by Amy Brent
Before he even saw me, I was on top of him. I used the baton I was carrying to hit him over the head – not badly enough to kill him, just bad enough to put him to sleep for a while. He was going to have a wicked headache when he woke up, but at least he was going to wake up. I quickly pulled his limp body behind the dumpster, stripped off his clothes and located the key to the truck in the pocket.
Now I looked like an employee of Domenicos. More or less. I pulled the hat down low over my face, trying to keep anybody from getting a good look at me. And then, with key in hand, I walked over to the truck, climbed in, and started it up.
As I rumbled away from the restaurant with my load of hot food, I thought that this had all been too easy. Not that I thought the entire mission would be that simple, but at least that part had gone off without a hitch. Made me feel like maybe luck was on my side and that I could get in, get Emelia, and get out again without too much of a problem.
Behind the wheel of the catering truck, I could just drive up and enter the premises, no questions asked. As long as no one recognized my face, I should be fine. At least, that's what I kept telling myself.
ooo000ooo
As expected, when I approached the gates, the guards just motioned me past without even giving me a second glance. Fools. I waved at them and they nodded back, not so much as looking at me as they carried on their conversation. I drove down the long, curved driveway until I saw the Antonelli mansion up ahead. I'd never personally seen it with my own eyes, so I was blown away by what I saw. It was as large as people had said it was, but it really was a beautiful, elegant home. It's just too bad it housed one of the biggest assholes on the planet.
As I pulled around the circular drive, I saw that there were at least a dozen men in dark suits – guards. And I had zero doubt believing that they were all armed. What worried me was that although I could see a dozen, I had a feeling there were just as many – if not more – I couldn't see. Getting in and out might not be nearly as easy as I'd hoped, but I'd find a way. I always did.
A guard motioned for me to stop the truck, so I complied. He walked up to the driver's side door, looking at me, and for a brief moment, I thought things were about to go sideways . I held my hand on my gun, well out of his sight – afraid that he might recognize me. The adrenaline was already coursing through my veins and my heart was hammering in my chest. I didn't want to fight right then and there, but I would if I had to.
“You're supposed to pull this piece of shit around back,” he said, pointing toward more driveway. “The kitchen is located back there. The staff will be back there to help you unload. Now, get going, you're running late already.”
Not wanting to speak – my accent was hard to hide – I simply nodded and did as I was told.
I pulled around back and shut the truck off. As I climbed from the truck, I unlocked the back where the food was, like I assumed a real employee would, and did my level best to act completely normal. A woman came up and started speaking to me in broken English, telling me – or at least, doing her best to tell me – where to take everything.
She was a tall, exotic looking woman and seemed a little to clean cut to be part of the kitchen staff. Plus, she wasn't wearing the uniform I saw some of the others buzzing around in, so I assumed she was probably in charge of the event. Probably a party planner or whatever it was they called those people who organized events like this.
Her phone rang and with an annoyed expression on her face, she walked inside with the phone pressed to her ear, yelling into the phone about something – but she was speaking Italian so I couln't understand a word she was saying. I just prayed it had nothing to do with the naked, unconscious driver I'd left behind the dumpster.
I knew I should have killed him and stashed his body somewhere it wouldn't be found, but Emelia had apparently made me soft. She'd started to dull the edge of what had made me so effective in the big seat of the Brotherhood. But the guy I'd clubbed was nothing more than a low-level catering employee. He was just a guy doing a job and was probably no relation to this God-awful family. Yet, he could be my undoing. Because I'd chosen to spare his life than do what needed to be done.
With a nervous knot in my stomach, I watched the woman on the phone carefully, looking for any sign that she knew I wasn't the real driver. And once she was inside the house, I stopped what I was doing and quickly rushed into the kitchen, a tray full of pasta in my hands. I pretended to be looking for somewhere to put it as I walked into the dining room, all the while keeping an eye on her – and an ear out for the sound of Antonelli's men approaching. My body was tense and the gun under my shirt pressed into my skin reassuringly as I watched and waited, ready for a fight if it came to that.
As I walked into the kitchen and saw the dining area beyond, my eyes grew wide when I saw the number of people in attendance. All of them dangerous. All of them powerful. And almost all of them would recognize me in a heartbeat.
Keep your head down, Deacon, I said to myself as I pushed my way through the crowd. I tried to keep an eye out for Emelia, but that was easier said than done. There were so many people that I could have walked right by and not been able to see her in the crowd.
“Over there!” The woman from earlier shouted. “Where are you going, idiot.”
She grabbed my shoulder and yanked me over to the buffet table. Her eyes were narrowed, her nostrils flared, and the pinched, sour expression on her face made her look like she'd just sucked on a lemon. Yeah, I bet she was a real peach to work for.
“The food goes here,” she said. “Were you not paying attention to what I said? Are you a moron or something?”
Having her in my face berating me was pissing me off and I wanted to get right back in her face. But I held myself in check. The last thing I needed was to cause a scene and draw unncessary attention to myself. The woman was annoying as hell, but at least I knew they hadn't found the other driver yet.
She walked away, and I heard her say, “Mr. Antonelli, the food is arriving, do you want to make your announcement soon?”
I turned, following the sound of her voice and I saw old man Antonelli standing next to Tony. They both looked incredibly pleased with themselves as they stood there like best friends, with a glasses of wine in hand. I quickly looked away and pulled my hat a little lower, focusing my attention on the pasta I was sitting out on the buffet table. It was at that moment, somebody walked up and stood next to me.
“Excuse me,” they said, and I turned without thinking, finding myself face-to-face Neil.
Neil's eyes grew wide – as did my own – and I hissed, “Be quiet.”
“Deacon, it's – how did – ”
“Be quiet,” I said again, looking around to see if anyone was watching. “Have you seen Emelia?”
“She hasn't come down yet. Rumor has it, she's pissed off and is refusing,” Neil whispered, trying not to draw attention to himself as he spoke under his breath.
“So she's in her room?” I asked. “Do you know where that is?”
“Do I look like the type of person who knows where Emelia Antonelli's room is?”
Good point. I gave him a shrug and a weak smile.
“Now Neil, just walk away from me, okay? Just turn and leave, you hear me?” I said. “Don't you dare say a word about this to anyone. Nobody can know I'm here. Nobody, man. And I have a gun if things go south – I'll shoot my way out if needs be. But if things are cool, I'll slink out of here with Emelia and everything will be just fine. Got it?”
He nodded, but he was as pale as a ghost. “Yeah, sure. Got it.”
“Can I trust you?”
“Yes, Deacon,” he said. “You can trust me. Always.”
“Good boy,” I said, patting him on the shoulder.
As he turned and left, I knew it would be hard for Neil to stay quiet. He'd undoubtedly want to tell some of the Brohters I was there – the ones he perhaps mistakenly believed remained loyal to me. But I couldn't afford for him to breathe a word. I was left
to hope and pray that he would remain quiet about my presence there.
“Attention everyone,” Antonelli intoned, his voice raised to be heard above the crowd as he clinked his glass. “My daughter, the beautiful Emelia, might be under the weather this evening, but I know she appreciates each and every one of you for attending tonight. So, thank you one and all for being here.”
Yeah, I'm sure she really appreciates everybody being there on such a joyous occasion, I thought to myself. Given the old man's announcement I had to wonder if that meant she wasn't planning on coming down at all. If that were the case, slipping upstairs and finding her room could be a piece of cake.
I'd just started to get my hopes up for a quick, quiet exit, when the old man answered my question.
“My beautiful daughter will be making an appearance shortly,” he said, “but for now, the appetizers should be coming out shortly, so please, help yourself.”
Appetizers. A bolt of adrenaline shot through me as I realized that was on me – the food was my responsibility. As the crowd turned toward the buffet table, I quickly turned away, rushing off to the kitchen with my head down. I didn't hear any raised voices or anybody calling my name, so I breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that nobody had seen me.
“Where are the appetizers?” the woman – looking even angrier than before – demanded the moment I stepped into the kitchen.
I had to admit, I wanted to punch her in her fucking face right then and there and be done with her. Ordinarily, I would never let anybody talk to me like that. But this wasn't an ordinary situation and I had to just eat shit and feign a smile.
“They should have gone out before the pasta, you idiot,” she railed at me. “You have one job, moron. Seriously, one fucking job. And you can't even seem to get that right. Where are the others?”
That was a question I couldn't answer, so I just shrugged, content to let her figure it out on her own.
“Can't speak? Cat got your tongue?” she asked, her eyes growing even narrower, her face even more pinched. “My, they really are scraping the bottom of the barrel for decent help over there, aren't they?”
She picked up her phone and called someone and I heard her asking where the rest of the help was at. I walked back outside and looked over the trays until I found one label “apps.”
Grabbing it, I turned and looked up at the house, staring at the windows, trying to discern which room might be Emelia's. There was deck on the second floor that I thought could be Emelia's room. Maybe. There was a window that was partially open, and through it, I heard music. As I stared at it, I started to wonder – could that be it? There was a light on inside the room as well, meaning someone was in there. But there was no way to see if it was really her room or not.
“Hurry up, idiot!” The woman yelled from the kitchen door.
I resisted the urge to throw the food down and knock her out because I had to keep up the charade. I had to keep this act going until I got to Emelia. But if I had my way, one day, all of these crooked assholes would pay. And pay dearly for how they not only treated me, but for how they treated Emelia as well. And I would have my way. Every single one of these pricks was going to pay a price.
Emmy, I'm coming for you, I thought to myself as I carried the tray of food inside.
Deacon
Scowling, I put the appetizers down on the table and still saw no sign of Emelia. After tossing the food down, I slipped off to the side of the crowd, slowly but surely making my way to the hallway – and out of that room. There was nothing good for me in there. But I had to make my movements look natural and do everything I could to avoid drawing attention to myself.
But just as I slipped off into the hallway, I ran smack dab into one of Antonelli's men. Because of course, I did. If not for bad luck, I wouldn't have any luck at all.
“Where the fuck do you think you're going?” he said, his expression one of annoyance.
“I'm looking for a bathroom,” I said, trying to hide my Irish accent as much as possible. “I gotta take a piss.”
The man tilted his head to the side, trying to get a good look at my face, but I stared down at the ground, trying to look deferential instead of like I was hiding something.
“You a Brit or something?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” I said, my heart racing and my body tensing – it was entirely possible I was going to have to take this guy out if he didn't buy my act.
I was hoping this idiot couldn't tell the difference between a British accent and an Irish one. And I had to hope that he wouldn't mention our little encounter to anyone else. I sure was pinning a lot of my plans – not to mention, my life – on hopes and wishes.
He laughed, shaking his head, and said, “Bathroom is down on the left, boy. But don't let old man Antonelli catch you slacking off down there. He'll have your head.”
“Yes, sir,” I said again, biting any and all rage I had inside of me. “I'll get right back to work when I'm done.”
I hated being treated like a servant, like a piece of trash beneath even Antonelli's hired thugs. I could tolerate a lot of things in life, but disrespect was not one of them. But I had to check myself, suck it all down, and deal with it. For now. Because there was a bigger picture at stake – Emelia's life. And I couldn't risk letting my pride get in the way of saving Emmy.
The man walked away, not even bothering to look back at me. I was just another lowly working stiff not even worthy of his contempt, apparently. I walked slowly down the hallway toward the bathroom, and started to step inside. But then looked back behind me to see if the guard was still down there. But the hallway was empty now.
A little further down the hall was a staircase that led upstairs. I had a good feeling that Emmy's bedroom was up there. And I was thinking that it was probably the one with the lights on and the music playing loudly inside. Sounded like something she'd do – turn her music up loud enough to block out the sounds of everyone else downstairs. She was a defiant one, that was for certain, and was one of the biggest things that I admired about her. I loved her spirit and her spunk.
I kept my eyes peeled for more guards and slipped up the stairs as fast as I could, my hand on my gun just in case I ran into somebody watching the top. But as I stepped onto the second floor landing and looked around, I was relieved to find that it was empty. Everyone was apparently, downstairs. Thankfully so.
I slipped down the hallway toward the sound of music that was echoing around the corridor. It was a beautiful song, but not one I recognized. As I reached the doorway, I had footsteps – and voices – coming from the staircase behind me. Glancing around, I saw that there was another bathroom just down the hall from the room. Rushing to the open door, I quickly slipped inside and closed it enough that I could still see out through the crack. I just prayed they weren't coming upstairs to use the bathroom because the downstairs bathroom was occupied. That could be disastrous.
My jaw tightened and my eyes narrowed almost reflexively when I saw that it was old man Antonelli in the hallway. He was talking, softly, to someone. I couldn't make out who it was though. But then he knocked on the door loud enough to be heard over the music coming from inside.
“Emelia?” he called out. “Are you getting dressed?”
No answer from inside the room. But at least I knew I was at the right door, I just needed them to leave so I could get inside, grab Emelia, and get the hell out of there.
“You better get your dress on,” Antonelli said. “Everyone is waiting for you. It's very poor form to keep them waiting much longer.”
Again, no answer from inside the room – just the music.
“She'll come down eventually,” Antonelli said to whoever it was.
“You sure about that?” the voice asked.
It was the Italian woman from the kitchen who'd been barking orders at me earlier. The fact that Antonelli was talking to her like he was made me think that maybe she was more than just a party planner. But I had no idea who she was or what her part in t
his whole fiasco was.
“Even if she doesn't, the party will go on without her,” he said. “One way or another, the engagement will be announced along with the wedding date. If she chooses to not be part of the announcement party, so be it. It's not like she is going to have much of a choice when it comes to attending the wedding.”
I closed my eyes and felt my jaw clench tight as I listened to them talking about marrying my girl off to some scumbag. A scumbag I knew she wanted no part of. But I focused on the big picture, kepe my cool, and remained hidden, silently reminding myself to say calm and in control. I was this close to getting her out of there. We were that close to having the freedom to build our life together. All I needed was for the two assholes in the hallway to leave.
Their sudden silence made me open my eyes and look out into the hallway. They were gone. No footsteps, no more voices. Nothing but the beautiful music coming from Emelia's room. I opened the bathroom door and carefully looked up and down the hallway before stepping out of my hiding spot. I gingerly moved back down the hall and when I stood in front of her door, I knocked quietly. At first, I wasn't sure if she heard me, so I knocked again – a little louder the second time.
“Go away. I'm not coming down,” her voice called out. “Leave me the hell alone.”
As quietly as I could muster and still be heard, I said, “Emmy, it's me. Deacon – ”
I wasn't even finished with my sentence before the door flew inward and Emelia pulled me into her room, slamming the door behind us and kissing me like I had never been kissed before. It was a little breathtaking and dizzying, but it felt so good. So right. And I wanted that moment to last forever.