MATEO

by K. L. Savage

  “What is it?”

  “Nothing,” I hiss. “Get the men back.”

  “No. They are traitors. You need new blood here. Trust me, Mateo. Out with the old, in with the new. I’m bringing in men from Italy.”

  “Zio, the business there—”

  “—Can move here. It is not a big deal. My family needs me. We will bring the business here. Are you up for being boss again?” Zio asks with a chuckle, “because I’m getting too old to be in charge.”

  Slot machines chime in the background and then he growls, “And I’m so sick of hearing these damn slot machines. Put me in a quiet room, like security. I can do security, just please, get me the fuck out of here. Fucking coglioni, everywhere.”

  I chuckle at his insult of some of the customers.

  “You got it, Zio. Thank you, for everything. I appreciate everything you have done for me and Natalia while I’ve been… getting back on my feet.” I don’t know another way to put my situation.

  “Ah, I’m sorry it took so long for me to get here, Mateo. That’s a story for another time, though. Go deal with the Kings. I’ll deal with this shit show.”

  “Shit show?” I’m alarmed. The last thing a businessman wants to hear is his business being described as a shit show.

  I stuff my wallet in the back pocket of my trousers just as Natalia walks into the kitchen. Her hair is up and she’s wearing a cobalt blue dress with sleeves that come down to her elbows.

  “People fucking winning. It’s annoying. I’ll see you soon.” Zio hangs up the phone and a dial tone fills the line next.

  I exhale a heavy breath as the right side of my temple starts to throb and the pulsating drifts down my neck to my shoulder. It’s one of the few spots that will forever be scarred by the burns I received from the explosion. Sometimes, they fucking hurt. It’s like the nerves are on fire all over again.

  “You okay, Papa?”

  I tuck my phone in my pocket and smile at Natalia. “I’m fine. I just talked to your Zio.”

  “Zio Maximo? You let him out?”

  “I will never let him out,” I hiss, twisting my neck to try to relieve the pressure building in my muscles. “Ever. I will never forgive him for what he did to you. I never want you to go down to the basement, understand?”

  Natalia opens the fridge and grabs a coconut water. “Si, Papa. I understand. I don’t want to see him. He betrayed me. I still dream about the room they shoved us in, and I remember the fear I felt. Believe me Papa, I never want to see him again either.”

  “Brava ragazza,” I answer softly, relieved, then wrap her in a tight hug. Ever since my memory came back, I’ve made sure to hug her and tell her how much I love her every day. I never used to. The man I was before the accident was callous and cold. But the experience of losing my entire identity, then gaining it back, changed something inside me.

  I don’t know what exactly it changed, but I’m figuring it out.

  All I know is that I’m different, and the only way to move forward is if I embrace it.

  “I have to go see the Ruthless Kings today. Come with me.”

  “I don’t want to go there, Papa. I’m not ready to see them.”

  “Selfishly, I need you there. They might not kill me with my daughter at my side.” I play knock her chin with my knuckles, and she lowers her lashes, swallowing thickly. “I fucked up, Natalia. I turned my back on them, for a damn good reason, but it’s time to own up. Always own your fuckups. Even it’s a damn drag.” I grab the car keys off the table and Natalia laughs at me. “What?”

  She takes a swig of her coconut water. “Nothing. I mean, you just said ‘drag.’ You’re different, but in a good way. You aren’t so uptight and stressed out. If you need me there, of course I’ll be there for you. It’s the least I can do. You loved me even when you didn’t even remember me. If that isn’t a good Papa, I don’t know what is.”

  I cup her jaw and brush my thumb over her cheek. “I might have forgotten my memories, but my heart remembered I had a daughter. That’s all that matters.” I kiss her forehead and hand her the keys. “Come on, you’ll drive. I don’t feel like it.”

  “You’re letting me drive the Jaguar?” she gasps in disbelief, clapping a hand to her mouth to hide her smile.

  Oh, that smile. Bellissima. She smiles just like her mother.

  I open the armoire and grab an extra gun, tucking it under my navy blue blazer and into the waistband of my pants. “Si, why? What’s the big deal? It’s just a car.”

  “You never let anyone drive the Jag. In fact, you hardly ever drove it until recently. You always had a driver.”

  “I know, but I think having a driver is pointless now. I’m capable of driving.”

  “Yeah? Is that why you’re having me drive?” she sasses, the keyring spinning circles around her index finger.

  “Exactly. Why pay for a driver when I have a daughter?” I joke, taking extra bullets from the drawer at the last second.

  “Funny. You seem to have gained a sense of humor in your… recovery.”

  “And I seemed to have raised a cheeky daughter. Let’s go.” I shove her out the door, keeping my strength light and playful so I don’t hurt her. She giggles as we step out into the sunlight. It’s warm, the hint of spring in the air and inhale, thankful I can remember what season it is now.

  She unlocks the car, and her heels click against the cement as she heads around to the driver’s side. I beat her to it and open the door for her. “I won’t let my daughter open her own door. Take note.”

  Natalia rolls her eyes as she gets in the car, settling against the red leather. I run around the other side and slide into the passenger seat, loving the buttery softness of the headrest against my head. “You know where to go?” I question her.

  Her manicured nails grip the gear shifter and put the car in reverse. “Si, Papa.”

  “Brava.” I reach behind me and pull the seatbelt across my chest.

  We have an hour drive before we get to the clubhouse, which is way too far for my liking, so that will have to change soon. I’ll need to get a place where I can hide Maximo. He’s gone from my brother to a disgusting pet who begs for his life every day.

  I don’t know how I’m going to convince the Kings.

  I have an hour to figure it out.

  An hour later and I still have no i-fucking-dea what I’m going to say. I’m going to have to wing it.

  I put down the visor and look into the mirror. At least I’m going to look good doing it. Sonofabitch, it’s a good hair day.

  “I don’t have a good feeling about this,” Natalia says as the tires dip into the potholes. “They are going to be so fucking pissed.”

  “Si, but they have a right to be angry with me. I hope they can forgive me. They are good people.”

  “Says the torture chamber they have in the basement.”

  “And the dungeon we have in ours?” I tug on my cufflink, bored of the conversation of what’s considered good or evil.

  I think good manifests itself with bad intentions, but it’s the outcome that matters most. If it helps the majority, then that is all that matters.

  We come to a stop at the gate and Braveheart stands in the middle right behind it. He cocks his head and grinds his jaw when he realizes who it is. He pulls out his phone and calls someone. I can’t hear what he is saying, but it doesn’t take a genius to know he is royally pissed the fuck off.

  “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

  The gate opens, the metal creaking as it allows us access to the clubhouse. Braveheart draws his gun and aims it directly at me. A red laser is shining against my chest.

  “Yeah, it’s a fucking party,” Natalia grumbles, pressing her foot on the gas.

  We creep forward slowly, the target never leaving my chest. Braveheart backs up to allow us more space and bikers fill the front porch. Every single one of them have their arms crossed.

  The two men I don’t see are Reaper and Bullseye. “Fuck.”

&n
bsp; “What?” Natalia says as we park.

  “Reaper is not here.” My eyes land on Tool and my mouth kicks to the side. “Which might work in my favor.” I remember when I asked him to suck my cock. Now, I am a man that does prefer the softness of a woman’s body against mine, but every now and then I like to indulge in a man. I haven’t seen one who piques my interest in a while. There’s no doubt, Tool is a sexy man. I know there isn’t a chance in hell. But I can make him uncomfortable.

  Like I said, fun.

  “Stay in the car,” I tell Natalia as I grip the handle.

  “Hell no. I’m not letting you get out of the car alone. I’m to stay by your side, remember?”

  “Stubborn.” The door clicks open when I pull on the latch.

  “Wonder where I learned that?” she whips in return.

  I grin, climbing out of the Jag, when a bullet lands next to my shoe, kicking up dust onto my pantleg. There’s a hole in the ground, and I lift my hands in the air to show I’m here in peace.

  “Now, now, is that how we greet a friend?”

  Natalia stands next to me and Tool pounds down the steps, screwdriver on top of his ear. He is wearing a tight shirt that tightens across his chest and his jaw is so tight, I’m afraid it might break.

  “Tool, might I say, you look…” I lick my tongue across my teeth. “Real good.”

  In a quick move, he has his screwdriver pressed under my chin and his other hand wrapped around my throat. I’m pressed against the car and his chest is against mine.

  Ironically, I’m not liking this new position.

  “Cut the fucking shit, Moretti. You have a lot of explaining to do.”

  “I need to speak with Reaper.”

  “That’s too goddamn bad, Moretti. You’re stuck with me. He’s in New Orleans taking care of some business. You’re stuck with me. Keep your cock sucking comments to yourself, because I am not in a playful mood after the shit you pulled. And it’s obvious you remember who you are, the other version of yourself wasn’t as fucking cheeky. Give me a good reason why I shouldn’t shove my screwdriver through your head.” His brown eyes glitter with fury and his entire body is tense, but beneath the anger, I can sense the disappointment.

  “My daughter is next to me.”

  “Slingshot! Take care of her,” Tool orders.

  I step in front of Natalia and knock Tool’s hand from my neck. The screwdriver scrapes against my skin and I sneer, “You won’t fucking touch her. No one will touch my daughter. Do you understand me? I am sorry for taking Maximo, but it is a family affair after what he did to Natalia, and I knew you wouldn’t let us go.”

  “Is he alive?”

  “Barely,” I answer Tool. “I came here after I’ve had all my accounts put back in order and the ownership of the hotel and casino put back in my name. I’ve stayed away, punishing Maximo, which he will get for as long as I please. I want us to be friends again. You and your members were nothing but kind to me, and I’m sorry I left how I did, but this is my daughter. Tell me, what would you do for your daughters?” I slide my eyes over all the members and my eyes land on Skirt, who is holding Joey against his chest. “Everything,” I growl. “Everything and anything. If you don’t agree with me, that’s on you as a man.”

  “Who has been running the casino?” Poodle asks.

  “My Zio.” Right, they don’t speak Italian. “My uncle. He came from Italy to help me and that’s where he has been staying, so you guys didn’t follow him to his home, where I have been.” I step away from Natalia and open the back door to the Jag and pull out a duffel bag. “I want to pay you for all of your treatment that you’ve given me. Truly, I appreciate it. I estimated and if there is more, let me know, but here is one million. Natalia, get in the car.”

  I drift my gaze to hers. She’s staring at Slingshot and his eyes are eating her alive.

  I don’t fucking like it. I pull out my gun and aim. All I have to do is pull the fucking trigger and a bullet will land between his eyes. “None of you are to touch Natalia. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Crystal,” Tool says.

  “Not fucking crystal,” Knives cuts in. “What he did to Mary—”

  “Was disgusting. I apologize. We can make an arrangement for you to extend your wrath.” I wave my hand in the air, bored of the conversation. There comes a time when a man must take a step back from a battle to realize he has already won. That’s me.

  I’ve won.

  “Daughter trumps ol’ lady. Apologies, Mary,” I say, because I know she’s hiding behind Knives. “If it makes you feel better, he’s chained in a dungeon not unlike your own here at this clubhouse. He will never see the sunlight again.”

  “As long as I don’t have to see him again, I’m fine.” She pokes her head out from Knives’ back.

  “You’ll never have to worry about that again. If you don’t mind, I need to get to the casino.”

  “This is not over, Moretti,” Tool warns. “Reaper is fucking pissed.”

  “I don’t doubt it, Tool.” I curl my lip when I see Slingshot opening the driver’s side door for Natalia. He dares to smirk at me as he shuts it, then flips me the middle finger as he leans against a motorcycle. “I’ll be in touch,” I say.

  “No, we will be. Don’t forget, when that casino blew up, you and Reaper had a deal. That casino you’re going back to doesn’t only belong to just you, Moretti. It belongs to us, too.”

  “I have not forgotten. Why do you think I’m mending this bridge? Paying you back? I want the Kings on my side. I’m not a stupid man.”

  “Could have fooled me.”

  I chuckle, unbutton my suit, then spin around and place the barrel of the gun under Tool’s chin.

  “No!” Juliette screams from the porch and tries to run down the steps, but Doc and Badge stop her.

  The clicks of a dozen other guns surround me, and I know they are pointed directly at my head, but I don’t give a fuck. “I am many things, Tool, but stupid is not one of them. You are a fool to think I won’t blow your fucking head off before your men get a bullet into me. I am forgiving, I am thankful, but I will not be insulted. I did what I had to do for my family. I was hoping the Kings could be a branch added to the tree.”

  I drop my weapon and slide into the car. “Have Reaper call me when he returns.” I slam the door and before I have a chance to buckle up, Natalia whips the car around, kicking up a massive cloud of dust and sand, and we get the hell out of the Kings’ territory.

  I’m high on adrenaline. I’ve forgotten what it is like to be a man in power. I’ve been empty for too long. The world is in my hands again. My cell phone rings, ripping me out of the high I’m experiencing.

  “Please, get that. I have a headache from the damn ringing in my ears. Damn, gunshot. Fuck,” she curses, tilting her head to the side as if she has water in her ear.

  I exhale and don’t bother looking at the screen when I answer. “What?” I snap.

  “Well, hello to you too.”

  “Zio, I’m on my way. We can talk then.”

  “I have a question. I have caller on the line. She’s asking if we she can reserve the penthouse suite, which I know has been off-limits. It’s for a birthday party.”

  “Give them the West wing penthouse. The East is mine.”

  “You should really have that fucking noted.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know I had to be without a memory for so long. So sorry to be an inconvenience.”

  “They make post-its for shit like that. Literally, you can never be too safe.”

  “Obviously,” I say impatiently. “We will talk when I get there. I’m fifteen minutes out.”

  “In fifteen, I’m handing you my resignation letter.”

  “Fanabla,” I curse him.

  “I will gladly meet you in hell, nephew. It’s better than being in charge, that much I can say for certain.” Zio hangs up on me, again, leaving me squeezing the phone too damn tight.

  Now I have a fucking headac
he.

  And I hate birthday parties. They are always so loud, and security always has to stop at least one person from stripping before jumping into the water fountain.

  Dio mio.

  “I’ll see you all next week,” Professor Wright announces, signaling the end of class.

  I gather my books and stuff them in my backpack, then sling it over my shoulder. I blow a piece of hair out of my face, then shove it behind my ear when I get impatient. I hate when my hair tickles my nose. It’s why I always try to have it up or in a braid, but I don’t have the courage to chop it off.

  I’ve been really thinking about it though. I’ve been getting scissor hungry, because this hair is getting to be too damn much.

  I head down the steps of the classroom, keeping to myself as everyone crowds the aisle to get out the door. I’m in my senior year at The University of Las Vegas, after taking a bunch of college courses in high school, and one of the few things I wanted to learn while I was here was how to be outgoing.

  I’m a double major in Business and Accounting, with a double minor in economics and political science. So yeah, I don’t have a ton of free time. But that’s okay. I’m a nerd. I like to read, and I don’t mean fiction. I like textbooks. I like dictionaries. I always want to learn because the only thing I know I can count on is my brain to get me places.

  I sure as hell can’t count on my looks, so that means I have to work harder. I’m a wallflower. I’m shy and awkward. Am I ugly? No. Am I going on America’s Next Top Model? No. I’m average, but in this world, looking average doesn’t get you to high places. That’s why I have to work my ass off to get to where I need to be. If I’m the smartest person in the room, then I’ll have a chance.

  I’m not like most people. I don’t party. I don’t have sex. I’ve never even kissed a boy. I’m too awkward, and I have this really bad habit of saying the definition of a word when I’m nervous. It’s gained me a few odd looks, which is fine. Being in love never did anything for my parents anyway. I’m better off alone.