28. Vinnie
After hanging up with Sly, I’m about to toss the phone on my bed to continue packing my closet, when it begins to ring.
Seeing that it’s Luciano, I answer it quickly, propping the device between my shoulder and ear. “Hey!”
“Hey. I just wanted to give you the heads-up that Sullivan Rochester may end up hitting on Cecilia at some point tonight, and I know she’s been going through a lot on her end, so I figured I’d warn you. You can do what you want with that information.”
“Oh goodness. Okay, thanks. I’ll let her know to ignore his advances. She’s been in such a bad headspace lately, though. Maybe his humor will cheer her up.”
Cecilia has been exploring her options on becoming a mom and it hasn’t been an easy road so far. If it’s not the adoption agencies or the sperm banks giving her hoops to jump through, it’s her own guilt eating at her for finally deciding to do this alone.
“Maybe,” Luciano agrees. Through the phone, papers rustle as he multitasks at work.
“Have you spoken to Joseph since he stormed out last week?”
“Not one word. I guess he hasn’t been showing up to work this week either. No one’s heard from him.”
Feeling dizzy, I sit down on the edge of my bed. I want to give my brother the benefit of the doubt, but a nagging feeling in my stomach rolls around like a marble. “Maybe he’s grieving.”
“Mr. Paladino, you have a call on line two,” my brother’s secretary pages through his phone’s speaker system, and he groans.
“I have to go. I’ll see you tonight, although I’m still not sure how I ended up in this odd friend group situation.”
Laughing, I tell him, “That’s what happens when you decide to help the good guys.”
“Hmm, I’ll have to consider that for next time. Didn’t realize helping my sister not marry a psycho would result in me having the merry band of misfits blowing up my phone’s messages twenty-four-seven.”
His description of their group chat makes me laugh harder. “I’ll see you tonight.”
“See ya,” he says, and then hangs up the phone.
Before I set my phone down on my bureau, I send a quick message to Ross, letting him know I’ll be ready in five to go to the office, then I walk into the bathroom to see if I’ve left anything behind. Butterflies swirl in my stomach as I glance at the trash can, suppressing a small smile before I move back into my bedroom and set the last remaining bit of clothing into the open box.
I give a final glance to the room around me, feeling bittersweet about this transition. Tears start to line my bottom lashes and I quickly wipe them away, standing to go grab my purse. As I leave the room, I flip the switch down and shut the door behind me.
Where one door closes, another one opens, and this time the door opening is to my happily ever after.
When the elevator doors open to the parking garage, I’m not surprised to find the black town car waiting for me. What is unusual, though, is that Ross isn’t standing there to greet me, but instead, the back passenger door is wide open.
Walking around to the rear, I check the license plate—it is my car. I’m about to walk to the driver”s side to look through the window when it rolls down and Ross’ hand pops out and waves.
Maybe he’s on the phone.
Feeling better, I go back to the passenger side and climb in, pulling the door closed behind me. Immediately, the car begins to move and I settle into the seat and think about the things I need to accomplish while at work.
We’re pulling onto the street before my seatbelt is even clicked into place.
Traffic is heavy, so I pull my purse into my lap to grab my phone so I can call Cecilia and warn her about what Luciano said, only to come up empty. Thinking back, I realize I sat my phone on the bureau and never grabbed it on my way out.
We’re only a few blocks away—I’ll just ask Ross to turn around. Reaching to lower the partition, my heart clenches when it doesn’t move.
I try again, and when the button does nothing, my heart drops. Blowing out an unsteady breath, I think about how Ross wasn’t waiting for me outside of the car like he usually does, and how I didn’t actually see him—just his hand—as he waved through the window.
“Ross!” I yell, unbuckling my seatbelt to move closer to the partition. “Ross! Lower the partition, please!”
I can’t hear anything in the front, and I realize he probably can’t hear me either. Father does value privacy, and obviously wasn’t kidding when he said the back of the town cars are soundproof.
Still, I beat my fist against it, thinking if he can’t hear me, maybe he’ll see the movement. I hit the barrier repeatedly until my hand begins to
hurt, before forcing myself to stop. Scooting backward, I get back in my seat and try the button one more time, and the panic sets in when the button continues to do nothing.
Looking out the window, I realize we’re going in the opposite direction of my office building, and there’s no longer any doubt in my mind that something isn’t right.
Dread builds inside me as I watch the street pass by, driving further from where we should be going. I white-knuckle my purse and the second the car rolls to a stop at a red light, I pull open the door of the car, ready to dive out if I have to.
But it doesn’t budge.
“Shit!” I yell, realizing the child safety locks have been flipped.
Then the tears come.
Slow, steady streams roll down my cheeks. All I can do is watch out the window and try to figure out where we may be going, who might be driving, and why. I pray to God that it is Ross, and that he noticed something wrong and is taking me somewhere safe, but my instincts tell me otherwise.
And I’m a sitting duck. No cell phone, no way to escape the car unless I fling myself from the window.
My tears fall harder as I think of Sly, and how he has no idea anything is wrong. I told him I’d be home around three-thirty, but that’s still hours away. Until then, no one will know I’m gone.
A sob racks through me, and I lean my face into my hands, trying to calm myself so I can think logically, but it’s no use.
We drive for maybe another fifteen minutes before the car comes to an abrupt stop. As it turns off, my heart threatens to explode from my chest with fear of the unknown. Questions race through my mind as bile makes its way up my throat. I press my hands on my stomach and pray for the strength of whatever’s to come.
I can’t even bring myself to look out the window, too scared to take my eyes off the partition.
When it begins to roll down, I hold my breath.
All the air leaves my lungs in a strong whoosh as Ross comes into view, along with my brother in the passenger seat. His body is angled toward him, and a chill runs down my spine. “Joseph?”
“Hiya, sis. Beautiful day for a drive, isn’t it? Thanks for the lift, Ross.”
“Vinnie, I’m so sor—” but he never finishes his sentence. A gunshot pierces through him and I scream, watching as his lifeless head bounces against the glass window. I keep screaming, unable to stop, and unable to tear my eyes from my driver’s body.
“SHUT UP,” Joseph yells, turning his head to stare at me. I only do when he turns the gun to me and cocks it. “Get out of the car,” he demands, then laughs. It sounds foreign and not at all like his normal laugh. “Oh wait, you can’t. I guess I have to pretend to be your new chauffeur and open the door for you.”
His door slams shut behind him and not even a second later, mine yanks open and his hand reaches in, grabbing onto my arm tightly as he pulls me out. Stumbling, I hardly catch myself from crashing to the ground, but my brother acts like he doesn’t notice.
The air smells heavily of saltwater and metal, and as I look around, I realize we’re at the docks.
“Stop crying,” he orders through clenched teeth, but I couldn’t stop if I tried. I’m too scared.
With the gun in one hand, he grips my bicep and roughly leads me to a warehouse a few yards away, only stopping long enough to stow his weapon in the back of his pants to unlock the door.
I didn’t even know he owned a gun, but I shouldn’t be surprised, given the nature of Father’s business.
When we enter the warehouse, I’m immediately hit with the scent of old, rotting fish, and a strong wave of nausea rolls through my stomach.
I can barely keep up with my brother as he pulls me over to a metal chair and shoves me into it. I never see him procure any rope, but the next thing I know, my wrists are tied to the chair behind my back.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask through a fresh wave of tears.
“You fucking know why,” he seethes, raking his hand through his hair as he paces in front of me.
Instinctually, I pull against the ropes to check their strength, and feel a tinge of defeat when they don’t budge.
“You killed Ross,” I press, even though I know I shouldn’t. I’m in danger—he’s proven that, but still, my heart is cracking in two for the man in front of me. My brother, who isn’t even a shell of himself at this point. Whispering, I ask, “How could you kill him, Joey?”
“DON’T FUCKING CALL ME JOEY!” he screams, moving at me so quickly I flinch and slam my eyes shut, reading myself for the blow.
But it doesn’t come.
When I open my eyes, he’s squatting down in front of me, his eyes cold and vacant. “This will go one of two ways, baby sister. Either you’re leaving here alive and your precious husband will be dead, or vice versa. Either way, someone is going to pay for August’s death. A Lucchetti did this, and I intend on getting retribution in the form of an eye for an eye. Sucks that you share the last name now. It might be your blood that runs, sis.”
“You wouldn’t,” I cry through a strangled breath.
“Oh, I would,” he remarks, then gives me his back and walks away, his boisterous laugh echoing mechanically off the walls of the empty warehouse.