Chapter 25 - Rem
REM
“He’s barely holding on, boss. Thought you’d want to do the honors.” Bruce hands me the carving knife. I let the weight of it settle into my palm.
What’s left of the shooter who went after Lena and Bianca is tied to a chair in the bowels of one of our clubs.
He’s stripped down to nothing but his underwear.
He doesn’t have any identifying marks or tattoos that I can see.
Nothing useful to connect him to his employer.
His body is mangled, his skin a tapestry of injuries.
He’s missing most of his fingers, and the skin of one hand is almost completely gone.
I gesture at what’s left. “You do that?”
“I only helped it along,” Bruce answers. “He ripped off most the skin when he was breaking through the glass of the elevator vestibule, trying to get to the women. But,” my soldier continues with a cold smile, “the rest is all me.”
Bruce has used his considerable skills to extract as much intel from the fucker as possible, but either the man’s vocab is extremely limited or he’s more loyal to his employer than I gave him credit for.
The sfigato is well past the point of begging for his life. He barely reacts when I run the tip of the knife across his face, getting so close to one eye I give his lashes a little trim.
“Sei proprio uno stronzo,” the man groans through split lips.
Bruce chuckles.
I sink the knife beneath the fucker’s skin. “Did you really just call me an asshole?” Blood wells from the gouge in his cheek but he just lolls his head.
“He’s an ornery shit,” Bruce says. “And it doesn’t matter how much pain I inflict, he’s not giving any names.”
Fuck. “Which means he’s more afraid of who sent him than he is of us.” I’d laugh at Bruce’s look of disbelief if I wasn’t in such a foul mood.
“Which also means he doesn’t know who you are, boss.”
I grab the man by his hair, yanking his head back until he doesn’t have a choice but to look at me. “Guess I better educate him.”
I slice the tendons of one elbow. The man practically swallows his tongue as he tries not to scream. “That,” I hiss into his ear, “is for terrorizing my best friend’s wife.”
The next slice is to the back of one knee. His whole body jerks as his leg malfunctions, the smell of piss spoiling the air. “That’s for calling me an asshole.”
I drop down to a squat in front of him. The guy can’t keep his head up.
The loss of blood and level of pain are making him tremble, his teeth chattering so loudly we can all hear it.
“Here’s your last shot,” I tell him. “You tell me who sent you, I end this right now. No more pain, just a quick death.”
It takes him a hell of a lot of effort to look at me. When he does, I get nothing but a blank stare and bloodshot eyes. “Sei uno scemo,” he says, every word garbled. “è troppo tardi. Non smetterà.”
You’re a fool. It’s too late. He won’t stop.
“Vafancullo!” I release my anger, my frustration on him, slicing the tendons in his other knee before cutting through both Achilles so deeply I almost sever his feet from his legs.
I barely register his screams as blood spreads across the concrete floor. Bruce mutters something under his breath, but I ignore him.
The thing I can’t ignore is the noose tightening around Lena’s neck. And this asshole would rather die in a pool of his own shit and blood than give me any information that might help me save her.
“Boss?” Bruce pulls me out of my thoughts, gesturing to our prisoner. He’s making truly heinous sounds now, the kind that would set the teeth of less blood-thirsty men on edge. “We’re running out of time. We need to leave. Ari’s waiting. I’ll dump this asshole’s body tonight if you…”
End him.
I could let the fucker drown in his own screams, but there’s one thing he hasn’t paid for yet. One affront that can’t go unpunished.
I rest the tip of my blade against the bottom of his throat and lean close. “And this, you motherfucker, is for trying to kill my wife.”
I push the point in slowly, straight through his neck, the blade sinking deep, the only resistance coming from his spine. I wait. Let the reality of the moment sink in for both of us. Meet his already dying eyes, then give one solid push.
His spinal column cracks. He dies. The body in front of me goes entirely limp, the room quiet.
Bruce hands me a towel and I clean the blood from my hands, notice the time on my watch. “Merda! We really are late.” This day will just not fucking quit.
“Thank God, at least one thing is going right.” Ari slaps my back, and we share a clipped smile. “We’ll own their loans by the end of the week.”
“There won’t be anything stopping us from moving in.
” I walk with my brother through the underground parking lot, head on a controlled pivot as I scan our surroundings.
Johnny and Bruce are doing the same in front and behind.
“The execution plan is already in place. Once the paperwork is done it won’t take long to rebrand their casinos as ours and get our staff onto the floors.
It’s the best fucking news we’ve had all week. ”
We’ve just left a meeting with the business head of our casinos and, despite how fucked up the past few days have been, I’m buzzing. We’ve just succeeding in landing a massive blow to our enemies, in the place it hurts the most: their bank accounts.
“Rocco is going to have a coronary when he finds out who’s taken over his debt,” Ari says.
“And Pagano heads are going to roll when we tear their signs off a half-dozen casinos and put ours up instead,” I answer. “It’s a fucking win, fratello. One we really need.”
In the days since returning to the city with Lena, everything has gotten so much more intense.
What with the ongoing turf war, our everyday business affairs, disposing of Lena’s attacker, stalking every last lead in the search for who wants her dead, and searching for Aldo’s la traditrice, I feel like I’m a hamster on meth who can’t get off the fucking wheel.
I’m rarely home. I’ve barely slept. Other than the few moments of peace I’ve allowed myself in our bed, wrapping myself around Lena’s sleeping form in the hours before dawn, I’ve been surviving on espresso and pure adrenaline. I left the club and the dead body of Lena’s attacker feeling bleak.
But, maybe, my efforts are starting to pay off.
First, our business manager has confirmed that in a matter of days we’ll own of all of Rocco Pagano’s casinos. That’s hundreds of millions of dollars that will be hitting our balance sheets, legally taken from theirs.
Second, I’ve just gotten word from a contact who might hold the final puzzle piece to who is trying to kill Lena and why.
He’s agreed to meet this evening. He’s at least an hour’s drive outside the city and I check my watch, anxious to be on the road.
If he gives me the answers I think he’s going to, I want to be back to the penthouse before Lena goes to sleep.
Ari catches me checking the time. “You have somewhere to be?”
“A meeting.” We’ve stopped a few yards shy of my car. “I’ll drop you and Bruce back at the club then head out with Johnny.” The two other men linger on our periphery, out of ear shot but standing guard.
“Postpone it,” Ari says. “Come back to the club with me. We have things to celebrate.”
“I really can’t.”
“You sure about that?” Ari looks pointedly at the ring on my left hand. “It’d give you a chance to tell me what the fuck that is.”
“It’s a ring.”
“Obviously. Why are you wearing it?”
It’s stupid to prevaricate. “I got married.”
My brother doesn’t miss a beat. “To who?”
From the corner of my eye, I see both Bruce and Johnny tense. It takes a remarkable level of control to keep myself relaxed when I answer, “Lena.”
Ari’s hiss is audible. “Che cazzo!? What the fuck, Rem!?” His shout echoes against the concrete walls of the parking garage. For the second time in a week a conversation about Lena blows my brother’s characteristic composure out of the water.
Not that I blame him. I’ve been dreading this conversation since I demanded that Lena walk down the aisle, but it’s one neither of us can avoid.
“It was necessary,” I say, cutting to the chase.
“Her life is at risk. The most expedient way to keep her safe was to make her a Cosenza. No one would dare take out my wife, not without inciting the bloodiest war this city has ever seen. It was a logical move.”
“This isn’t fucking chess, brother.”
“Isn’t it?” I resist the impulse to lash out in frustration.
“I’m making move after move, running counterattacks, constantly fighting against checkmate, and this game still won’t fucking end.
I’m close, brother, so goddamn close, and I’m not letting anyone take out the queen. It’s just not happening.”
Ari looks at me, dumbfounded. “I can’t believe you married her. A fake engagement is one thing, Rem, but you know you can’t get divorced. The Family will never let you get divorced. You just brought a traitor—”
“Stop.” I grip Ari’s shoulders, pouring my conviction into every word. “She’s not. I swear to God. And I still have two days to prove it. Two days until our uncle gets back. Let me do my job, fratello, the one I’ve been doing all along. Trust me. Please.”
Ari studies my expression, searching my eyes for God knows what. That inscrutable mask is back in place, and I have no idea if he finds what he’s looking for.
“Have you fucked her?”
“Not that it’s any of your business but, no.”
“So, your marriage isn’t consummated.”
“Technically, no, but that’s way too old-fashioned to even fucking matter. You’re just like Marco. Everything has to be so black and white with you. So let me say it in terms you’ll understand: she’s my wife, I’m her husband, she’s a member of this family, all our protection extends to her.”
“So you’ve said. You’re a broken record when it comes to her. It makes me even more worried.”
“About what, fratello?”
“That you don’t realize how much damage you’ve done.”
If only he knew how much it keeps me up at night.
Everything I’ve learned since returning to the city indicates that Lena’s presence in my life—in the Cerreti family—is more dangerous than I could’ve imagined.
But my brain is losing the battle against my heart.
I can’t bring myself to let her go. For reasons that have nothing to do with just keeping her safe.
All I can say to my older brother is, “Just trust me.”
“I always have, Rem. I’m just starting to wonder if I shouldn’t.”
Ari’s comment lands like a physical blow, but I don’t have time to defend myself. Bruce and Johnny, who have stayed silent during our exchange, are getting antsy.
Something has spooked them.
“It’s time to move.” Bruce corrals us toward my car.
“I’ll drive,” Johnny says, “Bruce up front. You two in the back.”
I don’t know what’s got their backs up, but they’re barking orders at us, and Ari and I fall in line.
The garage is quiet. No sound of footsteps or other vehicles.
All the same, the hair on the back on my neck goes pin straight.
Ari lengthens his stride until he’s a half-step in front of me, putting himself between me and whatever we all sense is about to come at us.
It’s a big brother move he can’t help but make, no matter the current tension between us.
Johnny is at the front of our group, several steps in the lead as he remotely unlocks the car. Senses hyper-alert, I register that the first click doesn’t do anything.
Johnny picks up speed, jogging toward the car as he tries the remote a second time. There’s a click, the headlights flash, and everything looks normal. Except, I know it isn’t.
I have a split-second to move, grabbing my best friend by the collar and yanking hard right before Ari blocks me with his body. We move fast, but not fast enough.
The garage shakes and the overhead lights shatter as my car explodes, a ball of fire and fumes that sends all four of us flying backward, the world blacking out before I even hit the ground.