Reckless: A Bad Boyz Anthology

by Anthology

  The one I let get away.

  The one I threw aside.

  God was playing some horrific trick on me by delivering her to me tonight of all nights.

  It had been a long time since I had laid eyes on her, but time didn't matter in this moment because she was just as beautifully captivating as the day I broke her heart.

  I move, ignorant of the sleazy redhead, and start to make my away across the bar. Every step feels leaded, weight as nerves begin to capture me and rightly so.

  I deserve to feel like this because I made our last meeting haunting. I made sure she never healed from it. I made sure I felt the daggers in my heart for years.

  I made myself yearn for this moment so I deserve to feel uneasy.

  "Well, well, well, Amelia Abbiati as I live and breathe."

  At first she doesn't reply. No, instead her breathing falters and it pleases me to know I’m not the only reacting to this moment. She doesn't need to with the look she offers and all over again the year gap between our last meeting and now melt away and I feel my chest struggle to inhale a new breath.

  “Still a breathtaking sight.”

  Round two now begins.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  AMELIA

  “DO YOU KNOW how much of a disgrace you are, Amelia?”

  Yes, I mentally reply, my hand moving closer to the knife by my plate.

  “Do you realize how fucking lucky you are to be sat at my table in the homeland like you still belong?”

  Yes, I mentally say again, this time my fingers inching towards the handle.

  “Salvatore has a death wish sending you here as if I can change you. You’re just like your mother, willing to do whatever you want to do without even looking at the family you’re a part of.” I feel eyes glower at me and I turn to finally look at him. “You’re living one very charmed life, Amelia.” Now his eyes intensify on me. “This isn’t the land of lost hope.”

  “My father seems to think so,” I utter under my breath.

  “Your father did always happen to be a bit of a dreamer. Shame really, I’ve had you here for over two months and I’ve seen no change in you. In actual fact, you’ve digressed. If that was even fucking possible. You’ve not killed a man, nor have you struck a man once. You’ve walked around with a sour face, treated my greatest accomplishment like a sex toy, and treated this place like a holiday destination. Do you know what that shows most, Amelia?”

  “What?” I grind out, finally putting my fingers upon the handle.

  “You’re a spoilt brat,” he says, leering at me. “And do you know what I like to do to spoilt little brats?” he asks, not waiting for my reply. “I like to watch them bend until they break.”

  “You’ll have to try harder.”

  “Oh, I will because, if I’m honest, Amelia, I’m very much enjoying your stay here.” He gives me a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes and yet he looks at me with careful consideration. “I know I can try every tactic under this glorious Italian sun, but ultimately, my best move would be to involve Zane Maverick.”

  My eyes widen involuntarily at the threat.

  “See,” Alberto states. “Even after two months of heartbreak hell, you’re still quick to react, still prepared to defend the man who broke you to your knees. That boy left a mark so deeply embedded you stand no hope of being more than this weak, lovesick morsel he created!” He continues to drill into me, burrowing his rants further into my brain. “I wouldn’t mind taking you back to America just so I could show you how you kill a man like him. I’d force you to watch what you’ve lost and make you realize what you’re becoming. You can’t be trusted to play the game anymore, so maybe someone with a little more balls should do it for you. Show you how to kill a cop and make it messy... I don’t see you ever being able to do it.”

  “Stop!” I bellow, standing up, forgetting about the knife to slam my hands onto the table. “I can still kill the man when I get home!” I threaten, my hands while on the table, now grip the edges.

  “If you go home,” Alberto leers, grinning vindictively with me. “Who says they’ll ever want you home now, Amelia?” he asks me, his eyes glistening as he enjoys this. “No one’s come here for you. Not one of them has called to see where you are, and I don’t believe for a moment they’re at home waging war to get you back.” He laughs at me then, chortling menacingly. “They’re all so much better off without you.”

  “That’s a lie,” I reply, trying to keep some gusto in my voice.

  I know the bond I share with each of my brothers, even down to the sadistic twisted one I have with Gio. Sure, I don’t imagine him wanting me home but the other four, they would fight for me. That’s what Alberto doesn’t realize. We’re a family within a family. It’s what makes us so strong. We know where our real loyalties lie and where our game of charades begins and ends.

  It’s why they supported my second chance with Zane. It’s why they enabled me the freedom. It’s why I’m here.

  “Don’t ever assume you know anything about us,” I growl, and I feel myself harden towards my uncle. “You know very little about the running of the Dio Lavoro outside of Italy. Don’t even begin to fool yourself into thinking you know anything about what my father does back in America. You’d be horrified.”

  “Such a disbelieving little bitch,” Alberto replies, his voice so calm and smooth compared to mine. “I know my brother let you slip through his grasp, letting you have Maverick as a kill.” He pauses only seconds after starting his newest triad. He looks at me with such scrutiny. “Sit your ass back on the chair, Bambina. You aren’t scaring anyone here.”

  I see the amusement ignite in his eyes as I slowly lower myself into my seat, feeling like a deflated balloon that never served a real purpose. My anger doesn’t disperse as easily and as I sit back down I feel it beginning to nest in the pit of my stomach.

  “I told him from day one, adding that bastardo onto your kill list was a bad move, but no, good ole Salvatore Abbiati, wanted to trust you with the ultimate deed. See, he thought what that bastard did to your heart was so scarring, you wouldn’t think twice. I knew otherwise.”

  “You wouldn’t know what it is to love someone,” I mutter, picking up my fork to pick at my lunch. “You see, neither of you would. You never married and my father killed my mother... hardly Lotharios’ are you?”

  “Tori got what was coming for her,” Alberto quips back and he smiles as my face turns into a thunderous expression. “See, the majority of her spawn turned out like her. You had the chance to be great, but now we’re here.”

  “You have no right to talk about my mother,” I snarl, baring my teeth as if I’ve morphed into some feral animal. “She was the reason we stood a chance at being better than you are. She’s the reason I trust my heart above any teaching you or my father can offer.”

  “Trust your heart to set you up for a greater fall,” he comments, musing aloud. “She allowed you to love enough, Amelia that you fell hook, line, and sinker for a man like Zane Maverick. The irony of your mama’s teachings.” Again, he sets his gaze upon me with such malice; I bite my tongue and allow him his next verbal assault. “But the joke doesn’t even stop there. The greatest irony is his name really,” my uncle sneers disgusted, patting his mouth with a napkin as he finishes eating. He starts to laugh, setting the napkin down upon his lap. “Maverick,” he comments, chuckling. “As if he could ever be a rebel of any sort in this life time. He isn’t like the men who serve your father back in America. No, Maverick, he’s a conformist.”

  My hand retreats back towards the knife, my fingertips itching to touch the handle

  “He’s what we all know and hate as the good cop.” Leaning towards me, Alberto executes a sideways smirk. “I’d stop right there, Princess. I’ve seen the killer look ignite in your eyes throughout lunch. Did you really think you could outsmart me?” He leans even closer, his eyes darkening as they narrow upon me. For a second, his gaze drops to my hand wrapped around the knife befo
re looking back at me. “I would do just about anything to scar you, Amelia. That’s how we used to deal with delinquent members... blood or not.”

  “Then why don’t you?” I ask, my lip curling in disgust at him. “Why don’t just get it over with?”

  “Because fortunately for you, your father has entrusted that I don’t do you any harm but that of the good kind. You’re here to learn and get back to the old ways. I’m not in the habit of exacting physical pain.”

  “How big of you,” I remark sarcastically. “Did he make any stipulation that I was meant to keep my hands off of you?”

  Alberto sits back, a massive shit-eating grin on his lips. “Seems my influence is already working.”

  His words sober me up within seconds and I realize how dire this has become. For months I have remained true to the woman that I became whilst tightly wrapped in the love Zane offered, but finally I’m unravelling.

  It’s taken two months, but it’s happening – I’m reverting back to the Amelia Abbiati I was meant to always become in my father’s eyes.

  The emotionless, heartless killer.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ZANE

  IT WAS WHILE I stood under the shower that I realized just what a pathetic bastard I have become.

  Sure, I had lost my girl, ran from my job, but I had chances and I had opportunities. More than most would be left with. Enzo was sure to hate what path I had decided to walk, but he wouldn't need to know until I was directly in front of him. Of course, I wasn't expecting my decision to be an easy feat - it was far from that.

  I was about to intrude in Manhattan's largest crime family to offer myself and infiltrate their entire life.

  Or try my damn hardest.

  I had no idea what this would mean for me or for my relationship with Amelia, but I would die a begging man to find out. I was near the cusp of breaking wholly that I would do anything to build back towards her.

  I had drowned my sorrows for the best part of two months, thinking about every way I could start asking to join the Dio Lavoro. But the idea was soon lost as I reached the bottom of a bottle. It was ludicrous and I was never of full feeling for long enough or of sane mind to form a plan to exact what it was I wanted.

  Until Enzo smacked me down.

  It pummeled sense into my irrational mind and made me stop reaching for my next hit. It’s time to stop, back away and run – full speed – into another killer one.

  The pain I’ve forced upon myself is now one I’ll use to get me where I need to. I want to be in that house, waiting for her to come home so I can have one moment to get on my knees and beg forgiveness. I know Amelia will never take me back that easily, but I need a starting place and being part of her family will offer me that. She won’t be able to ignore me if I’m constantly in the same house as she is, eating at the same meals and being around every single corner she walks.

  I want to be able to take every opportunity to be there, to always be on her mind and not just because I broke her heart, but because I’m trying my damned hardest to get back by her side. I’m a callous man who ran away from who she is by birth. Now, I’m prepared to run directly at her and not walk away until it’s with her, able to give her the perfect life away from any mafia related games.

  Turning the water off, I stand staring at the discolored tiling before me. I barely blink, slow my breathing and revel in my every thought. I allow them to crash upon me in intense washes, swallowing me into their surf. I become consumed with so many memories of Amelia I struggle on what little breathing I am doing. I put a hand out, closing my eyes and torture myself with the image of her crying as she realizes I’m walking away from her for the second time.

  It’s a torture I accept on a daily basis – one I’ll continue to endure until she presents with me with my liberation and repentance.

  Dragging my weary body out of the shower, I grab the towel and quickly wrap it around my waist. As I open the door the steam whooshes past me, freeing itself of the cloistered room. Cool air hits me, prickling my skin as I make a beeline for the disposal cell I’ve been using.

  It’s time.

  I cross the room, the rough carpet beneath my feet reminding me of the squalor I’ve taken to living in. I look at the small black cell and remind myself of everything I’m fighting for. I’ve lost Amelia already, this would be my final chance to have her in my life. I know this isn’t ideal, but I’m done running scared. I want her to have a man who will fight, who will be a man and go after what he wants. I won’t be a man deterred any longer.

  Sitting on the bed for a moment, I feel the weight of the phone in my palm, mulling over what it is I’m about to do. The idea is settled into my mind, but my only route into an underworld is one he won’t agree with it.

  Shaking my head and deciding it’s time to bite the bullet and get it done, I unlock the screen and find his number. My thumb hovers over hitting it. I imagine what will happen if I don’t and I see myself spending the rest of my life sat in this hell hole, empty and full with a void I can’t survive with. Slamming my thumb down onto the number, I throw caution to the wind. As it starts to connect, the dialing tone ringing out, I bring it to my ear and start to bait my breaths.

  “Hello?” I get after the fourth ring, the tone full of caution.

  “Billy,” I breathe, finding my voice to quaver with nerves. “It’s me.”

  “Zane?” he barely manages, whispering my name down the line. I hear the noise around him shift before quietening. “What the fuck, man? Where the hell are you?”

  “I can’t tell you,” I say, more because I’m so ashamed of my current lifestyle choices. “I fucked up. Can we meet?”

  “Er, yeah, of course,” he states, not thought required. “I can get away now, name a place.”

  “Hudson diner. In thirty minutes?”

  “Sure,” he replies. “But make it twenty.”

  The line goes dead and sit completely still for a moment. I can’t believe he even agreed to meet with me after running out on being his partner down at the police department. I should count myself lucky that he’s decided to hear me out because I am sure afterwards he’ll be cursing me until he’s blue in the face.

  I guess I can only go and find out.

  ***

  “You look like shit,” Billy’s voice breaks my reverie as I stare into my coffee.

  “So I keep being told,” I say, grinning lightly as I look up at him. “Ordered our usual,” I tell him, offering a peace offering.

  Having worked with Billy by my side as we worked our way up in the ranks at the Brooklyn police department, we’ve seen each other go through everything. We’ve seen the darkest sides of one another, but we’ve always recovered in this very booth, eating the same meal. Call it whatever you want, but it was the best therapy we had.

  “You really think maple bacon and pancakes are going to make up for it?”

  “I asked them to make your favorite whiskey tea,” I say, shrugging as he drops down into the booth. “Guessed it wouldn’t solve everything, but it’s a start.”

  “No, a start would be a fucking explanation,” he remarks, stopping to seat directly opposite me. “I know the shooting was brutal and everything with Amelia was fucked up but you ran, man. What was up with that?”

  Just him mentioning the shooting causes my heart to stall its rhythmic beating. For a moment, I remember back to a few short months ago when both Billy and I were treated as expendables to the goons trying to appease the Abbiati leader. I was Amelia’s hit, no one else’s, but some didn’t see it like that. We were disposable to them because I was an issue. It makes pledging to the Dio Lavoro all the more appeasing – what better than to be a ghost knocking at their door.

  “It’s called being a target.” As I speak I sit up, leaning across the table to make the privacy of this conversation more noticeable. “You’re on his side, you must have known the bounty over my head, and if you did you could’ve warned me.”

  I watch Billy’s face
fall, he sits, deliberating the facts, and he starts to shake his head, looking ashamed of himself. I knew he would know, why wouldn’t he? He works for Salvatore Abbiati as his very own mole in the local police department.

  “Were you ever going to tell me?” I ask, daring to know the extent of the betrayal.

  “I assumed Amelia would...”

  “She did,” I reply, bitterly. “And to make it worse, she continued to remind me even after I broke her heart. After everything, after catching her and giving her all sorts of hopeful ideals, I threw her aside and to make matters tens time worse, the woman I broke saved me. I wouldn’t be alive without her.”

  “What’s the plan then?” he asks, rhetorically. “You’re going to wait in the shadows for her homecoming?”

  I snigger, sitting back to rub my jaw. It’s as I focus on Billy I realize he looks horrified at my reaction. It makes this moment even more hilarious to know he’s pegging all the details together without much from me, but I cannot keep the words on lockdown. I goad the moment with sheer delight.

  “Who said I’d be in the shadows?” I ask, cocking a brow, grinning wickedly.

  “No,” he manages in disbelief.

  “Oh yeah,” I reply, almost feeling smug about my game plan. “By the time Amelia hits back onto American soil, I will be such a part of her life that she won’t be able to ignore me.”

  “Are you a complete fucking moron?” Billy suddenly asks, anger roaring to life in his voice. “No, don’t answer that!” His throws his hands into his head, looking like he’s about to hyperventilate. “Fuck, Zane!” he bellows and then calms, remembering we’re in public. “What is going on in that head of yours? Because you’re making some seriously fucked up decisions right now. Salvatore will shoot you at sunrise and feed you up to everyone for dinner.”

  “Not necessarily.”

  “Yes necessarily,” he replies, squashing my thoughts. As a dirty cop, affiliated with the Abbiatis, I should’ve known he’d fight. “You know full well who Amelia is and what she comes from yet here you are putting yourself into the lion’s den. This isn’t a spot of sparring... they want you dead, Zane. You’re worth a small mint to them.”