Guarded (Calavera Hotels #3)

27. Nero

Chapter 27

Nero

14 YEARS OLD

C hristmas in the desert of Arizona excited everyone. While the other students counted down the days to vacation, I prepared for two weeks of Evangeline’s outbursts.

The hairs on the back of my neck prick when I open the door to the apartment. Stale cigarettes make up the aroma of the apartment. Tiptoeing past the piles of trash on the kitchen floor, I make my way down the short hallway.

Charlie starts barking, excited to see me, but it startles Evangeline, who has been sleeping on the couch all day. Empty wine bottles are hidden between the piles of stacked dishes on the counter.

“Nero. Come here.” She groans. I drop my backpack and walk to the living room.

“You know what tomorrow is?” she asks.

This was another one of her trick questions I got beat for. If I say Christmas, she’ll say I’m an idiot for not remembering my birthday, but if I say my birthday, she’ll say I’m disrespecting Jesus. I shrug cause there was no route to winning.

The manic in her eyes was a constant now. Before, the bad thing would come and go, but now the bad thing is all that’s left. She left her soul in Texas.

“You think ‘cause you’re turning fifteen, you’re a man now?” She stands up but loses her balance and tries again.

Her days consisted of drinking wine, snorting white powder she lined up on the TV tray in front of her, and finding ways to punish me for who she had become.

“You think you’re a fucking man now!” she repeats, lunging forward and striking me across the cheek.

Charlie starts barking, and she palms her head in distress.

“Shut the fuck up!” she yells at the dog.

Catching her balance, she lunges for me again until her face is parallel to mine.

“Stand in the corner till I say you can move,” she shouts.

All the beauty Evangeline had has faded to nothing. Soulless eyes stare at me, and I don’t argue. I take my place in the familiar corner, where I reacquaint myself with the images I created from the green floral wallpaper.

Charlie continues to bark. He barks and barks until Evangeline has had enough. The creaking of her chair sounds behind me. My eyes shut when I hear the loud yelping.

“Nero, come get this fucking dog!”

He’s whimpering on the ground, and I move to pick him up. Cradling his small body in my arms.

“You think you’re a man now, Nero?” she says, walking toward me. She pulls out a pistol from one of the cabinets where she hides it.

“Kill his old ass.” She nods her head to Charlie while offering me the firearm.

I shake my head and pull him tighter into me.

“I SAID KILL THE FUCKING DOG NERO!” she screams. “Kill the fucking dog, or I’ll kill you.”

She taps the muzzle of the pistol to my temple, and my heart beats loudly in my chest.

It’s just another game. Don’t let her see you’re scared.

I grab the gun from her outstretched hand. Useless tears fall from my eyes as I hug Charlie tighter into me. The gun hangs at my side from my trembling hand.

“Well? Andale!” she demands.

My heart accelerates in my chest.

Thump

Thump

Thump.

No. I can’t. Charlie is my only friend.

“Just kill me!” I cry.

Death was too good to be true. Begging her to take my life was another form of punishment. Just like Tala, death was never coming to save me.

Evangeline would get me close enough just to bring me back. That in itself was the torture, knowing I couldn’t even escape her through death. She’d never allow that kind of peace for me.

“You’re pathetic. That’s why you’ll never amount to shit. Get in the Kennel.” She snatches Charlie from my arms and pushes me into the backroom.

Her hands begin to fly at me. First to my face and then to my stomach. I drop to my knees and my body spasms. Another jab lands on my mouth, and blood flies from my dry lips. Blackness clouds me as she uses me as her personal punching bag.

I lay there counting the minutes until she’s done.

My tears were a high for Evangeline. She needs me completely broken to get to her place of euphoria. When she finally gets there, she spits on me and nudges me with her foot toward the kennel. Crawling on my stomach, I collapse when I make it inside the small cage.

“Say bye to Charlie. Happy Fucking Birthday.” She says, slamming the bedroom door behind her.

Hugging my knees to my chest, I apply pressure to the ache in my abdomen. Blood drips from my nose. The swelling in my face begins.

I rest my head on the kennel floor until my tears stop and my body settles. My top coping mechanism was to flee my mind, letting myself drift to a fictional place where I exist as another person.

Hours pass before Evangeline returns. I cry for Charlie. My oldest friend. The sun goes down as I drift in and out of sleep.

I awaken to the pitch-black room and banging on the front door. My left eye is completely swollen shut. I can’t see anything. I’m left with my other five senses. My hearing clues me into voices sounding in the kitchen.

“Evangeline! It’s time to pay up!” A deep masculine voice yells out.

“?Dónde estás perra? We’ve come to collect!” A stern feminine voice calls out before kicking down the bedroom door. When she sees me, her eyes widen.

“Santo Dios.” She murmurs.

I hear the male voice arguing with a pleading Evangeline in the background.

“I promise I’ll get you your money. I told Vicky I had to buy Christmas gifts, and....”

The woman in front of me looks around the room—a room without a bed—just the kennel and a bucket for a bathroom. Her eyes roam over the bright red paint, where Evangeline makes me write sentences on the wall as a punishment.

“I am worthless.”

“No one will ever love me.”

“I am the worst son ever.”

She shakes her head before her tear-filled eyes return to me.

“Are you okay, kid?” She touches my swollen eye.

Her hand is cold, and I wince. I shake my head and swallow down the lump forming in the back of my throat.

“I’ll be right back, okay.” Her soft voice becomes loud as she leaves the room.

“So, where’s the gifts then, Evangeline? Where is the Christmas tree? Where is your fucking son?” I hear the woman shout.

There’s more screaming and pleading from Evangeline. This time, when the woman returns, she drags Evangeline in by a fistful of her hair to face me.

It’s the first time I’ve ever seen Evangeline scared. Her eyes shut close. Refusing to acknowledge me. I could save her. I hate that I want to, but I know I could lie.

Lie again. Say it was an accident. Another fucking accident. But then I’d be stuck here. Alone. Without Charlie. Stuck with the bad thing. With the pain.

“Did you hurt this child?” the woman asks.

Evangeline keeps her eyes closed as tears roll down her cheek. Powerless. She looks so powerless.

“Joaquin, I’m gonna take the boy. Do what needs to be done. And have no mercy on her. Do it for him.” She points at me, and the large man accompanying her nods. He has long hair pulled into a ponytail and a leather vest covered with patches.

The woman with soft features and kind eyes opens the kennel, grabs my hand, and pulls me up. Was this another one of my mind’s broken pieces playing tricks on me? She holds my hand tightly as we walk down the apartment stairs to the front. I look down to see the fresh pink nail polish.

It’s not a long walk, but it feels like a mile to me. A new feeling of being able to breathe washes over me. Tears flood my eyes as we move down every step and out the apartment complex door. The woman ushers me to a nearby bench, where she lets me cry.

“?Como te llamas?” she asks.

“Nero,” I whisper.

“My name is Vicky. Vicky Torres. That’s my brother Joaquin up there.” She pulls out a long cigarette and brings it to her mouth.

“Are you going to hurt her?” my voice trembles.

I hated Evangeline, but she was the only thing I knew.

“Did she hurt you?” Vicky arches her brows, looking at my swollen eye.

“Yes.”

“Then yes. I’m gonna make sure she pays for everything she’s ever done to you.” She removes the rosary around her neck and places it on me.

That day was the first day of my new life. Vicky had pulled me out of hell and given me a home free of neglect and torture. She and her boyfriend Masa took me in and introduced me to the Motorcycle club.

My loyalty to the club was the only reason I was here. Sitting in the booth of a rundown diner on the outskirts of Houston. I tuck the rosary back into my shirt and listen to Benji ramble on.

“We had it all wrong. The department had me searching everywhere for a Don. But they fucked up big time. The leader is a woman.” Benji says with a thick New York accent.

He stops for some dramatic effect, but I’m not surprised. Growing up with Vicky taught me there were plenty of women running shit in Criminal Organizations.

“They call her La Civetta .” He continues.

“Who is she?”

“She’s the eldest daughter of Don Rosario Messina. We thought the Messina Crime family died out when Rosario was killed. The Messina family used to be notorious here in the south. The daughter, La Civetta, was married to Lucio Biondini.”

Benji slides over a picture of a man in a suit surrounded by a woman and her three small children. Something about the woman was oddly familiar.

“Lucio was killed by the cartel, creating some bad blood between the Italians and Mexicans. She was forced to flee to Chicago with her three sons. But she’s been waiting to return. That’s why they call her La Civetta, it means owl in Italian. Now that her sons are older, she wants to reclaim her city.” He hands me another photo, and I recognize one of the men as the owner of the restaurant Verdis.

“This is one of the sons?” I ask, staring at the picture.

He’s around my age, has a muscular build, slick black hair, and is dressed in a designer green suit.

“That’s the youngest son, Cesidio. The middle one here is Massimo. He’s running against Preston Cuevas for the councilman position. The oldest one is Savino. He’s the one who will take his mother’s place at the head of the Mafia.”

“Where do the Russians and Cassiel fit into all this?” I ask, using Leatherface’s government name.

“When the cartel forced La Civetta out of Texas, the Russians took advantage and seized most of the Italian’s operations for themselves. Something they aren’t willing to give back. I wasn’t sure about Cassiel. Thought maybe it was a fucking coincidence. Then I found this snooping through Cesidio’s office.” He hands me a small piece of paper with a note.

You never came back for me.

I need answers.

Genesis Fernandez.

“What the hell is this?” I look over the note.

“That’s what I wanna know. Were you aware of your president’s involvement with Miss Fernandez? There are things even he can’t hide from Law Enforcement.” Benji questions.

He hands me another paper. Evaluation notes from the Harris County Psychiatric Center. I read over the document.

C omplete Evaluation

by Dr. Timothy Newton

Patient name: Genesis Fernandez

Patient Number: 10000060015953

History: Miss Fernandez is a sixteen-year-old girl who was subjected to emotional trauma at the tender age of fourteen. Her parents, Rosario and Ignacio, state that their biggest concern for their daughter is her fixation on her hallucinations.

I continue scanning the document covering her current symptoms of psychosis, mental distress, crying spells, anxiety, and suicidal ideation- the list goes on. Still, there’s one part that stands out significantly.

“The patient is often tortured by hallucinations of a man with a large scar running down the front of his face. Patient claims this hallucinated figure has been stalking her since she was a child. No evidence can be found about this person existing.” I read aloud.

“Bingo!” Benji exclaims.

I set the paper down and let out a long sigh.

Fucking Cass.

“How does the Biondini family fit into all of this?” Benji’s eyes narrow on me, a questioning look sprawled over his face.

“Whada ya mean? Lucio Biondini was the one who kidnapped Genesis Fernandez! He kidnapped her and Ariella Reyes!” He ridicules me like this kidnapping was common fucking knowledge.

He slaps down the news article about the kidnapping, and I scan over the information. Ariella told me about this but never gave any more details on the matter.

Connecting the dots was becoming more difficult the more players I realize are involved. Everything was coming full circle, though. What were Leatherface’s motives?

“Nero, I am working as hard as you to tie this all together,” Benji says, answering the confusion on my face. “The three brothers cut ties with their father after the kidnapping incident. Apparently, Lucio Biondini was abusive to their mother and resented them. There’s a missing link between the Biondini Family and Genesis Fernandez, something I’m still looking for.”

“We won’t know shit until Cassiel wakes up.” I theorize.

There’s an anxious feeling rising inside me. Worry over how Ariella would play into the larger equation of things. How would this information affect her safety? Why would Genesis write a letter to the son of their capturer?

More than ever, I need Cassiel to wake up. I need to know what kind of bullshit he had gotten us all into.