“Magda!” she gasped as the other woman’s face appeared on the screen.
The camera then zoomed out to show both women, Magda standing behind Nola, pointing at something, distracting the younger waitress. When Nola’s attention shifted, Magda moved her body so she was blocking the camera’s view, then reached beneath the counter and swiped Nola’s tip bag. A few seconds later, she reached into the register as Nola was making change for someone and grabbed a handful of bills.
What neither women knew was that their boss had installed another camera straight above the bar area, hidden in the racks of glasses.
“You knew it was her,” I said gruffly, startling Nola from her trance-like focus on the TV. “No one else was behind the bar with you. Why didn’t you say anything?”
Her gaze swung toward me and she blinked. Then she shrugged. “It would’ve been my word against hers. And she has seniority in every way, including knowing the camera angles. I knew I could never prove she’d done it.” She licked her lips, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “I thought I was going to lose my job… maybe more. Stealing from you, from Mr. Shy, well, it could be a death sentence.”
I walked toward her and dropped to my knees in front of her next to the sofa. I took her thighs in my hands and pushed, opening her up, making room for myself between her legs. She began trembling. I kneaded her hips and legs through the silk of her robe, occasionally brushing bare skin as the robe opened, giving me delicious peeks of bare pussy and plump, smooth inner thigh.
“Stealing from me is extremely dangerous,” I said in a low voice. “Some might say… fatal.” She made a strangled sound in her throat and gripped the couch as though her life depended on it. “Shhh, my love, you have nothing to worry about. You will always be safe with me.”
“I will?” she asked breathlessly.
I moved her robe to either side of her legs and slid my hands inside, savouring in the soft warmth of her. I knew without a doubt, now that I’ve had my Nola, that I would not be able to go long without her touch. She called to me, like a siren’s wail, only hers was sweet and silent and would last forever.
“Yes,” I assured her. “I love you, Nola. I want only to protect you from harm.”
“Oh my god,” she breathed, her dark eyes wide on my invisible face. She lifted shaking fingers and placed them against my cheek, tracing her thumb over my nose and across my lips. I grinned and pressed a kiss against her passing fingers. She smiled.
I took her hand and lowered it. “You may not have stolen from me, but someone else did. And she stole from the woman I love. This won’t be allowed to pass,” I said grimly. “You understand how things work in my world, Nola?”
“Yes,” she whispered, lowering her lashes.
She knew what had to happen, but would she approve? Probably not. Nola was a lovely, kind woman, capable of nurturing and love. She wouldn’t like the idea that anything related to her got someone else hurt, even if she couldn’t stop the outcome. I leaned over and kissed her cheek, whispering, “I’m sorry,” in her ear.
She looked up with a frown. “Why?” she asked sharply. “That leathery old bitch stole from us, she’s long past her expiry date. In fact, I want to be there when she gets what’s coming to her. If you want this thing between us to work out, then you better let me watch while you mete out some street justice. Got it?”
Chapter 9
Nola
It had taken some arguing but I’d finally managed to convince Mr. Shy… Rasputin to let me come along. I wasn’t sure exactly why he was reticent about having me there when he made Magda pay for her thievery. Maybe he was worried I wouldn’t be able to stomach his brand of justice or perhaps he just preferred to work alone. Either way, I knew I had to be there. If this relationship between us had any chance of working out, we were going to have to find a way to work together. And that meant I had to know what my new lover was capable of. And he needed to know exactly what I was capable of.
I wandered his office, running my fingers over his things, enjoying them with new eyes. The possessive eyes of a lover who was beginning to see all the possibilities. I touched the back of his chair, his stapler, phone, paper weight and letter opener. I picked the opener up and parked my ass on the edge of his desk, running the object through my fingers and across my palm, enjoying the smooth sensation against my flesh. It helped heighten my pleasure that the item was solid gold.
I looked up as the office door opened. Magda entered first, a smug expression on her face. She was ushered in by our boss. I frowned. Why was she looking so proud of herself? Rasputin waved his hand toward one of the guest chairs. Magda sat, settling herself comfortably into the black leather. Her malevolent gaze flashed to me and she gave me a tight, thin-lipped smile that spoke a world of dislike without a sound passing through that red-tinted mouth.
Rasputin rounded his desk, nudging my hip with his as he passed and knocking me to the side. I took the hint and straightened, sliding off the desk. I set the letter opener back down and stepped a more respectful distance away from my boss, watching with interest as he opened the conversation.
“As you know, Magda, a small amount of cash went missing from my establishment yesterday evening,” he drawled his words, placing one gloved hand on the desk in front of him, drawing her eyes. Now that I was getting to know him better I saw the trick for what it was, drawing the gaze away from his face so the person sitting opposite him didn’t grow curious about the shadows that constantly surrounded him. “I was hoping you might be able to tell me what you saw take place in and around the bar last night.”
I stifled a gasp. Of course he knew what had taken place, we’d both seen the video evidence. But he was lulling her into a sense of complacency, making her think she had a chance. I loved the way he was playing cat to her mouse. I could feel the blood heat in my veins.
She sent a self-satisfied glare right at me before turning an innocent expression on her boss and saying, “I was working my section all evening, Mr. Shy. I only went to the bar for drink requests, like I always do.”
I could feel my blood pressure rising at her blatant lie. I wanted to dig her eyeballs right out of her skull and curled my fingers into my palms to check the impulse. I side-eyed Rasputin to see how he was taking this drivel. He seemed to be contemplating her, his hat bobbing low in a slow nod. I inched my hand toward the paperweight, closing my fist around the smooth object. His hand came down, covering mine and squeezing. I didn’t let go of my new weapon.
“So you didn’t go behind the bar last night?” he questioned, his voice smooth and non-threatening.
Magda tilted her head to the side as though thinking about it. “I might have…” she said, her voice trailing off. “Actually, now that I think about it, I did.” She pointed at me and said smugly, “She asked me to help her mix a few drinks. It must’ve been a distraction so she could pocket the money and blame it on someone else. We all know about the cameras. It was the only way she could get away with taking the cash.”
“Hmmm, an interesting theory,” Rasputin drawled, his voice cool.
I was steaming mad. This bitch had an answer for everything. Well, so did I. I pulled my arm back and hurled the paperweight at her. It caught her in the side of the head, knocking her right off the side of the chair. She went down like a heap of bricks while I laughed at the dumbass look on her face. I reached for the letter opener and was about to launch myself over the desk and directly on top of my prey when Rasputin caught me around the middle and dragged me backwards, grabbing hold of my wrist.
“You are a bloodthirsty little thing, aren’t you?” he asked in my ear, taking the opener from my hand and smacking it back down onto the desk. “Thought it was a fluke when you stabbed me in your apartment. Guess I’ll have to watch my back when I piss you off.”
Magda was squirming around on the floor and moaning while we sorted out the minor issue of whether or not I should be allowed to stab the bitch. I gave up my struggle with a sigh of defeat.
“Fine, let’s get this over with.”
He released me and stalked around the desk, seizing Magda by the arm and dragging her off the floor. He picked her up and slammed her back down on the chair. She shrieked and grabbed her head where a trickle of blood was making a path down the side of her face. I gave her a toothy grin. She looked back at me, her face now pale with fear. Glad she was beginning to show a little respect, even if it was too little, too late.
“We know you took the money,” Rasputin snapped, stepping away from the older waitress. “I have video evidence from over top of the bar. You were the one that distracted Nola, then you stole her tips and took money from the cash register.”
Magda started to shake her head, moaned and grabbed hold of her hair as agony ripped through her skull. “I didn’t, I swear Mr. Shy. It must’ve been Nola!”
“Don’t you fucking blame my doll!” he roared, crouching low enough to get in her face. She flinched back in the chair, covering her face from his anger. If she’d looked at him in that moment, she would’ve seen his lack of face. “I have evidence you evil bitch. You’ve been around long enough. You know how the organization works. You were hoping I would blame Ms. Antonetti, you were hoping she would meet mob justice, weren’t you?”
A sob rippled out from between her fingers and her shoulders shook. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it would go this far!”
“You’re sorry you got caught,” he snarled. “You’re sorry it’s not Nola sitting in this chair taking the heat.”
“I’ll pay you back,” she sobbed. “Every penny!”
He didn’t say anything. He straightened up, standing over her. I stepped around the desk and took my place behind her, wanting to see his face when he declared her fate. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t technically see a face, I didn’t need to. This was my man in all his glory, in his element. This was the Rasputin Shy that wanted to keep Nola Antonetti. Forever.
“Too late, Magda,” he said, in his rough calm voice.
Her breathing grew heavy. “My family is connected, they won’t stand for this,” she cried desperately.
I was done with this bitch. I lifted my arm.
“Nola!” Rasputin warned sharply.
He was too late. I brought my hand down in a vicious arc, slamming the letter opener into the side of her neck. Blood sprayed, she tried to scream, I giggled. Rasputin growled, “Fuck,” as blood arced in wet streaks across his beautiful office. I winced. In hindsight, I suppose I could’ve explained my impulsive plan and maybe we could’ve discussed the pros and cons.
Her body fell to the floor, blood pouring from her neck. She wasn’t quite dead yet, but definitely close.
Rasputin sighed and rubbed a gloved hand over his invisible face. “Look, Nola. I love that you want to help me out at work, but we don’t murder people in my place of business. It leaves evidence and the blood stains are nearly impossible to get out. Okay, doll?”
I grinned, happy that he didn’t seem too angry. “Okay, baby. Can we go get something to eat now? I’m starving.”
Chapter 10
I ran my fingers over the collar of my brand-new coat, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of the way the top-of-the-line faux fur collar hugged my neck. Of course, I couldn’t stand the thought of owning real fur. I may be a stone-cold bitch in some ways, but I wasn’t into animal sacrifice when it came to fashion. I sighed and surveyed my kingdom from my usual stool, right next to Rasputin’s empty stool at the bar. He was out for the evening, conducting business with his new judge, so he left me in charge.
“Another drink, Ms. Antonetti?” Mikey asked in a deferential tone. Gone was the bartender that used to tease and even flirt with me. Now he was polite and respectful every time we saw each other. Occasionally I missed our banter, but I much preferred my new status.
“Please,” I said, pushing my glass toward him without looking away from the dining room. The new wait staff were doing an excellent job. We’d had to replace both Magda and myself rather quickly. Rasputin wouldn’t let me continue as a waitress, not even for one more shift, despite Magda’s abrupt disappearance.
He’d given me almost complete decision-making power when it came to the restaurant, his only rule being that if his guys came in with cash, staff had to accept the bills and give cash back, no questions, no hesitation. If anyone came nosing in our business we looked the other way and plead ignorance. In the weeks since I’d been running the restaurant he paid me the highest compliment by saying the place was running smooth as clockwork. He even said he’d been able to pay more attention to his business around the city, expanding our empire since he didn’t have to pay such close attention to the money laundering side of things. I’d grinned at the way he said the word ‘our’, how he entrusted so much to me in such a short amount of time.
Having assured myself that the dining room was running as smooth as ever, I uncrossed my legs, picked up my glass of wine and slid off the stool. “I’ll be in Mr. Shy’s office if anyone needs me,” I told Mikey, turning away from the bar and heading down the shadowy hallway leading toward the back rooms.
Before I made it to the office an arm slid through mine. I glanced up, expecting to see my lover, back early from his business. Instead I was met with the fierce glower of an older mustached stranger, clearly Italian. The thick eyebrows, thin lips and a wrinkled, bitter expression told me this man was probably related to Magda. Well shit. The muzzle of a gun flashed in the dimly lit hall before he pressed it against my side. Double shit.
“You’re coming with me,” he growled, shoving me hard toward the back exit. The glass of wine I’d been holding slipped from my fingers, smashing against the floor.
I opened my mouth to protest, but the door flew open and a shadowy figure reached through the doorway, grabbed my arm and yanked me through. Now there was a man in front of me and a man behind, both ushering me into the rainy alleyway behind the restaurant. My heart pounded in my chest and despite the gun I opened my mouth to scream, to let the restaurant staff know what was happening. Before any sound emerged from my lips pain exploded in the side of my head. My knees buckled and I would’ve fallen except the guy in front grabbed me roughly and dragged me forward toward the open door of a vehicle. I was shoved inside. The door slammed shut before I could attempt another scream.
I pressed a shaking hand against the side of my head. The door on the other side of me slammed as the mustached thug slid into the vehicle. The moment his door closed the car took off, driving away from the scene of the crime at a high rate of speed. I clutched the doorframe in one hand and brought my other hand down, looking at the blood on my fingertips with anger. The asshole cut me when he smacked me in the side of the head with his gun. He was going pay for that move.
It should’ve frightened me that they weren’t worried about me seeing where we were going. It didn’t. We drove to a dilapidated warehouse on the riverfront, completely deserted except for an empty car parked next to the building. They couldn’t have made more of a statement about their plans for my future health if they wanted to. Someone opened my door and I was pulled roughly from the vehicle.
“Move.” The same man pushed me forward, because clearly the asshole believed I couldn’t walk on my own. I stumbled on my heels and reached out to steady myself against the side of the car.
Mustache grabbed my arm and pulled me through a door into a cold, empty building. The other two guys from the car filed in behind us, while another, much older man stood in the warehouse, waiting. He was leaning negligently against a table, smoking a cigarette. I was dragged forward to the old man and then pushed to stand directly in front of him. I wasn’t particularly tall, but in heels I damn near towered over the stooped, elderly man.
The cigarette still dangling from the fingers of one hand, he reached for my face with the other. I tried to jerk away from his touch but one of his thugs grabbed my arms and held me still. He took hold of my chin and squinted up at me. “Pretty thing,” he grumbled, his voice thick and
creaky with age. “Shame.” He released my face and turned away. “Sit ‘er down. Don’t touch her until Shy arrives.”
A chair was brought forward and placed next to me. Before I had the chance to sit myself down, I was shoved into the seat, my ass hitting the wood hard. The breath hissed from between my teeth and I vowed that these men would die badly. Which was a pretty easy bet considering my lover wasn’t going to be happy when he found out what happened.
I looked at the table taking note of a rusty machete, a large switchblade and a pistol. I nodded toward the motley assortment. “Nice,” I said, leaning back in the chair and crossing my legs, getting comfortable. “It’s good to give yourself some choice. Although that rusted out piece is going to hurt like a bitch when Rasputin shows up.”
“Who the fuck you talking about?” Mustache asked, lighting a cigarette.
“Mr. Shy,” I clarified. “Rasputin is his first name. You know… I don’t think many people know that.”
“No one gives a shit,” he spat, his eyes gleaming malevolently.
I shrugged, unconcerned. “I guess it’s a matter of perspective. I give a shit. But you certainly won’t once he shows up and starts hacking y’all into little pieces.”
“Enough,” the old man grumbled. He snapped his fingers and pointed at another chair, directing his man to bring it forward and place it in front of mine. He sat and faced me. “Do you know why you are here, madam?”
I smiled coldly. “I have an idea.”
The Horror of our Love: A Twisted Tales Anthology Page 25