“Hey man. Where you at?”
I lift my chin to the bartender, trying to get his attention. “Come join me for some drinks. I’m at The Blue.”
Turning my head around, I spot the table Eve and I were at just a few hours earlier. My stomach clenches. I should have found a different bar, but coming here is second nature at this point.
His voice comes out scratchy; I can barely make out his voice through the static. “Be the-r- la—” The line cuts out.
Christ, but I need to find a way to get better cell phone service out here. It’s annoying as hell. Hanging up, the bartender moves in front of me. I order myself a Jack and Coke.
I finish my first drink when Slade drops into the seat next to mine.
“Dude, what the fuck happened? Eve ran off like she was heading to a goddamn funeral.” He raises a hand and the bartender nods in acknowledgement. “Oh, and she didn’t go to L.A.”
“What the fuck you talking about?” I turn to face him.
“Dropped her off at the regular airport. She went to New York City.”
“She must have gone home to talk with her sister. And Angelo.” I grab my glass, squeezing it so hard my knuckles hurt.
“You gonna tell me what happened?” Slade asks before ordering his drink. I go through the general outline of events, ending with the shitty way I dropped her off in front of the hotel. Repeating it like this, out loud, makes me realize that I may have seriously fucked up.
“Listen, brother.” He clears his throat. “She’s worked pretty fuckin’ hard to get where she is right now. You gotta understand that. You can’t just throw it all at her and expect her to say yes.”
My heart beats erratically. “You don’t get it. I’ve waited for an eternity. And she hates her job, anyway. There’s nothing out in L.A. for her. If she wants, she can do law out here, too.” I sound like I’m making excuses, but still, it’s the truth.
“Come on, man. That may be right, but it’s gotta be a conversation. Not an edict.”
“It’s been long enough,” I grumble. “If she wanted—” I close my mouth, dropping my head into my hands and pulling on the ends of my hair. “I should call her. Apologize again. Ask one more time if—”
“No. Just chill and let her work it out. She’ll come to you when she’s ready.” He pats me on the back. “No doubt.”
I exhale, long and slow. He’s right. How could I have given her the cold shoulder after telling her to end her career? I went about it all wrong. I curse under my breath, rubbing my face. I’m goddamn impulsive. She didn’t say she loves me, but I know she does. Of course, I know. I was supposed to go slow. But instead of keeping up that pace, I ran over her. I shake my head, angry at myself.
We drink together in silence until Slade stands up, dropping money on the bar. “Wanna head out?” he asks.
“Nah, not yet.”
He leaves, and I continue to agonize.
I try to relax, bringing forward memories of Eve.
She’s trying to sit up in bed, but I keep grabbing her waist, pulling her down to me.
“Vincent, I’ve gotta get to class!” She giggles. Again, she tries to get up, but I don’t let her. Throwing her on top of me as if she were my own personal blanket, I wrap my arms around her back.
“Need you, babe,” I grumble.
“And I need an A in Ethics.” I can feel her smile against my chest.
I sink my teeth into her shoulder and she cries, “Ouch!” My tongue laves the mark. Love how she tastes. Even though I can’t see her, I feel her epic eye-roll.
“I’ll tutor you,” I move my lips to her neck. “You’ll get the A; I promise. Skip class.”
She struggles to get free, but I only laugh.
“There’s got to be a way to get out of your hold.”
She’s turning angry, and I love her angry face. I turn us around so that I’m straddling her. She lets out a huff of annoyance. I place my large hand around her wrists, locking them above her head. She immediately quiets.
“I’m not so sure that’s possible. Seeing as I’m over a foot taller than you.” I trail my palm down to the valley between her breasts, moving down the curves of her hips. “Much heavier than you, too.” I let go of her hands as I lift her bottom half into the air, bringing myself to the edge of the bed.
“You never play fair, Vincent.” She tries to maintain composure. As usual, she knows what I want. Her eyes are trained on me as I stare at her body hungrily, dragging her soft white cotton underwear down her thighs…
A blonde takes the seat next to me, interrupting my dreaming. “Hey,” she says in a sweet voice.
I ignore her, wanting to go back to my daydream, but she introduces herself to me anyway. “I’m Emma.”
Turning toward her, she places a small pale hand on my arm. I stare down at her fingers, ready to pry them off. Before I can, I look up at her and see her smiling. Eve runs into my thoughts and the way I treated her today. The last thing I should do is be a dickhead to some innocent girl. She’s wearing a cardigan for fuck’s sake.
“What are you drinking?” She turns red, seemingly embarrassed by her forward behavior. She lifts her fruity-looking cocktail to her mouth before continuing. “I moved here last year from Idaho. My grandfather lives on the rez.” Fuck, she’s trying to make small talk. I gulp down my drink and ask the bartender for another.
“I live in town now,” she continues, taking another sip. “I’m a teacher at the elementary school. Third grade.” She pauses, staring at me hard as though she’s trying to place me. “Wait a sec—are you Vincent Borignone? The Milestone?” Her voice and eyes are star-struck.
“Yup,” I nod.
Girl’s got a strange glint in her eye, but she keeps talking as if I’m some goddamn celebrity. I continue to act like I’m listening, as though I were a decent guy.
I press my lips together. Fuck, but I miss Eve so badly. She’s probably with Angelo and her sister right now. I should just call him. But I can’t interfere any more than I already have. Slade’s right, anyway. She has to decide this for herself. Still, it’s hard to sit back and wait when I know that she’d be happier doing something else. Doesn’t she know I would never take things away from her? I always have and always will put her first, and I know she’d do the same for me.
I want to shift in my seat, but somehow, I can’t move. It’s as if my arms and legs are paralyzed. I try to kick out my feet again, but they do not budge. What the fuck?
I stare at my phone on the bar. It’s blinking red. I see Eve’s name on the screen; she’s trying to call. I want to answer, but my body is no longer taking direction from my mind. What is going on here? I only had a few drinks, not enough to get me hammered like this. Sweat breaks out on my forehead as nausea turns my stomach.
“He’s Vincent Borignone. Just confirmed it.” I hear Emma smugly talk to someone behind me.
“Crow’s gonna be thrilled we got him so quickly. Nice job, sweetheart.” From my side-eye, I see money exchanging hands before a pair of strong arms pull me off my stool. Two men I don’t recognize, both wearing leather vests, hold me by the shoulders. I want to get free, but it’s a losing battle. My head lolls to the side as they grip me, lugging me out of The Blue. I can vaguely hear them tell the bartender they’re my friends, here to get me home safely.
Moments later, I feel the warm Nevada air, and my entire world goes black.
23
EVE
It’s been over twenty-four hours of calling Vincent, but I can’t get through to him. In my gut, I know something’s wrong. He was angry and lashing out before I left. But after what he told me about the way he feels, I don’t think he’d just stop answering. No. I know he wouldn’t. I pace Janelle’s small bedroom while she watches me with sadness in her eyes. She ordered sushi that’s sitting in the kitchen, untouched. I can’t eat.
I already spoke with Kimber, who can’t get a hold of Vincent either. I called the number on the business card Slade gave me the day I
came out to Nevada, but he also isn’t answering.
I told Janelle all the details of what happened between me and Vincent. She hates him for everything he’s put me through and swears she always will. Regardless, she’s sitting with me as I stress out, and that has to be enough.
My phone rings and I answer without checking the caller ID. “Hello?” I pray to hear Vincent’s voice.
“Eve. Something’s up. It’s Slade.” His voice is clipped but calm.
“Is it Vincent?” I swallow, moving my free hand to my bottom lip. “I’ve been trying to call him and he won’t answer.” My voice comes out in a rush. I can practically feel the mounting pressure in my head.
“You’ve gotta get out of New York tonight.”
“W-why?” I stutter.
“There’s a lot going on. Vincent’s been taken, Eve. I’m sending a car right now to bring you to Teterboro airport. The jet will be waiting to—”
“Wait a second. Vincent’s been taken?” I drop into Janelle’s desk chair. “Where?”
I can hear his loud exhale over the phone. “I got a call from Tom. Turns out Antonio’s anger over Vincent reached a crescendo. He hired the Boss Brotherhood to kill Vincent. They’ve got him now, most likely at their clubhouse in Nevada.”
“But, why would he do that? Why would he—”
“—Tom tried to warn Vincent that Antonio was losing it, but he didn’t want to listen. Antonio doesn’t care about his son, Eve. Shit went south during the years Vincent was in lockup. And when Vincent came home and told his father he was backing out of the family, Antonio lost it.”
Bile, like liquid acid, rises up my throat.
“You know the line, cut off your nose to spite your face?”
“Mmhmm,” I manage to hum.
“Well, that’s Antonio. He knows how important Vincent is for business. But he’s mad, Eve. He’s mad that Vincent walked away from him. Not because he gives a shit, but because no one walks away from Antonio Borignone. It’s a loss of control. And to an egomaniac, nothing could be worse. Do you understand me? I’m sorry for rushing through this, but we don’t have time right now. Vincent is in the hands of lunatics. You’ve gotta get him out of there.”
“M-me?” My head spins.
“Yes. Antonio knows who I am and that I’ve got Vincent’s back. The likelihood that the BB knows my face and that I’d be coming for Vincent is high. But you—you’re unknown.”
Janelle bends her knees to come face to face with me. “What’s going on?” she mouths.
I widen my eyes and shake my head at her, but don’t reply.
“I’m going to email you details so you can study on the ride over,” Slade adds.
“What?”
“I was able to put together a map of the clubhouse. If you go in there as a girl looking for a wild night, there’s a chance you can get into one of the bedrooms and then into the basement.” His voice is confident, leaving no room for negotiation; this is Slade in his natural element, military training on point.
I turn my head to the floor, staring at the silver diamond pattern on the carpet.
“Eve?” His voice is urgent. “You in?”
My breath exits my mouth slowly as I gather my wits. If I go in there, I’ll be risking my life. But without Vincent, there is no life. And regardless of the drama and pain of our past, I would never turn my back. Could never. No amount of self-knowledge and reflection can change the outcome of my choice because—Vincent.
“Okay,” I respond, my mind made. “Send the car. I’m at Janelle’s on—"
“I know where you are.”
I hang up the phone. “Well?” Janelle asks curiously.
“Vincent’s been taken.” My voice comes out shaky as our eyes lock. “I’m going back to Nevada tonight. He’s at some motorcycle clubhouse right now. Slade wants me to go in there and get him out, but I have to look like a girl there for the party. He has a plan—”
She raises her hand in the air, cutting me off. “Oh, fuck you Vincent Borignone!” she screams to the ceiling before training her angry gaze back on me. “You can’t risk your life for his, Eve. I’m not letting you go.”
“Janelle,” I reply quietly. “I love him—”
“Love shouldn’t mean that. Love shouldn’t bring you down or kill you, for God’s sake. And Eve, take a look at yourself. Nothing about you spells club slut looking for a good time with bikers.”
“I’ll figure it out—”
“No. I’m coming with you. You’ll need help turning yourself into one of these girls and that’s something I can do.” Janelle jumps off her bed and immediately takes out a small duffle from her closet shelf and drops it onto the floor. Gathering her makeup cases from the bathroom, she places them into the bag before running back into her closet and removing clothes.
She pauses, turning back to me. “Pack your shit, Eve. And call that fucker, Slade. Tell him that I’m going to need his plane to bring me back here when I’m done with you. I’ve got appointments I can’t miss.”
“Janelle, I can’t ask this of you. It’s too much. It’s too risky. I don’t even know all the details—"
“The only one at risk right now is you. You’re my sister. I’ll be there to help you get ready and I want to see you walk out of there in one piece. Maybe I’ll even come inside with you. Afterward, I’ll come back to New York. As much as I despise Vincent, I love you more. If you’re gonna do this, I’m there.”
We leave the apartment together, taking the emergency steps to the lobby. The street corner is quiet. Minutes later, a black Escalade pulls up to the curb.
Janelle takes my hand and squeezes three times—our version of a promise. The tinted window opens. “Eve?” The driver’s eyes dart from Janelle to me.
Without replying, Janelle opens the back door and climbs inside; I step in right behind her and shut it with a forceful slam.
24
VINCENT
When I come to, I find myself on my knees in a dark and rank holding cell. My black T-shirt sticks to my skin, heavy and cold with salty sweat.
Moving my arms proves impossible; I seem to be connected to the wall behind me—the cuffs and chains feel like hard iron as I try to maneuver myself. I attempt to tug and pull with all my might—but the handcuffs bite into my wrists, making me cringe. I stop, knowing it’s useless. A lesser man may yell or scream, but not me. Licking my cracked and dry lips, I wait patiently for whomever it is to show himself.
Sometime later, the light flips on, temporarily blinding me. I want to cower from the brightness, but instead, straighten my spine. My knees cramp from the position, but I show nothing but strength. A group of men in identical leather vests saunter into the cell, the door shutting behind them when none other than Crow steps up to where I’m kneeling. I come face to face with his legs, covered in tattered blue jeans.
“Welcome to hell, Borignone. No crew to back you now. No fists, either.” He grabs the roots of my hair and pulls upward until our eyes lock. His pupils dilate from excitement.
His jaw is still fucked up, courtesy of me from the prison yard. I try not to smirk.
“What do you want?” My voice is firm. I may be tied up and at his mercy, but I’ll never show weakness. There are some things I can’t unlearn; being unshakeable in the face of a threat is one of them.
“What do I want?” he repeats mockingly, shaking his head to his crew like I just asked the most ridiculous question on earth. As though it’s happening in slow motion, he turns toward me and strikes his black boot straight into my stomach. I double over, but my chains keep me from collapsing.
Leather vests surround me—a move meant to intimidate. There is no longer a doubt that these men want my blood and suffering. But to what end? Information? Death?
“The question is, Vincent, why did your father call me a few days ago, requesting I kill you?”
Before I can process his words, his fist rears back and slams into my face once. Twice. Three times. My pain thresho
ld heightens—brass knuckles. I can feel the warm blood pouring thickly down my face. I blink, trying to replay what I heard amidst the physical agony.
“Men like you have no goddamn morals. No code of ethics,” he shouts close to my ear, spraying spit into my beaten face. “When we’re done with you, MOTHERFUCKER, you’ll wish you had your father to answer to instead of us. Your time is up.” He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet.
“The fact that I hate your guts and get to torture you before I kill you?” His laugh is slow and maniacal as he lifts his head to stare at the ceiling. “Bonus,” he cries, his voice echoing around the small room. It doesn’t take long for my eyes to swell shut. Darkness.
I hear the flick of a lighter before the smell of cigarettes hits my nose.
The hard butt of a gun slams across my face and more blood flows into my mouth.
I can feel music somewhere above; the bass pounds into the ceiling. I’m pushed forward until my arms are splayed straight. What feels like a hundred heavy boots begin kicking my back until I can barely inhale; my ribs are cracked.
The men pause, seemingly to take a break. Someone unceremoniously unchains me, and I crumble onto the cold ground. Her name pounds its way into my head. Eve. She’s my life. Maybe my father will arrange to have her taken, too. I’m not afraid of my own death. But, I am afraid of hers. The idea of her dying is enough to take away my strength. Since I met her, she is the one who gives order to my life. Eve is stability amidst chaos.
I keep myself still, focusing my thoughts. “Please, Eve, forgive me. For everything I’ve done. Jesus, keep her safe.” Nowhere other than with Eve have I ever felt peace.
I hear a zipping sound. My breath hitches as I feel a body step in front of me. I try to cling to the picture of her face, but my brain muddles from what is to come. She’s sobbing in my arms after we made love on the floor of my office. Something slams down onto my knee—the crack shocks me until I see stars behind my eyes. I want to tell Eve not to cry, but she can’t hear me. She’s detaching. Am I screaming?
Redemption (Vincent and Eve #3) Page 15