Chapter 5
Francesca
“Would you open it already?” Matt’s pressing tone was unmasked. He couldn’t hold back the apprehension that knit his brows together and balled his fists, even if he tried.
Max had brought the note to my office, soon trailed by Mike, Jimmy, and James. The tension in the room was so thick it was as if they expected one of the Yakuza men to be neatly folded inside the envelope, just ready to jump out and attack us as soon as I opened it.
I was still drenched in cum, my head still hazy from lust, and yet here I was, holding what seemed like a ticking bomb in my hands.
I ripped the envelope open, the same logo printed on the back. It was a cruel irony that Hiro could find us without effort while Matt had run the world and beyond only to turn out empty-handed, his gun still loaded with the bullet carved with Hiro’s name.
I’d watched him scrape at the thing so many times it would soon go right through to the other side.
I swallowed hard as I read it before doing it again, out loud, in the steadiest of voices. It was fake stability, though.
“Promises are to be kept, delayed as they might be. Soon.”
“Well, that was fucking vague!” Matt grunted, his nose flaring as he held his hand out to see the note for himself.
I was internally shaking. What was once fear turned into a rage that shook me from within.
“Don’t we have enough on our plates already?” I said, my frustration seeping into my voice as I handed the note over to Matt. I couldn’t keep my thoughts bottled up. I was fed up with all of this.
Why on earth did some random person think he could take me? And to what avail?
A long while had passed since I last received one of these. I thought maybe they had forgotten about me or that whatever sick joke this was had finally grown old.
I guess not.
“The note was hand-delivered by a kid here to the club. Same MO as the very first note you got.” Max said as an eerie silence fell between these walls once again.
“This one has your name on the envelope. Francesca Amato. Not Battaglia… Amato.” Matt noticed as he twisted and turned the damn thing between his fingers as if something else could miraculously appear. Something that would point out the culprit. But, of course, there was nothing beyond the obvious.
“Everyone knows you’re a Battaglia now. Calling you Amato isn’t random,” Max started, “Could this have followed you from Detroit? None of the notes ever mentioned Matt.”
“But I’ve never had any connection to the Yakuza. The only person I know linked to them is Jackson, and even that is new to me.” Frustration was running wild in my blood. If there really was no connection to Matt and his business, this was even more of a mystery to me. Matt was the one with the planned-out vengeance, with his thirst to balance the scales and make Hiro pay for killing his grandfather.
The five men stood there staring at me, waiting for me to explode, break down, or grow a second damn head. They needed a reaction from me, but I had none to give. I didn’t know how to because I simply couldn’t understand these damn notes.
I was just so fed up with all of this that I was ready to straight up dismiss it before Matt broke the silence.
“Mike, cancel our little field trip,” Matt almost growled. “We’re staying put for now. We can get back on it in a couple of days.”
“Hum… Don Battaglia? You might want to take this phone call before deciding anything.” James said, handing Matt the phone. “It’s Jackson.”
“Jackson wasn’t supposed to reach out unless he had a very strong reason to.” Matt’s features were laced with concern as he took the phone from James’ hand and placed it on speaker on top of the desk. The same exact one that had been bearing my weight and his lust just a few minutes ago.
“Jackson, got you on speaker. Why are you calling?”
“I need to tip you off. The DEA is planning a raid tomorrow night on that warehouse you located. You can’t be there.” Silence filled the room as everyone took in his words, and by the looks on their faces, they understood much more than what I did from that statement. “Do you hear me? Stay clear! They will bust you if you are anywhere near it. Stay put, let me handle it.”
“Fine, Watson!” Matt finally replied before hanging up, but I knew that tone far too well. He intended to do the exact opposite. “Like hell, I will!” He said, confirming what I already knew.
Everything changed again in nothing but a split second.
Matt was back to calm, dark, and calculating. This was full-on Don Battaglia in the room now, burying my husband deeply under shades of murk that scared even the most wicked of demons.
He slowly stalked to the drink cart in the corner of the office, pouring a glass of his favorite Macallan, taking his damn time and leaving everyone else in complete suspense, waiting for what exactly his words would entail.
“We go tonight.” He finally said, downing the whole drink in one single gulp, “There’s a chance Hiro is there, this might be my only fucking chance to get to him. Get everything ready.”
The order was given, and soon enough, all four of the Battaglia soldati had cleared the room. I waited for the moment the door closed behind the last one before I spoke, not reeling back.
“Really? I mean… really, Matt? Jackson just told you that the damn DEA was going to raid the fucking place, and you just want to ride straight into it? Do you really think they’ll simply post bail if they catch you?” My anger fused with concern as I pointed out how stupid of a plan this was. How he couldn’t see the trap was beyond me. “Are you that blind that you can’t see this will go south so fast you won’t even know which way is up?”
“I have to do this, Francesca. That warehouse is filled to the fucking roof with coke.”
“And how is that your problem?” I was angry at his recklessness. He seemed to not think straight when the name Hiro Naoki was mentioned, and I feared what could happen if he carried down this path. “Do you change clothes in a fucking phone booth now, too? I had no idea you aspired to be a hero.”
Matt sauntered steadily towards me, holding my shoulders tightly in a failed attempt to reassure me as he spoke, his voice dropping to the depths of hell. “I’m no hero, Gattina. Heroes don’t dream of butchering their enemies like I do. Of having their blood dripping down my fingers after I’ve torn his heart out of his fucking chest. It’s so close I can almost taste it, Francesca.”
“It’s not that simple and you know it. It’s clear that Hiro isn’t a rookie.”
“We will be fine. Don’t you trust Jackson?” I knew this was a goad. He wanted to point out that even I had my reservations when the stakes were this high.
But I didn’t. Jackson didn’t control the whole force. He could only do what he had just done. Warn us off. So it wasn’t about my trust in the man he so desperately wanted to blame for everything.
“I do, but–”
“You heard him. The raid is not until tomorrow.” Matt tried to reason, but I couldn’t see any reason in this nonsense. “Tonight, we get our chance to balance the fucking universe.”
“The place will be under tight surveillance, Matt! How do you plan to escape that?”
“Don’t worry, Baby. I know what I’m doing.” Without further discussion, Matt planted a kiss on the top of my head and left the office, leaving me to drown in the darkness he left behind.
Why the hell was Matt playing reckless vigilante now? It was not our place to rid the city of chaos and crime.
Fuck, we were chaos and crime!
Why was he jeopardizing everything, including his life, freedom, and safety? Is it for the thrill? The excitement? I mean, if you’re looking for excitement in your life, just make popcorn without a fucking lid and you’re set. Don’t go running into hell expecting to come back with your soul intact.
This was just reckless stupidity.
My phone buzzed me out of my thoughts, and I gladly welcomed the distraction because right now, there was nothing I could do to sway Matt off his determined path.
He was right. I was him, and he was me. It just meant he was as stubborn as I am. No use fighting what was already written in fucking stone.
“Hi, Mom.” I almost sang into the phone, trying to hide all the dark and eerie feelings running through me right now under that fake tone of voice. It had been over two weeks since we last spoke, and I missed hearing her. Familiarity could be a good refuge in a moment like this.
“Oh, my baby girl! How I missed that sweet voice. How are you doing, Love?”
“Fine, I think. And you?”
“I’m so happy. Tommy is back, safe and sound. He said he’s scheduled to be in New York next week.”
“Oh my God, Mom! That’s amazing news. I was so worried. I miss him so much.” For a brief moment, I was pulled from the direness of my current reality, rejoicing in knowing he was back and safe above all.
“You haven’t told Matt about him, have you?”
“No. But I should. I–”
“No, Francesca, you can’t!” She cut me off, “You know you can’t. We will all be in danger if you do.”
“I don’t like keeping things from him, Mom. And I trust him. I know he wouldn’t do anything to hurt him or us.” I argued, my heart twisting in my chest once again.
“It’s just best that no one knows, Love. Okay?”
“Okay.” I conceded for now, “But I will eventually have to tell him. I can’t keep this a secret forever.”
“The time will come one day, just not today. I just wanted to give you the big news. I’ll talk to you soon. Your brothers are coming over for dinner, so I have to get going. Don’t let it be so long before you call again, okay, my love?”
“Sure, Mom. Keep safe. Love you all.”
“We love you, too!” She ended the call, and I felt my heart being squeezed into a pulp. I missed them all so much, but Tommy… it’s like my heart was missing a piece.
Tommy was my protector, my guardian angel, my older brother.
My mother had been raped when she was only sixteen, and Tommy was the unforeseen blessing of that horrible memory of hers. She could have given him up for adoption, she could have resented him, she could have inadvertently blamed him for what she went through. Instead, she loved him with all her heart as she loved the rest of us. If not more.
She never kept it from us, especially me. She wanted to have me on high alert at all times so that I wouldn’t end up in her shoes someday, suffering what she suffered, the torment and pain that came after, the inability to trust again. Maybe that was why I was practically born with a gun in each hand.
Tommy wasn’t an Amato, he was a Borgia. That was my mother’s maiden name. The greatest proof that he wasn’t an Amato was that he was a Captain in the US Army, awarded a Silver Star for gallantry in action, enlisted the very second he turned eighteen.
He was the other side of our coin, and that just made me love him even more. He had always been my moral compass, but the army kept him away too long for him to sway me over to the path of righteousness.
Needless to say, we had to be secretive about it. We couldn’t let anyone from the big mafiosi family know about what he did and who he was. And just in case they did know, we kept our reunions as limited as possible and completely under the radar.
So the fewer people to know, the better. But not telling my husband about the man who held a large piece of my heart killed me. I wanted to share everything with Matt, especially my happiness, and Tommy was and always has been a great part of that.
I decided to shoot him a text, knowing he wouldn’t be able to reply, but he would when he got the chance. He always did.
“I heard you are coming to New York. Can’t wait to see you again. I miss and love you so much.”
My heart fluttered at the thought of him. It had been over a year since I last saw him, and I missed him more than words could express.
I buried my head in work for hours on end until my eyes were tired enough to give up. My shadow, Max, was already waiting for me on the couch in my office, half passed out.
It was past three a.m. when I finally caved and decided to head home. I was dreading the moment. Somehow, going back there today seemed lonelier, even though I’d been alone for months now. It just felt different.
The ride was silent, the gloom of what was happening in that warehouse weighing a ton on both of our shoulders. Still, neither of us wanted to address it. I was sure Max wanted to be there while I wanted them all here, cramped in this car with me, if need be.
“I’ll be okay,” I told Max as firmly as I could just outside my apartment door. We’d done this dance every night since Matt had been gone.
“I can stay if you want. The couch is comfy anyway.”
“No need. Go get a life.” I joked, trying to lighten the mood.
“At almost four in the morning? Right.” There was silence again as Max weighed his next words. “He’ll be okay.” He knew me, seeing right through my poor attempt to brush off the heavy mood that’s been following me around since Jackson called earlier. “He always is.”
Somehow, that still didn’t bring me any comfort. I felt Matt slipping away with every failed strike against Hiro. Still, I smiled, said my goodnights, and walked inside the empty space that would torment me through the night with Matt’s absence.
As soon as the door closed, I felt my stomach sink straight to its pit, standing as still as I could, listening to a strange noise that came from the room.
Someone was here.
I drew my gun, popping a bullet in the chamber before trying to tiptoe my way down the hallway, following the sound as my ears filled with the awareness of my own loud breathing and accelerated heart rate.
A sudden ring resonated intensely in my head as I got closer. It was the sound of deafening silence after a normal, noise-filled day.
This was it.
It was happening today.
I wasn’t afraid, I was expectant. Anxious to see who had the audacity to think he could just pull me from my life, no questions asked. They’d better be ready for a fight because I was not going down without one.
I was as ready as I would ever be. What would happen after I crossed that threshold would not be entirely out of my hands. I’ll kick and punch, scream and thrash, give as good as I’ve got. There was a fire of fury burning inside me at the mere thought of being dragged away from the life I loved. From the love of my life.
Times were definitely not easy, and I wasn’t the epitome of happiness at the moment, but I loved my life, I loved my job, and above all… I loved my husband.
Anyone who tried to steer me away from him was an enemy.
I held my breath just as I was about to storm into the room, stopping just as the noise of running water became clearer.
Everything in me eased at the sound. The smell of cigarette smoke hit me just as I opened the slightly ajar door, my gun now pointing directly at the skull of the naked man sitting in my bathtub.
Relief washed over me as I saw that perfect, tanned body, the rippled muscles bulging in tight masses all over his shoulders, the dark trail of ink down his arm.
This man was pure perfection.
Matt’s bloody clothes were scattered all over the floor, his holster and guns lying on top of the pile, a half-full bottle of whiskey dangling in his right hand while his arm hung from the tub that was still filling up with hot water.
Cigarettes and booze told me he was troubled. Deeply troubled. My anxiety spiked again, thinking about what could have gone wrong for him to come back in this state.
“I could have shot you again, you know?” I broke the almost silent atmosphere as I walked around our massive tub, finally looking into his pained eyes.
“I heard you put the key in the door.” His voice was a monochord, low and whispered, confirming he wasn’t in the mood for jokes or small talk. A large swig out of the whiskey bottle that overflowed down his chin, telling me there had been serious trouble.
“What happened?” I asked, my finger grazing the skin of the arm he dangled over the edge of the tub.
“I did what I went there to do.”
“There’s more to it. Tell me.”
Matt looked up at me, taking another huge gulp out of the bottle as if it was liquid courage, the right amount he needed to be able to reply or dismiss me altogether.
“Are you high?” I asked, trying to hold back the accusation my question naturally held. It didn't seem like Matt to do something like this.
“One of those motherfuckers tried to smother me with a bag drenched in coke.”
He stared into my eyes in silence, my soul feeling like he was reaching out to it, pulling me into a parallel reality where only the two of us existed.
“I had a twin brother.” It was a dry, factual sentence that made my head spin at that past tense he used to say those very few but deeply cutting words.
I could feel him fight back his feelings, fight back his tears and his anger. My heart sank into the pit of my stomach at the sight of my strong Matt displaying such a fragile side yet again.
“NOOOOOO. Not again. Please God, not again.”
Alison’s screams invaded my thoughts as I finally understood what they meant. They had all gone through the pain of deep loss before. A scar that hardly ever fully healed.
Matt’s head hung low as he struggled to continue or find the right words to say, probably the ones that would hurt less. It was like our hearts were physically connected. I could feel the sharp pain that emanated from his, striking mine to the point that drawing a single breath was near impossible.
He needed my strength to keep from falling apart as he shed another layer of his thick, impenetrable skin, allowing me to sink further into the depths of him.
Without a second thought, I kicked off my shoes and sank into the water, still fully dressed, ushering him to scoot forward so I could nest him in my arms.
I held him against me as tight as my small arms could around his enormous body. My hand ran through the wet strands of his hair, again and again, while the other rested on his chest, right above his heart. I felt him tense up just as he got ready to voice the painful truth.
I fed him all the love I had for him, hoping he would feel he wasn’t alone this time as he walked us through that dark valley where death, pain, and loss were a reality and not only a shadow.
“He died nine years ago.” His whole body reacted to the sound of his own words, tensing and shivering as he said them. A long pause followed. One that I couldn’t dare to interrupt. “He OD'd in our dorm in college. I’d been expelled already. It was Jackson who found him.”
Although the weight of that confession was now released, Matt didn’t feel any lighter. His strained voice and tensed muscles showed me as much. How could he? How could anyone?
That information shone such a bright light on his need to eradicate drugs from the city, on his palpable distaste every time he spoke about it, on his anger towards Hiro’s operation.
He did have a phone booth, after all. He just didn’t want the shining armor and praises of glory that came with it.
Why?
Guilt. That’s why.
Now I finally understood.