He ruffles his hair again and keeps pacing. “You’re sure they won’t pin this back on us?”
“You keep making me repeat the plan and I’m going to start wondering if you’re wearing a fucking wire.”
Benny stops dead, his long face snapping toward me. I see the fear in his eyes. I feel a little shitty for putting him through it, but there’s no room for mercy in my line of work. I learned that the hard way. The real fucking hard way. I paid seven years for it, and if I have to be an asshole to stay on the streets, so be it..
“It’s okay, Damian. I got the plan, you don’t need to—”
“I’m just fucking with you, Benny. Relax. I’ll make it real simple for you, okay? We’re not getting my brother’s family involved in this. He has a family and a fucking wife to worry about. I’m not bringing any of this shit on him. So we’re doing this on our own. We look after ourselves, and we make our own way. In blood.”
Benny nods, sitting down and pulling at the patch of hair on his chin. “I just hope it’s not our own blood.”
I cross the room in a few quick strides and kneel in front of him, taking his face in both my hands. “It won’t be, because no one is as fucking vicious as we are. No one wants it as bad. The Sanatores ran their mouths and got us locked up, and if they had their way, we never would have got out. They need to pay. Okay? You and I, Benny. We’re going to be the guys. Once the Sanatores and Anastasios are done tearing each other apart, we’re going to step in and grab the power. You want protection around here? You come through us. You want someone hit? You come through us. You want to place a bet? Us.” I let him go and stand, moving to look out the back window at the clean small town and the clueless people outside. “As long as the Sanatores think the Anastasios were behind that shit we pulled at the gas station, we’re golden. We just need to sit back and watch the fireworks.
Ever since Callie walked into my restaurant last week and got the job, I’ve been finding more and more excuses to be at The Spot. Tonight she’s wearing a black skirt that is just short enough to make me think I might catch a glimpse of her ass when she kneels beneath the bar and just long enough to keep me from getting the payoff I want. If I’m going to see that ass of hers, it’s not going to be by accident, which is fine by me.
I lean out from the kitchen and find her pouring two drinks for a guy and his girl. The girl has had so much plastic surgery that she looks like Mrs. Fucking Potato and the guy must get botox or some shit because he looks permanently surprised. Callie notices me and nearly stumbles over the rubber mat on the ground. She catches herself in time and barely avoids spilling the two drinks before blowing a strand of hair from her face and setting them down in front of the guests.
I’m about to find an excuse to get her to come back to my office when a guy in a leather jacket approaches the bar. The place is packed, and I shouldn’t notice him in particular, but I do. I’ve been around assholes and violence too long not to spot it from a mile away. He’s looking for trouble.
If you fuck with Callie, you found trouble. Asshole.
I’m a little surprised at how protective I feel toward her already. Don’t I just want to take her out back and lay her over the hood of my car for a good fuck and then be done with it? Maybe.
The guy in the leather jacket flicks his sunglasses down over his eyes and leans back on the stool like he owns the place. With a smug grin, he snaps his fingers as Callie passes. I smile when she walks right past him even though she obviously heard him. He shifts in his chair, face twitching while she grabs a plate from another guest. This time he reaches over the bar and grabs her arm before she can pass him.
My hand is on his throat before I realize I’ve moved. Forks and knives screech on plates before a single moment of stunned surprise hushes the restaurant, and then the only sound is the rasp of his throat as he struggles for air. He grips at my forearm, trying to pry my hand away, but my grip is a steel vise and no amount of struggle is going to get him free. He’s trying to say something.
I let up my grip for a second. “What was that, asshole?” I ask.
“Fucking prick. Let me—”
I still have him by the neck as I lean partially over the bar. I shove him with one hand and watch with satisfaction as his stool slowly tips backward until he can’t right his balance. He tries to jump from the falling stool, but it brings him down with a loud thump. His head whips back and smacks into the ground.
Callie stands beside me. Her lips are pulled back slightly, either in a grimace or a smirk. I can’t tell which. Frankly, I don’t care. No one comes into my restaurant and touches my staff. I should take the fucker out back and put some hot lead in him. Seven years ago, I would have. I would have done a lot of shit if I hadn’t been ratted out. There’s no point though. The guy is crawling on all fours looking for his shades like a dog.
I turn my back on him and focus on Callie.
“You okay?” I ask, touching her arm. Just feeling her smooth skin gives me an electric jolt of excitement. I don’t know that I can drag this out much longer. She’s different from the women I’ve been with before. They were always easy, even the ones who wanted to play games and act like they were hard to get. It has always been that way with women. Not her. I don’t know what it is about her, but I want to find out more. I don’t know if just fucking her will be enough.
She jumps at my touch. “Yeah. I’ve dealt with assholes before. I’ll be fine.” The way she holds her glare on me says I’m one of those assholes. Can’t argue there.
I hear the door slam. Probably the guy leaving, but I don’t bother to turn and look. People gradually resume their conversations and soon the regular din of conversation has returned.
“Good. I’ll make sure he’s never allowed in here again.”
“Look,” she says. “I know you just wanted to help, but if I have to worry that my boss is going to strangle every guy who gives me a hard time, this is going to be a really stressful work environment.”
I smirk. Why does hearing her call me boss make me want to pin her to a wall and fuck her? “Fair enough. I’ll wait until you’re not watching next time.”
She rolls her eyes, but I can see the hint of a smile fighting to claim her mouth.
Benny slides a mask over his face and then gives me a thumbs up. I nod to him and he slips around the back of the grocery store. Jobs like this prickle at my dignity a little, but we need the cash. Once we are able to start going more public with recruitment, I’ll need the money for guns, payoffs, court fees, you name it. I’ve already set up a relatively steady stream of income from the restaurant and a few places we’ve shaken down for protection money, but we need more.
It’s starting to get late in the evening, and the grocery store is pretty packed. It’s not ideal, but we had to make our move when the trucks show up, and the good shit comes in now. Ripping off delivery trucks has been a staple of my business model. Most people don’t realize it, but if you have a way to offload the goods, you can make more money from robbing a truck than you can from emptying the safe at a store. Bulk groceries are where the money is. Each truck actually carries up to ten grand worth of food, which we can sell to our fences for five or six grand, depending on the day.
Benny should be working his way around back. I take a few minutes to grab a small shopping cart and fill it with some things: prosciutto, lasagna sheets, parmesan, mushrooms, a baguette, and the most expensive bottle of wine I can find. I casually roll the cart to the back of the store and wait by the door that leads to the loading bay. A young girl comes out of the door and I wheel my cart in before it closes.
Outside, I see Benny crouched near the large bay doors. A semi-truck is backed into the loading bay. Two high school kids are leaning by the door. One of them literally jumps when he sees me.
“Sir,” says the taller of the two. “You can’t be back here.”
I reach behind my back and pull my pistol free, racking a bullet in the chamber for dramatic effect. I’m not abo
ut to shoot some kids, but they don’t know that. Their faces go white.
“Please,” says the shorter kid who jumped.
“Just answer my questions and do what I say. Where is the truck driver?”
“H-he goes to the diner across the street while we unload.”
“Where does he leave the keys?”
“I-don’t...” starts the tall one.
“On the tire,” interrupts the short one. “I’ve seen it. He puts them on top of the front tire. Passenger side.”
“Good. Now, I want to see you two run as fast as you can in that direction.” I point my gun out the open bay doors, past the parked semi-truck and toward a seemingly endless field of grass. “Now!” I say, jabbing the gun toward them.
They scramble, tearing out of the place as fast as they can.
“On top of the tire!” I shout to Benny. “Passenger side.”
He steps out from the shadows and then lifts his mask to give me a peculiar look. “You went shopping?”
I shrug. “I needed some shit. I’ve got big plans for tonight, and I figure if we’re going to rob a place, I might as well get everything I need.”
Thirty minutes later, I’m driving my ‘69 Camaro toward the place Callie’s staying. The car roars at the slightest touch like a wild fucking animal and I love every second of driving it. Smooth riding luxury cars never appealed to me. Give me a car that’s raw and powerful and I’ll call it a day.
Callie never told me where she lived, so I dug through her file and lifted her address from there, but I’m her fucking boss. I’m suppose to know where she lives. I was confused as hell when I saw the address though. Why is she staying at Vince’s place? What the fuck is my brother doing with her in his house? If I know him at all, he’s loyal and would never cheat, so something else has to be going on.
My groceries are piled on the seat beside me. By now, Benny should be at the warehouse unloading our lifted goods. I have another guy who will buy the stolen semi. He’ll tear it apart and give me a few grand for the parts too.
Little by little.
4
Callie
“This place is amazing,” says Julia.
I run my finger along a decorative strip of stone that’s embedded in the wall. “Yeah, it’s incredible.”
Julia has worked a few shifts with me at The Spot already and insisted on coming to help me settle in when she learned I was staying by myself. The truth is, I really just wanted to sleep, or at least lay in bed and stare at the ceiling, but Julia wouldn’t take no for an answer. I haven’t had enough time to process everything. In some ways it feels like it has only been a week and in others it feels like it has already been a week. One week since the life I knew was revealed for the farce it had been all along. I still feel the swirl of unresolved emotions and painful memories threatening to crack my thin facade of control.
“How did you say you know her? The woman who lives here, I mean,” asks Julia.
“From high school,” I say.
“And she just trusted you with her house out of the blue? That’s really...something.”
I smile thinly, wanting to change the subject. Julia seems like someone I would normally get along with. I’m just so on edge right now that every question feels like an accusation.
“Hey,” I say, sitting down on the couch and covering my legs with a soft blanket. “What do you know about Damian?”
Julia sits across from me on a modern looking chair shaped like a hollowed-out bean. There’s a knowing smile on her face. “Already?”
I blush. “Already what?”
“You know what I mean. You’re already wanting to fuck him?”
I give her a look. “I ask what you know about him and you assume I want to sleep with him?”
“You’re saying you don’t?”
I open my mouth to deny it and realize I would be lying. I swallow hard, looking down. “I just want to know what kind of guy he is. Like, who just walks around a restaurant they own shirtless and covered in blood like that? And I’ve never seen one, but that looked a lot like a stab wound.”
“I think every woman who has ever met Damian wants to know what kind of guy he is. All they ever find out is that he...how can I put this delicately? He has a huge cock.”
If I had been drinking something I would have spit it out. A laugh rips through me, and it feels good. Julia smiles back at me.
“So have you...you know?” I ask.
“Fucked him? No,” she says. The look on her face tells me not to push the subject any further so I don’t.
The moment that would have been awkward is avoided when my phone buzzes on the coffee table. I lean forward and see the name on display. Greg.
My hand hovers over the phone for a second. He has been calling all week, and I still haven’t answered. As much as I want to pick it up and scream my head off at him for being a worthless, cheating, fuck, I’m afraid to. Everything I saw still has a dreamlike quality to it, like if I fell asleep now I might wake up and realize it never happened. Somehow I know that confronting him will break the spell. The truth will come crashing down on me, and I don’t know if I’m strong enough not to be swept away by the force of it.
I pull my hand back into my lap and force myself to look away from the phone. Julia gives me a slightly concerned smile that is probably supposed to be reassuring. She probably just put the pieces together. New girl at work shows up out of nowhere. She’s staying with a friend. Avoiding calls from a guy. Yeah, it is probably painfully obvious.
The doorbell rings.
“I should get that,” I say, glad for an excuse to get away from the still-ringing phone.
I swing the door open, expecting a FedEx guy or something. Instead, I see Damian, looking suave and dangerous in a black dress shirt and black suit. His buttons are undone enough to give me a hint of the perfectly smooth, tattooed chest beneath. I can’t help myself from remembering how he looked without a shirt, and I can’t help but wanting to see it again. He’s holding a bag of groceries in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.
“What is this?” I ask.
“I saw that you were staying at my brother’s place, so I figured I’d come by.”
I give him a quizzical look. “You say that like it makes sense.”
He smirks. “What if I said I wanted to cook you the most delicious dinner you’ve ever had?”
I fold my arms. “I’d say that I already ate.” I hate that my heart beats out of my chest just from being near him. I don’t know if it’s from fear or attraction. Or both.
“Good thing I brought a pack of cards, then. We’ll play while you build up an appetite.”
I smile wryly. “You’re persistent. But I can’t, I have a friend over right now.”
“I was just leaving,” says Julia. She gives me a quick hug and then winks at me when Damian can’t see. She mouths the words fuck him.
Before I know it, Damian has stepped inside and Julia is gone. I don’t even remember inviting him in, but he’s walking toward the kitchen already. Shit.
I move after him, trying to think of a polite way to tell my boss that I want him to leave. Sir, could you please leave? I’m not sure I can be around you for an extended period of time without doing something stupid like jumping your bones.
“Where does he keep the wine glasses?” asks Damian.
I lean against the fridge and watch as he searches through the kitchen cabinets. “I really don’t think this is a good idea.”
“See, that’s exactly how I know it is a good idea. If it seemed like a good idea, it’d probably be boring as shit.”
I furrow my eyebrows. “Do you do this often?”
“What?” he asks.
“Invite yourself into people’s houses and forcefully cook them food?”
He finally finds the wine glasses and starts uncorking the bottle. “This isn’t your house.”
I sigh. “You know what I mean.”
He pours the wine and hand
s me a glass. “If I knew what you meant, that’d mean I understood you.” He sips his wine and raises his eyebrows, obviously pleasantly surprised by the taste. “And I don’t understand you. But I want to.”
“I thought you just wanted to sleep with anything that breathes and has a pair of tits.”
He walks toward the living room, forcing me to follow him or be left standing in the kitchen like an idiot. He sits on the couch and kicks his feet up on the coffee table. “You’ve been talking to Julia too much. You can’t believe everything you hear about me.”
“Can I believe it if it comes from you?”
He smirks. “Maybe.”
I sit in the bean chair Julia was in, sipping the wine for the first time. I see why Damian enjoyed it. It’s sweet and smooth, not dry and cloying like I normally find wine to be. “I’m not looking for a relationship,” I say when the silence stretches too long.
“So you’re single, then. I was wondering about the engagement ring. Bad breakup?”
I sigh, not sure why I haven’t taken it off yet. “It’s irrelevant. I’m just not…”
“Hey,” he says, leaning forward and locking me in place with his intense eyes. “All jokes aside, if you tell me to fuck off, I will. But if you don’t, I’m not going to stop until you’re mine.”
My heart hammers against my ribs and I feel breathless. Jesus. His words and the way he’s looking at me are almost too much. I’m ashamed to feel myself getting aroused. A few seconds pass and I can’t bring myself to speak. Two words and it’s all over. I can go back to feeling sorry for myself and moping around. I can update my resume and start looking for another marketing job around here.
Before I know it, a minute of silence has passed and he hasn’t looked away. A slow smile spreads across his lips as he sips from his wine. “Glad that’s settled.”
I sink into my chair, blushing. Why do I feel like I just promised to sleep with him?
“Bullshit!” I yell.
Mine (Citrione Crime Family #2) Page 3
