8. Chapter 7 Soren
Jude isn’t even at my birthday party and he’s ruining it. I step into the shadows, my shoulders relaxing the moment I’m away from the crowd and I no longer have to pretend everything is going perfect. The smell of fall is fresh in the night’s air as I fill my lungs with a deep inhale. I pause to watch Ginevra staring at the tent like it’s infested with bugs. Her facial features pull down as if she would rather die than to step foot back into it. I don’t even know why I’m hesitating to go to my best friend. Jude said it was an emergency, but there’s a part of me that wants to continue my talk with Gin. My phone buzzes again as Jude spams me with messages and I take one more glance at Gin before I head toward the front of the house. Jude must have taken all the fun genes in that family, and it’s turned him into someone I don’t recognize anymore.
I round the corner, not quite in front of the house yet when I run into my fiancée fucker. My skin prickles with immediate hatred. You don’t fuck other men’s wives. This parking attendant has zero loyalty.
“Get my fucking car.” I toss him my keys. The vein in my neck pulses and my skin stretches into a snarl. I stand there looking around, seeing another valet guy walk by me.
“Hey, you!” I call. “How many of you are working tonight?”
“There’s two of us right now, but in an hour and half, we’ll have six for when people start to leave.”
This is fucking perfect.“Take the rest of the night off and I’ll pay you double for getting cut early. I have this covered.”
The guy smiles. “Thanks, man.”
My molars grind and my thumb brushes over the stubble on my jaw. We can’t have anyone working for us who can’t be trusted. I follow a few simple moral codes. One, don’t hurt women or children. Two, respect those who earn it.
I never expected to see Karissa out there fucking someone against a tree. I had seen Gin in the distance and wanted to know why she was outside by herself.
A gust of wind pushes past me, but I’m too hot to feel the cold. I take off my suit jacket, but the cool air does nothing to lower my temperature. My fingers clench my jacket, wrinkling its material before I place it on the ground for a moment. I undo my cuffs, rolling my sleeves up to my forearm. The veins in my arms and hands pop out from the extra blood rushing through me. I open and close my left hand, trying to relive my tense muscles.
I have lost everything I have ever truly loved. My nanny, the puppy I got on my tenth birthday, my grandfather. If I had allowed myself to fall in love with Karissa, this would have been another example. Love makes men vulnerable. I can’t have a weakness that people can use against me. My father has shown me what happens if you allow yourself to grow weak.
Gin would never cheat on a test, nevermind a human being. She’s built differently from the women I know. I shake my head, not understanding why that thought popped into my head. I look down at my broken hand. If she hadn’t sprayed me with an acid-like liquid, I would have never punched the ground. That was an idiot move. That girl has a way of making me go crazy, always has.
Five minutes later, when it should have taken thirty seconds, my car arrives. I push the asshole out of the way and he falls to the ground. My lips curl downward and I look around. No one is nearby and the party won’t be ending for a while. I pull my gun out, twisting on its silencer.
His feet slip over the pavement as he tries to scramble up. “I didn’t know who she was.” He pushes himself up to his knees, his entire body shaking. “I’m sorry, man.”
A man who begs for his life is a waste of air. I point my gun at his head. “Look at me.” In my world, people get one chance to show their loyalty. He lost his the moment he fucked my fiancée.
He turns his head and I shoot him between the eyes. Blood splatters onto my black pants and white dress shirt.
I holster my gun, looking around once more before I lift the asshole up by his shoulders and drag him away. I quickly make a phone call to my cleaning crew, telling them to come in ASAP, and another to my brothers to let them know that we need another parking attendant for the evening.
I take a deep breath, finally able to breathe easier. My throat is no longer tight and my chest rises up and down without a problem. I roll my sleeves back down. Each roll of the material has my heart rate calming. I replace my cufflinks, brushing any wrinkles out of my shirt before I walk to the grass to pick up my jacket and slip it on.
Opening my car door, I pause, waiting to hear any commotion that might come from the tent. Nothing. The music flows out from the tent, dancing around me in the chilly night air, and my lips stretch upwards as I slip behind the wheel. My foot pushes down on the pedal, squealing my tires, and the smell of rubber infiltrates my car a moment before it shoots forward.
I cross a bridge, the wind trying to take hold of my control, and downshift. I pass Jude’s favorite deep-dish pizza place as I enter the heart of the city.
I arrive at the downtown location sent from Jude’s phone without further disturbance. Just like he said there would be, a red door stands brightly lit halfway down the dark alleyway. If I didn’t owe Jude a life debt, I don’t think I would have come. He saved my life once when we were teens, and I owe him my life.
I bang on the door three times before a small rectangular part slides open and I see two eyes staring at me.
“Passcode.”
I glance at my phone to be sure I have it right. “Christmas on steroids.” I’m so tired of shit like this.
The door opens into darkness. As soon as I step into the sketchy place, a goon pulls my arms back, causing a zap of pain to shoot up my bad hand and into my elbow. Someone shoves a gun into my face, pressing its cold metal against my temple. It pushes against my skin and into my skull. The cold metal forces an animalistic growl to escape my mouth. Who the fuck do these people think they are?
My eyes slide toward the man with the gun. He looks like he’s enjoyed too much cocaine and not enough food. I’m insulted that they didn’t send someone of higher stature for me. These guys are the fall guys if anything goes wrong. I doubt they can add two plus two.
“You Jude’s friend?”
Motherfucker.
My stomach clenches and my chest tightens. Jude and I have been friends our whole lives. I never thought he would set me up.
“No, never heard of the guy.” My heart stays at a steady rhythm as I take in my surroundings. My grandfather taught me how to stay calm while gambling, but it’s a lesson that has been far more valuable to me in other parts of my life.
The hard, cold grip of a pistol whacks across my face, catching me off guard. The force pushes my jaw to the left and it takes a considerable amount of restraint to not lash out. My jaw stings, but I don’t move a muscle, even when the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth. I breathe through my nose, my nostrils flaring as I control my rage. My fractured hand is pulled tighter behind my back and it protests with a sharp pain radiating up my arm.
“Come on, funny guy.” The guy holding my arms pushes me into a hallway and down the stairs into a big open room with drugs scattered all around the tables.
There are naked women running money machines, which is an interesting business choice, but Jude’s nowhere to be seen. What the Hell has Jude gotten me into? I’m missing my birthday party for this shit. Fuck!
My eyes flick over to a door opening and a new guy walks in, cleaning what looks like blood off his hands. There’s a part of me that hopes it’s Jude’s blood and he’s learned a valuable lesson, but I know my best friend. He’s too lucky for that to be the case.
“We need you to deliver some product for us with that new fancy cargo ship you have.”
“I don’t deal with drugs,” I answer flatly.
The new guy bobs his head and gives me a look as if to say, “I used to never deal with drugs.” The counting machines stop and the rustling of drugs being placed in baggies falls silent.
“I’m shocked a man of your stature doesn’t want in on part of the pie.” He opens a baggy on a table and dips his knife blade into it.
“I think a man like myself can be of better use to you in other ways. I’m no delivery boy. I didn’t become a billionaire by running errands. How about you tell me how you want to grow your business and we can go from there.”
The machines start up again and everyone goes back to work. I’m not helping this dipshit, but I want to know who runs this place. This is my town and everyone pays homage to the Morettis.
“I deal in drugs, not sports betting.”
“Sure, but both deal with addicts. Drugs and sports are both a gateway to something bigger and better.”
The stupid cocksucker obviously hadn’t thought this through, but he pauses at my insight and smiles at me. I run the largest empire of online sports gambling in the country. It’s one of the many things I do.
“Now, why don’t you tell me how our mutual friend, Jude, is involved in all of this?” Then, when the perfect moment strikes, I’m killing these three men. I’m already on a roll, why stop at the parking attendant?
“To be honest, I didn’t believe him when he told me that the Soren Moretti would come and pay off his debt. I still cut off a finger though, but don’t worry, it was only half a pinky. They’re a waste of space.”
There’s a reason why people are scared of the Moretti brothers, and it has nothing to do with me. I’m the rational one. The calm one. My brothers are mean mother fuckers, and together we rule this city. This fucker has lived his last day, once I get out of here.
“You don’t look as scary as the rumors lead one to believe,” the idiot continues.
“Now what rumors are those?”
“That you’re the deadly boss of the Moretti Mafia.”
It’s nice to hear Jude didn’t stab me entirely in the back, the stupid junkie. I can imagine my brothers laughing at me when I tell them that these guys think I’m the one in charge. The first thing I’m doing when I see Jude is getting him back into rehab. Third time has to be a charm.
I’m kicked from the back and jolt forward, the action pulling me from my thoughts. If I wanted, I could take the three guys in the room, but I don’t know how many others lurk around.
“We also want protection.” Greedy fucker. They always want more.
“Now tell me, are we friends or enemies?” My voice is calm, smooth, without a hint of disdain. “Friends help each other out, give protection. I’m not feeling like a friend of yours at the moment.”
I hate lip service, and that’s what this is. I’m forced to lie, telling them what they want to hear to get out of this place in one piece.
The man behind me releases my hands and pulls a chair out from under one of the naked women, placing it near me. “I’d rather stand, like the rest of my friends.” I look at each of the men. “Let’s start with how much Jude owes you.”
“Three K.”
I pull a wad of money from my pocket. “Here’s the first thousand. It’s all I have on me now. I’ll get the rest of it to you tomorrow.” I adjust my suit jacket and all of their eyes go to my wrapped hand. It’s my good hand too. There’ll be no punch throwing for me in the next few days.
I hold out my hand for us to shake, unsure if this is a smart move. I’d rather not have my bones cracked anymore, and I can tell he’s thinking about doing just that.
His hand raises and grips mine with a shake. The faster I get out of here, the better. I memorize each face and plan to look them in the eye when I put a bullet in their head.
“The pleasure is all mine,” the guy replies.
He tilts his head and the two men who brought me down here turn. I follow them out.
I’m vibrating with rage when I get to my car and immediately call Jude. It goes to voicemail. The fucker just ignored my call. Jude has never betrayed me before; this has to be a misunderstanding. A string of curses leaves my mouth as I pound on my steering wheel three times. I felt so calm and collected a moment ago, but that has quickly disappeared. I need to wash my hands of Jude, but it’s not that simple.
I call him again. Voicemail.
Jude better be in a ditch, dead.