by Belle Aurora
Surveillance quickly came to know his habits and determined he visited the same café every morning in his hometown of Chicago, Illinois. Before he had a chance to order his breakfast, Black’s guys swooped on him. He was taken into custody on little more than a whim, and now I’m silently praying the foxhole is still where I remember it to be.
The soldier boys are silent, as usual; the only difference this time is that Black bounces his foot up and down in noticeable apprehension.
A lot is riding on this memory of mine.
Lucky for me, I’m still sharp as a tack.
The driver navigates the directions I give him, and before we get there, my mouth turns dry, and I force an audible swallow. My brow damp from the humidity, I close my eyes in trepidation, but I should know better than to question myself.
An hour and forty-five minutes into our desert drive, the driver’s companion opens the hatch separating the navigators from the cargo, and announces, “Sir, we’re approaching some kind of bunker.”
My exhale is long and slow and one of pure relief.
Black looks over at me and nods respectfully. I incline my head in return.
It’s on.
But this time, I ain’t fucking around.
Into the silence of the cab, I announce, “I need a gun.”
All of the soldiers move at the same time, and my defenses rise. I look around at each and every one of their hands extended, pistols offered without question.
If I didn’t know better, I’d say these men were showing me some sign of respect.
I blink over at Black, daring him to say something, as I reach over to take a pistol from the guy sitting next to me. I mutter, “Thanks.”
Soldier boy responds, “No problem.”
I nod, my lips pursing, as I let out a quietly growled, “Let’s knock some heads.”
Life’s situations have a way of pulling emotions from you. The particularly trying moments stretching them so thin that you don’t really feel anymore. You just are. Existing as a drone, and nothing more. But in that state of numbness, those stretched emotions, however slender they may be, are still very much there. Yes, they are there. My mind fingers those emotions like strings of a harp, plucking at cords marked misery, sorrow, and grief, playing an unnamed piece that I will soon call vengeance.
My eyes have become so dry that even blinking feels a chore. But I don’t dare weep, not a single tear, however much I crave the release.
My heart tells me to harness the anguish I feel, to harness and use it.
Which I plan to.
Julius enters the bedroom. I know this because I hear his firm footfalls still once he reaches the bed. My eyes close as I lean over the sink, holding myself up by gripping the sides of the vanity until my knuckles turn white. I breathe deeply, trying to make sense of what I need to do.
Vito Gambino wants me dead. Gio wants the baby I never carried.
Gio murdered Miguel in cold blood and, in my opinion, an eye for an eye has been served. There is no longer need for me to die. My brother took my place. His life was worth so much more than mine.
Julius comes to stand at the open doorway of the bathroom. I feel his eyes on me, but I refuse to look at him. If I do, my sorrow will leak out of my eyes, spilling down my cheeks, and with it my fury.
“Baby,” he says in that smooth, gravelly lilt of his, and my stomach churns violently.
“They broke me. He killed my brother and now he wants my sister, Julius,” I mutter coldly. “She’s thirteen years old.” My eyes open, but rather than gazing up at him, I take in my own drawn reflection. “Thirteen.” I shake my head slowly. “He can’t have her. I won’t let him have her.”
“Okay,” he states.
“She’s just a little girl.”
“She is,” he acknowledges.
“He wants to break her. Hurt her. Steal her innocence. Turn her dark like he did me.”
He straightens. “Not gonna happen.”
Frustration wells up in me as I admit, “I need to do something. I don’t know where to go from here. I can’t even think of what to do, where to start.” My voice is weak when I mumble, “I want to kill him, but how—” I lose the words. When I find them again, I speak them resolutely. “How do you plan a murder?”
A long moment of silence, then quietly, “Come with me.”
It’s not a question, because he knows he doesn’t need to ask. Of course I’ll go with him. I’ll follow Julius anywhere, blindly. “Where to?”
“Not far.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out his car keys, holding them tightly in his palm.
I need to think, but I’m too wound up. Doing something boring, something uninteresting, like going for a drive, might help clear my head. “And when we get back, you’ll help me? We’ll make a plan?”
He stares down at me, unmoving, before stating, “You and me, baby.”
And it’s the words I need to hear. Those words are a declaration. Julius will help me, help rid my life of the parasites that are the Gambino family.
We’ll do it together, as a team. A storm is coming.
There are few facts in life.
The sun will always rise at dawn and set in the evening.
We are born with nothing and die very much the same.
And finally, we all bleed red.
These are undisputed facts, but I have my reservations. I’m dying to slit Gio Gambino’s throat to see what color evil bleeds.
At this moment, although I keep my chaotic emotions to myself, my shattered heart needs Julius more than he may ever know. So we’ll go for a drive, just so I can keep him close to me and I can be where I’m most comfortable.
By his side.
We reach the pristine white building, and although it’s now in the early hours of the morning, the lights are on, and I can see people moving around through the lit windows.
I glance over at Julius as he parks on the street. “What is this place?”
He blinks at me a long while before speaking, and when he does, my heart sinks. “Got a message from Falco while we were at Tonya’s.” Running his fingertip over the leather steering wheel, he reluctantly confesses, “Asked him to call your brother, let him know you were safe.” My cold heart warms somewhat. This beautiful man of mine. “Falco said Miguel went through your house after you left. Said the safe was left wide open.”
What?
Julius goes on. “Told me Miguel sent him some of what he found as insurance. Gio had been keeping an eye on him, thinking you’d contact him. Sent Falco discs, hundreds of them, dated and timed.”
I’m somewhat baffled. The only safe I know of, I emptied when I left.
My brows furrow in bewilderment. “What are they?”
Julius shrugs lightly. “Falco can’t get into them. The files are scrambled. He opened one, but it asked for a password. He didn’t key anything in. Ten seconds later, it fried his computer. Dead.”
“I don’t understand.”
“The files are protected,” he states carefully. “I’m guessing whatever is on them is important.”
“Okay,” I mutter to myself, before asking a long, drawn out, “and we’re here because…?”
“Braden Kelly. Irish mobster. Currently on parole.” He shoots me a knowing look. “Computer whizz.”
“You think he can work out what these files are.” Let me guess. “He owes you?”
Julius shakes his head. “No, but if he comes through, I’ll owe him.”
My chest aches at the subtle beauty of those words.
I was brought up in the underground, and I know what it means for a man to owe a favor. It’s never done lightly and quite a big deal to owe a marker. You don’t offer a favor unless you plan to deliver, because if you don’t deliver, you die. The issue is that you never know what you’re going to have to do as a result of a marker. It’s a worrying thought, to owe someone unconditionally like that.
My frosted insides begin to melt, my feeling of loss thawing at the
reminder of what I’ve gained in Julius.
Julius is willing to do this for me. It isn’t even something he questions, like it’s a no-brainer, as if I am worth the consequence.
The warmth that consumes me is comforting, and things I once never dared to feel come forth, igniting the barren pyre at my heart. It sparks, then a small flame flickers, and within moments, it roars into a blaze that the gods would deem worthy.
I’m falling in love.
Reluctantly at that.
Knowing the fact is rather startling. After Dino, I never thought myself stupid enough to fall in love. Let alone to a man like Julius.
Yet, here we are.
Now, I’m definitely not stupid enough to believe Julius will ever truly love me. But I would be blind to miss the way he looks at me. He may never love me completely, but he likes me, a lot, and I’ll take it. Love makes people do unpredictable, moronic things. Our marriage will leave me content, satisfied. Yes. I can see myself being comfortable in a coupling where my partner and I are attracted to each other, crave each other’s company and make each other laugh. I’ll consider it a bonus that I don’t get beaten every second day.
Julius steps out of the car and walks around to my door, opening it and helping me out. Testing the waters, I put all my pressure onto my heel and am more than surprised when all I feel is a light pinch that is completely bearable. I move to take his hand, but he pulls away. And, ouch, it hurts.
“Jesus.” He sighs loudly at the sight of my obvious reaction, shoving his hands into his pants pockets. “Don’t look at me like that, Ana. It would be in our best interest for Kelly to think we’re just working together.”
He’s right, of course, so when he jerks his head toward the building and starts walking, I follow behind, lagging in silent protest.
The reception area is empty, and the white fluorescent lights beaming against the spotless white walls hurt my eyes. There is a wooden door behind the reception desk that beckons, and I assume we mean to enter it, but Julius moves to the inconspicuous white door to the left, presses his finger to the button at the side of it and waits.
A speaker I can’t see shrieks then hums, causing me to wince at the ear-piercing sound. A gruff man asks, “Yeah, what do you want?”
Julius’s lip tilts up at the side and then inquires loudly, into a microphone that isn’t visible, “Braden Kelly around?”
A crackle and buzz. “Who wants to know?”
“Julius Carter.”
A drone then a semidistorted voice announces, “Well, fuck me.”
The door whirrs, then a loud buzzer sounds somewhere behind it. An audible click unlatches, and the unassuming door opens to reveal a redheaded man in his late thirties with a ginger beard. His eyes light and surrounded with laugh lines, he smirks at Julius, revealing a blinding white smile. “Fuck me, indeed.” Throwing his arm out, he takes the hand that Julius hasn’t yet offered and shakes it roughly. He has a light accent that intrigues me. “Carter, come in, will ya? I’ve got to get back before they fire me.”
Julius and I follow him inside and walk quickly along the stretched hall, rushing to keep up with the man I assume is Braden Kelly.
Julius sounds amused. “Doesn’t your family own this place?”
Kelly throws him a grin. “Oh, aye. And believe you me, they’d use any excuse to get rid’a me. Say I’m a bloody lunatic.” He looks around Julius to me and maintains his pace with ease. “You take out an eye with a letter opener one time…” He shakes his head and clicks his tongue audibly. “One bloody time.”
I can’t help the smile that forms at my lips. He’s quite amusing.
Just because these men are cold-hard killers, it doesn’t mean they don’t have a certain charm, and Braden Kelly oozes it.
We approach the door at the end of the hall, and Braden throws it open to reveal two other men sitting around a table who turn to look at us. One of them stands, a tall man with auburn hair long enough to curl behind his ears. When he sees Julius, his jaw steels. And although he’s clearly not happy about having us here, he shows his respect with a single nod. “Carter. How goes things?”
Julius inclines his head in a show of esteem. “Connor.”
The man who remains seated seems neither affected nor unaffected by our presence. He’s shorter than Braden, stouter than Connor, with his long hair tied into a ponytail at the base of his neck. He leans back in his chair, chewing on a pen, but his eyes smile. “Julius. What’s a fine man like you visiting the Kellys’ in the early morn? Don’t wish to get your pretty hair dirty?”
Braden laughs heartily. “Oh aye, Shane, nor those expensive shoes.”
My gut sinks at the insults they’re throwing. I mean, are they mental?
Do they have a death wish?
Connor grins at his brother’s ribbing. “Nay, lads.” He jerks his chin to me. “Look, will ya? He’s come bearing gifts.” He shoots me a wink and, without thinking too much, I walk toward him, not stopping until we’re nose to chest, and channel my inner Ling. I need to do this, because I’m convinced men like these would find the presence of a meek woman working with Julius suspicious.
I look up at him and smile, batting my lashes in clear seduction. He’s too entranced to notice my hand advancing. His surprised yelp when my fingers grasp his cock is everything. My smile remains as I squeeze harshly a moment before releasing him. Without losing eye contact, I move back toward Julius and listen as Braden and Shane laugh, while Connor hisses, gripping his dick through his jeans.
Braden shoves his shoulder into Connor. “Hope you like your presents with teeth.”
Shane adds, chuckling, “You won’t be getting no sympathy from me. You knew better, Con.”
Connor’s face turns red, but a smile twitches at his lips. He keeps his eyes on me, and when he speaks, his voice is warmer than it had been a moment ago. “And who might you be?”
I keep my mouth shut.
Julius responds on my behalf, “This is Maria Gambirella, from New York. She’s working with me a while.”
“Italian.” Connor tuts, clearly disgusted. Shaking his head in mock sadness, he sighs, “It could’ve been so good between us, love.”
At that, Shane perks up, looking intrigued. “Oh? What’s happened to Miss Ling then?”
Julius advises diplomatically, “Even Ling needs a break from time to time.”
But Connor frowns in my direction. “You look familiar to me.”
My gut begins to churn wildly.
It’s okay. He doesn’t know you. Relax.
I force my anxiousness to calm as I respond evenly, “We haven’t met.” I look down at his crotch and force a sly smile. “I would’ve remembered.”
Julius’s hand touches my lower back in warning. And my cheeks turn red with pent-up frustration.
If my feigned flirting bothers him, he shouldn’t have told me it would be better if these men didn’t know he was my husband. I’m just playing my role.
“So,” Braden starts, “why have you come calling? We haven’t seen you since our brother’s funeral.”
My mouth opens without permission or thought at that. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
All eyes on me.
After a moment, Shane responds with a heartfelt, “Thank you, dear. Mighty kind.” Then he raises his arms in the air, stretching. “But the boy brought it on himself, got his nose caught up in something he had no business being a part of, and that got him killed.”
Julius responds a quiet but unyielding, “Killing him wasn’t something I wanted to do.”
And it hits me like a wet towel thrown at my face, connecting with a harsh and echoing slap.
Julius.
Of course.
Judge. Jury. Executioner.
Shane eyes his brother’s killer hard. “We know. We all have our places in this world. Danny didn’t watch the road, and he stepped into oncoming traffic.”
Connor leans closer to me, blinking thoughtfully at my face. “I swear I’
ve seen you before, dearie. I just cannae place where.”
“You haven’t,” I say in a tone that leaves no room for contemplation.
Braden watches Julius carefully. “Enough chatter. Why are you here?”
Julius steps forward, taking a seat in the vacant chair in front of the desk, and I move to stand behind him. “Can you unscramble a file?”
Braden blinks, clearly not expecting the question. “It depends on what was used to scramble it in the first place.”
“How long would it take?” Julius asks, looking bored, tapping his fingers on the arm of the chair.
Braden shrugs. “If I had the file—”
Julius reaches into his pocket, retrieves a metallic USB and throws it to Braden. “How much?”
Braden Kelly clutches the USB and grins. “You think I’m stupid, Carter? Money means naught to me. Life of a gypsy, ya know. I’m thinking of something more useful.” Still grinning, his eyes widen as he points a finger at Julius. “I want a solid.”
It seems having Julius Carter owe you is worth more than all the money in the world.
Julius pretends to think about it a long while before he nods in acceptance. “A marker it is. Now…”
Braden moves around the desk and sits himself down before the running laptop. He locks in the USB and, without so much as a word, his fingers move over the keyboard at a rapid pace. A minute passes and he snorts in amusement. “Whoever scrambled these needs a solid kick to the shin. A five-year-old could have done a better job.” He glances up at Julius. “They’re video files. This’ll take no time at all. Sit tight.”
Shit.
Video files.
Oh shit.
My gut clenches.
They couldn’t be? Dino would never have been so stupid. He didn’t… He wouldn’t…
Would he?
Julius seems to be thinking the same thing I am, because his face turns hard and he stands rapidly, looking to Braden’s brothers. “Excuse us, boys. We need a moment alone.”
Shane raises his hands in understanding. “Come, Connor. We have work to do.”