by Jax Hart
Tears cloud her eyes. “She never made it. She wasn’t meant to be, and neither are we.”
“Why are you here? Why did you seek me out?”
“To save you from him.”
“I don’t need that. Maybe he needs saving from you. Did you ever think of that?”
She sits back as if I’ve slapped her across the face.
She picks up my phone and rounds the table. “Smile,” she says seconds before snapping a pic of the two of us and hitting send.
“O.M.G. you did not send that to him?”
“I did,” she smirks.
“He’s going to bust a nerve.”
“I’m counting on it. See you around, Chloe.”
My mouth is still gaping as she breezes out, stopping once to give me a wink. She takes the air with her when she leaves. Romina Fiorelli is a superhero who looks like an angel. There’s almost a supernatural quality about her that sucks you in. I understand now why he can’t let go and why she can’t either.
“Chloe?!” Roque barks as I answer his call.
“I’m here. She’s gone.”
“What did she want?”
“I don’t know. Maybe to prove a point?”
“Did she hurt you?”
“No, she wanted to save me… from you. I think she thought we were bumping uglies.”
“Chloe. Language.”
“I know. So gross, you’re like ancient and snore….”
“I do not snore.”
“You did on the plane.”
“Chloe!”
“Anyway. I’m going back to campus.”
“You gave your security the slip!?!”
“Ummmm, maybe?”
“You’re grounded!”
“You can’t ground me. I’m in Switzerland.”
He curses in a string of his native Italian. “If she comes near you again, You call me right away.”
“Okay. What are you going to do?”
“What I’ve been trying to do for years. Find her. Take her. Make her beg for me.”
“Wow that sounds hot. Have you ever read Wuthering Heights?”
“No. I was too busy killing people for Constantine. Remember?”
I open up my Amazon app and order him a copy. “I’m sending you a copy. We can read together at night. Like we used to…. If you want…”
I hear the warmth in his voice. “You got it squirt.”
I smile, disconnecting the call and head outside to board the bus back to campus. A pack of snow hits my face. “What?” Another one pelts me in the back. The sounds of snickering follow. I turn around facing a group of girls that have been at Chillmark since fifth grade. They call themselves the “Elite Eight.” I flip them off and get on the bus. I might be smack dab in the middle of an international love story. Maybe the best one ever to exist but I’m still the nobody new girl.
I need to channel my inner Romina. What would she do? She’d kick ass that’s what. I gaze out the window thinking of ways I can get the upper hand. I might be sweet and shy, but I have the most badass super dad and hopefully a villainess for a mother. The Elite Eight better watch the fuck out. Chloe Salvatore won’t tolerate this shit much longer…
Part I
REDEMPTION
Prologue
Roque
Is a broken king lucky enough to take both a queen and a princess?
In our fucked-up fable where the villain is also a hero and the fair maiden injects poison into her own apples is happily ever after even a possibility?
Where are you Red? Do you hate me because I loved Blue more? It’s true. I miss my Baby Blue. Maybe I’ll tie you up in chains and dye your hair for you. We’ll hate fuck in the dark until we purge ourselves of this sick madness. Even if it takes forever.
Rain falls softly from the sky. Like the Earth’s soul is weeping. My curled fist rests against the glass as I look down. I have everything a man could want and yet it feels as if I have nothing at all. Is this how my father felt? How every Don had felt as they reached the pinnacle of their reign? Alone? Weary? Soul-sucked?
Chloe is the only light in the tunnel of darkness where I’ve made my home. But she doesn’t deserve to live in darkness. Sighing, I raise the amber liquid to my lips. I can’t sleep. Not after what went down in the private island in the Bahamas. I had gone because I knew I should. After witnessing the pain Chloe suffered, I knew I had to go and check if there were any girls underage. Any that went against their will. I was told they all went for the money. I had to see for myself. So, I posed as a prospective client looking for a toy. None were there willingly. All were drugged up and used, until they couldn’t be used anymore.
Disgusted, I had left. Staying there was nothing worth my time. But the dog, Romanov, promised he’d get more. A fresh supply was due in a few weeks time. I have a short time to put together a plan that includes my best men and an exit strategy. But more importantly, how in the hell do I return dozens of lost girls home without damage to my rep as the villainous Roque Salvatore, head of his own syndicate?
With a wry smile, I finish my drink. Chloe has changed me. I’m doing this for her, so she can love a father who is no longer the monster. For her, I want to be the dark protector. I’ll always run the mob, but I won’t traffic people or make money off sex slaves. I run just about everything else though. A tiger can’t change all his stripes, or he’d no longer be a tiger.
My cell dings from its spot on the table. Frowning, I check my wristwatch. It’s past three in the morning. Crossing the floor, I pick it up.
Hans: Code red.
Me: Where?
Hans: Miami. South Beach.
“What are you up to now, Red?” Unlike the past, I don’t demand more. I don’t call my pilot. Every time, I just lose my head and chase her. This time, I have other things on my plate. Besides, I want to know what she’s up to before I go after her. I won’t risk getting any more cars blown up. Then again, I haven’t been photographed with a woman in months…maybe her temper has cooled. Walking into my bedroom, I glance at the two pictures sitting in frames. The first is of me and Blue. She was eighteen and I was twenty-two. It’s a selfie the night I took her to prom. The second photo is my dirty secret. The selfie Red took of her and Chloe. I had it printed and safely tucked behind glass in a 24 karat gold frame. My two girls. The loves of my life. For them, I’ll be a better man. Step one is saving those girls on that island. I had one of my men snap a few pics discreetly of the layout of the place. I’ll send for Johnny in the morning and together we’ll draft a plan.
“Sleep well my two beauties. I’ll see you both in my dreams…”
11
Romina
Two weeks earlier…
The girl’s words twisted me up. The hope I had tried to extinguish for so long flares back to life. I tap my phone against my thigh. There’s only one thing to do.
Me: He kept journals? Secret words on me? I need them. Crave them. I want them. Badly. I know what you are thinking. Why does she keep running? I’m so sick of her running. Well, so am I. Call me and I’ll tell you the rest of the story. The words I crossed out, deleted. Erased.
Chloe: You want his words? They come with a price.
Me: Name it.
Chloe: Stop being a chicken shit.
Me: You seriously did not just call me that.
Chloe: I need help. I’m being bullied and it sucks.
Me: I went to a new school and a new country once, too. Remember?
Chloe: That’s right. You beat up your bully in the cafeteria.
Me: No one ever fucked with me again.
Chloe: That won’t work here. I’ll get kicked out.
Me: I’ll be in touch… If you tell Roque… all bets are off.
CHLOE: He has an app that gives him access to everything in my phone.
ME: Now she tells me. ***eyeroll***
CHLOE: Oops.
“She’s such a little shit! I hope she gives him hell.” I pace around my hotel room in Paris
. The train ticket to Italy is on the app on my other burner. I haven’t been back since I left huddled under an old carpet in the trunk of a car. Maybe, if I go revisit the past, I can put my future to bed. Maybe, going back is my only way forward.
Roque won’t be far behind with Hans Henderson on his payroll. I tried to hire Hans myself only to be told by the black-market broker that Hans signed an agreement with Roque not to take me on as a client. I pull my wig on, add a beanie ski hat and puffer coat, shielding my eyes once again with oversized sunglasses. It’s time to confront the ghosts of my past.
Just as I’m about to leave the room my cell dings. I half expect it to be Roque using his ways to gain access to my burner but it’s not Roque. It’s a different devil. One I never saw coming but who has me in his clutches, nonetheless.
“Ms. Fiorelli. You failed to check in yesterday.”
“Sue me,” I sneer.
“Be in New York tomorrow by five.”
“Sorry. I can’t make that.”
“You best cooperate, or my office will have no choice but to prosecute and I’ll let I.C.E handle the rest.”
“Why? To deport me?”
“Yes, back to Italy.”
I grin. “Too late Mr. FBI I’m already on my way there.”
He’s silent. Take that!
“Second thoughts on turning in your ex-lover?”
“I never agreed to hand you Roque.”
“Fine. Interpol will be waiting for you on your arrival.”
“Fuck you, Jack.”
“I don’t do felons and you Romina Fiorelli are one. You have one last chance to gain your freedom or do time for your crimes. Using fake US passports alone could get you life—never mind that you were smuggled in illegally as a child. You have no papers, no legit US ID. Face it, you are a ghost Romina.”
“I’ve always been a ghost Jack. Your threats don’t mean shit to me.”
“Hand me Salvatore and you can start over anywhere you want.”
“You don’t have enough leverage on me to make me care.”
“Do you know a Keisha Evans?” My heart drops. This time I’m the silent one as he speaks. “She never told you did, she? Maybe she was ashamed about it… her ex-husband Terry Evans worked her over. She fled with her boy and pressed charges, but he made parole. It was only his first offense. He’s due to get out in two weeks…. I can stall and make something stick on him if I have your cooperation of course.”
Fucking K. She always had to be with an athlete. Terry almost went pro but he got injured in one of his last games. He became a drinker, but K never told me he also became abusive. She knew I’d drop everything to rescue her ass and I get it. Once you’re past a certain age a woman doesn’t want to be rescued or chastised for her bad choices. But still. K should’ve told me.
“If and I mean if—I give you one crumb of evidence against him I want a contract. I want in writing that bastard never touches K again and I want full immunity for anything I’ve done past or present. Romina Fiorelli will have dual citizenship and I don’t ever want to hear from you or your office again.”
“That better be one titanic crumb. I’ll be in touch.”
I throw the burner against the wall. It shatters into pieces. I was so busy running from Roque and Julietta’s goons that I never saw the FBI coming. Julietta tipped off someone from Interpol on her family’s payroll that I lived illegally in the U.S. She knew I was in Princeton and everything Zio worked so hard to conceal unraveled. None of it went public as long as I “cooperated.” The Feds want Roque. Badly. I’m facing a lifetime of charges. Julietta wanted to make damn sure if she couldn’t have her ever after with Roque that I couldn’t either. Little did she know I’ve always doubted I could anyway.
I was on a tear after I saw Roque with Chloe in Chicago, I stopped at a diner on my way to LA where two men in suits approached my table. “Hello Romina Fiorelli. We’ve been looking for you.” The man was handsome, but his eyes were cold. Colder than two chips of Arctic ice. He told me his sister was a victim of the mob. She was FBI and has worked in New York and that Roque had her killed. He showed me a picture of her. She was pretty, with so much light in her eyes. They never found her body. He suspects Johnny was involved and hauled him in but couldn’t make anything stick, thanks to Roque.
Then the agent showed me pictures that had me gagging on my food. Images I still can’t get out of my head. Those combined with my anger at seeing Roque with some teenage girl had me agreeing to do whatever they wanted as long as I could stay free. Now, I’m trapped in someone else’s thirst for revenge on Roque and if I don’t comply…all that running I’ve done since that day in the woods will be for nothing. The thing is I’m still torn. I still can’t decide if Roque is redeemable or not.
I turn quickly, grabbing my gun as a manilla envelope is slid under the hotel room door. When I check the peep hole, no one is there. Carefully, I slide the contents of the envelope out on the bed. Acid burns my throat as I feel the contents of my stomach heaving. It’s grotesque pictures of girls. Bound, gagged and, drugged. Other pictures are of their discarded bodies. On a sticky note are the words “Courtesy of The Salvatore Syndicate.” Jack knows where I am. He’s probably in Paris, too.
Did I even know Roque at all? The pictures conflict with the memory of how he cherished me when I was “Blue.” But in the back of my mind, I remember how capable he was as a teen and then the night on campus when that guy dared to break the rules on his and Johnny’s turf.
He’s totally capable and I always knew it. Maybe that’s why I always ran every time I wanted to stay in the arms of my beloved monster.
I scoop up the contents and throw them back in the envelope. I’ve seen enough. Know enough. I don’t know what he is doing with Chloe. Maybe she’s just a way he can sleep at night. He might have saved one but how many others is he personally responsible for damning. Now I know how he reached the top so quickly, how his fortune grew so exponentially. He probably has politicians in his pocket no doubt some may be involved in what I just looked at.
I carefully check the trash bins, then use glass cleaner to wipe my prints from any surfaces I might have touched. I travel with a pair of disposable gloves. All this time I was worried about Roque and now I need to add Jack Miller to the list. I have no idea how that man managed to dig up so much shit on me, but I curse the old families in Italy for giving him everything about my life there.
I exit the hotel, keeping my head down, briskly walking to the rail system. My arm is yanked back. I turn ready to scream. “Not so fast, Romina.”
I roll my eyes. “Agent Jackass. What a surprise.”
“We can do this either the hard or easy way. You decide.”
Glancing to my left then right, I notice he came with back up. Some are undercover with the tell of earpieces. Others blatantly stare at me in their designer knock-off suits. And I know in my gut that my running days have come to an end. But I got caught by the wrong wolf.
Reluctantly, I let them lead me inside an SUV with darkly tinted windows. “Where are we going?”
“Scared?” Jack taunts.
“Only of your cheap polyester suit.”
“Always so full of fire. I get why he’s so fascinated.”
I don’t answer. I turn my head out the window as my mind works fast just how I’m going to rescue myself from this colossal mess.
The car parks outside a nondescript building. I get out, ignoring his hand. They put me in a windowless room. Interrogation. On the table are pictures of me from LA to Vegas. I’ve been watched. Stalked. While my eye was on a different target, theirs were on me. I sigh, closing my eyes. I’m so fucked.
“Training call girls to drug unsuspecting clients so they can empty their wallets, steal hotel access cards and clear out their rooms? You also had a nice side business making counterfeit ID’s and helping clients “start over.” Or how about the time you seduced a dealer into stealing chips and replacing them with counterfeit ones?”
> “I never slept with him.”
“You’ve been busy.”
I yawn. “Cut to the chase, Jack.”
He bangs his fist on the table. “One of the men your crew drugged ended up in cardiac arrest. He had asthma and low blood pressure.”
“Then he shouldn’t have called for a hooker.”
“You think you’re so innocent… the poor victim who just wanted a normal life. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, sweetheart. You are everything your father hoped you’d be. A ruthless gangster.”
“I’m nothing like my father.” My father? I shudder in silence remembering who left marks on my skin where no one would see.
“Hand me Salvatore on a platter. I need hard evidence that will stick. You’ll be given several USB recording devices, pens that double as cameras.”
“This is some real super spy shit, Jack.” He backhands me across the mouth. I taste the copper tang of my own blood.
“I own your life. Get used to it. All it will take is one phone call and you’ll never feel daylight on your skin again.”
“My skin burns. I hate the sun,” I shrug.
He leaves the room coming back with an ice pack and a coffee. In his hands are more pictures. I don’t want to look but he forces me. I had my doubts Roque was involved in trafficking women to be sex slaves until I saw the evidence myself. There he was in a circle of men looking down at women on their knees wearing nothing but bras and panties with their arms bound behind their backs.
“Do you think you can do it? After all you’ve failed your whole life to fulfill your vow. My boss thinks you can’t. My money is on you though. I’ll give you four months to find something on him we can use. If you fail—”
“I won’t.”
“Good. And don’t think of running. I’m not as dumb as he is.” Jack presses a button and two people enter the room. One is wearing gloves and goggles while holding a long needle. “Tracer chip. It’ll sting for a second. It slides right under your skin.”