Chapter 30 Nicky
NICKY
Anger like I’ve never felt before courses through me. Seeing that man hit Rachel triggers something inside me. Something feral, untamed, and frightening. The need to protect my sister, the one person besides my twin who has always taken care of me, is overwhelming.
Ricky has always been the extroverted one. The one who speaks up and takes control. I’ve been content to let him lead while I happily follow along with whatever he wants to do. I’m his wingman, his back up, but in this moment, I want to take charge. I need to do something.
I lunge forward intent on beating the asshole into the ground, but my father grabs my arm, jerking so hard it feels like he’s dislocated my shoulder. Ricky makes a move, too, but Rico grabs him.
“Fuck off!” Ricky yells, twisting out of his hold and again starts toward Rachel, but it’s no use. Rico overpowers, him wrapping both arms around Ricky’s middle, pinning his arms to his sides. He drags Ricky to the vehicle and shoves him in the back passenger side door.
“Get in the damn car,” my father growls, shoving me from behind and making me stumble into the vehicle. My fists clench at my sides as I contemplate punching the bastard in the throat, but with his henchman at his side, it would be pointless.
Even if I could beat down the man I’ve been terrified of all my life, Rico would take me out before Ricky and I could escape. Now isn’t the time, so I slide into the back seat next to my brother like the good little boy my father expects me to be.
Your time is coming, old man. It might not be today, but I will save my siblings and end you once and for all.
Hours later, the private jet touches down at Chicago Executive Airport.
A black Escalade is waiting on the tarmac.
A man, who I presume to be our driver, is leaning against the hood.
His Armani suit is stretched tight across his arms that are casually crossed over his abdomen.
He straightens up as we approach, and his coat shifts to reveal a chest holster, the butt of his pistol flashing in the fading sunlight.
Another reminder of who our father is at his core. A fucking mob boss.
Our father leads us toward the waiting SUV. The wind whips around us buffeting us with drops of rain. The sky is darkening rapidly from menacing storm clouds moving in from the northwest. A flash of lightening streaks across the clouds followed by the boom of thunder.
“Good evening, Mr. Vena,” the driver greets, moving to open the back passenger side door. “Looks like we’ll be getting some rain soon.” Our father lifts his face toward the sky assessing the clouds in much the same way he’d assessed Ricky and I when he’d first laid eyes on us.
“It will hold off until we arrive at the mansion,” Father declares as if he’s fucking God and can control the damned weather by his words alone. I glance at Ricky who rolls his eyes, obviously thinking the same thing.
A limo appears around the corner of the hanger, moving rapidly toward us. Beside me, father tenses, and his hand grasps his weapon, pulling it from its holster. Our driver places his hand on the butt of his gun but doesn’t draw it just yet. His dark eyes shrewdly assessing the new arrival.
The limo pulls up so that it is parallel to us. The back driver’s side window lowers slowly, revealing a gray-haired man with a clean-shaven face. My father’s spine snaps straight, and his shoulders tense. It occurs to me that my father is afraid of this man. Who the fuck is he?
The man appears to be in his seventies, but he doesn’t look frail or even elderly for that matter. His eyes are shrewd and calculating as they move over us one by one. What is he doing here? Is he father’s ally? Or his enemy?
“Vena,” the old man says, at last. His eyes focus on our father. “We need to have a word.” Father gives a single nod, then he turns to the man who’d been waiting for us to arrive.
“Take them home,” he commands. “Mario will see to them until I return.”
“Yes, sir,” the driver agrees before grasping both Ricky and I by an arm and herding us to the backseat of the SUV. Father walks around the limo and slides into the back with the old man.
“I hear you’ve been scheming behind my back, Reginald,” the old man accuses. The window begins to rise as the limo pulls away, and I can’t keep from staring, my curiosity getting the better of me.
The old man meets my gaze just before the blacked-out window rises too high for me to see him. A shiver runs down my spine as I look into those black, soulless eyes. Again I wonder what he wants with our father.
“Get in!” the driver grumbles as he shoves us toward the SUV. “We don’t have all day for you two to be daydreaming.” Ricky opens the back door and climbs inside, scooting over to make room for me to follow him.
The moment the door slams shut Ricky turns to me. “We have to get the fuck out of here!” he whisper-shouts. “We have to find our way back to Virginia Beach and the Robertson brothers. They’re the only ones who can help us find Rachel.”
I nod my agreement but don’t say a word.
The driver is opening his door, and I don’t want him becoming suspicious.
The only way we’re getting out of this is to catch him off guard, and it will have to be before we reach the mansion.
Otherwise we are royally fucked. Once we are behind those walls, it will take an act of God to get us out of there again.
Fifteen minutes later, we are making our way through the city. It’s been over six years since we’ve been here, yet I recognize some of the stores we’re passing. I spare a glance at Ricky. Ever so subtlety, he meets my gaze in a side-eye glance, and he gives a slight nod of his head.
We’ve always been able to practically read each other’s mind.
In two blocks, we’ll be near our old karate studio.
We know the neighborhood like the backs of our hands.
We shouldn’t have any trouble navigating it, unless it’s gone through major changes in the last six years, which I highly doubt.
There aren’t any signs of new construction in the area.
It’s the same old stores and dirty streets.
The SUV rolls to a stop at the light, the rhythmic clicking of the turn signal indicating the driver’s intention to make a left turn.
The timing has to just right in order for us to break free without getting caught.
Ricky has been inching closer to me a little at a time, and I’ve been doing the same toward the door.
My right ass cheek is basically hanging off the seat and pressing against the armrest on the door.
I can just see the light for the cross street in front of us.
I watch as it changes from green to yellow.
My left leg nudges Ricky, letting him know to get ready, my right hand already on the door handle.
I count one, two, three. A beat before the light changes, I open the back door, thankful the driver hadn’t engaged the child locks.
The moment I pull on the handle, the interior lights come on and the door open alarm begins to ding, but I’m already out the door with Ricky close on my heels.
“What the fuck?” the driver exclaims before yelling, “Get your asses back here!” Ricky and I are already halfway down the block, dodging people on the crowded street.
I glance over my shoulder as we reach the entrance to an alley.
The driver is half out his door standing on the side rail.
His curses can barely be heard over the noise of the city.
Cars horns blare, and other driver’s curses drown out our driver.
The cars advance and force the SUV to go with the flow of traffic.
“We made it!” Ricky exclaims as I turn to face him. “Now we have to get out of sight so when he doubles back he won’t be able to find us.” I nod my agreement, and we head down the alley to the back door of a theater that six years ago was always unlocked.
With a whispered prayer, I grab the door knob that thankfully turns easily in my hand. Ricky follows me inside. We pause, allowing our eyes to adjust to the darkness in the narrow hallway. Voices drift our way from the control room up the stairs to our right.
When our eyes have adjusted enough to make out our surroundings, we turn left and head for a door a few feet ahead on the right.
It leads to one of the six viewing rooms. Someone yells a curse as we open the door and slip inside.
No doubt we’ve disturbed their favorite scene of the old movie that’s playing on the screen.
Bending at the waist, we scurry across the theater, trying to stay under the screen. More shouts erupt as we inadvertently cast shadows over the screen. In seconds, we’ve reached the other side. Turning left, we run up the stairs that will lead to the main hall of the movie plaza.
The lighting in this hall is blinding after being in the darkened theater, but my eyes quickly acclimate to the brighter lights.
We turn right, running to the end of the hall, which leads to another exterior door.
Ricky cracks the door open and peers out.
A short pause and he pokes his head around the door to check the other direction.
“The coast is clear for now,” he says over his shoulder, “let’s go.
” He’s out the door and moving quickly down the alley to a fire escape ladder.
He jumps, grabbing a rope hanging from the bottom rung.
It takes him two tries to get it to cooperate.
The expandable ladder clatters as it descends, the metal-on-metal sound echoing down the alley.
“Damn, Ricky!” I exclaim, turning my head right and left looking for anyone who might’ve heard the loud sound. “You’re going to get us caught.” He gives me a glare, then an eye roll before beginning to climb the metal ladder.
“How the hell else do you expect us to get up the ladder, dumbass?” he questions. “I can’t help it the damn thing is older than dirt and rusted.” He is right, and I know that, but I really, really don’t want to get caught. Who knows what our father will do when he finds out we’ve escaped.
The entire way here from Virginia Beach, after his henchmen had busted into Jason’s home and taken us at gun point, he’d gone on and on about how we are his true heirs.
He’d wanted to know why we hadn’t called him and told him where we were so he could get us back.
He’d been furious when we’d let him know we hadn’t wanted him to know where we were.
“What are you saying?” Father demands, angrily, his deep voice sending a shiver down my spine.
He’s going to kill us when he realizes we don’t want to be his heirs.
Ricky and I share a quick look, and like always before, Ricky answers him.
I’ve probably said less than ten words to my father in my entire life.
I’m fairly certain he thinks I’m mute and mentally delayed, which is fine by me. The less he expects from me the better.
“We aren’t your heirs,” Ricky explains. “We don’t want to be part of the fucking mob…
Father.” Ricky draws out the term dripping with sarcasm.
We don’t want to call him by any endearment, but we’ve both been beaten enough times for not showing the ‘proper’ respect to know better than to not say it.
I tense waiting for father to dole out the punishment for Ricky’s tone.
The rage on Father’s face is undeniable, but he surprises me by not raising a hand to either of us. In the past, he’d beat me when Ricky got out of line. Father knew it was the quickest way to get Ricky to comply with whatever he wanted.
Back then Ricky could take a lot more physical and mental punishment than I could, and Father knew neither of us liked seeing the other one hurt. He often used me to control Ricky, something for which both of us have hated him.
The time spent with the Robertsons has made me stronger, both physically and mentally. I believe I can take whatever Father tries to throw at us, but I’d rather not test the theory.
“You say that now,” Father says, “but in time, you’ll change your mind. I blame your half-sister’s influence from the last six years while she’s held you hostage. That bitch will learn some respect when Caprice gets ahold of her.”
The blood freezes in my veins hearing that the man who had Rachel is one of Caprice’s henchmen. “You handed her over to Nicolai Caprice?” I demand, forgetting to be the docile one momentarily.
“No, but apparently your Uncle Lawrence did.” Father chuckles humorlessly. “I told him to kill her for her defiance, but Lawrence is a greedy motherfucker. He saw an opportunity to gain an advantage by helping Caprice.
“Little does he know Caprice has no honor. He won’t give Lawrence the time of day, much less help with his small-time operation. I should punish him for his insubordination.”
Father pauses, as if making a mental note to do just that before continuing, “But Rachel will suffer much more in Caprice’s hands than dying by my orders.
Perhaps I should thank Lawrence the next time I see him.
” Father laughs again. This time with actual enjoyment.
It takes everything I have to keep the nausea at bay.
“Hey, airhead!” Ricky exclaims, pulling me out of the memory. “Are you coming or not?” I look up to see he’s halfway up the fire escape ladder. “We need to get somewhere safe before we’re caught.”
With a nod of my head, I grab the bottom rung and begin to climb, following him up to our old hideout.
If luck is on our side, no one has discovered it over the last six years, and all of our belongings will still be there.
We will be able to contact Rosco or one of the other Robertsons.
If it isn’t and our things are gone, then we’re fucked, and I don’t know what we’ll do.