33. Testing Bullets
Testing Bullets
Bianca
Benny is an asshole and a fast one. He hit Olympic speeds off the back porch that had a bitch running for her life. The drones that transformed out of the ground wouldn’t hurt me, but the hills were still alive with the sound of my screaming. I run my mouth, not these legs!
My lungs finally breathe easy after yet another high-speed chase messing with this man. I put distance between me, those soft lips, and that bulge inviting me to hump it under lemon trees.
Nowhere on my solo trip itinerary does it include falling in love. I’ve got bills and a chosen family back home. Not to mention the tiny reality of being with a crime boss that comes with stress, mistresses, and a shorter life span.
No thanks!
I shouldn’t be craving him beyond his body, but the more time I spend with him, the harder it is to not believe crime bosses need love too.
The sun frays at the edge of the sky by the time I walk back to the house.
I wandered around the citrus grove until he left with Andrea.
I’m still wrapping my head around staying in one of the screensavers I stared at on my lunch breaks to escape the chaos of Corporate America.
It’s not the same, but Sicily is breathtaking.
Mango trees.
Lemon trees.
Orange trees.
Lush greenery and fuchsia flowers crawling over the house.
This is exactly how senseless people fall in love and become victims in Lifetime dramas. They let their guard down with the person they know isn’t good for them. How many of those Wrong movies does Vivica Fox have to star in with a different wig before we get the message?
Flings are okay; feelings are not.
I like Benny a lot, but my pussy and I will keep fighting the good fight.
That battle is between you and the Lord.
I crouch behind a bush at a voice going off on somebody in Sicilian. Beside the house stands a man who would make a good living impersonating Giancarlo Esposito. I do a double-take at his curly salt and pepper hair and cinnamon skin tone. Ain’t no way Gus Fring is here.
Tattoos wave across the hand he shakes in the air. It’s hard to make out what he’s saying, but the names Renata and Eden are loud and clear.
Isn’t Benny meeting her tonight? I vaguely remember Renata’s name. Benny mentioned she owns Eden the night I went undercover.
Non-Giancarlo’s mustache crinkles in a grimace. He ends the call to dial another number.
“I need a favor,” he demands in Italian. “I’m working on him. Salvatore will come around.”
Come around to what?
The words almost fly out of my mouth, but I stay quiet.
I don’t know this man or his relationship to Benny.
He might shoot my ass in these bushes. I lift my dress to crouch and creep.
The orange tree closest to the house offers no cover for snooping.
Mama Vee was notorious for pulling up the blinds when there was a commotion outside, privacy and anonymity be damned.
I have a little more decorum. Today, it requires strong thighs and stable knees—both of which are questionable in these damn sandals.
“Shit.” I trip over a branch, sending me to my hands and knees.
The man goes quiet and looks in my direction. He’s not one of the Scilari members I met. His terracotta two-piece is a sharp contrast to the funeral black Benny’s people wear.
I shift closer to the ground and pray my ass isn’t visible in the air. Between the drones and guns, I need no weapon to form against me and prosper.
“An alliance is beneficial to our families,” he says, his gaze shifting beyond the trees. “He’ll do what’s necessary.”
The man disappears around the side of the house.
He better not be talking about that other woman. What was her name? Elsie? Elphaba?
Elena.
Whoever.
Benny isn’t my man for real, but the possibility of him entertaining any other woman while I’m here is grounds for a crash out.
Maybe I will pull up.
The car rolls to a stop in front of Eden. I wave to my new driver, grab my container, and tiptoe toward the entrance in my heels.
“Oh, hello,” I say in Italian to the man who opens the door. “Is—“
“This way.” His gentle tone doesn’t match the resting bitch face screwing his bottom lip.
I follow him through velvet curtains. The music is off and the lights are at rest. Shadows crawl over sofas missing club members or the staff serving them.
My open-toed stilettos turn to reroute back to the car when a deep groan beyond a closed curtain steals my attention.
It’s not Benny. His growls and moans live in my head rent-free.
The man who let me in nods at me to move along before he disappears behind a wall.
I grip the insulated bag and flip my braids over my shoulder.
Death or an orgy is behind that veil. If it’s the second, Benny’s fate will be the first. Groans deepen the closer I get to the dark fabric.
Light peeks from the dance floor under the hem.
Beyond the veil are four men kneeling over a tarp.
There’s a fifth, but judging by the pool of blood surrounding his face, he’s not making it home.
“Hey, cousin!” Andrea gives me a two-finger wave from a booth with computers and electronics on the table. His knit shirt and shorts set with high-tops are a stark contrast to his partner’s suit.
The tarp crinkles under Benny’s loafers as he slowly walks by the kneeling men. His suit jacket is off, his sleeves rolled to his elbows. The fabric across his back shifts under blue lights cast onto the dance floor.
Benny tilts his head to the side and sniffs the air. His once hard profile softens into a low smile. Our eyes lock and I bite my lip.
The men on the ground look between us as I meet Benny halfway. He takes in his white dress shirt I’m wearing with biker shorts flirting with the hem. A sundress didn’t feel appropriate for Eden, so I improvised.
“I made lasagna.”
Three words that make total sense when stumbling onto a murder scene. Not “What you doing?” or “Please don’t kill.” In my defense, I didn’t expect to find him indulging in serial killer tendencies again, but is it wrong that I’m happy he’s not fucking Vicki with the long back?
I’m not saying I agree with him committing murder, just that I understand the more I get to know him. They probably deserved it.
“You came out here to bring me food?” Benny tugs my belt to pull me closer.
“Figured you didn’t eat,” I say to the shades of amber flashing in his dark stare. I ignore the open top three buttons of his dress shirt and the tattoos inked across his chest, teasing me.
I’m serving lasagna, not ass.
The corner of his mouth lifts. “Liar.”
Our fingers graze when he takes the container. Brass knuckles decorate his hands, splattered in what I assume is blood. A discussion about healthier methods of information sourcing will be in our future.
“Do I want to know why there are four men and a dead body on a tarp?” I glance at the guy coughing up blood. Is he missing a hand?
“You want the truth?”
Do I?
“They’re involved in migrant smuggling in my territories,” Benny says. “I needed to stop by Eden, so we picked them up on the way.”
See. Logical explanation.
“Cut away, then,” I say.
“You didn’t answer my question, Trouble. Is dropping off food the only reason you’re here?”
“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore,” I whisper.
“Makes two of us, love.”
Benny lifts my chin and presses his mouth to mine. The kiss is slow, gentle. Men pleading for their lives in the background don’t drown out my racing heart. Nothing about this—him killing people and me prancing in here with lasagna—is normal. But it doesn’t scare me anymore.
“Luiggi will take you upstairs until I’m done,” he says, referring to the man I vowed to beat down on sight. “Thank you for the food.” He kisses the top of my head before sliding his mask back in place, digging his fork into the lasagna and eating with a nod.
My breath catches at his profile. The man is too fine for his own good, with the dingaling of gold Tamar and Toni once sang about.
“Ready?” Luiggi clears his throat. He’s in all black like Benny, wearing tactical gear and an earpiece.
My hand brushes over the gun Benny gave me that’s packed in my bag. I didn’t plan on shooting anyone tonight, but there’s a first time for everything.
“I’m sorry I drugged you,” he says with a tiny smirk as we take the steps to the upper level. “I was following orders.”
“Mhm.” These bullets will follow my orders in a minute.
Luiggi opens a door to an office overlooking the dance floor. Chandeliers reflect through a large window behind a leather sofa.
“Want a drink?” He motions toward the liquor in crystal bottles on the credenza.
“No, thank you,” I say to his back when he picks up a glass. “How do you know Benny?”
“I met him and Andrea after they came back from university. The three of us started in enforcement. I grew our security while Salvatore and Andrea built their businesses and dealt arms.”
“Do you feel left out?”
His hand hovers over his glass. “No. I like what I do.”
“Do you have family in the Scilari?” Tough leather groans under my butt. Has anyone ever sat in this chair?
“You ask a lot of questions.”
I shrug. “Just curious.”
Luiggi steps into my personal space. It’s not inappropriate, but my hand is on my Glock. His stare floats over a long sip of amber liquid. Two dimples appear. “Don’t Americans have a saying about curiosity?”
“Something with cats,” a woman purrs.
She walks toward Luiggi and plants a kiss on each cheek. “Are you almost done downstairs? A private party arrives in an hour.”
A blood-curdling scream reaches the windows.
“Salvatore is finishing up,” Luiggi says.
“He always enjoyed taking his time.” Her gaze swings toward me. It starts at my toes and crawls up to my face. Thick lips twist into a wry smile.
“Renata,” she says, like it should hold more relevance. “I’m sure Salvatore told you who I am.”
I feign giving a fuck. “You don’t come up in our conversations. Sorry to disappoint.”
Renata is a stunning older woman. Full figure on display in a tight black dress with big brown eyes that match the highlights in her hair. Something about her rubs me the wrong way. I can’t place it, but there are secrets under that thick foundation.
“I own Eden and have known Salvatore since he was a teenager,” she says, voice curt. “Even taught him a few things when he was older. He’s a fast learner. I’m always happy to assist.”
Yeah, I might put hands on her before the end of the night.
Fighting over a man is pointless. I never knew why someone felt the need to do so until now. Renata might’ve had him, but I’m willing to bet she’s never seen the real Benny. His caring side comforts when he’s not on a path of destruction.
She crosses her long legs in the chair behind her desk. “It’s good to see him back within my walls.” Her smile grows. “Lots of our girls have gone to his house, but there’s something about him coming home.”
My nails scrape the armrest to keep me in my seat and not going upside her head. It’s stupid to be jealous. I pretended to be a woman Benny pays for sex, but what pisses me off is Renata’s smirk. It’s obvious she wants to get under my skin. I won’t give her the pleasure.
Pow.
But I will test the bullets in my gun to verify that it works. Guess what? They do.
Renata screams. Luiggi grins into his glass.
Heavy footsteps thunder down the hall before Benny bursts through the open door.
“You okay?” He directs the question to me without care for the Glock still in my hand.
“Just getting acquainted with your old friend and my new toy,” I say. “She was informing me about your friendly dick. Keep talking, Renata.”
“Put the gun down, Trouble.” Benny chuckles. All evidence of humor erases when he looks at Renata. “Watch how you talk to my wife.”
Wife.
“Wife?“ She gawks. “Your wife almost shot me!”
“Please. The bullet is half a foot from your head. If I wanted to shoot you, the mouth you’re running wouldn’t be the only hole in your face.” Technically, her nostrils count, but whatever.
The two go back and forth in Sicilian. Benny slams his hands on her desk. “You’re lucky you’re not downstairs with the other bodies,” he says.
I peek out of the window. Sure enough, the four who were alive are face down in their own blood.
“Did you know about the smuggling ring?”
Renata’s chin trembles. “Of course not. I protect my workers.”
“Yet they keep disappearing.”
“I don’t monitor any agreements off the books. Some inform me of their outside clients. I look the other way with drug sales, but that’s it.”
She cowers when Benny leans closer. “If I find out you’re lying, neither God nor my uncle will save you.”
“Salvatore,” she pleads.
“Am I clear?”
Tears spill over Renata’s eyeliner. “Understood.”
“Come here, Trouble.”
What did I do?
Do you not see the hole in that lady’s wall?
Benny extends a hand, which I take as he pulls me to his side. “I haven’t touched you in over a decade. Your focus should be on my uncle and not the memory of my dick. Disrespect my wife and you’ll be the next one missing. Apologize.”
“I’m sorry,” Renata says to Benny.
“To her,” he commands.
Her lips press together. She finally looks at me and says, “My apologies, Mrs. Bennici.”
Benny stalks out of the room with me in tow. He signals for Luiggi to wait downstairs before my back is against the wall.
“You’re a shooter now, love?” His erection presses into my lower belly.
“Your gun isn’t the only one with bullets.” I smile at his grin.
He attacks my lips. I’m in the air, legs wrapped around his waist, mouths sealed.
Footsteps trudge up the stairs.
“You almost—aww, hell.”
Andrea stomps away, leaving my future husband and me to practice our honeymoon in the hallway.