Breathless & Bloodstained (The Chicago War #4)

by Bethany-Kris

  “Where’s Mom?” Alessa asked.

  Her question brought Tommas from his thoughts with a bang.

  Peter frowned, avoiding his daughter’s gaze. “She stayed behind. She was trying to convince Joel to come, show face, and make an effort. He seemed like he might before I left. Sara said if he didn’t come, that she would just take her car, otherwise, she would drive over with him.”

  Tommas’ throat tightened to the point he couldn’t breathe.

  Shit.

  Abriella didn’t look pleased. “We could do without Joel, Dad.”

  “Maybe, but you know how your mother is. She loves him even if he acts like he despises her. He’s her son. Let your mother try. It makes her sad, but if she doesn’t do something with Joel, it makes her feel even worse.”

  “Yeah,” Alessa said softly. “We know, Dad.”

  Tommas’ chest suddenly felt like someone had placed a heavy weight down on it. He slipped away from the guests and the party, making a beeline straight for the back of the restaurant. Taking Joel out was one thing, but Sara Trentini was quite another. She was an innocent, and nothing more.

  It would still be a clean hit.

  Joel would still die, likely.

  Tommas would still get both the boss’s seat, and his lover.

  But at what price?

  Her trust?

  Her mother?

  Her happiness?

  Tommas couldn’t do that.

  He just pushed the back exit door open as the cell phone in his pocket dinged. That was Nate’s sign. His first text was to say he had the hit in progress because he had Joel in a good spot. The second would be to say the job was done.

  Pulling the phone out, Tommas dialed his enforcer’s number. He put the phone to his ear, rested his forehead to the outside brick wall, and listened to it ring.

  Over and over.

  It kept ringing.

  Tommas knew it wasn’t Nate’s fault.

  The man was just doing what he’d been told.

  Finally, the call picked up. It was the answering machine. Tommas’ heart dropped. This was not what he wanted to happen. This was not how it was supposed to go down. There was a very good chance his lover’s mother was inside the same vehicle as Joel that was about to be lit up in a random drive-by shooting.

  One that he’d ordered.

  One that he planned to make sure this sort of thing wouldn’t happen.

  No mistakes.

  Good, clean, and over before anyone knew what happened.

  How would he tell Abriella?

  How could he apologize for this?

  “Nate’s phone, get it out and I’ll get back to you,” the enforcer’s answering machine said.

  Abriella pushed open the exit door at the same time the message finished and a beep sounded. Tommas met his girl’s concerned gaze. She must have seen him rush out of the restaurant, and when she got the chance without being noticed, followed him.

  I’m sorry, he wanted to say.

  I love you, Ella.

  “Don’t do it,” Tommas said into the phone, hoping Nate would see the message and take it before doing the hit. It wasn’t likely. “Nate, call it off, man. Please.”

  Abriella’s brow furrowed as she held the door open. “Tommy?”

  He hung up the phone, ignored Abriella’s outstretched hand reaching for him, and dialed the phone again.

  The enforcer still didn’t pick up.

  “Tommas, what’s wrong?” Abriella asked gently.

  I’m so sorry, baby.

  He met her gaze, unsure and cold in his heart.

  Colder than he’d ever been. Frozen like ice because he was about to lose the one thing he wanted more than anything else in the world all because of one mistake.

  Abriella wouldn’t understand.

  This wouldn’t be forgiven.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Something awful and terrible welled in Abriella’s stomach as she watched Tommas’ face fall from the usual confident mask he wore to the expression of a heartbroken, guilty man.

  “Tommy?” she asked in a whisper. “What happened?”

  His mouth opened to speak as he glanced down at his phone and then back at her. No words came out. He didn’t even look like he was breathing. His hand clenched so tightly around his phone that his knuckles had turned an ashy white from the pressure. He shoved the phone into his jacket pocket.

  The sickness rolling in Abriella’s middle only got worse and picked up speed until bile was rising in her throat.

  “I fucked up,” he finally said.

  His words came out so quiet that she barely heard them.

  “I’m sure whatever it is can be fixed, right?” she asked.

  Tommas shook his head. “No, baby. Not this time.”

  Abriella swallowed hard, her chest tightening in reaction to his agonized tone. Tommas rarely showed emotion for anyone outside of the people he cared for. That list was short. She knew that without a doubt, she was at the top. His family and very few friends came after her. Even still, Tommas was the kind of man who could hide whatever he needed to when the situation called for it.

  Why couldn’t he do that now?

  “I need you to tell me what happened, Tommas,” Abriella said softly.

  “I’m so sorry,” was all he managed to say.

  Abriella’s heart cracked.

  It wasn’t from her own unknown pain, caused by something she didn’t understand, but because of the wetness gathering in her lover’s eyes. Tommas never cried. Not once had Abriella ever been privy to him in that kind of state.

  It ached.

  It made her sick.

  It was all wrong.

  “Don’t do that,” Abriella said, stepping closer to him. She immediately reached for his face and wiped the wetness away. The moment she touched his tears, Tommas tried to jerk away from her like he’d only realized at that moment he was crying. Abriella refused to let him go. She held him tighter, letting her fingernails dig into his jaw and forcing him to stare her in the eyes. “Don’t do that, please. It can be fixed, right? Whatever happened, you can fix it. You always make it better, Tommy.”

  He shook his head again, a ragged exhale escaping his lips. “I don’t think so.”

  “Nothing is unfixable—”

  “This wasn’t supposed to happen,” Tommas interrupted. “I had it all accounted for, Ella. Every. Fucking. Step. This was the end, baby. Of everything. Done. No more fighting. No more bloodshed. No more war. Just you and me like it was always supposed to be. I had his every move down!”

  Abriella flinched at the sudden rage in his tone. “Joel?”

  Tommas nodded. “I’ve worked for two weeks to make sure this went down perfectly. I didn’t want mistakes. I needed it to be clean. It should have been good. Just him, he’d be the last one to go in this fucking war. That’s all we needed, Ella. I am so sorry.”

  A painful, swift fissure began to tear over Abriella’s heart and soul. It was nothing like anything she had felt before. Abriella was not a stupid woman. She had never been a fool to the games of the men surrounding her.

  She knew how they played.

  She could play them, too.

  Never once had she thought Tommas would back off from Joel. Abriella knew that her lover would make a move eventually, one that would permanently end the fighting and the bloodshed.

  “Was it going down today?” she asked. “Whatever you were going to do to Joel, was it going to happen today?”

  “Yes,” Tommas admitted.

  Abriella physically recoiled at what that might mean. Her father’s words about her mother staying behind and likely coming with Joel in his vehicle rang heavily in the back of her mind. Her stomach twisted in sickness and disbelief. A numbness settled in her limbs.

  Tommas grabbed hard to Abriella’s wrists, keeping her locked in place. “I didn’t know about Sara until five minutes ago, baby. I swear to God, Ella, I didn’t. I never would have—”

  “St
op,” she breathed.

  Abriella needed space. She needed to take in more air than her lungs were giving. Her body was cemented in place, but her mind felt a million miles away.

  Nothing was right.

  Everything seemed foul and bad.

  “I tried,” Tommas mumbled, holding onto her tight enough for it to hurt. Abriella didn’t mind. It kept her from falling on the ground. “I tried to stop it the moment I thought there was chance someone else might be with him. It’s not for sure, Ella. He might be alone.”

  “But he might not be.”

  “He might not be.”

  “My mom …”

  “I tried,” Tommas repeated weakly.

  Abriella couldn’t control the reaction. It bubbled up too fast for her to try and stop it. She jerked away from Tommas and spun on her heel in just enough time to bend over and spill the contents of her stomach on the ground. In her heartache and pain, she gagged on vomit and the sudden flood of tears.

  No.

  No, no, no.

  This was not how it was supposed to be.

  Her fingernails cut into her palms, making her skin break and bleed. She shook with the force of her sobs as familiar, strong arms circled her middle and held strong.

  Tommas pressed his face to the middle of her back and whispered his apologies over and over. Abriella believed him. Every word he spoke was coated heavily in his pain and his honest grief for her agony. She had seen the regret in his tears and the confusion in his earlier words.

  She knew he hadn’t meant for this to happen.

  It didn’t help.

  She wanted it to.

  God, she needed it to.

  “I’m sorry,” Tommas said, holding her tighter. “I’m so sorry, baby. I wanted it to be over. I need it to be over for you and for me. Please, Ella, please don’t hate me for this. I love you more than anything. Don’t you understand? I’d rather be dead than without you. I tried to fix it. Please, Ella.”

  She still believed him.

  She still loved him.

  Abriella just couldn’t bring forth enough emotion through the haze of her grief and numbness to tell him. Wiping the sickness from the mouth with the sleeve of her dress, Abriella stood. She turned to face her lover, wiped the mess of tears from his face, and took a breath.

  “Stop,” she said quietly.

  Tommas sucked in a hard breath. “Okay.”

  “I can’t … I can’t do this right now. And neither can you. Stop it, Tommas.”

  His shoulders stiffened and his back straightened. “You’re right.”

  “This is not about us today. That party in there is not about the Outfit. It is the one day my sister has to feel happy and good about her baby. I can’t take that away from her.”

  He reached out to stroke her cheek, but Abriella moved out of his way. She couldn’t let him touch her. If she did, then the sudden, strange calmness she had managed to gain would shatter again. She would break and crumble. Her heart would tear back open.

  She needed to be okay for just a little while longer.

  For her father.

  For Alessa.

  For herself.

  “Ella—”

  Abriella held out a hand. “Don’t.”

  Tommas cringed like she had slapped him. “I’m sorry.”

  “I … I need to go back to my sister,” she said.

  A buzz in Tommas’ pocket broke their staring contest.

  Tommas dropped his gaze, but didn’t reach for the device.

  Another splintering crack settled across Abriella’s heart.

  “Answer it, Tommas,” Abriella said.

  He didn’t.

  “I don’t need to,” he said softly.

  “Why not?”

  Tommas didn’t answer. Abriella didn’t need him to. She knew what the call likely meant. The job was done.

  Without a word, Abriella spun on her heel, opened the restaurant door, and left Tommas behind.

  Control.

  She needed to keep it.

  If only for a few more minutes …

  Abriella ignored the enforcer sitting outside of her brother’s hospital room. She knocked on the door a second before pushing it open. Joel sat on the edge of his bed, dressed in casual clothes with a black leather bag resting on the floor between his feet.

  Setting the water bottle in his hand on the bedside table, Joel turned to Abriella with a blank expression. “Managed to make your way over, did you?”

  Abriella didn’t bother giving him a response to that statement. Joel didn’t deserve it, frankly. He’d been in the hospital for nearly a week since the shooting that took their mother’s life, caused Darryl to wreck the car he was driving, and almost took Joel’s life as well.

  The problem was, Joel showed no emotion.

  He didn’t ask about their mother after being told she had been killed by a gunshot to the head. He didn’t seem to care at all that her life had been forfeited for his. Joel never had cared a damn ounce for the woman who gave him his very breath.

  Abriella hurt every day. Her grief was constant and near unbearable. Sometimes, she found herself staring at a wall, unable to breathe or think, and an awful lump had welled in her throat. She found her father alone and crying more times than she cared to count. She’d comforted her sister in Alessa’s pain.

  All the while, she planned her mother’s funeral. She made the arrangements necessary with the undertaker, the church, and the graveyard. She designed the headstone of a marble angel resting in a deep sleep with her mother’s name engraved on the front. She picked the plot, wrote the check, and chose which dress would be the final one her mother ever wore.

  Abriella never cried. She choked on her agony, swallowed it back, and kept moving because she didn’t have a fucking choice.

  Who helped her?

  No one.

  So no, Abriella had no fucks to give for Joel or the broken rib he suffered, the concussion he had, or the bullet he took to the left side that narrowly missed his heart.

  She cared nothing for him.

  Abriella would give anything she had, everything that was hers, if she could turn back time and make her brother die instead of their mother.

  Whatever God would take, she would hand over.

  “Darryl is outside with the car,” Abriella finally said. “If you’re ready, then he is.”

  “Why are you here then?” Joel asked.

  Abriella didn’t want to answer him. Joel deserved no explanations as to what she had been doing this last week while he took his little time out from the rest of the world.

  “Abriella,” her brother said, “I asked you a fucking question.”

  “I had to stop at the flower shop. Some last minute thing came up with the arrangements for Mom’s funeral. They wanted to make sure it was okay.”

  “So?”

  That one word right there, so uncaring, cold, and distant, was why Abriella hated the very breath her brother was still capable of breathing.

  No, she wasn’t happy with Tommas. She was angry over his error that cost her someone she loved. She was mad that the mistake happened at all.

  More than anything, she wished his plan hadn’t failed. She wished that she was burying her brother tomorrow and not her mother. Abriella couldn’t find it in herself to feel guilty for those desires.

  “So, I’m not allowed to go anywhere without my babysitter,” Abriella said, letting the sarcasm haunt her voice. “And since the funeral is tomorrow, I needed to give my okay today. Darryl had to come here to get you. He decided to kill two birds with one stone.”

  Joel pushed up from the bed. “Wonderful. Everything is taken care of then?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Sara’s arrangements. That’s all done?”

  “Yes.”

  Abriella practically had to force the answer out.

  “Is my suit dry-cleaned?” Joel asked.

  “Waiting in your office.”

  Joel picked his ba
g up from the floor, ripped the hospital bracelet off his wrist, and then tossed the discarded piece of plastic on the bed. “Great. I’m ready.”

  The closer he came to Abriella, the more she wanted to rip his fucking throat out. Her anger and sorrow was damned excruciating, but she was holding it in. She hid it well enough to manage day by day.

  Abriella was ready to fucking blow.

  Maybe she should blame Tommas.

  Maybe it was all his fault.

  But she hated Joel far more.

  Abriella hated her brother for his untrue ways, his manipulations, and his games in the war. She despised the fact that Joel had stained his hands with almost every death over the last few months in one way or another. She detested his lack of empathy, his greed for nothing more than power, and his selfishness.

  He made her sick.

  This time, just by fucking surviving, Joel had pushed Abriella a little too far.

  “What are you waiting for?” Joel asked.

  Abriella put her mask back on, letting her brother believe that she was just another one of his compliant little sheep. “Nothing. Let’s go.”

  For a mid-April day, the rain held off for Sara’s funeral. Abriella found herself silently grateful that the sun was able to peek through gray clouds and color up the sky as her mother’s casket was lowered into the ground. Her mother deserved a little beauty for her final resting place. Something more than wet dirt and pretty flowers.

  Sara was everything that Abriella had never wanted to be. Her mother had made mistakes. She’d been called a whore for most of her life. Her past transgressions had been held over her head as the people they called family whispered behind her back. She was shunned, shamed, and mocked.

  Unfortunately, those were the things that some people would remember about Sara Trentini before anything else.

  Abriella, on the other hand, would remember a strong, enduring woman who cared and loved far more than should have been possible. A woman who offered forgiveness and friendship to those who didn’t deserve it. A kind soul who gave life to three children, and despite how they had come to be, she never stopped loving them.

  She would remember her mother. That woman … that imperfect, tender, devoted woman … was who Abriella wanted to remember.