“Aliana, love?”
“Yes.” Dad chokes at Callum’s term of endearment. The severity of the situation is dawning on him.
“Do you want me to kill the governor? Say yes, and I’ll pull the trigger right now.” I don’t answer right away. To be honest, I’ve wished so many times for someone to do just that. To end it all and release me from this burden. “His pathetic life is in your hands.”
“Mi hija, answer him!” Dad yells, and it doesn’t help his case. If anything, it annoys me. “How can you let him do this?”
“You don’t get to speak to her.” And while I decide, my boyfriend looks down at the phone in my hand and nods. “Toss it at the arse on the couch, please.”
Once I do, the man with dark, leering eyes picks it up, grip tight. “This is all a big misunderstanding, Jameson. We’re all friends here.”
“Press play, Flavio. I warned you.”
“Callum, I—”
“Press. Play.”
“I know what you did. I don’t need to—”
“Press play, or it’ll be your brain matter the janitor peels from the ceiling. Your choice.”
In this moment, I see the man everyone fears. The brutal killer and shrewd mob boss.
And yet, I feel no trepidation at his side. Does that make me crazy? Or just as bad?
Flavio, as Callum calls him, hits the button and a clip begins to play. The sound is off, for that I’m thankful, but his expression says it all. He’s horrified. Looks a little sick. “I’ve seen enough.”
“Have you?”
“Yes.”
“Then I suggest you walk out and don’t look back. Final warning.” Flavio stands, dropping the old cell phone beside him, and walks toward the door. We step aside, my body covered by Callum’s, but before Flavio can place a hand on the handle, the man beside me clears his throat. “I’m letting you walk out alive because Aliana’s here—you owe your life to her, arsehole. However, you come within a thousand feet of her again and what I did to him will seem like a gentle pat on the back. Understood?”
“I do.”
“Then go and give him a proper burial. He’s been delivered to your home.” Callum’s message is there. He knows where Gaspar lives. The door closes after him, and we turn to look at my father and Rigo who sit as still as statues in opposites sides of the room.
Both guns are on my father, though.
“Your answer, Venus.”
“As much as it would make my life easier, no. The answer is no,” I say and Dad exhales roughly, shoulder slumping in relief. “But not out of love. That, I need to make sure you understand.” My eyes are on the man I no longer see as a father. Not after how easily he threatens, hits, or sells me to save his own skin. Parents should protect and love, two things the man sitting behind a desk is incapable of. “I do this for the two boys you couldn’t care less about. They deserve better than you, an absent father and a vain mother, but I can’t in good conscience be the reason they bury a parent at such a young age.”
“Aliana, you can’t mean that. I’ve always been there.” His indignation is almost amusing. His acting, though, leaves a lot to be desired. “You kids are my life.”
“Bullshit, and we both know that.” Callum walks over to the chairs across from my father and motions for me to sit. His guns are still out but lowered. “You don’t give a bloody fuck about her well-being or happiness, and I can only imagine what your sons put up with. Which is why you’re going to be doing a series of tasks to prove how unselfish you can be…isn’t that right, Governor Rubens?”
“Yes.” He swallows hard before picking up the pen beside a notepad.
“First, you will be sending both to study abroad. You have two choices: London or Sweden.” My eyes widen, a smile curling at my lips. This beautiful man. Christ, I love you. Dad writes it down, his teeth gritting, but I’ll give him brownie points for nodding. “Second, you will end whatever business dealings you have pending with the Gaspar family. I don’t want them near you or the entire Ruben/Martin idiocy. And trust, I will find out if you do.”
“Of course.”
“And lastly…” Callum moves quickly. I don’t see it coming until he slams the butt of the gun on my father’s hand. He does this four times, and only stops because the unmistakable crunch of bone is heard. For his part, the governor bites down hard on his lip and keeps most sounds to a minimum—a low cry here or there while looking at me for help. No part of me wants to. This is his bed. “Lastly, you ever look at her wrong. Put your hands on her. Or use Aliana to do your dirty work again, and I will gut you like the spineless cunt you are. Nothing, and I mean not a bloody fucking thing, will stop me from ripping you open from neck to dick before throwing you in Lake Michigan and watching the fish pick you apart. Nod if you understand.”
He does, and my boyfriend puts his guns away before grabbing my hand and leading me out of the room. I don’t say anything. I don’t look back either.
This is closure for me. I’m ready to start a new life.
We’re almost to the door, though, when Callum stops to look at a scared Rigo. “Stay in your lane, Mr. Martin. I have eyes and ears everywhere, and I am everything you heard me to be.”
There’s a certain beauty in life when you’re happy.
Things seem brighter. People appear nicer. And friendships morph and adjust, creating something special.
Like mine and Aurora’s. It’s been a few months since her kidnapping, eloping, and then taking over Boston with Casper by her side. They’re domesticated now, living and working between Chicago and Boston, while plans evolve and their family grows.
For the first time, I can say that she’s living and not just maintaining her mother’s dream.
I’ve been to the grounds where Conte House #2 is being built in Boston, and the area is huge and will easily double the size of Chicago. This one will also have a few things that we don’t have back home; the expansion of an on-site school for the elementary-aged-kids is one of them.
That, in and of itself, will help the anxiety mothers go through when their children are off to class. Older kids understand the situation and will defy the abuser’s attempt to pull them out of school, while the younger one recognizes a parent or someone close to their mother and can be swayed with something as simple as candy.
We’ve seen it. It’s sickening the lengths an abuser will go to in order to hurt someone.
Then, there’s the original women’s home. My second home.
I’ve spent so many years of my life working there, helping in the day-to-day planning, but my heart just isn’t there anymore. London’s is, though. She’s such an amazing woman and has plans to expand the location, too, but I don’t see myself in those plans. Not because they don’t want me to be, but because the moment I felt secure in her reins, I asked for time off.
No return date. No plans to do so at the moment either.
I came to London, and I found my home.
This is where I live and breathe, especially, with my brothers nearby at a school a short car ride from Callum’s penthouse in the city, where we stay most days.
For their part, my parents have left us alone. No news is the best news in my opinion.
“Miss, your order is ready,” an older lady, who has a crush on Callum, taps the counter and I smile. Beside me, Lindsey snickers; she finds the stink eye I’m getting hilarious. I need a new guard. “Do hurry with those, ma’am. Mr. Jameson is very particular about his afternoon cuppa.”
“Of course. Right away.” Grabbing my items, I keep a straight face until we step outside and then I lose it. Laugh so hard that it starts a domino effect we can’t stop. I laugh, she laughs, and it goes round and round until a throat clears behind me.
When I turn around, a sickening feeling turns my stomach.
“Hello, prima.”
“Jorge, what are you doing here?” Beside me Lindsey moves slightly, the glint of her gun visible, but I shake my head when a group of kids who appear to b
e on a field trip walk by with some nuns. “Please leave.”
“I can’t do that.” He shows his own piece, a heavy caliber revolver. “You’re coming with me. You both are.”
“No. We’re not,” Lindsey hisses, but then stumbles a bit. My head turns and I notice Alicia for the first time. In her hand is a syringe, the end dripping with some kind of liquid. But when my guard loses strength in her legs, she’s caught by two other people. These men I’ve never seen before, but worst of all, the way they crowd around us makes it hard for anyone to notice what’s happening.
They hold her up while I turn horrified eyes at Jorge. “What do you want? What did you inject her with?”
He shrugs uncaringly. “Your mother simply wants to have a word, and she’ll live. A mild sedative never hurt anyone. Besides, your brothers survived it. You all will.”
“My brothers? What the…you bastard!”
The pinch was sudden; I didn’t pay attention to Alicia’s movements. She smiles at me as the sedative begins to work, my legs feeling weak first and then my tongue is heavy while black dots fill my vision. “He is a bastard, Aliana. You’ve always been too stupid to realize what was happening right under your nose.”
“What’s that…?”
34
Ninety days. Three months.
That’s how long my Venus has been missing, and no one can find a single trace of Aliana. It’s as if the ground has swallowed her, hiding all remnants of her existence, and those around me are paying for the volatile ramifications of my failure. Because this is on me.
She was in my city. My motherfucking country.
Then, there’s the disappearance of her guard, brothers, and the rest of that sack-of-shit family. I should’ve killed them all, even if it meant she’d be angry at me. That’s where I dodged up. I take full responsibility for not chopping the head off the snake before burning the nest with the other members inside.
“Callum, I think I found something. Or better yet—someone,” Ezra says from the other side of my office inside the pub. He’s been here since she was taken, working tirelessly to find her, but all leads so far have been dead ends. “This is Jorge Rubens, is it not?”
My eyes shift to the man on the screen and sure enough, that’s one of the arseholes. I’m just missing Rubens, Martin, and Gaspar. “Where is he?”
Before Ezra can answer, Giannis comes to stand beside me. I look over and find his eyes narrowed and lips in a thin line. “I know exactly where he is.”
“You do?”
“Yup.” His head tilts, studying the screen. “That’s their grandmother’s home in Fornells. That son of a bitch has been in Spain this whole time.” He’s angry. Has been furious since she disappeared. And I understand him. I feel the same gnawing guilt.
This sense of responsibility because she was there to pick up a drink for me before we could meet up with him. The three wanted to visit some shops in the area and I volunteered to accompany them, be the added protection because a repeat of what happened to my aunt isn’t something I can live with.
And yet, to me this is worse.
I don’t know how she is.
If she’s hurt.
“How soon can we be there?” Kray pushes off the wall. He’s kept a solid grip on his emotions for now, but I do pity the bloke that receives the brunt of it once he unleashes.
“In two hours.” Ezra moves the mouse, clicking on another webpage. This one is a database; he’s running Aliana’s picture through it. “I’ll have everything ready to go and will call you with any news.”
“Thanks, mate.” I give his shoulder a squeeze and look at the others. Archie, Kray, Dwayne, and Giannis await my orders. “You have five minutes to grab whatever you need; the vault is open.”
Fornells is beautiful, a quaint village in a bay north of the Balearic Island of Menorca, Spain. The population is small. Everyone knows everyone. And this couldn’t be more apparent when we disembark the boat chartered to bring us over.
The locals stare.
They murmur.
Yet, it’s a small boy no older than eleven that approaches when we make it to the village center. He’s sweaty and is missing a few teeth, but I appreciate his bravado. “Are you here to take the idiot home?”
The others laugh at his description of who I’m certain is Jorge Rubens.
“That depends on the idiota?” I ask, and his eyes narrow. Behind him, a worried man—by resemblance, I deduce he’s the father—walks over.
“Forgive my son. Lino can be too outspoken at times.”
“Nothing to forgive. The bloke he’s referring to is a pest.” At my words, his shoulders relax a bit. “Now, can you please point us in his direction. We need to clean him up and get him home. His mother is worried sick.”
“Of course.” He’s not buying it, and he’s a smart man for doing so. “I’ll take you to my family’s small bar.”
“Gracias.”
“De nada. Just take him and don’t let him come back,” the boy interjects, and I laugh for the first time in months.
“You’re something else, kid.”
“That’s what my mama says, too.” Lino begins to walk toward a small building not far from where we stand, but before he steps inside, he motions for us to follow.
No one else in town says anything. They watch us. Untrusting.
“Keep your eyes open, and any member of the family is to be taken in.”
“Yes, sir,” all four answer, voice low. If Lino’s father heard my instructions, he pretends otherwise, and we walk inside the establishment to find quite a scene.
Jorge Rubens is here and drunk off his arse.
He’s stumbling, trying to find rhythm in a flamenco beat playing in the background and doing a piss poor job. There are bottles occupying three of the eight tables inside, all empty and some broken from being slammed down too hard. Then, there’s what looks to be vomit on the floor in various spots.
It’s a disgusting sight.
“Hello, Jorge.” At the sound of my voice, he freezes and his face whips around toward me. It’s almost funny how quickly he sobers up a bit, face paling when he takes in the others behind me. “You’ve created quite the problem for yourself? Yes?”
“Jameson, what are—”
“Silence.” The two other patrons leave the bar while I turn my head to Lino and his father. “Please take your family and go. I will pay you for the damages incurred, but this won’t be gentle.”
The father swallows hard, his eyes flicking between me and the nuisance. “Understood.”
Lino, though, has other plans and tries to resist when his dad ushers him out. “But, Papa!”
“Listen to your dad, kid. Help him take care of your mum.” At the mention of his mum, his chest puffs out and he nods. Takes off in the direction of the back, while I move my attention back to the scum pissing on himself. “Get him a change of clothes and on the boat. We have somewhere to be before sundown.”
“Hijo de puta!” Jorge screams. The boiling hot water dripping from his naked torso has taken most of his skin off, the top layer anyway. He’s in pain. Bleeding in some parts. “Please. No mas…I can’t take…fuck! I’ll talk.”
“Mate, you really suck at this whole torture thing.” Those standing against the wall inside the pub back in London all chuckle. We’ve been at this for ten minutes now; we allowed him a nice nap since returning, but the man makes this too easy for his position on floor. “You’re supposed to let me ask the question first.”
“I know where Aliana and her brothers are.”
“I’m sure you do.”
“Isn’t that what you want?”
“It is.” I hold a hand out, and Archie places my whip at the center of my palm. Its weight feels good. This weapon is an extension of me, and I let the leather unfurl and crack it once against the cold concrete. I press the button to release the blades, and the audible click sends a shiver through Jorge. “But I need to know the full story before I pass judgment.�
�
“She’s in Nicaragua. So is the woman, Lindsey, and the boys.” Jorge licks his cracked lips. “They’re not hurt, but that’s because Aliana will be stealing something very valuable in three days.” Three days. Day after Valentine’s Day. Instead of celebrating with me, they’ll be putting her life at risk for their personal gain. I won’t allow that. “That’s what kept them safe, for now. They need her compliant, and my mother—”
“Your mother is dead,” Giannis interrupts, his lips curled up in disgust. Normally, I’d shoot someone for doing what he just did, but he has permission to do so if the wanker is lying. “You forget I went to the funeral.”
“That woman wasn’t my mother.”
“Then who the fuck is…” Giannis trails off and his eyes widen. The look on his face is almost comical. Almost, because I’m clueing into what he’s hinting at and it’s sickening. “You mean to tell me Ada Rubens is your mother?”
“She is. She also killed Aliana’s father, and he’s not her first victim.”
“Governor Rubens?” He nods at my question. “What else has she done? Why is she holding Aliana and her siblings?” You have to be one mentally fucked individual to hurt your own kid. Then a thought occurs. “Is she even their mother?”
Because at this point, nothing would surprise me.
“She is.”
“But?”
“But she loves money and her freedom more. That’s why she killed my father all those years ago, the governor’s ambitions were similar to hers. However,” he coughs, then rubs at the skin of his chest which is a mistake. His hiss is loud. “Fucking shit.”
“However, what?”
Jorge’s face is pinched tight with pain. “She does have a weakness.”
“Which is?”
“Rigo Martin.”
Rigo’s son is in the room, and the look on his face says it all. There’s hurt and betrayal, but more than that, I see hatred and a thirst for vengeance that rivals my own.
“I want every last detail of your mum’s plan, Jorge.” Flicking my wrist forward, I strike across his blistered chest twice and then watch the skin part where the blade sliced through. He screams, snot and tears mixing together at the bow of his upper lip before sliding lower. Disgusting. “I want her location, and that of your wife, because I know she’s involved, too.”
Risqué: Mafia Romance (Beautiful Sinner Series Book 5) Page 27