He carries my only bag of belongings up the few steps of the wide whitewashed porch framed by elegant columns. The interior is shockingly well-maintained. The floor is polished wood that gleams. The crown molding along the walls is perfectly white and free of dirt. It has a dated, but elegant and classic feeling. I’m immediately warmed and comforted by the atmosphere. It’s the kind of place you could curl up and read a good book with a warm blanket while a fire crackles somewhere in the distance. There’s a view of rolling green and well-manicured lawns through every window.
“How do you afford all of this?” I ask. “The restaurant can’t possibly…” I trail off at the look on his face.
I guess it wasn’t the most polite question I could have asked, but the look of darkness on his face went beyond impropriety. It’s clearly a topic I’m not supposed to talk about. He leads me to the bedroom with my suitcase, setting it inside the large closet.
“Who said I’m sleeping in your room?”
He looks genuinely confused for a second. “I want you and my baby as close as I can get you. I’ll know you're safe that way.”
I smile a little. Hearing him talk about the baby like it’s already here is oddly comforting. Still, it makes me feel strange. I never thought I’d be a parent. Not in a million years. All I ever knew was that I didn’t want kids. I didn’t think about why. Now I can see that I didn’t want kids because I thought I’d always be with Greg. How was I so blind? It wasn’t kids I didn’t want, it was Greg I didn’t want. I was terrified of giving him a permanent tether to me, and yet I said yes when he proposed because I couldn’t think of a good enough reason to say no.
Thinking about all of the wasted time makes me feel a little sick, or maybe it’s the beginnings of morning sickness. I haven’t even had time to look online and see what to expect. Greg always kept me from getting too close to many other women, or men for that matter. I’ve never even had a friend who has had a baby. The extent of my knowledge comes from movies and TV shows.
I quietly unpack my few belongings, finding empty space in the well-organized closet across from Damian’s things.
“Is that all you have?” he asks.
“I left in a little bit of a hurry.”
Damian kneels and works the lock on a small safe in the corner of the closet. He opens it and reaches inside, rooting around for a second then pulling out a roll of money held together by a rubber band. He tosses it to me and I catch it, surprised by how heavy it is. I nearly drop it in shock when I see that they are all one hundred dollar bills.
“I can’t take this,” I say.
He shrugs. “You’re going to have to, because I’m not taking it back.”
I shake my head, reaching to hand it to him. He takes my hand and pushes it to my chest, closing his strong hands around mine. “I want you to have it. Consider it an advance for the work you’re going to do for the restaurant.”
“I…” My eyes well with tears. Greg never just gave me anything. He bought me plenty of nice things, but he never just gave. There was always some catch, something he expected out of the exchange, whether it was going with him to an event, behaving in front of his parents, or forgiving him when he was an asshole. Damian must want something, too, and I just can’t see what it is...yet.
“I’ll make sure you have a car you can use. We can go out tomorrow.”
“What’s wrong with my car?” I ask.
“It’s marked. They probably have trackers on it by now. They’ll know exactly where you are. Besides, that asshole gave it to you. Fuck him.”
I feel my anxiety level rise a little. Is he just being paranoid, or is it really that dangerous to be connected to him?
“Come on,” he says. “I want to show you where the safe room is.”
“Safe room?”
He shows me a door that looks oddly out of place in a spare bedroom connected to his by a shared bathroom. The door is heavy metal and looks like something you would see in a bank vault. There’s a touchscreen outside the door. Damian taps through a few options on a touchscreen display, holds his finger to the pad, and then takes my hand. He presses my finger to the pad and waits until a green light scans it.
“You need in, just put your fingertip here. Okay?”
I grin a little. “You don’t think this is a little paranoid?”
“Maybe,” he says. “But I have a lot of enemies. In my line of work, if they can’t beat you at the game, they play dirty. I needed a place to slip to and escape if it came to that.”
I wonder for the hundredth time what I’m getting myself into.
13
Damian
Even though my house is about as safe as it gets, I feel uneasy leaving Callie at home. The plan is quickly turning into something unpredictable and new, though, and I can’t just disappear and hope it resolves on its own. I’m headed to a bar outside Boulder Hill to meet Benny when my phone rings.
“What is it?” I ask, not even looking at who called because Brooks said he’d call this morning.
“This is Agent Conway.”
My hand tightens on the steering wheel. “I hope you’re calling to tell me you gave up.”
“On the contrary, I just thought you should know about a folder that landed on my desk this morning.” I hear papers ruffling over the phone. “Jordan Ramirez? Waste management consultant, it seems. Just purchased an eighty thousand dollar car last week. I just can’t get my head around where the money came from. I mean, there was also a case on my desk about a string of semi-trucks carrying industrial materials that were robbed. So imagine my confusion when I saw that a certain Benny Frankato was apparently moving large quantities of goods through some known fencers.”
My heart pounds in my chest. I wish this cocksucker was in front of me so I could just reach out and snap his neck, but he’s not, and he’s got my fucking number. He found out about the scam because Benny was too lazy or too stupid to go out of town with the goods like I told him to and because Ramirez blew the cash like I told him not to.
“Interesting theory, Agent,” I say. “I still don’t see what any of this has to do with me.”
“Of course. You’ll have to pardon me. I’m just an old man thinking out loud here. We’ll find out who the mastermind is when he decides to spend the money. I don’t know why I’m even bothering hunting down all the details.”
I clench my teeth. I don’t know if he’s bluffing or if he really will spot the cash moving somehow. Bluff or not, if his goal was to piss me off and make me think twice about spending the money like I planned, he succeeded. It feels like everything’s falling apart around me, but if I think fast, I know I can still make this mess turn out in my favor. Even if Cristiano takes my bait and goes after the Anastasios, I’m still in a shittier position than when I started. I’ll have to take on the Sanatores at full strength, and they are an old familia with deep roots in Italy. No one ever knows exactly how much muscle a familia has, but I’m not going to be able to force them out of town if I try to match them blow for blow. I’ll have to come at them another way.
“I’m a busy man, Agent Conway. Next time you want to call to chat, why don’t you try your mother instead?”
Conway laughs in a dry, humorless way. “We’ll see who is calling their mother when this is all over. Oh, I almost forgot. Did you need any help getting Mrs. Beccaccio moved into your place?”
I grit my teeth together, really wishing this fucker was somewhere I could see. I’d empty an entire clip into his smug face if I could. “Have a good day, Agent,” I say, hanging up the phone.
I park outside the distribution center where Ramirez works and wait for him to come outside. It’s about thirty minutes before he shows up, tossing the keys to the fucking car he still hasn’t gotten rid of and catching them. He looks happy as a pig in shit, and it’s all I can do not to put a bullet in him right here and now.
I blink my lights when he passes in front of my car. A couple of the guys he’s with look toward my car, but o
nly Ramirez catches the significance. He looks both ways, almost as if he’s thinking about running, and then he mouths something, probably a curse, and gets in the car.
“Damian. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“And I didn’t expect you to be dumb enough to keep the car. Did I not make myself clear?”
He sniffs, scratching his nose and leaning back. “I’m looking for someone to pay me what it’s worth. I might as well use it until then.”
I grab his shirt, pushing him back until his head hits the passenger window. “You get rid of the car today or I’m going to fucking bury you in it. Do you understand?”
He swallows. “Come on, Damian. You’ve known my uncle since you were a little kid. You don’t have to say shit like that to me.”
“I’m already catching heat because you didn’t get rid of the car when I told you to because you wanted to save a few bucks. A few bucks, by the way, you wouldn’t have had to save if I didn’t set you up with the scam job.”
“So if they already know about it, what difference does it make if I keep it?”
My hands tighten around his shirt. I imagine smashing his head against something hard until it breaks. But I don’t. I have too much to lose now. It’s not just about revenge or making it big anymore, it’s about being there for Callie.
“The difference,” I say through gritted teeth, “is that I told you to get rid of the fucking car. So you’re going to get rid of it.”
He nods his head slowly. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll get rid of it. Today.”
I let him go. “Good. Now get out of my sight.”
Ramirez practically falls over himself in his hurry to get out of the car. I still don’t know how everything went to shit so fast. I had so long in prison to think this through. I thought I had gone over every possibility, but I never thought I’d let a woman come between me and revenge. Never. I can hardly blame myself, though. Before prison, the only thing women were to me was a warm place to put my cock for a few nights until I got bored. It’s almost funny. The first time a woman isn’t practically begging me to stick around, I can’t bring myself to walk away.
I know the smart thing to do. All I’d have to do is go back to my place, kick Callie out, and get this fucking rich ex-fiance of hers out of my hair. But I know I’m never going to do that. She means way too much to me. Oddly enough, so does the baby growing in her belly, even if it’s not mine. Just thinking about the baby makes protective feelings surge through me. I have a red hot desire to kill every cocksucker that is trying to put the squeeze on Callie and I. I’m surprised to realize how much I want the baby to be mine. It’s not just about hating Greg. In a way, I can see myself turning things around if I had a kid to take care of. I couldn’t keep living this lifestyle if I had a kid of my own looking up to me.
Hell, maybe I could even train up somebody I trust and pass things over to them. I’d make sure they kept me paid and happy, and then I’d keep my nose out of their business. Maybe Franco, or Benny, if he can prove he isn’t going behind my back to the Riccis, at least. Jesus. Listen to me. A few weeks with Callie and I’m already thinking about hanging up the only thing I’ve ever known? The frightening part is knowing how much I really would do for her. She already means so much to me. I can only imagine the things I would do for her if the baby is mine. God help the world, because anything that tries to come between us is going to burn.
Living with Callie has been incredible. I made sure she bought a lot of new cotton panties, because that shit has always been way sexier to me than all the lace. I love the way her ass feels beneath the thin fabric, and the way she soaks straight through it when I touch her in the right places. She suggested I buy extra if I was going to keep tearing them off her every time I wanted to fuck her, and I think we’re already going to have to go back out and buy more soon. For the first time in a long time, things almost feel good.
I can’t even tell that she’s pregnant yet, but I still have a compulsion to put my hands on her belly and feel for movement several times a day. It has the unintended side effect of leading to sex more often than not. It seems like every time we touch, an overwhelming compulsion to fuck comes over both of us. I’ve already had her in almost every room of the house and in almost every position. But we’ve been doing more than just sleeping together. She has been making me breakfast in the morning and waiting up for me when I come home late. I’ve had her working the advertising side from home while I try to make sure things are safe on the outside for her. We’ve watched every season of Breaking Bad together in what must have only been three or four days, and I find myself loving the way she asks me to clarify every little detail of the show, like I have all the answers.
It feels normal. And that’s something I never thought a guy like me could feel. Of course, as soon as I leave the house, I’m swimming in rumors, new info about where the feds are watching us, which Anastasios were killed by the Riccis, and the growing list of people who want me and Callie dead. It gets worse every day, and now I can’t help thinking more about how I’m going to keep her safe than I do about getting the power I need to bring the Sanatores to their knees for what they did. Frankly, I don’t want revenge anymore if it’s going to cost me Callie.
She walks out of the bedroom and stretches with her arms over her head. Her hard nipples press through the thin white t-shirt she’s wearing, and her shirt lifts so I can see a hint of her stomach and the mound of her sex beneath the cotton panties she wears. I set my coffee down and go to her, wrapping my arms around her waist and sliding my hands beneath the elastic waistband of her panties. I help myself to two generous fistfuls of her ass, groaning with satisfaction. She bites her lip.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I say, tucking a hair behind her ear and pressing myself against her.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” she laughs. Her hands slide beneath my shirt and roam my back.
I see a car pulling up the driveway through the window. “Shit,” I say.
“What?” she asks, turning to look.
“Go get dressed.”
She sees the car and hurries to the bedroom.
It’s Greg, and the only reason I can think he would bother to show up is to make another threat or gloat about some new evidence he has over me. I open the door, crossing the lawn toward his car in a few long strides. Greg and a man in a suit with a briefcase step out of the car. The look on Greg’s face says I’m not going to like what I hear next.
“Just the man I was hoping to see,” says Greg. He snaps his fingers and waves the man I assume to be a lawyer forward. “Show him.”
The lawyer reaches in his briefcase and pulls out a single piece of paper. He hands it to me and steps back like I might hit him. Maybe I will. I squint at the paper and see enough. It’s obviously some pencil pusher bullshit that he thinks is going to mean something to me. I press the paper into Greg’s chest so hard that he stumbles backwards, slamming against his car.
“Did you see that?” he asks the lawyer. “That was assault. He just assaulted me. Make sure you document that.” Greg straightens his clothes and pushes his hair out of his face.
“Yeah, make sure you get this too.” I slam my palm into the windshield of Greg’s car, sending a spiderweb of cracks through the safety glass. “That’s for wasting my time.”
I turn to walk away just as Callie rushes out of the front door. She threw on a blue dress, the same one I fucked her in last week. Maybe I should point that out to Greg.
“What’s going on?” she asks.
Greg calls over my shoulder. “This caveman broke my windshield. And he didn’t bother to read the court orders saying that baby is going to belong to me when it’s born.”
Her face turns so dark with rage that I almost take a step back. She looks ready to kill something. “Who the fuck said anything about a baby?” she asks.
“Come on. Did you really think I wouldn’t find out? My father has so many connections in the Northeast that I
could get away with murder if I wanted to.” He pauses to give me a look that I assume is supposed to be threatening.
Callie crosses her arms. “It’s not yours.”
“You should hope it is. My family will be sure that any child of mine is cared for. The child will never want for money or affection. It will be a life most couldn’t even dream of, and it will certainly be a safer life than if he is the father. He’s a killer, Callie. He has killed before and he’ll kill again. He uses people and throws them away when he’s done. Do you really want to trust him to raise a child?”
Something inside me twists. Greg would look better with a few bullet holes in his forehead, but he’s right about one thing. Callie and her baby would be better off without me in their lives. As long as they are connected to me, there is the chance that one of my enemies will target them to get to me. Can I really claim to care about them if I let that happen?
“Come on, Damian. Let’s just go back inside.”
I signal for her to wait. My insides are still churning. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but his words have seeped inside me and won’t let go. Do you really want to trust him to raise a child? Either way, I do know one thing, every second this fucker spends on my property is a second too long.
“You’re trespassing,” I say. “I’m going to walk to my house, pick up a gun, and walk back here. If I can still see either of you when I do, I’m going to shoot you. Do you understand?”
Greg gives his lawyer a nervous glance, but the lawyer is already hurrying to the passenger side of his car. I turn to walk toward the house so they won’t see me smirking. I wouldn’t have actually shot them because I know it would have scared Callie. It was still worth it to watch them scramble. The car engine starts and the engine roars as Greg backs out of the driveway before I reach the house.
Callie gives me a look when we’re inside.
“What? I wasn’t really going to shoot them.”
Mine (Citrione Crime Family #2) Page 9
