by Stone, Piper
“What are you thinking, my beautiful submissive?”
“I just... That I’d like to please you.”
“You already have, but I’ll admit, the thought of you wearing my brand is stimulating in every manner.” Jagger’s whisper was for my ears only, his hand brushing down my spine, patting my ass. “I’ll finalize my decision.”
His brand. I had difficulty swallowing, my actions stilted. He left me long enough to move toward the counter, speaking in fluent French as he discussed whatever determination he’d made. I couldn’t take my eyes off the several of the employees, one in particular as he finished a piercing, adding a golden hoop to the belly button of a young woman. She had no fear in her body language, no concern of any kind as she chatted with the employee, laughing when she was allowed to look at his finished product. Cathartic wasn’t the correct word to use, but Jagger had once said I was a flower, beginning to open, the scent more powerful than he’d experienced in his life. Maybe he was right.
Jagger returned only seconds later, taking my hand. “I have everything arranged, my sweet. Julez will take you back.”
“What did you decide? Nipples? Clit?”
He lifted a single eyebrow, issuing a throaty chuckle. “Not yet. That may come later. Simple ink but you’ll have to wait to see the finished product.”
I don’t know whether I was relieved or disappointed.
“I will return in about an hour.” His finger lingered on my cheek, swirling in small circles.
“What? You’re leaving?” There was no reason for my throat to close, my heart to race. I wasn’t worried that he’d leave me here. Or was I?
“I have a few additional phone calls to make, nothing drastic. Besides, Julez is very aware you’re special and if anything happens to you, there will be consequences.”
I certainly didn’t doubt that he’d given Julez pause, making certain the man realized I was to be handled with kid gloves.
“Be a good girl and I do mean this. You are not to leave this shop.”
There was that single slip, the slight change even in the color of his irises. Whatever had drawn him away was nearly crushing the life out of him. As he walked toward the door, turning for just a split second, I caught the look again. His entire world had changed with a single phone call.
And I had a terrible feeling that very soon he would be ripped from my life and that I’d never see him again.
Chapter Ten
Jagger
“Goddamn it,” I muttered as I crossed the street, feeling for my gun, my head shifting from right to left. The anger furrowing inside was blinding. The moment my fingers hit the cold steel, I wanted to snap, track down the bastards. And I would hunt the persons responsible.
The phone call had been damning, changing the course of my life forever. My father was dead, my brother in critical condition, both gunned down outside of a favored restaurant. What limited information I’d received had come from Antonio of all sources, his frantic phone call almost incoherent. The kid just wasn’t cut out to be a made man. I had to give him some credit. His quick actions had no doubt saved my brother’s life. When Antonio had finally made any sense, he was able to describe the assassins.
New York style.
I’d received several calls over the last few days, indications of a storm brewing and I’d been unwilling to do anything to stop it. Yeah, I should feel guilt, even remorse, but I was dead inside, more worried about my fate as well as Lola’s. Even my attorney had called twice, frantic in his tone, demanding I return from my unexpected trip. I had the distinct impression he was on someone else’s payroll. Then there was Santori, making demands on my company. At least I’d stopped his forward movement, threatening to shut down his inclusion in my firm. My firm. What used to be my father’s company was now placed squarely in my lap. My bet is the Feds would be all over it, picking at every contract. I’d made enough calls prior to finding out the news that everything should be secure, but I remained worried. With Giovanni incapacitated, the various businesses would be looking for firm direction.
Chicago had been compromised, just as had been anticipated, but certainly not with this level of bloodshed. With no leader in place, the don from the Big Apple would no doubt try to muscle in, poaching the best soldiers for his own. While I didn’t give a rat’s ass about the various illegal operations that could suffer from the takeover attempt, I did care about family. Blood was indeed thicker than water. There would be controlled retaliation. My decision. My revenge.
My organization.
Jesus fucking Christ. This was the last thing I needed. I moved across the street, finding a small coffee shop that allowed me full view of the tattoo joint. Staying out of the house until I found out more information was in both our best interests. What I wanted was a stiff drink, but at this point, I’d need to keep a clear head. There would be far too many not only counting on but planning that I would take the helm. I had hours in which to make a basic statement, some form of rebuttal, but in a manner the New Yorkers could understand. At this point, I had no other choice unless I wanted to become an accomplice to a turf war, the kind that could potentially leave portions of Chicago embroiled in scandal as well as rubble.
And there was something else.
My instinct that my whereabouts had been blasted all over hell and back were no doubt correct. Lola and I were no longer safe. If the New York scum had a plan in place, they’d have a price on my head as well. Take out the entire family, then pick up the pieces, dismantling the organization. Eliminating the soldiers certainly was a small part of the deal. If anyone discovered Lola’s identity or her relationship to the new don of the family, she’d be the first and easiest target.
After sitting down, I wiped sweat from my eyes and studied the window of the tat shop. Hell, I craved the beautiful, feisty woman already. Not being able to find her had nearly put me over the edge, exposing the monster inside. She’d become far too important to me and that wasn’t an option. I had to let her go. I had to get her to safety. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! Now, I had to think in order to put that plan together.
I sat alone gathering my thoughts for well over thirty minutes, one cup leading to two. This wasn’t the time to ‘chicken out’ as my father would say. I had to become the man, the leader of the family. Funny how this was exactly what my father had wanted me to do. You got your wish, Daddy dearest. I was a hardened man, incapable of the most basic emotion of grief. Everything had been turned upside down, but I was forced to face the fact, a good portion of the reason why had more to do with Lola. Yeah, I wanted to be a good man for her. No. The decision had been made. She could get back to her life and I’d give her the decent price for the company. Hell. There certainly wouldn’t be any arguments at my decision and if there were, I’d be swift in punishment.
I chuckled, the laugh as well as the understanding bittersweet.
There were very few people I could trust. One man had been close to my father for decades. While many considered him the consigliere, he’d never accepted the role officially. He was simply my father’s attorney, trustworthy in all aspects. The larger than life man was also mine and Gio’s godfather, a man of some virtue, even if he lived like a king based on his creative methods of keeping criminals out of prison. Michael Romano was formidable and respected, and I could expect to obtain reliable information. However, I was surprised that he hadn’t attempted to call, unless there’d been additional bloodshed. He was my obvious first choice to move my leadership forward. After that, I’d have to determine which underboss would carry out my decisions.
He picked up on the third ring, his breathing ragged; I was alarmed.
“Michael. What the fuck is going on?” There was significant noise in the background, including sirens. A quick glance at my watch made me pause. Antonio had called almost forty-five minutes earlier. There were still sirens? The red flags were flying.
“Shit, Jag. Fuckin’ mess is what’s going on. Thank fuckin’ God you’re alive. Heard rumor
s you were next. The fuckers just took out Franco, Tony, and Cane. This shit was planned well in advance.” Michael’s voice was clipped, and he was definitely out of breath. I detected more than a hint of fear.
“How did they get to my father?” Rumors. They would fly quickly. Better off if the majority thought I was dead. Might reveal the hand.
“Fuck if I know. Business meeting and you know what that means. No one but the players knew about the meeting or the location.”
“Which means someone talked.”
“You’re thinking traitor?” Michael asked.
I wasn’t certain what I was thinking, but at this point, nothing could be ruled out. “What time did this happen?”
“They’d just arrived, so eleven-thirty. Shit, how the fuck did they knew Montego was there? Goddamn the bastards!” Michael railed.
Yeah, how the hell did they know? “Anyone claim the kill yet?”
“Not a soul, which could mean more assassinations are planned, but you know who’s been sniffing around our shit.”
“Yeah, I know.” Whether they were responsible or not, the New Yorkers would have a target on their back.
“Where the hell are you? I tried calling earlier but shit just happened. You know?”
“Out of town. Don’t tell anyone we talked.” It was possible the reception had prevented a call, but I was leery of everything.
Michael snorted. “You’re already taking over like your father. You know what you have to do.”
“Yeah, I know.” With Franco gone, the only other underboss that I’d give any credence to was a real pig and he certainly wasn’t in my court. “How’s Gio?”
“I haven’t been told a damn thing. I’m not family. I’ll find out what I can. All I heard was that he’s lucky to be alive.”
“What hospital?”
“Chicago General. I heard the ambulance arrived quickly, no doubt helping in saving Gio’s life.”
The statement was interesting. Michael almost always attended the special luncheons. Montego needed his right-hand man to keep him on track, as well as to keep his blood pressure from skyrocketing. “You weren’t there.”
“Not this time. Montego had a closed meeting.”
“And who were the other participants?” Hearing Michael sigh almost pissed me off. I suspected the man was holding out on me.
“I wasn’t given an agenda, Jag. You know your father. I can tell you that he was agitated as hell, cursing up a blue streak when he called me this morning.”
“What was his particular issue this time?” I made mental note to find out exactly who’d been called. Antonio would certainly know.
Michael hesitated again. “Betrayal.”
Interesting. The very word I was thinking.
“I gotta tell you. We’re going to need you here, boy. The crap that I’ve heard already, the phone calls and the police. They’re swarming. I’ll do what I can to fend them off, but they’re going to want to talk to you.”
I knew the rules. I also had an idea of how many of Chicago’s finest really were in my father’s back pocket. Michael would be able to corral them with his usual finesse. Hell, I’d been trained by the best and even if I’d pushed aside all the conversations, the protocol was ingrained in every cell and muscle in my body. I was fully capable of taking over, especially during a crisis. “I appreciate that. I’ll call you later.” First, I needed to make certain I had a secure way out of the country and back in without anyone the wiser, including Michael. My trust factor was slipping off the radar.
“Keep yourself alive. The family needs you.”
Family. What family did I actually have left? “Yeah, I will. Thanks, Michael.” I ended the call, holding the phone to my head. Something didn’t smell right. At some point, during one of the dozens of arguments I’d had with my father over the years, Montego had told me that the majority of deaths in an organization like the Calduchi family were from those born of the heart. I didn’t even care about the meaning at the time. Now, it hit home. This particular puzzle would get messy. If this was a normal hit, a planned takeover, the New York don would extend some form of olive branch, even if for only show. If not, the bloodshed would continue. Twenty-four hours would tell the tale. By then, I’d be back in the States.
The realization of the magnitude of changes that would need to be made created an extreme sadness. For a few beautiful moments in time, I’d been allowed to live an almost normal life and with the woman I’d fallen madly in love with. My God. I’d actually admitted it to myself. Lola was everything I’d ever wanted. She’d fallen hard for me as well and I knew in my heart, there was only one way to get her out of my world in order to save hers.
I had to make her hate me.
A single tear slipped from my eye. I wish I could say that I was saddened from the loss of my father, but I’d been hardened by his lack of caring, his abusive ways. My heart was breaking for one reason only. The decision to let her go. Clenching my fists, rage vanquished the humanity she’d uncovered, the man who could find happiness in simplistic aspects of love and family. No, I wasn’t allowed happiness. I’d given my soul to the devil soon after my birth. And nothing would change that ugly fact.
I settled in with the last dregs of coffee, brushing aside my emotions, determined to finalize a course of action. I hesitated before contacting the pilot; however, flight arrangements would need to be made. Forced to leave a message put a bad taste in my mouth. Nevertheless, I asked him to contact me as soon as possible.
After navigating to the Chicago news, I wasn’t forced to search for long. What the media was calling a slaughter was already plastered across every news source, some photos in vivid color, depicting the murder. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say at least one Chicago reporter had been called ahead of the assassin, hiding in the shadows until the machine guns had gone off.
Notorious Mafia Leader Shot Dead
Crime Boss, Montego Calduchi Killed in an Apparent Assassination
The headlines would forever remain in the back of my mind. I let out a ragged breath, long and tedious, exhaustion already settling in. I had one last phone call to make before returning to the shop and one I was hesitant in making. I found the main phone number easily enough and when I called, I wasn’t certain I wanted to hear the answers.
“I’m calling about Giovanni Calduchi. I understand he was brought into your hospital.”
“Calduchi?” The young girl’s voice almost broke up when she repeated the name.
“Gunshot victim.”
“Yes, I know, sir. I can only give out information to the next of kin.”
“I’m his brother.” The hesitation after my statement was almost too significant.
“Let me transfer you to the ICU.”
She clicked off before I had an opportunity to say anything else. As I waited, I studied the various people passing by the shop. One man in particular caught my attention. The way he was lingering near the storefront, smoking a cigarette raised my hackles. Snarling, I was ready to bolt across the street when I heard a clicking on the phone. Interesting. The call was being recorded.
“Mr. Calduchi?” This time, the female’s voice was strong.
“Bishop.”
“I’m sorry?”
“My name is Jagger Bishop. I was calling about my brother’s condition.”
“Let me check for you.”
I tossed the coffee cup and moved to the doorway, remaining in the shadows. The dude across the street was definitely waiting or looking for someone. There were no coincidences in the world of crime.
“Mr. Calduchi? I mean, Mr. Bishop?”
Even the nurse’s voice seemed strained, or perhaps I was determined that the murder and attempted assassination were part of a larger and more sinister plan.
“Yes?”
“Your brother has been taken into surgery. I’m afraid I can’t tell you any more at this point.”
“Thank you.” I wasn’t going to hang on the line, just in c
ase some Fed was already on the case. At least I knew he was still alive. Shoving the phone in my pocket, I headed across the street. The man was nowhere to be seen. I’d looked away for ten damn seconds and the asshole had disappeared. Christ. With ridiculous behavior like this, we’d be sitting ducks.
The doorframe shook, given the vehemence I used bolting into the store. “Where is Lola Markum?”
The man behind the desk gave me a nasty look before pointing to the small hallway. “She’s just about finished, if you want to wait.”
“I don’t want to wait.” I had to make certain she was still alive. No one else was going to die on my watch. I walked into two other rooms before finding her and when I did, I could almost taste blood. “We need to go.” I gazed down at the ink I’d selected and halfway designed to demonstrate my desire to own this woman. Now, she was marked. My mark. I was shocked how much the small tattoo affected me, the beautiful white rose a reminder of all things pure and decent contrasted by the red banner crossing the stem bearing the words ‘bad girl.’
“Jagger. What’s wrong?” Lola moved into a sitting position. She smiled at the technician as she glanced over her shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse. “Thank you.”
“The redness will go away in a day or two,” the technician said as he pointed toward a mirror in the corner. “Hand mirror over there if you’d like to see. Looks nice on you.”
I couldn’t take my eyes off the fresh ink, the mark located just below her hip. “We need to get back. Nothing’s wrong.”
She glanced all the way down to my feet before easing off the table, keeping the towel provided around her until he left the room. “I don’t buy it. Who called you?”
