“I’ve never seen you so bent out of shape for anything. Ever.”
He sighs. “I’ve never fucked anything up like I did with her.”
I raise my eyebrows. “That’s true.”
“You should have just listened to me. She didn’t know shit. There was no reason to send me to kill her to begin with.”
“You should have done your job and just shot her, not go and fuck her. That’s where you fucked up.”
He’s silent again, his black eyes flashing.
“You love this girl?”
Christian darts up from his chair. “I don’t fucking know! I don’t want her to disappear with our baby. I wanna fucking make things right. She still thinks I want to kill her. Love.” He scoffs. “I don’t know what that is. Do you?”
I bark out a laugh. “I don’t do love. I fuck ‘em and leave ‘em. It’s dangerous to get attached, Christiano. Look at yourself, you’ve lost it. What’s so special with this girl?”
“You’ve met her,” he snarls and starts pacing the room.
I have. A tiny doe-eyed person, scared to death, and still she came here to bargain for her life. An impressive little lady. As it happens, also the mother of a Russo because my nephew forgot to use a condom when he put his cock in her. I liked her and I do see the appeal. I just don’t understand the obsession. The impression she’s made on Christian makes her dangerous because he has become reckless and a loose cannon.
“I’ve got a mission for you. It’s out of state.” I actually don’t, but I’ll find something. Right now I want him busy and out of my sight. He’ll come around eventually, but clearly it’s taking some time.
“What? The farther the better.”
“I’ll call you. Go get yourself some pussy.” I stand and walk around the desk, putting a hand on his shoulder. He’s clearly been working out. His muscles bulge and it feels as if I’m touching a slab of rock.
He shakes off my hand and I let it fall.
“Yeah,” he says darkly. “I know what I’ll do tonight.” He spins around and strides over to the door, ripping it open and slamming it shut behind him.
I shake my head, feeling almost sorry for whoever he hits up, and push the button on the intercom. “Ivan.”
“Sir?”
“Have a fucking carpenter come look at the hinges of my office door.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And have someone bring me a Grappa and an espresso.” I let go of the button, but then I push it again. “And a girl.”
“Any particular flavor?”
I ponder this a little. Young Kerry flashes before my mind. I’d never go for anyone Christian has claimed for his, out of respect for him, but right now she pisses me off like fuck and I need to take that out on someone.
“Redhead. Short. Slim.”
“Yes, sir.”
Chapter 3
Chloe
The walls tilt and the floor heaves as I stand before my front door with my key in my hand. I put a hand to my head, trying to make the world stop spinning. I didn’t have that much to drink? Did I? The guys in Gayle’s band joined us, and there might have been shots, and then I think it got a little out of hand.
I smile as I unlock and enter my dark hallway, lock the door and hook the safety chain properly in its place. I had fun tonight. Tugging the chain a couple of times, I make sure it’s really locked. I have almost, almost left last night’s creepy encounter behind me, but it’s still crawling in the back of my mind. Dropping my bag on a chair, I go and chug down a large glass of water even though my stomach revolts. My headache will be epic in the morning no matter what and this should help at least a little. They say.
As I stare out into the black night, I try to remember when the last time was that I went to see Charlie, my stray of a younger brother. He called and left a message on my voicemail a few days ago. I haven’t called him back yet. The bastard. When the cops caught him was one of the few times that I was actually glad our parents were dead so they didn’t have to see the mess we got ourselves in. When my other brother, Chad messed up too. I couldn’t take it anymore. I moved from Atlanta as soon as I could and built a new life for myself where no one knew me, making up a pretty story about my background and family. It works for the most part. I’ve been kind of happy. I have a hard time letting people in, trusting people, but I’ve had my little haven. Until everything crashed, until Kerry got involved with the mob. It’s as if darkness follows in my footsteps. I never entirely get away.
Putting the glass in the sink, I make my way to the bathroom where I stand for a long time in front of the mirror, trying to get rid of the makeup before I brush my teeth. Our dentist dad ingrained it in us since we were little. Brush teeth twice a day, and sweets only on Saturdays. That was before he and Mom got robbed and shot to death.
My bedroom is pitch black and when I reach out to turn on the light, my fingers touch something soft, warm, and hairy.
Skin.
I cry out and try to throw myself back, my heart almost stopping. Strong fingers close around my arm in a vice grip and pull me inside.
My mind blanks out and my whole body screams in terror. As I’m thrown face first into the wall, my brain finally connects with my vocal cords. “No!” I squirm and whimper as I try to get loose. A huge, hard body presses against me from behind, pinning me against the wall, a gloved hand comes up to cover my mouth.
“Shut up,” growls a voice so deep, it vibrates through my body, a scent of whiskey on his breath.
I mewl into his palm, going slack with fear as tears fill my eyes.
“Nothing’s gonna happen. I’m just gonna ask you some questions, and you are not going to scream, are we clear?”
Nodding eagerly, I hope I can get him off me for a second so I can run. He slowly removes his hand, and as soon as I can take a proper breath, I scream.
“Help!”
My head connects with the wall so hard I almost black out. Once. Twice.
“Fucking bitch!” he snarls and grips around my throat.
“Please don’t hurt me,” I whisper into the dark, to the rage that has fallen upon me. I’m nauseous and wetness trickles from my nostrils over my lips.
He throws me to the floor, his hand still gripping my throat too hard. I can just about get air, but not enough to do more than wheeze. “Who are you?”
A part of me already knows. This is what I’ve been waiting for. This has been my fate ever since I set foot in Kerry’s house that night and found her beaten, ever since I made her tell me her secret.
“I can be a very brief visitor.” He leans in close, nose to nose. I only see him as a vague shape in the dim light that comes from the streetlight outside. “Or I can be your worst nightmare. Your choice.”
My chest heaves as I try to breathe, and my throat hurts immensely from his bruisingly hard grip. I wait for him to say more as terror spreads through my veins, filling them with ice so cold it burns. I have a horrifying feeling I won’t be able to help him and that it is really bad news for me.
“Where is Kerry Jackson?”
Yeah. That.
“I don’t know,” I whisper, then I scream as he grabs my hair and slams my head against the floor so hard that I bite my tongue.
“Bullshit! Where is your friend?”
Tears stream down my cheeks as I push against him, trying to break free from his grip. He changes position and straddles me, pinning my arms to my sides. I have no leverage, I’m stuck under this terrifying mountain of muscle and raw, vicious strength.
“Please!”
He slams my head against the floor again, making it explode in pain, and leans in, his whiskey-tainted breath fanning my face. “Tell me, you fucking bitch, or you’re in for a world of hurt. Trust me, girl, you don’t want to know what I can do to a human body.”
I breathe in short gasps, my heart beating so hard it’s choking me. “What—What do you want with her?”
He clutches my hair harder. “That’s none of your co
ncern.”
I wish I knew where she is, and I’m eternally happy I don’t.
“You’re the one who tried to kill her. It’s you she ran from.”
He scoffs and suddenly lets me go, getting off me. “See, I knew I was right. She told you. Be good to yourself and tell me where she is.”
I shuffle back, but I don’t dare get up. My eyes dart between the shadow of a man and the door opening, then I throw myself toward it, on hands and knees. A boot-clad foot connects with my chest and I fly several feet before I hit the wall as the door slams closed.
“Chloe, Chloe. Do you wanna do this the hard way, or the easy way? Before I leave, you will have told me. It won’t do you any good to prolong the pain.”
I swallow hard and fight the searing new agony in my ribs that flares up with every breath. I didn’t know I could hurt this much. My head, my throat, my chest. I’ve never experienced this level of pain. A new bolt of fear clutches my throat as I remember how bruised Kerry was. From this man.
“Please, don’t hurt me,” I whimper, then I scream as he pounces on me and pulls me around so I’m facing the floor. My mouth tastes of thick, nauseating iron, and my whole face and chin is wet from tears, snot, and blood. He grabs my arm and pushes it up on my back. I cry as I arch and try to relieve the strain on my shoulder.
“Where. Is. Kerry. Jackson,” he snarls.
“I don’t know!” I scream as I kick and squirm.
“I know you fucking do!”
He pushes my arm up higher and I wail, unable to even form words. He’s going to break it!
“Please!” I don’t even recognize my voice anymore. The pain increases unbearably and then I both hear and feel the snap as he breaks my arm.
I can’t even scream, it hurts so much. He lets me go, but I can’t move. Waves of agony send rushes of heat and chills through me. His steps come and go as if he’s pacing back and forth. I crane my neck and glance at the closed door, then up at the door handle. I have to try and get away or he will kill me. I can’t give him what he wants, and in the end he will realize he has no use for me. I suddenly fully and completely realize why Kerry ran, and why she kept running.
Salvatore is behind this. That fucking monster is behind all this. It might be his goon who is hurting me, but the mob boss is the one who ordered Kerry’s death, who ordered this. Dark, ugly hate rises in me as his features flash before my eyes. I’ve seen him a few times, long ago, I fawned over how hot he was. I never knew he was the Devil in the shape of a man.
I flinch when he suddenly speaks.
“I won’t hurt your friend. I just want to talk to her.”
“Bullshit,” I wheeze.
He crouches before me. I see him better now that my eyes have adjusted a little to the dark, but I still can’t make out his features.
“I don’t know where she is,” I whisper. “It’s the truth.”
“Well, you’re out of luck, Chloe Becker, because I don’t believe you, and I don’t give up.”
“Please.”
My head rocks back as he slams his fist in my face. My nose cracks and blood fills my mouth.
“Fucking tell me,” he roars.
When I come to, I’m alone in the room. Everything is silent. It’s still dark, but there’s a faint gray light outside. Through the ever-present San Francisco mist, dawn is approaching. The door stands ajar. After one single blissful moment of confusion and numbness, a freight train of pain crashes into me. Involuntary sobs hitch in my throat and I can’t control the shivers. I’m lying on my back, my face feels dry and too tight. I panic when I try to open my eyes and only get a slit open on one of them. Raising my arm to touch my face I scream when pain shoots through my shoulder. It begins to come back to me. The man in the dark. His questions. He hurt me. Bad. He started punching me and my memories after that are fragmented. I don’t know when it stopped. Maybe he thought I was dead?
Suddenly a pair of boot-clad feet appear before me and I wail hoarsely. I thought he had left.
“Please,” I whisper to his feet. I don’t dare to look up. My lips are so swollen that the word comes out thick and wrong ‘Pweesh’.’
He crouches, resting his forearms on his knees, holding one gloved hand over the other, then he reaches out and pulls the hair away from my face. I whimper and try to scramble back.
“Chloe. I will find Kerry. I will never stop. Do you understand?” His voice is like a dark void, filled with emotion I can’t interpret, can’t understand, don’t want to know about.
For the first time I see his features. He looks grim, and not sorry at all. His eyes are black and hard like opals. I can’t stop shaking. I can’t stop the sobs. He drops a bag, my brown leather bag, on the floor and then he sighs heavily and stands. I stare emptily in front of me, praying he’ll leave. The sound of his footsteps recedes and then the front door slams closed.
I lie unmoving for a long time, listening to the silence as pain pounds heavy in my head, my face, my arm, my chest. The room spins as soon as I try to open my eyes. When nothing else happens, I reach for my bag with my good arm, screaming from the agony as I move. I feel through the content until my fingers close around my phone. Curled up in a fetal position, I force an eye open and manage to unlock the phone and call 911. It takes a few tries, but finally I get the numbers right.
Luciano
At first I don’t know what wakes me. Then the phone chimes again and I groan as I pick it up and check the time. Four fucking thirty in the morning. Christian.
I kill the call, turn off the sound, and turn on the other side.
“Motherfucking sonofabitch!” I grab the phone that now buzzes against the bedside table and tap open the call. “For fuck’s sake,” I roar, then I kill it again. He’s probably drunk out of his ass.
My sheets reek of sex and my mouth is dry. I kicked out the redhead hours ago, limping and whimpering, her backside flaming red. The memory of her hot, tight little cunt makes my cock twitch to life again. I sigh and push the comforter off me, hitting the intercom button.
“Sir?”
One of my staff answers almost immediately.
“Send someone to fix my bed. It stinks.”
“Yes, sir.”
I push my fingers through my mess of hair and find a pair of track pants in a drawer. A little further down the hallway lies my gym. An hour with the weights should take some of the pressure off. There’s always something. Eric’s planning a hostile takeover of the Crimson Clubs and that’s gonna make us some new enemies to keep an eye on. We need to find good staff pronto to not lose income. There’s the issue with one of my men making contacts in Vegas. He’s been taken care of, but we need to weed out whoever else might have been involved, and we need to sort out what the motherfucker disclosed about us.
My head hurts as I work the barbell. Pecs. Deadlifts. Lunges. I’m sweating profusely, feeling how the booze from last night leaves my system.
Then there’s my nephew, Christian. He’s fucked up royally. He shouldn’t have gotten involved with his hit, even though I admit she’s a one-of-a-kind lady.
My mind spins as I drop the barbell to the floor with a heavy thud and head back to my bedroom and a shower. It’s early morning. My bed has been made and a window stands ajar. The first birds have started singing hesitantly and the ever-present fog lies like a carpet over the vast lawn. The sun will chase it off in a couple of hours, but right now it mutes the world, embraces it. I like the heat and the sun. It’s a wonder I chose the city of fog to settle in, but here we are, and my network is too intricately woven into the community on the West Coast. I can’t tear it up now.
As I shower and let the cool water re-energize me, I think of the woman who made me set foot here in the first place. Elena Wokowska. She was forty. I was twenty-four. She was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. We were never a real thing. It wasn’t love. But with her being a masochist, and completely uninhibited, she awoke the sadist in me. I was already ruthless. I killed whoever g
ot in my way without a second thought, but it wasn’t until then that I knew what I wanted. Sex before Elena had been an uninteresting push them down, spread their legs and fuck them until I got off. Sex with Elena, and after her, became my own savage art form. I know I hurt them, and that’s exactly how I want it, how I need it. It makes me invincible, above everyone, puts fear in the men and the women who pass through my life. I’ll never again have to go back to being cold, hungry, dirty and abandoned. I take, and everyone else gives.
My cock grows and I wish I hadn’t sent off the redhead. I should have just chained her to the wall and gagged her. If she’d sat out there right now, I’d have pulled her up by her thick, lush hair and pushed her face first to the bed, ravaging her tight little ass.
I turn the faucet until the water is ice cold and finish the shower. It’s six, and I probably didn’t sleep more than a couple of hours, but I might as well start the day.
The house is silent as I leave my wing and walk through the rooms until I reach the kitchen. There I stop flat. At the table sits a hulking Christian, disheveled, hunched over, nurturing a large cup of black java. The scent of coffee is enticing. The sight of my nephew isn’t.
“What the fuck are you doing here? You woke me, you piece of shit.” I cross the kitchen and turn on the espresso machine, waiting for the pressure to rise. Placing a cup of water in the microwave oven I let the thick china preheat as I drop beans into the grinder.
“I’m a bad man,” mutters Christian.
I raise an eyebrow and turn to him, unsure how to respond to that. Apart from his loyalty to the family, and his admirable protective instincts of his sister Angela, there’s not one good fiber in him.
Preparing my cup, I then take it to the table and sit opposite my mess of a relative.
“No, I’m really fucking bad. I went to Kerry’s friend.”
“And?”
“I beat her up. Bad.”
“And?”
“I don’t have a habit of beating up girls. I don’t know what the fuck’s wrong with me, Luci.”
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