by Amy Rachiele
Anya’s head shakes. “I can’t do that. It’s too much.”
“Nothing is too much.” I take the bag from her and walk to a line of containers with different colored hard candies. I walk up to the lever and let the candy fall and move down the aisle, putting a little bit of each in her bag. The bag fills quickly.
“Carlo, I don’t need all of that.” I grab a red twist tie and spin the bag tying if off. I hand it to her.
“Of course you do.” I rip another bag off a roll and start on the chocolate.
“What are you doing?” Anya’s eyes are wide.
A clerk approaches us. “Would you like a basket?”
“Sure, thanks.” The woman hands it to Anya. I continue loading up on a little bit of all the selections. “Can you take some of those large assorted packages to the front desk?” I request.
“How many?”
“One of each kind.”
“Carlo… really this isn’t necessary.”
“Yes, it is. My Pop used to take Alex, Clarissa, and I here when we were kids. We would get so much, at night we made ourselves sick. We would spread it out all over the kitchen table in Pop’s suite and eat until we were green.”
“Your father loves you very much, doesn’t he?”
“I love him too.”
Anya tears up, and I realize why when she begins to talk about her own mother.
“My mother would bake cookies occasionally at the compound. Everything would have to be shared so I would get one like everyone else but she would hide extras in her apron. At night, while I was in bed, she would give them to me. It was such a treat that it became a ritual and I waited for it all day.”
I turn to face her, taking the filled basket that must be getting heavy.
“Stay with me, and you can have cookies every day.”
Anya stares at me directly never letting her gaze drop.
“I wasn’t planning on leaving… I have a job, remember.”
“You stay with me, and you don’t even have to work if you don’t want to.” My words shock her. I brush my fingers across her cheek. I will never grow tired of looking at her.
“I like working with Jessie.”
I laugh. “You have to be the first person that has ever said that.”
My mirth dies. “You have a family with us, Anya. Never forget it.”
The cashier helps us carry the packages to the car. I load them in the back and then slam the hatch on the SUV.
“I’m glad I took a big car and not Pop’s,” I mutter.
I slip a twenty to the cashier who helped us and open the passenger door for Anya. She slips in, ducking her head to the side in a gesture of shy gratitude.
“Thank you.”
I lean into the car, meeting her face, and I kiss her, deeply ashamed of myself for wanting to take her right on the front seat of the car in public.
A text rumbles from my pocket. I curse inwardly. I release Anya from the front seat and step away further into the parking lot to glance at it.
Priest was snatched during arrest. APB is out.
What the fuck!
I scroll through my contacts, stabbing Mike’s personal cell phone.
“What happened?” I roar into the phone.
“Eh, Carlo… Caesar’s guys jumped the arresting officers and took him. My hands are tied.”
My eyebrows furrow. Why the hell would Caesar risk a run-in with the cops to get to Priest?
“Carlo?”
“I’m here,” I assure Mike. “I’m thinking.”
“This has fucked this whole operation up.” Mike is pissed too.
“Where would Caesar take him?”
“I’ll find out.”
I end the call and jump in the driver’s seat.
“What’s wrong?” Anya asks, fear in her tone.
“Nothing you have to worry about!” I yell at her. She shrinks back in her seat. I slam my fist against the wheel. I clench my fists trying to calm the fuck down. My fury is ruling me. I kick at the plastic cup holder at the base of the driver’s door. “Fucking shit!” I shout. I glance at Anya plastered against her door in a submissive crouch.
“Anya!” I yell it because I can’t help it. My temper has snapped. “I can be pissed off, fucking madder than shit, but you have to remember two things!” I throw two fingers up. “I will never hurt you and I still love you no matter what!”
Her head nods. I can tell she is scared shitless. I tear out of the parking lot and back to the casino.
*****
Anya is sleeping and I go down to the kitchen, which is lifeless at this time of night. My sleep patterns were getting better having Anya in my bed, but this whole Priest thing has me awake. I’m going down to the firing range.
I take a cup from the glass door cupboard. I rest it and my cell phone on the counter. The coffee pot is cleaned and ready for the morning but I am craving a cup. I chastise myself for having caffeine when I can’t sleep. I might as well take a cup to Gilly too, who is watching the monitors. Even from this distance, I can hear one of the slots going off. Some gambler must have won a jackpot at three a.m. I shake my head, actually happy for anyone who is having a better night than me.
My phone vibrates.
“Hey, I was just coming down with a cup—”
“Kitchen door!” Gilly bellows into the phone. “There’s another one, laying against the door.”
“Scan the area, anyone else?”
“I don’t see anyone.”
“Keep checking.”
I creep to the door, keeping Gilly on the phone. “I’m right here,” I let him know.
I use my hip to press on the bar that opens the door. I give it a small shove. The light from the flood above lights up a blue robe. Shit! Did we miss one when we raided the compound? Carefully, my eyes dart around, probing the area for any sign of trouble. Cold fingers wrap around my ankle. I grip the gun in my waistband and point it at the ground.
“She was mine,” Priest rasps. His face is bloodied and his robe is soaked in red around his middle. He is bleeding out.
“She belongs only to herself,” I respond, my voice thick with vehemence.
I do what I should have done at the beginning. I raise my gun, knowing this is the answer, and shoot him in the face. Blood splatters onto my jeans, the door, and the sidewalk.
“Carlo!” Gilly yells my name.
My tone goes neutral. “Destroy the surveillance feed,” I order. “Then turn it off completely for two hours.”
I slam the door shut and walk away. I ride the elevator, going to my father’s suite.
I knock on his door. After a few moments, his door cracks open. It is apparent that I woke him from a deep sleep.
“Pop, you need to call the cleaner.” My voice is neutral.
He wipes the sleep from his eyes. “Who did you do?”
“Priest. He is by the back door to the main kitchen.”
He nods.
“Did you advise Gilly?”
“Yeah, he knows. He’ll turn everything off.”
“You had to, son. Caesar offered him to the Campuonos as an exchange for his life.” He rubs the sleep from his eyes. “Frank didn’t want to hear it, of course. The contract is still out on Caesar.”
Fucking prick! Why don’t those fuckers stay in their own corners?
“Go clean yourself up then go to bed.”
“Yes, Pop.”
I tread as quietly as I can into my apartment. I don’t go to the bedroom bathroom; I use the one near the living room. I slip my jeans down, dropping them to the floor, and blood smears on the tile. I strip down to nothing and bunch my clothes into a ball. In my kitchen, I take a trash bag and dump them in. After showering, I spray bleach cleaner and wipe all of the floor with a towel, getting rid of the crimson stains. I toss that in the bag with my clothes. I tie it, getting it ready for the incinerator in the basement. A smart Caesar would be on a plane out of here. He can’t be that stupid. The contract on him is going
to bring a good chunk of change to whoever gets him. I put him and dead Priest out of my head. What’s done is done. I regret nothing other than the fact I should’ve done it sooner.
There is very little light coming from my bedroom as I walk in naked after cleaning the blood off my body. Anya left the bathroom light on with the door slightly ajar. The beam illuminates her body as she sleeps curled on her side in my bed. I would do anything for her. It is going to hurt her if she finds out I killed Priest. She can’t hide the fact that in a twisted way she cares about him. Digging up Priest’s father was her way of coping and feeling restitution for an act or happenstance that wasn’t her fault. Sometimes we just have to live with it. There is no going back, only forward. She’ll get there.
I slip under the covers and nestle in next to her. I run my hand across her hip settling it there, and I fall into a deep sleep.
Chapter 28
Anya
The hard body of Carlo is behind me when I wake to sunlight streaming in from the windows. I flip over to wrap myself up in him. He smells freshly showered and I rub my nose over his neck, drinking him in. His hand moves, trailing across my sensitive skin. I am hyperaware of him. Wanting to initiate sex is wonderful. I’m happy to be in the same bed as Carlo. I used to lie in wait for what was coming with Priest. He would take me and I would submit. I hated myself for allowing it. The tantrum that would ensue if I didn’t was worse than giving in for the short time I needed to. But this, it is so different.
His eyes are closed while he runs his fingers all over me. I hope that this is what I think is going to happen. Carlo trails all the way down to between my legs, rubbing gently, and I can’t help buck my hips at the sensation. My body responds to him on an emotional and physical level. A completeness overcomes me. He cages me beneath him and enters. It is pure ecstasy.
*****
The kitchen is winding down after a long day of Jessie yelling and meal after meal going out the door into the restaurant dining room. It has been a week since the compound was burned down. When I think about it sometimes it seems like yesterday and other times it is like it happened years ago. I worry about the members, but when I ask Doc Howie how they are, the response is always the same. “They’re doing well.”
It’s Friday night, and the line cooks and staff have gone their separate ways. Jessie will be back later to prepare the appetizer trays for the club. I reach into the trash can and lift the white bag out. I slip the ties from the holders and seal the bag. It is a great feeling to put in a hard day’s work, not for anyone else, or because someone told me, but because I chose to.
I drag the trash toward the alley door and put a wooden spoon to jam the door open. It’s nighttime and I have to be fast because I’ve been told not to leave the casino. I thrust thoughts of where they put Simon’s body to be found down into the lowest part of my mind and concentrate on my task.
The bag is heavy but I don’t want it to rip on the ground before I make it to the dumpster. Using all of my strength, I heave it up a few inches and wobble with the bag to my destination. I can smell the stench of the rotting food steps before I make it to the green monster dotted with graffiti.
Already, club-goers are lining up to spend the evening thrashing their bodies together at Club Bellissima. Someday, I would love to go to the club as a guest. I am not ready though. I can see the draw and why it would be fun, but right now I can’t handle all of the people so close together and the loud music.
“Anya!” My name is yelled from the door to the kitchen. “What are you doing?!” Julius is mad. Even with only the overhead floodlights and his voice, I can tell he is angry. I flip the lid as fast as I can and shove the bag inside. At a quick pace, I hurry toward him.
“You know we have cameras,” he chastises. “Get your butt in here!”
“Coming!” I yell back.
In my peripheral vision, something in the shadows moves. My head begins to turn and in what seems like slow motion, a hand reaches out, snagging my hair. I yell out in pain as the waves of my tresses are wrapped and pulled. Beefy fingers curl around my upper arm yanking me, taking me. I scream as I am hauled into a vacant shop.
“Anya!” I hear my name shouted. It is getting closer. It is dark and I can’t make out who my captor is. My panic is electric prickles on my neck and tears well in my eyes. I stumble and am dragged through the blackness. A small gleam of light is coming from a door up ahead. I am thrust through and shoved into a car. It screeches away and I take everything in. The car is long and the seats are arranged in all different directions—a limousine. Sitting directly in front of me, a smirk lining his lips, is Caesar.
“You’re a tough girl to get my hands on.” He smiles. “Patience is a virtue. Wouldn’t you say?”
I lunge for the door handle but a hand snaps out, stopping me. “Don’t bother, Tweedy won’t let you go.”
I face my assailant. I’ve seen him before, at the street corner with the prostitutes.
“What do you want?” I ask, voice clogged.
“Carlo’s head on a platter.”
I shrink back at the grotesque image, surprise widening my eyes.
I study the vehicle, looking for a way out.
“Aren’t you going to ask me why?” He rubs the back of his hand down my cheek. “You are a sweet, innocent pretty little thing.” He stresses the word thing. “You’ve been passed around a lot though: Carlo, Priest, Priest’s father.” His words slap me in the face—calling me a whore.
“I don’t need to ask.” I look straight into his soul, staring into his eyes. “I know what you are.”
“And what is that, sweet thing?”
“Nuts.”
Caesar bursts out laughing. I can tell it is fake. He is afraid, of what I am not sure. Definitely, there is an aura surrounding him of intense fear no matter what he wants me to believe on the outside or how he wants to intimidate me.
“Here they are,” comments Tweedy, who has said absolutely nothing this entire time.
I spin in my seat and see two black SUVs gaining on us.
Carlo! He shouldn’t be doing this, risking his life for me.
“He’d come. Of that I had no doubt.” Caesar scans my body and I cringe. He has seen me naked before and the thought of what was done to me while unconscious has crossed my mind but I choose to suppress it. I can’t change it. Sometimes you just have to live with it.
The car spins around a corner and my body is thrown up against Tweedy. He rights me and his touch is more gentle than it should be for an abduction. I glance up at him through the border of my sight and he has avoided meeting my gaze this whole time. I surmise he doesn’t approve of this. My instincts tell me so.
The car loops sharply again and outside I notice the secluded, desolate part of the city on the other side of the windows. A final swipe of the car is so violent it sends me hurtling against the door, smashing my arm. I rub it as we come to a full stop.
“Now what?” Tweedy asks.
“Let him come to me.” A large black gun materializes in Caesar’s lap.
He pegged it right. Carlo gets out of the vehicle, his stride confident and angry. Alex and Julius are stationed behind their opened doors. Some other men I have never seen before are doing the same. I want to scream for Carlo to get back. This is all my fault. Caesar is going to shoot him.
I lunge for the door, trying the window button. Tweedy’s big hands hold me back and pull me to him. My size and weight are nothing to him.
Tink...tink... Carlo raps on the glass of the window with the barrel of his handgun. Caesar lowers his window a fraction. Immediately, the nose of the gun points right at Caesar’s face.
“You wouldn’t want the precious cargo in this vehicle harmed, would you?”
“You are a marked man. Why the fuck aren’t you in a fucking foreign country? You stupid son of a bitch!”
“I thought we could talk.”
Carlo tries to stay calm. The windows are tinted but his eyes are drilling
. He is searching for me. Carlo lowers his weapon and takes a few steps back. He raises his hand to everyone at the vehicles.
Caesar grabs my arm and hauls me to him and stuffs the end of his gun to my temple. Carlo’s face morphs into a vengeance that rivals anything I had ever seen on Priest’s face. I stumble out of the car roughly held by Caesar. The skin on my arm is twisting with a sting.
I mouth “Sorry” to Carlo when our eyes meet.
“Let’s move this inside,” Caesar says, dragging me.
Tweedy is behind Caesar and me.
“After you,” Caesar tells Carlo. With a nod in the direction of Alex, Carlo signals him to follow.
I stagger keeping up with Caesar. Alex’s eyes are glued to me. Carlo’s are watching every move Tweedy and Caesar make.
Inside, there are some old wooden, slatted boxes. Caesar forces me down to sit on one and then replaces the end of his gun to the side of my head. I flinch at the cold steel on my flesh. I hate him. The man with the gun to my head watched while I was beaten...twice. He upset the entire rhythm of the Anointed Heavens. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had a hand in killing Simon. I blamed Priest but I doubt he acted alone.
“Ricco!” Caesar calls out. A wiry, scared man comes out of the gloomy depths of this abandoned place dragging a large piece of plastic. He is struggling with it, his nose wrinkled. A yellowish brown guck oozes out of the sides. My stomach churns when a putrid smell hits me. “Dammit, he is starting to defrost.” Caesar looks down at me. “These things get messy, honey. Very messy.” My eyes shoot to Carlo and this is another time that I cannot read him.
“Fucking shit!” Alex covers his nose with his sleeve, a gun in his other hand.
“Ricco.” Caesar says it like an order and the man begins to uncover the thing he was dragging. He is breathing through his mouth and his face is twisted in disgust.
I stand traumatized. I cover my nose too and begin to cry. A blue robe stained brown and expensive men’s loafers are peeking out from under. Caesar uses the palm of his hand to force me back down into a sitting position.