by Layla Frost
“Always the negotiator.” Once I was back in bed, he pressed his lips to mine. “Need anything?”
“Is Niall here?” At his nod, I pointed at my stuff. “Can you bring everything out to the SUV?” I asked. “I don’t want to get held up fussing with it later.”
Though I’d spent the majority of my stay asleep, it hadn’t stopped everyone from bringing me flowers, books, and magazines.
He picked up everything. “Anything else?”
“A coffee? Like, the biggest one they have. Maybe two.”
“You got it, my gattina.”
After the door closed behind him, I sat back up and looked around for the remote. I was still flipping through the channels a couple minutes later when Chris, my nurse, came in.
“You ready to go?” he asked as he began cutting off my hospital bands.
“Very,” I half lied. Anticipation and dread both turned my stomach, mixing with the residual mental daze and physical exhaustion.
I looked at the circled day on the whiteboard calendar and still couldn’t believe it said Thursday. I’d spent a little more than a week in the hospital, but only had clear recollection of the previous day or two.
My lungs were clear, my fever was gone, and I wasn’t in as much pain. I’d been up and walking as much as I could. I was only on a mild antibiotic. When the doctor had discontinued all the other medicines and none of the symptoms reoccurred, I was bugging everyone to let me go.
They’d finally listened.
“We’re going to miss the parade of visitors.” Chris picked at the tape on my inner arm. “And the parade of food.”
His words distracted me, which meant I only felt a little woozy as he removed the IV. “What?”
“Your family. They were very thoughtful, dropping off coffee and snacks to the nurse’s station every day.”
I just nodded, having no clue what he was talking about. I knew Luc, Ben, Rachelle, and eventually Theo had all spent some time there, but I didn’t know about anyone else.
Chris looked at me closer, his tone turning more professional. “Are you sure you’re feeling up to leaving? I can page a doctor back.”
I smiled, shaking my head. “I’m fine, just tired. It’s been a long week that I don’t remember. I just want to soak in the tub and rest in my own bed.”
Most importantly, I want to finally get my answers from Theo so I can get my head on straight.
He smiled warmly, giving my shoulder a squeeze before his pager beeped. “Your body has been through a lot, so taking it easy sounds like the perfect plan.” When his pager beeped again, he sighed. “It’s been one of those weeks. It’s been fun, but I hope I don’t see you in here again.”
“Same,” I agreed as he left.
There was a knock at the door a moment before a man entered with a wheelchair. “Transport.”
Gathering my bag, I sat in the wheelchair. I zoned out as I tried again to imagine what Theo was going to say while also trying to stay awake. It was only when I saw us going past the transport elevator did I focus on where we were.
“I thought all patients rode on that,” I said.
“Usually, but this one is closer to the exit.”
“But my ride is meeting me up front.”
He pressed the button but didn’t respond.
Something is wrong.
I shifted just slightly, and the man’s large hand covered my shoulder. “You’re not allowed to get up until we’re at your ride,” he stated firmly. “Insurance precaution.”
The man was friendly and relaxed, whistling a bit as we rode the elevator to the ground floor. I wasn’t sure how I knew, but my gut was telling me something was off.
Too soon, the elevator opened and we were right in front of an exit. When he pushed the door open, I saw we were in an alley.
“My ride is on the other side,” I said with a forced laugh. “I can just walk—”
“Shut it,” he said, the kindness gone from his expression. His eyes darted up and down the alley, growing more panicked.
“Missing something?” a familiar voice asked.
The man cursed as Luc stepped out from another doorway indent. Lifting the wheelchair handles and toppling me to the ground, the man tried to take off running. He didn’t get far before he was tackled by Luc.
Luc lifted him up, pulling the guy’s arms back so much it had to be painful.
As I stood, I saw an SUV turn down the alley. It hadn’t even come to a stop before Theo was out and in the guy’s face. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, yet I couldn’t tear my eyes away.
Theo’s eyes were narrowed, his jaw tense as he spoke through gritted teeth. There was a flash of a sadistic smile, so quick I almost missed it.
There was so much coldness in his expression, it sent a shiver down my spine.
“Get in the SUV, gattina,” he said suddenly.
My eyes moved between him, whoever the man was that Luc had, and the SUV. “What?”
“Niall will take you home.”
Only then did I see the older man with the graying red hair waiting for his order.
“But I—” I started before Theo interrupted.
“Go home and rest. I’ll be home soon.”
I looked at the brick building and the guy in Luc’s hold. I remembered Theo’s lies during his confession, only this time I envisioned it with the fake transport man hitting his head on the wall. Tears pricked my eyes.
A weight settled on my chest, pressing hard when I realized something.
Something which cemented the fact I was a bad person with a black aura.
I wasn’t worried about the man. Not as much as I should have been, at least.
I was upset at the thought of Theo going away again.
“Gattina, I promise. I need to get some answers so I can keep you safe.” Theo’s eyes were soft and intense. “I’ll be home soon.”
Without another look, I got into the SUV.
Niall walked around to his side and climbed in. “He’ll be fine,” he said, pulling away.
“I hope so.”
Theo
I looked down at the bloodied man, his face unrecognizable.
Gabe unwrapped his hands, opening and closing his fists. Blood was splattered all over the front of him.
Luc and me, too, but not as much as what stained Gabe.
People had the tendency to underestimate him.
After Dahlia had left with Niall, the unknown man took a ride with us to one of my unoccupied buildings where Gabe was waiting. Luc released his hold on the man, and the fucking idiot had smirked.
Lifting his fist, he’d started to swing, but it’d been too late.
Gabe was fast, agile, and brutal. Stopping only for one of us to question the moron, he was merciless in dealing with every lack of answer or snide comment.
When we finally got him to spill his name, Luc brought out his laptop to handle his side of things.
“One more hit, and he won’t be able to answer even if he wanted to, boss,” Gabe muttered. “Hate wasting my time. I’d suggest we bury the fucker alive, but the risk…”
“Timmy is a bad, and stupid, boy,” Luc called from the folding table he’d set up in the corner. “Long list of petty busts for shoplifting, possession, follower shit. Ohhh, soliciting. Naughty, naughty.”
“He run with anyone specific?” I asked. “What about with the other guy?”
“No, but same lack of pattern. Looks like he works with whoever has money. He’s loyal, though. His last stint was double the time it had to be because he wouldn’t give up his crew.”
“Wonder if it’s worth giving up his life?”
When the man looked up at me through already swelling eyes, his nod was nearly imperceptible.
Gabe pulled his gun out. “End it or keep at him?”
“We’re not getting anything from him. You good for clean up?”
He grinned. “It’s my favorite part of the job.”
He wasn’t kidding, ei
ther.
I just shook my head at him as I went to check on Luc. “Anything?”
“Not yet. I’ll keep,” he paused as a single shot went off behind me, the noise echoing despite the suppressor, “digging. Davis is running the plates on the van.”
“Any info on the other guy?”
“Fucking nothing. They’re no-name punks, but they’re loyal. Gabe, Ben, and I all worked at him, but he didn’t break.”
As much as it’d fucking killed me to send Dahlia home without me, it hadn’t been about seeking vengeance.
It was about protecting her.
My first night at the hospital with Dahlia had been interrupted by someone with a gurney coming in and saying she needed to head for an x-ray. Since he wasn’t wearing an ID or the correct color scrubs, he didn’t get far.
The latest asshole had the uniform right, but he’d left his van in the back alley with the keys in it. He’d likely assumed no one would be checking things out.
He’d assumed wrong.
Another layer of guilt landed on my shoulders, heavier than the last.
Since it was doubtful anyone had it out for a former workaholic barista, it was a safe bet it was Dahlia’s connection to me that’d put her in danger.
And since I sure as fuck wasn’t about to give her up, that left me one option.
Find the motherfucking rat who was behind all this and make him pay in a way that made it clear.
No one fucks with us.
Chapter Twenty
Toe the Line
Dahlia
Stretching, my eyes remained closed as I inhaled deeply. Theo’s scent hit me, settling the vague unease lurking in the back of my tired mind.
I opened my eyes and rolled onto my side, but the bed was empty. For the first time in over a month, however, I hadn’t slept alone. Catching sight of the clock, I did a double take. It was after ten.
The day before, Niall had driven me home. When pacing the room had grown old, I’d taken a bath to rinse the stench of hospital off me. I’d climbed into bed with Gus to watch some TV around six, but must have fallen asleep.
I’ve slept more in the last week than I have in the last three years combined.
Climbing out of bed, I felt grimy and tender. As much as I wanted to find Theo, I needed a shower first. Maybe I was just prolonging the inevitable, but I stayed in the hot shower longer than necessary, gathering my thoughts.
When the water began to turn cold, I dried off and pulled on some leggings, a long tank, and a hoodie before heading into the bedroom. The TV was on, the volume low. I looked around for Theo, but found only Gus sprawled on the bed.
“Hey, fella, catching up on current events?” I scratched behind his ear as he rolled to reveal the remote under his fluffy belly.
“… after Senator Larson’s suicide shocked the political world.”
I turned toward the TV so fast I nearly twisted my ankle. Very little was being said, the focus more on the new nominees. However, an old campaign photo of the senator took up half the screen. His date of birth and date of death were stamped across the bottom of the picture.
It could have been a coincidence that he’d died the day before Theo had turned himself in. I knew it wasn’t, though. To my soul, I knew.
Senator Larson hadn’t committed suicide.
Theo was responsible.
Directly or not, I wasn’t sure. But I was going to find out.
I made my way down the steps on trembling legs. Anticipation surged through me as I mentally reviewed all I wanted to ask.
When I got downstairs, I turned, only to halt when I saw Theo, Luc, and Gabe sitting in the living room.
They all stood, everyone but Theo gathering their things. They said something, likely their goodbyes, but I didn’t hear.
As the door closed behind me, Theo stepped forward.
And I stepped back.
Guilt and pain slashed across his features, his voice a harsh plea. “Dahlia.”
He tried again, but I took another step back and held my hand out to stop him. His jaw clenched, but he stayed in place.
“Did you kill him?” I asked, my voice shaky. “The senator. Did you kill him?”
Theo had the good sense to not play stupid. “Yes.”
“And the man yesterday?”
“I didn’t pull the trigger, but yes.”
My tone was a sharp accusation. “Who are you?”
“I’m the same man I’ve always been.”
“You’re not. The Theo who was soft and gentle, taking it slow for me wouldn’t kill anyone. Wouldn’t go to prison. He wouldn’t go, leaving me,” my voice caught, “leaving me alone again.”
“I am that Theo. I’m just… more.”
“I need to know the more,” I pleaded. “Why? What did he do?”
There has to be a valid reason. A justification.
“He talked to you. He breathed your air, he freaked you out, and he tried to use you to get to me. No one fucks with you. Ever.” His eyes blazed, his fists balled, and his jaw clenched. “That may have been the last straw, but he had this coming to him already. If it hadn’t been you, he’d have done something else to seal his fate.”
“Why? What else was he doing?”
Theo rubbed his jaw, hesitating. “Once this is out there between us, there’s no pulling it back. You can bury your head in the sand after, but you’ll know.”
“I need to know because I can’t stand being kept in the dark. I won’t be.”
He must have realized I wasn’t dropping it because he finally began talking. “Larson didn’t want in on Amaric. Not really.”
“Then what did he want?”
“He wanted in on the other side of my business.” When I crossed my arms, waiting for more, he launched in. “Amaric is a legit and legal company, but it’s also a cover for things that aren’t. Things that go back generations and generations.”
Generations?
Italian.
The crest tattoo all the men in his family get.
The fear and respect he receives.
“Are you in the mafia?” I blurted.
“In a manner of speaking.” He shifted as if to approach before stopping himself. “Remember when I told you my family wasn’t stereotypical in most ways, but some we were?”
Stunned silent, all I could do was nod.
“The same is true with… my business. It’s not like on TV or movies. It was at one time, but we’ve had to adapt. It’d be easy for cops to catch on if we were all wearing tracksuits, greasing our hair, and catching things that fell off the back of the truck.” His attempt to lighten the mood fell flat.
“Do you steal?”
“Not in the way you’re thinking.” I waited for him to say more, but he didn’t elaborate.
My frustration and anger boiled over, and I lost it. “Could you just spit it out already? I’m so sick of the half-truths and vague answers! The whole time you were gone, everyone told me to,” I lifted my fingers in air quotes, “‘be patient’ and ‘Theo will tell you soon’. But now you’re here, and I’m getting the same run around.”
“Because I’m not gonna fucking lose you, Dahlia!”
“Then tell me the truth. All of it.” I pointed to the front door. “Otherwise you’re guaranteeing I’m walking out, and you’ll never fucking see me again.”
Theo stalked toward me, backing me against the wall and caging me in with a hand next to either side of my head. His voice was a fierce growl, the edge barely restrained. “Like fucking hell you will.”
There was a sick thrill that traveled through me, arousal soaking my panties even as I tried to ignore my reaction to him.
“Then talk to me,” I demanded.
He inhaled slowly, softening his expression. “In the late nineties, parts of the American Mafia began to change. Some held strong to old school customs and traditions, and those are the same guys still getting arrested. My dad had already began making changes during his time as boss. I took o
ver around the same time Amaric was growing successful. This allowed me to change things further.”
My mind raced as I tried to take it all in. “But it’s not all legal?”
Theo shook his head. “Far from it.”
I thought back to any of the mobster movies I’d seen. “Drugs?”
“No.”
“Women?”
His head jerked back like I’d slapped him. “No.”
“How do you steal? What do you do?”
Who are you?
“I own a number of buildings,” he said, “and use the abandoned ones for illegal fighting. I’m not usually directly involved in the fights, but I get a cut of it.”
That doesn’t sound too bad.
“Usually?” I pushed.
“Occasionally, I need to step in. A fighter who’s upset, an investor who is being difficult, or a manager who isn’t doing his job. Things like that.”
I could live with that. In fact, it was more exciting than not.
Which was how I knew there had to be more.
Crossing my arms in the limited space between us, I demanded, “What else?”
“Around half the businesses in Boston and the outlying areas pay me for protection. It’s a much smaller percent down in New York City where I have a capo and crew, but it’s growing.”
“How many people do you have working for you?”
“Including everything? A few hundred. More if you count the businesses I have control over right now.”
I drew on my movie memory. “Do you… force the businesses to pay you?”
He laughed, the sound bitter and painful. “Who do you think I am, Dahlia?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted on a whisper.
“There’s no reason to force anyone. The world is a fucked up place and crime is everywhere. If someone doesn’t want to pay, I withdraw the services. It’s only a matter of time until someone else, completely unrelated to me, makes them realize they’d made a mistake. And if not, there are plenty of other people who want my protection.”
Feeling numb, I tried my best to focus on his answers and not let my mind run wild. “And Senator Larson fits in how?”
“Larson was a bored sociopath with money and power. He was a thrill seeker who was reckless. A dangerous combination. When I told him he couldn’t work with me, he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He began interfering with fights and drawing too much attention.”