by S. M. Dapelo
“Right,” Luc growled at him as we got into the car. “Like you’d ever let me forget.” Marc hit the roof, and the car took off.
“So, what’s it gonna take,” Luc stared to say.
Feddi interrupted him, “You’re going. You always told me to take the liability out first. Right now, you’re the liability.” He smirked in the rearview mirror, “No offense.”
“You suck, kid,” he growled back. Feddi only laughed. Before long, we were pulling up to the high rise and up an elevator to the apartment.
Luc led me to an enormous bedroom, “Go take a shower. I have t-shirts in one drawer. I’ll clean up in a different room.”
I walked into the bathroom, heating the shower as hot as I could take it, cleaning the blood off. My hands were shaking, and I realized I was sobbing. I’d always known my father had lived a violent life; it had just never touched me until recently. Dom had been killed and now I witnessed a woman get gunned down. I eventually stopped and got out, pulling a long shirt on.
I wandered into the living room, Luc was texting on the phone, dressed in a suit again. “What’s going on?” I asked.
He finished a text and then looked at me. “Marc just texted. I need to be at this dinner. It’ll look weak if I’m not. You’re safe here, I’ve got guards in the apartments under and next to this one. I’ll be back in a few hours.”
“Okay.” I frowned, “If you need to, you need to.”
“Thank you for understanding,” he leaned over and kissed me. “Hey, Feddi put some stuff in the room there,” he nodded his head toward a door. “It’s my office, but it’s set up so you can paint if you want to. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
I forced a smile, “Okay. Thank you.”
“For you, button, anything.” He gave me another kiss and walked out the door. I bit my lip because unease wouldn’t stop crawling up my back.
14
I wandered around the apartment for a while after Luc left, wringing my hands. Finally, I walked into the office area. Everything was modern with glass and chrome. Even the filing cabinet was chrome. I walked to the easel and stared at it for a bit, the only picture in my head was Tiffany’s glazed over eyes and the blood pooling under her on the floor. I shook my head; it wasn’t something I wanted to work out right now.
I went to Luc’s glass desk and could see the dark wood flooring through it. I pulled on the filing cabinet and it slid open. The file caught my eye immediately. “Dominic Amato” was written across the top. I pulled it out and noticed a second behind it, “Alessandra Amato”. I grabbed that file as well and noted the rest of the files. They were names and places of people I recognized, but nothing of concern as far as I realized.
I sat at the desk and opened my file. Pictures of me from childhood, at various artists’ retreats with Mom and picnics with Dad were in there. A list of all my credit card numbers plus pictures of a lot of my paintings were in there with notes to the side on some of them with “Boulder?” written, then scratched out and a list of all my closer friends from college. There were even notes on my styles of painting. Luc had done his homework on me. There was another note with my Colorado Springs Gallery website on it and a scratched-out question mark.
I opened Dom’s file. It wasn’t as thick as mine, but Luc had said he was told to work on finding me first. There were pictures from high school, a picture of Dom and Marc together looking young and happy, notes from his college years and a picture of him talking to me right after my college graduation. Then I felt myself turn cold and my stomach lurched. I made it to the waste basket before anything came up, emptying the contents of my stomach into it. Tiffany’s death had been horrifying, but nothing like the pictures they had from Dom’s shooting.
I slowly got to my feet and stumbled back to the desk. I had read in the newspaper about my brother being shot. The reporting failed to mention most of his face and the top of his head were missing. Even from the photos, the amount of blood horrified me. I took the picture with shaking hands, unable to look away. A large hand grabbed the photo from me.
“Alley,” Marc yelled, “Where’s Luc?” Then he glanced at the photo, “Son-of-a… how did you get a hold of this?”
I blinked for a couple of seconds, “What do you mean where’s Luc?” I shook my head, “Luc was going to meet you and Dad. You texted him.”
Marc’s eyes flashed as he pulled a cell to his ear. “Where the hell are you,” he said in a deep voice. Then louder, “Where are you? Get back to the safe house now.” He disconcerted then called another number, “I need all hands-on deck. Triangulate on Luca’s cell phone. They’re under fire. Get to him now.” He hung up and ran a hand through his hair.
After a second he looked up at me, “I’m going to have one of my men stay with you. Do not leave. I’ve got to get to Luc,” he headed to the door. My heart moved up to my throat, I could hear the roaring of my blood in my ears.
I chased after him, “What happened?”
“I heard gunfire,” he muttered. “They should be…” his phone rang, and he answered, “Yeah?” he was quiet for a few seconds. “I’ll be here when you arrive. I’ll have Dr. Siento waiting. You and I are going to talk.”
“Marc?” I realized my voice was raising.
He put up a finger, “One more minute Alley.” He dialed a number and barked something in Italian, then hung up. He looked at me, “He was ambushed. They got away, but not without injury.”
I took a breath, “How bad?”
“He’s been hit, but he’s lucid and talking. We have a doctor arriving the same time he does.” I realized how white Marc had gone.
“He’s okay?” I asked.
Marc tried to be casual as he forced a smile, “Of course he is. He’s Luca.” I threw myself at him and hugged him. “He’s fine Alley. I know you care about him, but he’s okay. You’re going to have him around a long time,” he patted my back awkwardly, then pulled me back. “Go change, before the rest of the men show.” I nodded and ran into the bedroom, putting on a pair of leggings under the shirt. I walked back to him.
“I think we should focus on Luc,” I said.
“Nope,” he shook his head. “Where did you find those crime scene photos?”
“In the file cabinet,” I shrugged, realizing he was trying to focus on anything but his brother.
“And you thought it was okay to get into that, why?” he asked.
“Because Dom was my brother,” I growled back. “I want to help find his killer. I wasn’t expecting…”
“No one told you how bad it was?” he asked.
I shook my head, “No.”
Marc stared at the wall, “Seeing your sibling’s body can be traumatic in so many ways.” His face softened, “We’ll find him. I promise.” The door crashed opened, and his face hardened again, “Right after I deal with a defiant baby brother.”
Luc was being held up by Feddi. “I’m fine,” he ground out, “It was a through and through.”
“Where?” Marc pulled his jacked back.
“Upper arm. I just need it bandaged. Everyone needs to stop acting like I’m an infant,” he growled, shrugging off Feddi.
“That’s not why I’m mad.” Marc glared at him, “You were told to stay here with your fiancé.”
“Alley understands I need to work,” Luc stated.
“Not right after she witnessed a murder,” Marc poked him in the chest. “She needs to feel safe.”
A small Mexican man walked in, “What’s going on?”
“Luca claims it’s a through and through. He’ll need stitches and a tetanus booster,” Marc didn’t look away from Luc.
“I can look at him in the bedroom,” the doctors started that way.
“No, take him into the office. He needs to see what he left open for his fiancé to find,” Marc ordered.
Luc gave him a questioning look and walked into the office. I went to follow, but Marc caught my arm, “You’re coming with me. He can pretend he’s a big powerfu
l man after getting stitches and cleaned up.” I followed him into the kitchen where he opened a cabinet and pulled a bottle out. “Did you take your meds today?”
“I tossed them,” I admitted. “I’m trying to taper off.”
“That’s a clever idea.” He smiled and poured two glasses, “Drink this.”
I took a sip and gagged. It was vile. “What is this?”
“Cotton Candy flavored vodka. One girl I dated brought it.” He took a sip and made a face. “I thought it was a girl thing.”
“Vodka is not meant to taste like this,” I poured the rest of my glass down the sink. Marc followed suit and then emptied the bottle.
He pulled another bottle of 1792 Ridgemont Reserve, poured, and handed me a glass. “Let’s just stick with bourbon.”
“Sounds good,” I drank it.
“Son of a bitch,” I heard Luc yell from the other room.
“Pain or the pictures?” I winced.
“Or the vomit in his trashcan,” smirked Marc as he leaned back against the counter. “Could be any of it and he deserves it all. He was told to stay in with you tonight. I know my brother isn’t the smartest with women, but you needed him.”
“I’m alright,” I shrugged.
Marc shook his head, “Lie to him, not to me. Just remember, he’s stupid with the opposite sex. He thinks he’s a lady’s man, but…” he lifted a shoulder.
“What the hell did you do?” Luc stormed into the kitchen shirtless, with one arm bandaged.
“I should ask you the same thing.” Marc glared at him, “You left her alone with the file cabinet unlocked.”
“I meant giving her booze,” he yanked the glass from me. “She’s on…”
“She didn’t take them earlier,” Marc said in a bored voice as he got in his face. “One of us has to take care of her.”
“I can take care of myself,” I grabbed the drink back. “What happened?”
“Yeah, I want to know that also,” Marc crossed his arms. “You were told to stay in tonight.”
“What are you talking about? I got your text and went to meet you. They ambushed us,” Luc looked at Marc who was shaking his head.
“Am I twelve? When was the last time I texted when I can call?” Marc growled. “They played you like an amateur.”
Luc gave a look of confusion, then grimaced, and looked away, “Yeah, I was.”
“The text: did it come in on the new phone?” Marc finished his drink. Luc nodded. “Then it was one of theirs.”
My heart jumped into my throat, “Wait, Dad wouldn’t…”
“Of course he wouldn’t,” Marc said. “But someone wants us to think he did. Not everyone was glad at the announcement.” He pulled out his phone and made a call, walking into the other room.
“How bad’s your arm?” I went to touch the bandage, but Luc grabbed my hand, staring at me.
“Not bad. It’ll be sore for a while, that’s all.” He pulled me into a hug, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left you alone. I’m still learning how to be in a relationship. I’ve never been responsible for another person’s wellbeing before. At least not by myself. Their safety? Sure. But the whole package? I’m worried I’m going to let you down.” He held me for a minute, rubbing his cheek over the top of my head. I soaked in his warmth.
“I think you’re doing pretty good right now,” I whispered.
Marc walked back into the room and handed me the phone, “Your father would like a word Alley. Luca, I want to speak to you for a moment.” He jerked his head toward the door.
I put the phone to my ear, “Yes, Daddy.”
My father’s voice came over the phone, “Alessandra, I need for you to do what Marco asks. He has an idea he wants to put into play. I agree with him. I think it will work.”
“Okay,” I said.
“Some things he suggests will make you want to revolt. Just go along with it.”
A knot formed in my stomach, “Like what?”
“No questions, just listen to Marco,” he snapped.
“Okay,” I said in a small voice. The phone disconnected. I walked into the living room, Luc was glaring at Marc, his eyes blazing with fury. “Is everything okay out here?”
“Fine,” Marc stated as he looked away from Luc with a hard face. “Finish your drink. We’re leaving in a couple of minutes.” He walked up to me, “We’re starting a rumor. Luc wasn’t hurt, they killed him. We’re going to make it look like we took you in retaliation. I need you to play this. Can you?”
“Where’s Luc going to be,” I watched as he stormed into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him with such force the painting on the wall fell.
“He’s going to dress down, wear a baseball cap, and act like one of our extra guys. He’ll be with us,” Marc smiled. “We’re leaving town tonight and sneaking back in tomorrow. Right in time for your dad’s meeting. We’ll watch the faces and see who loses it when we walk in with Luc leading.”
“Sounds good,” I nodded. “Dad made it sound like it would be a lot rougher.”
“It still might be,” Marc said. “This is only Plan A.” He walked into the kitchen and back out again with the bourbon. Then he filled my glass, “Drink up, because if this goes wrong, we’re changing to Plan B.”
I took a sip, “What’s Plan B?”
“You marry me instead of Luca,” he said with a stone face. I dropped the glass. “Wha…” I was stuttering as Luc walked back out wearing solid black. Black t-shirt, black worn jeans, black cap.
“How did you break her?” he sighed as Marc picked up the glass and putting it on the table.
“Told her Plan B,” Marc quipped then finished his drink.
“Never happening,” Luc smirked. “You grab her, get her on the plane. I’ll be there after I pick some stuff up. I’ll also run interference with the FBI. It’s time I put them in their place.”
“Leave them be,” Marc warned. “I have an outside contractor working on them. You’ll never make it in time, and I don’t feel like getting married. It’ll make me grouchy.”
“Wait,” I put my hand up, “The wedding’s not for another month.”
“Wrong, Alley. It’s happening tonight, and it’s a race to see if Luc wants it or not.” Marc gave his brother a wintry smile, “I guarantee if you don’t make it in time, you better go into witness protection. Because I will see this though and then kick your ass for making me do it.”
“You don’t have to do this,” warned Luc.
“Yes, I do,” Marc growled, grabbing my arm. “Someone from the Amato family decided if they took you out, they’d have a chance with Alley and running the whole shebang. There’s a better-than-average chance they had the same thought about taking out Dom.” He turned to me, “You have a choice, you can pretend to be fighting with me, or you can be sedated. You’re choice.”
“Mom wants a wedding, we’re giving her a wedding,” I yanked on my arm and tried backing away from Marc, who I was suspecting was insane.
“Your mother will have her wedding, Alley,” Luc said carefully, like I was the crazy one. “However, the first one is tonight, to stop the attacks.” He smiled, “Don’t worry, I’ll make it in time. You won’t end of married to a man-whore.”
“I’m not a man-whore. I just like variety and marriage would put a crimp in that,” grumbled Marc as he reached out to grab me again. “We need to get going.”
“Wait. There has to be another way,” I argued, pulling on my arm again. Marc rolled his eyes and swung me around to where my back was to him.
“Marc,” Luca started for us, but it was too late.
I felt a pinch. “I warned you, sweetheart,” Marc sighed.
“You asshole,” I muttered as my eyes closed.
When they opened, I was on the plane from a few days earlier. “You jerk,” I swung out at Marc.
“Nope,” he grabbed my arm, “This wedding’s happening. You owe it to us. We are not losing the pact along with Luca.”
I looked aroun
d the plane. There were two other men in the back, but they weren’t paying attention. “Marc is this is part of…”
“Nope,” he shook his head, his jaw hard. “We lost contact with him again five minutes before takeoff.” He stared at me with cold eyes, “If he doesn’t show, you are getting married to me. End of story.” He threw a file at me, “Here’s what we have on your brother, minus the pictures and autopsy report. You don’t need those.”
I opened the file, “You don’t have to protect me,” I remarked.
“As your maybe soon-to-be husband, it’s in the job description,” he took a sip of an amber liquid.
“Bourbon?” I asked.
“Want some?”
“If I’m marrying you, I want a lot,” I said, shuffling through the files. “Does it have who Dom’s bodyguards were?”
“No questions about Luca?” Marc’s jaw ticked.
“Luca will be fine. He probably just dropped his phone,” I let a breath out. “He has to be fine,” I mumbled.
“Oh goody,” he said sarcastically, “An optimist.”
I grabbed his drink and downed in, “No. I just don’t want to be married to you.”
“I’m hurt,” he grabbed his chest. “You know, a lot of women appreciate me.”
“I’d appreciate you more if you’d grab the bottle,” I frowned at what I read, “Two other bodies were with his, but he usually had three bodyguards when he went out. Who was missing?”
“What?” Marc grabbed the paper I was reading, “Are you sure there were only two?”
“I’m a visual person and I can’t get those photos out of my head,” I shuddered at the thought of them. “There were three bodies; Dom and two others.”
Marc got up, grabbed a bottle and another glass, and sat back down. “Did Dom always use the same guards?”
“No,” I shook my head. “I think he had some newer ones. That’s what Luca told me.” Marc’s jaw worked back and forth as he thought on this. He casually poured another glass and handed it to me and refilled his.
