27. Heaven
CHAPTER 27
HEAVEN
I grip the steering wheel like it’s a lifeline. Fury and pain rage through me, ripping at my veins. Let that fucker follow me.
Let him try to fucking stop me.
I will mutilate anyone named Villani who dares come near me. I’ve never felt so humiliated, so rejected, so pathetic.
How could I not have seen something like this coming?
Blood rushes between my ears as I stomp on the gas pedal, speeding uptown. I swerve around cars as I zoom up the West Side Highway, not giving a flying fuck if there are any cops in my way.
Traffic lights become flashes of red, orange, and green, blurred by the angry tears stinging my eyes.
Matteo Villani is a slimy bastard of a low-down gangster who charges boatloads for sordid sexual escapades and conspires with scumbag drug lords to steal what’s not his. To throw people like me to the wolves for money and power, without a second thought. He’ll do anything to get what he wants.
And I fell in love with him. Like a stupid, na?ve moron.
I slam my fists on the dashboard. Damn it all.
My skin prickles with the memory of Matteo’s hands on me, his voice softly vibrating against my ear, his body sliding against mine.
“Stop it.” I push the words out and burn rubber, swinging onto 9 th Avenue in the direction of Molly’s. There it is. I pull up, leaving Matteo’s car double-parked, keys in the ignition.
I hope someone steals it. No, I hope someone smashes into it. I hope they fucking decimate it, the same way he decimated my heart, that motherfucker.
I jump out of the car and yank open the door to Molly’s. It’s still early. No patrons have ventured inside the bar yet.
“Dad!” My voice echoes in the empty space, and the kitchen door swings open. Aunt Maura rushes out, a panicked look on her face. She puts her hands on my shoulders. “Heaven, what’s wrong? Where’s Matteo?”
My pulse throbs, razor-sharp breaths slicing at my lungs. “Where…is…my…father?”
Her blue eyes widen. “He’s in his office. But what is this all about? Why aren’t you with?—?”
The doorway at the back of the bar opens and my father walks out, an alarmed look on his worn face. Conor struts out after him, leaning against the bar wearing his signature scowl.
“Heaven?” Dad asks, sliding a hand over his head. “What are you doing here?”
I stomp toward him, but I catch a glimpse of Conor’s glare, and I don’t stop at my father. I keep going, barreling straight to my brother. I ball my left hand into a tight fist and launch it at his jaw, my huge diamond engagement ring cracking against his face.
“You fucking bastard!” I say as he doubles over with a loud groan.
“Heaven, what the fuck?” he groans, clutching his now-bloody lip. It must have caught one of the prongs.
Good.
If I had a fucking knife, I’d have sliced the whole damn lip off.
“You tried to kill me. You killed Dominguez’s daughter. You opened the door for him to crush us all!”
“Heaven.” Dad grabs my arm. “What the hell?”
I could tell him. But it’s going to be me pouring out my bleeding heart, and I’m not about to do that. I’m an underboss, and they know exactly what they signed me up for. Through the veils of fury and pain, I grab Conor by the shirt and shove him hard, back into the bar. And then I knee him in the balls because fuck him.
Fuck them all.
“You made a deal to protect this piece of shit, Dad. But Matteo wanted everything.”
Conor grabs at me, but I slap him away. “He’s weak?—”
“No, Conor, you are,” I say. “All of you. Too interested in measuring your dicks than anything else. Matteo was going to take everything and leave us to Dominguez.”
Conor’s groaning and trying to grab me, so I fucking punch him again. “Like we’d let him,” he says.
“Like you’re smart enough to stop him.” I take a breath, stepping away from my asshole brother and I look at Dad. “Did you even do any research on Matteo Villani before you agreed to sell me off to him?”
“What are you talking about? He’s known. He’s the best. I hired him to protect us.”
“Really? Are you all that gullible?”
“Heaven, love,” Aunt Maura says, glancing at my father. “You’re not making any sense right now.”
I look at my aunt, moving toward her. “You don’t know what happened,” I say, my voice dropping. “I hate Matteo.”
“Heaven,” Dad says, “I’m not stupid. I hired him to protect us. I made the deal with him that gave him you. Because?—”
“What?”
“I knew you could handle it. Handle him. And it was the only way. By being married to you he’d have the business one day, with you at his side. Conor, too.”
“Did you also know that Dominguez planned to kill me, too? No doubt after raping and torturing me first.” I stalk up to him, my hands balling into fists. “Your plan didn’t really work out too well for you, Dad, because with me gone, Matteo would hand over Conor, and all this would be his!”
Dad looks at me, face pale, so old and worn and sad. I don’t see a spark of ire or anger there. “Heaven, the way he spoke about you when he mentioned you the first time, I knew he’d want a piece of our operation, which I’d have willingly given, but whether he realized it or not, he wanted you. And I’ve seen how he’s looked at you since then, how he’s been, how he’s hovered and protected you from anyone and anything.”
He stops, like he’s searching for the right words to placate me. “He’s a cold, dangerous bastard, different from the other Italians here, I know that. But I also knew what he wanted—other than you—and the thing is, we needed him.”
With a tight throat, I can barely squeeze out the next words. “He’d have everything. Everything!” I grab two pilsner glasses from the bar and hurl them against the large, plate glass mirror behind it.
My chest heaves, the sound of shattering glass not nearly enough to bring me relief. I grab a bottle of Jameson and fling it across the wall, the amber-colored liquid splashing all over the tables and floors next to it.
I take a few deep breaths to settle my rapidly spiking heart rate, but it’s futile. This is not how an underboss acts. I know that. Of course I do. But hell, right now I’m not that. I’m a woman whose heart is betrayed, shattered, bleeding. And the assailant isn’t just my husband. It’s all of them.
I hate the fact that Matteo’s betrayal hurts the worst. And when I heard him with his brothers, I knew that had been a final ‘fuck you’ to me. It’s like a piece of my soul had been ripped away.
“I gave my life away for all of you,” I say. “I wasn’t given a choice. But I did my duty, and you all… You played me. You lied to me. Worst of all? You discredited me. Humiliated me. I’ve given everything for this family, and you just took, took, took. And all for Conor, who got so fucked up he pulled a gun on me.”
Dad stares hard at me and Aunt Maura gasps.
Conor doesn’t make a noise at all.
Something dark and nasty flares in my father’s eyes and he turns, stalking to Conor and fisting his shirt, slamming him back against the bar, harder than I ever could.
“Is this true, Conor?” he asks with quiet and deadly intent. “Did you pull a gun on your sister?”
“I…” Conor looks at me, and the disgust suddenly morphs into shame. But then he lifts his head and narrows his eyes. “It was a bad day. I wouldn’t have done it. But she needs to learn her lesson. Know her place. She’s no underboss. We all know it.”
Silence comes down and the fire suddenly goes out in me and I collapse into a chair. “I’m not. And it’s not just because I’m female.” I look up at Dad. “Marrying me off to Matteo was to keep me in check because you just didn’t trust me. You haven’t since… Since Molly was taken. Because that was all my fault. Just like Conor told me.”
“Conor.” That’s all Dad says.
And I look down, blinking hard, trying to clear the hot blur of tears from my eyes. I take in a deep breath, then another and another, until I have my control back, until I’m no longer on the edge of self-pity and disaster.
“Heaven, that’s nonsense,” Aunt Maura says, as she moves to me. “Everyone knew you’d done what you could to stop them from taking her.”
“No, not everyone.” I look at my father. “You didn’t. I saw it in your eyes then, and I can see it again now.”
Dad shakes his head. “You only see what you want to see, Heaven. You always have. You’ve been so racked with guilt that you’ve never let yourself off the hook.”
“Was making me underboss charity?”
My father laughs, a sad sound. “Not on your life, Heaven.”
“It was my fault,” I say. “And I’ve been trying to make up for it ever since.”
“You’re the only one who thinks you need this redemption.” Dad’s forehead pinches.
“Fuck that!” Conor staggers over. “If you had the makings of a boss, Heaven, you’d have saved her!”
“Conor!” Dad glares at him. “Enough!”
I shake my head, my shoulders slumping. “No. He’s right. I know it.”
For years, I’ve let Conor chip away at me because he’s a mess. I’ve proven myself, I know that. I took one for the team and got my heart decimated.
But I’m strong.
I can see that.
There’s guilt and there’ll always be guilt over Molly. But if I can do this, change my thinking, get my shit together, and be in the game my way, then I’ll make it. I run over what Dad’s said. It strikes me he’s never said I wasn’t good enough.
I look at him. “Why did you also appoint me underboss? Because of what happened?”
He frowns. “No, Heaven.” He slides a disgusted look at Conor. “Because you’re smart and strong and can go places. I know how the game is played. I’ve been hard on you, harder than Conor, because you have the ability. But you have to want it for the right reasons. I thought if the two of you did this together, one would choose that life, and the other would find the right fit for them.”
“Me?”
“I don’t know. But Villani has opportunities that I can’t give you. I thought I was playing him, but he played us.”
“So—”
“Enough. Listen to me.” He shakes his head and takes hold of the back of a chair. “I let him in because we needed him. Like it or not. And you…it was safer for you, Heaven. Over the past couple of weeks, I saw his real motive. Villani wants our territory. And you with him and the way he looks at you… Well, I’d rather him than someone else laying claim to what’s ours because Conor will fuck it up.”
“Bullshit,” Conor says, coming at us. Then he stops short, like he realizes who he’s about to jump. “She’s a fucking girl. She’s weak. She’s gonna need a man. Look at her. All fucking sad because bitch here couldn’t keep the man she was set up with.”
My aunt of all people marches up and slaps Conor across the face. “I love you, you’re my blood. But pray we forgive you. And if I ever hear you speak about women like that again, especially your sister, I’ll shoot you myself.”
I flash my aunt a grateful smile. Feeling sorry for myself isn’t who I want to be. Or who I am. I get up. I keep going, dammit. “You rock, Aunt Maura. Thanks, Dad. And Conor? I forgive you for what happened.”
He starts to speak but I speak over him.
“But let’s get one thing straight, Conor,” I say. “You fucked up. You keep fucking up. And if it continues, no one will be able to save you. Dominguez is coming. He’ll destroy everything to get to you. So, stay the hell out of my way. I’m going to be the one to save our family.”
I press my lips together and turn, stalking to the door, ignoring the eruption of voices behind me. I pause and grab the small gun that’s hidden behind the hostess podium and stuff it down into my sock beneath the leg of my jeans. It’s Aunt Maura’s, what she calls her Lady Killer.
Small, discreet, and deadly.
And then I push open the door and step out, past the tables they’ve set up for the nice weather. It’s quiet for Hell’s Kitchen, and that suits me.
I need to track down Dominguez and kill him. If I see a certain deceitful husband, I’ll get him, too. As long as I keep moving, I’ll be good. I won’t have to think.
Or feel.
I head toward Matteo’s car where it is miraculously still parked, but something stops me in my tracks. I look around, searching. I don’t see anything, but the hackles are rising like an ominous sixth sense, and I’m about to bend to grab the Lady Killer when a man grabs my attention. He walks from the building next to us—quiet, determined, and blank-faced.
To the right comes another, and then another from across the street. Metal glints in the sun in each of their hands.
Oh, shit.
They’re coming. Dominguez’s men. I’d bet my life’s savings on it. A car screeches to a stop in front of me and suddenly I’m surrounded. They’re closing in.
Behind me there’s movement from the bar.
“Heaven!” Aunt Maura calls out.
Another car from a different direction hops the curb.
I’m surrounded on both sides by tables and chairs, and men with guns are closing in.
Trapped.
Exactly the way they planned it.
Just as hellfire comes down in a rain of bullets.