Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Chloe
One month… shit…
The stairs creak under my feet as I climb to the second floor, heading for my room. My hands shake with the adrenaline still coursing through my veins as I reach for my doorknob.
I am either the bravest person alive or the stupidest. I just agreed to move in with a complete and utter stranger.
And not just any stranger, a dangerous one, a predator.
Men don’t just move the way Basili moves or command that kind of respect and carry that type of barely controlled lethal edge unless they are used to getting their hands dirty.
Fear that I was walking right back into the kind of life I had run away from at sixteen floods through me. Only this time, I’ll be walking into it willingly.
I take a deep breath, attempting to chase the anxiety away as I grab a backpack from the closet and begin stuffing things into it.
Jeans, shirts, my sweater, underwear, bras, socks.
Heading to the small Jack and Jill bathroom that connects my room and Jay’s, I grab my toothbrush, toothpaste, and hairbrush, and return to throw them in the bag just as heavy footsteps sound in the hallway.
Jay appears in the doorway a moment later, his face drawn in hard, worried lines. The bruise on his cheek is dark and angry; the split in his lip is still red and swollen.
“Chloe, oh thank God.” His shoulders slump in relief until he catches sight of the bag on the bed. “What are you doing?”
“Packing,” I say simply, not offering any further explanation, genuinely not sure how to explain my decision to him when I can’t even reason it out for myself.
“You’re going with them?” he asks in a shocking realization, stepping into the room and lightly grabbing me by my arm, forcing me to turn and face him.
“Emmanuel needs me —”
“What Emmanuel needs is professional help. Therapy. Time to recover.” Jay says firmly. “Not you. I know you feel guilty for——”
“Not guilty. Responsible. There’s a difference.” I yank my arm away from him, whirling to grab the bag off the bed. “I’m going, Jay, and that’s final.”
“Look, Chloe, I know you care about that boy. I know you want to help him. But moving in with this guy is not the answer! Do you have any idea what sort of man you’re dealing with here? Did you see the heat those guys downstairs are carrying?”
“I saw. I’m still going. Basili is just a man, scared to lose his son, like any good father would be,” I say dismissively, zipping up the bag and throwing it over my arm before turning to face him.
“You and I both know he is a lot more than that, Chloe. He’s dangerous.
” Jay has his arms crossed, blocking my doorway, and he stares me down with a disapproving look.
“I’ve lived long enough to know that when there’s that kind of militia following a guy around, there’s a damn good reason.
You should know that even better than I do. ”
I’d already come to the obvious conclusion that Basili and Emmanuel are a part of the Italian Crime Family, but I haven’t yet put the entire puzzle together. He is high-ranking; that’s for sure. The way that the other men take orders from him without question had been a dead giveaway.
“So what?” I challenge, not willing to admit that the fact that I was walking right back into the world I’d left behind scared the hell out of me. “So, he’s dangerous; that’s even more reason to help Emmanuel. And right now, I’m the only one that he trusts.”
Both Jay and I stand in silence for a long moment, the seconds ticking away into minutes. Finally, he takes a deep, resigned sigh and speaks first.
“You always were stubborn.” His voice holds an element of amusement, an effective way to cover the worry that plagues his eyes. “I’m not going to win this one, am I?”
“No.”
He sighs again, moving to wrap his arms around me in a bear hug, and I let myself lean into him for a moment, letting the feeling of safety from the one person who has been there for me the last ten years without fail envelope me completely.
“Alright then, keep your phone on you and call the authorities at the first sign of trouble. Then call me, and I’ll find a way to bring you home.” He pulls back and looks down at me with a fatherly smile, “You always have a home here. Always have, always will. Just promise me you will be careful?”
I nod, agreeing to the same promise I’d made not long before now. The same promise I’ve already ignored once. “I promise.”
A knock on the doorframe makes us both turn. It’s Basili with Emmanuel by his side. The boy’s face is tear-stained, eyes red and puffy.
“It’s time to go.”
Stepping around Jay, I move to follow Basili outside, but as I approach, Emmanuel reaches for me. Gently, Basili hands him over, taking my bag in a polite exchange. His face is unreadable, not angry but not happy either, as he watches his son burrow into my neck.
“It’s okay,” I murmur, rubbing my hand along the boy’s back as I attempt to soothe him. “I’m coming with you. I’m not leaving you.”
He doesn’t respond besides tightening his grip around my neck.
Jay walks up, down the stairs, and out the back door.
Someone has put a temporary fix on it, a small ward against the cold outside.
The wind bites as we step out into the October night, making Emmanuel shiver in my arms. A sleek black Cadillac Escalade is waiting for us, the tailpipe puffing white into the darkness.
Omero is in the driver’s seat, his profile illuminated by the lights of the dashboard. Raffaello’s there, leaning against the passenger door, his eyes tracking us as we approach. He straightens as we get closer, moving to open the back door.
“We’ll be warm in a minute. Omero has the heater running for you,” I whisper to Emmanuel. “Time to go home, sweetie.”
I slide into the back seat, adjusting Emmanuel into my lap. Basili climbs in beside me, his long legs taking up most of the remaining space along the bench seat.
“Boss?” Raffaello’s voice is hesitant as he questions Basili’s decision to ride in the back.
“Go on.” Basili waves a hand at the front seat, reaching for the door and pulling it shut. Waiting for Raffaello to climb in before continuing, he explains, “I’m not letting Emmanuel out of my sight or my reach anytime soon. You two will just have to adjust.”
I twist back in my seat to glance back at Jay as the expensive engine purrs, Omero guiding it out of the alley behind the orphanage. He raises one hand to wave softly, perhaps a goodbye or maybe in good luck.
I wonder if I’ll ever come back here… The thought of never seeing Jay or the children again tears at my heart, but the reality is, I genuinely don’t know what the future has in store.
Emmanuel is already falling asleep against me, exhausted from crying and the emotional rollercoaster he just can’t seem to find a reprieve from. I stroke his hair gently, keeping my movements rhythmic and soothing.
The SUV glides over the freeway through the dark, the only light from the streetlights and the dashboard of the vehicle itself.
The clock on the radio ticks minute by minute.
I must have fallen asleep at one point because one moment it was just after 10:45 pm, and the next it is creeping toward 1:00 am.
Blinking the sleep away, I sit up. Emmanuel is still nestled in my lap, and my left leg is desperately begging for a reprieve.
The tingling shooting up my calf and into my thigh is overwhelming as I gently shift him to my other side.
When he stirs as if he might wake, I reach my hand up to his hair, running my fingers through his short locks in a repetitive motion, soothing him until he settles.
“Where are we?” I ask quietly, looking at Basili. But it is the hulking giant in the driver’s seat who answers.
“Just outside of Claysville, Pennsylvania. We’re still about six and a half hours from home, I’m afraid.”
“Pennsylvania?” I’m trying to digest what he’s telling me. “Six and a half hours to where?”
I can feel the panic starting to rise in my chest; I had assumed they were from Ohio. Both Cincinnati and Cleveland are known to have an overtly healthy crime family presence. I had just assumed, wrongly, I now realize, that one of the nearest major cities is where we would be going.
“New York, Ma’am,” he replies, looking to Basili for direction on revealing anything further through the rear view mirror.
It takes effort to look at him over his son’s sleepy figure, but with a little bit of twisting, I manage it.
“New York State?” I press Basili.
A sly grin sneaks across his all too handsome face, a devious glint appearing in his eyes — one so bright that I could see it even in the dim lighting of the vehicle.
“New York City,” he finally reveals.
Oh, shit… There will be no calling Jay to come and rescue me. As if sensing the panic rising, someone in the front seat clears their throat, drawing my attention.
“We, uh, well, at least I wanted to thank you, Ms. —?” Omero speaks, his eyes flipping from the road ahead of us as he drives to my face in the rearview.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name. I guess we haven’t been properly introduced.
I’m Omero Montanti, the boss’s right-hand man,” the statement is made with a bit of a smile and obvious pride, “and this chipper soul here is Raffaello Verte.”
A grunt follows from Raffaello; the man is obviously not the friendliest of the bunch. Then again, I wouldn’t exactly call Basili friendly. Omero is the only one amongst them that seems to be half decent company.
“Chloe Tao, nice to meet you Omero, Raffaello,” I respond loud enough to be heard over the road noise but quiet enough to be sure I don’t wake Emmanuel. “But please, call me Chloe.”
“That’s a unique last name; where did you grow up?” Omero inquires then.
The panic starts to rise again; the last thing I need is for them to figure out who my father is. And the very last place I want to be going is back to New York, where I had grown up.