His Witness

by Vanessa Waltz

  “Just hang in there. We’re almost home.”

  Home.

  Does he mean it?

  I don’t feel safe until I’ve stepped into the warmth of Tommy’s apartment. Immediately he wraps his hands around my face, abandoning the calm pretense. I hiss from the painful contact.

  The rawness in his voice surprises me. “Melanie, I’m so sorry. I was a fucking moron for letting you go like that.”

  “I—I came to your house. I wanted to come back to you. That’s how they found me.”

  He pulls me into his chest, his long arms wrapping around me as sobs rack through my chest. “You shouldn’t have come back,” he sighs.

  No, I shouldn’t have. Now Tommy and I are going to die, all because I didn’t listen to him.

  “I’m sorry, this is all my fault—”

  “No,” he says in a hard voice. “It’s mine. I thought you would make a deal with the feds.”

  “I—I couldn’t.”

  He pulls back from me, and the smile on his face trembles. “You must have a death wish.”

  Even so, I feel so much better in his arms. This is where I’m supposed to be, I’m sure of it.

  “Sometimes I think that, too.”

  “Why couldn’t you just leave town and find a normal man who doesn’t have this shit in his life, huh?”

  The ease with which he’s willing to push me away hurts me. It’s like a hot needle impaled in my chest.

  “You don’t think I second-guess myself? That I wonder if I’m going insane?”

  His face softens. “Then why do this? Why be with me?”

  The air shakes through my chest. “I love you, Tommy. I couldn’t just leave you.”

  The pain of leaving him strikes my chest suddenly, the needle becoming a knife. The edges burn into my flesh, even worse when he gives me that sad look.

  Soft lips gather my mouth in his, a barely held back hunger burning from his skin. I lean into him as his tongue gently brushes over my bottom lip. Heat spreads over my skin like the sudden flush of alcohol, and he trails his fingers down my arms, kissing the tender spots on my face and holding me close to him.

  “No one’s ever said that to me before—not even my own mother.” He breaks off for a moment, gazing into the distance. “I don’t know what love is.”

  His attention turns back to me as I slowly deflate. Rough hands slip under my shirt, teasing around my back. “I always thought that the part of people that felt love and affection was just missing in me. Everything was just stripped away when I was so young, and after that there was nothing but rage.”

  My insides boil when I think of Jack, mentoring a young Tommy to maim his victims. Slimy piece of shit. I take his cheek in my hand, gazing up into his deadened eyes.

  “You are capable. You’re a good person—”

  His laughter rings down the hallway as he shakes his head. “I’m not, Melanie. Don’t make any fantasies about me. I’ll always be a rotten bastard, and that’s okay. I’ve made my peace with it.” The humor disappears from his face. “All I know is that when I saw them hurt you, they had to die. I’ve never done that for anyone.”

  A small laugh shakes out of my lips, warming the chill he gave me. “Well, I think threatening to kill a boss of the family for me means something.”

  He gives me a humorless smile. “It wasn’t a threat.”

  “What?”

  “He’s going to send some guys to kill us. Probably soon.”

  My heart slams against my chest as I hear his calm, detached voice. “So what the hell are we waiting here for?”

  He lifts his shoulder in a shrug. “They’ll find us no matter where we run, sweetie.”

  “So you’re giving up?” I ask with an edge in my voice.

  “Like hell. I’m going to kill the bastard first.”

  Kill a boss?

  I thought that was unforgivable. Admittedly my knowledge of the Mafia extends to Godfather I and II, but I thought that it was impossible to kill a boss—and stay alive.

  “How exactly—?”

  I squeal when he lifts the shirt from my head in one swift motion, his hands suddenly twisting at the bra clasp behind me. Cold, I cover myself and stare at his grinning face, wondering if he really has snapped. Maybe I shouldn’t trust him so easily.

  He yanks down the bra straps, raising an eyebrow when I continue to cover myself. That devious look is back on his face, the monster desperate for play. I back against the wall as he corners me, running his hand down my arms.

  “I owe you an apology, sweetheart.”

  The gritty voice hissing over my ear hardly sounds forgiving.

  “I should have never let you think that I was capable of letting you go. I can’t. It’s not in my nature to be selfless.”

  His fingers send heat all over my skin, but I can’t be distracted from imminent death. “How are you going to do this? Why can’t we just run?”

  “Run?” He frowns as if the idea never occurred to him. “I’m no coward. Besides, this isn’t something you can run from.”

  His hands then grope my tits, slowly fondling the flesh. The devilish smile spreads into dimples. He knows how much this affects me. “But—hold on—shouldn’t we?”

  “I’ve been way too soft on you,” he groans in a voice that makes the hairs on my back stand to attention. The fist in my hair suddenly clenches and I wince as he pulls my head back. “I’m in charge—not you. I’ll make the decisions.”

  “I get a say in the decisions.” I grit my teeth.

  Suddenly his face darkens. “Do you love me?”

  My insides flutter. “Yes, I do.”

  A small smile crosses his face, and he slacks the grip on my hair, tracing my bottom lip with a faraway look in his eyes. “I would never ask you to do anything like what I’m doing for you now.”

  My cheeks burn. “I know—I still can’t believe what you did.”

  “I’m not trying to make you feel guilty. I have no regrets.”

  I don’t see how that’s possible. My chest swells with a leaping feeling, a smile twitching on my face.

  He loves me. He must.

  “Would you do anything for me? Anything to keep me safe?”

  Puzzled, I return his solemn gaze. “Yes.”

  “Then you’ll do as I say for both our sakes.”

  TOMMY

  Underneath the Brooklyn Bridge is a convenient spot to have a private conversation. It’s deserted, quiet, and the cops don’t monitor it. A cold breeze suddenly blasts through our coats, riding over the icy water. Nicholas, a short, stocky man who’s one of the most reliable men in my crew, doesn’t even bother bunching his coat together. He stares at me with a slack-jawed expression.

  “You want me to help you whack a boss.”

  “Yeah.”

  I bounce on my feet, as if propositions to kill bosses happen all the time.

  “You’re fuckin’ crazy.”

  My eyes narrow dangerously at that assessment. “He left me with no choice. That doesn’t make me crazy.”

  “You don’t even know if he’s gunning for you.”

  True, I had a hard time believing he would come after me, given our history and everything I’ve done for him, but it would be a mistake for him if he didn’t. A stroke of guilt wipes the smile from my face. Is this what I’ve come to?

  Killing the very man who gave me this life?

  “There’s a lot of money in it for you.”

  “No fucking way.”

  Bitter disappointment roils in my stomach as he turns his back on me and walks away.

  “Fine, then I guess you’ll have to find some other way to pay for your wife’s cancer treatments.”

  He pauses for a moment, but shakes his head and continues to his car.

  So much for him.

  I sigh heavily and trudge up the hill to my car. Once I’m inside, I slam the door shut and grasp the wheel.

  It’ll be a hard sell for the other guys. Whacking a boss makes you ene
mies you’ll probably never get rid of, unless the old crew is completely wiped out. The other families won’t like it—might send guys to avenge Jack, and then I’m stuck with the same fucking problem.

  No, I need to give them a reason to want to get rid of Jack. How could I fucking do that?

  Melanie shrinks in the passenger seat, her lips white as she sucks in her bottom lip. Her black curls contrast beautifully with her pale skin, and when her teeth release her lip, a bright-red color rushes into them. I reach out and touch her face, feeling a small tug in my chest when she sighs into my hand. I know she doesn’t want to be here, but after what happened before I’m not letting her out of my sight.

  “Any luck?”

  “No.”

  A shaking sigh expels from her lips, almost as if she’s relieved. I can’t believe what a bleeding heart she is.

  “You don’t have to do this,” she says for the millionth time.

  “Unfortunately, I do.” I stroke a finger over her bottom lip and a pretty pink color fills her cheeks.

  “This is just insane!”

  “I can understand why an outsider would feel that way, but trust me. This is how it is.” Resentment boils in my stomach and my voice drops down to a hush. “He did it behind my back, after I asked him not to—after everything I’ve fucking done for him, and I’ve stepped way over the line by killing those guys at the deli. He’s coming after me. I don’t know how or when, but he is.”

  “But how do you expect to do this?” she asks me in a high voice. “When everyone’s on his side?”

  “I don’t have a choice.”

  She stares ahead as her eyes slowly fill with tears, and I feel a rush of affection for her. She’s held it together remarkably well, considering everything she has been through.

  “Tommy, just let me go to him.”

  “What?” I figure I must’ve heard wrong.

  “Just take me to Jack.”

  Tears slip down her face. Two of them drop from her cheek and run down my hands. My stomach feels suddenly empty.

  “No.”

  “But it’s hopeless—”

  “It’s not. Baby, you need to calm down.”

  Her voice turns shrill. “How can I calm down when your life is in danger, too?”

  I stroke her incredibly soft hair and wonder how the hell I got this woman to give a flying fuck about my life. “I’d rather die than give that fucking asshole what he wants. Melanie, he tried to take you from me. You really think I can let that go? Just walk away and never think about it again, no problem?” My hand falls from her face and I sit back, shaking my head. “God help anyone who tries to take you away from me.”

  “But what if you get killed because of me? How am I supposed to live with that?”

  I don’t point out that if I’m dead, she’s probably fucked. “I’m not giving you up, Melanie, so stop mentioning it.”

  It just upsets me.

  She gives me a watery smile. “I love you.”

  A thrill that I’ve never known before shoots up my spine, burying somewhere in my chest whenever she says those words. In the past, I would have never done all this for some broad, no matter what she looked like. The man I was would have put a bullet in her head, or strangled her with a garroting wire, and been done with it. If it were anyone else, I would have followed Jack’s orders and become made. My life would be complete. That desire still exists inside me, but just the idea of her death makes me inwardly recoil. My very being rejects it, like an act against my nature, except I’ve murdered countless men for Jack and never lost a night of sleep over it. Why now?

  That must be love, right?

  A fluttering, weak feeling fills my stomach when she leans over and kisses me. My hand buries in her hair and I feel lost in the smell of her shampoo, the softness of her lips, and the little moans she makes. I know this isn’t the time, but I just want to drag her in the backseat of my car and fuck her until she screams.

  Shattering glass springs us apart. The noise makes Melanie lift her head in confusion, and for one heart-stopping moment I think about how exposed she is. It all happens in an instant. I shove her head down and take cover behind the dash to grab my gun as glass shatters over our heads.

  Fuck.

  Still ducking, I start the car as gunshots zip through the windshield and shift it in drive as Melanie’s screams stab my ears. It’s too risky to risk raising my head and getting it blown off, so I gun the engine and move the wheel toward the angle of the shots. A male scream mingles with Melanie’s voice, and then a heavy object clips the side of my car and the wheels roll over something that resembles a log. I check the side-view mirror and see a man sprawled on the pavement, his gun a few feet away.

  I slam the car to a halt and wrench the parking brake, not sparing a second to get out of the car and make sure the motherfucker dies. He’s an older man, his cracked glasses lying next to his head as his mouth gapes soundlessly. His ribs are probably broken and they punctured his lung, and I feel a savage triumph for the amount of pain he must be in. It’s Paulie, one of Jack’s captains.

  Oh well.

  My gun rises to his temple. What I’d like is to bring him home with me and make him scream, but there’s no time to play. Crack, crack. Crack, crack. The gunshots split the cold air. Two slam his head back, and two more bury inside his chest.

  Bye, Paulie. I never really cared for you, anyway.

  I watch him die—really it’s an instant death, so I’m just watching his blood stain the pavement. My heart pounds against my ribs, flooding my veins with fire that radiates outward like an oven.

  Fuck you, Jack. We are done. We are finally fucking done.

  * * *

  Melanie stays silent as I weave through streets where Jack frequents. His home is out of the question—there is undoubtedly a guard waiting for my ass to swing by. She asks me what my plan is, and I don’t have an answer. It’s not enough to kill Jack. The others will come after me just the same.

  I need them on board.

  How, though?

  I switched the car out with another one using my contact at the chop shop. He never asks many questions, and I need a car that the others won’t recognize. He gave me a 2000 Ford Mustang. Totally not my style, but it’ll do.

  Finally I find the motherfucker sitting outside the deli. My deli. Where I personally butchered dozens of people. It makes my skin tingle to be so close to him. More than anything, I want to gun his ass down in the street. Fucking piece of shit.

  We stay there for hours, Melanie not saying a word. I think she’s afraid that they’ll hear her all the way down the block. Finally Jack gets in his car and drives away. I decide to follow him for a while.

  Two blocks behind. I always stay at least two blocks behind my target. I follow him past the Brooklyn Bridge and Queens. I’m almost certain he’s heading back to his house, but then he takes the 295 up toward the Bronx.

  “What the fuck?”

  It’s almost as if he knows he’s being followed. We drive way out of New York City proper, passing Yonkers, then White Plains. Jesus. As far as I know, we don’t have any people in this area. In Valhalla, a dreary suburban town, he finally takes an exit and turns into the parking lot of some shitty-looking café. I drive right past it.

  “Where are you going?” she hisses, looking over her shoulder.

  “I’ll double back.”

  I don’t want to take any chances raising Jack’s suspicions, and I’m really curious about why he’d travel so far just to get a cup of coffee. Is he working with new guys in the area? Maybe he wants to hire a hit man?

  I have no idea. The car swerves around, and I enter the parking lot, pleased to see that Jack’s car is empty. The engine cuts off and we’re thrown into complete silence. The car ticks as it cools down and Melanie tightens her jacket around her body as the heating vanishes. I scan the café for Jack, but he’s nowhere near the windows.

  “Fuck. We’ll have to go inside.”

  “And t
ip him off? Are you crazy?” she hisses under her breath.

  I feverishly search for Jack again, seized with an overpowering curiosity. Why the hell is he here? I know I should just get the fuck out of here, and wait until he’s alone, but I can’t help it. Then I see Jack moving against the glass, walking toward the back of the café. Luckily it’s one of those big chain breakfast restaurants, and it’s packed.

  “Okay, let’s go.” Heart pounding with excitement, I open the door and get out. She quickly follows suit and grabs my arm in a vise grip.

  “This is insane.”

  I inhale a cold bellyful of air that stings my lungs. Maybe it is crazy, but I’m already this far and I’m out of ideas.

  “Just act normal, babe. Act like you’re just getting breakfast with your boyfriend.”

  From the way my arm is getting numb from the lack of circulation because her hands are wrapped so tightly around me, I gather that it won’t be that easy for her. I walk with her around my arm, and I have to admit that I’m comforted by her presence. The door opens for her, and she gives me a terrified look before walking through it.

  It’s such a loud place that my nerves quell almost instantly. As we approach the hostess stand, I scan the heads of patrons, searching for a white head of hair. Finally I spot him against a back wall to the right. He’s surrounded by a couple other guys who I don’t recognize.

  “I know which table I’d like,” I tell the young girl. I point in the direction and she nods.

  Now this is the tricky part. I’m moving directly in Jack’s line of sight, but he won’t notice me unless I attract his attention. I take a seat in front of his table, at least three tables removed from his, my back facing him. Melanie’s face whitens as she sits down, giving me a meaningful look.

  “Coffee, please.”

  I strain my ears, trying to listen in on the conversation, but it’s too hard to make out in the din. Melanie leans forward and her hand grips mine hard enough to make my knuckles ache. “We need to leave now.”

  Her voice is so low that I can barely hear her. “Not yet.”

  “I recognize those men he’s talking to.”

  “What?” I nearly give in to the temptation to look behind me, but instead I use a highly reflective piece of laminated paper to see a warped view of the man sitting next to Jack. He’s bald and wears a somber expression.