20. Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty
Henny
L ife was pretty damn good. And by good, I meant great. Our clandestine union in the darkness of an empty gas station parking lot had awoken something in my surly, sad panda. Something I was all too happy to indulge. Formerly reticent and reluctant and full of rage, my Marco was now a downright possessive prick with an insatiable appetite for wild sex. My inner slut was loving every Goddamn second of it.
I had no complaints whatsoever. Waking up every morning to ride his cock was the highlight of my day. Being fucked through the mattress before we passed out together was the pinnacle of every night. Marco d’Ambrosio might not have been gay, but whatever label he did or didn't choose, my gay heart was more than happy to be the partner of. Ten out of ten, best life ever.
Granted, it wasn't entirely sunshine and roses. That didn't surprise me in the least. For as cocksure and confident as I was, I knew my ass held no magical healing powers when it came to his struggles with mental health and the increasingly complicated mess of his family. He put on a good show, though. It gutted me every time I saw through his bullshit. Which was every time. He had a penchant for masking his lows with anger. Equally, his brief moments of relief from the grips of his depression left him uncertain and downright clingy, as if he could somehow hold on to the feeling by refusing to let me out of his sight.
Therein laid the only issue that caused us some concern for me. Marco’s family had taken the hint—he wanted space from them and the stress his father was drowning in, so they'd all fucked off with the exception of Luca and Nico. Unfortunately, I was not a free agent who could come and go as he pleased. For as much as I deluded myself into thinking I was part of the d’Ambrosio family, at the end of the day, I was just another body on the roster and I'd taken it upon myself to keep tying up loose strings and handling responsibilities in Marco’s stead. Well, technically, I was pretending to be the go-between for Marco and Damiano. Neither of them knew, but fuck it. I'd help however I could, especially if it took some of the burden of Marco’s already heavy load.
One such burden came in the form of a very bulky envelope containing a fuck ton of cash and an index card with an address and time on it. There was only one thing that would require that much cash and while I might have previously been ready to dive in head first without a care in the world for the risks, I didn't quite feel the same desire to be reckless or unbothered. Arms dealing was in a whole other ballpark from the small shit I typically handled. Arms dealing without a trusted crew was in a different category altogether.
I stared at the envelope in my lap as I sat in the car on the street outside my apartment. Jericho needed to hurry the fuck up because I sure as shit wasn't having this conversation with him while Marco was in earshot. Naturally, the fucker was running late and I honestly didn't have the time. My eyes darted to the time on the dash and back toward the envelope four more times before Jer’s Nissan finally came tearing down the street. I flashed the headlights at him and rolled down the window as he slipped the car into a parking spot and climbed out with a scowl. Seems like Marco and I weren't the only ones struggling with shit we never talked about.
“Hey, what’s up?” Jericho’s arms folded over the door of the SUV as he leaned through the open window. Dark circles under his eyes and a visible strain in his posture gave me pause, but the time on the clock in my peripheral vision didn't allow me the opportunity to press the matter.
“Hop in. There's a job. The Jersey Docks job.” I tapped the envelope on my lap and watched his eyes dip down and back up with another scowl.
“The guns?”
“Yep. Damiano wants them delivered to the distributors by midnight. The shit’s waiting in Jersey. I'm supposed to be there in less than an hour.”
“And what about Marco? Why isn't he—”
“It's complicated, alright? Just get in.” I rocked my head back and let it hit the headrest with a sigh. “Please?”
“Nah, man. Look… I get it. I know you're trying to play knight in shining armor and get in good with the family, but we aren't rolling up on a fucking Moretti shipping yard at night with just our good looks to pull us through. We did that shit already and it almost got us locked the fuck up.”
“This isn't the same—”
“Damn fucking right, it ain't.” Jericho scoffed and pulled back. “This is ten thousand times riskier and I'm not doing it. Not again. You aren't either.”
“I am. I have to. Do I have to remind you who pays the fucking rent on our shit?” I gestured toward the apartment building we called home. “He fucking owns us, and this is what we need to do. I don't want to do it alone.”
“But you also don't want to drag Marco into it? It's his fucking father, let him put his neck on the line.” Jericho’s eyes narrowed, becoming dark slits that shown with disappointment. “Marco can disappear and get off without consequences, but we have to keep picking up the slack? His dick must be fan-fucking-tasting if you're willing to play errand boy for a taste.”
“Fuck you, Jer. Fuck you.” My hands tightened around the steering wheel as I ground my teeth. “It's not about dick, it's about doing our fucking jobs.”
“Maybe I don't want to do this job any more. Maybe I don't want to run guns and drugs and play thug for the Mafia Princes any more. I figured maybe the last shit would be your wake up call. If not that, then the bullshit at the meetup. Instead, you're ready to jump in balls deep just ‘cause Marco gets balls deep.” Jericho took a step back, his head shaking as his nose curled. “I thought better of you. I guess I was the only one who thought you were trying to do better. But I'm out. I’m done. I can't keep picking up the pieces while you run around hellbent on self-destruction.”
The hurt ran deep, cutting hard and fast. My jaw went slack as I stared at him, absorbing all the words into the marrow of my bones. My brother, the man I'd survived the foster care system with, the one person I thought would be beside me till the end, was walking away from me and I couldn't do anything to stop him. Anger rushed in, attempting to cushion the pain with a different emotion.
“Fuck you, Jer. Fuck you.” It wasn't the most creative rebuttal, but it was all I could muster through the hurt. I jabbed the button to roll the window up and turned the key in the ignition. Jericho took a half step forward, his mouth opening to say something I couldn't hear over the sound of the engine and the loud music that started playing through the speakers. Honestly, I didn't want to hear it. I flipped him off, my rings clacking against the glass pane, before shifting the car out of park and peeling out into the road. Fuck him. Fuck him for everything he just said, even if half of it was true.
Three blocks later, en route to a job I didn't quite feel like doing anymore, I decided I really needed someone to come along for the ride. If only to save myself from a disaster. Just as reluctantly, I turned the music off and pulled up my contact list at the first red light I encountered. Anyone was better than no one when it came to walking into enemy territory. I pressed the call button and sighed as it rang and rang. Please don't pick up. Please don't.
“Yo, fucker. Long time no talk.”
I swore under my breath and resigned myself to the fact that I really didn't have many other options than this one.
“Hey, Gramps. You and the crew feel like helping with a job?”
“Fuck yeah, Henny. When and where?”
I hesitated, breathing in and out as I tried to list the pros and cons with no time to do so. As the silence stretched too thin, I battled with second thoughts before blurting the address. Even as the words fell from my lips, I worried that this time might be when I finally got burned for playing with fire.