by Stone, M. T.
“Her family was his primary supplier, so it was a marriage of necessity.” She sighs. “My mother paid the ultimate price for his success.”
“What happened?” I ask, assuming her mother had passed.
“Dad’s doctor kept prescribing pills to combat her depression,” she says with a crack in her voice. “One night, she took the whole bottle before going to bed. I found her the next morning.” The tears begin to flow in earnest, rolling down both cheeks.
“I’m so sorry. How old were you?”
“Fourteen,” she whispers through the tears. I continue to hold her tightly, allowing her to soak my shoulder with what appear to be long-held tears. “He destroyed our lives,” she struggles to say, still overwhelmed by tears. “That’s why I want the business. Turning it over to Eduardo would be the final blow.”
I can actually feel tears welling up in my own eyes, now understanding what’s at stake. “I will help you any way I can. Just let me know what needs to be done.”
“Thank you,” she gasps, squeezing me hard. “Somehow, I knew I could count on you.”
“Maybe you read in my file that I have a thing for curvy Latino-Italian women?” I joke in an attempt to lighten the mood.
“No, I just got lucky on that one,” she replies with a giggle. “For years, I was so angry that I actually wanted to kill my father, but now I just want what is his. But if he chooses Eduardo over me, I think I’ll have to kill them both.”
“I would be afraid if I were them,” I respond, witnessing firsthand the hatred in her eyes. “Jilted family members can be the most formidable adversaries.”
“You have no idea,” she seethes.
* * *
It’s six o’clock and the suspect is still at large. The spread that Jacques has whipped up eases the tension momentarily, but the thought of not finding who attacked us keeps coming back to haunt me. Just as the food is being served, a friendly face comes bouncing through the door. Tiny is back.
“After scanning me from my lips to my asshole, they finally let me out of there,” he jokes as he approaches our table. “I think they were milking me for all they could get.”
“Well, after going through a blast like that, I’m sure there’s a lot of potential for damage. Good to see you, bud.” I reach out my hand to slap his. “Felix is doing better?”
“Yeah, he was giving me shit before I left so he’ll be fine.”
“That’s good. Grab a seat. This stuff looks amazing.” I shove out a chair, inviting him to join us. “Of course, you are probably full from all of that good hospital food.”
“Oh yeah, that green Jell-O really hits the spot.” He laughs.
My phone rings and it’s Sandman. “Tell me something I want to hear,” I tell him, hoping for good news.
“We’ve got him, Boss.” I can tell by the tone of his voice that he actually has him in his possession. “You want me to bring him over?”
“Yes. Is he cuffed or anything?” I ask, not wanting to give him any chance of getting away.
“Fuck yeah, the dude is cuffed and stuffed. Got a deuce deuce in his ear, so he ain’t goin’ nowhere.” He snorts.
“All right, lets put the word out for everyone to gather up. I’ll let the chief know that you guys won the prize.” A grin crosses my face as I hang up with him. I knew from the beginning that if anyone brought him in, it would be those guys. As a group, all those eyes and ears know exactly what’s going on out there. “See, that’s why it pays to have them on our side,” I tell Victoria, gloating a bit.
“I’m impressed,” she admits, pulling up her phone to send a text message. “Dad claimed ignorance on this whole deal, but he always knows what’s going on behind the scenes.” She finishes sending a hastily written text, which I assume is letting him know that we’ve caught the guy.
“So, do you think this had something to do with the Irishman?” I ask, despite her earlier assurances.
“At this point, I have no idea.” She narrows her eyes and sets her phone face down on the table. “If he’s Irish, that’ll be a clue, I guess.”
“That Victor threw you under the bus?” I can’t imagine him doing that to his only daughter.
“He has a way of always twisting things,” she replies. “In his mind, he’s probably doing me a favor by cutting me out of the loop. Either that or he’s still pissed that I’m down here.”
“He didn’t want you to help me?”
“Hell, no!” She throws her head back in laughter. “I was supposed to find a way to get rid of you, then Eduardo could take control of your crew. When he found out that I had ulterior motives, it was either him or Ed that got in touch with the Irishman.”
“Fuckin’ Irishman,” Tiny comments between mouthfuls.
“Well, at least we’ve survived the first wave,” she replies. “We might just prove to him that I’m worthy of leading The Syndicate in spite of his shenanigans.”
“Shenanigans?” I snort. “Now there’s a word I haven’t heard in years. I think my third grade teacher was probably the last one who used it.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet you were full of shenanigans in third grade.” She narrows her eyes. “Now eat your dinner. You’ll need your strength.”
All I can do is smile and shake my head. She is so damn cute, and yet, I know that beneath her beauty beats the heart of a tiger. It’s obvious to me that she would be the perfect person to head The Syndicate—with my help, of course. Her father must not know her very well if he is in doubt of her abilities.
Victoria
As people begin filing into the club, I can tell that Devon is getting a little anxious since the Sandman hasn’t shown up with the detainee yet. Even though he seems glad that it was the gangbangers who caught up with him, he seems a bit unsure as to whether they will get him here in one piece. He is so intent on making an example of this guy so it sends a strong message throughout the ranks. He nods to me and his eyes light up as a white panel van passes the front window. He then hits the safe behind the bar to retrieve his revolver. Within a minute, Sandman and Razor come bursting through the door with a fair-skinned redhead in tow.
“He looks pretty goddamn Irish to me,” Devon fumes before taking the stage. “Bring him up here,” he says, spinning the cylinder of his revolver for the gathering crowd. “We’re going to get to the bottom of this shit right now.”
“You can’t expect me to just stand by if you’re thinking of turning this into an old-fashioned lynching,” police chief Evans pipes up, approaching the stage.
“You’re welcome to stay or leave,” Devon responds with a venomous hiss. “It’s your choice.”
Chief Evans stands there for a second or two, biting his lower lip before taking a seat in the front row. This is Devon’s score to settle, and things will be going down exactly how he wants them to go. The handcuffed prisoner is handed over, and Devon leads him to the center of the stage. A hush falls over the crowd as they take their seats and wait for him to speak.
“Is there evidence that this is the man who strapped a car bomb to my SUV?” he asks, cutting right to the chase.
“Yes,” Razor says, beating Sandman to the punch. “My cousin recorded it on his new iPhone 7 so it’s crystal clear. He’s your guy. You can check it out for yourself.”
“Who sent you, son?” Devon asks, flopping open the cylinder of his revolver to show the young man the single bullet resting inside. The man’s eyes dart back and forth between Devon and the crowd. He then looks over at me as I begin streaming the scene using Facetime on my phone. This is the type of footage that will convince my father that I have found a worthy associate. The man remains silent, so Devon spins the cylinder before placing it to the man’s head. “I’m giving you one last chance. Who sent you?”
The young man shakes his head just slightly as a large bead of sweat trails its way down the center of his forehead. “I acted alone,” he states in a thick Irish accent.
“Really? This wasn’t retaliation for my taking o
ut the Irishman?” Devon asks, pushing the muzzle of the gun against the side of his head.
“No, sir.”
Devon pulls the trigger, and the snap of the hammer causes the guy to drop to his knees. “Get up!” Devon tugs on his arm but he stubbornly remains seated. Tiny gets up and joins Devon on stage, lifting the man’s other arm, forcing him to stand. Devon opens the cylinder and inserts a second bullet on the opposing side before spinning it and slapping it closed. He cocks the hammer and asks the man again. “Your final chance. Who sent you?”
The young man looks directly at me. I can see the man’s lip trembling through the screen on my phone. There’s a look of utter fear in his eyes and his forehead is now shimmering with beads of sweat. He knows that Devon is serious. He knows that he has reached the end of the road. Both of the man’s lips begin to quiver violently as he begins to speak. “There is only one person whom I answer to.” He looks out into the crowd.
“Who is it?” Devon grits his teeth together, wanting an answer.
“The only one I—” His answer is cut short by the sound of the Plexiglas window behind me being blasted from its frame, immediately followed by a literal explosion within the young man’s chest. The man collapses between Devon and Tiny as the bullet ricochets off the brick wall behind them.
“Oh, my God.” The words fall from my lips as I lower my phone. I glance at the screen and see the grimace on my father’s face. I have to wonder if this young man was somehow under his control. If so, I probably just hastened his death. I click the power button without saying a word.
“Are you guys okay?” I run to the stage where both Tiny and Devon are splattered with blood.
“What the fuck was that about?” Devon’s eyes turn dark as he stares at me intently. “Did you have something to do with this?” He turns back toward the crowd and looks toward the window that was shot out. He traces back to the bullet mark on the wall. Crouching down, he quickly assesses the angle. “Chief Evans, get every man you’ve got over to that parking garage just down the block. That’s where the shot came from.”
“Yes, sir,” he says with a sigh. “We’ll get right on it.”
It’s already too late, but I’m not going to say anything. That shot was most likely taken from the back window of an SUV and the shooter is already two stop lights away from the scene. This one won’t be hanging around like the last one did. That’s the only part that doesn’t make any sense to me. Why was this guy still hanging around town? That’s not a mistake my father would make unless he wanted him to get caught for some reason. None of it makes any sense.
Chapter 10
Devon
The fact that Victoria was streaming a video to her father at the time that the subject was taken out isn’t sitting well with me. In fact, things were going just fine around here before she showed up, claiming to be saving me from the Irishman. It makes me wonder whether this was all a setup. He and I weren’t on the best of terms, but I can’t imagine he was going to try to kill me in my own club. That would’ve been suicide on his part. Then they send a lone soldier to retaliate who places a car bomb and hangs around until he gets caught? That makes no sense either. Things are just getting stranger by the day.
“Are you accusing me of something?” Victoria asks, sauntering up to me after a mass exodus from the club. “You think I’m here to hurt you? Even though I’ve asked for your help? I told you what I’m up against and what’s at stake.”
“I don’t know what to think, but if nothing else, you appear to be attracting plenty of chaos,” I reply, trying to read her eyes. “You admitted that our worlds were intertwined and that I was causing problems for your father. Maybe he’ll turn over the keys to the kingdom if you eliminate me.”
“If that were the case, why wouldn’t I have taken you out the other night when I had the chance?” she asks, seductively slipping her arms around me. “You are way too sexy to be turned into a corpse. I would much rather have you as my partner in crime.”
“Okay, but if I’m going to help you, we’re going to play by my rules from here on out,” I tell her, looking her straight in the eyes. “There will be no more streaming videos to your father and no antagonizing mafia members.”
“So what am I supposed to do?” She sighs, reminding me of a bored teenager.
“Let’s focus on how we can get your father’s spot,” I reply. “What do you have to do to convince him that you can handle it?”
“I was supposed to neutralize you,” she says with a smirk before pressing her cheek against my chest and giving me a squeeze.
“Well, at least now you’re being honest. That’s a start.” Unfortunately, my gut instincts are confirmed. “So you’ve been behind all of this?”
“No,” she scoffs, pulling away from me. “My father sent me down here to take you out, but after you passed the test with the Irishman, I knew I could trust you.”
“So the Irishman was a test?”
“He was. But he was also someone you needed to deal with.” She narrows her eyes. “You had been procrastinating and allowing them to gain a foothold. This has been Sicilian controlled territory for almost a century. You have to respect territorial rights, especially long-standing ones.”
“So, the fact that I was allowing an opposing group in pissed off Victor?” I speculate, and it makes perfect sense.
“You think?” she replies sarcastically. “I thought that the fact that you rescued me and killed him yourself would be enough to make amends.”
“But it obviously wasn’t.”
“I don’t know. This whole thing with the car bomb and this sniper hit don’t seem like Dad.” She jumps up onto the stage and walks over to the damaged brick in the back wall. “This divot was made by something like a 762 NATO round. It’s something that a close-range military or police sniper would use. That’s not Dad’s style. He would’ve hit from ten blocks away and it would’ve left a hole in the wall the size of your fist.”
“Victor likes to make a statement,” I agree, knowing his reputation.
“He believes in keeping an ultra-low profile and punching as hard as possible. So if this were him, it would’ve been a long-range shot with a fifty caliber. It would’ve come in at a forty-five-degree angle, not thirty, and it would’ve made a spectacular mess.” She glances over at the young man’s body. “Whoever did this wasn’t making a statement. He just wanted him silenced.”
“You were the only one streaming the action.” I persist with my earlier line of thinking.
“But there were more than a hundred others in the room. Any one of them could’ve sent a text message,” she huffs defiantly. “Can you honestly say that you trust everyone who was here? You have a roomful of dirty cops, corrupt politicians, and gangbangers, for Christ’s sake. If I were involved, don’t you think I would’ve been a little more discreet? I stood in the front of the room holding my phone in the air.” She looks at me with complete disbelief.
“Good point.” I hadn’t really thought about that. I’m just becoming a little paranoid from being so close to people who are being taken out. That sniper could’ve just as easily shot me, which makes me believe that whoever is behind this is simply trying to scare me or toy with me. Either way, it’s starting to piss me off. What they don’t realize is that when my back is forced up against a wall, I dig deep and use every ounce of strength to retaliate. “I think I could learn a few things from you and your father,” I add. “A low profile and a big punch. I like that.”
“There’s a reason The Syndicate has been so successful,” she replies. “You and he have a very similar management style. So if you adopt that part of his philosophy, we can inherit the empire.”
“I want to inherit the empire, but first, I want to get out of here,” I give her a smile, reaching for her hand. “Tiny, will you grab the piece of plywood from behind the bar and patch up the blown-out window again?”
“Sure, Boss,” he replies, walking over to us. “I had to wash off all that blo
od first. After this week, I think I’m going to need a raise.”
“If things go the way I want them to, we’ll send you and Felix through training that rivals that of the secret service,” Victoria answers for me. “If you pass, we’ll double your salary.”
“Sounds good!” he replies with a chuckle. “I like her!”
“Yeah, she’s growing on me too,” I tease, giving her a one-armed squeeze. “By the way, I’m going to make this whole place level-ten compliant. This will be an impenetrable fortress when I’m done with it.”
“Good to hear,” she replies, giving me a hip check and lighting up in a way that few women would. I smile at the thought of her being turned on by level-ten ballistic reinforcement. This is definitely my kind of woman. My mind spins, trying to evaluate whether Victoria has anything to do with the occurrences of the week. She initiated the incident with the Irishman—that much I know for sure. It’s hard to say whether the car bomb and sniper had anything to do with her. There really is no way to determine her level of involvement.
Two EMTs show up with a gurney to take our dead guest to the morgue, so it’s time for us to depart the scene. Tiny will take care of the window and my crew will get the mess cleaned up before they leave. Glancing down at her legs as she gets into the car, I’m willing to give her the benefit of the doubt for now.
Victoria
It’s often said that everything happens for a reason. I’ve always thought of that as a way for the weak to be able to shrug off the consequences of poor decisions, but after this week, I’m starting to believe it. In less than a week’s time, one of the toughest men in the country is coming around to the idea of being my partner, and now he’s convinced of turning this club into a fortress. With the right setup, the two of us will be invincible.
“If Eduardo is only a half-brother, wouldn’t it make sense to go visit your mother’s family in Colombia?” Devon asks after we settle into the limo that will take us back to his place. “Maybe we can have a backup plan for getting that high-grade coke just in case your father chooses Ed.”