Chapter 16
RAFAEL
When I reach the motel, I find Tony and Dante leaning against the hood of a car in the parking lot. Dante is smoking a cigarette, his eyes bleak as he watches me climb from the car. Tony pushes away, all anxious energy, my cousin as fidgety as usual.
“Rafe, good night?” he says.
“You said you had word on Nico.”
Tony looks at the motel, wincing, then turns back to me. “Fucking Hungarians.”
“Hungarians?”
Dante flicks his cigarette to the ground and joins us. “Tony got a call from Nico saying he needed backup.”
“He called you?” I say, looking at my cousin.
Tony shrugs. “Maybe he couldn’t reach you.”
“I don’t have any missed calls.”
“I don’t know what was going through his head, Rafe. Maybe he didn’t want to call you for some reason.”
I look at my cousin, wondering if there’s more to his shifty eyes and his inability to stand still. If a man wanted to evade suspicion, it might be in his interests to always seem anxious, like it was just a natural part of his personality…
I need to slow down. The last thing I need is to start a war I can’t escape.
“So, where is he?” I snap.
Tony swallows, face going pale, and gestures to the motel room. “He’s in there. But Rafe, it’s not good. He’s not…”
“He’s dead,” Dante growls, looking at Tony in disgust, as if wondering how a man is supposed to function in this life if he can’t say something as basic as this. “Mangled like some sick serial-killer fuck did it too. Whoever did it must’ve got to him between him calling and us getting here.”
“Let’s take a look,” I say, a pit in my gut.
I’ve gone from the most magical, hell… beautiful night of my life, to this. Back to bloody business as usual.
The three of us approach the motel room. The door is slightly ajar. The stench hits me before I see anything, coppery blood and the reek of death.
Nico lies on the bed, a picture of brutality, torn apart as if wild animals had set upon him. I grind my teeth, staring at one of my most trusted men. Then my gaze moves to the picture above the bed.
“What the fuck?” I murmur.
“Something wrong?” Dante says.
Tony scoffs. “Wrong, Dante? Why don’t you think before you speak? The Hungarians killed Nico. Of course something is wrong.”
Dante tilts his head at me, as if silently telling me to calm my cousin down. He’s right. Tony is acting like some flighty kid who’s never seen a dead body before.
“That picture,” I say, gesturing. “It belongs to Athena Gravestone, the artist Adrian Kovacs outbid me for at the auction.”
Well, it was Ava, who outbid me, but that’s not the point…
Tony claps his hands together. “See! What more proof do we need, then? This bastard is taunting us. First, he sent those men after you last year. Then he somehow gets to Nico. And now this. They’re laughing at us.”
“It’s a good way to send a message,” Dante mutters.
“But what’s the message?” I growl. “This is a declaration of war. The Hungarians know we’ll have to come back at them with everything we have after this.”
“We need to see Kovacs,” Dante mutters.
Tony reaches into his jacket, takes out his gun, and waves it around like an idiot.
Irritation creeps up my spine at the useless show of bluster.
“Send me there, cousin. Send me there alone, and I’ll handle this.
I’ll have him singing a tune with every single thing we need to know.
Please, do it. Just give me the go-ahead.
I’ll have him trussed up like a goddamn pig for daring to act on our men! ”
Suspicion pricks me. I’ve always seen Tony as an enthusiastic, but misguided and basically inefficient operator. But now, I don’t know… something tightens in my gut.
“We’ll go together,” I say.
Tony flinches for the briefest moment, but covers it with an overenthusiastic nod. “Then let’s roll out.”
The few patrons in the gallery stare at us like we’re a pack of wild animals as we walk across the open room. We push into the back staircase and stalk up toward the office. I just hope that Ava isn’t working today or, if she is, she’s out on a job that will keep her away from the office.
My worlds are colliding, and I don’t like it one single bit.
I slam my fist against Adrian’s office door. After a pause, Tony grunts, “Fuck this.” He shoulders the door open and barges in. Dante glances at me as if to say, He needs to chill. And he’s right. The last thing to do when blood has been spilled is to lose your cool.
Adrian leaps up from his desk, snatching off his headset. His eyes pop when they land on me, and his face drains of color. “What the hell are you doing?” he demands.
Tony pulls out his gun and points it at Adrian. “We’re asking the questions here!”
“Fucking hell, Tony,” I snarl. “Put that thing away.”
Tony reluctantly shoves it into his waistband. Dante leans against the wall near the door, and I walk to the other side of the desk. Tony stands at my side, seething.
“You need to tell me why one of my men was butchered like an animal,” I growl. “And why the painting you outbid me for is sitting in that motel room.”
Adrian narrows his eyes, staring at me like I’ve just spoken a foreign language. “Jesus Christ, Bellini. I don’t know what you’re babbling about.”
Tony starts walking around the desk, reaching for his gun again.
“Stop,” I snarl. “Right fucking now.”
Tony stops, moving from foot to foot, glaring at me, then at Adrian. “He’s lying, cousin.”
“Maybe so, and if he is, we’ll make him sing,” I snarl. “But on my terms.”
Adrian looks at Tony in disgust, then slowly turns back to me. “I literally don’t know what you’re talking about… or how many goddamn ways I can tell you I’m not involved in the mob. I’ve got a friend who’s in the mob, that’s it.”
“So it’s just a coincidence that the painting is there, like a signature, like a damn threat. Is it?”
“Let me call my warehouse. They can check the CCTV. Someone must’ve broken in and taken it.”
Tony throws his hands up. “Cousin, are we seriously going to listen to this shit?”
I drop into the seat opposite, shrugging. “Hell, it can’t hurt,” I say. “Have them send the video through.”
“He could’ve staged a theft,” Tony says. “That’s easy to do.” My cousin’s face is going red, sweat sliding down his forehead in glistening beads.
“Relax,” I say. “We’ll find out soon enough.”
Tony paces, running his hand through his hair. Adrian makes the call, talking to his people at the warehouse. I turn, look at Dante, see if he’s clocking the same thing I am… Tony is too damn nervous about this.
My mind begins to churn out possibilities. If someone wanted to frame Adrian and the Hungarians for this, stealing the painting would be a good way to do it.
Adrian hangs up. For two minutes, we sit in this awkward in-between state, Tony pacing, Adrian staring, and me hoping that my cousin hasn’t betrayed me, that he hasn’t been behind every goddamn bad thing that’s happened to me in this city.
Adrian’s phone rings. He answers. “Right, good, thank you. Yes. I get you.”
He sets the phone down, chewing the inside of his cheek, glancing at Tony.
“Apparently, someone threatened the security guard,” he says carefully. “A man with bleached teeth, perfectly combed hair, and a neat, clean suit.”
Tony stops pacing, glaring at Adrian. “Nice try, you Hungarian fuck.”
“They’re sending the footage through now,” Adrian goes on. “Apparently, whoever this was didn’t realize we have internal security cameras. In the office. Hidden in case anything like this ever happened.”
“You’re a fucking liar!” Tony pulls out his gun and leaps at Adrian, pushing the barrel against his head.
I gesture at Dante, who immediately takes out his gun and aims it at Tony.
In the large window behind Adrian, life goes on as normal, people hurrying to and from meetings, couples walking hand in hand, unaware that any second bullets could start flying.
“You stupid fuck,” I growl, glaring at Tony. “Why would you kill Nico? How far does this go? Did you send those men after me last year? Did you force Nico to lie about Ava being dead? Why, Tony?”
Tony prods Adrian with his gun. “This motherfucker’s lying!”
“Killing him won’t change anything,” I snarl. “We’ll get the footage either way.”
I’ve got to give it to Adrian. He stares at Tony without a hint of fear, his eyes dead calm, his breathing not even picking up. Adrian looks at me, even with Tony pushing the gun barrel against his head.
“Tale as old as time,” he grunts. “A mafioso who thinks he should be king.”
“Shut up,” Tony hisses.
“You’re going to eat a bullet if you drop him without my say-so, Cousin,” I growl, glaring at my cousin. “Put. The gun. Down.”
Tony licks his lips, looking at me with a manic glimmer in his eyes. His buffoon exterior falls away as a sick grin forms on his lips. And I realize my mistake, far too late… this prick has been playing me.
“How long have you been a rat?” I snap.
“I’m no rat,” he counters. “I’m just a man who understands all your high-and-mighty shit isn’t going to get us very far. I know what it means to make real money, not just money playing the Good Samaritan. You think I’m the only one who wants to make some real cash?”
“So you betrayed your kin so you could turn our family into a drug-dealing, human-trafficking mess,” I say coldly.
Behind us, the door swings open. We all turn instinctively.
When I see Ava, my heart clenches in my chest. She was never meant to see this side of my life, and now she’s just walked straight into it.
Ava’s eyebrows shoot up. “Adrian?” she yells.
Adrian bellows. I turn to see him wrestling with Tony for the gun. The gun goes off, shattering the window of Adrian’s office. Adrian grunts and backhands Tony. The gun drops in the process.
Tony steps back, mouth agape.
“This is it,” I growl. “Time to surren—”
I never would’ve thought Tony had it in him. Instead of surrendering, he turns and throws himself out the window.
I rush to the window, staring down in disbelief as he runs down the street. Lamenting we’re only on the second floor.