Chapter Forty-Two
Blaze
My throat had a lump in it, and my chest ached with grief that I could already feel, even if I couldn’t pinpoint where the loss was going to come from.
The Valentino Mafia.
The name had haunted me my whole life. The very words sent my mother into a nervous breakdown, and now I knew why. There were thirty men lining a row of black sedans along the cemetery. A long limo sat behind the first two, and a man in a sharp suit stood outside, holding the door open in wait.
Joplin extended her arm, gesturing toward the interior and Donnie climbed in first. May followed, and I stood glaring at her for a moment.
“I can’t fucking believe you,” I whispered.
“You’ll learn to. Get in.” She cocked her head, urging me onward.
I sighed and slid into the vehicle. There was a fucking body in my back yard, I had an ankle monitor on. There was no good outcome.
I knew I was fucked, but I hadn’t been worried about the situation the way I should have been. I’d clung to a false sense of security when I saw Joplin. The man sitting across from me stripped all of that away with a simple once over. His dark gaze started at my shoes and climbed, his lip curling more prominently with every inch he took in, shifting the toothpick that dangled across his lower lip.
His eyes were the coldest shade of blue I’d ever seen, and they pierced my awareness in a way that instantly made me feel like prey. Sitting in such close proximity with those pale daggers anchored to me was unsettling to say the least.
“The husband of the one who just murdered my niece.” He said it so calmly and quietly, that I questioned whether I’d imagined the Italian accent splitting the air.
He removed all doubt when his gaze slid to Mayhem, and he blinked once. “The son of the woman who killed my brother.”
“A shame he didn’t die slower,” May returned, in the same conversational tone.
My stomach flopped, and I dry heaved. When I composed myself, the mobster was staring at me like I was a lesser species again.
He tsked and his attention slid to Donnie. He gave him the same slow once over that he had me. This time, his lips slowly hinted toward a smile, and his hand slid to the thigh of his expensive-looking navy slacks.
“Where do you find friends like this?”
Donnie’s lips parted, and the way his chest expanded, I thought he was about to quip back at him like May did and sign all our death warrants, but he just gave an apologetic shake of his head and cleared his throat.
The man made a pleased sound and sat back, drawing one ankle up to rest on a knee. It gave us all a peek at his crisp white dress socks and a tiny gold chain.
“Who are you again?” He focused on Donnie once more.
Donnie looked toward Joplin, when she offered no help, he spoke up, “I don’t think I caught your name, either.”
The mobster leaned forward only to hold out a hand that bid patience, “I’ve been telling them for years, they need a herald to go in advance of my presence and give my formal introductions, but they tell me I’m not important enough for such displays.”
He made a dismissive, though wet, clicking sound with his mouth and sat back like it was the biggest load of bullshit he’d heard in his life.
Joplin sat up and waved her arms toward the man like she was suddenly auditioning for Wheel of Fortune, “Donovan, this is Damien Valentino. Damien, this is Donovan Miller.”
Donnie paled, he shoved his hand through hair in a slow, stressful-looking stroke and brought it back to do it again. Rather than run the course of that blond mess a second time, he parked his elbow on the window’s ledge and turned his face into the palm of his hand. His jaw tensed and I could tell he was struggling.
“Donovan,” Damien mused, sampling his name. “Not Lug Nut or Parasite? How did you gain enough favor to get a respectable name?”
The car slowed, and I realized May was staring Damien down with open animosity. I bumped his elbow, drawing his attention away momentarily.
The door opened and Joplin exited the car first.
“Gentlemen,” Damien, waved.
I followed Joplin out and paused, my gaze climbing the walls of what looked like a warehouse. When I turned, I saw a small airplane in the back and realized what it was.
“Damien needs a word.” Joplin announced, before moving off toward the airplane.
“Indeed,” Damien mused, before cocking his gun.
Donnie exhaled and shifted. In my head I did a basic math equation. May would charge him. He was the threat and the hot-headed one, which meant he would be the first target, I’d have a fraction of a second to get that fucking gun out of his hand…
What then?
The sound of the other vehicles rolling up ruined any hope of getting away.
“I don’t like to spend unnecessary time when I want answers. So, let's speed things up a bit, and get on with it, shall we?” Damien asked, looking around like he honestly expected objections. “Good. Take your clothes off.”
“Yeah. No,” May scoffed.
Damien raised his weapon and Donnie stepped in front of May.
“Do it, asshole,” Donnie hissed over his shoulder.
“Man, fuck that,” May started getting loud.
“Do not make me go home and tell Trista something has happened to you,” He hissed through clenched teeth.
May snorted and hesitantly started peeling his clothes off. Damien glanced toward me, and I took a deep breath and followed suit.
Once he had us all naked, I started to appreciate each breath a little more, certain my last would come at any minute. I glanced up and Damien was staring at me.
“Who is the heir?” he folded his hands in a patience stance, the gun pointing absently at the ground.
I looked at Donnie and May, clueless as to what he meant. The lights in the distance shut off. A few moments later the next row went dark. The shadows started to grow around us, until someone shot out of them and shoved Donnie to his knees. He landed hard, a startled cry coming from him as he flew.
“Who?” someone barked from behind me.
May dropped to his knees proactively and I slowly followed suit.
”Which one of you is the heir of the Steel Disciples? I won’t ask again, boys.” Damien checked his watch like he was bored.
A taunting laugh started to my right and my heart sank. Damien rounded on Mayhem like he’d been dying for a chance to make an example out of something, I could see it in his eyes.
“You think you’re clever?” Damien asked, his accent flaring.
“I think you got rejected last night and since your dick didn’t get stroked, now you’d like to substitute your ego.”
Damien made a muted sound that never developed into a laugh.
“I like this one,” he announced, using his gun to gesture to Mayhem.
“Is that what your daddy used to tell you?” May pressed.
“My father?” Damien, canted his head, “He was a soulless fuck that could’ve left you blubbering and questioning your faith without effort.”
“A man of true talents,” May mocked, his tone getting more disrespectful with every passing minute.
I inwardly cursed him. It was like he was incapable of shutting his fucking mouth, even to the benefit of his own survival.
Damien leaned in, placing a hand on May’s chest, “And yours was–?”
“I’m the Steel Heir,” Donnie blurted out, cutting him off.
Damien’s attention snapped to him. He stood with his hand on May for what felt like an eternity, his gaze locked on Donnie. He took his time walking toward him and came in close, like he meant to share a secret, but instead of his lips moving he pointedly sniffed at Donnie. Almost intimately.
“You’re something, that’s for sure,” Damien seductively purred.
“I’m the last thing you’ll ever see and the only name that will lay on the lips of your descendants,” Donnie quietly returned.
My heart dropped to my asshole. Damien’s blue eyes sparked. I wasn’t sure what it was. He might have been impressed a little, but one thing was for sure– He was openly lusting for my brother-in-law.
“You’re not like them.” Damien stood to Donnie’s left but reached past his face to the opposite side and traced the contours of his jaw. “Take him to my plane. He’ll do.”
Damien turned and disappeared into the shadows in the direction I thought Joplin had gone.
“Wait!” I yelled, but as I broke into motion, several men came from the shadows and grabbed Donnie. “Hey!”
“Mother fucker!” May exploded.
Damien charged out of the shadows, “Which one of you is the son of a federal agent?”
That was it.
The moment I’d been counting down to.
“Is that the best fuckin’ reason you can find to kill me?” I looked dead at him, unwilling to cower anymore, “You killed my fucking father.”
“Your father died in an unfortunate accident, nephew,” Joplin spoke up.
She stepped from the shadows, and addressed me, but she was staring hauntingly at Mayhem. Her heels clicked with precision as she prowled across the opening toward him.
“What is your name?” she demanded.
They were gawking at each other like two caged animals, it made my spine tingle to witness it.
“Damien, get my nephew some clothes. Don’t be filthy.” she commanded, without bothering to glance my way.
Damien smirked and held a hand out. Something was passed to him, and he fluffed out a bathrobe and walked toward me with it held up like he meant to dress me. I jerked it from his hands and wrapped up in it.
“Apologies, my queen.” Damien glanced toward Joplin and May and licked his lips.
“Mayhem,” He answered her after a considerable time.
She reached out longingly for his chest, only to pause, “I was your stepmother for like five minutes.”
She jerked her hand away with a grunt and turned back to the shadows.
“Come, Damien.”
“Joplin, stop!” I called. “Joplin! You can’t fucking take him.”
We started after them and were instantly met by their armed associates again.
We wrestled with some of them, but there were so many it was impossible for us to get past. We did our damnedest until we heard the helicopter outside.
“Shit, May, come on.” I grabbed at his arm, and they let me tug him away.
We shuffled into our clothes and ran before they changed their minds. I didn’t know where we were. I didn’t know how we were going to get back, and I didn’t know how I was going to tell my wife that the same mob that killed her mother, had just taken her brother.
The End