The Holy Ghost

by M. E. Clayton

  The second the haze cleared, his eyes bulged, and he started screaming behind the rag stuffed in his mouth.

  Ciro grinned. “Glad you could join us.”

  “Randolph Masterson,” Luca began. “Son to Rachel and Darren Masterson, no siblings.” The panic on Randy’s face was real, but then he was in the presence of The Father, The Son, and The Holy Ghost. He knew he was fucked. “Graduated high school-barely. No real job to speak of, mostly odd jobs here and there. Used to live at 185 Marion Lane in Cedar Creek until you started mooching off your latest girlfriend, letting yourself get evicted and crashing at her place.” Randy was either agreeing or disagreeing, but his words were muffled, so I couldn’t be sure. “You have a few worthless friends…well, two short now with Tony and Eddie gone.” He looked over at me. “Am I missing anything else?” he asked, reciting the information Sal got for us on good, old Randolph.

  “You left out the best thing about Randolph,” I added. “His parents are both deceased. Drugs, I do believe.” I turned to face Randy. “Am I right? Drugs, correct?”

  “And that means no one will miss you,” Ciro finished.

  Randy was screaming again, but that was easy to ignore. We were used to the background noise of begging and pleading. It no longer fazed us.

  “So, here’s what’s going to happen, Randy,” I informed him. “We’re going to spend time with you in order of importance. Since Luca is Frankie’s best friend, he’ll get to go first. And, then, Ciro being Frankie’s brother, he gets to go second, and that’ll be a real treat. Luca knows he has to leave enough of you for us to get our chance, but Ciro, here…well, he tends to get overexcited sometimes.” Randy started thrashing around, but the great thing about our suspension chains? They were surrounded by insulation. The rattling was great for instilling fear in our victims, but they got to be annoying as fuck after a while. So, Randy was welcome to thrash about all he wanted.

  “I’ll do my best to leave you something to work with, Ghost,” Ciro chimed in and I smiled. Ciro’s enthusiasm really was contagious. It was probably why women loved him so much. If he fucked like he tortured and killed, no doubt his women were satisfied.

  I turned back towards Randy. “And, then, I get you, Randolph,” I continued. “I get you last because you dared to put your hands on my wife. Francesca Mancini Fiore is mine. She is mine and you fucked up when you presumed to put hands on the only thing that matters to me.” I walked forward and jammed my finger inside the bullet hole in thigh. His screams almost escaped the rag stuffed in his mouth but cutting his tongue out would fix that if it came down to it. “We’re going to avenge her, Randy,” I told him as I dug my finger deeper into his flesh. “We’re going to avenge her, and then we’re going to use you as an example of what happens when a person dares to go after Francesca Fiore. You are going to be a warning to everyone, and what’s left of you will be fed to the pigs, Randy.”

  I smiled up at him as I heard Luca clap his hands once and start rubbing them in anticipation. “I admit, it’s been a while since I’ve had to torture a motherfucker, but I’m sure it’ll be just like riding a bike,” Luca chuckled darkly. “What’s the worst that can happen, anyway?”

  I pulled my bloody finger from Randy’s wound and stepped back. “I’ll be seeing you in a couple of days, Randolph,” I promised.

  Chapter 22

  Francesca~

  Everything hurt.

  Everything hurt and I immediately thought of Robbie. I reached over and grabbed my phone off the nightstand. I saw that it was already past noon, but I wasn’t surprised. We hadn’t gotten home until after two in the morning, and once the adrenaline dispersed, I had crashed hard.

  I called her and after a few rings, it went to voicemail. I tried again, but when I got her voicemail again, I shot off a text asking her to call me when she woke up. I hated that she was at home, suffering alone, but I couldn’t do anything about it until I got through to Phoenix.

  If I even could.

  I got out of bed and made my way to the bathroom. Even though I had rinsed off before going to bed last night, I still needed a proper shower. I felt dirty and sore and hot water could only ease the pain, right?

  The shower was painful, but I managed. I washed my hair and scrubbed my entire body except for my face. I used a washcloth to tenderly do what I could around the cut down my face. After I was done showering, I dried off, and grimaced through the pain as I brushed my hair out and threw it up in a wet bun on top of my head. I applied some of the antibiotic salve Basco had left me for my face and popped a Motrin. I decided to save the hard stuff for when I needed to go to sleep tonight. The pain was horrible, and I knew I was going to need the help tonight.

  Wrapping my body in my old, but comfortable robe, I went in search of Phoenix. After he had dropped me off last night, he hadn’t said a word as he walked me up to his apartment. He also hadn’t spared me a second glace as he turned around and left once I was locked safely inside. I had tried calling Robbie after he left, but she hadn’t answered and I almost panicked until I remembered that Basco had given her a mild sedative. After that I had rinsed off and had gone to the kitchen for a glass of water when Ciro had stormed in and dropped my purse, phone, and keys on the kitchen counter. And I knew I was in trouble when he walked out without saying a word as well.

  I was on my way to the living room when I heard voices coming from Phoenix’s office. His apartment had an open kitchen and living room floor plan, but the other rooms in the apartment were closed off and private. It had three bedrooms, two and a half baths, a study, and laundry room. The hallway was the corridor to all these rooms with the master bedroom at the end, two guest rooms on the left side of the hall, and the study on the right. The laundry room was behind the kitchen and you passed it on the way to the balcony that was off the kitchen. You could eat outside if you wanted.

  So, upon hearing voices coming from Phoenix’s office, I pushed the door open and walked inside. Phoenix was on the phone, pacing the length of the room. I cleared my throat and he immediately looked my way. He still looked angry and it was confirmed when he snarled into the phone, “She just walked in, Luca. I’ll call you later.” He hung up without waiting for Luca’s reply.

  I walked father into the room and the tension almost swallowed me whole. “Phoen-”

  He threw his hand up, palm out, stopping me. “Why, Frankie?” he asked, and his voice tight and cold.

  “Phoenix, she texted me asking for help,” I answered. “She’s one of my best friends. How could I not go help her? Would you leave Ciro or Luca hanging if they asked you for help?”

  He stood staring at me and, just when I wasn’t sure if he was going to answer, he grabbed the desk light and threw it across the room. I flinched even though he hadn’t aimed it my way. I flinched because Phoenix was losing his shit and I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to rein him in.

  “That’s not what I’m asking!” he thundered.

  Frustrated, I shouted, “Then, what are you asking?!”

  “Why didn’t you tell me your friend was in trouble?!” he asked, still shouting. “Why didn’t you ask for my help? Hell, not even mine. Why didn’t you ask for Ciro’s or Luca’s?!”

  I tightened the robe around my waist. “The text said to go alone,” I pathetically explained. “She mentioned being intimidated by everything that was going on with discovering who I was to you guys, I thought she was just being…she said she didn’t want to borrow trouble.”

  Phoenix let out a harsh laugh. “Jesus fucking Christ, Francesca.” I knew I was partly at fault here, so I remained quiet. “Do you have any idea who we are? Who you are?” he snapped. “You are best friends with the most powerful man in Morgan City. Hell, in this entire fucking state. Your brother is one of the wealthiest and deadliest men walking the planet. And you’re married to the most prolific hit man in goddamn Mafia history. Do you get that? Do you understand that?”

  “Of course, I do,” I spat. “I’m not fucking
stupid.”

  “Then quit acting as if you are!” he roared, and, this time, the house phone flew across the room.

  “She needed help, Phoenix,” I repeated. “I wasn’t not going to help her!”

  “I don’t give a fuck that you wanted to help your friend,” he tossed back. “I give a fuck that I almost lost you! I give a fuck that you are so cavalier about your status as my wife that you put yourself in danger! That’s what I give a fuck about!” Phoenix rushed me and, without any regard to my injuries, his large hand clamped down on my arm. “And you better believe I give a fuck that you put someone else before what is best for our marriage,” he hissed.

  I could feel my eyes widened. “What are you talking about?”

  “Believing that Robbie was uncomfortable being around us, you chose to submit to her conditions rather than tell your fucking husband that your friend was in trouble, possibly placing you in trouble as well,” he clarified. “You ever chose someone else over me and our marriage again, and it’ll be the last thing you ever do.”

  “Meaning?” I asked, boiling with anger that he would treat me as if I didn’t have my own mind.

  “Meaning that I will handcuff you to the goddamn bed and never let you see the light of fucking day ever again if you ever think of stepping outside this building again without me, Ciro, Luca, or a guard.”

  I yanked my arm from his grasp, and I knew I was successful because he allowed me to disengage from his person. “I am not some mindless, simpering female who is going to let you dictate her life!” I yelled, wondering what the hell I’ve gotten myself into. This man yelling at me wasn’t the Phoenix I grew up with. This man was clearly The Ghost.

  “I’m not trying to dictate your life, Frankie,” he argued. “I’m trying to keep you alive. And for that to happen, you have to take this shit seriously. You are in danger every minute of the fucking day. And just as Luca, Ciro, and I have to, you have to constantly be on guard. You have to be smart, Francesca.”

  “What if I decide this is too hard and I don’t want this life?”

  Phoenix advanced on me until my back hit the wall. His hazel eyes were flames of lethal rage as he growled, “You think I was talking with my dick the first night I fucked you?” My body started shaking because I knew where he was going with this, and a small part of me believed him. “While I’d admit, it’s hard to think straight when your pussy is strangling my cock, I meant what I said, Francesca.” He leaned in closer and I could feel the rage coming off him in waves. “I will fucking see you dead before I ever let you leave me again. It doesn’t matter if Ciro and Luca come after me either because my life wouldn’t be worth living without you, anyway.”

  “Phoen-”

  He slapped his palms on the wood behind me, one hand on either side of my head, causing me to jump. “I give you my word, if you ever think of divorcing me or leaving me again, it’ll be over both our dead bodies,” he threatened.

  I knew he meant every word he said, and maybe it made me stupid that I wasn’t repulsed by his offensive threats, because any normal woman would be. These were not sweet words of love and devotion. They were serious death threats should I ever try to leave Phoenix.

  I looked him in the eye despite the shivers that ran down my spine. “I will not cower, Phoenix,” I told him. “I’m not going to be some scared, sniveling shadow of a woman who has to live by a barrage of rules that you set forth for me.”

  He shook his head. “You still don’t get it, Frankie,” he bit out. “I don’t want you to be some weak, simpering female. That’s not what or who you are. What I want is for you to own your role. Be the woman strong enough to be in this life. You need to become one of us.”

  I raised a brow. “Really?” I drawled. “Because if one of you got a message like the one Robbie sent me, you would have done exactly what I did. You would have taken control of the situation.”

  Phoenix straightened to his full height. “That’s where you’re wrong,” he replied. “None of us would have taken off into a situation like that without letting the other two know what was going on. And you didn’t take control of the situation, did you? You became the situation, Francesca. A situation we had to come in and handle.” He grabbed my chin and held it between his fingers, careful not to pull at the skin that was stitched up. “We are a family, Frankie. There are no lone wolfs here. The sooner you understand that, the better.”

  He was right, and I knew he was. Deep down, I had known I was being careless, but no one ever thinks they’re going to get kidnapped for fucking ransom. That shit only happened in the movies. Besides, I’d only been back home for not even a week. And it’s not like Phoenix and I had taken out an ad in the paper announcing our wedding. How the hell was I supposed to suspect I was up for kidnapping so soon?

  Ignoring his lecture, and refusing to give him credit for the points made, I asked, “What about Robbie?”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “What about her?”

  “She’s my friend, Phoenix,” I stated. “I can’t have you hating her.”

  “Frank-”

  “No, Phoenix,” I snapped. “I never told her not to say anything. I never told her she couldn’t talk about it or not to say anything to her boyfriend.” He didn’t look moved. “She was shocked when I told her who Luca was. Then she was doubly shocked when I told her who I was. Who I really was. It’s not…a crime or even unexpected that she would share the news with her boyfriend. Especially since I knew him too, and you know this.”

  His arms flew out to the side. “Frankie, you were beaten and almost sexually assaulted. Possibly killed,” he reiterated. “And you want me to just forgive her lack of judgement?”

  “I was beaten because I taunted them, Phoenix,” I clarified. “Had I kept my mouth shut and kept my ass planted in that chair, nothing would have happened to me. I’m the one who dared them. I’m the one who called out their manhood. I’m the one who perpetuated it.”

  “Frankie, I-”

  “Robbie was beaten because she caught him texting me, Phoenix,” I continued, refusing to let him dismiss what Robbie meant to me. “She caught him and tried to protect me. You saw her. She looked like that because she tried to protect me. And what did you guys do? You treated her no better than Randy!”

  “Oh, make no mistake, Francesca,” he sneered. “She got way better than what’s coming to Randy.”

  He wasn’t going to budge. I could see it. Maybe later, but not now.

  I was talking to The Ghost, not Phoenix.

  Suddenly, I was exhausted. I was starving, in pain, and just plain fucking exhausted.

  I lifted my chin and tightened my robe again. “Will that be all, Ghost?”

  Phoenix’s fist was tangled in my hair before I knew what hit me. His face was a beautiful mix of fury and love if you could believe that. “Don’t you ever call me by that name ever again, Francesca.”

  “Why not?” I whispered, so shaken, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to run from him or let my robe fall on the floor. “Isn’t that what everyone calls you?”

  “Yes,” he replied, his voice low. “But you’re not everyone. You’re my wife. Start behaving like it.” With that, he let go of my hair and stormed out of the study, slamming the door behind him.

  Chapter 23

  Phoenix~

  “You boys look refreshed,” I remarked, as the door to Ciro’s funhouse shut behind me. It was on an automatic lock with the same palm access as our apartments.

  “I got some sleep while Luca was up to bat first,” Ciro happily explained.

  “Then I got some sleep once it was Ciro’s turn,” Luca added, an honest to goodness grin on his face. The man rarely smiled that I almost forgot he knew how.

  “Let’s see what you guys left for me,” I said as I made my way to the middle of the room. “Christ, Ciro, this place stinks like shit.”

  “Well, what do you expect when someone shits themselves,” he retorted. He was sitting in one of the chairs outside the wet
zone, while Luca was sitting on one of the steps that led up to the ceiling beams. “I tried to Febreze the fucker, but it didn’t help.”

  “We should probably get the ventilation system looked at,” Luca casually remarked. “This building is kind of old.”

  I stopped in front of what was left of Randy Masterson, and it was a grisly sight. Luca and Ciro had left his eyes unharmed, but that was mostly because, if they were swollen shut, you couldn’t see the life leave their eyes, and where was the fun in that?

  However, the rest of him wasn’t fairing so well. His mouth had been sliced open to make him look like The Joker. I knew his tongue was no more just because that was one of Luca’s favorite things to do. He didn’t have patience for begging. I could see every finger he had-all ten of them-were broken at odd angles, some were even dangling off to the side. He’d been stripped naked and I could see the hundreds of precision stab wounds dotted all over his body.

  See, what very few people knew was that Ciro didn’t spend all his time beating, killing, or screwing. Ciro Mancini was extremely intelligent, and he wasn’t lazy. That level of brain power drove Ciro to have a passion for learning. In the six years since we’ve been doing this, Ciro had learned damn near everything there is to know about the human anatomy. It’s how he knew how to inflict the greatest pain possible, yet, still keep his victims alive. He knew just how far to push before sending someone into cardiac arrest, and he knew how to cauterize and sew up motherfuckers. And it’s how he knew where to stab Randy and still keep him alive.

  Ciro was a goddamn artist if you asked me.

  I reached up and slapped Randy awake. “Hey, Randolph? You remember me?” His eyes fluttered open, and they were glazed over in pain and helplessness. “I’m back,” I announced. His head dropped, his body begging for it to be over.

  I walked over to Ciro’s tray of goodies and Ciro said, “We left most of him intact for you. We know how you like to flay them alive.”