End It All (Vitale Brothers #5)

Chapter 5

I ran like my heels were on fire. The more I moved, the more the air constricted my lungs until I felt like I couldn't breathe anymore. Soon, I slammed my back against a brick wall and shut my eyes, trying to stabilize my breathing. Shit, I was so screwed. I had no phone, nowhere to go, nothing. The only thing I did have was a green leather wallet covered in stickers of all things with the word Quincy written on the back in sharpie.

"How fucking old is he?"

Meeting him it felt like he was a mix of both a teenager and a dangerous as hell man. I still remembered the way he twirled that knife as if it was nothing and threatened to cut off my dick. Yeah, no, thanks. That man wasn't the least bit stable.

I kept glancing over my shoulder as I started to wander around the city with my duffel. He'd been through my stuff, I could tell because he'd broken the hair that I'd wound around the zipper. Living with Quincy wasn't an option. I needed a way out.

My stomach growled as I stood outside of a diner, the smell of eggs and bacon making my mouth water. Shit. I hadn't eaten since the morning before the bank robbery. I had been too nervous to keep anything down. Now, my stomach was threatening to eat itself. I wrapped an arm around my midsection and stared into the restaurant before I looked into Quincy's wallet. He had a few credit cards, a couple of debit cards, and two hundred dollars in cash. There wasn't nearly enough to even get a dirty motel room for more than a night. On the inside, though, was a present, and my eyes lit up.

I rounded the back of the building, tossed my duffel on the ground, and sat on top of it. Reaching into my pocket, I snagged the lighter. My father's lighter. I stared at it for a long time, turning it this way and that. I still couldn't believe it belonged to the man that had abandoned us. Had abandoned me. And now I was supposed to just go and ask him for help? The thought of it made me sick to my stomach.

Knock it off. I can't sit here and sulk.

I stuck the joint in my mouth and lit it up. As the sweetness of the weed rested on my tongue, I leaned back against the dirty bricks and held my breath. Seconds ticked by until the smoke billowed out, and I coughed so hard, my lungs and chest burned. It was worth it. Just taking the edge off was enough to make me feel a hell of a lot better about my situation. Instead of worrying about what was going on, I just melted. For a moment, the world was quiet and calm.

"Hey! You can't smoke that shit back here."

I snapped my eyes open and stared up at the greasy man in a dirty apron carrying two bags of trash. He scowled at me, a cigarette dangling from the side of his mouth. The fact he didn't see the irony in smoking too made me laugh.

"You think I'm joking? Get your ass out of here, you goddamn drug addict!"

I scoffed. "It's just a little weed. And isn’t it legal here now?”

"Do I look like I give a damn? This is private property. Fuck off!”

I held up my hands. "Fine, fine. Calm down." I stared him in the eyes as I took one long, slow drag and held it in. I put out the joint, stored it, and flipped the man off as I grabbed my stuff and started to walk off. Finally, I released it and groaned. "Goddamn, that's good shit. At least he has great taste in weed."

"Idiot," the man grumbled.

I ignored him. Whatever he thought about me wasn't my problem. Faking who I was didn’t exist in my world, unless I needed something or it could get me out of trouble. Otherwise, it was too fucking exhausting.

The more I walked, the more my stomach started to turn. I needed something to eat or I was going to end up on my ass. A thought stopped me in my tracks.

"Excuse me," I asked a man standing nearby, his phone pressed against his ear. "Do you know where Silver Dreams is?"

He wrinkled his nose. "No."

"Looks like you do," I challenged. "Is it really that bad to go to therapy these days?"

The man's expression went from angry to bewildered in seconds. Finally, he leaned forward, his eyes darting around. "Is that what you think it is?"

"That's what this guy said it was," I answered slowly, suddenly lost. "What is it?"

"Here." He nodded down the street. "Go to the end of that second block, make a right, and then a left on the next street. You'll find it. It is pretty good therapy."

I stared at the man in confusion until he shooed me off. Shaking my head, I started walking. This city is so fucking strange. I needed to get a phone, some headphones, a place to live, some more clothes. The laundry list of my needs was growing. At least the haze I was in kept some of the stress away.

When I reached the building, it was tucked away behind others. I glanced up and froze. Silver Dreams. The neon was a dead giveaway that this wasn't some therapist's office. I groaned.

"Really? A fucking strip club? How basic are you?"

I stepped inside and looked around. What I expected was half-dressed women, thumpy music, and noise. Instead it was quiet, soft piano music playing as I wandered around the entryway. Before I could get too far, an older woman walked up to me, a smile on her face.

"Welcome to Silver Dreams." She eyed me from top to bottom and plastered on a fake smile. "What can I do for you?"

That old irritation at being poor resurfaced with a vengeance. One glance was all it took for her to decide that I wasn't good enough for this place. My nerves were already shredded, I didn't need more of this shit.

"Never mind," I muttered.

She reached out and took my arm. "No need to be so upset. Why are you here?" she asked.

I stared at her and finally shrugged. "I don't know. Quincy told me it was a place to get therapy. But it looks more like a strip club..." I trailed off.

The woman chuckled. "You're not far off. Come with me."

I stayed where I was. "I'm not sure I want to go see naked women dancing. I'm starving."

"You think I can't hear that stomach from here?" she asked.

I wrapped an arm around my stomach. Damn, is it really that loud? So embarrassing.

"Sorry," I muttered.

She waved a hand. "Don't be! You can call me Grand Myah," she said as she led me back toward a double set of doors. "So, you know Quincy Adachi? What's your name?"

"Blake," I muttered.

Her smile grew. "Blake. Are you good friends with Quincy?"

I frowned. "Not really, the guy's an asshole. But he knows my father."

"And your father is?"

"You're asking a lot of questions," I said wearily.

She stopped and turned to face me. "Of course. Wouldn't you be careful about who you allow in your home? Besides, you hungry or not?"

As soon as she said it, my stomach growled all over again and I laid a hand over it. Okay, I was really starving. Smoking probably wasn't the smartest thing I could have done when I was already running on empty.

"Um, Cesare. Cesare Vitale," I answered.

The woman's eyes filled with recognition before she quickly played it cool again. "Ah, that makes sense. You favor him."

I sneered. "I'm sure I look nothing like that man."

Grand Myah patted my hand. "Sure, dear. This way." She led me through the double doors and closed them behind her again. I heard the automatic lock engage before I was taken further inside. There was music playing and the smell of cigarette smoke and food greeted me. We ended up at a bar and she touched a seat. "You're twenty-one, right?"

"Yeah. Twenty-two," I said.

"Good enough. Darcy, get him something to eat, something really good, okay?" She glanced at me. "If you want to take one of our girls or guys upstairs, you're free to."

I frowned. "I don't have any money."

Grand Myah waved a hand. "Some things are more important than money. Your name carries a lot of weight. Any Vitale can come and go here freely. Do you need a room? You can stay for a while."

I gawked at her. "Really?"

"Darcy, get him a room too. Something nice with an en suite bathroom." She winked at me. "Welcome to Silver Dreams, Mr. Vitale."

I stared at her. "Thanks."

As she walked off, a pretty blond rounded the counter. She smiled at me and held out a hand. "This way, Mr. Vitale."

Still dumbstruck and high off my ass, I took her hand. As we walked, people smiled and flirted. I felt like I was in a completely new world. She led me to a door and produced a keycard out of the pocket of her tight shorts.

"This will be your room. You can stay as long as you'd like. Would you like us to wash anything?"

"Um." I shook my head. "No. Wait," I said as the thought came to me. "I could use a phone. A burner."

"No problem, I'll have someone get one for you and have it delivered in the hour. You can eat at the bar or in your room, which would you like?" she asked as she swiped us in.

My jaw dropped as we stepped inside. The warmth that surrounded me from central heating made me realize just how freezing I had been since I left Quincy's. A big screen TV took up one wall, a huge bed was against another, and there was even a couch, table, and chairs. Everything was draped in colorful fabric. It felt like I'd stepped back into one of my mom's fantasy romance novels. I put my bag on the bed and Darcy hung around.

"Preference for where you eat?” she asked. “Oh, and the bathroom is right through there," she said with a nod of her head. "Feel free to get cleaned up."

I nodded. "Room is fine. Thanks. By the way, do you have any more of this?" I asked as I produced the joint.

Darcy laughed. "I'll take care of you, Mr. Vitale. Anything you want, you can have."

Her suggestive words hung in the air and all I could do was nod again. Darcy excused herself, and I was left alone in the room that felt way too rich for someone like me. I whistled as I looked around.

"Damn. I could get used to this."

My belly was full, the bed was comfortable, and Darcy had brought me a phone all before I slept in for a few hours. I was living the good life. Although, I was arguing with myself currently. I wanted to call my mom and let her know I was okay, but I worried about alerting the cops. What if they've found our secret phone on her end?

Nothing good would come of that.

A knock pulled me out of my daydream. I quickly stuffed the phone into my pocket as if I'd gotten caught and shot up from the bed. My heart raced before I quickly told myself it wasn't the cops. No one knew I was here. I was safe.

I opened the door. "Darcy, I don't need anything... Shit."

Quincy slammed one of his huge hands on the door and shoved it open. I stumbled back, nearly losing my footing. Quincy let himself into my room and shut the door, throwing the lock before he turned to me and cracked his neck left and right.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"I told you about the place, you dumbass," he growled. "It smells like a whorehouse in here. Have you just been doing drugs all day?"

"I'm pretty sure it is a whore house," I muttered. "And yeah, so what? I can smoke all I want. I don't need a parent."

Quincy grabbed the back of my neck and nearly folded me in half. "Where's my wallet, you little shit?"

I grunted. "On the table! Get off me, man."

He marched me over to the table and when he found it where I said it was, he turned me loose. I adjusted my clothes and rubbed the back of my neck as he opened his wallet. The money was gone, but the cards were still there along with the roach of the joint I’d had. He held the latter up and showed it to me.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

I shrugged. "You stressed me out."

Quincy balled up his fist. I flinched back involuntarily, and he released it as quickly as it had formed. He closed his eyes, then opened them and stared at the ceiling, and exhaled long and slow. When he looked at me again, he nodded toward the bed.

"Get your shit. I've already had a crap day, I don't feel like doing this. We're going."

I lingered near the bottom of the bed. “What? No. Grand Myah said I can stay here."

"Do you really want to sleep and hangout in a brothel? Not saying there's anything wrong with it, I've done it, but you ain't me, peaches."

I flipped him off. "I'm sick of your shit."

"And I'm sick of being nice to you. Get. Your. Crap."

The look in his eyes said he was a thousand percent serious. As he stared me down, I saw something dangerous in his eyes. I swallowed hard, taking a step back without even realizing it at first.

"Listen, you can tell Benito I'm fine here."

"Not going to do that," he snapped. "If you don't walk out of here, I'm going to throw you over my shoulder and carry you back to my place. And then I'm going to make sure the rope I tie you down with won't be so easily slipped out of. Got it?"

I shook my head. "You're acting a little crazy."

Quincy's dark eyes somehow grew darker. The light made every inch of his brown skin look richer than before. His short blond hair was slightly curly and close to his head. If I could stand him, he would kind of be hot right now.

I seriously have the worst taste in men.

The only thing I didn’t like was his choice in clothes. The purple and orange outfit this morning was one thing, but he now had on a bright yellow hoodie with green zig-zag designs all over it. Seemed like the nineties had revisited just to puke all over his closet.

He snapped his fingers in front of my face. "Earth to stoner. Will you get moving? You have a meeting tonight."

I blinked out of my daydream. "A meeting? What do you mean?"

"Your father gets back into town soon. We have to meet him at Benito's place."

My stomach dropped and my high immediately disappeared. I had to meet my father, now? The whole point of me coming here was to do just that, but now, faced with the reality? I wanted to run for the hills. I wanted to go home.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Quincy said. "What's the matter with you?"

I stared up at him as if seeing him for the first time and shrugged. "Nothing. Let's go see my dad."

"Are you sure?"

I shrugged again and grabbed my duffel. My heart pounded in my chest as I walked toward the door.

"Blake?"

I glanced over my shoulder. He wasn't calling me baby girl or princess or anything. What was wrong with him?

"Come on, you said we had to go."

"We do, but you look weird. You sure you're good?"

I tried to keep my face passive. "All good."

Quincy searched my face. I met his gaze until I couldn't anymore and glanced off to the side. The thought of meeting my father made me want to turn tail and get the hell out of New York. What was I going to say to him? I didn't even really know who he was until I got here. The whispers were hard to avoid.

The Vitales.

Ever since I'd been at Silver Dreams, when I left my room, I heard them talking about my family. How dangerous they were, how crazy they were, how in control they were. None of this was what I'd expected to hear. My father had always come off as some normal, upstanding guy. Now, he was someone I didn't even recognize. How was I going to feel when I saw his face and didn't recognize that either?

I grabbed the door and let myself out of the room. It wasn't like I had a choice. My best chance was to find him, and then I would hopefully have somewhere to live or some money for a place to crash. I needed to lie as low as possible. Getting a job with my name and social security number would be stupid. I had to do what I had to do.

We filed out into the hallway, and I left my keycard on the bar. Darcy turned around, a smile on her face.

"Aww, leaving already, sweetie?"

"Yeah. Looks like I have to go."

"Well, you come on back whenever you want," she said. "Hey Quincy." She giggled.

"Hey."

I looked from him to her. It wasn't hard to see they knew each other. Personally. Rolling my eyes, I headed for the front door. As soon as I stepped into the entryway, men filled both sides of the room, and another one walked in through the front door. He glanced around before his gaze settled on me.

"Blake, I've been waiting for you."

I swallowed hard. The man I had admired as a child, the one I learned to hate, and the one I now realized everyone else feared, stood right in front of me.

"You have my lighter?"

I dug into my pocket, fished it out, and held it in the palm of my hand.

He looked from my hand up to my face. "Ah, so you are my son after all. You've grown up. Follow me."

I started to follow him with Quincy by my side. When we stepped outside, the cool air stung my skin. My ratty little hoodie wasn't protecting me from shit. My father turned around and froze.

"You can go," he said to Quincy.

"My job is to stay with him. Benito?—"

"Benito is my son. Do you think he has any say over what I do?" he asked. "Get lost. Blake, get in," he said as he nodded toward the backseat of a car that one of his men had opened for me.

“Mr. Vitale, with all due respect, I have a job to do. You can take it up with Benito later.”

Cesare looked him up and down. “I’m not in the mood for this shit tonight. Keep talking and I’ll have your tongue taken out.”

My stomach twisted. The way they looked at each other, it felt as if one of them would snap and kill the other right in front of me. Quincy moved closer to me and opened his mouth.

I swallowed hard and glanced at Quincy. "It’s cool. Later," I muttered.

He stared, finally taking a step back hesitantly. "Be careful," he whispered under his breath. "Trust me."

How could I trust him? How could I trust any of them?