by SE Chardou
The rape, the beatings, the abortions—they weren’t his fault. Sure, he could have stopped it all but he would have thrown the case of a lifetime away he planned to hand over to the Feds. Perhaps I was caught in the crossfire but I was a stronger person for everything I’d gone through. I could handle myself, didn’t flinch at bloodshed and knew how to protect La Famiglia. The Italians treasured family above all and though I was only a quarter, it was the most dominant part of my personality.
I turned toward my newfound friend and observed the fitted, black silk suit he wore with a scarlet tie and a pair of dressy Dolce and Gabbana Siena shoes. He matched my outfit without realizing it.
His dark brown hair was definitely bed-head; sex hair while his peaches and cream complexion, and sculpted features—a Heinz 57 mixture I couldn’t quite place—allowed him to appear both alluring and dangerous.
“Tell me . . . what is the plan for tonight?”
Vincent stared at me. “I’m a trusted confidant of the Don and one of his best soldiers but I’m not Leo, Mags. I have no illusions Angelo will leave his empire to me. I’m not married, my sexuality is in question and I murder people with just enough flair to be called a faggot on more than one occasion.” He sighed out loud. “In short, I’m expendable. Although he took me in as one of his own, I’m not his son. Angelo cares more about you than he does me and I’m okay with that. I’m merely here as back up. This is your show, my dear.”
“It shouldn’t be that way, Vincent—”
“Shadow, please . . . no one calls me Vincent.”
“Fine, I’ll call you Shadow if you call me Mags because no one addresses me as Magnolia.”
“Except for the great Don?”
I nodded once. “Angelo is an exception with everything, isn’t he?”
The rest of the ride to Oasis was quiet although the silence comforted me. The blood flowed through my veins and I couldn’t help to be elated about what I was about to do.
The murder of innocents was abhorrent and wrong.
The murder of murderers was not only righteous but also an evil I could easily justify.
Mila Koslakova could never be considered an innocent—not now and not ever.
I glanced at my new partner again and I hated that pang of sexual attraction I felt toward him. What was it with bi-guys and me lately?
No one could ever question my loyalty to Max.
I would dig a hundred fucking graves for that man, and he held something no other man had truly possessed, not even Edward—my torn, shredded, shattered, and fucking shell-shocked heart. It had been his since he promised to save me all those years ago and it still belonged to him.
However, no matter how much I was in love with him, I wasn’t dead.
Somehow, I realized this was also a secret we would have to discuss with one another because neither of us were the particular type to demand monogamy. We’d seen too much, done too much and fucked too much to ever settle down permanently with each other.
There was only sin Max could ever be guilty of in my book—and mine in his: monogamy was a fucking felony so if he ever fucked anyone else, he better motherfucking tell me. Or there would be hell to pay—not just for the male or female in concern but I would make it my life’s mission to prolong his suffering.
Much, much more than what I planned to unleash on Mila . . . but she was another issue entirely.
I always wondered why the popular saying declared, “Life is a bitch and then you die.” Truth according to Magnolia Reynolds-Abandonato 101: life ain’t no bitch—I am one so I know my type. Life is a motherfucking battlefield—a blitzkrieg of strife, heartache and pain. Only the strong survived and not to toot my own goddamn horn but if anyone was carved out of Darwin’s mold, it was me.
Life was too damn short and no way would I deny my pleasures of the flesh because society deemed there was only one man—or woman—for another. It was bullshit, plain and simple. I loved and lived hard but I would get my sexual satisfaction wherever I saw fit and I dared a motherfuckin’ man to tell me I was wrong in my way of thinking.
“Deep in thought, I see?”
I glanced over at Vincent and smiled though I must have appeared much more predatory than I wanted to come across. “Not really. It’s no secret I hate the bitch I have to murder tonight and although she will experience a prolonged agony, that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t like to get it done and over with as soon as possible.”
“Expected at home?” he questioned in a half-joking, half-serious tone of voice.
“Not by my fiancé . . . although he is sure to ask questions but . . . my aunt. She wants us to have the house in Lake Tahoe ready for when Max returns home from Las Vegas. I don’t know . . . I have no reason to be worried but I am. Koslakov still haunts my dreams. I can’t help but think he’s still there in northern Nevada, waiting for me to return.”
Vincent laughed out loud. “Seriously, you have nothing to worry about where he is concerned. I am not only your co-worker but also your shadow. Until you and Max are reunited, I’m not to leave your side. That also includes when you fly to northern Nevada. The Don has made it harder to get to you than a member of the government. Koslakov has so many people stabbing him in the back, you and Max are the least of his concerns.”
This raised my hackles though not in the way my co-conspirator might have thought. “What do you mean? How many enemies does he have at the moment?”
“What? You mean besides Abandonato and Jackson? Well, the Saints have turned their back on him though they have not said as much out loud. They want him to think he still has a friend in them. It doesn’t make sense for them to draw too much attention to themselves at the moment. Also, there’s Kitaev—”
“He’s dead,” I interrupted dismissively.
Vincent stared back at me for a long time with those disarming blue eyes before he continued, “Yes, the father is dead but I can assure you his son is very much alive. He’s taking over his father’s Bratva—what the Russians refer to as the mafia. As the head of what was his father’s organization, he is angry and pissed off Koslakov still walks free while he knows he was directly responsible for his father’s death.
“In time, he plans to take revenge, and believe me, when it comes to the Russians, it will be ugly and very public. They like to invoke the whole fear of God—though they are godless themselves—and whatnot. It’s a bit over the top but so is most of what they do and how they conduct their lives. They remind me of the old school Mafia Dons. No class. Everything is about the flash and bling. Understatement is not inherently part of their vocabulary.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” I replied as the chauffeur pulled up to Missus Koslakova’s favorite hot spot.
Something didn’t feel right. I knew it deep in my heart. If I followed through with my plans for that night, I could destroy the one man who had always been there for me, even when I wasn’t aware of it. Part of me wanted to feel bad about what I was doing but as an assassin, I wasn’t supposed to have a conscience.
I should have never pitied Mila.
She abandoned one son, and sold the other to a Russian mobster to keep herself in a lifestyle she’d grown accustomed to. She wounded me the last time we were together so why did I feel anything other than a deep and guttural hatred for the woman who had ruined so many lives?
That was an easy question to answer.
Max.
She was his mother after all.
He still loved her so much he couldn’t kill her if he tried. He’d let her go—why, I was unsure of if he knew the same information about her I’d acquired.
I thought about my own parents then. Sophia and Justin “Riggs” Reynolds. If I knew they had done something so completely heinous to change my fiancé’s life, could I have been so forgiving? Yes, I would have.
Despite what I’d been through, I was still alive. It was easy to justify something so awful when I could think about the situation along those lines.
Max knew w
hat I’d suffered; he’d been there the whole time and it only had begun to come back to me in bits and pieces. Through dreams I wished my mind would just erase. I didn’t ever want to think about him being there and knowing what he knew . . . yet he’d bid his time while I’d gone through some years of my life I would have rather forgotten about.
“Are you ready to do this?” Vincent questioned in a low voice, shattering me from my contemplation.
I dipped my head slightly, the only indication I’d heard him.
“Okay, then let’s set the plan in motion.”
The chauffeur got out and opened the door on my side. I stepped out and Vincent immediately walked up to me after he’d gotten out of the SUV.
If I believed in this plan of vengeance so much, why the hell did I feel so bad about what I was about to do? Could I be gaining that ill-conceived notion called a conscience? I’d always had a moral compass—at least I tried to believe that. I knew the difference between right and wrong; when I boarded the plane that day, this plan felt entirely justified.
Now it seemed like a cheap trick to quell the pain of losing my parents but they’d been dead for so very long, did I even deserve a semblance of revenge for their deaths?
How could the murder of Mila hurt anyone other than the man I proclaimed to love with all my heart?
It was a hard emotion to deal with and one I wasn’t used to.
Although I walked with my head held high and smiled as Vincent walked beside me, his left arm casually wrapped around my waist, I felt like I was dying inside. Thorns of bitter remorse wrapped tighter around my heart, tearing me to pieces while at the same time, I tried to absolve myself of the sins I would commit before that night ended.
I had to go through with this plan whether I was ready or not. It was the only way to possibly gain any sort of closure.
Chapter Two
Max
Max sat at the table with all the other head enforcers in the joint criminal enterprise that belonged to both Angelo Abandonato and Raymond Jackson in equal parts. He couldn’t say he was surprised at the amount of bosses and underbosses a criminal enterprise of the magnitude carried but he was quite impressed nonetheless.
He should have been concentrated on the two men who now owned and controlled his life but his mind kept wandering back to Mags. He wondered if she was all right and couldn’t wait until a break was called so he could call her. They hadn’t spoken in a day and he missed her so much.
It was hard to admit to anyone—let alone himself—but spending that much time with just one other human being reminded him that they’d changed each other. He was no longer the lone wolf, left to prey on the innocent alone. He had someone to share his extremely secretive and dysfunctional lifestyle with and that was a wonderful feeling.
However, Max couldn’t spin it and convince himself the way they lived was in any way ordinary. He should have been used to the violence, after all, his whole world was steeped into it so very deeply, he couldn’t imagine living any other way. That didn’t mean he couldn’t see the damage the life did to people, the hardness that he felt for most people and the outright apathy he’d developed for a job no one should ever want to do.
Yes, he killed people for a living and it was a hard road that eventually took its toll. He couldn’t continue down this path forever; he and Mags would eventually need a plan, and an out to this life.
Now that his fiancée had found her family, he knew she would never leave them but that didn’t mean he would be forced to become Angelo and Raymond’s assassin forever. He didn’t believe in God but there had to be a force greater than himself and humans in general. Even if he couldn’t give in to the idea of specific deity, he did have a warped sense of karma and knew he would have to pay for all the sins he’d committed over the last thirty years of his life.
“Earth to Max,” Raymond said in an usually cold voice, startling him out of his contemplation.
“Sorry . . . I was just . . . I don’t know what the fuck I was doin’ but I’ve been paying attention most of the time.” Max gave a nonchalant shrug that made several bosses in the room laugh out loud.
“The whole point of these meetings is to not have a man’s mind wander about pussy, Max.” Leonardo—Angelo’s oldest son—glared at him with glacier blue eyes. “We’ll forgive you for this one transgression because nothing is gonna happen to Mags but Jesus, man, get your head out of your ass.”
Max glared at the man with cool aquamarine eyes. “Listen, Mags is still in danger until arrives in Lake Tahoe. Excuse-fuckin’-me for worrying about my fiancée who is still out there without any protection. I haven’t heard from her since I left New Orleans.”
He turned toward Angelo and Raymond. “I am very sorry about my transgression. I meant no disrespect by it. What do you want me to do to prove my loyalty?”
Angelo and Raymond stared at one another before the Italian replied, “Nothing much. We just need you to take care of a little problem that has surfaced here in Las Vegas. Koslakov’s daughter—the one by your mother—has disappeared from her high priced boarding school, and is now shacking up with Marco Bassi. Unfortunately, he thinks he’s in love for the first time. He’s got ties . . . to the Bassi Mafia, him being my nemesis grandson and all. Surprisingly, he doesn’t have her whoring her ass out on the street or hooked on drugs so it must be ‘love.’ She’s a loose angle—either you turn her into one of our snitches or you put a bullet in her skull.”
“We’re giving you the choice because, technically, she is your half-sister. If she were just a stranger, we would have told you to put a bullet in her. No excuses, questions, or turning back. You understand if you can’t flip her, she’s dead anyway, right?” Raymond used his cigar cutter to trim his Cuban cigar before he lit it with a gold lighter.
Max nodded his head, dipping his chin. “To be honest, I don’t care one way or the other. I don’t know . . . Karina all that well. You do realize we were never raised together? I know her only as Koslakov’s daughter by my mother. Whether she lives or dies has no real bearing on my state of mind. At this point, all I care about is Mags. Shit, maybe I should be honest and say that I don’t give a fuck about another person more than I worry about Mags. Not even my own mother at this point.”
Leo lit a cigarette and dragged lazily before he glared at Max. “That makes you a very dangerous human being, you know that? Am I right? The moment you don’t even care about la vostra famiglia, you would betray anyone—”
“Magnolia is my family. Everyone else . . . I might share blood with them but they have never acted like my family.” Max glared at Leo before his eyes dragged toward Raymond and Angelo. “You know this already so yeah, I’ll go try to straighten out Karina but I won’t promise anything. If she’s a lost cause then I’ll let you know.”
Angelo dipped his head in a show of respect. “I think my other bosses could learn a lot from you, Max. You’re perceptive, sharp, and most of all intelligent. I trust your instincts.”
“The meeting is over.” Raymond stood and pointed at Max. “Can we talk to you before you leave?”
“Yes, of course.” Max stood and walked toward his new bosses.
Angelo waited until the room had cleared before he met Max’s eyes. “Listen, I know you love my niece. I understand what you two have been through together but don’t you ever show that kind of weakness in a room full of sharks. Always keep your loyalties close to your chest. No one should know she is the only way to fatally wound you. She is the first person they will seek out when they need to hurt you the most.”
“I can protect her.” Max’s blue-green orbs stared from Angelo to Raymond. “No one would touch her because I would do anything to protect her. I’d kill every one of these bosses in this room and not think twice about it.”
“Were you serious . . . I mean about not caring about your mother or your half-sister?” Raymond glared at him as if he’d grown a second head. “Does that attitude continue toward your brother and father?”<
br />
“I don’t know Edward or Sean,” Max replied in an apathetic voice. “I don’t hate them or love them. I would like to eventually get to know them because they have never done anything to me but . . . Mila has been a huge part of my life and although I can’t hate her, I don’t know how I would feel about her death. Karina is a non-issue. I didn’t grow up with her so I don’t like or dislike her. She is just . . . there. If she died tomorrow, I wouldn’t lose a night of sleep over her death.”
“Well, you also have a half-sister on your father’s side.” Raymond dragged on his cigar. “Chantal. Her mother was a former Saint slapper but Edward and Sean are fiercely protective over her. If you don’t give a shit about her either, keep it to yourself if you ever want a relationship with those two.”
“I’m human, Raymond.” Max looked at his boss before his eyes turned away. “At this point, they are the only people who can save me. I don’t mean that in a melodramatic way. I am just saying if I don’t try to forge a relationship with them then I can’t live in this shadow world. In order to do that, part of me knows I have to shed my . . . other family. Mila . . . Karina—they are part of a world I can’t have ties to anymore. I’m not being callous but at this point, it would be easier if they were dead rather than being alive.”
“Are you saying you would be willing to pull the trigger?” Angelo glared at him with pale, unreadable blue eyes.
He shook his head. “No, not at this point. I’m tired of the bloodshed to be honest. I don’t know . . . I’ll check out the Karina situation and get back to you. At least I have something to do other than worry about Mags.”
“Understood. Let us know the moment you hear something.”
“Will do, Raymond.” Max began to walk away when Angelo called out his name.
“Yeah?”
“Mags . . . she’s fine. I spoke with her today. She needs a little space—that’s all. Believe me, she’ll call you when she’s ready.”