Crossfire (Rarissime Book 1)

by Anna Widzisz

  Worse than Elio beating Hunter before.

  Much worse.

  Elio's green eyes were more ferocious than a tiger’s. A thin paper cigarette hung from his bottom lip, a small trail of smoke escaping from the corner of his mouth dancing its way to the ceiling. In one hand a gun lied loosely, adding to the worry coiling in her stomach. His eyebrow raised in amusement at her reaction; nothing, not a flinch, not a single damn thing.

  Whatever fear there was within her, she refused to let it show.

  Stopping a few feet from him, she glanced at her boss once more. He was shaking and close to crying. No one had touched him, Elio wasn't even interested in him at that very moment, but he knew what was coming.

  "Why am I not surprised that you're still here?" he asked rhetorically. Yet Savannah felt the need to say something to that. Letting Elio believe that her putting additional time into her job wasn't wise. It could only bring additional suffering to Hunter if the Enforcer was to think that it was his doing.

  She shook her head slightly. "It just took more time to clean up after closing."

  Elio didn't seem to believe the words but didn't comment. He pointed to the empty spot on the other side of the table. "Sit, Savannah."

  Nothing. She was standing paralyzed. The man wasn't annoyed by her presence. And he sure as hell wasn't sending her home like last time.

  "I'm not going to repeat myself, baby girl. If you refuse me, there will be hell to pay," he hissed. "Sit down."

  She complied. Right now she wasn't even certain if her legs wouldn’t give in under her, anyway. The order was loud and clear. The tone of his voice dangerous. Terrifying.

  Savannah took a seat, digging her nails in the leather material, trying keep at bay the looming panic attack. Her lips pursed as she turned her head towards the already closed windows. No one would be able to see anything that was happening inside.

  That had probably been Elio’s intention from the start.

  Elio sighed and got up. "Take the chair from the corner and, you too, sit down, Hunter."

  Unlike Savannah, her boss obeyed at once while Elio closed the doors to the diner and rolled down the curtain himself. He then turned on the light under the cabinet by the counter and turned off the one on the ceiling. Everything went darker and an irresistible feeling that she wasn't going to leave this place settled in.

  She curled her legs under the seat, hugging it as tightly as possible.

  The mafioso walked up to Hunter, took his own chair and sat in front of him. The back of it pressed to his chest, his legs on both sides. The gun was still in his palm, however, his finger now rested on the trigger. He didn't squeeze yet, but surely believed that there might come a point when he’d have to do it.

  "It's come to my attention that you have been in contact with the wrong people, Hunter," he said, smirking. Then he took the cigarette in between his fingers and blew the smoke in the man's face, making him cough. "Do you have something to confess?"

  Hunter was clearly scared but still, he refused to speak the truth. It might've even been a good move if not for the fact that Elio already knew more than enough. Those weren't just rumors. Those were facts. He wasn't trying to bait the man.

  Elio ticked. "I have time, old man."

  Silence.

  Still nothing.

  Savannah exhaled loudly and looked at the Enforcer. "Elio."

  He lifted his hand, silencing her. "You're here to observe."

  The thing was - she didn't want to. And she didn't know why he felt the need to keep her there with them. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Nothing she could recall at least.

  "Why?"

  "Well, I don't know, Savannah. How about you coming to my father's fucking club? I cannot remember actually telling you it would be okay for you to ever be there," he seethed, anger lacing his voice.

  Just coming there, she’d put him in a bad situation. She’d brought the attention of several Made Men upon her by showing up. Let alone that she’d randomly confessed her boss' sins, giving Elio ammunition against Hunter. No person had done that before and it was fucking strange for all the men who had been let in on the fact later. No one had to know about Savannah. If she’d figured out another way of contacting him, privately, things have been different.

  But anger had been brewing in him because of her misguided decision. Now, he was fairly certain that Father would dig deeper as to why something like this happened and who Savannah was to his son.

  "One last chance, Hunter," he warned the man, however, he didn't feel like waiting anymore. He pushed from the chair and kicked the owner in the chest, making him tumble down to the floor. The chair shattered.

  Savannah shrieked, covering her mouth with her hands. Tears appeared in her eyes.

  Elio attaching the silencer on his gun and pulled the trigger. A bullet ripped through Hunter's shoulder, blood gushing out a once.

  "Stop," Savannah begged but wasn't able to move. She looked away.

  The Enforcer laughed and with his whole body's weight, he stepped on the wound. A loud scream resonated. And as if with a magic wand, Hunter started spilling out his secrets. One by one, he talked about the Bratva, who was involved, and what they wanted from him. Everything. Just to make Elio stop.

  But it wouldn't be over. By revealing his secrets, like the fucking pussy that he was, he’d simply sped up to the most thrilling part for Elio.

  Torture.

  "I was supposed to take you back to Father and let him dish out the punishment. But you're not worth dirtying my car," he commented, taking out the knife and putting the gun in his holster. "I'm not wasting perfectly good bullets on you, either."

  Savannah's chest heaved, bile burning in the back of her throat. Her vision was blurred because of the tears that kept rolling down her cheeks. Her stomach flipped, and just when she thought she was getting close to screaming her lungs out, she collapsed to her knees. She watched as Elio rammed his knees in the man's ribs, carving his body.

  Deep cuts.

  Blood.

  So much blood.

  "Oh, shut the fuck up, fucker," Elio grunted, rolling his eyes.

  He looked back at Savannah and extended his hand. It was already red. Blood drops fell down from it onto her thighs. She shook her head. She wasn't sure what he wanted from her but she refused to give him anything.

  Her stomach did another flip.

  "Give me your apron, baby girl," he ordered but seeing as the girl was barely aware of anything happening around her, he cut through the strings and ripped it from her hips before shoving the material down Hunter's throat. "Better."

  The blade landed inside the old man's arm, tearing through veins and sinewy muscle and only stopped as it reached the bone. The sound made Savannah dizzy. Her head throbbed under the pressure. It was too much.

  Too much for Hunter.

  Too much for her.

  Suddenly, the ringing in her ears was all she heard. She saw an outline of Elio's lips as he was turned towards her, saying something, but she couldn't hear him. She sobbed and hugged her knees to her chest, bringing her hands to her ears. She started rocking herself, blocking everything.

  It was her fault.

  She didn't know how much time had passed before she gathered the remains of her courage to open her eyes and look.

  Fingernails spread around the floor.

  Blood covered the floor, the walls, seats. Reaching her.

  And for some reason, she crawled closer to Hunter even if she could no longer recognize him. She put her palm down and it slid, causing her chest to nearly touch the bloodstain close to the man's severed hand.

  Her eyes zoned in on what had made her slip in the first place.

  A tongue.

  Elio had cut off Hunter’s tongue and her hand had skidded on it.

  Another flip. She felt sick and before she knew the contents of her stomach spilled onto the floor. Whatever little she’d eaten today was all in front of her now.

  Then she heard
a slashing sound as Elio for the last time used his knife and tore through the windpipe. Blood splattered all around.

  The Enforcer regarded her as he put the knife back. He was covered in blood. Savannah couldn't bring herself to look at him. All she saw were his shoes. He was getting closer before he grabbed her arms and hoisted her up.

  "Do not show weakness, baby girl. As far as anyone is concerned, you are emotionless. This will always be a buffer for pain," she heard him say.

  The dizziness increased and when she lost the support coming from Elio's tight grip, her legs shook and she crumpled like a rag doll.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Her eyes were heavy as she tried to open them time and time again. The throbbing of her head became unbearable and her whole body felt as if it had gone through its own personal hell - burning and shaking from the pain it was in.

  She swallowed, her throat dry and sore. And she knew that she needed to drink. Her body reacted to dehydration as she remembered that the last time she’d had any liquid was just before work.

  Work.

  Images of all she'd witnessed flashed in her mind. Her heart sped up and she drew her hand up to her chest. Another wave of pain shot through her body.

  The deep breath she forced herself to take was supposed to calm her yet she felt like she was drowning without the possibility to come out for air. The fingernails spread on the floor, the cut-off tongue... And then this awful sound of the knife slicing across the throat. The deep cut. The blood spatter drenching everything around her.

  It could not be true.

  She didn't see that.

  That's what she kept on whispering to herself, squeezing her eyes shut when the tears threatened to escape. Scars always left their mark. And mental marks were the worst kind of torture she could think of. A vision of all those times she couldn't take it.

  She had many of those to prove.

  Another one had just found its way inside her head.

  "You should drink some water. I put the glass right next to you."

  She realized that she was no longer alone. Elio was there as well and her fear escalated. She opened her eyes wide. Then she glanced at the pillow that she was halfway laying on, noticing that it was stained red.

  Blood.

  A shiver travelled up her spine. The adrenaline kicked in as she rose, completely ignoring the pain she was in. The blanket that she was covered with slumped, revealing her half-naked body. She was only wearing her bra and panties. Her skin rough with goosebumps.

  The shadows exposed Elio's muscular figure as he slowly approached her, stopping at the frame of the bed. He wanted to give her space, knowing that she was terrified as it was. She tried to compose herself, push away the thoughts of Hunter's dead and nearly dismembered body.

  Something was telling her to be careful. Each gesture, word could bring her death just as easily. The last thing she would see then would be this smirk that had graced Elio's face as he had taken the knife to the man's throat.

  Slashed.

  No regret.

  No guilt.

  Nothing.

  Despite all the abuse she had experienced as a child and later as a teenager, she had never in her wildest dreams realized that there was something worse waiting for her. That whatever images she'd had in her head till this point were to be replaced by a cold-blooded murder.

  And it was all her fault.

  Savannah could barely handle the Enforcer's presence in the same room but looking into his eyes and seeing that monstrous satisfaction was out of the question.

  The bed moved slightly as Elio pushed his hands against the frame, leaning on it. He was staring right at her. She could feel the intensity nearly burning her from within. She ripped away her sheets, standing up and sprinted towards the room’s ajar doors.

  "Savannah," she heard his voice. Calm and collected.

  And she had every intention to leave it far behind but the moment she grabbed the handle, she felt his hands on her hips. The pressure on them made her whirl around. Her back crashed against the wooden texture.

  A sob escaped her lips, tears finding its way into her mouth. The taste was salty and brought even more memories that Savannah had tried hard to forget about.

  A futile act.

  "Savannah," Elio whispered, cupping her cheeks. His breath caressed her skin. A minty scent mixed with nicotine.

  She turned her head, hoping that the man would remove his hands. He loosened his grip, barely touching her seeing as the girl was scared of what those hands had done not long ago.

  He was dead.

  Gone.

  Because of her.

  "Look at me," he said softly.

  No response.

  "Savannah," he tried again. This time he was more demanding. She felt his fingers on her skin as he was rubbing her jaw with his thumb. He needed her to calm down. "Look at me."

  This time it sounded like an order and Savannah felt in her bones, quickly following his words. Her vision blurred because of the tears, however, she still saw those piercing eyes that now reminded her of death.

  "You're safe."

  If she weren't completely numb, she would've laughed at the words that were nothing more than a lie. He was a liar. A murderer.

  A Made Man.

  "His battle is never going to be yours, baby girl," Elio promised as if it that was supposed to heal her wounds. Repair the scars that studded her mind after each situation she'd been a victim of.

  Her breath slowed down.

  She fucking calmed down.

  Why was this assurance enough? She didn't believe his words, did she? Words were just that - words. They were good anchors for control, nothing more. They fell through the air like confetti to appease the eyes for a single second just for people to stump on them the next. They were fleeting.

  She swallowed, regaining control over her body. It was still banged up, however, that wasn't on her mind right now.

  Elio wiped away her tears and she saw his eyes clearly. Worry shone in them and even the darkness that surrounded them, with just the moonlight providing a sliver of light, she still recognized this flicker of humanity.

  Something that she started doubting immediately. Elio Conte wasn't capable of such trivial emotions.

  Her hands went up. They were covered in the remnants of where they'd been - pressed against the floor where Hunter’s body had been laying on. Blood had coated it entirely. The horror of the night as real as ever.

  And with every intention of smothering her fear, Elio slipped his fingers in hers, drawing their hands to his chest. His heartbeat was a metronome, keeping the rhythm of her own at a steady pace. He was still staring at her.

  His touch was no longer a problem. She reluctantly admitted it to herself.

  "I don't want to hurt you. You are safe with me," he said as his lips pressed a kiss against her forehead. The intense smell of his cologne enveloped her. Her breath completely steadied as her head fell against his chest. For some reason, she felt safe. One word and her body reacted.

  Maybe, after all, there was some power in words.

  Whether it was manipulation that Elio was using on her, she didn't know. And she could care less because it brought her peace at that very moment. As much as she feared the man's intentions, it was her action that had brought it upon them.

  Her fault.

  "Come," Elio whispered in her ear, wrapping his arm around her waist and led her towards the bed once again. He helped her sit on the mattress, then grabbed the glass of water that he had mentioned to her before. "Drink. It will help."

  She took it without question. The sensation in her throat grew more when she pressed the cool glass rim against her dry, cracked lips. A single drop of water traced its way inside her mouth and she savored it. Thick saliva lined immediately sapping any moisture that may have entered.

  Refreshed, it brought back a little bit of color to her face.

  And perhaps she should have been more careful as to what she
was doing. Taking a drink that was given her by someone who had just committed an atrocious murder was stupid. Yet after everything she couldn't care less if he wanted to poison her. Not at this moment.

  It was still not fine. This whole situation was extremely messed up and in a matter of a few minutes, it visualized all her worst nightmares that were to stay with her forever. What's more, she didn't blame Elio at all. Yes, she was scared of the lack of morals, of what might happen to her. But not directly of him.

  That alone changed her perspective on what was right and wrong. She should have known that after twenty years of life. After what she had been through. Yet she was giving in to Elio, unable to stay true to herself. Forgetting the past experiences that had shaped her into who she was today. The morals were blurred right now. Dangerously so.

  The man was making her question everything.

  And it should have been perceived as manipulation.

  Stupid girl. She, in fact, had never learned to distinguish it. She just thought she had. Whether Elio intended for it or not, it stimulated her reaction.

  Elio took the glass from her hands when she’d emptied it.

  He didn't regret his actions. At least not those that had anything to do with punishing and killing Hunter. The man knew what he had signed up for the moment he'd been approached by Russians. The Bratva was trying to settle in Las Vegas just like many other organizations in the States had before. The city was a goldmine thanks to the many possible ventures. Casinos, nightclubs and hotels. The legal branches that had perspectives to expand. But it was just as well a perfect place for the underground life - brothels, cage fights, cartels. If there was any wish of going into illegal businesses, Las Vegas was offering many ways of covering up those operations.

  Now, however, it was minimized as the Las Vegas Famiglia took over big parts of the state of Nevada. And the Bratva had lost their reach along with the money their activities had been bringing them.

  So no, he felt no remorse towards Hunter Gordon. He deserved what he got. There were warning signs. The beating didn't help. Then the conversation Elio'd had with him about a possible approach from other organizations. That was his window to confess his sins with a probability of surviving.