Commanding Thirst: Mafia Romance (Rough Redemption Book 2)

by Olivia Fox

  Tony loped along the side of the room towards the sliding glass door, coming to a stop and slowly stepping out onto its ledge. He looked over the edge and fired his pistol, coming back inside.

  “Just a warning shot. He was out of reach. You’re going to need to step up security though. Otherwise, you’re a sitting duck here,” he said.

  “That’s twice you two have shielded me from harm.” The Sinaloa Boss was visibly grateful for Tony’s intervention. He pointed at me. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten how you threw the vase and saved us all from a deadly shootout.”

  The policia arrived. They canvassed the entire property, searching for a man with a gun. They didn’t find anyone and apologized to Maximilio before they left.

  Suddenly, exhaustion hit.

  We hadn’t even convinced my sister to come home.

  Perhaps Maximilio would let her since he owed his life to us.

  Maximilio handed me a glass of golden amber liquid which spilled down my throat in a fiery trickle and warmed my insides when I swallowed it.

  Fuck it.

  Time to enjoy a damned scotch, gangster’s den or not.

  I was pretty gangster myself these days, and the Sinaloa boss didn’t scare me.

  Which is more than I could say for his preggo girlfriend.

  She bid me to go with her to the bathroom. I figured it was for one-on-one talk about babies and morning sickness. Instead, she locked the door behind us and whispered, “Please, get me out of here or he’ll kill me!”

  “Who? Maximilio? Actually, I was thinking he was pretty sweet on you.” The tickling at the back of my neck was a tell-tale sign something bad was about to happen.

  In this world, there were dangers much deadlier than bullets. Such as the woman standing in front of me, related by blood, who’d manipulated situations like this for what felt like a million times. Idealizing a man one moment, then turning on him, calling him cruel, complaining about him, even accusing him of abuse.

  It gave me whiplash.

  Who knew what my sister extracted from Maximilio. There was a price to pay for her company, and we were going to find out the cost.

  And I’d hauled Tony back into it.

  I couldn’t live with myself after dragging my fucked-up family mess into his life.

  Again.

  He’d done enough for me already.

  29

  Antonio

  At first, Daphne’s words struck me as odd when she asked, “What are you doing?” Then I saw what she was referring to.

  Her sister was performing what I could only describe as speed-drinking. She poured herself a tequila, tossed it back, and followed it with another, repeating the sequence, and it threw me off.

  What woman would drink hard alcohol like someone lost in the desert when they were with child?

  Even if she weren’t pregnant, the way she sipped as if trying to get it all inside of her as fast as she could, was disturbing.

  She achieved her purpose—everyone’s attention in the room was on her.

  “Maggie!” Daphne reached for the glass, but her sister spun away and chugged the rest of it down. “You shouldn’t drink. You’ll hurt the baby!”

  A loud knock made us all turn from the drama playing before our eyes.

  “Wait a moment,” Maximilio said. “It could be the police.” He leaned forward to look through the peephole and stepped back, opening the door. “Come inside. You have news?”

  I recognized the man as one of Maximilio’s, “Nothing more than to tell you the burglar, or assassin, whatever he was, has evaded the policia. For now, it looks like he’s gone.”

  “People love this baby more than they love me!” Maggie blurted out of the blue. “Now, they’re telling me what a worthless human being I am because I’m drinking alcohol!” She slammed her empty glass on the table.

  “More like inhaling it,” Daphne said under her breath.

  “It’s a sin to mess with the miracle of life inside you, my love,” Maximilio urged. “Take care of yourself and the baby.”

  “Yes, it is a miracle. It might even be immaculate conception since your boyfriend cannot father children,” Maximilio’s soldier responded.

  Everyone in the room pinned their eyes on him.

  “What are you talking about?” Maggie huffed, her hands on her hips.

  “The housekeeper said it right in front of you. You should have put more effort into your Spanish lessons. Instead, you spent all of your time waiting to meet secretly with Maximilio’s uncle. The minute you suspected he was interested in you and found out he had more money to his name, you were after him like a shot!”

  “That’s not true. I love Maximilio! I would never betray him.”

  “Then whose child is it, mi amor? I’ve known I was sterile since recovering from the mumps when I was a young man. All along, I knew the baby wasn’t ours.”

  “It’s yours, I swear.”

  “Don’t make it worse by lying,” Maximilio said.

  “I’m not! I’m leaving and never coming back!” shouted Maggie, huffing out the front door and slamming it.

  “She’ll be back.” Daphne declared. “You can take that to the bank.”

  But he wasn’t prepared to wait and instead, went chasing after her.

  “Wow,” said my little wren. “She’s my sister and everything, but I don’t know how he’ll forgive her for this.”

  “Es la manera,” the soldier said. “It’s how we are, willing to suffer for love like the old Mariachi song says, ‘For love, I cried drops of blood from my heart.’ Maximilio won’t give up on her over this. He’s happy to accept the baby as his own, so long as she refuses to see this other man again.” Maximilio’s soldier said matter of fact.

  “Now there’s the rub,” said Daphne, madder than I’d ever seen her towards her sister. “If she can keep her panties on for longer than a New York minute around any guy with money, it’ll be proof miracles really happen.”

  There was no time to agree or disagree with what she said.

  I watched the cold light of fear fill Daphne’s eyes as gunshots rang out in the night.

  30

  Daphne

  Maggie was dead.

  The last thing I said about her was cruel. I’d give anything to take it back, even though down inside I knew, every word was true. Maximilio was the most heartbroken of all; he survived the shooting.

  It was grim business accompanying her coffin home from Mexico, and less than she deserved. I stood in the snake-like lines filled with passengers carting luggage. Someone had carved out my insides and left me hollow as a Halloween pumpkin.

  Only a body filled with empty space wouldn’t seem as heavy as mine.

  Tony carried my overnight bag and kept touching me like he thought I might disappear.

  Our family code, same as the Dragos, was to keep our own secrets. What happened in the house was a mystery to people on the outside. With our mom sprawled on the carpet, Maggie and I became good at hiding it.

  The night she died, Maximilio went after her, drawing attention from the Jalisco Cartel gunman who appeared earlier on the balcony. Maggie got killed in the crossfire when the assassin was shot dead. The baby too young to save.

  The rules of the game came back to me after her death: keep your head down.

  Don’t tempt fate by pretending it’s possible for you to find approval.

  I hoped Maximilio would be my brother-in-law. He loved Maggie and seemed to accept her faults, despite the complications of their relationship.

  My sister’s appetite for approval was never slated. Any affection or attention she received wasn’t enough. She moved on from one man to the next, always seeking someone to erase the void she carried.

  Searching for proof that someone could find her loveable and fill the cavernous void she carried inside.

  With Maggie gone, I realized getting distance from Drago was the healthiest thing to do. When he was around, my brain malfunctioned, and all of my executiv
e functioning headed south towards my reproductive organs.

  He dropped me off at my apartment after visiting the mortuary; I tried to explain.

  He couldn’t hang out and dwell in the smoking ruins of my soul. “Tony. I’m going to need some time.”

  He frowned at me. “For what?”

  It made the words catch in my throat. The happiness we found in Mexico was crushed beneath the burden of grief in the air.

  “To digest what’s happened.”

  He brushed the back of his finger against my cheek. “I’m sorry about your sister, baby. I know how much you loved her, even when she never made it easy for you.”

  Hot tears of bitter loss slid down my cheeks, and the muscles in my throat constricted.

  “I need to be alone to grieve,” I said. “Will you let me?”

  Saying we were over was hopeless. I didn’t have it in me to say those exact words, though they were on the tip of my tongue.

  I couldn’t have him.

  Didn’t deserve him.

  Would always be broken.

  He walked me to my apartment and searched the place, turning to me at the door on his way out. “From the second I met you, you’ve been all I see. You’re the love of my life.” He shoved his hand through his thick, dark locks and I wanted to pull him to my chest, hold him there like a baby to comfort us both. “I understand you’re grieving, Daphne, but you have to let me take care of you.”

  I nodded and shrugged, “It’s best if we don’t see each other for a while.”

  Tony’s mouth was tender, his embrace sure when he hugged me goodbye.

  Once inside, overwhelmed by sadness, I collapsed on the bed and pulled the covers over my head, sinking into a sleep as deep as a coma.

  The next day, he dispatched one of his men to stand guard at my apartment and walk me to and from work. With every step there and back during the following month, I chanted the words to convince myself.

  Like a mantra.

  A meditation.

  A prayer.

  “You’re doing the right thing for your future.”

  Keeping myself safe, unlike my sister.

  But my true self knew I was lying.

  Breaking my own heart.

  Like throwing it over a freeway overpass so trucks and semis could run over it, smearing it into the concrete until it became as flat and void of life as roadkill.

  Which is how I wound up, one month later, at Chapman’s Bookery with a dull, defeated pain in my chest, pretending to squat low to read titles on a shelf.

  I sunk down on my haunches, put my face in my hands, and wept for every single day my sister wasn’t alive, and all the times I’d gone without seeing my Drago. Maggie’s death and Tony’s absence had given me a heartache no one could heal.

  31

  Antonio

  Part of me wanted to thank Daphne for dragging me down to Mexico.

  Business between the Sinaloas, Jaliscos, and Dragos was peaceful and prosperous ever since.

  The Jalisco maintained their meth trade, the Sinaloas heroin, and the Drago’s dominated with their construction and casino operations—all within the same territory.

  So long as nobody got greedy, nobody got hurt.

  Today my thoughts were on doing some damage, but not the violent kind.

  It was like the olden days, maintaining a respectful distance, sending her food, keeping her safe and sound.

  And yes, I made sure she wasn’t seeing any other men.

  I’d make her pay for making me wait.

  I was all in.

  There was no such thing as a fair fight when it came to loving her.

  The playful music of kid’s voices rose from the children’s book section while I perused the bookstore to find her. There was a single customer sitting at a table, enjoying coffee and a scone.

  The sound of cardboard boxes being cut open as an employee stocked the shelves came from the back. I rounded the corner and saw her there, digging into a crate of new books. Despite my irritation with her demands for distance this past month, her beauty intoxicated me.

  “Hey,” I whispered. My voice caught in my throat.

  She started—leaping to her feet. “Tony!” Daphne plucked at her clothing and smoothed down the invisible wrinkles on her store clerk apron.

  She’d lost weight, despite my men keeping her fridge well-stocked.

  “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “Didn’t expect to?” I couldn’t help my icy demeanor. “Or didn’t want to?”

  “I can’t talk during work. Maybe we can have lunch sometime.”

  So I was lunch material now.

  Nice.

  No, fuck that.

  I grabbed her hand in mine, latching my fingers around her wrist so she didn’t get away, and pulled her towards the door.

  “What are you doing?! I need to tell Lucia I’m leaving.”

  Her words meant nothing.

  Day by day, my anger ate at me, nibbling my nerves raw until it felt like I’d jump out of my skin. Not to mention the filthy fantasies about Daphne awaiting me every moment I closed my eyes.

  These past thirty days was torture, and it was time to end it.

  “That’s what I’m trying to tell you, you little fool. No need to check with Lucia to ask if it’s okay. You are the fucking owner!”

  I swung her into my arms, walked her down the sidewalk, and sat her down on the white bench under the large tree offset from Main Street.

  She looked like an angry kitten, glaring up at me from her seat.

  I nearly laughed.

  “What the hell are you talking about, I’m the owner?” she spat.

  “Okay, not exactly accurate. Half-owner. Lucia’s expecting. She didn’t want to mention it so soon after Maggie and her baby…” She bit her lip in dismay at my insensitive approach.

  “I’m sorry. For bringing it up. Lucia said she wanted to cut back after the birth, and I asked her what she thought about having a partner in the business. Someone to help so she didn’t have to do it all. She liked the idea.”

  “So you two have it all worked out. What about me? Maybe I don’t want to stick around Briarville. The memories here are painful.” She wore her sorrow like an angry shroud, and I felt helpless, so helpless, to do anything for her.

  But also pissed.

  I’d waited.

  I hated waiting, and she’d made me wait.

  Money was never the end game for Daphne. I offered to invest a significant amount of cash in her business, and it meant little to her.

  No surprise there.

  The investment was no incentive for her to stay. I spoke my next words through clenched teeth. “I wouldn’t blame you for leaving.”

  The anguish of saying it out loud stabbed me like a knife, and I couldn’t breathe. “As many times as I’ve cursed your upbringing… How it made you doubt my intentions, believe you’re not good enough to love, and consider yourself damaged goods… I’d understand. Perhaps you’ll never get over it. I thought I could help you.”

  Despair twisted and turned inside me like a roiling snake.

  I wasn’t ready to give up yet. “But I swear on my grave, the pain of losing your love will last me a lifetime. I’m begging you, Daphne. Give the life we can have together a chance.”

  32

  Daphne

  Antonio Drago didn’t beg. The thought came to me while I organized bookmarks in their display case at the end of my shift at the bookstore.

  After I crawled back home from Mexico, beaten, defeated—he waited.

  The first moment I met him, after I’d been away to college, he cornered me in Chapman’s. “I’ve been waiting for too long to shock, sin, and shame you. Now my time has come.”

  The words made a hot blush settle over my cheeks. But they were nothing compared to the sinful spells he cast upon my body.

  More telling was the way he kissed my tears away, filling me with new happiness. Even surrounded by the Cartel, in a f
oreign land, my sister missing—through it all, with him at my side, I was content, alive, buoyed up by his love.

  Love, yes.

  He’d said it first.

  After the initial fog of grief lifted, I awoke from a long, deep sleep and saw daylight for the first time.

  Why would I turn aside from a relationship that made me whole?

  His friendship showed me the world was a good place.

  I’d move heaven and earth to preserve our passion.

  He wanted to protect me.

  He’d proven every day I’d known him, he wanted to guard my heart and soul.

  Made Man Drago was a risk worth taking.

  He’d said I was his entire world. He devoted himself to me and I’d regret it my entire life if I gave up on what he called the “sinful, magical, happiness” he’d given me.

  I’d memorized some of his words, same as the favorite passage of a book.

  A poem.

  Fondled them each day like rosary beads and uttered them under my breath as I walked down the sidewalk, shopped for groceries, stacked books much the same as sculptures at Chapman’s, cleaned after the preschoolers in the children’s section.

  I muttered them now, knowing if anyone spotted me, walking between book stacks and praying to see into the soul of a man, they’d think me insane.

  I felt close to it.

  Like if he didn’t hold me down soon, I might spin off the earth’s surface, a victim of zero gravity.

  Without his brawny arms around me, I’d continue to go through life adrift in the world.

  He was my anchor.

  My rock.

  Giving up Tony Drago was throwing away the best thing that ever happened to me. His love brought me back to life in ways I never imagined.

  And I’d treated him like shit.

  I picked up my phone. He’d be at the Diamante with his brother, Brando.

  Some things couldn’t wait.

  There would always be a hollow ache in my chest when I thought of my sister, but I gave myself permission to chase after happiness, even though she’d never had it.