I hear him typing into a computer, not even bothering to respond until he has what I need.
“The car is registered to Killian Moretti,” he says.
“Killian? You’re sure?”
“Says right here, yeah.”
“Can you get me any home addresses in his name? Any properties?”
“It won’t be in his name,” says Logan doubtfully. “But I can trace his bank accounts and see where the money is flowing, it will just take a minute.”
“Do whatever you have to,” I say.
I listen anxiously as I hear him clacking away at keys in the background. “121 Paterson street and 8860 Linwood. Looks like one might be for storage. A lot of square footage, but no plumbing or ventilation.”
If he’s taking Roman somewhere, it’s there. Still, it’s a stretch, but Killian has a reputation for being the cruelest soldier working for the Morettis. Rumors are that he never carries out a hit without torturing the victim first, even if there’s no information to be gained. The sick fuck just enjoys it, and he has my son. My fucking son. I twist my hands on the steering wheel, pushing the gas even harder.
I make the forty minute drive in fifteen minutes, fishtailing to a stop outside a large square building in the middle of an overgrown field and off a dirt road. Two cars are parked outside, and the plates on one match Killian’s. I pull my .44 free, racking a bullet in the chamber and barely resisting the urge to burst through the front door shouting for him to show himself. My only hope of saving Roman might be in surprising Killian, and I can’t risk letting him know I’m coming.
I move to the side of the building, jumping on a dumpster and using it to look through a window that is nothing more than just a square cut into the steel siding. There’s a tower of pipe and wood scaffolding a few feet from the window and an otherwise open space littered with dangling chains, grisly steel implements, and tall, flat tables stained with red. Fuck. The rumors didn’t even do this creep justice. He has his own personal torture room.
I quickly scan the space and find Killian with his back to me, standing in the corner bending over a table, running his finger along tools. Roman is lying motionless on a table. My stomach clenches when I see him, but I sigh with relief when his stomach rises and falls. Killian must have drugged him. Good. No three year old needs to have a memory of this place.
There are hanging sheets of clear plastic blocking off a section of the building, and I know there might be more Morettis behind them, but I can’t afford to wait. I need to do something and fast. A chain dangles from the ceiling not far from me. I eye it, quickly forming a plan. I could try to take a shot at him, but I can’t risk it. He’s too close to Roman, and even if I did hit him, the bullet could ricochet off one of the steel tables. I grit my teeth, jumping to grab the chain and swinging toward Killian.
The large man jolts, turning toward the sound of the chain. He grabs a cleaver and instead of rushing toward me, he lunges for Roman. I let go of the chain, dropping the few feet to the ground. I grab a steel tray full of tools, pulling it back like a frisbee as the tools slide off. I fling it toward Killian as hard as I can. It streaks toward him and he’s forced to lean back, using his arms to shield his face. It’s all the time I need to cross the distance between us. I jump over Roman tackling Killian to the ground.
We land hard, but he’s not phased. He frees an arm and tries to bring the cleaver down on my back, but I’m able to use my leverage to pin him down. I slam his hand hard on the ground, knocking a cleaver free, but the fucker is strong as a mule and he manages to flip me, getting on top of me and dropping a cleaver to clutch at my throat. I reach blindly, hoping to find the dropped cleaver.
My fingertips brush a handle just out of reach, jumping it further. My vision is going black and my throat is on fire. I feel my strength draining with every second he cuts off my air. I free my knee, bringing it up and into his crotch. He bucks, giving me the chance to smash my elbow into his nose and roll out from under him.
I stumble to my feet, coughing and sucking in a breath that burns. Killian stands, reaching to the table and grabbing another cleaver. His face is a mess, covered in dark red blood that streams freely from his nose, dripping from his chin. He runs toward me and I grab the heavy iron hook dangling from a chain beside me, pushing it into him. He dodges, but not fast enough. The hook catches in the black apron he wears, yanking him backwards.
I run into him, using my shoulder like a battering ram. I feel a slight resistance as the strap of his apron rips free from the hook. I slam him into the corner of a metal table, bending him backwards. He tries to swing one of the cleavers at me, but I catch his forearm, using his momentum to slam the blade down on his chest. His eyes widen and he gasps, breath bubbling as his lungs fill with blood.
I leave him to die, turning my back on him and finding Roman, who looks like he’s just laying down for a nap. I pick him up, cradling him against my chest and hugging him tight. My chest swells with emotion. My son. He’s okay. He made it. I still don’t know if Julia and I will be able to work things out, but whether she accepts me or not, I’m going to make sure my son never has to worry about getting food on his plate, and I’m going to make sure his grandma lives a long, long time.
I’m about to leave when I hear a groan. I turn, still holding Roman and looking toward the source of the sound. It is coming from the sheets of plastic. I turn slightly, putting my body between Roman and the plastic sheets, in case someone is waiting for me. I move one aside and have to do a double take when I see Ted. He’s bruised, bloody, and missing a finger. One of his eyes is swollen shut and his nose is crooked and bloody.
There’s a man who looks very dead in the chair next to him, bleeding on the concrete floor. I notice a long hose attached to the wall and a drain in the middle of the floor.
“Please,” says Ted, voice muffled through his swollen lips. “Help me.”
I step toward him, thinking about how much this asshole has impacted Julia’s life, how long he’s blackmailed her, and how much he deserves to be left here to die. A few months ago, I would’ve killed him myself, and I would’ve taken special pleasure in it. Now, I just feel the weight of my son in my arms and the soft movements of his chest. I look down at his face, marveling at how peaceful it is.
I’ve had enough killing. I’ve killed enough for a hundred lifetimes, and now I’m ready to be done. I don’t know if Julia would make an exception to her no violence rule for this prick, but I’m not going to. No more exceptions. No more violence. Well, at least less violence. I’ll still crack anybody’s jaw who threatens my family, but I’m going to find a line of work that lets me keep it to that. I’m going to do it for Julia and for Roman. My son. I still can’t get used to how good that thought feels. He’s my son, and I’m going to raise him to be a better man than I am.
I pull my phone from my pocket and dial 911. “You’re going to need an ambulance at 8860 Linwood, fast.” I kneel in front of Ted.
“Today’s your lucky day, Ted. I’m turning over a new leaf. But you owe me now. And you can bet your ass I will take personal offense if you make me break my new rules to find you and kill you.”
Ted stares, his one eye wide and watering.
“In fact, I think you need to go ahead and sign over the practice to Julia. You can file for bankruptcy after you do and move out of town to get away from the Morettis. They might not follow you.” I lower my voice, leaning closer. “But I will, if you make me. You have one week.”
He nods, whimpering.
“Good talk,” I say, clapping him on the shoulder and making him wince in pain.
74
Julia
I tap my fingers on the glass table in Vince’s living room. Everyone is here. Callie and her husband Damian, Aubriella and her husband Vince. All of their children are with their grandparents, which is good, given the colorful language that flows from the two Citrione men. Being around both of them is intimidating to say the least. Vince has a streak of grey in his hair, but he
carries himself with the poise and grace of a man who doesn’t back down from anything. The possessive way he guards Aubriella is cute, never situating himself in a position within the room where he can’t see her, never failing to touch her or speak softly to her when they are within arm’s length.
I can see that Damian is Vince’s brother from his eyes alone. Apparently, all the Citrione men have the distinctive dark eyes that carry so much weight they could knock a woman to her knees with a glance. But the two men are marked by subtle differences. Where Vince wears his power openly, proudly, and without apology, Damian carries a quieter sort of force about him. He isn’t shy about taking appreciative looks at Callie, either. I never knew Vince, except from what Callie told me about him, but I knew Damian. I used to work for him, technically at least. In practice, he was more like the mysterious owner everyone knew was part of the mafia. Now he’s a family man. It’s hard to believe, but looking at these hard men who have softened, at least slightly, gives me hope for what my future could be like with Leo.
Just thinking about him brings my mind to Roman, and thinking of Roman twists my heart. I’ve replayed the image of that car driving away with my baby inside at least a hundred times already, and I’ve relived the guilt of knowing that I couldn’t protect him. I can’t stop thinking of all the things I could have done differently to keep them from taking him. Why did I drive us out of the cornfield the same way we came in? Why didn’t I try yelling for the man chasing Roman to stop or I’d shoot Carlo? The questions swirl in my mind, threatening to drive me crazy with grief.
The only thing keeping me from absolutely losing it is Leo. He’s out there, right now, and he’s trying to save our son. A stranger could look into Leo’s dark, intense eyes and know in an instant that he’s a man who could move a mountain to get what he wants, and he wants nothing more than to save our son. I just hope he can do it.
“Can’t we do anything?” I ask, wincing as I bite my fingernail off too close to the skin.
“I called in a favor from Benny,” says Damian. “He’s got every available man heading to those two addresses, and I called my sniffer, Franklin. If there’s any more information on this guy who has Roman, Franklin will find it. He’s the best there is.”
I nod, still feeling like it’s not enough. Seeing Vince and Damian still here with me irritates me, but I know they both likely wish they could be out there looking, too, and they would if Leo hadn’t asked them to stay with me.
Callie sits beside me on the couch, squeezing my thigh and giving me a serious look. “He’s going to be okay, Jules. We’re going to—”
She trails off when my phone rings. It sits on the armrest of the couch and everyone is standing close enough to see who’s calling.
Leo.
I grab the phone, picking up immediately. “Is he okay?”
“I’ve got him. He’s safe, Julia.”
All the tension I’ve been holding melts out of me. I sink into the couch, clutching the phone tight, but letting my head fall back as I sigh. Tears well in my eyes. Roman is okay. He’s okay. I make a silent promise to myself that I’ll never let a day go by where I don’t tell Roman how much I love him or kiss his little forehead. I’ll never take him for granted. I’ll cherish every moment with him from now on. “Thank you, Leo. Thank you so much.”
The others in the room share a collective moment of relief, squeezing shoulders and hugging quietly.
“If you hadn’t got that plate number, I never would have found him in time. Anyone could have taken him. You saved him. Do you understand me?”
More tears come. How does he know I needed to hear that so badly? How does he know exactly what to say?
“I still think I should have—”
“No,” says Leo. “You were perfect. I might not have been able to save both of you. Getting yourself out of the mess was the best thing you could have done to save Roman.”
“I love you,” I say quietly into the phone.
I notice Callie nudging Damian from the corner of my eye. I blush, seeing Vince and Aubriella grinning at each other, too. “Can I get some privacy?” I snap.
They shuffle from the room, smirking.
“I love you too,” says Leo.
Vince insisted that we all stay with him for Thanksgiving. Considering Roman and I were kidnapped two days ago, I’d say we’re recovering nicely. Callie’s daughter Victoria is only a year older than Roman, and the two of them seem to be getting along well. Aubriella’s daughter is six and her son is seven, but the two of them are doing a good job of interacting with the little ones. They’re building a fort out of couch cushions in Vince’s living room while my mom helps Aubriella with the cooking. Seeing her face when we brought her here yesterday was great. She didn’t seem interested at all in the decorations or the mansion-like house Vince lives in. Instead, she was speechless as she watched the three Citrione men and made sure she milked every bit of help they were willing to give her, even though she has been doing really well with her chemo treatments lately and recovered a lot of her strength. I couldn’t help smiling. For their part, the Citrione men have been so gracious and kind to my mother than I’ve already started to feel like Vince and Damian are part of our extended family.
I grin a little when I realize if I ever marry Leo, they will be my extended family.
I move past Callie, who’s leaning on Damian’s shoulder while they watch Aubriella and my mom debate the best way to cook a turkey. Leo moves toward me, wrapping me in his long, powerful arms and bathing me in his scent. I breathe him in closing my eyes and sighing. Every time I’m in his arms and I feel his touch, I keep thinking it can’t get any better, that I can’t grow to care about this man any more than I already do, but I’m surprised every time.
Do I want to marry him? I haven’t had much time to think that one over, but it doesn’t take me long to decide. Yes. I want him in my life and I want him in Roman’s life, for better or worse. I hope he’ll change for us and find a way to leave the violence behind, but I can’t help remembering what my mom said about compromise. I care enough about him to compromise. I don’t know how I’ll do it or how I would live with the idea of him still living the life he lives, but if I have to, I’ll find a way. I get the sense that Leo is a man like my father though, and he will do everything he can to push the compromise as far toward my end of desires as he can.
“Upside down is really the only way,” says my mom. “It lets all the juices cook into the breast.”
Aubriella sighs. “But then the top of the turkey won’t get as golden.”
My mom shakes her head. “Just flip it and toss it under the broiler for a few minutes when it’s almost done.”
I tune them out, smiling a little. After so long on my own with just Roman and my mom to take care of, it feels wonderful to be surrounded by everyone here. It feels like I have a real family again.
The food is delicious. My mom has always been a good cook, and the addition of Aubriella’s touches to the meal make it even better.
“So,” asks Vince as he jabs a piece of turkey with his fork. “You going to come back to the Citriones now, Leo?”
Leo finishes chewing and purses his lips, shaking his head. “I don’t think so. I’m going to make my own way.”
“Fair enough. Couldn’t get Damian to work for me either, but I guess stubbornness runs in the bloodline.”
“Muscles, too,” murmurs my mom.
I smirk, but no one else seems to hear her.
“I think you might have the lion’s share of that stubbornness, honey,” says Aubriella to Vince.
Callie grins. “I might disagree there,” she says, nudging Damian.
I laugh, looking at Leo. “I find that hard to believe, too.”
The kids eat at a smaller table beside ours. Roman brings his plate to me a few times to get me to help him cut his food up, but he’s otherwise doing great with the Citrione kids. I’m thrilled to see it, because his only real interaction with another kid w
as always just with Amelia, and the two of them never seemed to hit it off.
Aubriella taps the top of the golden brown turkey breast with her fork and nods grudgingly. “I’ll give it to you, Mrs. Connors. The broiler was a nice touch.”
My mom smiles. “And I’ll give it to you, this is definitely the juiciest turkey I’ve ever had.”
Leo squeezes my leg beneath the table and gives me a mischievous quirk of his eyebrow. “Well, I’m stuffed. I was going to go grab some wood from out back to get the fire going.”
I wipe my mouth and set my napkin on the table. “I’ll go,” I say.
I blush when Callie smirks at Aubriella, but try to ignore them. Maybe the wood is really heavy. He might need my help.
Leo stands, looking absolutely amazing in the gray dress shirt he wears. His sleeves are rolled halfway up his forearms and I can’t stop watching the way the muscles flex when he uses his hands, making his tattoos dance. Leo decided that he and I were sharing a bedroom, which gave me a thrill of excitement at first. When I tried to protest, he said I was his girl, and he almost lost me once and wouldn’t risk it again. How was I supposed to say no to that? When night drew nearer though, all I wanted to do was sleep and cuddle Roman, who snuck into our bed because he was scared. He didn’t seem confused at all to see Leo sleeping beside me, and I have to say I might have enjoyed cuddling with my two men more than I would have enjoyed a night of sex.
But…
I’ve had plenty of time to fantasize about having his hands on me again, and I’ve spent a lot of time remembering how he felt inside me, and I’m tired of waiting. I need some kind of sign that this is real. Permanent.
We excuse ourselves and step outside, heading behind the house to find a pile of dry wood that Vince must have split. There’s an axe jammed in a stump of wood and a few unsplit logs beside it. Leo moves to grab some of the split wood and I clear my throat.
“What?” he asks.
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