If things were different, I might’ve laughed. Insulting Roman was never a smart thing to do, especially when the man was as riled up as he currently was. Having the Dollhouse shot up—his favorite place, the place where his girl worked—had permanently set him on edge.
When Roman said nothing, Doc spoke to Zoey, “Do you want an ugly scar, or do you want it to be as small and clean as possible?”
Zoey was well aware of how irate Roman was, her gaze shifting between them. All she let out was an “Uh,” as if she didn’t know how to answer him. And then she straightened her back, as much as she could with her arm currently being held by the doctor, and said, “Little scar, please.”
Roman glared at her.
“What?” She tried to shrug, but the motion only made her wince. “I don’t want to look like you and Carter. One of us has to be pretty, otherwise this’ll never work.” Her voice dripped sarcasm, but neither Carter nor Roman cracked a smirk.
Their other member, the civilian who Zoey bullied Roman into bringing here—still couldn’t believe something like that was even possible—must still be in the other cabin.
I said nothing, pushing past them all as I headed for the door. I pushed outside, breathing in the cool night air. There was something different about it. It was cleaner, felt better in your lungs. Nature had its way… unless us humans came along and trampled it all down and built a city in its place. Then there was smog and dirty air and taint everywhere.
Richie stood on the edge of the porch, away from the door. His shoulders were hunched. Even though he wore a suit, he hardly looked like the boss I knew. In fact, ever since coming here, something’s been off about him. He’d sent Fang to fetch a picture from his office, which could’ve ended badly for Fang. I mean, what the hell was up with that?
Plus he let Maddox and Sylvester go with Lola without much of a fight at all… so unlike him.
Shoving my hands into my pockets, I inched closer to him, and as I did so, he not once turned to look at me. I couldn’t tell if he was purposefully ignoring me or he was just spacing out that bad. What the hell was happening to the man?
“You doing okay, boss?” I asked, feeling a bit awkward. A part of me wanted to run back inside and be with my brother, but something was telling me we had to get to the bottom of whatever was bothering Richie.
It took him a long while to turn his gaze away from the stars above and look at me. In the darkness, with nothing but the moon and the light inside creating shadows on his face, he looked—just for a split second—older than he was. Older and so very tired.
When he finally chose to answer me, he didn’t even do that; instead, he asked about my brother, “How’s he doing?” His voice, which was normally rough and hard and stern, was anything but. Richie felt and acted like a shell of a man, and I wondered if this had been building for a while and what happened had been the tipping point for him.
“He’s okay. He woke up a bit after Doc was done, but he didn’t seem to know where he was or anything like that,” I told him. “He’s out again. Doc said it was normal.”
Richie nodded once. “Good, good.”
“No disrespect, sir, but—” I took a step closer to him, and his back straightened, but it was like he had to work to stand straight and not slump his shoulders. His demeanor had always come off as effortless. “—you don’t seem okay.”
“Don’t I?”
“No. You seem off, like something’s bothering you. Is it the DeLucas?” I wanted to smack myself after asking that. Of course it was the DeLucas. Look at where we were, chased from our homes, shot at and attacked in the middle of the night. We’d run away with our tails between our legs. Something like that was bound to affect a man of honor like Richie.
And then Richie said something that caught me completely off-guard, which was: “It’s not the DeLucas.”
I had an apology ready, sorry for bringing up the obvious, but when he said that, the breath was knocked out of me, and I turned to face him. We stood less than two feet apart, and I couldn’t remember ever standing so close to him. Not like this. Not like he was my equal or something. He was Richard Luciano, head of the family, respected among many and wanted dead by just as many. This wasn’t him.
This was a stranger wearing his face.
“It’s… not?” I sounded confused, and that’s because I was. This whole situation was unlike anything we’d ever prepared for, and I honestly thought everything would always continue as they were.
But that was life, I guess. It threw you curveballs when you weren’t ready for them. Case in point was Lola Harding, the Night Slayer, the girl who had captured my heart and my affection even though I’d tried to hold myself back. The girl who also held Sylvester and Maddox’s hearts as well as mine.
“Not entirely, I should say,” Richie amended himself. His hands squeezed the wooden railing of the porch, and for a moment, he said nothing else. His jaw tensed, a vein in his forehead bulging out. “All my life, I thought I knew what I wanted. I thought I wanted what was mine by birth. The Luciano kingdom, the money, the connections, the power.”
I stayed quiet, not knowing if I could speak or not. When in doubt, shut the fuck up when the boss was talking.
“And then I fell in love with Angelina, and we had two sons together,” Richie went on. “Then I thought, this is it. This is what I want. Family above all else.” He paused, and if I had to guess, I’d say his mind was plagued with memories of his late wife, his lady love. I’d never seen him with another woman, not in my whole life. Not since Angelina died.
Or, I guess, technically, was murdered by her own power-hungry sister.
“But I lost her. Even with the money and power that came with being a Luciano, there were still those who would see us fall, those who would do anything to see it. I swore to myself I’d never let someone else in. Love blinded me. I should’ve known it would end terribly, with her being a DeLuca. The idealist in me had thought the animosity between our families would end when we wed, but it didn’t. It only got worse.”
I looked down, off the porch, at the dirt below. I imagined that was why he had this land purchased, why no one knew about it. Why even his sons had no idea this place, these cabins, existed. It was a failsafe, somewhere we could all run to should the need arise. And it had.
Richie said, “All I wanted after that was to keep the peace. I sent Roman and Carter out when necessary, but I spilled no more blood than I had to. I wanted my sons to grow up, to have families of their own, for this stupid war to disappear. And then that girl showed up after killing Mario.”
Lola. I had to be very careful not to defend Lola to him, to just let him say what he wanted and be done with it. It was not a good time to get into a fight with the boss over a girl who had killed his youngest son. Hell, it was never the time for that, but I would not stand by anymore, not if he told me to kill her. Not if he tried to kill her himself.
I loved her, and even though it would betray everything I’d ever known, I would go against Richie for her.
“Now my sons are infatuated with her, as are you,” he muttered, frowning as he shot a glare in my direction. The anger in his gaze was palpable, but he did not raise his voice, did not shout or yell or swear. Richie held himself back, just as he usually did. “The Night Slayer proved to be nothing but a catalyst, and now we’re past the point of no return.”
Lola had poisoned Carl DeLuca. Lola had been ordered by Bianca to kill the last two Luciano sons. Without Lola killing Mario and revealing just how weak the Lucianos were, would any of this be happening?
I didn’t want to think about it, because I was worried it was true, that Richie was right and everything was all because of her.
“I’m not okay, Viper” Richie whispered, shaking his head softly, turning his head upward to gaze at the sky. It was a clear night, no clouds or fog or city streetlights to dull the sky’s natural splendor. The sky didn’t look like this over there, not even close. “I’m not okay, because I am tir
ed of it all. Tired, worn out, done. I’m done, Viper.”
He’d said my name twice there, and it put a really bad feeling into my stomach. A sinking, twisting, knotting feeling, a suspicion that I wasn’t going to like what he was about to say next—for surely there would be more. There had to be.
“Done?” I repeated. “What do you mean you’re done?” Richie couldn’t be done. He was the boss. He was the head of the Lucianos. He was… he was the big man, the one we all listened to. Without him, what did we have?
“I mean…” Richie heaved a sigh, his dark eyes closing as his head turned away from the stars above. Those black eyes, so much like Maddox’s only less crazy, opened and looked at me. “I’m done. I’ll do what I can to take the city back, to make those who hurt your brother and Zoey pay, but after that—assuming we’re all still alive—I’m not staying.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Where will you go?” It was as I stared at him that I realized it: here. Richie wanted to come here, to live here, to get away from it all. Like an early retirement or something.
But he was only forty-six years old. He looked younger than that. He had quite a few strong years left in him. He couldn’t just leave it all behind because he was tired, could he?
“What about Maddox and Sylvester?”
He spoke, “They’re old enough to take care of themselves. They’ve been old enough for a while. Where Maddox lacks logic, Sylvester makes up for it, and where Sylvester lacks the willingness to do whatever’s necessary, Maddox doesn’t. Together, they’ll be fine. They’ll still have you, and your brother. Carter and Roman and anyone else that is still loyal to us.”
It was like trying to accept something that wasn’t right, information that was wrong, trying to swallow a piece of food that really tasted like shit. “You can’t be serious. You have to—”
He interrupted me with a scowl, “I have done everything I can, but lately… losing Mario brought everything to the surface. It was like losing Angelina all over again. I would never expect you to understand, Viper. I have lived fifteen more years than you, have seen things you would never dream of. I’ve earned every right to be done with it all.”
Shit. This was really happening, huh?
“That’s not—that’s not what I meant, Richie,” I said, trying to find the words to say, whatever I could to convince him that he was making the wrong choice here. But, I was slow to realize, he was right. I wasn’t him. I didn’t live his life. I had no clue what he’d gone through or how weary and exhausted with everything he was.
Who was I to judge this man, who’d treated my brother and me like sons? Who was I to say what he could and couldn’t do after so many years of calm and collected leadership? If he wanted to stay here… well, I guess he would. He’d have a new, boring life in the middle of nowhere.
Because there was nothing else I could say, I settled with, “It won’t be the same without you.”
“No,” Richie agreed. “It’ll be better.” And then he said nothing else, giving me a tight-lipped smile as he walked around me and disappeared inside the cabin.
I watched him go, standing outside for a while. The cool air blew in a gentle breeze, and I couldn’t help but sigh. That… that hadn’t gone at all how I’d thought it would. Just when I thought I was getting used to how things turned out, the rug was pulled out from under me.
Richie wasn’t going to stay. He was going to leave, and Sylvester and Maddox would be in control of everything. Richie was under the impression things would be better, but I wasn’t so sure. Not that I was doubting the two brothers, but… but Richie was Richie. He was the boss. He was… he was not the same man he was twenty years ago, I realized. Life had beaten him down time and time again. That was bound to make you want to give it all up and live like a recluse in the mountains.
You couldn’t pay me enough to live here permanently, but if that’s what Richie wanted, well, I couldn’t stop him.
None of us could.
It was hours before they came back. Roman, Carter and Zoey had left to return to their own cabin, which left Richie and I alone with Doc and Lincoln. Doc was a nice enough guy, seemed pretty normal compared to the angry, slightly brooding guy he came here with, and I was beyond thankful for Richie to have brought them here.
Still, I’d be happy to see them go. It meant we were one step closer to payback, and even though I didn’t know who had shot up our place, I would kill every single DeLuca loyalist until I did.
Or until they were all dead. Either or. I wouldn’t be too picky about it.
When beams of light shone through the windows in the front of the cabin, I peeked through the glass, squinting. “It’s them,” I said. My heart beat a little faster, knowing I’d see Lola shortly. I needed to know how it went, if her brother had met his comeuppance after all these years.
Doc had gathered his bags near the door, but he currently sat on the couch, toying with the buttons on his sleeve cuffs. He hardly looked up when I announced it, while Lincoln let out a groan and muttered, “About fucking time. I’m ready to leave this dump, no offense.” That last part was spoken to Richie, who frowned at the stranger.
I was ready to leap into the conversation and say this wasn’t a dump, because this was where Richie wanted to live after it was all said and done, but Richie moved to the couch, which caused Doc to leap to his feet. He offered Doc his hand, saying, “Thank you for your help here, and give Markus my regards.”
Doc was careful in taking his hand and shaking it, looking only a tad awkward.
“What?” Lincoln harrumphed, sneering. “I don’t get a thank you?”
“Did you pull the bullet fragments out of my brother?” I asked, not bothering to hide my snide tone.
“No,” Lincoln relented. “But I did drive all the way here. Not that you care, but that’s a lot of gas—”
“Somehow I don’t think you have to worry about gas mileage,” I muttered, folding my arms over my chest. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Richie disappeared down the hall. He didn’t want to see Lola still, or maybe he just didn’t want to see either of his sons yet. It was possible he needed to work out what to tell them, how to break the news to them that he wasn’t going to take his place, that they both would instead.
Before Lincoln could come back with a retort—for surely he was about to, judging from the way he looked at me—the cabin door opened, and Maddox and Sylvester walked in, followed shortly by Lola herself. I hardly looked at the guys, my attention solely on her.
She held onto her mask with her right hand, her blonde hair kinky like it hadn’t been brushed, some of the strands stained pink as if with blood… no, wait, definitely with blood. She turned toward me when she saw me, grinning her crazy grin when we met eyes.
Oh, yeah. Definitely blood. Her clothes were covered in it. Her shirt, her pants, even her shoes a bit. She looked like a walking crime scene, but just from the look on her face, I knew tonight’s mission had been successful.
And, fuck, even with her clothes doused in dried blood, she still looked ridiculously hot.
Lola opened her mouth to speak, but Lincoln beat her to it, saying, “I really hope you didn’t get blood all over my car. Well, I guess it’s not technically my car, but Markus will be on a rampage if the seats are stained. We try not to, you know, get fucking blood all over the fucking place. Cops tend to frown upon that. Take it from me, I used to be one.”
Maddox, Sylvester, and I all turned to glare at Lincoln, for the more he spoke, the more he grated on everyone’s nerves. Everyone except Lola’s, it seemed, for she held her hands behind her back and skipped towards him, turning the full power of her smile onto the tall, glowering one.
“There might be a little blood,” she purred out. “If there is, what will you do to me?” Lola was flirting with him, which, beyond startling us all, also pissed us off.
“All right,” Sylvester hissed out, sounding more like Maddox than himself, “Lincoln, Doc, your car is back, so
if your work here is done, I think you should leave.” His words were not a suggestion, and yet Doc was the only one who headed to the door and kept his head ducked, as if he knew someone was going to explode.
Lincoln’s dark gaze was on Lola, eyeing her up like she was a piece of meat. “I don’t know,” he spoke slowly, running his tongue over his teeth like he could imagine eating her up. “I think your girl wants me to stay for a while—”
My hand went toward my gun while Maddox’s did the same. Sylvester looked like he wanted to kill him, and it was Doc who interjected, “Uh, Lincoln? I don’t think your girl would like that very much.”
Lincoln ground his teeth and glared at the good doctor.
“I mean, I don’t think she likes you sampling the local flavor unless she’s with you, and we both know how those nights turn out,” Doc spoke, sounding quite awkward but managing to stand his ground nonetheless. Surprising. To me, he whispered, “It usually involves a lot of clean-up, because someone ends up dead. Call me crazy, but I don’t think you’d like that happening to Lola.” He said nothing else as he picked up his bags and left, starting to pack the car without Lincoln’s help.
Lola must’ve heard him, so she told Lincoln, “You must have some brass balls on you to think you and your girl could take me. Shall we give it a go?” If that wasn’t an invitation for chaos and certain bodily destruction, I didn’t know what was.
It took Lincoln a moment to say, “Maybe next time, Blondie.” He moved around her and saluted Maddox, Sylvester and me on his way out, leaving the door open even though Doc had finished packing the car. Because, you know, he was an asshole and that’s what assholes did, I guess: left doors open and hit on your girl.
Regardless, once they drove off, Sylvester shut the door, not bothering to hide his scowl as he turned to glare at Lola, who was already on the receiving end of a glower from Maddox and me. Couldn’t help it. Got a little territorial when it came to her, even though we were all sharing her, go figure.
“What?” Lola spoke with a shrug of her shoulders. She set the metal mask on the counter in the kitchen, leaning her backside against it.
Violent Heart: A Dark Reverse Harem (A Death So Sweet Book 3) Page 18
