6. Nicu
6
NICU
I couldn’t get out of that room fast enough. A familiar need clawed in the back of my head. Go back. Finish what you started. Show her who’s in control.
A shudder rippled through me, my whole body on edge. Rolling my neck to get the tension to ease, I knew I needed some semblance of control to get my mind and body back on track. My fingers twitched as visions flooded my brain. Those defying amber eyes of hers, her not bending to my will immediately. Everything inside me demanded I claim back some of the power from that exchange with that woman.
That Romani. I was never one to believe in any of that superstitious voodoo shit, but something about this woman crawled underneath my skin.
“Fucking shit, this hurts! That fuckin asshole!”
Everything inside me went cold, telling myself I needed to keep my shit together; we were on a job and couldn’t fail. Smoothing down my clothes like I was smoothing down my soul, I reminded myself who I was and what I was here to do. It was not to play with that woman, but to get answers.
Ion winced, peeling off his coat and shirt. He threw the cabinet door open and pulled out the first aid kit. His sloppy use of the alcohol wipes, the loose wrapping job, everything he was doing was half ass and made my skin crawl, especially if it was a deep wound. He knew better.
I went to him, yanking his hand away from his side to see that it was just a flesh wound; he would heal just fine soon enough. Cezar was nothing, if not precise when it came to knives. He knew what he was doing. “You’re fine. It's not deep. No stitches. You’ll heal soon.”
Ion scoffed, grabbing the alcohol wipes off the counter and running them down his side, gritting his teeth through the pain before readjusting the gauze over the wound and wrapping it tighter around his waist. Leaning against the counter, he glared at me. “Why do you let him do that shit?”
It was an age-old fight Ion, and I had fought many times before, so this was due. Turning away, I flicked my hand, “You didn't have to step in.”
I could hear him grit his teeth, squeezing the counter's edge to stop himself from doing something stupid. “I did that for you! He was coming for you with the knife to your back.”
Lifting my eyebrow, I glanced at him, unimpressed. “And?”
His hands turned into fists at his side, and I wished he would just let it go, let Cezar be Cezar, and stop trying to put him in the same box he and I were in. We’ll never fully understand Cezar, but he was our brother, and that was that. You didn't get to pick your blood. If I did, the change would come at the top, not the bottom.
“And?! That's your fucking answer! Jesus, Nicu, do you have a fucking death wish? Do you want him to kill you?”
Did I? My jaw clenched. I really didn't know. The only thing I knew was that I failed him. Hearing Cezar’s six-year-old cries just as the door closed on him still haunted me to this day. I failed Cezar in the worst of ways. Something I’ll regret even past my death. I was his older brother, and I just stood back and let that happen to him. I did nothing. Too scared of our shared monster, too afraid of what would happen to me if I did do something, so I let the wolves eat him, and this was what became of him. It was my fault, so I had to take responsibility.
“No. I just know I can handle his outbursts.” Lie. That wasn't the reason, and we both knew it.
He rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Fucking hell, Nicu. You’re doing your job, and he went off the handle. He needs to be leashed, especially around that woman.” He glared in the direction of the room she was in. “Who knows how she slithered her way into his mind to make him like that.”
Was that what she was doing to me? Slithering into the hollow crevices of my mind and making my heart beat again? I needed to be numb to the pain, to feelings, numb to the problems, numb to the world if I was going to survive him and keep my brothers at my side. Cezar had never had that kind of problem. His was all about his past, about what happened that night that changed him forever.
Shaking my head, I knew she wasn't his problem, at least not the real one. “No. She’s something else. Something the voices are telling him is worth something… and his voices have never been wrong. You know that.”
Even if I didn't believe in all that hocus pocus and weird superstitious shit that the heads of the families did, that didn't mean that I would ignore the results. Whenever Cezar’s voice told us something, it came true ninety-nine percent of the time. It was unexplainable, but they hardly ever failed him.
Ion ran his hands over his face; exhaustion took hold of him. I couldn't help but focus on the ripped shirt with red stains. I tried to look at something else, but my eyes kept drifting over to that unkempt look he had going on, and my fingers were twitching to tear it all up. Trying to calm my mind, I focused on what else was happening with Ion. Dark circles were beginning to take form, and his leg was bouncing up and down obnoxiously.
“I need a bump,” he sighed, pulling out his phone, and my anger surged. Did he not understand our situation?
Swiping my hand out, I knocked the phone to the floor and stepped up to him so I was in his face. “What did I fucking tell you? We’re to lie low. No one should know we’re here. Fucking no one. Not any of your drug hookups, not any fucking pussy you're trying to stick your dick in. Fucking. No. One.” Grabbing his shoulders, I smashed my forehead against his, trying to drill in my point with pain. “I didn't think I needed to spell it out for you, but we’re in enemy territory. This is just a holdover place until I get ahold of Father and get us the fuck out of here.”
Shoving him, I backed up, taking a few breaths to calm myself down and rearrange my shirt from our scuffle. Just because we were thugs didn't mean I had to look like one. “Do you understand?”
Ion's eyes flared; the need to fight me, to take out some of that anger from being told he couldn’t have his drugs, rode him hard, but he swallowed it back and gave me a clipped nod. With that solved, I turned to walk into the other room when his big fat mouth couldn’t help but call out, “And whose fault is it that our safe house in the States became a spot for those fucking cockroaches to infect? Maybe after attending your fancy college, you should’ve stayed in the States, made a name for us here, and kept this territory safe.”
I knew it was the withdrawal talking. I laid down the rules, and he was pushing back, getting angry, pissing me off. It's what addicts do, but I needed to be stronger than him. I wanted him to get past this and think clearly by the time we left here. This would be the only opportunity I had to get him clean. In Armenia, our father spread the three of us too thin, keeping us at a distance to control us, so this was a golden opportunity to get him away from his influence.
Keeping my voice low and controlled, I gave him an honest answer. “That wasn’t my choice, now was it?” Ion blinked. I watched as his mind turned and processed. I hoped he understood that we never got to do what we wanted; it was always what he wanted from us.
He wanted me to be the next leader, so I needed all the prestige and pedigree to go with it. Ion was to own the nightlife and understand the ins and outs of the business, so he needed to act and think like the rest of them. Cezar was to be the executioner, the one to finish any war, and that meant he needed to be a killing machine, to feel nothing but blood lust. We all had our parts to play in our father's production, but it was never a path we’d chosen for ourselves. He made sure of that.
His hand went to the back of his head as he looked down, not knowing what to say as he realized what he said. Taking a few steps towards him, I cupped the back of his neck. “We’re going to get through this. All three of us. Just trust me and take my lead.” I wasn't talking about just this mission; I was talking about the rest of our lives. I wanted my brothers with me, the only people I consider family, by my side until the end.
His weak nod was more than I expected. He knew about his problems and didn't like himself enough to fix them, and I…. I didn't know how to fix a problem like that, so I pushed it off as something to fix later. It wasn't killing him, right?
The door sounded, and I knew Cezar was coming for me, so I braced myself for his ire.
“What did I tell you? What did I fucking tell you!?” His face vibrated, eyes narrowing on me like a hawk closing in on his prey.
This time, Ion only glared at him as he stayed back, letting me take care of the situation. It was a wise move since he might get stabbed again.
Folding my arms, I faced my baby brother like he wasn't a rabid dog about to bite me. “I did what I always meant to do: get answers.”
He got right into my face, the only person in my life able to do so, and he spat out, “I made oaths, promises, on the moon and the earth—the spirits. You’re making me a filthy liar, and that makes me twitchy. You know how the saying goes: twitchy times call for bloody designs.” He whipped his head around the room, “And I think this room really needs a makeover. A splash of red to make the white marble pop.”
I raised a brow at him, a glint of silver shining next to him like a warning beacon, but I wasn't afraid. I'd long ago thought that I would die by my little brother's hand; I felt he was owed that kind of retribution for having a failure of an older brother. Just not yet. I haven't set him and Ion up yet.
“You forget who we are, Brother. What is the goal of being here?”
His eyes flared, some of that deep manic rage boiled up, and his body jerked as his voice went low and slow. “You think I could ever forget the filthy, dirty blood that ties us? What were we tricked, beaten, and lied into being?” He cackled into the sky, the sound so hollow and depressing that my chest squeezed. “No, big brother. No matter what is jumbled up in here,” his finger dug into his skull, “I’ll never forget what we are, what I am… but I’m no scumbag liar!”
I hated that his venomous words could sink past my decade's worth of hard exterior and infect my soul so easily, but this wasn't the first time and wouldn't be the last. Taking a deep breath, I straightened my back. I needed to show strength and stability in front of my brothers, which they both seemed to lack so severely. Taking a step forward, we were chest to chest, myself a few inches taller as I glared down at him. “And who told you to make any promises or vows, huh?!”
Jabbing my finger into his chest, my anger flared. “This whole thing was stupid. You kidnapped that girl, letting her see your face, letting her control you! The Cezar I know wouldn’t have been swayed by any female. He would’ve slit her throat and dumped the body in a heartbeat!”
“Which would’ve still been another mess for us to clean up for your ass.” Cezar turned his burning gaze on Ion after his little comment.
“Shut it, Ion!” I barked. The last thing I needed was for him to start another fight with Cezar. He lifted his hands and shrugged shoulders, staring back at Cezar, challenging him.
Everything was unraveling at the seams, nothing going our way since we got here, and now I needed to call him to break the news that Margaret Jones was dead. Taking a deep breath, I let go of all my emotions and settled into my cold, impassive tone. “The woman’s fine.” Cezar swung my way, but I continued, “If she can't handle a few bruises, she’s not meant for this world. Now,” I tried to move on, “I have a job for you, a bloody one, so you should be able to blow off some steam and be productive. Can you do that?”
Like a dog with a bone, his eyes lit up. He was still my devoted executioner. Pulling out my phone, I texted him an address. “Go here. Make sure to hone in on the point that we’re displeased with his area management. No killing, but everything else is on the table. Drive in the point so he won’t disappoint us again.”
As the good soldier, Cezar pulled out his phone and smiled. He started to walk off before he turned around. His lips turned down, and his sparkling eyes felt flat and deadly. “Last warning, don’t hurt her. If I come back and see any red, black, or blue colors on her, I’ll make sure to make my next stab painful and marring.” He ran a finger down his face before winking at us. “Can’t kill my brothers, but I can do so much more. Toodles.” He was out the door in the blink of an eye, his threat hanging in the balance.
“What the fuck is up with that girl that has him so twisted?”
Looking down at my phone, I realized Father would be getting up around this time and expecting an update. “I don’t know, Ion.” Noticing his shirt was still off and we hadn’t fed our guest, an idea popped into my head. “Why don’t you go find out? See if you can get anything from her.”
He whipped his head around, his voice going up, “Me?! How am I going to break her?”
“No one told you to break her!” My voice came out harsher than I wanted. Waving his hand towards his shirtless chest, I explained, “Do what you do best: seduce her, make her think you are on her side. Play your games.”
My phone vibrated, and I flinched, knowing who it was and dreading the conversation I was about to have. He was not going to be happy. I stalked off to answer, “Figure out something, Ion. I can’t always be the only one with a brain.”
Opening the door to the room I was using, I shouted to his back, “Oh, and feed her. It looks like she will be a guest for a minute.” He raised his hands as I closed the door and answered, “Father.”
“What the fuck are you boys doing? I haven't heard a word, and it has been almost forty-eight hours!” I could hear him shuffling through his room, his butler behind him asking if he wanted a shower or a bath.
Biting the bullet, I told him the truth. “We ran into a snag-”
“What snag? What the fuck is so hard about grabbing a woman and keeping her?! You act like it's so fucking hard, and you even have extra hands to handle this!” Something crashed in the background, and I waited for it to start. “You fucking idiots! Imbeciles! What rotten luck I had in siring you three! I thought I was smart, making sure I had the right breeding stock for the three of you, but I guess I was wrong, and all three of your mothers were useless!”
Closing my eyes, I took a slow inhale before responding. “She died recently due to a brain aneurysm. It was sudden and unexpected.” Sticking to the facts was the best way to deal with my Father. Feeling emotions every time this man talked was a waste of time, so I kept myself in check, waiting for him to blow.
“Fuck!” He screamed. His heavy breathing was all I heard until he spat under his breath, “That bitch thinks she can escape me.” Another crash sounded in the background, and I rolled my eyes. Why did he always need to break valuable things when he was angry? Didn't he realize that he achieved nothing in the end?
His flat, bone-chilling voice came over the phone like a switch flipped. “I need to consult someone,” then he hung up.
The muscles in my arm unclenched, my right hand holding my phone to my ear dropped to my side, and I took a moment to think. He needed Margaret Jones for something, something important. She also slipped through my father's fingers when she left for the States, adding a personal layer to this mission.
I would be lying if I said I didn't think about telling him about the woman, Margret's daughter, but even the need to please him didn't trump the thought that I had a wild card in my pocket. One I didn't want to play until I had to.
With my wheels turning, I pulled out my laptop and researched Margaret Jones, but I didn't want to stop there. I also wanted to know who she was before she came to the States. I want to know who she was to my Father.