Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
S leep evades me like a shadow at dawn, slipping away just as I reach for it. Exhaustion drowns me because all I’ve done for the past two nights is toss and turn, reeling over my thoughts that are torn between Milo, the Russians, and my goddamn missing shipment.
I don’t know what game Milo is playing, but he’s officially on my radar. If I wasn’t wary before, I certainly am now—him turning up the same night my shipment went missing, then at Roman’s fight club; is no coincidence. The fact he could go within two miles of my sister is testament to how much he’s testing me right now, because if there’s one thing completely off limits, it’s her. I’d protect her with everything I have, not just because she’s my sister, but because I respect her decision to stay away from this life.
I pad my way through to the kitchen, flicking on the coffee machine and tapping my foot to System of a Down’s ‘Psycho’ that blasts through the surround speakers as I wait. My thoughts drift to Milo—because they always fucking do—wondering why the hell he was at the docks that night. He said he had his reasons, but without telling me what they are, I’m struggling to understand. And why the hell was he at the fight night? How the fuck did he know about it?
Okay, my last question seems kind of redundant since Haldon all but shouted from the rooftops about Roman’s new business venture, drumming up enough excitement to feed his ego for years.
Running a hand through my hair, I can’t come up with any reasonable explanation for Milo’s actions. Not that he needs one. He’s Bratva after all, they do whatever the fuck they want, regardless of the consequences.
Just as I’m putting my thoughts of Milo to rest for the day, my phone lights up with an incoming call. Dad’s name flashes on the screen and I frown before picking up. “Everything okay?” It’s unusual for him to be calling me, especially on a Sunday. If he ever needs me for anything, he sends Noah, or a text message.
“We need to talk,” he growls, the seriousness of the words sending a chill down my spine. I’ve only heard that tone a handful of times, and it’s only been when shit has gotten crazy, or me and Lani were in trouble.
Swallowing my nerves—because even at twenty-two, my dad still scares the shit out of me sometimes—I pour out a cup of coffee, stirring in two heaped spoonfuls of sugar.
“It’s about Alanis.”
My blood freezes in my veins, the spoon in my hand clattering against the surface. It feels like a noose has tightened around my neck, holding me suspended at the mere mention of my sister’s name. I grip my mug so tightly I swear I hear the porcelain creak under the tension. If Milo fucking laid his hands on her, he’s a dead man. Great fuck, or not, I told him specifically to stay away from her.
“What’s happened?” I ask cautiously. I don’t even want to acknowledge where my mind takes me. Thoughts of Milo flood my mind, and I’m preparing myself for the war to come when my dad speaks up.
“She’s fine,” he sighs.
“Okay?” I relax slightly, finally managing to take a sip of my coffee.
“For now.”
I don’t like where this is heading, but knowing Lani’s okay is relieving, at least. I feel a little less tense about this conversation, despite my dad’s tone, because nothing good has ever come from these conversations when Dad is angry, and he seems super pissed.
“Did you know she was joining the police?”
My coffee shoots down my throat, clogging my lungs. I choke in disbelief, clapping my chest with my fist. There’s no way I heard that right . That would be a betrayal to the family, the ultimate betrayal, and I’m pretty sure we don’t need to voice that to her. Nobody would dream of dishonoring the family like that. Sure, Mom was a lawyer, Aunt Lexie was a cop, but this is Alanis. Alanis fucking Bonanno . It can’t happen.
“That can’t be true, Dad,” I respond, swiping a dish rag from the sink and wiping down the pristine marble countertop. I hate mess and I hate stains. “Where did you get this information from?”
I’m hoping he says some idiot on our payroll, just so I can find the fucker and put a bullet between their eyes for sending my dad on the verge of a fucking heart attack. Whoever gave him that information should have known what would happen if they were caught in a lie. Then again, my dad never believes something unless there’s concrete evidence, and the niggling feeling in the back of my mind is telling me he’s got just that.
“I still have contacts, Vee. The same ones you do.”
“No.” I shake my head, “Lani wouldn’t do this.” Except now that I’m saying it out loud, it sounds exactly like the type of thing she would do just to piss our dad off.
“This is your sister we’re talking about, Alvaro. She does whatever the fuck she wants, regardless of what’s right for this family. I forgave her for changing her name, but this, this is the final straw.”
I wince. While I understand what my dad is saying, his harsh words are uncalled for. Lani has always looked out for herself, and with good reason. We’re in a ruthless world where our choices can be taken away from us with the snap of a finger, or the pull of a trigger. My sister has only ever created more opportunities for herself to be as free from this life as possible.
But the police?
“Alvaro,” Dad seethes. “Did. You. Know?”
“What?” I cough. “No! I had no idea.” But should I have? Come to think of it, this would explain her reaction the other week. She was so volatile about us making fun of possible career choices, that maybe I should have recognized why she was acting the way she was. After five years of her constantly behaving like someone pissed in her cereal, I just thought she was being argumentative for the sake of it.
Has she really been planning this all along? It doesn’t make sense. Lani always has a reason for doing what she does, but joining the police… I can’t get my head around it. And while dad spits out his anger towards my sister, I’m reeling over the truth of it all. Either this is some fucked up prank, or Alanis has lost her fucking mind. Doesn’t matter. I need to get to the bottom of this without flying off the handle like my dad—who is still barreling through insults—of which I have no idea who he’s aiming his anger towards.
“Dad!” I interrupt. “Let me handle this.”
“It’s handled,” he snaps back. “She made the decision not to be a Bonanno, and now I’m making the decision for her not to be a part of this family at all.”
“You can’t do that,” I remind him, though from the sound of it, he’s already made his mind up. Still, I’m the leader of this family now. He can’t cut someone out of it without going through me, and he knows it. Plus, this is his goddamn daughter , my fucking sister .
I huff exasperatedly, running a hand over my face. I was hoping for a quiet Sunday, but I’m definitely not getting that today. I need to talk to Lani, and if I’m going to do that, I need to get in contact with Roman. He’ll know what to do, and if anyone can help me, it’s going to be my best friend. “Let me speak to Roman, see what he thinks.”
“Oh!” Dad chuckles incredulously. “He fucking knew!”
“The fuck? No, that—, no!”
The silence that follows is so deafening that I can’t even hear my blood pound in my ears. I’m hot, sweat beading across my temple, and before I realize what I’m doing, I’ve hung up on my dad and am storming down the hallway, heading right to where Roman’s been staying. Swinging the door open, I’m not surprised that he’s nowhere to be seen. If the fucker knew what my sister was doing, it’s no wonder he’s pulled another disappearing act.
Rage amplifies at an astronomical rate, fury pumping fire into my veins as I stare at the empty room. I try to calm myself down, but the thought of the lie burns dangerously hot. Clutching my phone, I dial his number. When I’m met with his voicemail, I’m about two seconds away from exploding.
Too late.
“Fuck!” I slam my fist into the wall, barking out more expletives as I let my anger fuel my actions. Before I know it, I’m tossing his nightstand sideways, the drawers spilling out their contents. Next goes his gym bag, the sound of the material shredding away as I rip into it. I decorate his floor with my wrath. I don’t care about fucking his shit up, because right now, it’s the only thing making me feel better. “Motherfucker!”
In a matter of seconds, Roman’s room is in chaos instead of its usual pristine condition. I slump to the floor, letting my breaths slow down to a controllable rhythm. I never let my anger get to me like this, but something is sitting directly beneath the surface of my control that has caused that tether to snap. I’m seeing red, and more than that, I’m seeing the betrayal.
Betrayal from my sister.
Betrayal from my best friend.
Betrayal from this fucking life.
Running a hand through my hair, I tug at the strands, trying to pull my composure back into place when something catches my eye. I reach forward, tugging the piece of paper that has found itself tucked underneath a discarded drawer.
Heat crawls up my spine, settling in my palms with a hot sweat as I unfold the letter. My eyes scan the words on the paper, struggling to keep up with my own curiosity. I want to ignore the irritation that slithers through me, but it’s written in black and white, the NYPD emblem centred at the top of the page.
Alanis has joined the police, and my best friend knew all along.
* * *
“S hit, I didn’t realize she was so defiant,” Haldon remarks, doing nothing to hide the admiration in his words—which pisses me off more than I am already. “And Roman knew?”
I silently nod, trying to suppress the rising anger at reliving what happened a few days ago.
“And he’s alive?” he questions.
“Hal,” I warn.
He lifts his hands, mockingly surrendering to me. “Hey, I’m just checking we’re not one man down. I don’t want to be covering his part of the city.”
I roll my eyes at his comment. As much as I wanted to pummel the shit out of Roman, he’s still my best friend. I confronted him about the situation with my sister, threw a hard fist into his stupid face, and then when he admitted what he knew, I was over it. My issue shouldn’t be with my best friend—even though he kept Lani’s secret from me—it’s with my sister.
It’s not the fact she’s joining the police that stings, it’s that she didn’t tell me. We’re thick as thieves, we tell each other everything—mostly—and yet she couldn’t come to me about this. I know Roman’s loyalty is stretched thin between the two of us. Since his return to the city, he and my sister have grown closer, which I’m pleased about. Things are finally starting to work out between them, and her moods have definitely lifted. But this level of betrayal is hard to get over.
Dad’s not taking it so well. I’m not sure about Mom, but I’m not really worried about her. She carries a level head most of the time, it’s my father that I need to watch closer. He’s hurt by my sister’s actions and when he’s hurt, he puts a wall up.
“Don’t get me wrong, I’m still pissed at him. But this is on my sister.”
“So, what now? Do we need to do damage control, or…?”
“No,” I sigh. “I just need to get my head around it all. I don’t care that she wants to join the NYPD, I’m just pissed that she didn’t tell me.”
Understanding flows between us. We might be more lenient with respect to Alanis, but that doesn’t detract from the reputation we have to uphold. Our fathers set a precedent and we need to follow that.
“Yeah,” he chuckles. “I’d be a little pissed if Haven decided to pull that shit. But then again, I think our families see things a little differently.”
They sure do.
Needing to change the subject, I open up about my encounter at the docks last week. Obviously, I omit the parts that Haldon doesn’t need to know, like the fact Milo and I have fucked. I don’t need any more of my buttons pushed tonight.
“What’re you saying?” Haldon frowns. “You think Milo could be the mole?”
“I’ve considered it,” I admit. It would explain why he was at the docks the night my shipment went missing and why he’s been acting so weird recently. We don’t actually know who our mole is because Roman’s uncle is dealing with all of that, and we figured the less we know, the safer it is. Clearly, it’s not working out because now they’re fucking with Haldon’s deliveries. “It wouldn’t make sense, though.”
Haldon taps his fingers across his desk. “Nothing makes fucking sense right now, Vee. We need to get to the bottom of this before shit really goes sideways.”
“I agree. Let’s just wait for Roman to get here before we decide our next moves.” The words simmer on my tongue, still slightly pissed at my best friend. I’m pushing that all aside right now for the sake of a united front.
“It could just be a coincidence,” I add, trying to keep Haldon calm. I glance up when the door swings open and Roman marches inside.
Haldon slices his hands through his hair as he rests his elbows on his desk. The guy is so on edge it’s almost making me nervous. I’ve never seen him look so out of place, considering he’s usually the one joking around. But clearly, the Russians have pushed the wrong buttons—when someone attacks his business, it becomes personal to him.
“They’re fucking retaliating,” Haldon grumbles. “Deliveries were due yesterday, and they didn’t come.”
Roman darts his gaze to mine expectantly, and in that one look, I know what he’s saying. Unfortunately, I have nothing to offer, so I shake my head.
“Maybe it’s a misunderstanding,” he suggests. He’s grasping at straws, trying to calm our best friend down before he goes on a rampage and starts a revenge campaign.
“I won’t fucking stand for this!” Haldon bellows, slamming his fist down on his desk. His whiskey tumbler flips up, rolling towards the edge, about to plummet to its demise when Roman catches it.
Since the Russians are still waiting on an answer from us about the docks, I can only assume this is their way of pushing our boundaries. They want to force us into giving them what they want, and it could very well be working. But until we get confirmation that our mole is in place, we’re not giving them an answer.
“We’ll smooth it over,” Roman tells him confidently.
“We need to,” Haldon grumbles. “Otherwise, I’ll need to pay off my suppliers again.”
Grabbing a bottle of whiskey, Roman pours a heavy measure into the glass he’s clutching. He offers me one but I shake my head. I need to keep it clear to decide what our next move is.
Ambling towards the nearest couch, I take a seat.
“Milo is our best bet,” Roman suggests, glancing my way. “We’ll speak to him, and he can relay our message without causing too much mess.”
My body tenses at the mention of his name. The way it rolls off of Roman’s tongue has me all kinds of fucked up. Firstly, I hate the way he says it so casually, and secondly, something oddly possessive plays with my self control.
In an attempt to distract myself, I kick my feet up onto the coffee table, linking my hands behind my head. “Oh yeah,” I huff. “And who’s going to do that?”
I already know the answer as I lift a brow in my best friend’s direction, hating the smirk he sends me.
I know that Milo is our best chance at getting to the bottom of this situation, but just being in the same vicinity as him is enough to get my blood boiling. I can’t exactly walk up to him, bend him over, and demand he stops playing fucking games. Or can I?
“No,” I growl, internally shaking that image from my head. “I’m not fucking doing it!”
“Don’t pretend that your dick isn’t hard for the guy,” Roman teases, pouring his own drink into a tumbler.
I narrow my eyes on him, lips pursed in anger. “Fuck you,” I spit.
“Nah, I prefer your sister.”
The room drops into silence, an irritating buzz filling my ears. We might have made up after fighting it out in the ring, but I’m still pissed about the lies, the betrayal. I couldn’t give a fuck about the NYPD at this point. About ninety percent of the city is under our payroll in some way or another, adding Lani to that roster doesn’t faze me in the slightest. It’s the lie.
Taking a measured sip from the glass, he winks over the edge of it, forcing an angry rumble of disapproval to escape my throat. “You’re a prick,” I mutter. “I see why Alanis hates you so much.”
Rolling his eyes, he finishes off his drink before placing it back on the cart. “So, are you gonna talk to him?” he asks, turning to face me with a speculative look. “Or do I need to find someone else to suck his dick?”
Fuck this noise. They don’t even know the half of the shit going on right now, and they’re pissing me off. I should know better than to react to them. Growing up together has made us too comfortable, too easy to manipulate, and I know that’s exactly what they’re doing to me.
Pushing up off the couch, I bite down on the insults I want to send their way and head towards the door, knowing that they’re smirking behind my back. Fuckers.
“You fucking owe me,” I throw over my shoulder before slamming the door behind me. I storm down the stairs of The Ravenite, my fists clenched so tightly that my nails dig into the flesh of my palms, and all I can think about is how fucked I really am.