You see, back then, the core five thought they could do whatever they wanted because they had no longer been under the direct authority of the original Sicilian families. The Sicilian syndicate still ran everything to this day, the Gabbiano family occupying the highest throne. They essentially headed up the entire Italian mafia organization.
Right now, the New York families were discovering just how little power they really held in comparison to the Sicilians.
There was a decades-long saying: Once you crossed the Gabbianos, only death awaited you.
Which was a disturbing thought, since Vinnie D’Angelo was supposedly now on their shit list, along with my family. Vinnie had started to form an opposition against the Esposito leadership, which by association, was opposing the Sicilians. My family took down two New York bosses, which might as well have been a declaration of war.
And to top it all off?
The Gabbianos would be arriving in New York any day.
We had no idea of their intentions, but we knew they weren’t going to take our actions lightly. Removing both Esposito bosses from the equation was definitely not sitting well with the high family. Cris had taken down Raphael. So, they’d sent Stefano after Cris in retribution, and Stefano was killed for it. There was no way the Gabbianos would let that shit go. Add to the fact that they still hated our family line for denouncing the old ways over a hundred years ago, and you had the makings of a full-blown war.
We knew they were coming for us.
We just didn’t know how or when.
All of that had led me to staking out this hospital that Roxy worked in, like a creepy motherfucker.
But I wasn’t taking any chances. Not with her.
The Gabbianos weren’t above going after innocent family members. Vinnie had tried to get the other families to join him in the opposition before Stefano’s death, which hadn’t pleased the high family. And if they wanted to control Vinnie, they could easily do it through Roxy. She no longer had her older brother Filip to look out for her. I didn’t trust Vinnie’s judgment at this point. So, the job fell to me.
Why she’d thought taking a job at a Brooklyn hospital would be a good idea, though, was a fucking mystery to me.
And at the closest hospital to my house, no less?
Coincidence? Survey says no.
There were plenty of hospitals in Manhattan. There was a reason she’d chosen this particular one. And I could admit in the quiet, secluded privacy of my car that I hoped to God her choice had everything to do with me.
Fifteen minutes after her shift officially ended, she walked through the automatic double doors, still dressed in her scrubs and comfy shoes with her wild hair pulled into a knot on top of her head.
She took my breath away.
I couldn’t make sense of this crazy reaction I was having to her.
Yesterday at the church, I had wanted her with a desperate urgency I’d never felt before in my life. And inexplicably, not seeing her for the last thirty-three hours had only exacerbated that feeling.
I sat up straighter in the driver’s seat to get a better look at her through my windshield. She stood on the sidewalk for a moment and pulled her hair knot loose, sending the dark brown, wavy tresses tumbling around her shoulders.
Good God, she’s so fucking beautiful.
Those waves had been unmanageable, springy curls in her youth. Cute on a ten-year-old, though she had often complained about them to Gia, wishing she’d had smooth, straight hair like my sister.
I slowly shook my head against that thought.
It would be an unforgiveable sin to straighten that hair out.
Over time, the curls had smoothed out into perfect waves that seemed to never lose their volume. That was Italian hair, for sure. Something she had inherited from her late mother, who had also been a beauty. Roxy tipped her head back and shook out her locks, using her fingers to comb through the tangles.
So much I could do with a mass of hair like that.
I imagined those waves bouncing around as Roxy rocked her hips over me, with me plunged deeply inside her. Then I pictured my hand pulling all of it back into a makeshift ponytail as I shoved into her from behind, making that luscious ass jiggle with every thrust.
Christ.
My windows were bound to fog up if I kept thinking like that. And a grown man sitting alone in a fogged-up car? I didn’t need the cops slapping any handcuffs on me tonight.
She left her hair hanging loosely and started striding down the street, no doubt heading for the subway station.
It pissed me off on an unholy level that she’d be foolish enough to take the goddamn subway at this time of night. Did she know nothing about personal safety? Probably not, since she’d been ensconced in her boarding school bubble for how many years and then in a Yale dorm room after that.
But still.
Vinnie should have taught her a thing or two, especially considering the life he led. Worthless asshole. He and Dad had once been very good friends, but I had no respect for the man if he was going to let his only daughter get caught up in the danger between him and the rest of the families.
Especially since his wife and son had been killed in similar circumstances.
Not that mafia involvement had ever been proved.
The official report said the car crash had been a complete accident. But we all had our suspicions. Something much more nefarious had been at play that fateful night five years ago. I was positive that someone—or multiple someones—from the families was responsible for their deaths.
And damned if I’d let the old man endanger Roxy, too.
I decided I’d watch to make sure she got to the station safely and then I’d head home. She wouldn’t get off until her stop in Hell’s Kitchen, which was only about a block from her father’s place. And no one on the streets of Hell’s Kitchen would dare touch her.
She’d be safe once she got to the station.
That’s when the two bastards appeared from the shadows.
They craned their necks as they watched Roxy walk away. I saw the moment it clicked in their minds to set their sights on her.
They took off in her direction.
I bolted from the car, my heart climbing up my throat as a red veil of fury fell over my eyes. These low lives seriously had no idea who they were messing with.
I was still jogging to catch up by the time they cut her off when she tried to turn a corner. Then they were backing her up against the building, caging her in like trapped prey. Rapidly approaching from behind, I was close enough to hear when one of them sneered at her, “If you make one sound, we’ll fuckin’ cut you, bitch.”
I went cold inside.
Fucking Arctic…ice…cold.
The balmy night was a welcome reprieve from the stifling hospital air I’d been breathing in for nine hours.
The internship was already going great. Since I technically wasn’t a med student yet, my job in the emergency room involved shadowing various physicians, observing surgeries, helping with patient intake, and doing whatever other administrative tasks they might need extra hands for. I didn’t have my certifications yet, so my scope was limited. The shadowing alone, though, was going to be hugely beneficial. Not to mention the networking channels I’d have access to.
A groan escaped my mouth before I could contain it. My neck was stiff, my back muscles tense, and I longed for a nice, hot bubble bath in the clawfoot tub in my bathroom at Papà’s home.
My heartstrings twisted at those words.
Over the years, it had felt more and more like Papà’s home, rather than ours. He was the only family I had left in it, and I hadn’t lived there for years. And as heart-wrenching as it was to admit, I hadn’t missed it all that much. The brownstone held far too many memories of Mamà and Filip, of growing up together as a family. Being there, surrounded by all of their things that Papà couldn’t bear to get rid of, hurt more than it healed.
I let my hair out of the topknot I’d thrown it up in
hours ago. I knew the longer I kept it tied up like that, the more tangles I’d have to battle before bedtime. I went through gallons and gallons of conditioner in a year.
The New York City subway was gross and unpleasant and not exactly where I wanted to be at eleven o’clock at night. But the great thing was that it ran 24/7, and since I didn’t have a car, it suited my needs when I had late night shifts. I had already memorized how many steps it took me to get to the station, how many streetlamps I passed, how many parking meters, and how many intersections with traffic lights.
I took off at a brisk pace down the sidewalk, counting my steps and keeping my attention trained in front of me. One of the rules you learned when walking down the street at night was to never look down alleyways. You never knew what you might see and wished you hadn’t.
In this case, that rule came back to bite me on the ass.
I’d only gone about seven feet past one particularly dark alley when I heard purposeful footsteps behind me.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.
I instantly got a bad feeling.
I picked up my pace, but the footsteps stayed right with me. By my estimation, they were around ten feet behind me, though I wasn’t about to turn around to confirm. I just went faster and faster until my own footsteps matched the erratic beating of my heart.
Nine feet behind me.
Eight feet.
Seven.
Six, five, four.
I carefully reached into my purse and closed my fingers around my can of mace just as I was about to turn the corner.
A body lurched out in front of me, cutting off my path.
The man was tall and lanky, with scraggly facial hair and bloodshot eyes. His clothes were baggy and smelly, and the beanie on top of his head had seen better days.
Oh yeah, and he was waving a knife right in front of my face. Awesome.
Just looking at it made me feel like I needed a tetanus shot.
“A girl like you walkin’ the streets and hangin’ around corners at night”—he clucked his tongue admonishingly— “that only ever means one thing.”
Really? I was wearing wrinkled scrubs and worn tennis shoes.
He advanced on me with the knife until my back was plastered against the brick wall of the building behind me. That’s when I realized Knife Boy wasn’t alone. His shorter friend that smelled disturbingly like almonds closed in on my other side, his mouth contorted in an ugly sneer as his eyes trailed down my body.
“Mmm,” he grunted in agreement. “And judgin’ from the backside, I’d say she’s definitely got the talent for it.”
Knife Boy laughed at that, inching his dirty blade closer and closer to my face. “She looks like a newbie, though. Bet we could show her some things.”
I swallowed around the lump in my throat, my fingers gripping the mace tightly. I was prepared to run like hell once I sprayed them, but I didn’t want my face to get sliced up in the process.
“You need to step away,” I told them, forcing my voice not to tremble.
Knife Boy ran the tip of the blade down my cheek. Just a graze, not enough to hurt, but I didn’t trust this guy to have a steady hand. One small slip was all it took for me to be heading right back into that emergency room, this time as a patient.
“And why’s that?” he said with a raspy, smoker’s voice. “You ain’t nothin’ but an itty-bitty little thing. What are you gonna do?”
He might have towered over my five-foot-two frame, but I knew I could be quicker. I was pretty spry. And the trainer at the one kickboxing class I’d taken in college had said I packed quite a bit of power in my kicks.
Knife Boy also didn’t know who my father was.
I wanted to believe that Papà was a good man deep down. But I also knew that he could be dangerous when crossed. He’d done some bad things, to what end I didn’t know and didn’t want to. If these guys actually hurt me, I had no illusions that Papà would skin them alive and leave their entrails for their families to find.
I was trying to do these guys a favor.
“Just because I’m small, don’t think I’ll make anything easy for you.”
Knife Boy snarled. “You make one sound and I’ll fuckin’ cut you, bitch.”
Where the brave smile came from, I had no idea. But I felt it stretch across my face as I began to lift my hand out of my purse.
“You’re the one who’s going to be screaming,” I whispered.
Then I leaned as far away from the knife as I could and pulled out the mace. The toxic spray got them directly in the eyes before they could even react.
“Ah, fuck! You bitch!”
They howled like banshees, their palms pressed against their eyes.
I turned on my heel to run in the other direction, but Knife Boy apparently wasn’t incapacitated enough. He blindly reached out and snagged the back of my scrub top. The abrupt halt of my movements sent me stumbling. My toe caught on an uneven crack in the sidewalk, tripping me, and I went down hard. I stifled a cry as pain shot up my leg from my knee where tiny rocks had punctured my skin through my thin scrub bottoms.
Then his hands started grappling with my legs, pulling on the fabric of my pants.
That’s when I panicked.
I wiggled and kicked and did everything I could to escape his hold. For a guy who just got nailed in the face with mace, he had a surprisingly firm grip.
“You goddamn whore,” he spat as he crawled up my body.
His weight pushed me into the concrete, making it difficult to breathe.
“I’m gonna make you fuckin’ pay for that.”
I kept squirming with all my might. I knew things would take a drastic turn if he managed to get fully on top of me.
I almost forgot about his friend until I heard a thump and some grunting come from behind us. Knife Boy wasn’t deterred by the noises and continued pawing at my clothes. I had just opened my mouth to start screaming my head off when his heavy weight was suddenly lifted off me.
Or was thrown off me.
I whirled around in time to see Knife Boy being launched against the brick wall, his back slamming against the surface with a sickening thud.
The only view I had of my savior was of his back. He loomed menacingly over my attacker, clenching his fists at his sides, his muscled shoulders rising and falling with his labored breaths. The shorter guy lay sprawled on his side, his eyes closed.
Oh, my God. Did he kill him?
My savior snapped the knife in half with little more than a flick of his wrist. He grabbed Knife Boy by his shirt collar and roughly shoved him against the wall.
“I was trying to break your fucking back just now,” he growled. “Be grateful my aim is off tonight.”
My heart thumped so hard in my chest it bordered on painful. I’d recognize that masculine rumble anywhere.
Ace.
What the hell was he doing here?
Knife Boy still looked like he was in a fair amount of pain, though he still managed to croak out, “We wasn’t doin’ nothin’, man. Bitch just sprayed—”
Blood and spittle went flying out of Knife Boy’s mouth when Ace’s fist connected with his cheek three quick times.
The hits were hard enough to make me wince.
“Keep calling her names, asshole,” Ace hissed. “I’ve got all fucking night to beat the shit out of you. It’ll be the most fun I’ve had all week.”
And the guy still wouldn’t quit.
Blood dripped from his lip as he glared at Ace. “My crew’s gonna come after you, fucker. You don’t wanna fuck wit us.”
Ace snickered, the sound making me shiver.
I’d never seen this side of him before. Never heard him sound so…hostile. So violent.
He pointed back at me. “Do you have any idea who she is?”
Knife Boy looked quizzically at me, his bravado faltering for the first time.
Ace said something to him in a voice so low I couldn’t hear his words.
Knife Boy’s eyes widened instantly. He tried to jerk out of Ace’s grasp. “Shit! I d-didn’t know,” he stammered. “P-please. I didn’t know!”
“And now you do,” Ace said. “Which means you know exactly what will happen if you go anywhere near her again. Matter of fact, I don’t want to even see you on this fucking street again. Believe me, I’ll know if you are.”
“I won’t, man! I swear, I’ll stay away!”
Ace let him go with a scowl of disgust, but not before launching his fist into the man’s gut one final time. Doubled over and limping, Knife Boy frantically scooped his friend up off the ground. They disappeared into the night, trailing the stench of fear in their wake.
My shocked gaze eventually collided with Ace’s.
Only, his wasn’t really shocked.
More like enraged.
“Save your explanations, Rox,” he growled furiously. “Because I’m about to strangle you myself.”
Words were trapped in my throat as I stared warily up at Ace, who was still hovering over me in a fiercely protective stance.
“W-what?”
His nostrils flared as he pulled me to my feet. “Did he hurt you?”
His hands framed my face, making it impossible to answer right away. His fingers gently moved over my skin, inspecting me for injuries.
“I’m okay,” I whispered. His intent eyes met mine. “I’m not hurt.”
His expression said he didn’t believe me. Then it simmered with anger once again as his gaze lowered to my legs. He knelt down in front of me, cursing under his breath. I jolted when his fingers skimmed over my knee where my pants were ripped.
“We need to clean this and put something on it,” he murmured in a gruff tone as he carefully pried some of tiny rocks from the bleeding wound.
Scars and Sins (Brooklyn Brothers Book 2) Page 4
