by Bethany-Kris
“Yeah, Ry here.” Ryan nodded, scribbled something onto one of his books and said, “That’s going to be twelve-twenty-five.”
Adriano waved at the waitress passing their table and asked for a drink.
“Listen, the line is twenty-five, so either you pay or don’t,” Ryan barked. “Make it up, it’s not my problem. You know where I’m at. I’ll be here for the rest of the night.”
Ryan hung up the call and tossed his phone back to the table.
“The high lines are going to fucking kill us,” Ryan said after a moment.
“Maybe not. If they want to play bad enough, they’ll pay.”
“True. We good?”
Adriano nodded. “I’ll be back next Friday. Don’t fuck me on the bottom line, Ryan.”
The bookie smirked. “I would never.”
“I should hope not. The last bookie got his fingers cut off for skimming. Kolin made a necklace out of them and made the guy wear them for a week before he finally put the fool out of his misery. I watched—it was interesting.”
Ryan’s amusement faded fast. “It’ll all be on the up, Skip.”
“Make sure of it.”
“I’ll have the books all out so you can see,” Ryan said.
Adriano knew the guy wouldn’t screw him over, but sometimes, he felt the need to remind people of what would happen if they tried. Fear was a great motivator in that way. Standing from the table, Adriano took the drink the waitress brought to him.
“On the house, Conti,” the girl said.
Her smile was too wide and she seemed to have tugged her shirt down a little lower from what it was before she disappeared behind the bar.
Adriano wasn’t interested.
“Have a good night, Tori,” Adriano said.
He downed the whiskey in one go, handed her back the glass, and made his way out of the bar. The early October night was chilly and a wind whipped harshly, making Adriano tighten his leather jacket and shove his hands in his pockets.
Winter was coming way too soon.
Adriano slid inside his unlocked, still-running Camaro. Nobody was stupid enough to steal his baby in these streets. They all knew who he was on sight. And they knew his car. Turning the heaters up a little higher, he enjoyed the hot air blasting into his face as he surveyed the busy street filled with people. Chicago was a melting pot for all different characters.
He pulled his coat off and tossed it into the passenger seat. His night wasn’t even close to being over yet. Another group in the Conti crew was planning a heist on a truck of electronics later that evening and a shipment of narcotics had finally passed through the right hands and got on their territory.
Adriano needed to oversee all that shit.
Yeah, tedious.
The ring of his cell phone from inside his jacket pocket brought him from his thoughts. Adriano almost ignored it, figuring it was just another one of his guys wanting something else, but he searched for the phone anyway.
Adriano didn’t bother to look at the screen as he picked up the call with, “Yeah, Conti speaking. Get it out and fast. I’m fucking busy.”
He put his car in forward and began to maneuver the vehicle out of the tight space.
“Adriano?”
Alessa’s soft, timid voice made Adriano slam on the breaks. Something in her tone was off. It tasted of distress and he didn’t like that at all.
“Alessa?” he asked.
“He did it again,” Alessa whispered.
A car honked their horn behind Adriano. He rolled down his window enough to flip them the middle finger.
“Who did what?” Adriano demanded.
“Dean,” she said quickly and quietly. “Not like the last time, but he might have if—”
“The last time,” he interjected. “Like the club last time?”
“It wasn’t like that.”
What the fuck was it like then?
Adriano’s rage grew into a hot ball in his midsection. “What happened?”
“He noticed the ring.”
Fuck.
“And?” he pressed.
Alessa’s laugh was bitter and sad. “He squeezed my hand hard enough to leave bruises and he cut my palms with his fingernails.”
Sweet Jesus.
Adriano’s anger blew out of control, but his guilt was close behind. He knew better than to take that goddamn ring away and leave Alessa to deal with the consequences, but his selfishness and possessiveness demanded he take the fucking thing.
“But he was angry, Adriano. He would have come at me had someone not been there. I know it.”
“When did this happen?”
“This afternoon,” Alessa explained.
“And you’re only telling me now?”
“He forced me out to dinner with him, but I got Abriella to tag along. And then he cut it short, saying something about work or whatever.”
Thank fucking God, Adriano thought.
“Who was around when it happened, Lissa?”
“The cook. She explained it away with an excuse about me losing it making stuff for Joel’s party next week.”
“Party?” he asked.
“I don’t know what she’s talking about,” Alessa said. “But Joel mentioned opening the books a few days ago.”
Adriano’s jaw ticked as his hand tightened around the steering wheel. There had been rumors on the streets about the books being opened, but no one had any real confirmation about it.
“If she’s cooking, that means she intends for it to happen there, right?” Adriano asked.
“I would think so.”
Adriano’s initiation into the Outfit had also happened inside the Trentini home. He could remember in fine detail the events of that night. His palm had been cut from the tip of his index finger all the way down to his wrist. He then watched his blood pour across the face of a burning saint as questions were thrown at him one after the other from more men than he cared to count.
The scar was still there, but faded.
The honking of a horn echoed behind Adriano’s Camaro. He flipped the idiot the middle finger again. The fool, whoever it was, could wait.
“I don’t want him to do this to me again,” Alessa said, a heat coloring up her words. “Ever, Adriano. I’m so fucking stressed out I can’t even eat or stay awake in the daytime. It frightened me enough today that I got physically sick from it.”
Adriano held his breath, refusing to let the string of cusses roll off his tongue like he wanted. That, and Alessa didn’t need to hear it. Clearly she had a rough enough day as it was.
Dean wouldn’t get the chance to do that to Alessa again.
Adriano would make sure of it.
“You’re okay right now?” he asked.
“Yeah. I just needed to talk to you.”
Dean earned his goddamn death tonight. He supposed it was time to give the Artino bastard exactly what he deserved. Adriano had waited far too long to deliver some pain on Dean as it was. He’d waited for his father’s call, but Riley hadn’t given it yet. Maybe he never would.
Adriano was done waiting.
You couldn’t hurt an angel and expect to survive it.
Adriano checked the clock on the dash. “It’s late, pretty girl. Get some sleep, hmm? I’ll call you tomorrow after you’ve had some time to rest.”
“Okay,” she murmured, a hint of a smile in her tone.
“I love you.”
He figured she needed to hear that again, too.
“Love you,” Alessa whispered.
Adriano cruised the streets of South Shore, knowing he’d find who he was looking for if he was patient enough. Dean Artino was a fucking nobody in Adriano’s world. He didn’t have any real status or power, and Dean’s father didn’t scare Adriano, either.
But Dean was still a soldier for the DeLuca crew. That meant, if he was working, he’d be at one of his usual haunts or dirtying up the streets of his regular grounds. Dean seemed to favor the outskirts of South Beach.
That’s where Adriano went looking for him.
The moment Adriano saw a face he recognized stepping out of a strip joint, he jerked his car over to the side of the road, left it running in hostile territory, and got out. Adriano left his gun in the car, figuring he wouldn’t need it right then.
“Hey!” Adriano barked.
The enforcer Adriano recognized, a guy who worked for the DeLuca crew, turned at the call. The guy’s eyes widened when he saw Adriano making his way across the parking lot.
It was fucking stupid.
So reckless.
Adriano knew better than to be causing issues in someone else’s territory, but he couldn’t calm the rage waging a war inside his head and heart.
Screw Dean.
It was over for him.
“Where the fuck is Artino?” Adriano asked.
The enforcer blinked. “What?”
“Artino, asshole. Where is he tonight?”
“Walter?”
“No, his useless cunt of a son,” Adriano growled.
Adriano stopped walking when he was toe-to-toe with the enforcer. The guy was built like a brick shit house and tall, too. It didn’t matter to Adriano. He was just as tall and built, too. All those years of football playing a line-backer toughened him up and he wasn’t afraid of a hit.
“Are you fucking deaf?” Adriano asked.
“No.”
“Then stop staring at me like I’m not speaking English, you idiot. Where is Artino?”
The enforcer looked Adriano up and down like maybe the guy was thinking of taking a swing. “I’m pretty sure I’m drunk.”
“You don’t know the difference?” Adriano asked, sneering.
“No, but there’s a Conti on DeLuca territory and everybody knows Theo said he’d kill any fucker who was stupid enough to cross over.”
Adriano smirked. “Theo isn’t here.”
“Good thing for you.”
He wasn’t worried about Theo DeLuca tonight. They would battle that shit out another day.
“Where is Dean?” Adriano demanded. “And if I have to ask again, I’m going to break my knuckles on all of your teeth. Do you get that?”
“Last I heard, he was in Calumet Heights working some shit.”
“Where in the Heights?”
The enforcer laughed. “You ever been there?”
Yes.
It was not a particularly safe place at night sometimes.
“I didn’t realize I was playing twenty questions,” Adriano said.
“You’ll find him,” the enforcer replied. “Dean likes to make people think he owns the place. Just watch the streets, Conti. You shouldn’t be here. Take that as your only warning.”
Adriano was already walking back to his car before the enforcer had finished talking. He had a job to do, and that didn’t include worrying about Theo DeLuca.
Adriano could feel the cold air wrapping around his still form as he sat in his car, waiting. He’d parked his car between two other dark colored vehicles, turned off the engine and cut the lights to keep from being noticed. Or rather, he hoped someone who recognized his old, restored Camaro would just pass it by.
So far, he’d done okay.
Adriano found Dean like the enforcer said he would. Apparently Dean was collecting payments from dealers on the corners with another man from Theo’s crew. A guy Adriano knew Theo DeLuca kept close, like a best friend.
Sometimes, with things like this, it was all about the wait.
There was a problem with waiting, too. The longer Adriano sat there, watching Dean collect cash as the fool leaned against the window of a shoddy looking apartment building, the bigger his anger grew.
For the marks on Alessa’s face that had faded.
For the ones Dean had put on her today.
For making Alessa scared or treating her like she was shit.
For Dean thinking he had any right to Adriano’s girl.
For fucking breathing.
Adriano had a dozen more reasons. He had a whole list. These were good enough. These were more than enough to make his body numb with rage and his mind colder than ice. It was simply enough to kill the man.
Another car drove by the apartment building and slipped into the alley like the fifteen others had already done earlier in the night. Adriano watched as Dean and Theo’s friend pushed off the building and disappeared into the alley behind the car to collect another payment.
Adriano moved then. He turned the car on and left it running as he got out, slammed the door, and crossed the road. By the time he came to the mouth of the alleyway, the car was already reversing out.
Money, bad money, always exchanged hands quickly. Nobody wanted to stay there longer than necessary.
Quick and dirty.
That’s how the streets were run.
The two dark-skinned men in the car didn’t give Adriano a second look as their car passed him by. He moved into the darkness of the alley to find Dean and Theo’s friend stuffing cash into a black bag before they tossed it under a dumpster.
Theo’s man turned around first, coming face to face with Adriano.
He’d apologize to Theo for this … eventually. Someday, if Theo ever gave him the chance to.
“Evening,” Adriano said.
It was the only thing he gave in warning before he pulled his gun out, cocked back the hammer and put a single bullet between the man’s eyes. The high calibre weapon had a mighty kickback, but Adriano barely flinched. Blood and matter flew backwards with the body before it dropped to the ground with a thud.
Dead.
Just like that.
Before the guy even hit the ground, he was gone.
The sound of the gun going off reverberated throughout the alley. This was the kind of area where cops showing up was commonplace. Pretty soon, Adriano knew he would hear the red, white, and blue coming. He had to get this done and over with, despite how much he wanted to make Dean fucking hurt.
Adriano didn’t blink, he just turned his gun on a wide-eyed Dean.
“Evening,” Adriano repeated.
It came off calm enough, but anyone with any brains would know that a calm Adriano was a dangerous one.
Dean’s hand twitched before he reached for whatever was under his jacket. Adriano didn’t hesitate to shoot again. The bullet entered Dean’s wrist. His scream shattered through the alley.
Adriano moved forward as Dean scrambled backwards, falling to the ground in the process.
“Should have fucking known,” Dean spat.
Adriano chuckled. “That she was mine? Yeah, you probably should have known.”
“No, that she was still acting like a little whore with trash like you.”
Trash.
That was a new one.
Adriano was more pissed off about the whore comment.
Dean grappled for the gun at his waist again with his good hand, but he was too late. Adriano kicked Dean in the stomach, knocking the weapon far away. He then slammed his booted foot down on Dean’s injured, bleeding wrist.
“Shit!” Dean howled. “Fuck you, Adriano.”
“Try again,” Adriano taunted, putting his weight down on Dean’s wrist. “Something to make this quicker, maybe.”
“I hope she was worth it,” Dean jeered.
Adriano bent down and shoved the barrel of his gun into Dean’s mouth as he grabbed him around the throat and squeezed. The guy struggled, refusing to open his mouth all the way. Adriano pulled the gun back just far enough for it to hurt when he smacked the butt straight into Dean’s teeth.
Dean shouted before spitting blood, saliva and chipped teeth to the ground. It gave Adriano the opening he needed to shove the gun far enough into Dean’s mouth that the man gagged around the barrel. Adriano squeezed Dean’s throat again, using the weight advantage he had over the guy to keep him pinned to the ground.
“I’d do so much fucking worse to you,” Adriano hissed. “I’d cut your fucking tongue out for breathing a bad wo
rd about Alessa. I’d break your fucking fingers for touching her in a way that hurt her. I’d take a hammer to your face for looking at her, asshole. I would make you beg to die.”
Dean clenched his bloody mouth around the barrel of the gun, staring Adriano in the eyes.
“But I get to keep her,” Adriano murmured, smiling coldly. “And you don’t. So this works, too. Lights out, Dean.”
Adriano shoved the gun in harder until it touched the back of Dean’s throat and then he pulled the trigger. He couldn’t remember a time when killing had ever felt better.
“Hello?”
Alessa’s tired, groggy voice made Adriano smile. He didn’t know why exactly he had called her, but the very second he had gotten back into Conti territory, his girl had been the one and only person on his mind.
“Hey, Lissa,” Adriano said, pulling his car over into a vacant parking lot.
“Adriano?”
“Who else calls you at twelve at night, babe?”
Alessa laughed quietly. “No one. I thought you told me to sleep. I can’t do that when you call me, you know.”
Adriano grinned, ignoring the blood on his hands and the worry in his mind. He’d made a rash decision. He had let his anger control him and did something he was surely going to have to pay for. Killing Dean and Theo’s man was unlikely to go unanswered in some way. Neither of them had been made men, but someone would be pissed.
Dean’s father, for one. Theo, for two.
Worth it.
Adriano’s anxiety was still hard to ignore. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”
“Oh?” Alessa whispered.
“Yeah. Best thing ever, Lissa.”
“Mmm, you’re smooth.”
“My mom used to say I was slick,” Adriano said.
Alessa grew quiet for longer than he liked before she said, “You don’t really talk about her anymore.”
“It hurts a lot when I do, so I just don’t.”
“Talk now,” she demanded softly.
“I miss her and it’s not easier, but I don’t blame anyone,” Adriano said honestly. “I don’t want apologies from people or their pity. My mom has nothing to do with this war, Lissa. I won’t make it out like she does. That’d just be a ruin to her memory. She was better than bullets and blood, you know?”
