by Ashley Jade
Hell, he's even bigger than me.
I regard him with a nod. “Hey, Dwayne. Have you met Special Agent Ford Baker, yet?”
Dwayne rubs his hands together and Ford cowers. “Special Agent,” he coos. “I don't believe I've had the pleasure. But rumor has it he's been saving that tight little virgin ass just for me.”
Damn right—I put out specific orders that no one was allowed to touch Ford until I gave the go-ahead.
And that go-ahead is right fucking now.
I pat him on the shoulder and my eyes cut to Ford's. “He sure is, Dwayne.”
I walk toward the door. “Heard he likes it rough, too.”
“You motherfucker,” Ford shouts as Dwayne advances toward him. “God, I can't fucking wait,” he screams. “I can't wait until that pretty head of hers is torn right off her hot little body after her cunt’s been fucked so hard she's the one screaming and begging for mercy.”
Ice crawls up my spine as a sound unlike any I've ever heard before rips from my throat and I lunge for him. “What the fuck did you just say?”
“Go to hell you—”
Ford doesn't get a chance to finish that sentence.
“Oh, fuck,” some deep voice says behind me as I plunge my knife deep into Ford's eyeball and he screams like the little bitch he is.
“Do it, Dwayne,” I growl.
He looks hesitant for a moment before he begins removing Ford's jumpsuit.
However, that's not good enough for me anymore.
I shake my head and dig the knife in deeper. “That's not where I want you to stick it.”
Dwayne understandably looks confused—until I pull my knife back...and with it comes Ford's blood soaked, crystal blue eyeball. “I've made a new hole for you, Dwayne.”
I watch as Dwayne drops his pants and positions himself in front of Ford and he screams so loud his voice gives out.
“You have 48 hours to tell me what I need to know, Ford. Or I'll take your ear next and Dwayne here will fuck that hole until he rattles your brain enough and you come clean.”
I slam the door behind me as my phone begins ringing.
My stomach recoils and I mutter a curse when I see an Italian phone number flash across the screen.
I have no idea why someone from the DeLuca Council is calling me right now...but I do know that I can't ignore them.
Chapter 4 (Lou-Lou)
The gravel crunches under my cowboy boots in the parking lot as I make the walk out to my car after my shift.
An unusually cool breeze wafts through the air and the unmistakable feeling of dread washes over me.
He's dead, I remind myself as DeLuca flashes before my eyes.
He can't get to me anymore. He can't hurt me. No one can.
All my monsters are gone.
My heart beats like a hammer and my breath comes out in short, uneven bursts.
Images of DeLuca's gun tearing me open as I scream for dear life, and large hands touching a little girl in the middle of the night against her will make my skin crawl and I fight the urge to puke.
It's just a panic attack, I tell myself. It will be over soon.
I hate that they always come on so unexpectedly and during the most inopportune times.
One moment—I'm writing notes in class or serving a new table a round of drinks at work—and the next, I'm one big puddle of a disaster.
No wonder I haven't made a single friend in this godforsaken hick town. Everyone looks at me like I'm crazy, and god only knows what they whisper behind my back because they're all too afraid to say it to my face.
Momma keeps urging me to go to therapy, but I know there's no point.
There's no therapist or medication in the world that can cure a lifetime of sick and brutal acts, or take back what I've lost.
There's nothing that can cure the shame.
There's nothing that can fix what's broken beyond all repair.
I snap my eyes shut and try and force myself to think about something else, anything else, in order to get this horrible episode over with faster.
Il mio piccolo superstite.
I steady myself and take a deep breath as the sound of his voice and the feel of his touch soothe me.
It's always him who takes it all away. Every single time.
But not without a price—because in its wake—currents of grief, anger, and heartbreak in its purest form crash to the surface.
The hollow muscle in my chest beats a painful rhythm and I find myself wishing the damn thing would just get it over with and kill me already.
Put me out of my misery for once and for all.
“Rough night?”
The gun in my purse is already out and pointed in the direction of the masculine voice quicker than I can open my eyes.
And when I do...I find Atticus out of all people staring back at me.
For a moment, I'm rendered speechless as I watch him walk ahead of me.
He folds his arms across his chest and leans against my car. “A Beretta 92'. Interesting choice.”
I ignore the twinge in my heart and the urge to point out that it's not my gun but Ricardo's.
Instead I put my finger on the trigger and narrow my eyes. “What are you doing?”
I could excuse his behavior during our first meeting. He was interested and did the typical male bullshit.
But now?
Now my radar is up. Hell, this is borderline stalking.
He gives me a lazy smile and bites down on the toothpick in his mouth. “Not being a patron at the Show 'n Tail.”
“I never called you,” I remind him curtly.
“I didn't give you my number,” he counters, his smile growing bigger.
I look him right in the eyes, my finger never leaving the trigger. “Why are you stalking me?”
He looks offended, and for a moment, I find myself feeling bad. But then I remember that he's the one showing up unannounced in the parking lot of my job.
For a brief second, I contemplate calling Ricardo, but I quickly dismiss the idea entirely.
I can handle this all on my own.
I've killed a notorious mob boss. Putting some hillbilly in his place will be a piece of cake.
“Some people would call it courting, Sindile,” he says, pulling a rose out of his pocket.
“Yeah, well, those people aren't me.” I gesture to the flower. “And roses are overrated.”
He nods at the gun in my hand. “Clearly I misjudged what kinds of things impress you.” He chuckles. “But then again, ladies do dig the bad boys.”
“This one doesn't,” I murmur and his eyes widen. “Not any more, anyway.”
He rubs his chin, appearing to be deep in thought. “I guess that would explain some things.”
“I don't understand what you want, Atticus.” I lower the gun and tuck it back into my purse. “There are plenty of nice girls in town who I'm sure would be thrilled to have your undivided attention. Why me?”
He shrugs and takes the toothpick out of his mouth. “You intrigue me.”
“You don't know me.”
“Which is precisely why you intrigue me, Sindile.”
“How do you know I'm not already taken?”
He takes a step forward and pins me with a stare. “Well, if you were? I'd say your boyfriend's doing a real shitty job at protecting you...seeing as you feel the need to point your gun at everything that moves.” He takes another step. “I'd also say he's the biggest idiot in the world for letting you work at a place like this.”
“Maybe he doesn't control me.”
“Maybe he should.”
For a split-second, I feel my cheeks heat. And although it's nowhere near as potent as the level of attraction I felt for Ricardo...the fact that I can feel it again period...is interesting.
Maybe I'm not so dead inside after all.
“I won't go on a date with you,” I blurt out, both my body and brain on the defense. “I don't have time to date anyone and I'm not looking for a b
oyfriend.”
Disappointment crosses over his features as I stick my key in the car door. “How do you know you're not looking for something if you don't give it a chance?”
“How do you know you don't like the taste of radishes if you don't give them a chance?”
His eyes crinkle and he shakes his head. “What?”
I bite my lip, attempting to hide my embarrassment at my weird analogy. “It was just an example. I hate radishes, so I figured I'd use those.”
He nods and opens my car door for me. “For the record, I happen to love radishes.”
I slide into my seat and start the car. “I'm sorry, Atticus, but my answer is still no.”
He regards me with another nod. “I understand.” He closes my car door. “Can I at least have another conversation with you in the parking lot after your shift sometime this week?”
“I—” I pull on my bottom lip, unsure of how to answer. I'd be lying if I said I didn't somewhat enjoy our exchange.
It's nice talking to someone other than Momma and horny men at my job all the time.
“You're not saying no,” Atticus notes.
“I'm not saying yes, either.”
He grins as I start backing out of the parking lot. “But you're not saying no,” he calls out right before I drive off.
Chapter 5 (Ricardo)
I take a confident step forward as I enter the large room, making sure I don't show the twinge of apprehension I'm feeling due to being called here.
Twelve pairs of eyes size me up and down, revealing nothing about their true intentions for this meeting.
I've done everything the council has required of me.
Hell, I've done plenty of shit they didn't require of me, too.
The oldest man, Ernesto—otherwise known as the leader of the DeLuca elders and the official consigliere of the council, narrows his eyes at me.
I narrow mine right back at him and take another step forward.
Family or not, I know this is a test.
One that I can't fail.
I also know that I'd have no qualms about blowing these fuckers' heads off.
Well, except one.
It would result in the death of those I care about.
Deal or no deal...they know my weak spot. They know they have the ultimate leverage to make me bend to their will.
But that's not nearly half as unnerving as my next thought is.
What happens when it consumes me entirely?
My chest squeezes as visions of Lou-Lou and our baby, the baby that could have been—should have been—puncture me.
Anger rises and bubbles and that beautiful sweet release calls out to me once again.
I don't want out of this hellhole...I want it to swallow me whole and take this unbearable misery away for good.
I want what was mine.
I want her.
I want our baby.
I want...
To fucking annihilate everyone in this world who has everything that I never will.
I want to take lives, destroy souls, and leave nothing but devastation behind.
Because in this world? It's either kill or be killed.
And when I'm the killer?
It's the only time I'm free from these chains of suffering that bind me. It's the only time I find any peace.
It's the only time I don't think about her—them.
I reach for the gun in my waistband and give the old man a smirk. Approval flashes across his face and he gives the other men a small nod.
“You're doing well,” he says, his words laced in a thick Italian accent. “You're exceeding our expectations...ben fatto.”
I want to ask him how the hell he had any expectations about me when I was always dead set on never taking my place before four months ago, but then he says, “However, I feel it's only fair to tell you there will be some changes happening within the DeLuca council soon. Changes that have already taken place.”
I stuff down the ball of dread forming in my stomach with that statement. “What kinds of changes?”
He folds his hands and sits up in his seat. “The DeLuca's are a dying breed.”
“No shit,” I scoff. “The mob life isn't really known for it's stellar retirement plan and longevity.”
His eyes flash and his nostrils flare as the men around him begin to speak in hushed tones. “No, it's not. Which is why we needed to expand. Make deals with people who aren't of DeLuca blood. It's the only way to ensure our legacy will still remain intact after we're gone. Our empire is crumbling—we are losing control...and if we're not careful—we will lose our power.” He shoots me a look that can cut glass. “You were supposed to produce the next in line. You were supposed to fix everything and breed new blood...but clearly that didn't happen.” His eyes grow dark and cold. “Because of her.”
A low growl erupts from my throat and I move the short distance until I'm standing directly in front of him. “Say it again and watch what happens.”
The room goes silent right before he barks, “And watch what the fall out from that will be.” He bolts up from the chair so forcefully it falls behind him. “Don't test me, boy. I know your real fears...and I'll make each and every one of them a reality. You think your father was brutal, try crossing me.”
He sucks his teeth and jabs a finger into my chest. “We made an agreement in exchange for you taking your place. That's the reason you were called here today...because there's been a change.”
Panic shoots through every part of my body and anger rises and erupts like a goddamn volcano.
My hands ball at my sides and I take another step until we're almost nose to nose. “Touch one fucking hair on her head and I will peel off your wrinkly ass skin and gut you from nose to navel before I force you to watch me eat your heart, motherfucker.”
“Careful, Ricardo,” he warns. “That weakness of yours is showing—and mark my words, it will be the death of you.”
His eyes dilate and gleam with his next statement, “However, a deal is a deal. Therefore, we won't hurt her or those people you insist on calling friends.”
He smiles darkly. “But that doesn't mean our new business associate won't. So consider this our good deed, your warning...and your head start.”
He smirks right before he delivers the final words that are the equivalent to a knock out punch. “Because that's the only help from us you will receive when it comes to her or them.”
“Not guilty.”
Thank fucking God.
The breath Tyrone and I were both holding leaves our lungs and relief flows through me.
They have no idea, but I listened in while the jury was deliberating. I had every intention of putting my own brand of fear into them one by one, but luckily for them; they decided all on their own that Jackson wasn't guilty. That newbie lawyer Jackson chose to go with did one hell of a job after all.
Beside me, Momma starts screaming and crying...and that's when I notice the look on Jackson's face.
He looks like he's giving himself a pep-talk and getting ready to console us.
Shit. He really didn't think he was getting out.
I cast a glance at Tyrone and we both nod. Of course Jackson didn't think things were going to go his way, because they never have.
“It's okay, guys,” he tells us. “I'll be okay. Just promise me that you'll take care of Alyssa and the baby for me. Please.”
I look him right in the eyes. “Why?” For the first time in months, I actually smile. “You'll be able to do that yourself.”
“What—” he starts to say, but Momma plows into him.
“I knew it would all work out in the end,” she says through sobs.
Jackson's jaw drops and he looks at Tyrone who's grinning from ear to ear. “Not guilty, brother.”
And just like that...we all walk out of the courtroom like one big happy family.
Because there's no way I can tell them their lives are all on the line again.
The sounds of glass
shattering all around me doesn't stop me.
The sounds of Marlene's frantic screaming in the background doesn't phase me.
But the sounds of him gurgling and choking on his own blood right
before his eyes fix and dilate?
Yeah, that calms me.
For a few moments at least.
I pull my knife out of the man's jugular, then I lift my head and glare at them.
Well, what's left of them.
“18 hours,” I inform them as I toss the now fresh new corpse on the floor and dispose of my crimson soaked black gloves. “Or you can kiss another member of your team goodbye.”
“How the hell can we find her if you keep killing us off?” one of them, who I understand to be the hacker of the group yells.
He pushes his glasses up his nose and I notice him visibly start to shake. “We're trying our hardest, but it's a big freaking world out there...a world that she obviously doesn't want to be a part of or else we'd be able to find her.”
Beside him, the leader of the P.I. team mutters a curse.
I hear the sharp intake of breath from Marlene as my spine turns to ice and I bare my teeth. “What did you just say?”
He opens his mouth but I open my trunk and take out a crowbar.
Mr. Hacker guy swallows hard and looks like he's about to shit a brick. “I—um.”
I swing the crowbar in my hand and take a step forward. “You what?”
He holds up his hands. “Look, Mr. DeLuca...with all due respect—it's a possibility.”
He wipes the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. “She isn't using the alias you set up for her. We have no clue what her actual surname before she married your father was because he had any and all records of who she used to be permanently destroyed.”
He starts listing things on his fingers. “We can't track her on the burner phone you gave her because it's not on and her old one is sitting at the bottom of the bay at the docks. The car you provided for her was traded in multiple times and she still hasn't tapped into the bank account you gave her access to.”
He looks down at the ground. “So she's either hiding under a fucking rock in some far off corner of the earth that's completely unheard of...or something happened to her.”
