by B. B. Hamel
The living room was trashed. My heart was in my throat as I kicked through it. The couch cushions were all slashed, the TV smashed, the chairs and table flipped, my books and paintings and all the bullshit decorations I’d accumulated over the years were thrown on the floor, stomped, wrecked, destroyed. The kitchen was covered in porcelain shards and glass pieces, and I didn’t even bother going inside there.
I moved upstairs, trying to be quiet, but each room was the same: ripped bedding, torn clothes. I found Cora’s dresses in the hallway in tatters covered in muddy boot prints.
I stood at the foot of her bed seething. I didn’t know who would do this, who would be dumb enough to come in here and fuck with my place—when it hit me hard, almost sent me reeling.
Of course I knew who.
I took out my phone and dialed a number. The only thing I kept thinking after that, over and over, was that she better be okay, she better be okay, or else someone was going to die.
Lots of people were going to die.
Hedeon answered on the fourth ring, just before it went to voicemail.
“What?” he grunted.
“It’s me. Where is she?”
Short silence. “Who?”
“Cora, Hedeon. Where the fuck is Cora?”
“I have no clue.” He sounded sincere, but I couldn’t be sure.
“My place is trashed and she’s gone. Now you tell me who in this city would be stupid enough to do that.”
He let out a breath. “You think it was me.”
“Tell me it wasn’t.”
“It wasn’t. Come to my place, right now. We’ll work it out.”
“Yeah? So you can cut my throat?”
“Reid, if I wanted to kill you, I’d kill you. I know where you live, I know all your guys.”
I took a deep breath and shut my eyes. I knew he was right. If Hedeon wanted me dead, he wouldn’t bother coming into my place and ripping it to pieces, he’d roll up with a car full of thugs and fill me with bullets. Or he’d get one of my own men to do it—and they probably would for a good price or for a better job in one of his other crews.
“Fine,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’m coming over. When I get there, you’d better have something good to say.”
I hung up, shaking with rage, and went back outside. I stood on the stoop breathing hard, and I wondered if whoever broke in here and took Cora was still watching. I hoped they were, hoped they saw how angry I was—and I hoped they had the good sense to be very, very afraid.
Hedeon stood in his kitchen washing his hands as I paced across the doorway. He turned and wiped his hands dry on a towel and gave me an exasperated stare.
“I told you—” he started, but I turned and cut him off.
“I’m going over there.”
He held up his hands. “Wait a second.”
“No, no fucking waiting.” I stepped toward him and felt like all this time I’d been moving toward this moment when I had to decide what mattered to me most—my girl, or the crew.
I didn’t know what I’d choose, or if it even mattered, but now that Cora was gone, I knew what I really wanted, and how far I’d go to get it.
“You have to understand, this is a delicate situation.”
I wanted to shout in his face until he understood, but instead I kept calm, or as calm as I could.
“And you have to understand that whatever I have with Cora is more than just some fake, arranged marriage.”
That made Hedeon pause. “You caught feelings for this girl.”
“Fuck you,” I growled. “This is more than just catching feelings. This isn’t some fucking schoolboy crush bullshit.”
“She was never your wife.” He didn’t smile, didn’t make a move, but I could tell he was tense. “You know that, right? She always belonged to the Leone family.”
“She doesn’t belong to anyone, damn you. And maybe it started out fake, but something happened between us, and now it means way more to me than any of this bullshit.”
He placed the towel down on the counter and took a deep breath. “I can’t have you do anything just yet.”
“What are you going to do about it then?” My hands balled into fists. “Are you going to let her rot or what?”
“I’ll talk to them.”
I barked a laugh. Like that fucking mattered. The Leone family would do whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted, and they didn’t give a damn what Hedeon thought.
He didn’t see it. He was blinded by his own meteoric rise to power, or maybe by his obsessive desire to hold on to peace in the city, but the Leone family didn’t give a damn about him at all. They weren’t impressed and they certainly weren’t afraid.
But they should be. Hedeon was more dangerous than they realized, not because of Hedeon himself, but because of the men that Hedeon controlled.
Men like me. Men that did violent, reckless things when they felt like they had no other option.
“They’re not going to listen.”
“I know you think that, but I have a good relationship with Vincent. He’s not an unreasonable man. He’ll listen to me.”
I stared at him like he’d gone insane. I couldn’t help but laugh again, shaking my head. “Listen to yourself.”
“Careful, Reid.”
“No, I’m serious. Listen to yourself.” I stepped toward him, grinning at the absurdity of the situation. “You think you have a good relationship with Vincent Leone. Since when did you give a damn about any of that? We came to power through the streets, through blood and sweat and death, we don’t give a shit what the Leones think or want or feel. And here you are, talking about having a good relationship with them?”
It felt like a betrayal, like he was turning away from everything the crew stood for all because he wanted some stability. His face turned red and I knew he was pissed but trying to hold it back.
“We’re in the big league now,” he said, keeping his voice soft and steady. “We can’t play the old game anymore. Now we’re dealing with senators, and congressmen, and judges, and a hundred other fucks with checkbooks and connections, and any one of them can bring this all tumbling down. We have power for the first time, real power that can help our guys, and I’m not about to give that all up because you caught feelings.”
I clenched my jaw and seethed at him for two sharp breaths. “Fuck you, Hedeon.”
“Go ahead and throw a tantrum. You can blame me all you want, but at the end of the day, this is your fault.”
I took a step and I thought I was going to hit him. I saw myself do it, saw my fist smash into his face—but the years of working together, all the thing he’d done for me, given me, it held me back. I couldn’t hit Hedeon even if I wanted to, and even if he deserved it.
“I did what I had to do,” I said, my voice low and harsh. “I took care of a problem. It would’ve been easy if I didn’t have you and half the city breathing down my neck.”
“But you did, and you fucked it up.”
“I did better than anyone in my situation could have.”
“And yet it doesn’t matter.” He shook his head slowly. “Come on, Reid. You know how this goes. You broke the rules and now you’re paying the price.”
I turned my back on him. I felt rage roll through me—but rage tinged with certainty.
“If you’re not going to do something, then I am.”
“Reid—”
“I mean it, Hedeon.” I walked to the kitchen door. “I’m going to do something about this. Tell me right now you’re going to take care of it today.”
“I can’t do that.” His eyes were sharp and narrowed, and I could tell he didn’t believe that I’d walk out on him.
But he didn’t understand what had happened with Cora. He didn’t understand because he’d never felt it—Hedeon had never been close to anyone in his life. He’d had women, plenty of women, but I’d never seen him keep one around for more than a few days, a week at most, before moving on to something else. He
didn’t do attachments, didn’t do emotions, and there was no way he’d understand that sort of thing in someone else.
I couldn’t expect sympathy from him, and so I’d take care of this myself.
“Goodbye, Hedeon,” I said, and for a second I wondered if it would be for the last time.
He said nothing as I strode out that door and to my car. I sat behind the wheel breathing hard, trying to stay calm. I felt like I’d walked out on the crew and that there would be no going back.
That was probably true. If I went through with this—Hedeon would never let me return.
I put the car in gear and pulled out, face set, sure that I was making the right choice, even if it meant leaving my old life behind.
20
Cora
Halfway to the mansion, Dante shoved a black bag over my head.
I struggled at first until Dante pinned me down. “Keep fighting and it’ll be worse,” he growled, and I gave up. I knew they had me and there was nothing I could do.
They hustled me inside. I thought I recognized the sound of the mansion’s entry, the way the sound bounced off the tile. They dragged me up some steps, along more halls, and finally deposited me into a room. I heard them lock the door as they left, and after a few minutes, I pulled the bag off my head and took in my surroundings.
It was dark but my eyes were already half adjusted. There was a single bed against the wall, a desk across from it, a dresser, and a small closet. Another door led into a sparse, cramped bathroom, barely more than a sink, a toilet, and a tight standing shower. One window overlooked the street outside, but black bars kept me from trying to climb out. I considered yelling for help—but that would only draw Vincent’s ire and make this situation worse.
I sat at the edge of the lumpy bed and bounced up and down. It was the least comfortable room in the whole mansion as far as I knew, and I wondered how many more there were. I tried the door, but it was locked from the outside, and I got the feeling that this place was specifically designed to keep someone locked away.
I stared at my feet and thought about Reid. I tried to picture him coming home and finding it a wreck, the place ripped to pieces, his life thrown onto the floor and broken to bits—and wondered if he’d be more upset that his house got destroyed, or that I got taken away.
I hoped the latter. I wanted him to miss me, although I knew that was selfish as hell. He couldn’t do anything for me now, not without sparking a huge city-wide gang war, and that was something we’d both been working hard to avoid. I wished I could talk to him, tell him that it was okay, that it wasn’t his fault—that he didn’t need to do something stupid for me.
But I wanted something stupid. I wanted his arms around me, his body against mine, all the hours we spent in bed together learning to enjoy what our marriage had to offer, I wanted it all back. I needed him to know that something happened, that whatever we’d been growing, whatever we’d been thrown into, it was real, it was all becoming real, and it could be something good if we let it.
None of that would happen now. I was gone and there was nothing he could do about it, not while I was locked up in the most heavily defended place in the whole damn world.
I was back in that hell all over again. For a little while, it felt like I’d gotten away from the Leone family and was starting to make a new life for myself with Reid, but now I was sucked in again, back in the one place I didn’t want to be and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
I didn’t know how long I paced around trying to release some angry, frustrated energy, but as the light dimmed outside and the shadows grew longer, I heard sounds from the mansion. I heard people moving around, voices, conversations. I couldn’t tell who was talking or what was said, but people were coming and going, and that was strangely comforting.
Then as the sun set, I heard the locks in my door open. I stood up, stomach rumbling. I half expected food and after—but instead, Vincent stepped into the room and shut the door behind him.
He regarded me for a long moment with tired eyes. His shirt was rumpled, his suit jacket wrinkled, and I wondered if he’d had a difficult day then decided I didn’t give a damn.
My day was a lot worse.
“You caused me a ton of trouble, you know that?” His voice was rough, like he’d been shouting most of the afternoon.
I laughed and shook my head. It was fucked up, hearing that come out of his mouth, as if I should feel bad for him somehow. “Yeah, well, you’re causing me a lot worse, so I guess it’s even.”
His face twisted into rage. “Even? You don’t get it, do you?”
I stepped toward him, setting my jaw. “Why don’t you tell me then?”
“Everyone’s watching me.” He stalked across the room, hands clasped behind his back like a caged tiger. “Do you know what that’s like? Every rich person, everyone with an ounce of power, they’re all watching, waiting, and wondering how I’ll fuck this up. Every single one of them.”
“I almost feel bad for you,” I snapped, “except here I am, stuck in a prison.”
He turned and stared. “I’d much rather be in your position.”
“Then let’s trade places.”
He smirked and shook his head. I wished I could slap him in the face, but I knew that would only cause more problem than it was worth. Hurting him wouldn’t buy my freedom, and really it would only make him crack down on me harder.
I wondered if there weren’t some way out of this—and then it occurred to me that he didn’t give a damn about me at all. This whole thing was about his stress, his workload, his problems, and I was just a consequence of all those things. He didn’t care what happened to me so long as all his problems went away, and I was only here because he wanted to take it out on someone. I was nothing to him and I never had been.
“You’re lucky, you realize that? All this hard work turned out for nothing. Your husband made my life very, very difficult, and you get to walk away.”
I opened my mouth to tell him to go to hell—then stopped myself.
“Walk away?” I asked, not sure what he meant, and wondering if this was some kind of trick.
“As much as I want to punish you for all this bullshit, you’re still family, and it would look pretty damn bad. So I’m going to pay you the million you’re owed and send you on your way.”
“Pay me… what?” I felt like my world tipped on its side. I had to lean against the dresser to keep from tilting and falling over.
He laughed and shook his head. “I know, it’s stupid, isn’t it? But yes, I’m going to pay you, but there’s a catch.”
“What?” I managed.
“You’re going to stay in the city and work for the family. I’m thinking of naming you our liaison to the state government.”
I cleared my throat, trying to work out the sticky bile taste I felt surging up from my gut.
“You want me to work for the family?”
“That’s right. You’ll have an official capacity, but it’ll be menial work. You’ll smile and flirt with the old men in the state senate, you’ll hand out bribes to the ones that don’t fall for your charms, which I suspect will be most of them, and you’ll do whatever I ask of you. And in exchange, I’ll keep you on the payroll on top of your million.”
I leaned back and sat down on the edge of the bed. I stared at my hands, wondering how the hell I found myself in this position, being offered a job in the family I despise, and knowing full well that it’s not truly an offer—but a threat.
“No,” I said, my voice soft.
“Excuse me?”
“No.” I lifted my head and stared at him. “No, Vincent. I don’t want your job or your money.”
He stared at me, confusion in his eyes, then laughed. He shook his head and ran his hand through his hair.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
“I’m not joking.” I stood up. “I don’t want your money or your job. I want you to leave me the fuck alone. That’s all I want.”
His laughter disappeared and he took a step toward me, jaw clenched. “That’s not going to happen,” he said through his teeth.
“You think I want anything to do with this fucked-up family anymore?” I stared at him, heart racing, barely controlling myself. “You people have done nothing but screw me over, use me for whatever you want, and kill my best friend.”
He flinched back, blinking. “Kill your friend?”
“You don’t even remember him, do you?”
“Are you talking about that fucking fat kid you used to hang out with?” He made a face. “I thought you were happy when that loser got whacked. What was his name anyway?”
I took a few steps toward him as he stared at me with a bemused expression. I closed my eyes and took a breath, and I could see Alex there on the sidewalk, bleeding out, gasping for breath, fear in his eyes—begging me to save his life, but knowing he was dying, knowing he was about to be finished. And now, hearing my cousin talk about him like that filled me with so much fury that I didn’t know how to control it.
“His name was Alex,” I said, walking up to him, “and he was better than you’ll ever be.”
He didn’t expect me to hit him. He didn’t so much as move as my palm smacked across his face with a satisfying crack. His chin jerked to the side and he let out a single surprised grunt as I kneed him as hard as I could in the crotch. He groaned and staggered backwards, gripping his balls as I turned to the door and ran for it.
I grabbed the handle and yanked it open. The hallway was empty as I threw myself into it. My heart hammered and I knew I just signed my death warrant—there was no way I’d escape, not now. Vincent wouldn’t let me get away with hurting him like that. I heard him come after me with a roar as I sprinted as fast as I could, moving down the silent hotel-like hallway, the heavy carpet padding my footfalls.
I shouldn’t have done that. I should’ve been smarter and waited for a better opportunity, but hearing him talk about Alex like that, and not even remembering his name—I couldn’t hold back.
And if I was being honest with myself, I had to admit that it felt good to hit Vincent like that. I’d been wanting to hurt him for so long for what happened to Alex. He deserved that and so much worse, and I wanted him to pay for it, pay for all of it, even if Alex’s death wasn’t his fault. I wanted him to remember his name at the very least.