Blood and Tears (Holler Ashby #2)

by Jamie Zakian

  “That’s my mama, all right.” Tyler grinned. He couldn’t even imagine what his mama would look like without a bruise somewhere on her face. It’s how she looked when he first met her, how she looked in all the pictures.

  “What you got going on under all that gauze, sweetie?”

  “I had my spleen takin’ out,” Tyler said, pride locking his spine stiff despite the pain.

  Miss June curved toward Kev. She grumbled, and he cowered down. Mama’s were rough.

  “Why ain’t he in the hospital?”

  “He got out early,” Kev said, winking at Tyler. “The doctors forgot to give me his medicines.”

  “Yeah, right. Do I even want to know where Desmond is, or how you got the kid out of the hospital?”

  “Desmond.” Tyler snickered.

  “Probably not,” Kev muttered.

  Tyler tapped Miss June on the shoulder, gaining her full attention. “We went out the window!”

  Miss June’s face turned beet red, and Tyler bit back a giggle. He leaned close to the woman, placing his hand on her arm. “It’s okay, I’m not kidnapped. My daddy and my mama know where I am.”

  “Sasha’s back!” Miss June shot to her feet to better glare at Kev. “I’m gonna get my medical kit, make Tyler a bowl of Vicodin rice pudding, then you can tell me what’s going on.” All the wrinkles on her forehead smoothed out as she turned back to smile at Tyler. “I’ll be right back, sweetie.”

  Kev waited until his mother climbed up the ladder, then pulled off his bandana and threw it to the ground. “Fuck!”

  Tyler burst out laughing until the burn in his side turned his chuckles to groans.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Sasha

  Sasha stood in front of Fat Tonys. The neon light cast a soft glow over the sidewalk. It used to soothe her mind, but today that red shimmer set her insides ablaze. Her toe dug into the plush carpet. That was as far as she could get to the front door. Not only were a table full of self-proclaimed tough-guys waiting for her within, but Dez would see the life she left him for. The glimmer that infested every surface, the women who loved to paw at her, the men who treated her as an equal. He’d see it all.

  “It’s not too late to bolt,” Otis said, stepping beside Sasha.

  Any second Dez would climb from the car behind her. She’d rather walk forward, even if it meant to her death, then look back at him.

  “I got three guns,” she said, glancing at Otis. “If we don’t like what they say, we’ll kill ‘em all.”

  “I’m down for that.”

  Sasha nodded, pushing her feet onward. Walking in with guns blazing did sound like a good plan, much easier then yapping around a table. Things needed to get done. Dante was out there, just waiting to be gutted. This bullshit was a waste of time.

  The doors opened, and Sasha strolled inside. She could tell her boys had walked in behind her, because the hostess’s jaw damn near hit the floor. These poor women, subjected to gluttonous city folk. Their brains got stupid when they saw a real man, let alone four.

  “Sasha!” the hostess chirped after her man-shock wore off. She grabbed her clipboard, then trotted forward to latch onto Sasha’s waist. “Your entire party is here.” The woman’s hands started to wander, and her lips brushed Sasha’s ear. “Do you want me to go over names with you?”

  “No. I think I remember this time.” Sasha slid her hand down the curve of the woman’s back, gripping onto her ass. “Thanks, babe.” A twinge of guilt slithered beneath her skin as she walked away. She did not want to do that, but it was expected. Inside these walls, she was a Sasha the men behind her had never seen before, the real one.

  Her steps slowed by the bar, and she glanced back at Vinny and Cash but not Dez, just his feet. “You guys wait at the bar. Look tough.”

  “There’s only four of them,” Vinny said, dipping his head to the long table up the small steps. “And your buddy.”

  Dez grumbled, pushing his way to the bar. He was all set with the intimidation bit, got Sasha pretty scared that a freak-out loomed on the horizon.

  “Try to keep him cool,” she whispered to Vinny, turning toward the table and the eyes glaring their way. Her shoulder pressed against Otis as they headed for the stairs. She could almost feel the nervous energy radiating off his body in waves. All she wanted to do was protect Otis and kill Dante. Which one she craved more, she didn’t know, and it scared her worse than the assholes at the table.

  “Othello,” Enzo said, standing to shaking Otis’s hand. With a half-grin and a light dip of his head, Enzo gestured to the wide chair at the head of the table. Not that Otis needed instruction. The man had spent his childhood in this restaurant.

  Sasha got a handshake too on her stroll past Enzo. It was unusual. Plus, the timing, with Dez’s accusation, totally sucked ass. She took her seat beside Otis, the other men stationed at the far end of the table. It wasn’t her first time sitting next to the Don, but it seemed…different now, like true power.

  “I’m sure you all know Othello Lazzari,” Sasha said, leaning back in her chair to allow better access to the glock in her pocket. “But in keeping with Tony’s tradition, which is his love for traditions…” she lit a cigarette, since the chuckles would flow for at least another three seconds, “I’ll make some quick introductions.”

  The new capo, who was still struggling to make a name for himself, sat up straight. This guy was practically begging to be introduced first. It made Sasha want to forget his ass altogether, but the point of this meeting was to make everyone happy. Next time, though, she’d fuck with him to no end.

  “Vito Pavoni, Capo of The Bronx.” That put a smile on his lips. She never thought one sentence could earn a lifetime of loyalty. Everything she’d ever done had been executed ass backward.

  Sasha turned to the round man beside Enzo. Dude had more jewelry on than Elizabeth Taylor, and it did him no justice. The bands of gold cut into his fat, creating rolls in places where they shouldn’t exist. “Big Joe Santori, Staten Island.”

  “I was good friends with your son, Joey,” Otis said, finally relaxing enough to light a joint.

  “Yes! He’s running a small crew on my side of town, anxious to see you again.”

  Before chatter of old times could kick on, Sasha gestured to the only man at the table who could give Dez a run for his muscles. “Frank Garfanzo, Brooklyn.”

  “No shit!” Otis said, passing Sasha the joint. “Frankie Two Legs is running Brooklyn.” He grinned, tapping Sasha on the arm. “They call him that ‘cause when he goes to collect, he breaks both legs. So they get the message.”

  “It’s great to see you again, Othello.” Frank got up to shake Otis’s hand, smiling like he just touched a rock star. “Or, should I say, Boss.”

  “Hell yeah, say boss.” Otis chuckled, slapping Frank on the arm.

  Sasha held up the joint, hoping to lure Otis back into his seat. Of course it worked. The last man, whose leer had been locked on Otis since the moment they walked in, cleared his throat. Sasha tried not to look at the man. If she caught his venomous glare on Otis one more time, she’d have to put him down where he sat. “That’s Rudy Valentino, Manhattan.”

  “Valentino, huh.” Otis leaned back and everyone at the table froze. “I’m glad our families were able to mend fences.”

  “A marriage will do that,” Rudy all but sneered.

  “It will,” Otis said in a cool tone, which clashed with his harsh eyes.

  “Otis and I,” Sasha said, slamming her elbows onto the table, “as the new bosses of this family, appoint Enzo the capo of Queens.”

  “Is that Queen’s new crew?” Frank asked, gesturing to the bar.

  Sasha looked across the room, shrinking back when she caught Dez’s icy glare. “Yeah.” It would take a fuck-load of sweet talking to convince Dez to stay and a shit-ton of blowjobs, but she was down for the challenge. “We got two more guys coming in.”

  “Now that the pleasantries are out of the way,” Otis sa
id, leaning on the table, “let’s get down to business.”

  The way Otis leered, how the deep tones of his voice demanded the table’s attention, sent chills through Sasha. There was no doubt that man was a Lazzari to the core.

  Big Joe slid a piece of paper down the table, his grin as wide as his belly. “I talked to all my contacts, came up with this.”

  Enzo scanned the scribbles before passing it to Sasha.

  “It’s all the businesses owned by the Mancini family,” Big Joe said. “Most of them are in our boroughs, right under our noses.”

  “Not in mine,” Rudy sneered, downing his cup of wine.

  “There’s four in Manhattan,” Sasha said, her voice bordering on a growl. She looked up from the paper, narrowing her eyes at Rudy. Enzo slid his hand under the table, the men beside Rudy scooted away, and Sasha grinned. That guy was done here. Manhattan would need a new capo, but first she’d make him clean up her messes.

  “Those Mancini fuckers are set-up in all our boroughs,” she said, passing the paper to Otis.

  “All right,” Otis said, scanning the list before handing it to Frank. “We’re gonna hit ‘em all, at the same time. Tonight.”

  Whether they liked the idea or not, each man at the table nodded. In every attempt to be slick, Sasha covered her mouth to hide her smirk. She used to be one of those nodding heads. Back then, it felt important like she was part of something larger, something profound. To be on the other side, tasting the sweet rush of power, was euphoric. She had no idea it would be so satisfying, so addictive.

  Otis gestured for the list then lifted his empty glass. “Let’s get this hashed out. It has to run smooth.” The paper slid in front of him, and a waitress appeared with a bottle of whiskey and a smile.

  ***

  Dez

  Dez leaned against the bar. He tapped the glass in his hand as he stared across the room. Sasha was one lucky bitch. If he hadn’t spent the last five years dealing with a child, he’d never have the patience for her ass.

  Even though his glare stuck to the only table full of people in this ghostly restaurant of extravagance, he wasn’t looking at Sasha. He was watching the scuzzballs. One can never trust an Italian mobster. That’s the first thing television taught him.

  The sway of a woman’s hips trapped in her tiny black dress snagged his gaze, but only for a moment. He had to be on the ball. His woman sat far from reach, amongst soulless murderers. Sure, she was probably the biggest soulless murderer of them all, but she was his soulless murderer.

  “This ain’t like the meetings you guys used to have, huh?” Cash asked, ogling a woman who strolled up the stairs with a bottle of whiskey.

  “No, it’s not,” Dez grumbled, downing his shot.

  Vinny winked at the woman on her way back behind the bar. “We really fucked up not having big tittie waitresses leaning over our shoulders.”

  “We could have had that,” Dez said, lighting a cigarette, “but Sasha would’ve fucked them all.”

  “Really, dude?” Vinny groaned.

  “You saw that shit when we walked in here.”

  “Be happy the place is closed. I was in here with her the other night and—”

  “I don’t give a fuck,” Dez said, a little too loud for such an empty room.

  “What crawled up your ass?”

  Vinny had a lot of nerve to ask that question, since it was his words that had riled Dez's mind. Sasha had it all here. The men up there respected her, accepted her. She had no reason to need him, no mother to please, no life to fake, yet she wanted him. He should be doing backflips. The woman who haunted his dreams loved him, and it made him the biggest piece of shit to walk the Earth. She was gay. Deep inside, she only wanted women, and he was a man.

  Dez spun to face the bar, reaching under for a bottle. He hoped for a Kentucky whiskey, even a bourbon would do, but honestly he’d take peach schnapps right now. To his relief, the liquor was brown, so it must be good. He filled his cup, turning back to continue his bitch-boy watch duties.

  Sasha hurried down the small steps, sneaking away from the men who were hovering over a piece of paper.

  “Whatcha got here?” She took the glass from Dez’s hand, her fingertips leaving a trail of sparks along his skin.

  Dez looked at the bottle, squinted to make out the curvy script, but all he could come up with was, “Pear brandy?”

  “It’s fucking great!”

  “Oh yeah.” Dez took a swig from the bottle, since Sasha had emptied his cup. The sweet burn went down so smooth, crisp. If money had a taste, this would be it. “It is fucking great.”

  “Take it,” Sasha said, slinking so close her chest rubbed against Dez. “We can finish it off later.”

  Dez took a step back, placing the bottle on the bar. “I’m splitting after this.”

  Vinny patted Cash on the arm, nodding to the lobby. “Come on.”

  Vinny and Cash shuffled away, but Dez didn’t look. It was clear the glitz of city lights had hypnotized his brother. The ride home would be a solo run.

  “For how long?” Her words barely made a peep, probably because she was muttering into her chest.

  “I’m going home, Sasha. Otis needed me to do this one thing, and it’s almost done.”

  “Well.” Sasha slid her glass down the bar, shooting a small smile to the waitress who practically jumped to gain any type of recognition. “Otis might need you to do one more thing.”

  For all of two seconds, Dez fell into Sasha’s dark eyes. If that stare didn’t remind him of his child, who was hurt, scared, and waiting for him, he’d let it steer him straight to Hell.

  Dez inched even farther back, away from Sasha’s electric grasp. “Is this how it’s gonna be? Every day is one more job?”

  “No.” Sasha grabbed Dez’s hand, holding tight despite his light tugs. “If you want to go, we’ll leave tonight. After I help Otis.”

  That fancy liquor had drugs in it, because Dez was hallucinating. Sasha’s hand couldn’t be clinging to his, trembling. No fucking way she just said what he thought she said.

  Sasha dropped Dez’s hand to glide her fingers up his chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her chest falling against his own. “I really want to stay here,” she said, only inches from his lips. “But I can’t do it without you and Tyler. I can’t do shit without you two.” She kissed him softly, and he couldn’t help but squeeze her tight. “I want to go wherever you are.”

  Dez fought to control the quake of his knees. The unreliable status of his legs, plus the whirl in his mind, was fucking up any chance of enjoying Sasha’s tits as they glided along his chest. If she was for real, he’d compromise. Any true relationship required sacrifice, and she’d given up enough.

  The stupidest question lingered on the tip of Dez’s tongue, and for the life of him he couldn’t keep it in. “You want to be with me?”

  “Fuck yeah!” Sasha said, without stopping to think twice.

  A smile assaulted Dez’s lips. He’d shove it back but Sasha’s eyes lit up, and her body squirmed every time he grinned.

  “Only me?” he asked, knowing that was pushing it.

  “Only you.”

  Dez would search Sasha’s eyes for the truth but that’d be impossible to do while kissing her, which was absolutely necessary at the moment.

  “Sasha?”

  Sasha turned away, breaking Dez’s kiss, but didn’t even try to part from his grasp.

  “Who’s your friend?” a round man asked as the others crowded down the stairs, stopping to stare.

  “This is my husband.” Sasha moved to the side, keeping one arm around Dez. “Desmond.”

  “Desmond,” Dez snickered. “It’s Dez,” he said, shaking the man’s hand.

  “Husband!”

  The guy gawked at Dez as if he were a miracle. In fact, all the men looked ecstatic. Seemed the city wasn’t so different from the hills. The little men in their tall buildings were just mousier than the rest of the world.

&nbs
p; “I had no idea,” a young punk looking kid said, pushing his way through the small crowd to shake Dez’s hand next.

  “Then I guess our kid is gonna be a shocker,” Dez said, and the men actually gasped.

  “Sasha!” the round one said, clasping onto her shoulders and separating her from Dez. “Is there a Lazzari heir?”

  The muscles behind Sasha’s cheek flexed as her jaw clenched. Slowly, she nodded, and the man almost cheered.

  “When this is all over,” he said, looking between Sasha and Dez, “we’re going to have one hell of a celebration. Welcome your husband and…”

  “Son,” Sasha said, with a sour look on her face.

  “A son!” the man said, chuckling. “There are great things on the horizon for this family, I can feel it.”

  The man shook Dez’s hand again on his way to the lobby. They all did, except for a short guy with beady rat eyes.

  “Who’s the little dude?” Dez whispered to Sasha.

  “Rudy. He’s gonna have to go. I don’t like the way he looks at Otis.”

  “I’ll help you take him out.”

  Sasha turned back to face Dez, sliding into his embrace as though she never left. “Does that mean we’re staying?”

  “Yea—”

  Her kiss came in fast. He might’ve bit his lip a little, but then her tongue came in to caress it and all was forgiven.

  “That’s enough,” Otis said, tugging at Sasha’s shirt. “You can have him all night. Right now, I need my sergeant at arms.”

  Sasha groaned as Dez stepped away. Sergeant at arms. He didn’t think anyone would ever call him that again.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Sasha

  Sasha pushed her empty plate aside. The pound of spaghetti she just sucked down better digest itself quickly or she’d be waddling from a massage parlor as it burned around her.

  Dez slammed his empty glass of whiskey on the table, drawing everyone’s gaze. “Why can’t I go with Sasha?”

  “I need you with me,” Otis said. “The building we’re hitting is supposed to have an underground fight club in the basement. Sasha’s just lighting up a massage parlor. It’s small, easy.”