19. Roman
CHAPTER 19
ROMAN
I stand there, holding her as she weeps like her heart is breaking.
And here I am, getting ready to break it all over again.
“I lost my mother, too,” I murmur, stroking the back of her head. “I know it hurts, and I’m sorry.”
Her tears soak through the thin fabric of my t-shirt, grief quaking her whole body. We stand there, silent save for her soft sobs. I can’t fix this for her, much as I want to take away her pain and sadness.
I can only make it worse.
That’s what I’m good for.
When she finally pulls away, I sweep my finger under her eyes, wiping away her tears. “Chella, I know you feel like you’re isolated and alone right now. But don’t miss a chance to fix things with your father. If you’ve never listened to his side, maybe you should hear him out. He lost a lot, too, you know?”
She raises her tear-filled eyes up at me. They’re greener now, because she’s upset. It’s a realization that makes my chest tighten, and one I can’t really do much about since telling her the truth will open up a can of worms that needs to stay sealed for the time being. I can’t tell her how I know the truth. I can only urge her to find it out for herself.
“Why do you even care? I mean, he hurt your family way back when. And it’s because of him that Frankie screwed you over.” She sniffles.
I capture her chin in my hand. “I care because of you. Your father made mistakes, yeah. But it’s hard for me to hold a grudge when my family has been so successful. He definitely deserves to be punished for his scumbag ways, but trust me, he is. Rikers is a fucking hellhole, Chella. He’s paying big time.”
Jesus, if my brothers and father heard me talking like this, they’d go crazy. Me, being all forgiving and shit. Me, being so affected by a woman. Me, being…I don’t know…human, I guess.
She furrows her brow. “Are you saying all this so that I make amends before he loses something else?”
I shake my head. “No, I’m telling you this as a friend. Don’t waste any more time. Fix things while you have the chance.”
She backs away, wiping her eyes. “Is this because of what you’re going to do to Frankie if he doesn’t come through? If he fails you? You want me to let my father know he still has at least one kid left?”
I grasp her wrist and pull her back toward me. “Stop being so suspicious,” I say. “This doesn’t have anything to do with Frankie. This is about you and your pop. Period.”
Chella nods slowly. “It’s just weird that Frankie hasn’t called back and you’re here telling me to make amends with my dad.”
“Don’t read into it, Chella. I told you, I’m gonna take care of things.”
“Okay,” she whispers. “And I’ll think about the other stuff.” Bella yaps, winding her leash around our ankles as we walk up the five flights of stairs. I’m out of breath once we get upstairs, again. I really need to get some more cardio in.
I can think of a very carnal set of exercises to add into my day, too.
I open the door and grab my phone out of my pocket when it vibrates against my leg. A text from Bobby flashes on the screen.
I’ve got him.
I take a deep breath. “Chella, I need you to hang out here for a little while, okay? I have something to handle for work before the event tonight.”
She flashes a small smile. “So you trust me enough not to bolt once you’re gone?”
I wrap my arms around her and gather her close. “I’m pretty confident that you’ll stay put, especially if you know what’s gonna happen after the event tonight.”
“Are you going to leave me in suspense?”
“Let’s just say dessert won’t be served to you at the event. It’ll be served to you right here. By me.”
“Sounds delicious,” she murmurs.
I give her ass a squeeze and she lets out a tiny squeal. Of course, Bella joins in, jumping in between us for her turn to play. She nips at my ankles and Chella giggles. “You sure you have to go? Your girls want to play.”
“Later,” I murmur, dropping a kiss onto her lips. “Be ready.”
I walk out of the apartment and close the door behind me, leaning my back against it for a second. I hate like hell that I’m lying to her. If what Matteo told me is true, the Volkovs are edging closer. And they won’t wait. They’ll just plunder the shit out of our organization.
And God only knows what they’ll do to Marchella if they find her.
I need to do this.
I need to handle Frankie.
I need to show the Volkovs that they can’t fuck with our business.
I take the elevator down to the basement and jump into my car, the tires squealing as I pull the car out of the private parking garage. Twenty minutes later, I’m hurrying into the same deserted warehouse where I handled Dario less than twenty-four hours ago.
I’d really hoped I wouldn’t have to see the inside of this place again so soon.
The air is dank and damp, and a chill seeps into my bones as I near the single light shining toward the back of the building.
The interrogation room.
Or the maiming room.
Depending on the nature of the business being conducted.
I walk into the room to find Frankie sitting in a chair with Bobby holding a gun to the back of his head. His wrists are bound with duct tape, but he’s not tied to the chair. At least he’s smart enough not to make any moves to leave.
“Why am I here?” he yells. “And where the fuck is my sister, you bastard?”
I glare at him, my fingers itching to punch a hole into his jaw. But I stand down. I need him conscious to get my information.
There will be plenty of time later to knock him into next year if he doesn’t learn to keep his goddamn mouth shut.
“I know everything, Frankie,” I seethe, grabbing his hair and yanking his head back. “I know you have access to the drugs. I know you fucked with the Volkovs. And I know it was you who made that hit, not your father.”
He narrows his still-swollen eyes at me. “You don’t know anything,” he spits out. “I don’t have access to anything!”
“Bullshit!” I yell, pulling his hair harder. “You fucking banded together with Salvatore to set us up. Was it all about revenge, Frankie? Huh? You figured you’d screw us and walk away with a wad of our product at the same time? Enough to pay off the Volkovs and then some for yourself? Was that it? You’re looking to make a name for yourself, Frankie, since nobody in this fucking town will take you seriously because of who and what you are?”
“No!”
I let go of his hair and grab him by the neck. “Then tell me what I don’t know!”
“They were gonna kill my dad and Chella!” he chokes out, his voice raspy as he struggles for air. “Unless I got them the drugs! I can’t get what you asked for!”
“Goddammit!” I scream, shoving him against the back of the chair.
“But I can tell you one thing,” he says, clutching his throat as he gasps for breath. “They want more. And they’re planning another hit.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I hiss.
“Because you have my sister. And I’m afraid they’ll come for her, too. I need you to be ready for them or else you’re gonna lose a fuck ton more than you already have.”
“And I’m supposed to believe you…why? You’re a two-faced scumbag, just like your father. Why would I trust you?”
“Because of Marchella,” he says. “I know you don’t want her to get hurt. Hell, I knew it years ago when we were kids. I saw the way you’d look at her. You haven’t forgotten about that, have you? You won’t put her in danger, Roman.”
“I don’t fucking believe you,” I seethe, clenching my fists at my side.
“If you don’t listen to me, the Volkovs will crush you! They smell blood and they’re gonna attack, don’t you get it?”
“Okay, fine,” I say. “Say I do believe you? How the fuck am I supposed to stop them?”
“They’re planning to hit you again tonight. You need to be ready for them. You need to move your shit before they show up. Get things outta that storage room as soon as possible.”
“And why the hell are you telling me? They’ll kill you if they find out.”
Frankie lets out a dry laugh. “I’m dead either way. Nobody will work with me because of my dad. I’m no use to the Volkovs now that I’ve already delivered for them. I should be the one rotting in jail,” he mutters.
“So I hear,” I say.
He looks up at me, his breathing labored. His eyes are heavy, riddled with anger and dejection. They used to be full of fire, but now they’re just filled with defeat. “You don’t know what it was like, Roman. To be yanked out of a life you loved and thrown into a new one. A fucking horrible one where you constantly have to look over your shoulder because you never knew when someone might jump out and slit your throat. All because of shit your father did.” He takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Do you know how many times I needed to run into the fire because of some shit he pulled? I bailed him out so many times because if I didn’t, I knew my mother and Chella would get hurt. Or worse. I know Chella thinks I’m just like him, but the reality is, I needed to be, so I could stay a step ahead of him.”
“What the hell happened with the Volkovs, then? Why’d you do it?”
“I was desperate,” he mumbles. “We had no money, shit was being repossessed left and right. We’d just lost Mama. I just snapped, I guess. I was tired of always being the one to bail out Papa and I figured this could be an easy way to make some quick cash. I had buyers lined up.” He shrugs. “The car was supposed to be empty. It wasn’t. The soldier manning the stash saw my face so I knew if I didn’t kill him, the Volkovs would come back for us. Papa got there just in time to save my ass from the cops. He took the fall, I don’t know, I guess because he thought my life was worth more than his on the outside.” He lifts an eyebrow. “Guess not, huh?”
I kneel down in front of him, looking at the beaten, broken down man who used to be my best friend so many years ago.
I give a swift nod. “I’ll be ready.”
“You can’t be there,” he says, his forehead pinched.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“If you’re there, they’ll know I told you about it. And they’ll come after Marchella and my dad and kill us all. You need to stay with her. I know you can protect her.”
“Why should I give a damn what happens to you or your father?” I growl.
“You shouldn’t. But you won’t hurt Chella like that,” he says. “You won’t let her lose the rest of her family. I know you, Roman.”
“Not anymore you don’t.” I hover over him. “You’re a piece of shit, Frankie. And I don’t owe you a goddamn thing. But Chella doesn’t deserve any of this.”
“You have the power to keep her safe and to keep her from getting hurt again,” Frankie mutters. “Don’t let the Volkovs win. I told you what you need to know. Get your guys on it and watch over my sister.”
I stare at him for a long minute, my arms folded over my chest before meeting Bobby’s gaze. “Make the call,” I grunt. He nods and pulls out his phone to give the order as he walks out of the room.
The corners of Frankie’s lips curl slightly upward. “What are you out to prove this time, Roman?” he says. “That baby bro can actually deliver for the family? That he’s just as much of a badass as the rest of the Villani men? That he can keep the empire protected?”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I growl.
“You were always looking for your time to shine. You fucked around a lot because you knew you could get away with it. But then when you wanted to be taken seriously, nobody believed you’d amount to anything.” He lets out a menacing laugh. “I remember it all. You rebelling and then trying to find your place in a family that thought you were a useless fucking peon.”
“Fuck you!” I bellow, pulling him up from the chair and grabbing him by the shirt collar.
“You’re as weak and stupid now as you were back then,” he snarls, clearly not giving a damn that I’ve got a gun and he can’t protect himself at all.
I turn and throw him against the cement wall, letting out a loud roar that reverberates in the space.
And the sonofabitch just laughs.
At me.
The one thing I’ve been trying for so long to overcome is the one insecurity he just tore open like a wound that’s been scabbed over for over a decade.
“You really think I’d help you, Roman? Huh? After you fucked me over and kicked me to the curb back in Sicily? Little fucking prince. You knew who was gonna butter your bread and you weren’t gonna do anything to screw up your place!”
I launch my fist backward, ready to let it fly against his already bruised and swollen jaw.
Then I remember his wrists are taped together.
And I want him ready to fight!
I pull out a knife and cut the tape off his wrists. Then I toss the knife onto the concrete, edging close to him. He sways left and right, trying to get his bearings.
I catch Bobby’s incredulous stare as he walks back in but I don’t give a damn.
I want Frankie free right now.
I want to pummel him into the ground knowing that it’s because I’m stronger and more powerful.
I don’t want to pussy out and beat the shit out of him while he can’t protect himself.
That’s pathetic and weak.
And I’m not that guy!
Not any fucking more!
“Come on, you bastard!” I yell, holding up my fists. “You’re free! So fucking take the shot!”
He swings at me and I duck backward before landing a solid punch to his gut. He lets out a loud moan and hunches over.
“That’s all you’ve got, Frankie? That’s the best you can do?” I launch my fist out again once he lifts his head. It explodes against his jaw and he stumbles backward against the concrete. Blood oozes from the corner of his mouth and he glares at me. “It’s about time you learned how to throw a goddamn punch,” he hisses, launching himself at me. We crash into the chair, landing on the cold ground with a loud thud. I swing like my life depends on it, smashing my fists into his midsection, since I know that’s his weakness.
At least, since yesterday when my guys kicked the crap out of him before dragging him to my office.
I slam my fists into his face, his throat, his temple, all while my vision is blanketed in a deep red haze.
Fury floods my insides until my fingers can’t take any more and I collapse on the ground next to Frankie. His lip is split, his jaw bloody and even more bruised than before.
He rolls away from me, groaning as he lands on his side. “You can’t stop it,” he hisses. “I led the Volkovs to you to save my ass, Roman. I more than made up for what I took from them. I gave them the keys to your kingdom, and now they’re gonna plunder it until there’s nothing left! Because that’s what you deserve! You took for so long, now someone else is gonna take from you!” He struggles to get up and turns to look at me. “How’s that for karma, bitch?”
With all the force I can muster, I land one final punch and Frankie goes down like a bag of cement, his head cracking on the floor.
I stagger to my feet, raking a hand through my hair. “That asshole is working with the Volkov Bratva,” I mutter. “Did you lock down the drugs?”
Bobby nods. “I had more security put on the new location since we moved them after the first robbery. The Volkovs won’t find anything if they show up again at Risk.”
I nod. “Good. Now help me get this piece of shit into my trunk. I’m not letting him out of my sight.”
“But what about the bratva? Frankie said they’re coming.”
“Make sure security is prepped at the club.” But a nagging feeling tells me the club isn’t the target. “I’ve gotta get back to my place now.”
Except, I don’t really know what the hell to do once I get back there.
I don’t have any bad blood with the Volkovs.
They run their territories and we run ours. Why the hell would they come into Manhattan to mess with our businesses, especially knowing we’re connected to the Severinov Bratva, our Russian counterparts in Las Vegas?
The Severinovs would decimate them.
They know that.
It doesn’t make sense.
I rub the back of my neck once Frankie is locked in my trunk, and I drive back to my building with crazed thoughts flying through my mind.
I feel like I’m missing something and I fucking hate it!
I dropped the ball once by not calling Matteo.
He needs to hear this firsthand.
I’ve been so focused on making a name for myself that I forgot the whole reason why I’m in this position in the first place.
I need to do what’s right for the family, not for myself.
Every time I lose sight of that, something else crumbles.
My chest tightens as I think of Chella back at my place, wondering where the hell I am.
What would she say if she knew I had her beloved brother laid out in my trunk?
I scrub a hand down the front of my face.
I can’t think about that now.
I need to focus!
I pull my car into the garage and dart up the stairs, bypassing the elevator completely.
Somehow, it feels wrong to take it.
Especially now.
I throw open the door to the apartment to find Dante lounging on the couch, flipping through Netflix shows. “Where’s Chella?” I say in a low voice.
He nods toward the bathroom. “Getting ready for that charity thing. She’s been in there for over an hour.”
“Good,” I say. “Come into my office. We need to call Matteo.”
Dante narrows his eyes at me. “Where the hell have you been? And whose blood is all over your shirt and hands?”
“Frankie’s.”
“Fuuuuck,” he breathes. “This should be a fun call.”
I close the door behind us and open the lid of my laptop. Then I pull up Matteo’s number and make the call. His face flashes on the screen a minute later and he looks hella tense. I brace myself for another lashing because there’s no way I’ll escape his wrath right now.
“Did you take care of it?” he asks, not even bothering with a quick greeting.
“Not exactly,” I say. I recount the whole story for my brothers, including Frankie’s whole sob story and then one-hundred-and-eighty-degree about-face that confirmed his revenge plot against me.
Us.
It doesn’t really matter.
He fucking crossed the line.
“I hammered him pretty bad then threw him in my trunk,” I say, folding my arms over my chest.
“What the hell are you gonna do with him in your trunk?” Matteo shouts.
“I was trying to come up with a different plan,” I say through gritted teeth. “I didn’t want to have to kill anyone else, don’t you get that? I wanted to solve this without any more blood!”
“But you couldn’t do that, could you?” Matteo sneers. “And now we’re going to war with the fucking Volkovs? How in the hell did you let this happen, Roman?”
“Look, I made a mistake! A lot of them! But I’m trying to fix it all!”
“And why did you think meeting with Frankie was gonna solve anything? The guy is a goddamn weasel! He’s never gonna change! And he wants to take us down. Him, his father. They were just waiting for the right time…” Matteo narrows his eyes. “For the little prince to step in so they could cut him off at the knees!”
Dante looks at me and gives me a little shrug. “We’ve gotta find out if this whole thing with the Volkovs is a real threat or if it’s Frankie fucking with your head.”
“So, what, you wanna go to Brooklyn and meet them for fucking borscht and vodka to talk it all out?” I snip.
Matteo holds up his hands. “Okay, just relax, dammit. I’ll talk to Alek. He’ll make a call.”
“No,” I say. “This is my mess to clean up. I don’t need the Severinovs to run interference for me. I’ll figure it out!”
“Did you ever think Frankie might be baiting you?” Dante asks. “He and Sal pulled the first job. The Volkovs weren’t involved. We have no dealings with them.”
“Yeah, so?” The stress knot at the base of my skull is growing with alarming speed.
“Maybe he’s trying to distract you again. Have you looking out for the Volkovs when the threat is right under your nose. He wants to take us down, to make sure we suffer like his family did. Him, not the Volkovs.”
“Dante is right,” Matteo says. “Save yourself the aggravation and kill the fucking prick! Kill Frankie before he?—”
My blood boils, rushing between my ears with such force that I don’t even hear the door slam open.
“Kill Frankie?” A high-pitched female voice cuts through the tension in the room as Marchella storms into the room, looking like a goddess in the floor-length gown I bought her earlier today. Her high heels click angrily on the hardwood floor, her face twisted with rage. She walks right over to me, not even bothering to acknowledge the computer screen, and she shoves her hands against my chest. “You fucking liar!” she screams. “You promised me you’d take care of everything, that you wouldn’t hurt him!” Her eyes spit emerald fire as she pushes against me again. “You told me to trust you, that we’d be safe! And you’re planning to kill him!” She reaches out and slaps me across the face with a force that sends a stinging sensation exploding across my jaw. “I hate you!”
I capture her wrist in my hand before she can land another smack, hissing at her. “I did what had to be done. I wasn’t about to let him hurt my family!”
“What about what you promised me? I guess that doesn’t count, right? Because I’m not one of your brothers? I don’t rate?”
“I have a responsibility to my family, Marchella,” I growl. “It’s my job to keep our organization protected.”
“Well, I guess that ‘job’ will have to be what keeps you warm at night, Roman.” She flips her wrist, pulling it from my grip. “Because I’m done playing your fucking games!” Marchella twists around and stalks out of the room.
I run after her, yanking her back toward me. “Your brother is the liar,” I mutter. “He doesn’t give a damn about anything other than revenge. He wants to see my family crumble!”
“Can you blame him, after everything that happened?”
I fist my hair. “This is all on your father! Why is that little detail something you and Frankie keep on forgetting? And for the record, he’s lucky my father didn’t have him killed after what he did to us back in Sicily!”
“You are an insufferable asshole!” she yells, twisting around to grab a bottle of red wine from the counter in the kitchen. She hurls it toward my head and I duck in time for it to shatter against the wall…a wall that had been stark white only seconds earlier. Now, it looks like a murder scene with splotches of red wine soaking into the sheetrock.
I run after her, reaching an arm around her midsection, but she swings her shoulder into my chest. She tries to punch me again but I capture her fist before she has the chance to crack it against my jaw. “Ahh!” she screams, stomping on my foot with the skinny heel of her shoe, and then driving her knee right into my balls.
I release her, crumbling onto the floor, doubled over from the hit, and she grabs my car keys from the kitchen island before darting out of the apartment.
The girl literally brought me to my goddamn knees.
I struggle to my feet, gasping for breath and clutching myself as Dante comes out of the office a minute later.
“Damn, Romo. Your girl is fucking brutal. Listen, Matteo is pissed as hell and he wants us to?—”
“Forget…Matteo. She has…my keys…” I rasp. “Frankie is…in trunk.”
“Christ,” he mutters, sliding on his sneakers and running out the door. I pull myself to a half-standing position and go after him, taking the steps as fast as I can, which isn’t saying much since I’m still partially incapacitated.
I’m almost at the bottom floor when Dante disappears through the door into the garage. “Jesus Christ!” he yells. I run-walk to the door, grasping the handle and pulling it open to find Frankie scrambling out of my trunk and Chella firing me a death glare from across the space. The driver’s side door is open. I guess she got sidetracked when she heard her idiot brother thrashing around in the trunk.
“You fucking asshole!” she screams, shaking her fists in the air. “How could you do this to him? He was about to suffocate in there!”
Frankie doesn’t waste a second before he lunges for me, throwing his body into me with such force, we land against the glass wall with a loud thud. I roll him over and pound his face with my fist, forgetting about the trauma recently done to my manhood.
“You forget how this ended the first time?” I grunt as he smashes his fists into my covered midsection. “Did you forget how you ended up in the goddamn trunk? Huh?”
I stagger to my feet, spitting blood from where he landed his one good hook against my jaw. He drags himself up to a half-standing position, breathing heavily as Dante rolls his eyes at me.
“You think you’re getting the last word, huh, Roman?” Frankie hisses, inching toward me. “Well, guess what? You’re wrong. So fucking wrong and I can’t wait until I can see it on your face! The look that says I’m about to be fucked by Frankie Amante again and there’s nothing I can do about it except bend over! ”
Dante groans. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, that’s not an image I want burned into my memory.”
Frankie dives for my ankles, tackling me to the ground. My head narrowly misses the car door before I hit the cement. He rolls on top of me, his knee digging into my throat, and then something distracts him and he jumps off of me and into the driver’s seat of my already beaten-up Bentley.
I clutch my throat, sputtering for breath as I hear a piercing scream followed by one single gunshot to the ceiling.
“Frankie, no!” Chella yells.
My fucking gun!
Goddammit, why the hell did I leave it on the front seat?
Another shot fires just as I duck around the front of the car to shield myself, the rogue bullet wedging itself into the bulletproof glass wall behind me.
“Stop shooting!” Chella grabs Frankie’s shirt and points a finger at me. “And you! You deceitful sack of shit! You did this to him! You beat the hell out of him and stuffed him in your trunk! How could you do that, you fucking animal? If I hadn’t heard him banging, he’d have died!”
Frankie lets out a dry chuckle. “Lucky for me, my sister saw through your bullshit in enough time to get me out so I could take care of you myself!”
“Put the gun down, Frankie!” Dante roars from his spot behind a column. “You won’t get out of here alive if you don’t!”
“Fuck you, Dante!” Frankie yells back, pointing my gun at us. “I’m done with any Villani dictating my fucking next moves!”
“Should I parrot Matteo right now and say you shoulda popped a cap in that idiot’s skull a long time ago?” Dante shouts to me.
I push back my hair, letting out a loud groan. “Sure, if you want me to kick your fucking ass!”
“Later,” Dante snips, pointing his gun at Frankie as the asshole smashes the one window of my car that was still intact with the barrel of the gun he’s holding. “But hopefully before he completely destroys your ride.” He fires off a warning shot, missing Frankie by a mile but jolting him enough to remember we’re still here.
Frankie lets out a primal scream and fires off a few more shots at the side of my car, bullets peppering the metal. Chella shrieks, grabbing him by the back of the shirt.
“Stop it, you fucking psychopath!”
He turns and unleashes years of pent-up rage on her, and I use that as my chance to escape my own gun, darting over to where Dante stands. “This is happening because of him ! The Villani family destroyed us and he is one of them! He deserves everything coming to him! But you never could see who he really was, could you? Huh? Because you were too busy finger-fucking yourself over him, right? Tell the truth, Chell!”
“That’s not true!” she shrieks. “I hated him just as much as you did!”
“Hated? Past tense?” He sneers at me. “So ya brainwashed her, Roman? Is that how you were able to get her into bed?” He looks back at Chella, a grimace shadowing his already-bruised skin. “You loved playing house with him. Admit it! I mean, look at yourself in that dress! You were just living the fucking life, weren’t you?”
Chella smacks him across the face. “You are the one who destroyed us! You and Papa! Have you forgotten that? You’re always ready to blame others for shit that’s gone wrong in your life! How dare you insinuate that I was okay with being kidnapped because of something you did because you’re a bitter, selfish prick?”
Frankie lets out a low, menacing laugh. “Yeah, well, I’m gonna be the one to make us whole again, too.” He swings around, a look of confusion on his face because I’m no longer cowering in front of my car. He narrows his eyes at me where I now stand and points the gun at me. Another shot explodes into the air and I grab Dante’s wrist just as he’s about to take a retaliatory shot.
“Don’t. He’s standing too close to Chella,” I hiss. “Too dangerous.”
“Are we supposed to wait until he hits one or both of us?” Dante grumbles. “I’m a fucking assassin. This is what I do for a living, Romo! Have a little goddamn faith!”
“See, this is what happens when you leave your gun on the front seat in your car, dumbass,” Frankie yells. “Now I’m gonna blow off your fucking head! You were never gonna escape, Roman! Never!”
“I’m not taking any chances with her. Besides, he’s gonna find out very soon that he’s out of options,” I whisper to Dante. “Once that clip is empty, it’s over. And judging by the number of shots he just took, we’re clear.”
“Frankie, what the hell are you talking about? Escape what?” Chella screams. “And stop shooting that gun!”
“Your brother is a lying sack of shit, Chella!” I yell. “You were so pissed off, thinking I went behind your back to kill him, which I fucking should have, by the way. But you didn’t let me get to the part where he screwed my family over again and partnered with the Volkov Bratva to rob me for the second time!”
“The Volkov Bratva?” Chella furrows her brow. “Why the hell would you work with them after everything that happened?” She shoves Frankie. “Are you fucking insane? After what happened to Papa?”
“Yeah, why don’t you tell her the truth about that, Frankie?” I stand up and Dante grabs me to pull me back. I shake my head. “Let me go, Dante,” I say through clenched teeth. “I’m fucking tired of this guy and it’s time to shut him the hell up!” I stalk over to Frankie as his eyes widen. He waves the gun in my face and I just smirk. “Fuck you, Frankie. Why don’t you tell her the truth?” I thunder, launching my fist at his jaw. He doubles over, as expected, and I hover over him. “That’s for messing with my car!”
“Your car was fucked to begin with!” Frankie lets out a roar and shoves me backward hard enough that I stumble into another column and he storms over to me, holding the gun in his outstretched hand. “I hate you, you sonofabitch! And now you’re gonna pay for everything your family has done to us! I hope you rot in hell!”
He pulls the trigger, but the only sound to follow is a clicking sound.
I smirk at him. “You mighta wanted to check the clip before you emptied it into the wall and my car.”
Chella punches Frankie as her screeches pierce the air. “What is wrong with you? Haven’t we lost enough?”
The approaching sound of squealing tires on the cobblestone driveway outside makes my spine stiffen. From where Dante and I are standing, it’s too dark to make out much on the outside of the garage. The walls are all bulletproof glass, but all of the trees lining the perimeter of the building make it hard to see much.
Great for ambiance, bad for reconnaissance.
And something tells me we’re about to come face to face with something damn ominous very soon.
“Who the hell is that?” Dante groans, raking a hand through his hair.
Frankie snickers, staring at the Apple watch on his wrist. He looks at me. “Perfect timing,” he snarls.
That motherfucker. I should have put a bullet in his brain when I had the chance.
Approaching footsteps get louder until I can make out three faint shapes in the courtyard. Three guys.
Correction.
When they come into view, I swallow hard.
Three massive, hulking guys — tall, with shaved heads and inked necks.
And they each have a star tattooed on their necks.
Bratva.
You have got to be kidding me right now…
Most times, I love that this building is secluded from the rest of the city. I like my privacy ninety-nine percent of the time.
But that nagging one percent comes back to haunt me on occasion.
Case in point, now .
“Boris,” Frankie says, holding up a hand. “Listen, I told you this was the place where you could collect the rest of the drugs. This guy right here will lead you to them. So now we’re even, okay?” He glares at me. “But once you have your money, I wanna finish this cocksucker off myself.”
“Frankie!” Chella yells. “You aren’t finishing anyone, do you understand? Jesus Christ, haven’t you learned? And who the hell are these guys?”
The one I guess named Boris steps forward. “We work for the Volkovs,” he grunts in a deep, gravelly voice.
Chella gasps. “The Volkovs? You mean, the?—”
Boris nods. “The ones your brother stole from.”
“Yeah, yeah, but I got some of them back for you and the rest you can get from—” Frankie stammers.
“Shut up!” Boris yells, narrowing his eyes at Frankie. “Drugs weren’t all you stole that night, were they?” He steps farther into the space, his voice echoing as he moves closer. “That’s right, Amante. We know the truth about what really happened that night. So that means we’re nowhere close to even.”
Frankie’s fingers close on the handle of the gun at the same time that he remembers the clip is empty.
And he realizes in that moment that he’s screwed.
“What is he talking about?” Chella says, her voice quivering. “What else did you take, dammit?”
Chella’s panicked gaze locks with mine and I step forward, my hands in the air when Boris points his gun toward me.
“Roman Villani,” he says, narrowing his blue eyes. He holds a shotgun in one hand and his big, heavy black boots thump along the concrete floor as he approaches.
Dante points his own gun at Boris but I hold up a hand. “Listen, Boris, we have no interest in starting a war with you. For years, we’ve run our own territories without a problem. Let’s not create one now, yeah?”
Boris’s lips twist into a grimace as he closes the space between us. “I didn’t come here to start a war,” he grumbles. “And I have no interest in your money.” He holds out the shotgun and twists in Frankie’s direction. “We came for him.”
Frankie staggers backward, still clutching the gun. “Boris, what the hell are you…we had a deal! I delivered Villani, just like I said I would. I led you straight over here so you collect the rest!”
“The deal was that you pay a debt to us,” Boris yells.
“B-boris,” Frankie stammers. “I told you I’d get you all of the goods and then some. What fucking more do you want from me? You can’t seriously be pissed off about that guy I popped! I mean, he was a fucking low-level peon, for fuck’s sake! They’re a dime a dozen!”
Boris swings the shotgun at Frankie’s jaw. “He was my nephew, you piece of shit! And you don’t get to negotiate the life of family, do you understand?”
“What the hell is going on?” Chella screams. “He didn’t kill anyone that night! My father did!”
Boris levels her with a cold stare before scowling at Frankie. “Is that what you told her?”
Frankie’s jaw tightens, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as Boris’s gun settles between his eyes.
Chella’s hands fly up to her mouth when Frankie doesn’t answer. Fucking pussy doesn’t even own up to what he did. “No! All of this time, you’ve made me believe that Papa was the reason…and I turned my back on him for it!” She slams her hands against his chest, shoving him hard. “Oh my God, tell me that’s not true! Tell me you haven’t been lying to me all of this time!”
And still, he doesn’t acknowledge that the story he fed her is complete bullshit. Fury rages through me and the urge to put him through a wall overwhelms me. Frankie shakes uncontrollably as Boris’ shotgun slides down the side of his smashed-up face. “Boris, please, I’m so sorry. There has to be something else I can do to make up for it. I didn’t think anyone was gonna be in that car! Please, just tell me what will let me off the hook?—”
Chella reaches out a hand to Boris. “Please don’t hurt him,” she says, her voice choked with sobs. “Please, he’ll make it up to you. Please don’t take him. Roman! ” she shrieks as Boris raises the gun to the side of Frankie’s head.
“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Dante mutters.
“Boris,” I say. “Let’s talk about this, okay? I know you lost someone close to you?—"
“The fuck we’ll talk!” Boris yells. “Don’t tell me how to conduct business, Villani, or I’ll make sure you’re next!”
“Hey!” I shout. “A little fucking respect, please. This is my goddamn place, do you understand? Let me handle the Amantes. He put a hit on me, let me take care of the shithead instead!”
“I have my orders,” he seethes.
“Yeah, well, you’re in my fucking area,” I grunt. “And in my territory, I handle my own business!”
He raises the gun at me. “Don’t fuck with me. I have no problem with your family…yet. But that can change very quickly if you get in my way!” His nostrils flare and his jaw tightens as he growls his next words at me. “This is revenge, plain and simple. And I’m not leaving until I get it!”
As Boris takes his attention off of Frankie, the chicken shit shoves Chella away and makes a run for it and darts out of the garage. Boris fires his gun at Frankie’s back, the glass absorbing the impact of the shots. The panes crack but don’t shatter, a fact that clearly pisses him off and hampers his efforts to stop Frankie. With a demonic glare in my direction, Boris takes off like a shot after Frankie, both of them disappearing through the trees and into the private courtyard. The other two Russians run after them with Chella on their heels.
I don’t stop to think about the fact that I don’t have a weapon. I just run into the darkness without a lifeline.
I paid a lot of money for my secluded building…the privacy, the exclusivity. It’s nice to have your own space, away from the rest of the somewhat civilized world.
They say luxury comes with a price.
And it’s fucking steep.
“Boris! Don’t fucking do it!” I shout, squinting in the darkness since the dim lighting isn’t enough to make out much of anything. “I will take care?—"
Crack! Pop! Bang!
I can hear Chella’s thick sobs shattering the silence as I weave in and out of bushes to find her. She collapses next to where Frankie’s limp body is sprawled over the bricks. A large red puddle has spread under him and she grabs his hands, holding them tight to her chest. “No, Frankie! Don’t you leave me! Please don’t leave me!”
Boris stands still for a second, watching her before he yanks her by the arm and drags her away from Frankie.
He spits on Frankie, nodding at me as I approach, panting. “This ends right here, right now, Villani. It’s over. If you don’t wanna end up like Amante here, you’ll leave it the fuck alone.”
He puts his gun to Chella’s temple and pulls her down the driveway toward his car. The two Russians are already inside and seconds later, Dante rushes up to me. I grab his gun and take off after the car where Chella struggles against Boris in the backseat.
My legs cramp up with each step I take, my muscles tensing up as they near the corner. I can’t get close enough to take a shot, even to blow out a fucking tire!
If they make it to that corner, it’ll be over.
I’ll never see Chella again…
Screeching tires round the corner from the opposite direction, going the wrong way down my one-way street. The Russians’ car veers off the side of the road, coming to a screeching stop, skidding across the cobblestones and into a lamppost to avoid hitting the other car.
“Chella!” I roar.
My lungs feel like they’re about to explode as my feet pound against the ground to get to her. Her side of the car took the full impact, and all I can see is her head rolling against the backseat where only seconds earlier she’d been clawing at Boris’s face.
I pull open the backdoor, pressing my gun against Boris’s head and yanking him out of the car as Dante runs up to us.
He holds out his hand to Boris and Boris shoves his gun into it, muttering some shit in Russian to his guys.
I climb into the backseat, kneeling next to Chella. I run my fingers down the left side of her face, my fingertips soaked with her blood.
“Chell,” I say in a choked whisper. The door is smashed in but it looks like the back quarter panel took the biggest hit. She must have slammed her head against the window. I run my fingers down the column of her neck and her eyes flutter open.
“Roman,” she moans.
“I’m here, babe.” I lace my fingers with hers. “You’re gonna be okay.”
“Frankie…” she whispers, her eyes shining with tears.
I’m ready to tell her it will be fine when I snap my lips closed.
I can’t lie to her again.
And right now, I don’t have the truth for her, anyway.
Not about Frankie.
I only have my own truth, and that is to promise that I will do everything in my power to keep her safe.
“Can you move?” I ask.
She nods and I snake an arm around her, sliding her out of the car.
Dante has Boris backed against the car along with the other two guys, and I look up for a split second before I scoop Chella into my arms, my voice a deep growl. “You’re not taking her. You came here for Frankie and you did what you were ordered to do. Now get the fuck out of?—”
Another set of footsteps behind Boris stops me mid-thought, and I look past Boris to see a familiar face stagger over to us.
Ray.
He’s the one who ran his car into the Russians, and now he has his gun out and pointed at Boris’ sidekicks. “I got this, boss.”
I give him a quick nod and return my attention to Boris. “You’re outnumbered, Boris. Leave before you start something you will never win. And just remember that you’re completely fucked if you decide to pull another stunt like this in my territory. Always remember that.”
Boris’s lips curl upward into a nasty smirk. “I guess I’ll just have to wait until your family passes through my territory, then.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” I seethe.
“Well then, it looks like our business has come to a close,” he says in an exaggerated Russian accent.
“And it looks like you need to call an Uber.” I nod at Dante and Ray. “These guys will make sure you don’t get diverted.” I wrap my arm around Chella, guiding her away from the Russians, away from the smoldering metal, away from the man who took the last thing in her life that she’d been trying to protect.
It’s not that far of a walk back to where we left Frankie but good God, I wish it was miles away.
But I can see the reality lying there on the cobblestones, motionless, bloody, and void of any indication of life. Chella’s legs buckle as we approach, a strangled cry piercing the otherwise still night air.
“Frankie,” she whimpers, slowly lowering herself down to the ground. She presses her head against his chest, reaching around him to hug him tight.
My jaw tightens as I look down at him, contempt flooding me at the person he’d become.
Maybe it was the person he’d always been and I just didn’t see it until it was too late.
Chella’s body quakes as she weeps for him.
I know how she feels, how helpless you feel when shit goes sideways and you can’t stop the inevitable from happening.
And death for Frankie?
It was always inevitable.
Surprising that he evaded it for as long as he did.
Chella turns her tear-stained face up toward me. “Is he really gone?” she asks, her voice a tormented whisper.
I kneel down next to her and press my ear against Frankie’s chest, noting that his skin is already pasty. I can’t hear a goddamn thing. I press my fingertips against his throat, holding my face right over his mouth but there’s nothing.
No thump of a heart.
No thrum of a pulse.
No wisp of a breath.
Nothing.
No sign of life at all.
I pull Chella into my arms. “I’m so sorry,” I murmur.
And she bawls as the realization grabs hold that yet another piece of her heart and soul has been taken away forever.
* * *
A few minutes later, we stagger into the apartment and Chella sinks onto the couch, her head in her hands.
Bella runs into the living room, yapping and doing her play bow until she sees the tears and stops short, like she senses Marchella’s pain. Her barks turn to soft whimpers and she hops up onto the sofa and lays her head in Chella’s lap, just like she did to me earlier.
A lump swells in my throat as I watch Chella pick up Bella and hug her tight against her chest. The dog doesn’t even try to squirm or lick her tears. She just stays still, as if she knows it’s exactly what Chella needs at this moment.
Ray and Dante come into the apartment a little while later and I nod toward the office to give Chella some privacy. Ray pauses as Dante goes down the hallway. He looks at me, scrubbing a hand down the front of his face.
“Boss, look, I wanna apol—” he starts, but I hold up a hand.
“Stop,” I say. “You don’t need to apologize. I respect what you did and why you did it.”
“I shouldn’t have gone over your head like that. I didn’t trust Frankie and I was afraid shit was gonna come down on you.”
“Which it did,” I mutter. “My fault.”
“You, Matteo, Dante — I’d do anything for your family. You’ve always taken care of me.”
“And by going to Matteo, you took care of me,” I say, clapping him on the shoulder. “You showed up when I needed you, Ray. That’s what matters to me.” I lean closer, lowering my voice. “But here’s the thing about second chances. If you fuck around again, I’ll kill ya.”
His eyes widen and he recoils slightly and I let out a chuckle at the stricken look on his face.
He relaxes his shoulders and smiles.
I wink at him. “So long as we’re on the same page.”
I shove him toward the office and close the door once we’re all inside.
Dante is already on the phone with the cleaners. The benefit to my space is that it’s secluded, so having Frankie’s body handled won’t raise eyebrows because there aren’t any around to raise. He hangs up a minute later and folds his arms over his chest.
“Are the Russians gone?” I ask.
They look at each other and nod.
“For now,” Dante grumbles with a shake of his head. “They aren’t happy that you kept a trophy.”
“Well, they’re gonna have to deal with it,” I growl. “Unless they want us to bring hell to their doorstep in the armpit of Brooklyn.”
“Nobody is looking for a battle, not over Frankie Amante. But the first chance they get to retaliate, you know they’ll take it. They left things alone tonight, but they wanna be made whole, too. Boris is pissed as hell that you cut him down in front of his guys, and that I sent him packing with his dick between his legs. He’s gonna be back, Romo.”
“Yeah,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck. “Well, it looks like we need to do a better job of building up our alliances here in the city.”
“Or,” Dante says. “You know, maybe you stop fucking shit up and creating new enemies. Just a thought.”
I give him a punch. “Maybe you need to go back to whatever far-off land you came from and wait for your next hit.”
Dante snickers. “Might be you. Just saying. There’s gotta be a decent bounty on your ass in some country, Romo.”
“Millions,” I say with a wink. “Don’t do it for anything less.”