives me something to do while I people-watch and wonder about their circumstances. My situation isn’t great, but I don’t think I’m the worst off by any stretch.
We’re all struggling in some way.
That’s another reason I love this park.
The silent camaraderie.
It’s comforting and proves I’m not alone in my struggle.
My feet pound harder on the concrete, my shoelaces loosening and flapping against the ground as I run, faster and faster until my lungs feel like they’re going to explode. It’s a welcome release from the stress cloud hanging over me. The muscles in my legs tense and tighten with every step, a cramp in my side warning me that the end is near.
I slow down, collapsing against a chain link fence, wheezing because I never remember to breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth. I turn so my back is plastered against the fence, and I lean my head back as my breathing calms. It takes a while but then again, I have plenty of time.
Regrettably.
When I finally drag myself away from the fence, I tighten my ponytail and head toward the park exit and back to the craziness of the city and my life. This little slice of bliss will be here when I get back.
I remember running through Washington Square Park back in my college days when life was bright and promising and there was no need to escape anything.
&nb
sp; I wish I had a damn time machine. A DeLorean. I’d easily find a road where I could hit eighty-eight miles per hour and get the hell out of…well, hell.
I psych myself up for the next leg of my run when I can finally breathe again. I gather speed as I dart through trees in a quieter area of the park. A flash of black catches my eye and I divert from my intended path, cutting around some bushes in pursuit of the perked-up ears that just trotted past me.
The area is a bit more wooded, so I have to sidestep trees and rocks to find the skinny stray who is bent on evading me. It finally peeks its head out and I jump from one rock onto a larger one right next to the puppy, the sole of my foot skidding and then slipping on the smooth top. I fly into the air, my arms flailing as I brace for my fall.
“Ahh!” I shriek, my body sailing forward as if in slow motion. I throw my arms over my face, in preparation for the impending crash, but instead of jagged rock, I collide with something else as a strong arm pulls me back to solid ground.
Something that smells like Prada cologne and has massive muscles gathers me tight. My heart thuds with increasing force as I gaze up at what…or rather…who…cushioned my fall.
Holy crap on a cracker. It’s the guy from the bar last night.
The big tipper with the delicious body and eyes I could stare into forever.
The guy who stood me up.
Joe.
But when those crystal blue eyes focus on me, I momentarily forget all about my search-and-rescue mission and my wounded pride. That is, until…
“Aarf! Aarf!”
I jerk my head around with a gasp, scrambling to regain my footing as the black puppy takes off like a shot, scooting out of the park under a broken bit of fence.
“Oh, no!” I moan.
“Your dog?” Joe asks.
“No,” I reply. “I think it was a stray. But I’m sure its owner must be looking for it.”
I look around at the park behind us. We’re so far off the beaten path, I don’t even know how I missed this guy hanging out back here. We’re in the most desolate area of the park.
Savage Beast: A Dark Mafia Enemies to Lovers Romance (Sinfully Savage) Page 7
