"I have an underground bunker not a mile away with everything we could possibly need to annihilate these usurpers."
"No time, it's covered," and he's talking on that fucking headset. I need a fucking headset. He opens the back of a military-grade hummer and tosses each of us a headset.
"I'm a professional." I nod watching as he uncovers Goliath, Ak47's, Ak15's, various Glocks, you name it.
"He likes to be prepared. He hasn't changed."
He pulls out a tablet and opens it.
"Here," he points. "They are arriving now." We could see red dots scattering through my front trees, still three miles out. He clicks and shifts. A Google map of the highway, "Here, is their back up."
"Well, Fuck. We can exit out the back way, Boss. Live to fight another day," Tank says always inserting himself to protect my machismo.
"No need," my fucking cousin says. "Boys light em up"
Headlights shine through the heavy trees blocking the morning sun providing a perimeter arc around us.
"They'd have to be fucking mountain climbers to reach us from another way." He grins.
"You fucking professional. Okay now, how do I work this headset?" He shows me and the boys. Names our handles, Boss, Boss’s—Right, Boss’s—Left.
"I like it," Sylver says. Making us all jump.
"This fucker can talk! Okay, grab what you need." Donny instructs.
No one comments as Sylver unloads a Glock from his pants leg, two additional guns from his back strap and waist, and a knife blade, I'm not sure where it came from.
"You want a rifle?" Sylver nods. "My men are going to let a few of each group through. We need to gather some Intel and they are positioned as snipers. We will be the only ground we have, if we kill em all, no intel." He looks to me.
"What the fuck I got it."
He narrows his eyes. "Okay Boss, lead us on."
"Boss, Tommy's taking your girl to safe room three," advantageous my place has tunnels for escape built. A couple of modifications and you have a fortress with multiple escape routes. It's the dumbass criminal, who believes no one's coming for them.
The enemy came into view roughly 300 yards out. Their men appeared more like bruisers, what we call natural barreled chested boxers. Nothing, not their movement, noise level, or weapons spoke stealthy soldiers. No doubt the Kanun had taken advantage of brothers with blood oaths to come to do the grudge work. This could have been a street brawl if not for the assault weapons, and explosives we were packing. Our enemies were moving cautiously as they counted dead bodies of their fallen on the ground. Now, they knew we were killers. The deterrent ignored just fueled them with revenge. Ten men screamed and moved aggressively forward weapons cocked. I wanted to throw a grenade and blast them all. Yet, I would not justify the look Donny directed at me, earlier while we had the "talk."
As I was trying to decide which of the assholes to shoot first, they split up to approach us from both directions. "Tank" I motioned to follow me. Sylver followed Donny. If they had not been fired up with revenge for the carcasses of their comrades' maybe they would have paid more attention. Screaming and grunting they moved fast and passed right by us. Now we were hunting them nearly 100 yards from behind.
Donny and Sylver
In the North, Donny watched Sylver aim at the center of a tree just as a man brought his head around slightly to look. He never got a chance to see. Sylver's bullet blasted out, pushing aside the air until the tip of the bullet hit the man's forehead, veered to the right, piercing a cornea. His head snapped back, just before the bullet left the backside of his skull and he dropped to the ground.
"Nice shot."
Sylver grunted. His thanks, I guess.
"Three men down, here," Donny answered for Sylver.
He nodded.
"Four men down, here." Overachievers.
"That leaves three let's see if we can take em alive."
Tomas n Tank
"Boss, Let's get this fucker."
"Alive Tank, breathing. But yeah let's get em."
Shortly after, a headlight surveyed the area, causing our position to lose its integrity. Tank stepped out in front to shield my presence and fired a shot to his leg. Our last man to capture retaliated, Tank fell to the ground. I fell along with him for a moment, checked for movement, "Fuck! Tank." I couldn't detect any rise or fall from his still body. My concern had wavered my attention from our enemy. The thug took advantage. I quickly picked myself up from the ground, but not fast enough.
The first thrust then twist of the blade between my ribs sparked a disconnect. Lock and cage separated. My pulse raced, the heat of Beast pacing building inside my body. Beast broke free detaching Me from everything before the second blade cut to my chest just missing my heart.
Beast
The purity of the darkness powered me. Needs, Tomas anxiously forced far away and eventually chipped at his soul, always diluted my energy. I would eat them, the weak emotions, and succumb suckling for strength. A maniac with evil plowing through my veins I tackled a body to the ground. The earth spoke to me as it drank my blood, but he was mine now. Any loss I incurred… ignored, I attacked tooth and grip, savagely delighting as the resonating crunch, my molars had made broke through cartilage detaching the nose clean off its face. The violent screams were incredible. Our cries were the same. I watched as he realized more blood than he could afford flowed from his face, into his eyes, around his jaws, down his chin. He grabbed at his face dropping his weapon of choice. Now he'd pay, slice after slice he bled. Somehow, the earth opened, welcoming his blood along with mine. This was satisfying. Someone shouted in the distance. Never mind them, the mad man's suffering eased mine and freedom was in his last breath.
But we must keep it together.
"Remember what you're about," She whispered, the lady in white. Or Donny?
"Donatello?"
"Yeah."
"They were better knife throwers than assault weapon yielding assholes." He laughs and I try.
"Fuck" I raise myself from the ground and realize I'm nauseous. I kick the bloody mess who'd attacked me and killed Tank.
"Whoa," Donny says catching me before I tumble back to the ground.
"That fucker killed Tank."
"No, Tank's good. Stabbed in the ankle, hit his head on something passed out. That's why he dropped like that. Hurts like a bitch, I outta' know."
"Fuck my mouth taste like shit."
He nods.
"What are we waiting for let's join the boys."
"You should clean yourself first."
"Right, we had this conversation before." Donny's laugh falls short.
"I think that Fucker stabbed me in my side." And as everything around me turns black, I hear him reply,
"We almost made it to the house, shit."
CHAPTER 22
Misery
Evee
"Evee, where are you?" Cynthia whispers into the phone.
"Why are you whispering?" I whisper back.
"The line might be tapped."
I don't reveal the issues with that logic, that whispering would not help.
"I'm still here, with Tomas," noting warnings from everyone to say as little as possible with my limited one call. However, Cynthia has lived with or around criminals her entire life. She can smell bullshit.
"Some shit went down ... you are being held there ... the property is on high alert...
Do I need to search and retrieve?"
She's been sitting at home binge-watching NCIS.
"No, Ziva, bit you're Intel is remarkably accurate. I'm impressed."
"Don't be, I called Jengo when you didn't come home the first week and sent me that weak-ass text. I asked him had anything gone down recently. He said yes. Do I need to stop the property search for the center until you're available?"
"No. Keep going with the realtor when he calls to look at properties. Accept three of the best and send them to me. I'll be back soon, ok."
"Gangstas and
their shit, I leave the ghetto for the mob. Only me, Chica. Only me."
"I love how my situation is all about you. When we met, you lived in a cul-de-sac, hardly the ghetto. I'll talk or see you soon."
As I stand at the foot of Tomas's Adonis body with a Kathy, from 'Misery' type of reverence. I push away selfish thoughts of how to hold such a man. What will I do or what am I willing to do to secure my future to his?
Tomas does not stir; the doctor has placed him in an induced coma, short-term until his body heals internally. No one has questioned my presence during this sensitive time… if I am trustworthy? The likelihood, I am being kept as an expendable witness is huge. One thing is for certain, Tank is not going to let them touch me until his Boss gives an order. I've caught whispers of talk, what must have been an attempt on his life. But nothing more. Yes, I am a prisoner here; but a willing one for the moment. Two weeks since the incident occurred. I sit on the California King sized bed made for four people, or one very large one and two smaller companions. Careful I do not disturb his side; the memory foam mattress performs as promised.
Without the determined conqueror expression, he appears much younger and approachable.
"He will wake soon and will be groggy… in and out for a couple of days. He can have ice chips until he can sit up fully. No food, and no candy bars, broth for two or three days, after introducing soft foods. I'll return in a week unless you call," the doctor, a man possibly in eighties smiles.
"Candy bars? He is a health-conscious freak. Why would he ask for processed sugar?"
"We all have our two sides, hmm?" He leaves with quick steps that have me rethinking his age.
I look over at Tank and he shrugs. I don't bother to look at Sylver's dead cold face, he hasn't even blinked in the last twenty minutes. Maybe he's dipping in the doctor's bag.
Tank messages someone, Donny I guess. "They're sending a nurse."
"I do not want any wom-- anyone near him."
We have not had sex; he is not even my boyfriend. Yet, I've shown my hand. Everyone is glaring at me.
"I mean, are they trustworthy. Of course, you know best." I bite my lip and look away. I want to cry out, "No, he's mine, mine, mine!" I do not.
"She's treated him before."
"Oh, okay." He smiles. I turn my head away.
The nurse arrives and walks in she must be the Docs younger wife, ten years younger. She is maybe a day under seventy. I let out a breath I did not realize I had been holding.
Tank was watching me; he laughs shaking his head. "Fucker," I say as he passes me to go out the door. Sylver leaves with him and sits just outside the door.
The nurse looks at me, assessing my role here maybe. "You want to help me bathe him, or do I call Mr. West back in?"
My eyebrows come together.
"You call him Tank." I notice her accent.
"No, I'll help. What do I do?"
"Up, on the bed," she directs me and rolls him towards me, "Hold him here." She leaves and his weight surprises me, how did she handle him, effortlessly. When she returns she cocks an eyebrow? He's slipped a little.
"He's even heavier than he looks."
She smiles, "Yes, a lot of man. When he was born I told my brother there must have been two babies and this one ate the other one before coming out." She wags her white eyebrows. I laugh as she slips a waterproof mat under our... patient. She bathes Tomas while I hold his arms, legs, and body as she rolls him towards me, again. She cleans his backside. I think no way I was going to let some perky young nurse touch him in this way while he's vulnerable. We dress him which takes more skill than brawn. I'm impressed with our efforts.
"Okay, I'm going to take a nap. We moved him a great deal, might stir our Tomas awake, soon." She isn't clocking in and out.
"I was a nurse, but I'm also his great aunt, Ernesto's younger sister. And you are?"
Hmm, nobody, a friend, a prospect? His virgin? The thought makes me smile.
"I was asking for a name, not your position." Sly old fox she is.
"Evelyne Basso."
"Juliana Massimo Garko-Bene." She touches my arm, "A beautiful girl for the Beast."
A too-short laugh escapes me.
Beast?
Left alone with their treasure, but not exactly alone. His two guards lurk in the hallway. I daydream.
The story of Tomas and his first wife, as two teenagers who fell in love, is bittersweet. It shows his ability to form attachments and deal with loss. I am jealous.
I can imagine Celia's awe gazing at a young Tomas, his eyes staring back into hers the color of warm honey, saying I'll do whatever you ask. Shit, he was beautiful now, long dark lashes, olive skin the sun could kiss light bronze, a few scars of his trade here and there. His skin would have been free from blemish. Of course, skipping any awkward acne fazes. Infatuated her passion overwhelming, she most likely felt irrational and uncontrollably obsessed. Or am I describing myself? Well, she probably thought herself the luckiest of any other. The folly of a young girl's heart believing in a forever love. Was it worth the deathly cost?
A small voice whisper, yes. I obtain, paper and pen and doodle. I title it
'Being In Love,'
If I were a whittler, I'd carve into every tree,
Inside a big heart, Tomas, and Evee
If I were an author, I'd write a love story
Where we lived many lifetimes, together.
If I were a singer, I'd write a song foretelling our forever love.
Good grief, I sigh. He's reduced me to a thirteen-year-old girl who's read too many TA romance novels. 'Forever, ever, ever, love' I internally gag. I have many obstacles along the path of forever love. If the path even exists. I look over to my sleeping beast and my heart says it does.
Tomas moans, Tank, Sylver, and Tommy, whom I haven't seen since he held me captive in the dungeon, appear within seconds of each other.
"I'm hungry." We all laugh.
"Boss, you're good, now. A few bumps and scrapes, but you are healing. Doc says no food yet."
Tomas tilts his head and looks directly at me, angrily, menacing. Is it the drugs? Should I not be here? Oh no, I should not be here. I get up quickly.
'I'll just be in the kitchen."
"Sit." A raspy demand comes. Immediately he falls back to sleep. I sit.
I supply grumpy Tomas ice chips through the night. He's an asshole patient, conscious. The longer he is awake the more awful he gets. The nurse, his aunt disregards his nastiness.
"It's the anesthesia wearing off," she says after a slew of offensive words he growls.
Now we're alone again. A pillow to his face would be a quick yet dishonorable death for the crazy warrior man.
"Come here."
I don't move.
"I know you're there I smell you." I do a quick hygiene check even though I've been showering and swimming in his gigantic porcelain clawfoot tub. I'm sure it was custom made to fit him plus two.
"Now, little rabbit."
I move cautiously.
"There you are. Water!" I look at the pillow. "That's not what you want." The smile of the devil himself appears. He drinks the water from the melted ice chips. I am not sure he was supposed to do that.
"I have a story for you. Are you ready to hear it?
A smart remark is on the tip of my tongue. I nod.
"Right, but not easy little rabbit, what is my name?"
Okay, his aunt was correct the anesthesia has him bonkers.
"Tom—"
"No!" he growls hard enough he coughs. When he calms he says again.
"What is my name? What she calls us when I am wicked."
He grins at me like a naughty little boy. My poor Tomas is a lightweight, possibly allergic to certain narcotics. I make a mental note to tell the doctor. His aunt, I am certain, has misjudged the severity of his shifting loopiness and angry states.
"They call you," I correct his pronoun, "sometimes Force?" He nods and waits. "Umm, they called you Beast first
, afterward they named the Beast, Force?" Repeating verbatim what he had told me on the terrace.
"Yes, say it again."
"Force." He shakes his head.
"Beast?" His whole body shivers.
"Again."
"Beast," I say before I decide to end our strange conversation and go to get help. I raise just a little.
"Sit."
I sit.
"One more thing."
I nod.
"I want to be the one to take your innocence."
Is this new, news? I chuckle at my wit. "Sure."
"When this time comes you call. You say Beast, Beast. You call me. I'm going to hurt you, wound you. You are strong, beautiful—he tilts his head— a liar, my little rabbit. You will live..."
At that point, this delicious lunatic tells me a very creative story about a woman in white and how he came to be. I'm falling for a fruit loop. I guess we will make a pair.
"I have questions."
"About?"
"La Familia. I saw in the news, Tomas Garko, alive." I left off the portion describing him as the scum who never dies. "Why did you want everyone to believe you were dead?"
Dangerous questions I asked. However, Beast chattered on like a running faucet with no stop, feeding me details I could use. I just hoped we were not interrupted, too soon.
"Do you always offer Tomas' secrets?"
"Public information."
"Why has your family in New York almost but disbanded?"
"Internet search Mafia Family leaves New York. Look up Albanian Diaspora. The phone, it's there in the drawer."
Fuck me. I had access to the Internet and text, all this time. I never thought to snoop the bedroom, so unlike me. The phone powers up, and at once, pings, ping, and ping, repeatedly with messages. We wait. He is missed. I read to him pieces of my search.
'Nearly, thirty years ago a diaspora in Albania. Eventually to Italy, G, Kosovo, and even the United States seven years ago.'
"Search, Illyrian trafficking."
The search brings up, Illyrian Mafia, Shqiparte Mafia. Smuggling, Humans, Cocaine... I choose Illyrian.
'Illyrian Mafia collaborates with the most powerful and globalized of the Italian mafias.'
For Blood and Beast: Tomas, For Blood (Garko Book 1) Page 14