by Dee Garcia
Gaspard’s library was traditionally decorated in different shades of auburns and golds. It reminded me of those libraries you’d see in an old hotel or a bed and breakfast somewhere out in the countryside. Chestnut floor to ceiling bookcases ran along the walls, minus the one housing various monitors where Gio was already hard at work. I shuffled curiously around the room, running a glove-clad finger along the hard spines of dozens and dozens of books. William Shakespeare, Oscar Wilde, Daphne du Maurier, Charlotte Bronte, Charles Dickens… Those were just a few of the authors I recognized because they, too, lived on the shelves of my family’s library. I could vividly remember padding in there as a kid and finding Daddy sprawled out on the couch, reading late into the night. Oftentimes, I’d crawl into his lap and he’d read to me until I fell asleep, even if it wasn’t the most appropriate bedtime story.
Passing the final bookcase, I smiled at the memory and turned back to my brothers who were scattered about. Alessio was posted up against the door like a guard outside the gates of Buckingham Palace, Matteo was flipping through a book in one of the antique parlor chairs in the center of the room, and Gio was still working his magic on surveillance. As I neared the monitors, I noted empty beer cans, crinkled chip bags, and soiled napkins scattered around on the desk beside some of his tools. Apparently LeRoux’s security detail indulged while on the job.
I scrunched my nose in disgust. “Don’t they know what a garbage can is?”
“Apparently not,” Matteo said, his tone bored. “But you do. Why don't you give them a hand and clean up?”
“Shut up,” I gritted out, flinging a can at his head.
It bounced off and landed on the intricately detailed rug beneath his feet. “What the fuck, Eden?”
“You deserve more than a can to the head. Count your lucky stars that was all I had at my disposal.”
“Yeah, yeah, sure. All bark, no bite.”
I clapped my hands softly. “Bravo, big bro. Glad you aren’t ashamed to accurately describe yourself.”
“What are you trying to say? That I’m a pu—”
“If I have to tell you both to cut the shit one more time, so help me God,” Alessio growled, drowning the room in silence once more.
I’d have protested if the cutting expression on his face wasn’t identical to the one Daddy gave us.
“Aaand,” Gio announced, seizing our attention. Two seconds later, every single monitor shut off in unison and he emerged from underneath the desk. “Done.”
“Impressive, brother. I think that’s been your fastest time thus far,” Alessio praised him.
Gio smiled and packed up his tools without a word. It wasn’t a content smile, though; it was a cocky Scarsi smile, one I knew too well because it’d played across my face many a time too.
Squeezing his shoulder, I trailed toward Alessio at the front of the room. “Are we ready?”
He nodded and held a finger to his lips as he unlocked the door and cracked it open, peeking through to the other side. From the little I could see, it was still dark and eerily silent.
“It’s all clear, however, now is when we have to be most quiet and most alert. If Gaspard had cameras upstairs that Gio happened to disconnect as well, then whatever guards he has on standby are probably awaiting our arrival. According to my source, LeRoux spends a great deal of his time inside his office—“
“And his office is the room directly above us,” Gio said, finishing off what remained of Alessio’s sentence, to which he nodded in agreement.
“Precisely, brother. We need to be prepared for anything and everything.”
“We will be, but we need to move quickly and with weapons drawn. Better to be safe than sorry,” I added, cocking back the slide on one of my handguns.
My brothers followed suit and with one last look exchanged between us, Alessio stepped out into the hall, tipping his head only when he was certain there wasn’t a soul in sight.
We trailed through the house in silence, passing the massive living room, kitchen, and formal dining room along the way to the dual staircase at the front the estate. I hung back behind my brothers to ensure we wouldn’t be blindly ambushed, spinning around every few steps with my gun firmly locked in my grasp. Once we made it to the top of the stairs, we flattened ourselves against the wall and Alessio peeked around the corner, crooking two fingers in silent all clear.
Except it wasn’t all clear…
We made it all of three steps en route to LeRoux’s office when a hoard of ten guards came barreling down the hallway and all hell broke loose. There wasn’t any time to think or to find cover. It was shoot…or die. Subconsciously, I noticed Matteo position himself in front of me while Alessio had retreated to cover Gio, and within thirty seconds, six of the ten were down. My heart was racing, my vision tunneled and focused solely on the four men before me threatening the lives of my family, until I heard it…
The howl that echoed behind me stopped my finger on the trigger, blaring alarm bells in my mind like a nuclear siren. I whipped my head to where the sound had erupted and almost collapsed from the wicked sight that greeted me.
My brother.
On the ground.
Nearly lifeless and bleeding out at an alarming rate.
“Gio!” I shrieked, as bone-chilling fear rattled down my spine.
“Petal, focus!” Alessio barked, standing before Gio right in the line of fire, his expression infuriated and one-hundred percent unafraid.
And then I watched him go down too.
His eyes bugged out, his mouth falling slack, as excruciating pain lanced through his body, dropping him down onto his knees beside Gio, who was still bellowing in agony. Tears filled my eyes at the sight laid out before me and I wanted nothing more than to come to their aid, but then I remembered Matteo, and I realized I wouldn’t let them take him down too.
Pulling my other pistol from the side of my thigh, I cocked the slide back and headed right toward the shit storm with both guns blazing. Matteo managed to shoot down the one in closet range and with one…two…three clean, precise shots, I brought down the remaining three.
“Don’t you dare,” Alessio gritted out, before Matteo or I had even moved. “Go. Get. LeRoux. I’ll wrap him in the meantime.”
“We’re not leaving you two out here alone,” Matteo barked.
“Yes, you are, because we’re not leaving Gio here alone. You two are more than capable of ending that French bastard on your own.”
“Alessio,” I pleaded, feeling absolutely nauseous at the thought of leaving my brothers behind.
“Alessio, nothing, Eden! You and Matteo, go, now!” he roared, and before I could voice my protest once more, Matteo took hold of my arm and yanked me the rest of the way down the hallway with determined strides.
“So, here’s the plan. We kick in the doors and shoot. Just fucking shoot. Anyone inside that room goes down, you hear me?”
To witness Matteo taking charge of something in relation to the family business was a rare occurrence, but the moment I noted the enraged gleam in his eyes, I knew why he’d stepped up. Whether he approved of what Daddy did beneath the radar or not, this was our family, two of which were hurt…
And no one fucked with our family.
Once outside the doors of Gaspard’s office, we shared a look that screamed “Let’s get it,” and together we kicked the doors open, pointing our guns in three different directions.
But there was no one to be found.
Not Gaspard.
Not his security detail.
No one.
The window behind the desk was wide open and the sheer white curtains blew about from a sudden burst of wind that rolled by.
“What the fuck?” Matteo growled, as I ran to the window and peered outside, finding nothing but dark starry skies and the silence of the night...
The one benefit of an empty shop was that exhaustion and anxiety couldn’t affect my performance. The downfall, however, which didn’t include the obvious monetary
aspect, was that it gave me far too much time to think and overanalyze every detail of my life. Running on little sleep and an obscene amount of coffee wasn’t helping the situation either. My mind was on overdrive and all I could think about was that it’d been almost twenty-four hours since my meeting with Scarsi and I was nowhere near coming to a conclusion on my decision. A decision I had to make whether I wanted to or not, all because I sought out his help.
Scanning the sports section of the newspaper—in hopes to deter my mind elsewhere for the time being—I lifted my mug to my lips and took another tentative sip of my extra fucking black coffee, only to spit it out in disgust. It was cold, again. I swear I’d microwaved the same damn cup nearly four times already and it was quite evident in the taste. Pushing off the stool, I headed into the back room and dumped the over-nuked bean water into the sink, watching it swirl down the drain like a dirty tornado of death. I contemplated brewing another pot but then my stomach growled, reminding me I hadn't eaten since dinner with Mama the night before. There wasn't a question that the fridge was empty, yet still I found myself checking it anyway in case, by some miracle, I’d find something that could hold me off until I closed up shop and headed home.
Coffee creamer.
Zak’s half-eaten sandwich from two days ago.
Three cans of Pepsi.
A ball of aluminum foil.
Two moldy strawberries…
Yeah, like I said, empty.
The distinct ring of my cell phone carried into the back room, abruptly ending my quest to find something of substance to sate my appetite. Sighing, I discarded the rotten fruit into the trash can, quickly washed out the coffee pot, and headed back out to the front to answer the call. The number wasn’t one I recognized. Probably another debt collector hoping to guilt me into paying a portion of what I owed to one of the many companies who’d sent me to collections.
Assholes, I thought to myself just as the call dropped and the landline for the shop began to ring immediately thereafter.
“Royce’s Auto, this is Xander. How can I help you,” I answered in a cheerful voice.
“Xander, honey, it’s Nancy.”
I smiled, dropping onto the stool. “Hey, Mrs. Hendricks. What can I do for you?”
“I don’t know how to tell you this, sweetheart, but the ambulance just left for Lincoln Medical Center with your mama.”
“What?” My eyes bugged out of their sockets at the exact moment my heart nearly failed. “Is she okay?”
“She’s stable, I know that for sure.”
Not exactly what I wanted to hear but stable was better than the alternative.
“What happened?” I asked, pinching the bridge of my nose to quell the fear that had briskly taken ahold of me.
“Well, everything was fine when I came over to have lunch as we’d planned. Halfway through my visit, though, I noticed she’d begun breathing heavier than the norm. I helped her into bed straightaway and started up the oxygen tank, but it didn’t do much, and I couldn’t find it in me to leave when something just felt...off.”
“I really appreciate that, Mrs. Hendricks.” My voice trembled. “I’m surprised she let you do anything for her. You know how she is.”
“Oh, believe me, I know. She protested when I suggested calling for emergency, but my gut has never steered me wrong, so I did it anyway. Thankfully I called when I did because when the EMTs arrived and took her blood pressure, they said it was through the roof and had we waited a little longer, the situation might’ve been fatal.”
I almost puked up every last drop of coffee I’d consumed since waking up at the crack of dawn. This is exactly what happened the last time I had to rush her to the hospital.
“You said they were headed to Lincoln?” I questioned through a croak, checking the time on the computer.
“Yes, dear. They should be there real soon. I’m about to head over there myself. I know you’re at work, but worry not, I’ll keep you updated. I'm sure everything is going to be just fine.”
“No need,” I said, barreling around the counter to the front door. “I’m leaving the shop now. Thank you for staying with her, by the way. I know being on the receiving end of her stubborn wrath isn’t the most pleasant of ways to spend your afternoon.”
Nancy chuckled softly. “It’s no problem at all, honey. You know I love your mama dearly, regardless of how set in her ways she may be.”
“Excuse me,” I yelled over my shoulder, after bursting carelessly through a group of nurses in a full sprint on the way to Emergency.
I was sweating, nauseous, and not at all mentally prepared to deal with the shit storm that had unfolded in the matter of half an hour. Why was this happening again? Why was life so intent on ripping everything away from me? What, in my thirty years, had I done to deserve being stoned time and time again? I know, I know, you’re probably holding back the urge to yell and kick and scream that Mama’s illness wasn’t my fault. And yes, I knew all that, but still I couldn’t help but wonder why me?
At least she’s still alive, the optimistic little voice in my head whispered, reminding me that amidst the agonizing storm was a hopeful ray of light. This time around, Mrs. Hendricks was to thank for that hopeful ray of light. If it wasn’t for her, there was a great possibility I could’ve found Mama dead later on in the evening when I dropped by after work. A morbid thought? Perhaps. That, however, was the raw truth of the beast we call reality.
I'd known Nancy my entire life. She lived three houses over on the right and babysat me countless times whenever my parents needed a helping hand. The woman was a saint, very loving and generous, and when I’d broken the news of Mama’s diagnosis to her early last year, she’d taken it quite hard. She’d also promised me she'd help in any way she could. And today, she'd done just that.
“I’m not going anywhere right now. I feel good, stronger every day. Who knows, I may shock everyone and live another five years.”
I shook my head to clear Mama’s words from the night before as I navigated blindly through the halls. They’d been playing on a repetitive loop since I’d left the shop and were slowly but surely beginning to wear me down. Unbidden tears threatened but I willed them away, forcing myself to be strong even when I felt as though I could crumble at any given moment. I just needed to hug my mom, to see her with my own two eyes, and gauge how much time she had left. Was it horrific that I had to think that way in the first place, that I had to calculate an expiration date for my mother because cancer was a gnarly bitch who took no prisoners and wielded no mercy? Yes. But this, this torment, this unfair and downright exhausting torment, was the depressing downward spiral that had become my life. I was used to it, and in some ways, I’d accepted it. That didn’t mean I wasn’t going to try to change that which I had the capability to change. That which I had the power to change.
I was nearing the mouth of the emergency waiting room when a hallway on my left captured my attention. More specifically, a voice within that hallway that captured my attention, stopping me dead in my tracks so abruptly the glossy floors beneath my feet squealed.
Scarsi.
I’d know that booming baritone anywhere. The sight of him not twenty feet away from me was unnerving in more ways than one. Here I was, hoping to avoid him like the plague until our next meeting, only for him to be the first I run into at a time that couldn’t possibly be worse. I flattened myself up against the wall to avoid being seen—because God knows he might’ve demanded an answer at that very moment for shits and giggles—and peered down the well-lit corridor to where he stood. A tattooed young man and short blonde woman were glued to his sides. His head was tipped back against the wall, eyes shut in a way that told a tale of worry. Even from where I stood, I could see the stressed expression marring his face, feel it emanating off him in sweltering waves that somehow matched my own. I wondered what had happened, why he was here, because the compassionate side of me hated seeing others in distress, but the longer I stared at him, the more I remembered w
hy he didn’t deserve it. Vincent Scarsi didn’t deserve compassion, and certainly he didn’t deserve pity.
With renewed purpose, I took off for the emergency room once more, and prayed to whatever lucky stars I had, if any at all, that I wouldn’t run into him again. At least not until after I saw Mama.
“Hi,” I panted to the middle-aged nurse seated behind the desk when I skidded to a stop. “An ambulance was on its way here with my mom. Have they arrived yet?”
Although I’d cut three people in line, the woman smiled and turned to her computer. “What’s your mom’s name?”
“Carla Royce.”
After several clicks, she nodded her head. “They arrived about ten minutes ago. Due to her vitals and the danger her blood pressure presents, she was taken back immediately. They’re running several scans as we speak, so unfortunately, I cannot authorize you to go back there, but as soon as they’ve situated her in a room, I’ll buzz you in.”
“There's no waiting room or even a seat I can wait in for her?” I asked anxiously, wanting nothing more than to be close, even if I didn't know where exactly she was.
“I'm afraid not, Mr. Royce.” Her tone was solemn. “This right here is the only waiting room we have for emergency, and I can't allow you to sit in a vacant room when she hasn't been assigned to one at the moment. I promise, the second her charts update, I'll escort you to her room myself.”
I had every urge to protest the procedure she was following and demand to have my way, but it was pointless. This wasn't some rule she'd conjured herself. This was simply how the hospital operated, and I couldn't fault her or berate her for doing her job. My heart was heavy with restless grief, but nonetheless, I thanked her as sincerely as possible and went in search of an empty seat to wait through the madness and pray for another miracle.