“Good,” I say. “Come into my office. We need to call Matteo.”
Dante narrows his eyes at me. “Where the hell have you been? And whose blood is all over your shirt and hands?”
“Frankie’s.”
“Fuuuuck,” he breathes. “This should be a fun call.”
I close the door behind us and open the lid of my laptop. Then I pull up Matteo’s number and make the call. His face flashes on the screen a minute later and he looks hella tense. I brace myself for another lashing because there’s no way I’ll escape his wrath right now.
“Did you take care of it?” he asks, not even bothering with a quick greeting.
“Not exactly,” I say. I recount the whole story for my brothers, including Frankie’s whole sob story and then one-hundred-and-eighty-degree about-face that confirmed his revenge plot against me.
Us.
It doesn’t really matter.
He fucking crossed the line.
“I hammered him pretty bad then threw him in my trunk,” I say, folding my arms over my chest.
“What the hell are you gonna do with him in your trunk?” Matteo shouts.
“I was trying to come up with a different plan,” I say through gritted teeth. “I didn’t want to have to kill anyone else, don’t you get that? I wanted to solve this without any more blood!”
“But you couldn’t do that, could you?” Matteo sneers. “And now we’re going to war with the fucking Volkovs? How in the hell did you let this happen, Roman?”
“Look, I made a mistake! A lot of them! But I’m trying to fix it all!”
“And why did you think meeting with Frankie was gonna solve anything? The guy is a goddamn weasel! He’s never gonna change! And he wants to take us down. Him, his father. They were just waiting for the right time…” Matteo narrows his eyes. “For the little prince to step in so they could cut him off at the knees!”
Dante looks at me and gives me a little shrug. “We’ve gotta find out if this whole thing with the Volkovs is a real threat or if it’s Frankie fucking with your head.”
“So, what, you wanna go to Brooklyn and meet them for fucking borscht and vodka to talk it all out?” I snip.
Matteo holds up his hands. “Okay, just relax, dammit. I’ll talk to Alek. He’ll make a call.”
“No,” I say. “This is my mess to clean up. I don’t need the Severinovs to run interference for me. I’ll figure it out!”
“Did you ever think Frankie might be baiting you?” Dante asks. “He and Sal pulled the first job. The Volkovs weren’t involved. We have no dealings with them.”
“Yeah, so?” The stress knot at the base of my skull is growing with alarming speed.
“Maybe he’s trying to distract you again. Have you looking out for the Volkovs when the threat is right under your nose. He wants to take us down, to make sure we suffer like his family did. Him, not the Volkovs.”
“Dante is right,” Matteo says. “Save yourself the aggravation and kill the fucking prick! Kill Frankie before he—”
My blood boils, rushing between my ears with such force that I don’t even hear the door slam open.
“Kill Frankie?” A high-pitched female voice cuts through the tension in the room as Marchella storms into the room, looking like a goddess in the floor-length gown I bought her earlier today. Her high heels click angrily on the hardwood floor, her face twisted with rage. She walks right over to me, not even bothering to acknowledge the computer screen, and she shoves her hands against my chest. “You fucking liar!” she screams. “You promised me you’d take care of everything, that you wouldn’t hurt him!” Her eyes spit emerald fire as she pushes against me again. “You told me to trust you, that we’d be safe! And you’re planning to kill him!” She reaches out and slaps me across the face with a force that sends a stinging sensation exploding across my jaw. “I hate you!”
I capture her wrist in my hand before she can land another smack, hissing at her. “I did what had to be done. I wasn’t about to let him hurt my family!”
“What about what you promised me? I guess that doesn’t count, right? Because I’m not one of your brothers? I don’t rate?”
“I have a responsibility to my family, Marchella,” I growl. “It’s my job to keep our organization protected.”
“Well, I guess that ‘job’ will have to be what keeps you warm at night, Roman.” She flips her wrist, pulling it from my grip. “Because I’m done playing your fucking games!” Marchella twists around and stalks out of the room.
I run after her, yanking her back toward me. “Your brother is the liar,” I mutter. “He doesn’t give a damn about anything other than revenge. He wants to see my family crumble!”
“Can you blame him, after everything that happened?”
I fist my hair. “This is all on your father! Why is that little detail something you and Frankie keep on forgetting? And for the record, he’s lucky my father didn’t have him killed after what he did to us back in Sicily!”
“You are an insufferable asshole!” she yells, twisting around to grab a bottle of red wine from the counter in the kitchen. She hurls it toward my head and I duck in time for it to shatter against the wall…a wall that had been stark white only seconds earlier. Now, it looks like a murder scene with splotches of red wine soaking into the sheetrock.
I run after her, reaching an arm around her midsection, but she swings her shoulder into my chest. She tries to punch me again but I capture her fist before she has the chance to crack it against my jaw. “Ahh!” she screams, stomping on my foot with the skinny heel of her shoe, and then driving her knee right into my balls.
I release her, crumbling onto the floor, doubled over from the hit, and she grabs my car keys from the kitchen island before darting out of the apartment.
The girl literally brought me to my goddamn knees.
I struggle to my feet, gasping for breath and clutching myself as Dante comes out of the office a minute later.
“Damn, Romo. Your girl is fucking brutal. Listen, Matteo is pissed as hell and he wants us to—”
“Forget…Matteo. She has…my keys…” I rasp. “Frankie is…in trunk.”
“Christ,” he mutters, sliding on his sneakers and running out the door. I pull myself to a half-standing position and go after him, taking the steps as fast as I can, which isn’t saying much since I’m still partially incapacitated.
I’m almost at the bottom floor when Dante disappears through the door into the garage. “Jesus Christ!” he yells. I run-walk to the door, grasping the handle and pulling it open to find Frankie scrambling out of my trunk and Chella firing me a death glare from across the space. The driver’s side door is open. I guess she got sidetracked when she heard her idiot brother thrashing around in the trunk.
“You fucking asshole!” she screams, shaking her fists in the air. “How could you do this to him? He was about to suffocate in there!”
Frankie doesn’t waste a second before he lunges for me, throwing his body into me with such force, we land against the glass wall with a loud thud. I roll him over and pound his face with my fist, forgetting about the trauma recently done to my manhood.
“You forget how this ended the first time?” I grunt as he smashes his fists into my covered midsection. “Did you forget how you ended up in the goddamn trunk? Huh?”
I stagger to my feet, spitting blood from where he landed his one good hook against my jaw. He drags himself up to a half-standing position, breathing heavily as Dante rolls his eyes at me.
“You think you’re getting the last word, huh, Roman?” Frankie hisses, inching toward me. “Well, guess what? You’re wrong. So fucking wrong and I can’t wait until I can see it on your face! The look that says I’m about to be fucked by Frankie Amante again and there’s nothing I can do about it except bend over!”
Dante groans. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, that’s not an image I want burned into my memory.”
Frankie dives for my ankles, tackling me to the ground. M
y head narrowly misses the car door before I hit the cement. He rolls on top of me, his knee digging into my throat, and then something distracts him and he jumps off of me and into the driver’s seat of my already beaten-up Bentley.
I clutch my throat, sputtering for breath as I hear a piercing scream followed by one single gunshot to the ceiling.
“Frankie, no!” Chella yells.
My fucking gun!
Goddammit, why the hell did I leave it on the front seat?
Another shot fires just as I duck around the front of the car to shield myself, the rogue bullet wedging itself into the bulletproof glass wall behind me.
“Stop shooting!” Chella grabs Frankie’s shirt and points a finger at me. “And you! You deceitful sack of shit! You did this to him! You beat the hell out of him and stuffed him in your trunk! How could you do that, you fucking animal? If I hadn’t heard him banging, he’d have died!”
Frankie lets out a dry chuckle. “Lucky for me, my sister saw through your bullshit in enough time to get me out so I could take care of you myself!”
“Put the gun down, Frankie!” Dante roars from his spot behind a column. “You won’t get out of here alive if you don’t!”
“Fuck you, Dante!” Frankie yells back, pointing my gun at us. “I’m done with any Villani dictating my fucking next moves!”
“Should I parrot Matteo right now and say you shoulda popped a cap in that idiot’s skull a long time ago?” Dante shouts to me.
I push back my hair, letting out a loud groan. “Sure, if you want me to kick your fucking ass!”
“Later,” Dante snips, pointing his gun at Frankie as the asshole smashes the one window of my car that was still intact with the barrel of the gun he’s holding. “But hopefully before he completely destroys your ride.” He fires off a warning shot, missing Frankie by a mile but jolting him enough to remember we’re still here.
Frankie lets out a primal scream and fires off a few more shots at the side of my car, bullets peppering the metal. Chella shrieks, grabbing him by the back of the shirt.
“Stop it, you fucking psychopath!”
He turns and unleashes years of pent-up rage on her, and I use that as my chance to escape my own gun, darting over to where Dante stands. “This is happening because of him! The Villani family destroyed us and he is one of them! He deserves everything coming to him! But you never could see who he really was, could you? Huh? Because you were too busy finger-fucking yourself over him, right? Tell the truth, Chell!”
“That’s not true!” she shrieks. “I hated him just as much as you did!”
“Hated? Past tense?” He sneers at me. “So ya brainwashed her, Roman? Is that how you were able to get her into bed?” He looks back at Chella, a grimace shadowing his already-bruised skin. “You loved playing house with him. Admit it! I mean, look at yourself in that dress! You were just living the fucking life, weren’t you?”
Chella smacks him across the face. “You are the one who destroyed us! You and Papa! Have you forgotten that? You’re always ready to blame others for shit that’s gone wrong in your life! How dare you insinuate that I was okay with being kidnapped because of something you did because you’re a bitter, selfish prick?”
Frankie lets out a low, menacing laugh. “Yeah, well, I’m gonna be the one to make us whole again, too.” He swings around, a look of confusion on his face because I’m no longer cowering in front of my car. He narrows his eyes at me where I now stand and points the gun at me. Another shot explodes into the air and I grab Dante’s wrist just as he’s about to take a retaliatory shot.
“Don’t. He’s standing too close to Chella,” I hiss. “Too dangerous.”
“Are we supposed to wait until he hits one or both of us?” Dante grumbles. “I’m a fucking assassin. This is what I do for a living, Romo! Have a little goddamn faith!”
“See, this is what happens when you leave your gun on the front seat in your car, dumbass,” Frankie yells. “Now I’m gonna blow off your fucking head! You were never gonna escape, Roman! Never!”
“I’m not taking any chances with her. Besides, he’s gonna find out very soon that he’s out of options,” I whisper to Dante. “Once that clip is empty, it’s over. And judging by the number of shots he just took, we’re clear.”
“Frankie, what the hell are you talking about? Escape what?” Chella screams. “And stop shooting that gun!”
“Your brother is a lying sack of shit, Chella!” I yell. “You were so pissed off, thinking I went behind your back to kill him, which I fucking should have, by the way. But you didn’t let me get to the part where he screwed my family over again and partnered with the Volkov Bratva to rob me for the second time!”
“The Volkov Bratva?” Chella furrows her brow. “Why the hell would you work with them after everything that happened?” She shoves Frankie. “Are you fucking insane? After what happened to Papa?”
“Yeah, why don’t you tell her the truth about that, Frankie?” I stand up and Dante grabs me to pull me back. I shake my head. “Let me go, Dante,” I say through clenched teeth. “I’m fucking tired of this guy and it’s time to shut him the hell up!” I stalk over to Frankie as his eyes widen. He waves the gun in my face and I just smirk. “Fuck you, Frankie. Why don’t you tell her the truth?” I thunder, launching my fist at his jaw. He doubles over, as expected, and I hover over him. “That’s for messing with my car!”
“Your car was fucked to begin with!” Frankie lets out a roar and shoves me backward hard enough that I stumble into another column and he storms over to me, holding the gun in his outstretched hand. “I hate you, you sonofabitch! And now you’re gonna pay for everything your family has done to us! I hope you rot in hell!”
He pulls the trigger, but the only sound to follow is a clicking sound.
I smirk at him. “You mighta wanted to check the clip before you emptied it into the wall and my car.”
Chella punches Frankie as her screeches pierce the air. “What is wrong with you? Haven’t we lost enough?”
The approaching sound of squealing tires on the cobblestone driveway outside makes my spine stiffen. From where Dante and I are standing, it’s too dark to make out much on the outside of the garage. The walls are all bulletproof glass, but all of the trees lining the perimeter of the building make it hard to see much.
Great for ambiance, bad for reconnaissance.
And something tells me we’re about to come face to face with something damn ominous very soon.
“Who the hell is that?” Dante groans, raking a hand through his hair.
Frankie snickers, staring at the Apple watch on his wrist. He looks at me. “Perfect timing,” he snarls.
That motherfucker. I should have put a bullet in his brain when I had the chance.
Approaching footsteps get louder until I can make out three faint shapes in the courtyard. Three guys.
Correction.
When they come into view, I swallow hard.
Three massive, hulking guys — tall, with shaved heads and inked necks.
And they each have a star tattooed on their necks.
Bratva.
You have got to be kidding me right now…
Most times, I love that this building is secluded from the rest of the city. I like my privacy ninety-nine percent of the time.
But that nagging one percent comes back to haunt me on occasion.
Case in point, now.
“Boris,” Frankie says, holding up a hand. “Listen, I told you this was the place where you could collect the rest of the drugs. This guy right here will lead you to them. So now we’re even, okay?” He glares at me. “But once you have your money, I wanna finish this cocksucker off myself.”
“Frankie!” Chella yells. “You aren’t finishing anyone, do you understand? Jesus Christ, haven’t you learned? And who the hell are these guys?”
The one I guess named Boris steps forward. “We work for the Volkovs,” he grunts in a deep, gravelly voice.
Chella gasps. “The Volkovs? You mean, the—”
Boris nods. “The ones your brother stole from.”
“Yeah, yeah, but I got some of them back for you and the rest you can get from—” Frankie stammers.
“Shut up!” Boris yells, narrowing his eyes at Frankie. “Drugs weren’t all you stole that night, were they?” He steps farther into the space, his voice echoing as he moves closer. “That’s right, Amante. We know the truth about what really happened that night. So that means we’re nowhere close to even.”
Frankie’s fingers close on the handle of the gun at the same time that he remembers the clip is empty.
And he realizes in that moment that he’s screwed.
“What is he talking about?” Chella says, her voice quivering. “What else did you take, dammit?”
Chella’s panicked gaze locks with mine and I step forward, my hands in the air when Boris points his gun toward me.
“Roman Villani,” he says, narrowing his blue eyes. He holds a shotgun in one hand and his big, heavy black boots thump along the concrete floor as he approaches.
Dante points his own gun at Boris but I hold up a hand. “Listen, Boris, we have no interest in starting a war with you. For years, we’ve run our own territories without a problem. Let’s not create one now, yeah?”
Boris’s lips twist into a grimace as he closes the space between us. “I didn’t come here to start a war,” he grumbles. “And I have no interest in your money.” He holds out the shotgun and twists in Frankie’s direction. “We came for him.”
Frankie staggers backward, still clutching the gun. “Boris, what the hell are you…we had a deal! I delivered Villani, just like I said I would. I led you straight over here so you collect the rest!”
“The deal was that you pay a debt to us,” Boris yells.
“B-boris,” Frankie stammers. “I told you I’d get you all of the goods and then some. What fucking more do you want from me? You can’t seriously be pissed off about that guy I popped! I mean, he was a fucking low-level peon, for fuck’s sake! They’re a dime a dozen!”
Boris swings the shotgun at Frankie’s jaw. “He was my nephew, you piece of shit! And you don’t get to negotiate the life of family, do you understand?”
Savage Beast: A Dark Mafia Enemies to Lovers Romance (Sinfully Savage) Page 21
