by B. B. Hamel
I shook my head. “Come on,” I said. “It’s such a cliché. I mean, you didn’t have to act out, commit crimes, you didn’t have to do any of this. These guys, these mafia assholes, they only care about themselves. They never cared about you.”
He watched me carefully and I shifted in my chair again. I knew I crossed a line and was being a jerk, but my anger flared up. I was this guy’s prisoner more or less and he was trying to tell me some sad story about his hard childhood.
Meanwhile, he was my warden, and I was the one in shackles.
“You’re probably right,” he said after a while. “They didn’t care about me, not at first. But after a while, you form bonds with these guys, even if you don’t want to. You start to care about them, start to care about their people. Steven gave me a home in his crew, taught me the value of fighting for a cause, kept me out of jail. I owe him a lot for that.”
“He turned you into a killer,” I said.
“Who says I wasn’t a killer already?” he asked, smirking at me.
I felt a chill run down my spine. “I’m not ready to write all your sins away just because you had it hard when you were younger.”
He made a dismissive gesture. “That’s not what I want.”
“What do you want, then?”
“You sit around here, acting like you have it so hard, like your whole life is over because some mobster uncle left you a few million dollars. Meanwhile, you had a mother who loved you, hell, you had a father who loved you, he just died young. You know how many kids lose a parent when they’re young?”
“I’m not acting like I have it hard,” I said, leaning forward and gripping the table.
“Sure you are,” he said. “Look at you, staring at me like I kicked your puppy.” He shook his head. “Come on, Clair. Your dad died, but that doesn’t mean the whole mafia is fucked up because of it.”
“You should hear the stories my mom tells,” I said. “Stories about you assholes hitting your wives, your girlfriends. About you assholes killing each other in the street. About you assholes getting people hooked on drugs, or stealing from small business owners, or fucking things up for everyone else then taking credit when you come in to fix your own mistakes. Don’t act like you all have it so hard when you’re going around breaking things.”
He crossed his arms and stared at me. I was breathing hard and I could barely control my temper. He was such a bastard, such a selfish asshole. He couldn’t see how his actions affected everyone around him, he could only see that he had a difficult life, like that was all that mattered.
But you don’t get a free pass. Doesn’t matter how hard things are. You turn into a killer, then you’re a killer, full stop. And killers don’t get forgiven.
“You have no idea what we do,” he said, his voice soft.
“You sell drugs, don’t you?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said.
“You ruin lives that way.”
“I don’t make anyone take them,” he said. “That’s a choice. You want to talk about choices, but you’re going to blame me for other people’s mistakes?”
I opened my mouth, shut it again, and glared at him. “Addiction is different.”
“Is it?” he asked. “It sounds like you’re willing to forgive an addict for making bad choices, but you’re unwilling to think for a second about how a guy like me might end up in the mafia.”
“If you want me to forgive you, that’ll never happen. You’re my captor, remember?”
“I’m not your captor,” he said. “You want to leave, go ahead. You saw what happened the last time you left here. I had to come and clean up your mess.”
I sat there, staring at him, mouth hanging open. I remembered Luca coming out of the shadows, shooting that man in the head. I remembered him taking me away, making sure I was safe, making sure I was okay.
He saved me once. And I was still angry at him.
“What am I doing here?” I asked him, and was surprised when I heard the emotion in my voice, the tears that threatened to spill.
His posture relaxed a little and he shook his head. “I really don’t know,” he said. “I really don’t know what the Don has planned for you.”
“Do the Jalisco, do they really want to hurt me?”
“They do,” he said. “That’s not fake. You heard Hog earlier. The Jalisco, they’re the most violent Mexican cartel there is, and that’s saying a lot. We’ve been trying to stamp them out, get them out of this city, but they’re like roaches. They just won’t give up.”
“If I left, do you think they’d try and hurt me again?”
He nodded once. “Of course,” he said.
“So I’m really trapped then.”
“I’m sorry,” he said. “You’re really trapped. And it seems like you’re stuck with me.”
I reached out for my wine with a shaking hand, but it was empty. He leaned forward, grabbed the bottle, and poured me a small glass. I took a sip and stared down at my cleared plate.
“I don’t know how I ended up here,” I said.
“Chance,” he said. “You’re lucky, though. The Don didn’t have to bring you in. He could’ve fed you to the wolves.”
“If you think I’m going to feel grateful to that asshole, you’re kidding yourself.”
He sighed and sipped his drink. “I don’t need you to be grateful,” he said. “But maybe not so angry.”
“Can’t promise that, either.” I stared at the table for a moment as darkness truly descended around us. “You talked about losing your parents, never having an adult care about you. But imagine if you did have one, but then that adult was taken from you by a specific person.”
“You think Don Leone’s to blame for your father’s death?”
“Maybe not directly,” I said. “But my mom always seemed to think he was to blame somehow.”
Luca rubbed the stubble on his chin and cocked his head. “What are you gonna do if that’s true?” he asked. “If the Don really did whack your dad for some reason?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“You need us right now. And that means you need the Don.”
“I know,” I said. “You don’t have to keep saying it.”
“I feel like I do, though. You haven’t seemed to figure it out.”
I pushed back from the table, suddenly too angry to stay still. I stood up and paced away toward the weed patch at the back fence. I could feel his eyes on me and I wanted to scream at him.
“You don’t get it,” I said, turning around. “My whole life, I was taught that you people are the enemy. And now you want me to rely on you.”
“I’m not the enemy,” he said. “You don’t even know me.”
I waved my hand at that. “You and everyone like you,” I said.
“You’re so obsessed with this idea that we’re all monsters.” He stood up, slowly pushed his chair back. I blinked up at him, at his muscular arms and gorgeous eyes. He came around the table and walked toward me. “Sometimes monsters are necessary.”
“I don’t want any of this,” I said, my voice a hoarse whisper.
“I know that,” he said. “You keep telling me. But that doesn’t change anything. So what are you gonna do, Clair? Are you going to keep being angry, or accept that you’re here, with me?”
I stared at him, unable to help myself. He stopped just inches away from me, staring down with those gorgeous eyes that made me want to fall directly inside of them. His full lips were tempting, his messy brown hair was thick, and I felt so stupid and messed up.
Every time he came near, I forgot that I was supposed to hate him, at least a little bit.
“Tell me I’m just a monster,” he said, his voice soft and low. “Tell me that’s all I am and all I’ll ever be. I’ll go back inside and let you sit out here alone. I won’t bother you until this shit’s all finished.”
I chewed on my lip, unable to help myself. I wanted to say the words so badly it hurt. I wanted to get through this and to
move on with my life, because if I didn’t I was afraid he’d scar me, break me, and leave me a mess in his wake.
“I don’t know you,” I said.
“Yeah,” he said. “That’s what I thought.”
He came closer. I didn’t step back as he reached out and touched my face. I clenched my jaw and went to push him away, putting my hands on his chest. But he caught my wrist, held it there, and I felt his heart racing, felt his muscles bulge.
He leaned down, holding my wrist, other hand on the small of my back, and he kissed me.
I leaned into that kiss. I tasted his lips, turned my head, let his tongue slide against mine. I felt his body crush against me, his hard muscles, all his weight, all the power behind him. I knew he could take me, wrestle me to the ground and dominate me, but there was still something strangely tender about the way he kissed.
But then the anger flared up again, that old anger I couldn’t quite keep at bay. This bastard, this monster, he thought he could just come up to me, give me some stupid fancy duck, get me to drink a glass of wine, and then kiss me.
Like he owned me. Like I owed him something.
I struggled away and staggered back. I stepped into the weed patch, felt the plants brush against my legs, and pressed myself against the fence. I stared at him, breathing hard, and he looked right back, a smile on his lips. But he didn’t come closer.
“Tell me you didn’t like that,” he said.
“Go to hell.”
“You dirty little girl.” His smile got bigger. “You’ve been thinking about that since we met, haven’t you? You waltz around here, pretending like you’re all high and mighty, but the moment I touch you, you’re losing your mind.”
“Fuck you,” I said and shoved past him. My heart raced so hard I thought I might pass out. Sweat dripped down under my arms, and for a second I was afraid he’d grab me and hold me again.
But instead, he let me go. He stood and watched as I made it to the back door, breathing like I’d just run a marathon.
“Keep pretending,” he said. “But we’re not that much different, you and me. I just chose to live my truth.”
“Yeah?” I said. “And your truth is what? Killing people?”
“Doing what I have to do for my family,” he said.
“They’re not your family,” I said. “They’re just… mobsters.”
“They’re all I have.” He smiled a little bit, and for a moment, just a brief moment, I could see all the pain in his eyes, the pain he must’ve carried around inside of him all the time, that pushed him to become what he was.
But I wouldn’t forgive him. I didn’t care how good he kissed, how strong his arms were. I didn’t care if he cooked, or laughed, or smiled, or pushed me against that fence and fucked my brains out.
He was a monster, plain and simple, and I wasn’t going to be his savior.
I turned, pushed the door open, and ran inside before he could stop me.
11
Luca
I woke up early the next morning and stood over the sink in the kitchen eating cold Peking duck for breakfast and drinking steaming hot coffee. I stared down at the metal sink, at the marks and scratches from years of use, before stretching my back with a groan.
I could still taste her on my lips. No matter how much I ate or drank, she was still there, lingering right on my tongue. I couldn’t seem to shake her, not the angry look she gave me, the rage somehow making her more beautiful, not the way she let out a little moan as soon as my tongue touched hers, not the way she let me press my body against her soft, gorgeous breasts. I couldn’t take any more, I knew she would’ve let me, knew she wanted it as much as I did, but something held me back.
It was the conversation we’d just had.
It hadn’t gone to plan.
Not even close.
Maybe she was right. My past was rough, much rougher than she knew. I didn’t tell her about the abuse, about the older kids beating the shit out of me regularly, about learning to defend myself, learning to take care of myself because nobody else would. I didn’t tell her that finding the Leone family was like finding a home.
But I knew she would’ve rolled her eyes at that.
She wasn’t wrong about some of it. I made my choices. I chose to kill, chose to steal and fight and sell drugs. I chose to become the monster that I am today, all because I wanted to fit in with the only family that ever seemed to give a tiny shit about me.
I didn’t deserve sympathy. Hell, I didn’t know if that’s what I wanted.
Maybe I just wanted her to look at me like a person, without a hint of fear in her eyes.
That wasn’t happening though. And I’d have to be okay with it.
Because there was still the desire, mixed with the fear, and I’d take that.
As I sipped my coffee, my phone began to vibrate on the table. I walked over, picked it up, saw Steven’s name on the screen.
“Hello,” I said. “What’s up, boss?”
“Morning,” Steven said. “I was wondering if you’d be awake.”
“I know the deal. Up early, get shit done.”
He snorted. “You’re not working for my crew right now, so I figured you’d take a vacation.”
“Not how I roll,” I said. “Besides, I’m responsible for the girl here.”
“How’s that going?”
“About as well as you’d expect.” I put my mug down and sat in a chair, the legs creaking under my weight. “She hates my guts and already almost got herself killed.”
He laughed. “Sounds about right.”
“But otherwise, we’re having fun.”
“Well, listen, I’ve got something for you.”
“What’s that?”
He cleared his throat and I heard some noise in the background. I figured it was the bakery, which was confirmed when I heard Sergio talking again, close this time, loud enough that I recognized his cadence. Steven told him to fuck off, laughed a little, something dragged against the receiver and made static noise.
“Sorry,” he said. “Sergio being a dick.”
“Tell him I said hey.”
“Will do.” He let out a breath like he was sitting down. “Look, so here’s the deal. I got word of another nest, a little infestation up in North Philly. Near Temple, actually.”
“Really?” I asked. “The Jalisco living near a bunch of college kids?”
“They probably think we’ll steer clear,” he said. “And those Temple cops are no joke.”
“Third biggest police force in the state,” I said. “Fucked me up once or twice.”
“We’ve all been there,” he said. “But listen, we can hit them hard, clear out the rats. Who knows, maybe the Jalisco that are out hunting you are staying there.”
I leaned back and looked up at the ceiling. “I’m not sure I can take part,” I said.
“Run it by the Don,” he said. “You don’t have to come if you can’t leave the girl. But run it by the Don anyway and see what he says.”
“You can always do that, you know.”
“Nah,” he said. “You take this one. It’ll win you some points if it works out.”
“And I’ll get blamed if it doesn’t.”
“Hazards of the business, but come on, little brother. When have I ever steered you wrong?”
“That’s the sort of shit people say in movies right before something bad happens.”
He laughed at that. “Yeah, okay,” he said. “But it’s true. So think about it.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Good. Tell the girl I said hey. You fuck her yet?”
“Not my style,” I said.
“Oh, right. Your style is not fucking her. I forgot.”
“How about you worry about fucking yourself and we’ll call it even.”
He laughed again and hung up.
I shook my head, tossing the phone onto the table. I heard a noise in the doorway and looked up with a start.
Clair stood there
, leaning against the doorframe. She wore a loose, baggy white t-shirt and a pair of small shorts, almost completely lost under the shirt.
“Didn’t see you there,” I said.
“Who was that?”
“Steven.” I picked up my coffee and sipped it. “My boss.”
“Oh, right.” She shifted a little bit, her eyes glancing over to the coffee maker. “Can I have some?”
“You don’t need to ask,” I said, and got the feeling that she was being awkward around me. Probably because my kiss knocked her head over heels last night and she doesn’t know how to deal with it.
She walked over, got coffee, leaned against the counter.
“What were you two talking about?”
I gave her a look. “You don’t want to know.”
“It was about me. I heard that much.”
I smirked a little. “He was asking me if you were any good in bed.”
She turned red, a little blush coming across her cheeks. “You don’t know whether I am or not,” she said.
“He still asked.”
“God, you’re such an asshole, you know that?” She pushed off the counter and went to storm out.
“Hold on,” I said. “Wait. He told me about a Jalisco safe house he wants to hit.”
“Really?” she asked, lingering in the middle of the kitchen.
“Don’t look so surprised,” I said. “That’s what we do.”
“But you’re going to attack them for me.”
I shook my head. “Not exactly,” I said. “We’ve been warring with them since before you came on the scene, little girl.”
She glared at me. “Don’t call me that.”
“Whatever you say. But look, he wants me to go to the Don about it. Wants me to ask permission.” I leaned forward, putting my coffee mug down, and stared into her eyes. “But I thought I’d ask your permission first.”
“Mine?” Her eyes widened as she took a step back. “Why would you ask me?”
I chewed on that for a moment. “You’re a part of this,” I said. “The Jalisco, they’re going to keep coming hard for you. So we can hit back, kill them first before they get a chance. Or we can try to keep you hidden. If we do make a move, you’ll probably have to come and hide out in the car or some shit. I couldn’t just leave you behind.”