Chapter Twenty-One
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Saff
I knew I’d fucked up five feet inside the door of the club.
I heard the shuffle of feet on the floor just a second before two arms grabbed me. One closed over my mouth. The other clamped hard around my midsection, crushing hard enough to steal my breath as he lifted me up off my feet.
I was adept at fighting men who were larger than me. Since just about every man was bigger than me.
But this body behind me was a tank.
He was easily twice my width, with an arm that was about as big as one of my thighs.
With my arms pinned against my body, I couldn’t use the damn knife that was cutting into my palm to defend myself.
I tried flailing my legs, kicking in the air, trying to throw him off balance.
But it was like trying to move a brick wall.
“Who do we have here?” he asked in my ear as he walked inward, away from the door.
It seemed to take no effort at all for him to carry me along with him.
My gaze scanned around the room, noting all the tools that Gav and his crew had left around: hammers, mallets, screwdrivers. All great weapons if I could just break away and get to them.
I was held just a little too low to be able to use my head to whack his nose or chin. I couldn’t get my leg up high enough to kick him in the balls.
That left me with one weapon I could utilize.
I squirmed and wiggled until I got just low enough to lean down and sink my teeth into the guy’s arm.
“Fuck!” he roared, dropping me suddenly.
I slammed down on my knees, pain ricocheting up my thighs and hips. But there was no time to let myself feel it.
I scrambled up, my eye on one of the hammers.
I had my knife tucked in my palm, but when it came to fighting off a much bigger target, blunt was going to trump sharp every time. Especially when it was just a tiny little knife. I was more likely to break off the blade in this meaty guy’s arm than actually be useful.
I was smaller, scrappy, and quick.
But each two of my steps was only one of his.
He grabbed a handful of my hair, yanking back so hard that I saw white.
“Who are you?” he asked, dragging me backward by my hair.
“Fuck you.”
“How do you know Soren?”
Soren .
Did this guy know Soren?
If so, how?
What was my move here?
Did I lie?
Stall?
But stall for what? No one was coming.
If what he wanted was information, at least I could use that to try to catch him off-guard enough to get free again, to get to a weapon, or even just get away.
I was in my neighborhood.
Once I got on the street, I could get away. Or find someone belonging to one of the crew to help me.
“How do you know Soren?” the man snapped again, yanking my hair harder.
I exhaled hard, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing me cry out in pain.
“I’m working with him.”
“Working with him how?” he asked, loosening his hold on my hair.
He wanted the information more than he wanted to hurt me.
I could work with that.
“This is my place.”
“Don’t lie to me,” he roared. “This is Soren’s club.”
“It’s our club.”
There was a pause then before he tugged my hair, forcing me to turn to face him.
“You’re his partner?”
“Silent. Yes.”
“Hmm,” he said, watching me with unnervingly keen hazel eyes.
Then, without giving me a single clue what he was going to do, he cocked back and punched me in the face.
I felt consciousness wobble as the copper taste slid into my mouth from my nose.
By the time I fought back the urge to pass out, the man had already dragged me over toward the tools, yanked my arms behind my back, and wrapped my wrists in duct tape.
Great.
That was just great.
My heartbeat hammered in my chest as the man slapped tape over my mouth, then grabbed my arm and dragged me across the club and onto the stage.
Only then did he reach for his phone.
And I got to hear the one-sided conversation with this lunatic. And Soren.
Soren, who he was clearly familiar with.
Soren, who had just as clearly been keeping just as many secrets from me as I’d been from him.
I wish I’d found a way to get a warning to him before the man hung up. To tell him to get in touch with Bastian. To urge him not to come down here himself.
While we waited, the man ranted and raved, dragging me around with him as he paced the stage, occasionally dropping random threats about what he was going to do to me if Soren didn’t show up in time.
I didn’t know this guy, but everything about him screamed that he was some sort of criminal.
What did that say about Soren? A man that I’d been so sure was morally white, who walked on the right side of the law, who didn’t keep such giant secrets from me?
Was it hypocritical of me to be upset with him for doing to me what I was also doing to him? Sure.
I guess I just… didn’t want to believe in any darkness in Soren. The man who’d shown me nothing but goodness.
“Get back here,” the man snarled, fingers digging into my arm so hard I couldn’t help but wince.
But it was right then that the door opened.
Relief and worry muddled into a heady cocktail in me as he looked at the man. And I watched him.
If I hadn’t been looking so closely, I never would have seen it.
A flash of metal in the waistband of his pants.
A gun.
Soren had a gun.
That was a thought I never thought would cross my mind.
But he did.
Which meant that if I could just get to it, this would all be over.
I yanked against the duct tape, creating just enough space for me to turn the knife in my palm and start to saw at the tape with it, the blade cutting my skin just as much as it was slicing my binds.
But there was no time for pain, for weakness.
The conversation between Soren and Alen was escalating—old history and new betrayals tangling into a noose big enough to hang them both with.
The next part moved too quickly to process anything.
The tape broke.
I stabbed Alen’s hand.
Then I flew off the stage, grabbed the gun.
Then Renzo was there.
And Bass and Serano.
Then, like some insane plot twist, Elian’s cousin— Teresa .
“Bass, Serano, take our friend here and shove him in the office,” Renzo said, making the two men rush up toward Alen, grabbing him, and dragging his bulky frame down the steps and into the hallway. “Alright. We’ll deal with that later. You good?” he asked, gaze moving over my face.
But Soren was already moving toward me, grabbing my chin, and angling my face up. “Is it broken?” he asked, meaning my nose.
“No.”
“You sure?”
“He’s got a mean punch but bad aim,” I told Soren as Renzo approached. “He mostly hit my cheek.”
“Yo,” Renzo said, waving his gun between the two of us. “What the fuck is this?”
Not knowing that Renzo would never shoot me, Soren stepped between us, blocking me from the crazy man with the gun.
“Renz, I can explain,” I said, moving to stand beside Soren.
“I knew you were being shady,” Teresa said, heels clicking as she moved forward. “I just knew it. Granted, I didn’t see this coming. But I’m eating up my ‘I told you so’ moment here.”
“T, I think you got some explaining to do too,” Soren said.
The guy looked like his head was spinning.
“What? You think I’m only a wife, mother, and secretary? I got layers. Connections. And one of those connections is my cousin through marriage Elian. Who happens to be a capo in the Lombardi crime family. When you flew outta the office like your ass was on fire, I got a bad feeling. I made a call just in case…”
“And Elian called Bass, who called me, so here we are,” Renzo said, finally putting his gun away.
“Lombardi crime family,” Soren repeated, looking from Teresa to Renzo, then—finally—me. “Lombardi crime family ?” he repeated.
“I can explain,” I said, my heart feeling like it was crushing in my chest.
Soren exhaled hard. “You’re trying to wash your money through the club.”
Well, shit.
I guess I didn’t have to explain.
“For fuck’s sake,” Renzo said, sighing as he tipped his head back to look at the ceiling.
“How…” I started.
“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Soren said, sucking in a deep breath, “but this isn’t my first rodeo with money laundering.”
“Wait, what?”
“Guessing the name Alen Hakobyan doesn’t ring a bell to you,” Renzo piped in.
“Should it?”
“He’s more of Primo’s problem than ours.”
“Primo Esposito?” I asked, brows scrunched.
But it all fell into place, little pieces I hadn’t realized I’d been collecting for years.
Soren telling me about kicking around The Bronx when he was younger.
Soren’s “friend” who gave him a leg-up in life when he’d been struggling.
Alen being Primo’s problem.
Primo being the mob boss of The Bronx.
“Alen was the friend who gave you the money to start your business,” I said, watching Soren.
“Yes,” he said, shoulders dropping like a huge weight had been lifted. Like he’d wanted someone to know that secret after years of keeping it to himself.
“And he’s been forcing you to let him wash his money through your clubs ever since.”
“Yes.”
“What is Alen into?” I asked, looking between both Soren and Renzo.
“It was heroin,” Soren supplied.
“Until Primo started to lean on him,” Renzo added. “Then he turned to Tranq.”
“Tranq,” I repeated, thinking of the scores of people passing out standing up or covered in lesions on the Philly streets from the drug that was fentanyl laced with horse tranquilizers. That was the last thing we needed taking off in any of the boroughs.
“It’s what he got locked up for,” Soren said.
“And you thought you were finally free,” I said.
“Yeah.”
And here I was, trying to run a laundering con right under his nose.
“What’s he got on you?” Renzo asked.
“Got on me?”
“You got anything on paper that says he’s an investor? Any texts or voicemails he can use against you? Any blackmail material he got on you?”
“No. We always talk in person. And he’s definitely not on any official paperwork.”
“Why you worried about him then?” Renzo asked.
“Because he could… go public with everything he’s said. He could ruin my reputation.”
Renzo nodded. “What are your books like? They clean? Will they stand up to an audit by the government?”
“Yes.”
“Then the fuck you care what that idiot says? He’s just some power-hungry drug dealer who wants to fuck you over.”
“I don’t know if it’s that easy,” Soren said.
“Sure it is. And it’s about to be a lot easier,” Renzo said, shrugging. “I’m gonna have Soren toss that asshole off at Primo’s doorstep. Let him handle it now that the law fucked it up.”
“So, what happens here now?” Teresa asked, making us all turn to look at her like we’d collectively forgotten she was there.
“How do you you mean?” Renzo asked.
“Well, with your connection with this club? You know, now that he knows.”
“ He is standing right here,” I reminded her.
“Don’t get me started on you,” Teresa said, slipping into that mama-bear mode she’d warned me about earlier.
“T, I get this situation is… a lot. But don’t,” he warned. “I think you’ve already overstepped with regard to Saff.”
“Is it overstepping to tell her I was onto her? When it turns out I was right?” Teresa asked, chin jerking up.
“When it comes to Saff, yes.”
“Yeah, while we’re on that,” Renzo said, making my stomach flip. “How long you two been fucking?”
“Renz…”
“I told you not to fuck this job up. Told you how fucking important it was. Fucking Christ. You couldn’t have fucked it up more than this.”
“I—” I started, though I knew I had no leg to stand on.
“I’m going to ask you to take the bass out of your voice when you’re talking to her,” Soren said. His words made my heart squeeze and Renzo’s brows raise.
I mean, it took balls to talk to an armed man like that. It took bigger balls to speak to an armed mob boss like that.
Renzo’s gaze slid to me, then back to Soren.
“That’s the way of it?”
“That’s the way of it. I get that she… works for you. And that you think she didn’t do a good job. But you’re not going to speak to her like that in front of me.”
Renzo paused, looking at Soren for a long moment.
“Do you know who I am?” he asked, tone casual.
“From what I’m gathering, you’re Renzo Lombardi. The boss of the Lombardi crime family.”
“And you’re still gonna tell me how to talk to one of my capos?”
“If that capo is Saff, then yes.”
“Christ,” Renzo said, huffing out a sigh. “Tell you what,” he said, looking at me. “You two figure your shit out. Then you come and you clue me in. I don’t have time for bullshit. Do your job.” When Soren took a step forward, Renzo shook his head, but there was a ghost of a smile on his lips as he added, “Respectfully.”
With that, he walked off down the hallway to talk to Bass and Serano.
“So, I feel like I should probably… take the rest of the day off,” Teresa said. “My Marty has been wanting to take me out somewhere fancy. I think tonight is the night.”
“We’ll talk tomorrow,” he said to her, getting a nod from her before she turned to walk away. “Hey, T.”
“Yeah?” she asked, turning back.
“Thanks for swooping in to save the day. As usual.”
To that, she shot him a soft smile. “Bet you’re real happy you had me sign that NDA now, aren’t you?” she asked with a twinkle in her eye before walking off.
There was a tense silence after her departure before Soren broke it.
“You live around here, right?”
“Yes.”
“Let’s go there,” he said. “But the real one, not some staged one like your office.”
My face scrunched up, realizing that the wool hadn’t been as fully over his eyes as I’d thought.
“Oh, darlin’,” he said, sensing my train of thought. “I’ve been onto you from almost the beginning. I just got too distracted,” he went on with a heated look in his eye, “to act on it.”
“It was the clothes, wasn’t it? I hated the clothes so much.”
“Definitely part of it.”
Two more of Renzo’s men made their way into the club.
“Let’s get going. Where did you get this thing anyway?” I asked, handing him the gun back.
“Calvin.”
“Your driver?”
“Yeah, I’m just as surprised as you are,” he admitted. “Let’s go give it back to him.”
We slid into the back of his car, and he slipped the gun back to Calvin.
“Don’t worry. We didn’t use it,” I told him when he hesitated.
Calvin nodded.
When he got a look at my face, he didn’t ask about what happened, but did offer me a bottle of water and some napkins from the glovebox.
“Here, let me,” Soren said, taking the items from me, wetting the napkins, and carefully blotting at the dry blood.
“You don’t need to be so gentle. I can take it.”
“Yes, I do,” he countered, making that swooping sensation move through my belly.
I prattled off the address to Calvin, who plugged it into his GPS, then pulled the car away from the sidewalk as one of Renzo’s cars—a blacked out white van—pulled up onto the sidewalk. So they could remove Alen without anyone seeing.
“Here, huh?” Soren asked when Calvin dropped us off outside my building.
“I like not knowing my neighbors.”
“Also a perk to having the whole top floor,” he agreed. “Are you going to invite me up?”
I didn’t really have a choice.
I had a lot to answer for.
But more than that, I wanted to.
Soren was going to be the first man to ever step foot in my place.
Which felt poetic in a way.
Since he was the first man to get into my heart.