by CJ Bishop
And while he had the woman in custody—his son was under his control as well. If it took threats and manipulation to mold and shape Flynn into a true gangster, then so be it.
“Mr. Santiago?” Terrell pressed when silence met him. “Are we copasetic?”
“Yes.”
“I knew you would see it my way.” Terrell looked at Riccardo and the man chuckled. “I trust we can be gentlemanly about this acquisition. I would hate for things to get nasty. I’m sure you’re not eager to sit and watch while your girl is fucked six ways from Sunday. But I will make you watch if you give me any shit. Capisce?”
“I got it,” Cruz murmured with a tight rein on his anger.
“Be at the meeting spot in thirty minutes.” Terrell ended the call and spoke to Riccardo. “Call Hal. Find out what’s going on with Carter. Tell him and the others to hurry it up and get their asses home.”
Riccardo nodded and made the call.
One ring.
Two.
Five.
No answer.
Riccardo frowned and looked Terrell. “He’s isn’t picking up. He knows to immediately answer a call from me while he’s out on a job.”
Terrell rubbed his chin, eyes narrowing. “Call Flynn. Let me know if he picks up.” He walked toward the door. “I have some things to take care of.” He left the room as Riccardo made his call.
•
When Flynn’s cell hummed, the cowboy came forward and dug it from his pocket. He looked at the display then showed it to Flynn. “It’s from Riccardo,” Flynn told him then looked at Cruz. “If I don’t answer, he’ll know something’s wrong.”
“Fine,” Cruz said and took the phone from the cowboy. “But it’s going on speaker. You try to tip him off, and you’ll be dead before the words leave your mouth. Understand?”
Flynn nodded.
“Whatever you tell him, you make it convincing.” Cruz indicated for the others to stay silent, then turned on the speaker phone and held it in front of Flynn.
“About fucking time,” Riccardo snapped.
“Sorry,” Flynn said. “The fucking phone was stuck in my pocket.”
“What the fuck is going on? Why isn’t Hal answering his god damn phone?”
Flynn glanced at the men standing around, each of them watching him with cool warning in their eyes. “We had some trouble with the guy. He got into a scuffle with Hal and broke Hal’s cell.”
“Let me talk to him.”
Flynn hesitated only a moment. “He isn’t right here,” he said. “I’m at the car. Hal, Cullen, and Carter are restraining the man. I see now why Carter needed help with him. He’s a tough motherfucker.”
“Well, deal with him and get your asses in gear. The boss wants you back here as soon as possible.”
“All right. We’ll be there.”
A brief silence, then Riccardo’s voice took on a more relaxed, amused edge. “By the way, I’ve been keeping your girlfriend company. I think she kind of likes me. I know I kind of like her. That pussy of hers tastes real good.”
Flynn jerked against his restraints. “You fuck! If you touched her, I swear to God, I’ll rip your fucking cock off with my bare hands!”
“Calm down. I’m just fucking with you. Or am I?” He chuckled. “Guess you’ll have to wait till you get home to see. Don’t take too long, though. I’m cocked and ready to fuck. I don’t know how much longer I can convince my dick to behave himself.”
Flynn’s chest heaved, his breath surging through his nostrils. It was hard to know if the fucker was joking or not. He didn’t trust him, though. Not one fucking bit. The men listening in had taken on facial expressions that mirrored what Flynn was feeling; if the motherfucker had touched her—he was fucking dead.
“For your sake,” Flynn rasped. “You better just be fucking with me.”
“I’m really disappointed in you, kid,” Riccardo sighed. “I can’t believe how quickly this bitch wrapped your dick around her little finger. What’s even more disappointing is that you let your heart get involved. I think maybe I’d be doing you a favor if I took her out of the picture—and freed your cock from her grasp. I’m a good friend. I might just do that for you, buddy.”
“We are not friends, asshole,” Flynn hissed, straining against the chair, his neck cords popping as he clenched his jaw. “I will kill you—you sick fuck. Leave her the fuck alone.”
Cruz’s resolve was wearing thin, his face pinched in fury. He started to jerk the phone back and have his say when the cowboy grabbed his arm and shook his head.
Riccardo dropped the humor. “First of all, boy—you ever threaten my life for real, I will cut you down so fucking fast your head will spin. Don’t think for one fucking second I can’t turn your life to hell in the blink of an eye. I did it once—I can do it again.” The line went dead.
Flynn sat rigidly, heart pounding. I did it once—I can do it again. What the fuck was he talking about?
•
Cruz took his chair again and looked at the troubled young man. The instant change that had taken place in him the moment Caterina was threatened convinced Cruz that he was a greater ally than he was an enemy. “What did he mean he did it once and could do it again? What was he talking about?”
Flynn’s brow cinched hard, his eyes on the floor. “I don’t know.” He swallowed and raised his head. “It isn’t going to take them long to figure out I was lying. When I don’t show up, they’ll keep calling. More excuses and they’ll know I’m bullshitting them. If they find out that you killed three of theirs, they’ll immediately want three of your men delivered to them to even the score.”
“They’ll inevitably discover their men are dead,” Clint said. He looked at Flynn, his stare unnerving the younger man. “You need to figure out where you stand and who you’re going to stand with. What is your end game? To save the girl?” He glanced at Cruz. “Or to kill Cruz, for a murder he didn’t commit? You need to decide right fucking now.”
Flynn’s anxious eyes darted between Clint and Cruz. “I want to save Caterina.” Even if that wasn’t true, he would have had to say it to save his own life. But Cruz saw the truth of his words in his eyes.
Clint did as well. The cowboy took out his knife and cut the ropes loose. He nodded at Rodriguez who produced the key for the handcuffs and freed Flynn’s hands. When Flynn rose cautiously to his feet, Clint jabbed him in the chest with his finger. “You turn on us, boy, and get even one of our men killed—I’ll skin you alive and feed your flesh to my dog. Do we have an understanding?”
Cruz slid his hand over his mouth, concealing a small amused smile; feed his flesh to his dog? The cowboy’s threat gave the impression he had a big badass canine beast—rather than the cute, cuddly little lab puppy that he’d given to his boyfriend just to make him smile. Watching Clint with Axel, and their puppy, one would never guess how dangerous and deadly the cowboy could become when it came to protecting his own.
“Yes,” Flynn answered, swallowing hard.
“Go back,” Clint said. “Tell them the guy Carter apprehended got a hold of one of the guns and shot your men, and that you barely got away.”
Flynn nodded. “My car is back at the other place.”
“I’ll give you a ride halfway home, then you walk. Tell them you didn’t have a chance to get to your car.” Clint turned to Cruz. “You be fucking careful. Cooperate with the fuckers as much as you can. We know where you’re at and we’re coming for you and your girl.” He glanced at Flynn. “And you.”
Cruz nodded slowly. “I’ll be okay.”
“You fucking better be.” Sanchez came to him and wrapped him in his arms, kissing him hard…then softer. He touched his head to Cruz’s brow and whispered, “I want to say something to you, right here, right now.” He swallowed thickly. “Cruz, I-”
Cruz shook his head and hugged him tight. “Tell me when I get back.” He touched his face and kissed his lips. “I have something to say to you, too…when I get home.”
&n
bsp; When he left them a few minutes later to head out to the pickup spot, he called his father and explained the situation. “Papá, I’m going to bring Caterina home. I promise.”
The older man was quiet, then murmured with deep emotion, “I know you will, mijo. You are very brave and smart. I am so proud of you.”
“Thank you, papá,” Cruz said thickly.
“Te amo, mijo.”
His throat working, Cruz whispered, “I love you, too, papá.”
•
Flynn sat in the backseat of the cowboy’s car. The Egyptian rode shotgun and spoke very little. Flynn studied the back of the cowboy’s head; for nine years, he had been one of the two people Flynn had most wanted to kill. Up close, neither the cowboy nor Cruz proved to be the cold-blooded killers he had imagined them to be since he was thirteen, despite how quickly and efficiently they had taken out Hal and Cullen.
Still, one thing bothered him and he no longer knew if he could take his father’s word for it.
“The day my mom was killed,” Flynn murmured. “Why did you and Cruz and your men attack us?”
The cowboy stared ahead. “What were you told?”
“That your two families wanted to take over, and you attacked us to wipe us out so you could run the city.”
The cowboy chuffed. “You believe that?”
“I did,” Flynn admitted. “Before.”
“And now?”
“I don’t know. Was that why you attacked us?”
The cowboy fell silent and didn’t seem like he would answer. Finally, he said, “No. Your father and his men attacked Cruz’s family. He was the one who wanted to take over. Believe it or don’t. No one can tell you what to believe. You got to figure that out on your own.”
Flynn didn’t know the cowboy, but he did know his father. And the cowboy’s story felt more authentic than his father’s. It coincided with who and what Terrell Pisano was.
When the car pulled to the curb, idling, Flynn opened his door.
“Kid,” the cowboy stopped him and turned his head, looking at Flynn. “When was the last time your life turned to hell?”
Flynn frowned, uncertain. “The day my mom died.”
The cowboy nodded, his eyes piercing. “Think about that.”
What did he mean by that? Flynn wondered as he exited the car. As the cowboy drove away, though, Riccardo’s words came back to him.
Don’t think for one fucking second I can’t turn your life to hell in the blink of an eye. I did it once—I can do it again.
Flynn stared after the car…and understood just what the cowboy was telling him.
CHAPTER 30
“Of Mice & Men”
______________________________________________
After leaving the shower, Caterina couldn’t bring herself to wear her panties as they were damp from the fluids Riccardo had forced from her body. She dropped them in the small waste basket and pulled on her remaining clothes.
In the bedroom, she lay on the bed feeling queasy with dread, certain Riccardo would be back soon. When she forced her thoughts away from the man, they turned to Flynn.
I know this won’t mean anything to you…but I meant everything I said when we were together.
Caterina hugged her pillow and buried her face in the softness. There was truth in his words. Even when her mind insisted there wasn’t—her heart believed otherwise. “Why couldn’t you have been anyone but who you are?” she whispered. She had cut him off before he could tell her the truth of what was in his heart; I could have fallen in love with you. What good did it do her to know that now? Yet the harm it inflicted was great.
A light knock on the door jarred her from her thoughts and spiked her heartrate. She sat up quickly and slid back against the pillows, eyes wide as she watched to door open slowly. Her heart pounded furiously as she anticipated Riccardo’s entrance.
Terrell appeared instead. “I thought you might like a tour of the house.”
Caterina hesitated then slid off the bed; anything was better than sitting here waiting for Riccardo to come back.
The tour took them through various rooms and ended in a small library. A couple high-backed, cushioned armchairs were situated before a fireplace, each with their own side stand.
“This was my wife’s favorite room,” Terrell said. “She could spend hours in here, just reading. More often than not, Flynn would join her and she’d fill his mind with great works of literature.”
Caterina stared at the chairs and imagined Flynn as a young boy, gazing adoringly up at his mother as she read to him and taught him. As your father often read to you. Her heart ached. “That’s nice,” she whispered. “that they shared special time together. I’m sure they’re fond memories for Flynn.”
Terrell didn’t reply and walked over to the fireplace, then turned and faced her. “You see all this as a lovely thing?”
“Yes.”
“I see it as the ruination of my son. She never let me teach him to be a man.”
Caterina frowned. “He was a child. Maybe she wanted more for him than…” The man’s hard eyes silenced her.
“Than the life of a gangster?”
She nodded.
“That wasn’t her call to make,” Terrell said crisply. “He was my son, first and foremost. It is a father’s duty to teach his son to be a man. By the time it was just him and me, it was too late. He was soft, weak.”
Her blood sizzling, Caterina spoke without thinking. “So, you thought you could toughen him up by beating him?”
Terrell stared at her. “Is that what he told you? It’s not surprising he viewed discipline as abuse. His mother would never discipline him. And when I tried, she opposed me.”
It was curious that Terrell allowed her to do these things. He didn’t strike Caterina as a man who took orders from a woman. “Why didn’t you just do it anyway?”
Terrell huffed. “Because I was a man entranced by a beautiful woman. There is nothing more detrimental to a man’s good sense than a lovely woman who catches his eye…or stirs up his lust. I had no power against my wife. I saw her for the poison that she was, but could do nothing about it…for I was addicted to her charms.” His eyes gripped Caterina’s stare intensely. “Just as Flynn is addicted to yours. And as my wife was poison to me, you are the same to my son.”
You’re insane, Caterina thought with growing unease. More than ever, she pitied the boy that Flynn had been. “What are you worried about?” she asked quietly. “After all this, if I even survive, it isn’t as if Flynn and I will be seeing one another anymore.”
“Flynn won’t be so easily dissuaded,” Terrell said. “I see the way he looks at you, the way he protects you. His mind is not his own. He is possessed—by his affections for you.”
“I think you’re wrong,” she whispered, but did she really? “You said yourself that he hooked up with me just to get to Cruz.”
Terrell looked at her with heavy eyes. “Sadly, I was mistaken.”
•
“Well, well. The great and powerful Cruz Santiago.” The man smiled dryly as he approached Cruz. “Brought down by a woman.” He instructed the two men with him to restrain Cruz’s hands behind his back.
“You know my name,” Cruz said. “What is yours?” He recognized his voice from the phone call, but wanted it confirmed.
“Riccardo.”
“Well, Riccardo, as soon as we arrive at the house, I want to see Caterina.”
Riccardo gazed at him curiously. “You make demands as if you have any say in the matter. You belong to us now. Your rights are caput. Capisce? And if you give us trouble, your pretty little lady will be passed around to my men like a party favor.” He shook his head. “It’s always a sad day when a man is rendered helpless because of a woman. That isn’t the way God intended it. What has happened to the men of this world? You got another woman at home who leads you around by the cock? Or do you just screw your sister?”
Looking back at him dully, Cruz said, “You’
re going to die an ugly death.”
“When isn’t death ugly?” He turned and walked to the car as the other men led Cruz after him. “Put him in the front seat.” When they were well on their way, Riccardo asked, “Is it emasculating to know that your whole family will fall because of one woman?”
Cruz sighed. “What is your issue with women?” He looked at the man and cocked an eyebrow. “Didn’t your mama hug you enough when you were a little boy?”
Riccardo chuckled humorlessly—then punched Cruz in the face, knocking him against the passenger door. “Don’t speak to me as if we’re equals. You are nothing more than a filthy slave now. If I wanted to fuck your ass, your only response is to bend over and spread your cheeks. Got it?”
“I see now.” Cruz worked his jaw and smiled coolly.
“See what?”
“Why you’re so hateful toward women.”
“What?”
“Your little remark, about fucking me in the ass, cleared it right up.” He looked at the other man. “You’re a fag and you think that puts you on the same level as a woman. And being an alpha male, that humiliates you, so you deal with it by hating on women and pretending to be a womanizer. I mean, you sure as shit wouldn’t want your buddies to know you like to take it up the ass.”
Cruz anticipated the second punch to the face and it was delivered right on time, smashing his head into the window. “Shut your fucking mouth, you sick motherfucker!” Riccardo raged. “I’m no faggot!”
Laughing low, Cruz murmured, “Only a fag who desperately doesn’t want to be exposed would get this pissed off.”
“Any respectable straight man would get pissed for being called a faggot,” Riccardo growled. “No man wants that fucking label.”
Cruz smiled. “Well, I wouldn’t say no man. I know plenty of men who happily accept it.”
