Chapter 16
Gia
I have an ear-to-ear smile while hugging Stacey goodbye in my car. “Thank you so, so much for putting your life on hold, and for being a potential sniper target alongside me, and helping me with the mechanic. I owe you big.”
“Oh you.” She gives me a big fat kiss on the cheek. “I’m just happy this is all over. It was kind of fun playing ‘hide from the Russian murderer’ with you, but let’s not do it again so soon, kay?”
I chuckle. “I’ll do my best.”
“You owe me, huh? Get me into the next Valentino event at Bangos and we’ll call it even. God… I need some dangerous mafia dick in my life.”
“Done.” I put a hand to my heart.
“Speaking of… are you still going to shy away from talking about Mr. DeMatteo? C’mon, give me something. Is he this big?” She holds out her hands about the length of a large pickle.
Heat fills my cheeks.
“No? Bigger?” She creates more distance. “What!” She reaches the length of a good-sized banana, and I bite my lip.
“Bye, girl.” I nudge her off the seat, forcing her to open the door and get the heck out of my car before I die from embarrassment. “And Stacey. Not a word to anybody, okay? I’m in a bad situation right now.”
“I know.” She squeezes my arm, reassuring me. “Stay strong, lovey.”
Now that I’m alone, my chest feels exponentially lighter. The text I received from Castor this morning is everything. I’ve looked it over a thousand times at this point:
Castor: Hey, kid. Good news. You’re safe to return to Queens. Come to 8-18 Previs Street in Jackson Heights by 2 p.m. I have a present for you.
It was a long ride to get here. First a five-hour drive from Vermont – where we spent the last few days in a quaint Airbnb – now I’m headed to the address from Stacey’s apartment in Howard Beach.
I arrive at a store called ‘West End Gold Buyers.’ Must be one of Castor’s. The sign is run down, the letters appear like they were painted yellow about two decades ago, and the front door is caged steel with a buzzer. Shady stuff.
As I approach, the door unlocks before I can press any buttons, so I enter. An elderly man in a black polo brushes one of the many intricate pieces of gold jewelry in the glass case.
“Hello, Ms.”
“Hello,” I say, looking around at the various knickknacks plated in gold. Guitars, wind chimes, all sorts of oddities worth looking at surround me.
“Mr. Bullion is waiting for you. Straight down the hall, door to the left. He’s down the stairs.”
“Okay, thank you.” I head where I’m told, touching the plaques on the wall for outstanding craftsmanship from GoldStyle magazine. I didn’t know Castor’s business was so famous. Even though I’m thrilled he took care of whatever issue he had outstanding, I’m still worried as hell about what the future holds.
My heart leaps back and forth whenever I think about it. I swore off mobster life because of my stupid brother. Now look at me… diving headfirst right back into it. Did I learn nothing from the past?
Seriously, though, how could I resist? It’s Castor DeMatteo. A man who refuses to goddamn peak.
Call me what you want, but he’s as rare as lightning in a bottle. Ever since that night he stayed over, he showed me what a complete household looks like. After a long day of work, and a session of hot steam, he’s there, holding me in his big arms just enjoying my company like I’m the only girl in the world who matters.
But he’s dangerous, a stray thought enters. And he put you in harm’s way.
The metal staircase clangs after every step, making me feel like a two-ton ogre descending the stairs. There’s another steel door at the bottom, with a fogged up glass square at eyelevel. Am I going into a sauna?
I consider knocking, but he’s expecting me, so why not surprise him with my face. Turning the knob is tough. The door is so goddamn heavy.
Rrrr.
It creaks as I heave it open, leaving me to wave away steam as I enter.
When my vision clears, I’m shocked, turned on, and horrified all at once.
Castor is on one side, shirtless except for two heavy-duty gloves, holding a set of prongs near a bubbling molten bath. And on my other… the thin Russian who assaulted me is tied to a chair. He grunts and shifts.
“Bitch. There you are,” he growls. “Yuri is going to have both of your heads, I promise.”
“Gia,” Castor purrs. His voice is serene despite the harsh scene. “Come give me a kiss. I missed you.”
A brief weakening sensation blankets my chest, but the scene sucks it all away in a flash. Is this man being tortured? Even though he deserves it for trying to take advantage of me and threatening my life, I don’t want to see it.
“Don’t be afraid. He can’t hurt you anymore.”
Ssss!
Castor dips whatever his prongs are holding into the bath, causing more steam to waft around the room.
I tentatively move toward Castor, peering over my shoulder and covering my ears whenever the captive screams curses in Russian. He leans over to give me his sweaty cheek. His musk is intoxicating. I want to wrap my arms around him and just marinate in it for the rest of the day.
“It’s him, isn’t it?” Castor asks.
“I don’t know how you found him so fast, but yes, that’s definitely him.”
“Well, your artwork was impeccable. The Maserati tip helped too.” Castor grins, eyeing me, then switches his gaze to him. “Okay, back up. Let me get to work.”
My heart sinks. “What are you going to do?”
An angered smile flashes across his face. His muscles are enormous, flexed as he holds the prongs effortlessly. “Ever since the night I saw you at Bangos, I felt something I haven’t felt… maybe ever. A connection of fire and history I never thought possible. Gia, now that I’ve spent some time with you, and away from you, I know it’s real. And I’m not letting go of it.”
My mouth remains agape as I watch him lift a small cylinder with his prongs – the top of which glows hotly orange.
“This man threatened what I care about. You. An innocent bystander in this dark world I thrive in.” He marches toward the Russian – his boots thumping like a soldier’s, hot liquid hissing every step he takes. “I hope you had your fun, little pawn.” He smirks at the Russian, purposely tipping out a drip of the molten gold that sizzles on the concrete floor.
The Russian lifts his feet to avoid the splash, gritting his teeth.
“Castor, babe. No.” I shake my head. “Please.”
“You have to know what happens if someone threatens what’s mine. It’s a declaration, kid. I’m going to protect you no matter what.” He turns slightly so one crystal blue eye locks with mine.
A warm shiver crawls down my spine. I didn’t know such a feeling was possible – to feel secure and horrified all at once.
“If you lay another finger on me, you can kiss your Russian connection goodbye,” my attacker threatens.
It doesn’t slow Castor one bit. His steps are unhurried and harrowing. I didn’t know he had this in him. Whenever I laid eyes on him growing up, up to this very day, he had a commanding presence about him. But I had no idea it was backed by such ruthlessness.
“You, Yuri, your crew, they all made a big mistake dragging in an outsider.” Castor tips out another drip of liquid, this time inches from the Russian’s sneaker. “Where’s your code of honor?” He tips some of the gold onto his leg, and the man shouts a nearly voiceless scream. “How dare you touch what’s mine.” Another drop spills on his other leg, making the Russian convulse in his ties, hands balled into fists stretching against the rope.
“Fuck you, Bullion. Italian scum!” His desperate breaths are shallow. “Ahh!” The gold solidifies over his skin. “Crawl back to your gaudy houses and little scams. You will never—Ah!”
Castor pours a bit more on his thigh, and I can’t bear to watch any longer. I run for the door, and just as I reach for the knob, I hear him – Castor – and it draws my eye before I can get the door open.
“Gia Castellano is off-limits. I hope Yuri hears that through your cries.” Castor holds the cylinder over the man’s face.
The Russian’s tune changes completely. He shakes his head, begging for mercy. My brain screams for me to look away, but for some reason, I can’t.
“Castor!” I yell, tears flowing down my face. “Castor!”
Hsss!
He pours the molten liquid over the bound man, and the scream that tears out of him becomes muffled with a mouthful of fatally hot liquid. His body goes limp almost immediately, and what’s left is a steaming pile of flesh mixed with gold.
My God.
I swing open the door and double over near the first step. “He’s just like Marco…” I cry into my hands. “Why did I do this to myself?” My vision is a blurry tornado. All the happiness I felt about feeling safe… that it was over… it all evaporated. What did I think would happen? How else would it be ‘safe’ unless this man is gone from my life?
It just hurts to see how the sausage is made, I suppose.
It hurts bad.
I’m reminded of all the times I was a bit too close to one of Marco’s dealings. Pummeling the waiter to a bloody pulp in a family restaurant was just the icing on the cake. I remember screaming at him as he held the arm of someone who messed with his drugs. He snapped it like a twig in the wrong direction. My body still caves into itself just thinking about it.
Now here I am, in the basement of a gold exchange store, with someone wielding much more power.
Fuck.
I hold my legs close to my chest and stay curled where I am.
Hearing items clunking to the concrete floor makes me wonder what the hell he could possibly be doing next.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
His footsteps come closer. He looks through with softened blue eyes – the ones he brought to my doorstep not long ago – and opens the door.
His gloves are off, whole body glistening with sweat. His blonde hair looks almost brown when he’s all lathered up. Or maybe my shaking eyes are playing tricks on me.
I cower a little closer to the wall as he crouches to be eye-to-eye.
“Why?” I say. And I don’t really know what I’m asking.
Why did he have to be so cruel?
Why did he invite me to see?
Why is this happening?
I guess I’m asking all of those questions.
He holds out his hand, expecting me to take it. “This is the price of being with me, Gia. Sometimes… things are going to get ugly. But I want you to know, I’ll always protect you.”
I glance back and forth between his hand and his eyes. I’m not sure I can do this.
“If you can’t handle it, I’d rather get it out of the way now, before my heart is putty in your hands. But know, I want this to work. I want you by my side. And no one is going to be able to stop that, except you.”