Beware the Beast (Mafia Soldiers Book 2)

by Samantha Cade

  “Gives us Anthony, and we’ll give you your wife,” Snake says.

  The corner of Vince’s mouth lifts slightly. He snaps his fingers at the men behind him.

  “Go get him,” Vince orders.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Bruno

  I’m lying on my stomach on the roof, binoculars pressed against my eyes. The bulletproof vest weighs a ton on my back. My neck and shoulders are sore. I haven’t moved a muscle for half an hour. But I ignore my pain, focusing instead on the mission ahead of me. I watch the Lombardi’s arrive, and park three cars on the curb. I watch two soldiers drag out Anthony with a bag over his head, and Vince walking coolly behind them. When they go inside, they leave two cars empty. The third, Vince’s car, has a driver.

  There are two Lombardi soldiers posted on the street, one at each end of the block. I go over a strategy in my head, visualizing how it will unfold. Once I’m satisfied, I slowly put the binoculars away.

  I hear a bang as the heavy door to the concrete shop slams closed. I freeze. Two Lombardi soldiers are walking towards the car. Fuck, have I missed my chance? I stay still, watching them. They pop open the trunk of one of the cars, reach inside, and pull out Anthony, roughly forcing him to his feet, then make him walk back into the warehouse.

  That’s why Snake wanted to take Minnie. Vince tried to fake him out, but Snake anticipated it. Maybe my friend is a worthy capo after all. Shit, I’m downright proud of the kid.

  I hold my breath until I hear that door close again, then crouch at the top of the fire escape. In the alley below me, a Lombardi guard paces back and forth. I creep down the ladder, getting to a height that I can safely jump from. I grit my teeth, waiting for my chance. When the guard walks far enough into the alley, I pounce.

  I land right on top of him, knocking him down like a sack of potatoes. I hear the air escape the guy’s lungs. He looks at me with wild terror while I clamp my hand over his mouth. He tries to go for his gun, but his arms are pinned beneath me.

  “Not one sound,” I whisper into his ear.

  The guy nods. I take my hand away from his mouth, then rise up on my knees. Grabbing his collar, I lift his head off of the ground, then deliver a fierce punch beneath his jaw. His head snaps back, his eyes glaze over, and he goes to sleep.

  I drag the sleeping guard behind the dumpster and leave him there. A walkie talkie on his belt crackles to life.

  “Tony, you there? Over.”

  I don’t have much time now. I rush to the mouth of the alley and press my back against the wall.

  “Tony, where the fuck are you? Over.”

  I stay focused on the street in front of the alley. I’ll have to attack as soon as I see the other guard. If he has time to fire his gun, Vince and the other Lombardi’s will be alerted to what’s going on out here.

  Two black, shiny shoes come into view first. The second guard ducks his head into the alley, calling for Tony. I get ready, making a fist and contracting the muscles in my arm. The guard steps into the alley. I inhale, lower my shoulders and head, then run forcefully towards him. The guard barely has any time to react. I barrel into his middle, knocking him to the ground.

  The guard gasps for breath, grappling for the gun at his side. I send my fist flying through the air, sideswiping his jaw. He looks confused for a second, before the lights go out in his eyes.

  Two knockouts in less than five minutes. That’s a new record.

  I drag the second guard into the alley, and lay him next to the other one. They’ll wake up in about twenty minutes with one hell of headache, but that’s about it. That’s why I prefer my fists to guns. Bullets are so final.

  I go back to the opening of the alley, and take the binoculars out of my pocket. From here, I have a clear view of Vince’s car, and his driver. He’s a young kid, can’t be more than eighteen. He has the window rolled down, earbuds in, bobbing his head to the music.

  This almost seems too easy. With someone that young and inexperienced, all I’ll have to do is scare him.

  I stay low as I creep towards the car, keeping a close watch on that kid. He has no idea what’s coming. He’s too busy listening to music to stay alert. Rookie mistake. When I get to his window, I rise up to my full height, and tap lightly on the door. He jerks his head towards me, yanking the earbuds from his ears. I reach into the window and grab him by the shirt, pulling him closer to me.

  “Scram, kid,” I growl. “And you won’t get hurt.”

  Instead of surrendering to someone twice his size, the kid surprises me. He hurls himself back into the car, throwing me off balance. The kid reaches into his pocket. I figure it’s for a gun. I didn’t want to do this, but it looks like I’ll have to knock him out too. I swing my fist, my eye on his jaw. Before I can land the punch, the kid pulls a pair of brass knuckles out of his pocket. He holds them in front of his face.

  My fist smashes against the brass. I hear the crunch of muscle, bones, and tendons. I’m sure a few of my fingers are broken. The pain is overwhelming. I want to scream, but I bite my tongue, keeping quiet.

  I want to try and punch him again, but my good hand is fucked. I grab the kid’s neck with a the hand that isn’t mangled, and squeeze. The kid flails his arms, punching and scratching me, but I hang on. I squeeze until his eyes start to bulge, the fight in him dies, and he passes out.

  I stumble backwards, nursing my hand, and catching my breath. I don’t think I killed that kid, but I’m not sure. He’s slumped in the front seat, very still. I can’t tell if he’s breathing or not. I swing open the door, slip my arm over his shoulder, and hoist him to the passenger seat.

  I sit behind the steering wheel, delirious from pain. But I’m here. I roll up the privacy glass that separates me from the backseat, and I wait.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Olivia

  Snake eagerly hands over Mom in exchange for his friend. I sneer at him. He’d promised he wouldn’t hurt us, but what does he think Vince is going to do? And where is Bruno? Whatever he had planned didn’t work. The trade went through. My mom and I are at the mercy of Vince now.

  Mom’s face is scrunched in bitter disgust as Vince slips his arm around her. He puts the other arm around me, hugging us close to him.

  “I’m back with my girls,” Vince says. “What a happy day.”

  Snake isn’t even looking at us. He’s inspecting his haggard friend. What has Vince done to him? Anthony’s hand is bloody and mangled. His face is covered with bruises, some old and healing, some fresh. One of his eyes is swollen shut. He’s probably endured several beatings. What kind of sick fuck can do that to someone? The way Vince treats his captives is in sharp contrast to how Bruno treated me. He fed me, clothed me. He took care of me. Bruno is nothing like my father.

  Vince leads Mom and me towards the exit. Gunmen flank us on both sides, ensuring that we can’t get away.

  “Pleasure doing business with you, Snake,” Vince tosses over his shoulder. “You’ll be seeing me again very soon.”

  We walk outside. There’s a line of cars parked on the curb. I reach behind Vince’s back and grasp Mom’s hand. She squeezes back.

  “What a wonderful day for a family reunion, huh, Minnie?” Vince asks. He presses his mouth against her ear, lowering his voice. “You thought you could leave me? That you could keep my daughter from me? Looks like you were wrong.”

  A soldier opens the backdoor of a car for Vince. He pushes Mom and me inside.

  “Has anyone seen Nick and Tony?” I hear a soldier ask.

  Vince smirks. “Probably sucking each other off somewhere.”

  He gets in the car with us. The backseat is roomy. It’s almost as big as a limo. Vince raps on the privacy glass.

  “Let’s go, Johnny,” he says.

  The engine turns over. As we peel away from the curb, my stomach drops. This is it. It’s over.

  Vince reaches beneath the seat. There’s a small refrigerator there. He holds up a bottle of champagne.

  “You
two look so grim,” Vince says. “It’s like you’re not happy to see me. You’re going to hurt my feelings.” His face twists in mock sadness before he smiles and laughs chillingly. He pops open the champagne. “This is cause for celebration. How about a drink?”

  He offers the bottle to Mom. She presses her lips together, refusing to drink.

  Vince’s face reddens with anger. “Lighten up, Minnie. I just saved you from those terrible men.”

  Mom turns to him, her face dripping with venom. “I’d rather be dead than here with you.” She rears her head back, then spits right in his face.

  Vince laughs creepily while wiping the saliva from his eyes. “You were always a spitfire, but I believe you’ve forgotten how to behave.” In a flash, Vince jerks him arm, elbowing Mom right in the nose. She cups her hand to her face and they quickly fill with blood.

  My stomach roils. I feel like I’m going to vomit. I can’t be here. I can’t see this. I don’t want to watch my mother being beaten by a madman. I glance around the car desperately. There has to be a way out of here. My eyes fall on the privacy glass. If that driver had any respect for women, or human life at all, he’d do something to help us. But no, he’s in Vince’s pocket. I stare at the window, silently hating the driver. But as I do, his outline comes into focus, broad shoulders, a thick neck. My heart flutters with hope. Could it be?

  Vince’s cell phone rings. He fishes it out of his pocket with an annoyed groan.

  “What is it?” he snaps. “I’m having quality time with my family.”

  The phone is on speaker. I can hear the man’s voice.

  “Sorry, boss, but this is important. We found Nick and Tony in the alley. They said some huge guy knocked them out.”

  I look with hope to the privacy glass. It is Bruno.

  “What the fuck?” Vince yells into the phone. “You find whoever it was that did that, and you bring them to me.” He clicks off of the call, then looks at us. “Sorry, gals, in this business, there’s no time for rest. Where were we?”

  Vince sidles up to my mom, slipping his arms around her shoulders. He tries to kiss her, but she jerks her head away. Vince’s chest puffs with rage. I’m afraid he’s going to hit her again. But a sound comes from the front seat, distracting Vince. It sounds like someone groaning.

  “What the hell is that?” Vince asks. “Johnny, are you all right?”

  Vince flips a switch on his side console, rolling the privacy glass down to reveal Bruno in all of his large, muscular glory. The sight of him awakens me. I feel a pull towards him. He’s here. He can help us.

  Next to Bruno, slumped over in the seat, is a young guy around nineteen. Thick, dark bruises circle his neck. His eyes flutter open, and he’s groaning. Vince leans forward, gripping the headrest.

  “Johnny, what’s happened to you?” he says. His eyes move to Bruno. “You. You’re the one. What are you and Snake trying to pull here?”

  Vince pulls out his gun and turns it on Bruno.

  “No,” I scream, jumping from my seat. I crouch in front of Bruno, blocking him with my body.

  “Sit down, honey,” Vince says, patiently, and like I’m all of five years old. “Daddy needs to kill his man.”

  “Olivia,” Bruno says gruffly behind me. “Get out of the fucking way.”

  I lock my eyes on Vince, and the gun pointed at me.

  “No way,” I whisper to Bruno. “Stop the car. Get out and run.”

  “Not a chance,” Bruno says.

  “Don’t make me shoot you, Emma,” Vince warns. “I was hoping we could get to know each other, but I will kill you if I have to. One shot, one bullet, and you’re both dead.”

  A low, guttural growl rises up behind me. In the corner of my eye, I see Johnny lunge for Bruno. The car swerves violently, then starts spinning. I feel my body being tossed around. I’m thrown to the side, hitting my head hard. I think I black out momentarily. When I open my eyes, the car is still.

  I blink my eyes rapidly, trying to gather my bearings. Johnny was thrown headfirst into the windshield. He’s not moving. Bruno doesn’t move either. He’s slumped over the steering wheel. Mom and Vince are banged up and dazed, but they’re okay. They’re covered in fizzing champagne. A glass shard from the champagne bottle is embedded in Vince’s forehead. He grasps it with two fingers, grunting, and pulls it out. Blood flows down this terrible face.

  “You two don’t fucking move,” Vince tells Mom and me.

  He bends down, searching the floorboard. I lean over the front seat.

  “Bruno,” I whisper. “Wake up. Please.”

  Bruno stirs. He lifts his head slowly, then shakes it in a daze. Vince rises up, holding the gun in his hands.

  “Run, Bruno,” I yell, desperately.

  Bruno turns around, suddenly alert, and lunges towards Vince. But it’s too late.

  The gun blast echoes painfully in my ears. Bruno is hit in the chest, and goes down in an instant.

  “No,” I howl. This can’t be happening. He was supposed to save us. We were supposed to have a future together.

  Vince throws his head back and laughs. The blood from his forehead is flowing over his lips, causing him to spit blood everywhere. I’m in too much shock to feel despair over Bruno, but I do feel anger. You sick fuck, I think, looking at Vince. I can’t believe I have your blood in my veins.

  There’s no way he’s getting away with this. I search around the car for something, anything that can be used as a weapon. Vince stands over Bruno’s body, trying to shoot him again, but the gun’s jammed. It must have been damaged in the crash. Vince rams the gun against the palm of his hand, muttering to himself.

  And then I see it at Mom’s feet, a wine bottle opener. The sharp coiled metal is our only hope. While Vince fiddles with the gun, I slide my hand over the floorboard, grasp it, and press it into Mom’s hand, squeezing three times.

  Mom’s eyes go hard and determined. Vince has popped out the gun’s magazine, and is too busy inspecting it to notice what Mom is doing. She grasps the opener tightly in her palm with the sharp end hanging out of her hand. She winks at me, then thrusts her arm forward. Her aim is right on. The sharp metal end sinks into Vince’s ear.

  He screams horribly, then turns on her, landing a punch in her midsection.

  Oh shit, I think. It wasn’t enough to kill him. And Bruno’s dead. It’s all over.

  Just then, I feel the car rock slightly. Something very big is moving in here. It’s Bruno. He rises up with a growl, lunges over the front seat, and wraps his hand around Vince’s neck. His jaw clenches as he squeezes with all of this strength.

  At first, I think I’m hallucinating. Bruno’s dead. He hasn’t come back to life to save us. But then, I notice the hole in his shirt, the one blasted through by the bullet. There’s a thick, black vest underneath. It must be bulletproof. My heart thumps rapidly.

  Bruno squeezes Vince’s neck harder. I hear the snapping of cartilage alongside choking noises. Vince’s face turns from red, to purple, to blue. He stops struggling. Bruno takes his hand away, and Vince slumps down into a heap.

  “Is he dead?” I ask Bruno.

  “Yeah,” Bruno says, raking his hands through his hair.

  Mom delivers a solid kick to Vince’s side. “Good riddance.”

  I’m in complete shock. I’ve never seen so much blood and gore in all my life. My skin is numb to the touch. I can barely move.

  Bruno pulls Mom and me out of the wreckage. It’s nighttime. We’re on a deserted road in the warehouse district. I feel my mind leaving my body. I’m floating above all of this, watching from a distance. Bruno grabs my shoulders, kissing me desperately, and pulling me back into my body, back to reality. I clutch his shoulders.

  “Bruno,” I murmur. “You’re here. You’re alive.”

  Bruno pulls back and looks at me sternly. “We need to get out of here. The cops will come soon.”

  I hear Mom laugh. “Since when are you worried about cops? Aren’t you a Mariano? You have the whol
e force in your pocket.”

  “I’m not a Mariano,” Bruno says to Mom, then looks back at me. “There’s a bus stop a few blocks from here. Take the thirty-two to the end of the line where the greyhound station is. That’s where your car is parked.” He reaches into his pocket, then presses my car keys into my hand. I look down at them. They look like an artifact from another era.

  “What about you?” I ask. “Come with us.”

  I touch my hand to his face. Bruno grabs my wrist, his eyes filled with pain.

  “You need to stay away from me.”

  “No,” I whisper.

  “They’ll come after me,” Bruno explains. “I’m a dead man.”

  I slide my arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. “No, Bruno. Please come.”

  Bruno hugs me back, only briefly, before forcing himself to let me go.

  “You two don’t deserve to live in fear any longer.” He cups my cheek, swiping his thumb across my lower lip. “Goodbye, Olivia,” he says, quickly, then walks away.

  I start to run after him, but Mom catches my arm, stopping me.

  “Let him go,” Mom says. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “No,” I say, watching Bruno get farther and farther away, disappearing into the night.

  “Olivia.” Mom pulls me towards her, making me lay my head on her shoulder. “He’s doing this because he loves you. Don’t you see?”

  I do see. But why does love have to hurt this much?

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Bruno

  (Several Weeks Later)

  I don’t run. Christ, I thought about it. I even came close to driving across the border into Mexico, entertaining fantasies about starting a new life as a fisherman in some tiny beach town. But in the end, I couldn’t do it. What good are sandy beaches and salty air if I’m constantly looking over my shoulder, waiting to be gunned down? And Olivia wouldn’t be there. There’s no way I could be happy without her. I’ll never get over her, I know it. Every morning, I wake up with her on my mind. She haunts this apartment like a ghost. She’s everywhere I look. I can barely go into the bedroom where she was held.