Cease (Bayonet Scars Book 7)

by Jc Emery

  "No, baby, no," she says.

  "I'm here, buddy. Let me in."

  "We're safe. Uncle Mike will make it better," Ian says. His little feet thump against the wall while he goes about talking to his mom. Soft baby whimpers quickly turn to loud screams. One baby at first and then two. They're in there. Right on the other side of the closed door. I just need Ian to open it for me. Even if Ruby does have a weapon, she won't use it with Ian in the way.

  The knob turns, and then the door opens slowly. Ian's small, pale face peeks out from the crack. There's a hopeful smile at play. When I smile back, he throws the door open and rushes toward me. I welcome him into a hug, lifting him up and holding his small body against me.

  The door creeps open. And there they are. My family. Ruby's wide brown eyes stare up at me from beneath a thick head of reddish-brown hair. Her cheeks are red and splotchy with fallen tears. She visibly swallows and clenches her jaw. Her body tenses as the cries from our children deepen and grow more concerning. Esmeralda's read up on babies in preparation for this day. She says a mother knows her baby's cries. Does Ruby know why they're crying?

  "Please." Ruby's voice is shaky, breaking at the end. "Don't do this."

  "I have to," I say. My voice is quiet, weak even. It's the one thing I can't afford--weakness. "Just put them down, okay? Get out of the tub and put them down."

  "I can't," she says. The babies scream in her arms as she bounces them to try to calm them down. It doesn't work. I can't see their faces or who's who. Each of the twins are bundled in bright yellow blankets. But there they are. My children. My legacy. Father will be proud.

  "You have to."

  "No," she cries. Her eyes bounce between me and Ian, whose body tenses as he picks up on the fact that this isn't a friendly visit.

  "These are my babies. You can't just take them from me."

  "I don't have a choice." My body tenses as the sounds of Esmeralda's heels click on the floor behind me. The sound grows louder until she's directly behind me. Ruby's eyes widen, her jaw is slack, and her already wan complexion pales even further. She never has seen Esmeralda the way I see her. Cold, ruthless, unforgiving. After this, I can't imagine Ruby won't be able to see Esmeralda for who she really is. But it wouldn't be the first time she surprised me.

  "Do it," my wife hisses in my ear. It's so quiet that I almost miss it.

  Taking a deep breath, I pull out the knife--a classic bayonet style from World War II--that once belonged to Ruby and Esmeralda's grandfather, and I place it against Ian's throat. He thrashes and pulls against me even as I tell him that he's going to hurt himself. The knife grazes his neck just enough to make him shout out in pain. I don't want to kill him. I can't kill him.

  "Don't hurt my boy," Ruby warns. "You hurt my boy and you'll live to regret it."

  "Get out of the tub and leave the children there." Jesus fucking Christ, if she would just get out of the fucking tub we could be done with this already.

  "I'll have to hurt him if you don't get out of the tub."

  Neither of us move or speak for a long time. Not even Esmeralda pipes up. Thank fuck. I can't stand here and beg the woman I . . . Ruby while my wife complains behind me. This is hard enough. My stomach tenses, my throat tightens, and if I'd been able to keep anything down this morning, I'd be convinced that I was about to throw it up right now.

  "Essie, please," Ruby whispers, finally breaking the silence among the adults. Her eyes are fixed on her twin. Ian is still whimpering, but he's stopped moving. The babies cry and cry, waiting for their mother to attend to them.

  "I can't. I'm sorry." Esmeralda's face is fucking priceless. Wide, tear-filled eyes, a trembling lower lip, and a scrunched brow. Everything about this woman makes me feel sick. I'm a monster, but at least I don't paint myself the victim. I am the vile things that are said about me. I am the son of Carlo Mancuso, Sr. I am the piece of shit that feels nothing for his wife but everything for her sister. I am all of that, and I fucking own it.

  The severity of the moment gets to me. It's too much. Everybody wants something, and nobody here gives a fuck about what I want. My father didn't care what I wanted, so he tried to make me into the perfect principe. My wife didn't ask what I wanted, so she demanded a family. My mother didn't ask what I wanted, so she's getting Ruby out of the picture. One day, a long time ago, just before I lost my soul to the gold band on the fourth finger of my left hand, Ruby asked me what I wanted. Her. I wanted her. And I had her, but only briefly, and that's how we ended up here. It's all bullshit. The Omerta, the family, the code. This thing of ours. What a fucking joke.

  Enough.

  This has to end.

  I'm not even thinking anymore. I'm just bringing the knife to the corner of Ian's eye, and I'm digging into his skin. He's crying, Ruby's crying, the babies are still crying. Esmeralda is silent. Her nephew is being sliced fucking open, and she's silent. I dig in deeper, my rage boiling over, enjoying the way the blood drips from his small, innocent face. If I don't stop, I'll slice into his eye and he'll go blind.

  "Out of the tub," I demand. Ruby's moving now, quicker than I expect. She's trying to set them down, but she can't. I'm not sure how she managed it before--with Ian's help maybe. "Faster," I bark at her. I can't hold on to this for much longer. I can't continue to cut him open like he's a fucking fish. He's a child. Her child. And he's crying and thrashing about. He's got to be in some serious pain. There's more blood now, and it's coating the handle of the knife, making it slick.

  Carefully, Esmeralda slips past me and Ian. She walks slowly, as if she's tiptoeing, toward the tub. I can't even hear the fake-ass bullshit she's saying to her sister on her approach. I catch a few words here and there. It's my fault. This is my idea. She's being forced into it. I could argue, but why should I? So Ruby can know the truth? I can't take that from her. Right now, I'm taking everything else. I won't take the love she has for her bitch sister, too.

  As Esmeralda convinces Ruby to put the babies down, I pull the knife back from Ian's eye. My hand shakes, my fingers slip on the handle, and I suck in a shaky breath. I'm not paying attention. The blade is still dug into his flesh, and I've created a scar halfway to his ear now. Esmeralda gets Ruby out of the tub, and she stands in front of her.

  The moment my wife gives Ruby her back, Ruby's expression changes. She's less pained now, less fearful, but still angry and afraid, though. Not a foot in front of the tub, in the small bathroom, in the dingy motel, Ruby focuses her fierce brown eyes on mine. Reaching up, she grabs Esmeralda by the neck, produces a .22 from the back of her jeans, and pushes the barrel into the side of my wife's head.

  "Put my son down or she's dead."

  "You won't kill her," I say. My blades dances along Ian's skin from his ear to his mouth. The cut isn't nearly as deep as the first one, but it, too, will scar.

  "Put him down!" Ruby's scream is that of a murderous lioness whose found her next meal. If I actually cared about my wife, I would be afraid. Ruby may not be the same kind of monster I am, but she's wild and unbroken. Until now. This is breaking her. Ruby could take a life--I just don't think she can take her sister's. Not even if she knew the real reason we're here.

  "Kill her." A slow, callous smile creeps to my lips. The slack-jawed horror that finds its way to Ruby's face is priceless. She can't believe what I'm saying, but that's because she doesn't know her twin the way I do. She has no clue what lurks beneath the surface. I'm a monster, but her sister is a fucking beast.

  "I'll keep them safe," Esmeralda says in that soft voice of hers. That soft, manipulative voice that makes you believe she is only ever gentle and passive. "I'll keep their names--Michael and Alexandra--I'll make sure they have the best life possible. Please. If you kill me, Carlo will kill you, and your babies won't have even a piece of either of us."

  Ruby flinches. Her grip on the gun wavers, and even though I could live in utter fucking peace as a widower, I would have to kill Ruby, and I really don't want to have to do that. My father would d
emand to see the body. So, in an effort to speed things up, I wrap my hand around Ian's neck and start to squeeze. His cries are intense, and so is the jerking of his body.

  "You can't have both, tesoro. It's Ian or the twins."

  Ruby looks back at the babies in the tub, still wailing, and sobs a goodbye. She unloads the ammo from her .22 and drops it on the floor. Everything is so anticlimactic. Her movements are robotic, her expression dead. I want to say I almost feel bad for her, but I don't. I feel fucking awful, like a damn truck has run me over and then backed up just got good measure. She's no longer wild, no longer broken. This is devastation in a way I've never seen it before. When she's unarmed, she raises her hands in the air and focuses on Ian, telling him it's going to be okay. I back out of the room first and then direct her out of the bathroom and onto the bed. I'm still clutching the small, bloody boy. His cries are weakening, and the tension in his body is going slack. I've never hurt a kid before. We're not supposed to. I think he might be in shock, but what the fuck do I know?

  After a minute, Esmeralda comes out of the bathroom, holding both babies in her arms. The smile on her face is undeniable even though she's trying to hide it. She has what she wants now, so maybe she'll be more tolerable. Probably not, but even condemned men can have some hope. My bitch wife takes the children to where Benny stands at the open door and whispers something in his ear before stepping around him and exiting the room completely. She disappears with a few clicks of her heels on the concrete.

  I don't wait even a moment to let Ian go. He stumbles forward but loses his balance. With my open palm to the top of his back, I help him in his mother's direction with a slight shove. Ruby leaps forward and catches her boy. She grips his loose body with a ferocity I don't understand. She's a mother in a way I'm not a father. She's got years under her belt. I've barely gotten a good look at the twins in weeks. They probably look different than they did at the hospital. I don't fucking know. Not that looking at their faces would trigger some kind of parental instinct in me or something. Maybe they'll grow on me. If I'm lucky, our daughter will grow up to look nothing like her mother. Then, maybe, I'll be able to forget her fucking face.

  "Hey, Benny," I call out, not moving from my spot.

  He turns around. His eyebrows are raised, and he stares at me casually, like there's not a small child bleeding all over the place and a woman in hysterics. That's Benny for you. He's a good guy. He's the best of this thing we got. Never lets me down.

  "Yeah, Boss," he says with a head nod in my direction.

  "What'd my wife tell you on her way out?"

  He shrugs his shoulders--his tell--and shakes his head. "Nothing," he says. "She let me know she was heading to the car."

  Benny's the best of us. His only flaw is the weak spot he has for my wife. Lord only knows the lengths he'll go for her. And I can't have somebody more loyal to her than to me.

  "Cover his ears." My eyes are fixed on Ruby as she follows my instructions and cradles her boy in her lap, covering his ears and face as best she can.

  Benny blinks, and it's only half a second later that his face shows the alarm I've been waiting for.

  But it's too late.

  I have my Desert Eagle raised and pointing at his face before he fully realizes what's happening. The bullet tears through the left side of his chest. He's on his back now, bleeding out all over the cheap motel carpet. Maybe now they'll replace the filthy shit. I step over what used to be Benny and avoid stepping in the blood as best I can. Esmeralda will fucking kill me if I track blood into the car. When I get to Ruby, she's got her chin raised and her eyes narrowed. Cold, angry, mean, she stares up at me. I tuck my gun away and fish a thick white envelope out of my suit jacket and throw it down next to her. She doesn't even follow the envelope. Her anger is palpable. If looks could kill . . .

  "A paramedic's going to be by in a few minutes. He'll patch up the kid. You got enough money there to start over elsewhere." I suck in a deep breath and bend, bringing my face to her level before grabbing the back of her neck. "Now, do what you were fucking told and disappear."

  I take in her scent one last time and place my lips to her forehead. It's fucked, I know, but I can't help myself. She's stock still. Even when I release her and walk away, she doesn't move. And I don't look back, because I can't bear to see the hatred in her eyes one more time.

  CHAPTER 12

  Jim

  Fort Bragg, California

  July 23, 1997

  The school secretary hands over the visitor pass with a warm smile on her face. She makes it a point to say that the school doesn't normally do this, that she's giving me something because--in her words--Ian's such a great kid. Damn straight, lady. My woman's raised a fucking awesome kid, and she's doing a damn good job of giving Ryan the mom he never had.

  "You have fun today, Mr. Stone."

  "Thanks." I step back and then pause. I've always been a shit parent. I don't even lie to myself about it. My boy would rather stay with a woman he only met a few months ago, and I let him because he deserves her. She's better than me, so much fucking better, and this proves it. Ruby knows their teacher's name. She knows which classroom they're in. She knows everything about those two kids. I'm an idiot.

  "Is there something wrong, Mr. Stone?"

  "I don't know where I'm going."

  "That's okay," she says in a really encouraging voice. I hate that voice. It's the sound of judgment. Like she wants me to feel better about being a fuckup.

  "The boys are in Mrs. Rhodes's class." She smiles. I stare at her blankly. She looks around awkwardly before she realizes that means nothing to me and directs me toward their classroom. I've only been to this school a handful of times and, even then, only ever to the office. My boy gets in trouble a lot--or he did. I don't know. I'd have to ask Ruby if he's still getting in trouble. Not that I'm going to ask her that after the shit she laid on me.

  It's been a couple weeks since we talked about it. I knew my woman had damage, but the Italian fucking mafia. Jesus Christ. I let that sink in one more time as I walk down the covered hallways of the elementary school, careful to remember the secretary's directions. Down the main corridor, to the second building on the left, third classroom. Clouds move overhead, casting a shadow across the sun's rays. Fuck. Not today. I can't have this shit today. First it'll be overcast, then the sky will break, and finally it'll be pouring goddamn rain and everything I've done will be for nothing.

  Standing in front of the classroom door with the stupid permission slip in my hand, I suck in a deep breath. All the windows on this side of the building are high up, near the ceiling, save for a small square window at eye level, in the center of the bright blue door. I peer in and freeze.

  There must be about ten students in the room, a much smaller number than during the school year. There are two little girls huddled together at one long table, their refuge among the sea of boys surrounding them. But that's not what has my blood running cold--it's the sight of the skinny, pale-faced boy with wavy light brown hair and large, sad brown eyes. He sits hunched over in his chair, his hands in his lap, and his bottom lip pulled between his teeth. Ryan sits beside him, a scowl on his face, his eyes focused up on the ceiling. A woman in her thirties, who I assume is their teacher, stands in front of Ryan with her hands on her hips. She's pissed about something, and knowing my boy, there's no telling=. That doesn't bug me. The kid isn't bothered by her, so neither am I. It's Ian that makes me take pause. I squint my eyes and stare at the red, angry scar that mars his face. He's been scratching at it, I can tell. It's not normally this red or obvious. Their teacher keeps going. Ryan rolls his eyes. And while the two of them are in some kind of battle of wills, Ian continues to sink further and further into himself. His hand comes up to his face and scratches at his scar. He flinches on contact and rocks himself back and forth. His movements are small, inconspicuous. Nobody seems to notice. Except I do. I see this boy with all his pain and damage. I see his heart and his mother's spirit th
at lives in him so brightly. I see this kid who's been through some serious shit and the way he just caves in on himself. It's not fucking right, and I'm going to make this better for him. I have to.

  Turning the knob and pushing the door open, I try to avoid the curious looks from all the kids but mine.

  The lady, Mrs. Rhodes, turns my way and blanches. She forces a smile to her face and, with tight lips, says, "Can I help you?"

  "Yeah, I'm here for my boys," I say and bridge the gap between us. Reluctantly, I hand over the fucking permission slip. It's ridiculous that I have to explain myself. These are my kids. Well, the smug-looking one making rude faces at his teacher's back is definitely mine. The other one is mine, too. His momma just doesn't know it yet.

  "Okay, well, we're in the middle of an assignment right now." She turns her head toward the boys, catching Ryan's expression. She clenches her jaw and tries to calm herself down. My mouth twitches as I fight to keep the smile off my face. He's such a little asshole, and I'm a shit parent for enjoying this. If Ruby were here, she'd shut him down real quick, but that's what mothers are for.

  From beside Ryan, Ian sits up a little straighter now. His face is a mix of worry and fear--and more of the latter than the former. His eyes volley between his teacher and Ryan with an alarm that worries me. I could tell this Rhodes lady that he's freaking out and I need to get him home, but I'm not going to do him like that. He's nine today--fucking nine--and it's time he and Ryan start learning how to be a men. I can't teach them how to handle their own shit if I run to his rescue.

  "How about you just send it home with them. We got shit to do, and their mom's waiting on us."

  "Language, Mr. Stone." Mrs. Rhodes's jaw ticks in irritation. "Their mom? I thought . . ." she trails off.

  "Boys, pack up. We're going," I say without taking my eyes off of the woman in front of me. I don't bother explaining the situation to her. She wouldn't get it anyway.