by CW Browning
“You tell me, Angelo,” Frankie said, reaching for another piece of garlic bread. “You’re the one who pulled a gun on my guest and caused the deaths of two of my guards.”
Angelo sputtered and tried to twist his head to look for the guards in question but Stefan tightened the belt again, preventing him from turning his head.
“I didn’t kill anybody!” he yelped. “Yeah, I drew on her. So what? She’s not one of us.”
Frankie stared at him for a long moment, then slowly and deliberately put down his fork.
“I’ll give you one chance,” he said, holding up a long index finger. “One. Why?”
Angelo gaped at him, his eyes big, and sweat gathered on his forehead. Viper watched dispassionately as the man evaluated his options. It was clear that he was trying to determine how much Frankie already knew, and how much he could get away with saying. Unfortunately, he took too long and Frankie grew impatient. He nodded to Stefan and the belt was pulled tight around his neck again.
“How’s the wine?” Frankie asked Viper, looking at her.
“Very good,” she answered calmly, lifting the glass to her lips. “It’s a novello, no?”
He raised his eyebrows and smiled slowly in surprise.
“You know your wines,” he approved. “You’re a woman after my own heart.”
A choking sound pulled his attention back to the man in the chair and he watched as Angelo struggled, wrenching against the zip ties that bound him. Blood appeared at his wrists as the plastic cut through his skin, but it was doubtful if he realized it. Frankie nodded to Stefan and the pressure was eased again. As Angelo began gasping for air, Frankie pushed his chair back and stood, moving out from behind the table and walking toward the chair, the linen napkin from his lap still in his hand.
“Angelo, mio vecchio amico, you’ve been with me a long time,” he said. “How long has it been now? Twelve years?”
“Fourteen,” Angelo gasped out.
“Fourteen! And in all this time, haven’t I taken care of you?” Frankie asked. “Didn’t I see to it that your mother, God rest her soul, saw out her last years in relative comfort, with the best medical care money can buy?”
“Yes, boss.”
“And didn’t I step in when your son wanted to go to Brown? Didn’t I make sure his application was accepted?”
“Yes, boss.”
“Joey’s a lawyer now, isn’t he?” Frankie continued, his voice easy. “Works for a big firm in New York, isn’t that right?”
“Boss, I...” Angelo began but Frankie waved him silent.
“You know why I did those things?” he asked, looking down at him. “Because loyalty deserves reward. You had been loyal to me, and you earned the right to be rewarded.” Frankie looked at Stefan. “Take that belt away.”
Stefan lifted the leather strap over Angelo’s head and looked at his boss questioningly. While Angelo took deep breaths of free air, Frankie walked around the chair to join Stefan behind him. Without a word, he handed him the napkin and took the table knife, nodding to the back of Angelo’s head. Stefan gave a barely perceptible nod and Frankie moved around to Angelo’s other side.
“I don’t like seeing you tied down like this,” he said, laying his left hand on Angelo’s shoulder. “We’ve known each other too long for this. We should be able to trust each other.”
Angelo looked up at him, apprehension clear on his face.
“I do trust you,” he stammered. “You’re my Don.”
Frankie nodded and clapped his shoulder.
“That’s right,” he agreed amenably. “I am. The problem is that I no longer trust you.”
Stefan moved at the same time Frankie did, whipping the napkin around Angelo’s head to pull it tight across his mouth as Frankie drove the knife through the center of Angelo’s right hand. Angelo let out a scream that was muffled by the thick linen cloth pulled tightly across his lips.
Frankie turned to face him, placing a hand on either forearm and leaning down until he was inches from Angelo’s face.
“That’s for pulling a gun on my guest,” he told him. “Now tell me why.”
Angelo nodded and Stefan pulled the napkin away so he could speak.
“They’re giving ten grand to whoever kills her,” he gasped, sweat pouring down his face and mixing with the tears of pain streaming from his eyes. “She’s got a bounty on her head. I was just trying to make some money.”
Frankie straightened up and glanced over his shoulder at Alina. “You hear that?”
She nodded.
“Ten grand is a rip off,” she told Angelo. “I’ve had ten times that placed on my head. You made a bad choice.”
Frankie turned his gaze back to Angelo. “Who’s paying this ten grand?”
“The cartel,” Angelo said. “They’re offering it to anyone who gets to her.”
Frankie studied him in silence for a long moment.
“Tell me when you started working with the Mexicans.”
Angelo gulped. “I’m not—”
Stefan whacked him on the back of his head.
“No lies!” he snapped. “You tell your Don the truth.”
Angelo let out a noise similar to a whimper.
“Six months ago,” he gasped. “They said you’re on your way out. Face it, Frankie, they’re everywhere. They’re taking over. The Family can’t last much longer. Times change, and we have to change with them. They’re already taking over Reyes’ business. It’s just a matter of time before we’re next.”
“How much did they pay you?”
“They didn’t,” Angelo said miserably. “They threatened my wife.”
Frankie looked down at him, then shook his head.
“Angelo, you should have come to me first,” he said sadly. “This was all so unnecessary. I’ll always protect my Family.”
“I know, boss. I should have come to you.”
Frankie sighed again and bent down.
“Angelo, I’m going to pull this knife out of your hand now,” he said. “Can you keep quiet? Or do we need the gag again?”
Angelo shook his head violently.
“I’ll keep quiet.”
Frankie nodded and gripped the hilt of the knife.
“Ready?” he asked.
Angelo nodded, clenching his jaw shut, and Frankie yanked the knife out.
“Good man,” he said when Angelo let out only a muffled grunt. He leaned down again, his lips close to his ear. “Fourteen years, and it all comes down to this. Your loyalty is no longer to the Family, but mine will always be to yours.”
With a swift movement, Frankie drove the knife deep into the side of Angelo’s chest. Angelo’s mouth opened, but no sound came out as the blade pierced one of his lungs, robbing him of breath.
“Your family will be taken care of,” Frankie continued, pulling the knife out. “I see no reason for them to be punished with you.”
With those words, Frankie plunged the knife into his heart and stepped back, leaving the knife in his chest. He watched as Angelo died, then held out a hand. Stefan handed him the napkin, and Frankie began wiping the blood off his hands.
“Make arrangements for the bodies,” he told Stefan. “And make sure we know the names of everyone who’s working with the cartel. We need to clean this up before it gets any worse.”
Stefan nodded and pulled a cell phone out of his pocket. “On it.”
Frankie finished wiping his hands and dropped the bloody napkin into Angelo’s lap. Turning, he started back to the table where Alina waited.
“You knew about the bounty on your head?” he asked, circling to his chair.
“There are a lot of people coming after me,” she replied. “It wasn’t a surprise.”
“I owe you an apology that it happened in my house.” Frankie seated himself and looked at her. “There’s no excuse I can offer. It should never have happened. You came unarmed into a trap.”
Viper smiled faintly.
“I’m never unar
med. I don’t need a weapon to kill. They’re simply more expedient.”
Frankie watched her thoughtfully for a second, then sat back.
“Tell me how I can help.”
She met his gaze. “You can repay that favor.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Alina walked up the steps to her deck, a rare smile breaking across her face as Buddy barked from the other side of the sliding door, his thick body wriggling in welcome. A sharp command from his master made him turn and trot over to stand beside the chair where Blake was working on his laptop. She stepped into the house and Stephanie looked up from her seat in the recliner. She took one look at Alina and gasped, swinging her legs down and grabbing her cane.
“What the hell happened?” she demanded, getting to her feet and hobbling as quickly as she could toward Alina.
At her words, Blake and Michael both look at her. Michael scowled and got to his feet.
“Nothing worth mentioning,” Alina said, closing the door behind her.
“You have a bandage stuck to your neck!” Stephanie exclaimed. “That’s not nothing.”
“It’s fine.”
“What happened?” Michael asked, coming around the table and approaching from the other side.
Alina rolled her eyes and pushed them both away.
“It’s nothing!” she exclaimed in exasperation. “Good Lord, you’re worse than a pair of grandparents!”
Blake grinned from his chair.
“They’ve been antsy all day, waiting for you to come back,” he told her as she passed him on her way to the bar.
“Do you blame us? Our numbers are dwindling, and she’s the primary target,” Stephanie snapped.
“I’m fine,” Alina said with a sigh, dropping the keys to the Porsche onto the bar. “Where’s Damon?”
“Locked in the den,” Michael said, going back to his seat. “He’s been in there for about two hours now.”
Alina glanced around. Michael and Blake had taken over the dining room table, and Stephanie had claimed the recliner. She didn’t blame Damon for hiding in the den. She would have done the same thing. She started for the hallway leading to the front of the house.
“Lina?”
Alina turned to glance at Stephanie. She was leaning on her cane, staring at her. Alina hesitated, then gave her a reassuring smile.
“I’m fine,” she said before turning to go down the hall to the closed door at the end.
She opened the door and stepped into the small, closing the door behind her. Damon looked up from the desk where he had two laptops open and his eyes narrowed, going straight to the bandage on her neck.
“I thought you were just going to Angela’s,” he said, turning to face her and sitting back in the chair.
“You know things are never that simple,” she muttered. “I’m starting to think I just have all round bad luck.”
Damon frowned and stood up, coming towards her. “What happened?”
“Harry sent someone to her house to remove the surveillance camera,” she told him tiredly. “I was there when he came in.”
“Is that where you were all day?”
“It was big chunk of it,” she said, lifting her face to accept the kiss he dropped on her lips. His arms went around her and she sighed, leaning against him briefly. “I made a mess and had to clean it up. Angela’s going to need a new floor.”
Damon pulled away and looked down into her face.
“You should have called me.”
“I can clean up my own messes, thanks,” she said with scoff. “Anyway, I want you here in case Harry manages to find this place. It was just an inconvenience.”
Damon raised an eyebrow.
“That looks like more than an inconvenience,” he said, motioning to her neck.
She waved a hand impatiently. “It’s nothing. Just a scratch.”
“Well, that scratch is bleeding through the bandage,” he said bluntly.
Alina’s eyes widened and her hand went to the gauze bandage. She frowned when her fingers came away damp with blood.
“No wonder Stephanie and Michael looked at me like I was dying,” she said sheepishly. “It must have been aggravated when I had the fight with Solitto’s goons.”
It was Damon’s turn to frown, and he did so fiercely, his eyebrows snapping together.
“Solitto!”
She shrugged. “I may have failed to mentioned that to you this morning.”
“Damn right you did!”
They stared at each other in silence for a long moment, then Damon sighed.
“Come on. Let’s go upstairs and get a new bandage on that.”
Alina frowned.
“I can do it myself,” she muttered, turning toward the door.
“I know you can, but I want to see it for myself,” he retorted, close behind her. “Humor me.”
Alina rolled her eyes and went out of the den. The stairs were across from the door and she went right to them without glancing down the hall to the living room. Climbing the steps with Damon behind her, she shook her head. This was turning into a farce. She felt like she was sneaking around her own house, for God’s sake.
She reached the second floor and turned to stride down the hallway to the master bedroom. Angela’s orange tabby cat peeked out from one of the spare rooms and slinked into the hallway as she passed. Anabelle let out a sound that was a cross between a chirp and a meow and Alina paused, glancing down. The cat strolled over to her and rubbed her face against Alina’s calf, looking up at her.
“Oh Bella,” she murmured, bending down to lift the tabby into her arms. “I forgot all about you.”
She was rewarded with a rash of purring as Anabelle curled into her arms contentedly.
“She tried to get into your bedroom this morning,” Damon said, his voice low in her ear. “I closed the door after that. The last thing we need is Raven making a meal out of Angela’s cat.”
Alina glanced at him with a smile.
“Thank you.” She reached out and opened the door to the bedroom, setting the cat down in the hall. “Sorry, Bella. That’s one fight you don’t want to have.”
She and Damon and went through the door and she closed it firmly in the cat’s face. Anabelle voiced her displeasure with a loud yowl before pawing at the door.
“Why doesn’t she go downstairs?” Damon asked, following Alina to the bathroom. “She’s obviously missing Angela.”
“Because Buddy’s down there. She’s not a fan of dogs.”
Damon leaned against the vanity and watched as she bent down to pull the toolbox that housed her first aid kit out from under the sink.
“Did she tell you that?” he teased.
Alina shot him a look of amusement. “Very funny.”
“Hey, you’re the one who communicates with animals,” he said with a grin. “I’m just trying to figure out how.”
“Not by talking,” she said, setting the toolbox next to him on the vanity and opening the lid. Then she turned to look in the mirror. “Holy cow!”
The exclamation came out unexpectedly as she stared at the blood-soaked bandage on her neck. It looked like something out of a horror movie.
“Exactly.”
Alina carefully removed the useless gauze square and examined her neck. Blood was seeping steadily from the cut and she reached for the box of tissues on the vanity. Damon shook his head and reached around her to grab a clean washcloth.
“You’re going to need more than a tissue,” he said, turning on the faucet in the sink and holding the cloth under the stream of water.
He gently turned her chin so he could start cleaning the blood off the wound. Alina made a face but allowed him to carefully wipe away the excess blood from her neck so they could see what they were dealing with. She watched his face as he focused on the gash, his lips pressed together grimly. The set of his jaw showed his concern and a rush of warmth went through her.
“What did this?”
He finally broke the sil
ence as he finished washing away the blood, turning to drop the wash cloth into the trash can.
“A knife,” she said reluctantly. “I saw it just in time, or I wouldn’t be here.”
His eyes met hers briefly and his jaw clenched, then he tilted her head so he could get a better look at the cut. After a minute, he shook his head.
“This needs to be stitched. It’s deep, and it’s not showing any signs that it will stop bleeding. Do you have thread?”
Alina motioned to the toolbox reluctantly and Damon turned to rummage through it until he found the plastic container with packages of sterile nylon thread. He pulled out a needle and looked at her.
“Do you have a lighter I can use to sterilize the needle?”
Alina nodded and turned to go into the bedroom. A moment later, she was back and handing him a cigarette lighter.
“Hop up on the counter,” he said, taking it.
She moved the toolbox down and jumped up to perch on the edge of the vanity, watching as he carefully threaded the nylon through the needle.
“Tell me about Frankie,” he said. He didn’t even lift his eyes from his task and his tone made it clear that he’d brook no argument.
“I went to find out what the story was with the cartel,” she said, shifting on the vanity counter to get more comfortable. “I also decided it’s time to call in that favor he owes me.”
Damon looked up at that.
“What do you have planned?” he demanded. “I thought you were never going to call that favor in.”
“I wasn’t, but the situation has changed. Things are more complicated than I thought they would be, and we’re going to need manpower.”
“You think?” he muttered, switching on the lighter and holding the prepped needle over the flame. “Are you sure about using him?”
“Yes. He’s perfectly able to handle what I asked, and his boys won’t talk. In fact, I think he’s looking forward to it,” she added thoughtfully.
“Are you going to tell me what the plan is, or am I just along for the ride?”