by Cindy Skaggs
Several long moments passed before Blake saw the flash of the kubotan in her fist. Slightly larger than a pen, the metal cylinder was a seemingly worthless weapon turned deadly in her hand. The man was on his knees before anyone in the room could blink.
The downed man’s buddy leaped from his barstool. He’d worked for Nick Calvetti, Victoria’s brother, and seemed intent to prove his independence. His face flushed in anger. Being female didn’t buy her leniency. He went after her with a beefy fist.
Blake shook off Dez’s hand and jumped from the stage. The job mattered, but he couldn’t let a woman, any woman, take a beating while he did nothing. If he did, he’d be no better than the men he wanted to punish. He had no choice but to save Victoria’s scrawny neck. What had she been thinking, coming into the club, today of all days?
Before Blake could reach the dance floor, Victoria used her voluminous skirt like a matador, twirling it around the man’s arm, deflecting, until he fell forward like a drunk. She was on him like a demon, the kubotan leaving marks on pressure points the thug didn’t know he had, until she twisted his wrist in between the kubotan and her thumb. The classic move drove the man to his knees.
Pushing her advantage, Victoria twisted. The man flopped on his belly, but the natives were finally roused. They stood and circled the dance floor. Blake had to shove to get between these men and Victoria. A member of a rival family would receive no mercy, especially one without protection. He couldn’t allow it to happen. “Stop,” he yelled.
Mick grabbed a shotgun and chambered the first round. The unmistakable metallic clunk stopped every movement in the joint, but more than a few hands gripped a weapon of choice. Dez’s gun was locked and loaded, hidden in the folds of her skirt. Blake aimed his Glock at the man closest to the action.
The bar was set to be the OK Corral, and in the middle of the disaster stood the spritely Victoria Calvetti. Dark hair fanned her like a veil, giving her the appearance of a masked vigilante. The woman was perfect, and she hadn’t even opened her mouth yet. And, if he remembered correctly, her brain was her best asset.
On the floor, her first victim whimpered about his eyes. The second was at her mercy with just a six-inch hunk of metal and the spine of steel holding it. Eddie D approached like he was trying to talk a man off a ledge. Hands forward, the older man looked as harmless as a grandfather at Disneyland. Blake knew his appearance to be deceiving, but Victoria’s eyes rounded when she saw him.
“Eddie?” she said, her voice a rough whisper. The huskiness sent Blake into a dangerous pit of memory and desire.
“Miss Vicki, let the man go and we’ll talk this through nice and civilized.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Not a chance in hell, old man.” She shifted her wrist, causing her prisoner to moan.
“You might want to remember who taught you those moves,” Eddie said.
“I remember.” Her eyes shifted across the room, taking in the most immediate threats. “Since it was you, you know I can snap this man’s wrist before you take a single step, so stay the hell back.”
“He’s expendable, Miss Vicki,” Eddie said agreeably. He hadn’t made a move, didn’t break a sweat, but the local muscle was getting antsy.
Victoria tossed her head like a lioness while she kept a man pinned at her feet and the rest of the room in her thrall. Her green eyes snapped with a fire time had not dimmed. Wearing a long skirt and boots, she was an earth goddess, intoxicating in her arrogance. She was outmanned thirty-to-one and didn’t seem to care.
“They’re not all expendable.” Her gaze flashed across the bar to Blake. “You, for instance.”
Ah, there was the challenge he wouldn’t ignore. He circled the dance floor, angling for an offensive position. He nodded at Victoria like they were passing each other on a Sunday stroll. “Miss Calvetti, I don’t remember extending an invitation.”
The smile on her face did a number on his blood pressure. “I don’t remember ever needing one with you.”
She chose a miserable time to remember their long-ago affair. “Times change. I heard you were an honest businesswoman now.”
“Keeping tabs on me?” Her voice was as challenging as her stance.
His pulse jumped. “Ours is a small world.”
“Is that an admission? Because I didn’t know you were in the life,” she said, her tone an accusation. “I thought you were too smart.”
He’d heard it all when a Calvetti tried to shame him for being a mobster. While they spoke, Blake maneuvered the long way around the crowd to land on the far side. Mick had the edge of the dance floor closest to the bar and Dez had the side nearest the stage. “A smart man can go far.”
“And how far ahead are you looking? What’s the endgame? Money? Power? Death and dismemberment?”
He chuckled despite the serious situation. She was fantastic. Surrounded by armed and hardened men, she was spitting fire and challenging with every word she spoke. If anything, she’d improved with age. “I’m looking far enough ahead,” he answered. “What about you? A smart woman doesn’t walk into a bar on a day like today.”
“So I see.” She glanced at Dez and lifted an artfully shaped brow.
The next words out of Victoria’s smart mouth would damn them both. He cut in. “What’s your endgame? Because as nice as it is to relive old times, you’ve interrupted a meeting.”
“A meeting of what? Boy Scouts? No, not possible since I see some of my brother’s men.” She frowned at Eddie. “But not everyone here is a Calvetti.”
It was like she couldn’t help poking the wild animals. He shook his head. “The Calvetti organization doesn’t exist anymore.”
Her tone turned sassy. “Don’t be so sure.”
“You staking a claim?” The question came from the man nearest to her. “You think you’re woman enough to head the Calvetti family?”
Two effing years of his life gaining ground in the organization came down to this unplanned moment. Thoughts ran through his head too fast to grasp, but it all boiled down to one question. Why did Victoria show up at today’s meeting? He shifted closer until she was in a triangle amid Blake, Dez, and Mick. As safe as they could make her in this fire pit.
Was she staking a claim? She better not be thinking of becoming active in the life. The man who’d asked the question flexed his fingers on the butt of a gun. A group of men in the back shoved forward, grumbling. Eddie stepped between Victoria and the crowd. The crazy old man was still acting as the woman’s bodyguard, and in this place, it would get him killed.
“Staking a claim to what? The Calvetti name? It’s a birthright, sweetheart.” She grinned as if she could charm her way out of the current situation. “But I have no interest in your little club.”
Blake stepped between Victoria and the man she was baiting. “In that case, sweetheart, time for you to leave.”
Victoria responded by twisting on the pressure point of the man at her mercy. “We seem to have forgotten my friend here. I can’t exactly leave with things unsettled.”
“It’s finished,” he said with a bite to his tone. He needed her out before fists started flying.
“Just like that?”
“Yes.” He nodded at the tense crowd.
“I say we keep her around,” a man called from the back. The man wore his greasy hair pulled behind his ears, showing off the prison tat on his neck. The intricate spiderweb went from under his collar to his ear and meant he’d done time, caught in a web, trapped behind bars. “Let her pay her brother’s debt.” His tone held the threat of violence.
Others nodded in agreement, their gazes turning hungry.
“Back off,” Mick called from behind the group.
Dez’s expression turned hard. She glared at Blake and pulled the gun into the open.
The saucy expression on Victoria’s face hid a hint of panic he hadn’t seen before.
“A wise strategist knows when to retreat,” he said. While she still could. He wasn’t just trying to save his plan n
ow. The crowd was on the verge of violence, and with all the weapons involved, one or both of them could end up dead.
Her face paled. Too little too late, she finally understood the ticking bomb she’d walked into. “How about we call it a détente? The word ‘retreat’ sticks in my craw.”
“Call it a party as long as you get your sweet ass out of my club.”
She peered around the dim room, her eyes calculating. “Can you guarantee safe passage?”
He nodded in response and gave a hard look to the men ringing the dance floor. “Yes.” It was an order to the men as much as a guarantee to Victoria. No matter the cost, she would get out safe.
“Fuck that.” The man with the prison tat stepped forward, and the crowd parted.
“Back off, asshole.” Blake lowered his tone and glared, turning the statement into a threat. The crowd moved back a step at the command in his voice. Even Victoria went still, her eyes round. No one spoke. Blake turned to face the tattooed man, his back to Victoria. Now he was the idiot standing between her and trouble.
“Name’s Wayne.” He spat on the ground. “Asshole.”
Every muscle went taut. Wayne posed a danger to Victoria and to Blake’s mission. Neither threat could stand. Victoria’s presence had jacked up his day, his week, maybe his year. All these people in one place were tinder, and Victoria was the spark. This punk with an attitude had issued a challenge Blake couldn’t ignore. He holstered his weapon, and then popped the knuckles of his right fist. Wayne’s mutiny called for a hands-on demonstration.
“I remember now.” He paced closer, his moves slow and controlled. He shrugged out of the jacket he hadn’t had time to remove and let it fall to the floor. Anticipation flooded his system. “Wayne, formerly of the Southside.”
The threat to the man’s territory was met with a sneer. “The Calvetti witch walked into our turf. Let’s keep her around, show our enemies how we treat their women when they walk into the wrong place.” Wayne laughed.
Fury blanketed Blake. No longer slow or controlled, he planted an elbow to Wayne’s face. Blood gushed from a broken nose. The crowd erupted in chaotic voices. The first man Victoria had incapacitated climbed to his feet. Anger rode his features, and he wanted payback against Victoria. Blake turned to intercede, but Wayne rushed, tackling Blake to the dance floor. He hit and rolled, breaking free of Wayne’s hold.
Eddie and Mick flanked the crowd, weapons drawn, preventing a free-for-all. A man from Calvetti’s crew stepped forward to put a boot on the man threatening Victoria, freeing Blake to concentrate on his own battle.
Blake had grown up a street fighter, and he didn’t fight fair. He climbed to his feet before Wayne and planted a thick boot into Wayne’s kneecap, effectively keeping the other man down, but he wasn’t finished. The insult to Victoria wouldn’t stand. He kicked out, heard a rib break. “Not our turf, asshole. My turf,” he said between gritted teeth. It was time to remind them who was boss.
Wayne tried to roll to his feet, but Blake tackled him, rammed an elbow into the broken rib, and heard another crack. He couldn’t afford to let the challenge to his authority go unpunished. He jabbed the ribs a few more times before ramming the heel of his hand against Wayne’s windpipe. The other man rolled to the side, flopping and gasping for breath.
Blake climbed to his feet, standing over Wayne like an executioner. “Stay the fuck down.” He shook his head to clear the adrenaline, and began to feel the aches of the punches Wayne had landed. He was too old to fight like a street hood. With a nod to Mick, Blake addressed Eddie. “If Wayne moves, shoot him.”
Eddie nodded. Next, Blake looked at the man who had stepped in to protect Victoria. He pulled a name out of a mental file box. Trenton. Like most of Calvetti’s men, he was steroid strong with a neck the size of a tree trunk, but unlike the others, he hadn’t been swift to change allegiance. Blake appreciated Trenton’s loyalty to his former boss. Loyalties shouldn’t shift like the wind. He met Trenton’s gaze, pointed to the man on the ground. “Same goes for him.”
Trenton nodded, but his eyes promised there was a price for his cooperation.
Freaking Victoria Calvetti. She was a walking time bomb. The mood in the room had shifted. Several men eyed Victoria with barely-leashed fury. Adrenaline turned to anger as he faced her.
She was staring down, panting for breath, and her arms shook. Her chest heaved with what might be panic.
“You seen enough?” he asked.
Finally, she raised her eyes and met his gaze head on. “Safe passage.”
“Done,” he promised. “There will be no retaliation, do you hear me?” He glared around the room, meeting the gazes of the men gathered around. They muttered, the grumblings of dissent. Damn her for making a difficult situation even more untenable. She’d always had the unique ability to screw up his plans. “The first man who makes a move against Miss Calvetti gets a bullet in the brain.”
She released the man and stepped back in the same move. Victoria gave Blake a mock curtsy, her face mutinous, planting seeds of rebellion. “You always did know how to show a girl a good time.”
She was something else. She’d challenged his authority, wrecked his plans, and nearly caused a riot, all with a saucy grin on her face. He wanted to smile, but choked the temptation down. He had an uprising to suppress. “The next man who challenges my authority spends time in the basement.” He implied torture, much like Nick Calvetti’s notorious basement torture chamber. Calvetti’s chamber was a legend known to most of the men in the room. No one asked if this building had a basement. They’d save their mutiny for another day.
Surprise was evident in Victoria’s wide-eyed gaze. “Basement torture? I never thought to compare your behavior to my brother’s.”
He motioned at the two men she’d incapacitated. “Nor yours.”
She pulled at a nonexistent string on her sleeve. “As you said, times change.”
“Remember it, because the basement makes what you did look like playtime.” He glanced around at the men, some of whom were sitting back down to their drinks. “Mick, when we’re done here, take Wayne downstairs.” He’d have to make sure the crook disappeared for a while. He hadn’t wanted to rule by fear, but he’d do what he had to now that his plan for the day was shot. “The next man won’t get a second chance. Miss Calvetti is off-limits. Do I make myself clear?” The nods of assent were tinged with respect for his position. It was a very thin line he was walking. “Eddie, escort Miss Calvetti from the property.”
He needed her out, but he also needed her safe. She was one of his last good memories. A time of innocence and first love, two things so far from this world, he’d need a time machine to get them back.
Eddie motioned her ahead of him. Blake knew the older man would risk his life to get her out of the building before fists turned to bullets. They were nearly to the door when he stopped them with a word. “Eddie.” He needed the men around him to believe it. He needed Victoria to take the warning to heart. “Do whatever it takes to make sure she doesn’t come back.” He gave Victoria a black look, but when he spoke, it was to Eddie. “I’ll hold you personally accountable if she darkens my door again.”
The swish of her skirt out the door was the only sound in the room.
Behind him, Dez tucked her weapon back into her thigh holster and leaned against him with a sigh. They might just survive the day, but he wouldn’t give odds on it.
Chapter Three
Vicki’s legs shook more the closer she got to the car. Twilight descended on the questionable neighborhood as the sun dipped below the mountains. Dark and dreary wasn’t a peaceful experience. A chill raced up her spine. For the first time, she realized how alone she’d made herself. By helping to eliminate the evil her family represented, she’d helped herself out of the only protection she’d ever had. Respect—fear—for the family.
People had treated her with a light hand because of the Calvetti name. Not anymore. Eddie practically shoved her across the busy street
. “What the hell were you thinking?” he asked, the tone oddly paternal. A pissed-off parent, but he’d earned the right, more parent to her than her own father. “Walking into a room like a brainless twit, something you wouldn’t have done when your brother was alive.”
She had already called herself a thousand kinds of fool; she didn’t need Eddie adding to her shame. “What the hell were you thinking?” she shot back. “The Feds let you off and you run to the nearest mob faction you can find?”
And it was a questionable group. The Rocky Mountain Mafia was an unknown entity. Years ago, they had ties to Italy, but it was anyone’s guess who pulled the strings now.
“It’s not like I have Social Security.” Eddie’s tone was kinder than it had been before. Weary. “This is my security.” He unlocked the door and helped her inside. He swiped a large hand over the kubotan, wiping off blood and skin. “This is a weapon of last resort.”
The metal cylinder was as thick as the old man’s thumb with a pointed end and a hefty solid core. It sank to the bottom of her purse most days, and she’d always considered the weapon an anchor. Until today. “It felt like a last-resort moment,” she answered.
“Might have been.” He nodded his head. “I’m not always going to be around to protect you. You walked into an unknown situation without backup. Doing so, you placed your face in the center of a target. If your brother were alive, he’d take these men out, one at a time. Kill ’em all, but you don’t have a brother anymore. You don’t have family.”
“Cheery thought.” She’d never understood retaliation. Revenge seemed juvenile, but now she realized fear of retaliation had kept rival families and gangs at bay. And right now, fear of Blake’s retaliation was the only thing keeping those men from hunting her down. She massaged a hand over her temple. “I wasn’t thinking.”