Under the Influence: A Second Chance Mafia Romance

by Nikki Belaire

  They won't understand this impromptu marriage even once they know the truth. A truth I'm not even sure I can share, lest they be disappointed as well as more fearful of him and my decision. I've never been impulsive. Never irresponsible or impetuous. Now they'll think I'm all three. Rather than the normal conscientious and sensible woman they're used to. Instead, I’m letting go of that image to do what makes me truly happy. Believing in Gio and trusting myself.

  Deep down I know that’s what they want – for me to be happy. They’ll see that I am – we are – and with every passing holiday and birthday and baptism Gio will become more and more a part of the family. I stroke down the luxurious champagne silk draping across my stomach and hips. If you’re really in there little baby, know how loved and wanted you already are.

  A quick knock pulls me out of my thoughts. The door opens before I can answer, and a chill runs through me. Gio’s men would have more respect than to surprise me. Never risking the chance I could still be dressing.

  “We’re ready Miss Anderson.”

  A man I don’t recognize fills the doorway. Speaking to me with a gruff voice although his smile seems sincere. His suit is crisp just like Gio demands. His hair neatly trimmed and shoes polished to a shine. But unease coils in my stomach from the scorpion tattoo peeking out of his collar. Gio’s men never have visible marks on them like that.

  Nodding to him, I ignore the goosebumps sprinkling over my bare arms. I’m just nervous. Today is my wedding day after all. “Okay, thank you.”

  I clutch my bouquet of blue tulips wrapped in Mrs. Gibson's silk scarf. Taking care of something borrowed and something blue. My grandmother's diamond earrings something old and my dress and shoes something new. Gio's band on my thumb. Ready to go. Eager to go.

  He steps back as I pass by and another guard falls next to me. Not quite touching yet only a hair’s breath away. Similar in clothes and demeanor as the man on my right. I sneak a quick glance and my heart races from the same ink on the side of his neck. Mimicking the man who came for me.

  They’re leading me toward the back of the church but Tucker isn’t waiting. Another unfamiliar man stands alert. The matching symbol on his throat. Part of the same gang. Or family. Not Gio’s family. Not Gio's men.

  Scanning the area over and over, he searches for something or someone. The pounding in my chest burns to my throat. Something’s so horribly wrong. Unable to keep up with their long strides, I pause. Needing to stop this. Needing to keep a massacre from occurring.

  Angry fingers dig into my trembling arm. "Come on bitch. No changing your mind now."

  Bitch.

  Gio would never talk to me like that. Gio would never allow his employees to talk to a woman like that. His grip only squeezes tighter when I twist away and the man on the other side grabs me too. Wincing from pain and fear and shame that I can't do anything to protect myself. Or Gio. Not even standing under my own power any more from them dragging me closer to the vestibule.

  The man in front of us nods and the world spins around me. Their arms raise, the candle lights casting shadows and golden reflections on the metal in their hands as the heavy, wooden doors slowly slide open. My handsome Gio, proud and tall in his tuxedo, stands surrounded by white and red poinsettias in silver vases, waiting with Father Martin at the end of the short aisle. Waiting for me. Waiting for our life together to begin. Not expecting to be gunned down. Never anticipating an ambush.

  My voice chokes in my throat, and I shake my head. More pain than I ever could have imagined stabs my heart when the smile fades off his face. He thinks I’ve changed my mind. I have to alert him. Warn him of the real danger. Straining against the fists holding me, I lunge toward him and scream his name. Unable to reach him. The realization of our attack becomes apparent from the rage darkening his face. Gunshots ring out. Chairs topple. Men yell. But one sound pierces through all of the commotion. Gio screaming mine back to me.

  "Fuck!"

  Tucker! Gio’s best friend races toward us. The man guarding the door yelps and drops to his knees. Tucker’s fingertips brush my wrist. Lunging to grab me. I stretch toward him too. Desperate to reach him. But I lose him as he flails backward from the explosion to his chest. No!

  Crimson splatters on my gown, and I'm dragged down the corridor. We're running. Away from Gio. Away from the ceremony. Away from everything I wanted and may be losing.

  I'm thrown forward from a force behind me. Tangling in the heavy fabric around my feet. Dead weight pinning me to the floor. Dampness seeping from his chest to my back. Agony burning in my leg from a sickening snap of bone. Terror raging through my shattered heart.

  Harsh hands yank me out from under the huge body slumped over mine. Rough carpet scratches my arms. Smearing scarlet down my raw skin.

  Curled against a hard chest, I fight the nausea rolling in my belly. The throbbing in my ankle worsening from the wild bouncing of our race down the hall lined with floor to ceiling multi-colored windows. Glass shatters, and we stride through the shards. Crossing a patch of winter dead grass to the black SUV parked on the side street.

  Without a single word, he tosses me into the back seat. I can't hold back the sob from the torture to my mangled body. Sliding across the floor mats as the vehicle jerks hard, lifting and bottoming out from zooming across something uneven under the tires.

  After a few seconds the ride smooths. Still barreling forward but in a seemingly straight path. I swallow down the vomit threatening to burst into my mouth and hoist myself up onto the cushion. Swaying from the fire blazing through my mutilated bone. From the fear of where we're going and what we've left behind.

  Dark tinted windows obscure the view. Keeping anyone from seeing me. Finding me while we blast along the interstate. I turn away from my reflection in the glass. Unwilling to face the blood –Tucker’s blood – staining my cheeks. Strands of hair hanging haphazardly around my face. Disheveled, but not from Gio the way I expected.

  I gingerly cup my hands under my thigh and lift my aching leg onto the bench. Blowing out deep breaths to ride through the searing pain. Swollen bigger than a grapefruit, my ankle curves at a distorted angle. I fight the tears welling up in my eyes. The sob bubbling in my throat. I don't think I've ever been more afraid. Not sure what I'm going to do.

  Except give up.

  Gio and I have been given a second chance, and I'm not losing him or Tucker again.

  We slow, turning onto the long driveway of a country property. Lined with bare trees as stark as the rolling hills on each side. He parks in front of a gray brick estate. Simple elegance highlighted by white shutters and broad black slate stairs. My pulse pounds through my skin. Leighton's mom stands on the bottom step. They've taken her too. Just like Gio feared. Punishing him by hurting the people we care about.

  I punch against the buttons in the side console but nothing happens. The window remains up. The door stays locked. The panic continues to explode. I can't warn her.

  The guard fills my view, and he yanks the door open. Straining to call to her, I battle against the man who reaches for me. Fist curls around my wrists, preventing me from inflicting any damage to him.

  "Run Patti! Go! Get out of here!"

  "Be careful! That's my future daughter in law!"

  Anger floods her voice. Rather than the gracious, friendly tone I'm familiar with. The man's grasp loosens, cautiously sliding me out of the back. Obeying her orders. Following her commands. As if she's not a victim.

  As if...she's the boss.

  Daughter in law?

  I can barely wrap my head around her label of me with the black spots invading my vision as the man carries me up the steps. Consuming all my energy to fight the darkness tempting me to give in and escape from being so cold and weak and broken.

  He hustles through the foyer, following her quick steps on the marble. Just like Gio's house. Our house. That I may never get back to.

  "What happened? You had strict orders not to hurt her. Only Trivoli was supposed to
die."

  Gio? Gio was supposed to die?

  "It was an accident. They clipped Johnson, and he fell on her. She probably needs to see a doctor."

  "You think?" Her head shakes with an irritated disgust, and she points to a cream chase lounge. "Put her down there."

  Misery pours through my body from him lowering me to the cushion. Squeezing my eyes shut against the bed spinners engulfing me. Once the room slows, I blink and meet her gaze. Fury blazing in hers. "I don't understand. Why are you doing this?"

  She leans closer. Her hand resting on the smooth upholstery. Dangerously close to my writhing injury. "Because you're supposed to marry Leighton."

  I clench the divan arms, keeping myself from tipping over. "He dumped me."

  "Yes, but now he wants you back. And that's what you told him at the party. You still want to be with him."

  I can't catch my breath. As if I've been running instead of laying here. Trapped in this nightmare for too long. “I changed my mind."

  Fingers wrap around my ankle and I jerk off the lounger in torture from her crushing grip. "Then change it back."

  She floats in front of me. Somehow closer and farther away at the same time. A cruel smile mocking me. Choking me with her rich orchid scent burning my nose. "Please Patti. I need help."

  "You need to marry my son."

  "I-I c-can't." The words stumble in my chattering teeth. Suddenly freezing with a quivering I’m unable to control. "I'm…"

  "I can make the pain go away. Is that what you want? Do you want me to help you feel better?"

  God yes. I can't even think straight I’m in so much misery. "Please..."

  Icy fingers yank down my chin and something hard and small slides between my teeth. Bitter and chalky on my tongue. A glass shoves against my lips.

  "Swallow."

  Not like I have any choice, or I'll drown from the liquid flooding my mouth. I gulp and gulp, water pouring down my face and onto my chest, until she finally tips the cup back. Cold. It's so cold, and I can't stop shivering. Can't wipe away the excess moisture. Can't keep my eyes open. Can't do anything but wait for the relief.

  Hardness invades my mouth again. More water. More drowning. The pills slice like razor blades down my throat as I’m forced to swallow. Three? Four? I don't know why she's giving me so many. I don't know what she's doing to me. I don’t why I can’t move. Pulled under by a muddy current I can’t fight anymore, I know I’m going to die.

  "Just say it Chryseis."

  Leighton.

  Here.

  Whispering in my ear. Urging me to say something.

  "Just say 'I do' and you can go back to sleep."

  I don't want to go to sleep. I want to go home. I want to go where Gio is. Warm hands clutch my arms. Shaking me. Soft at first. But then harder. So rough. My head bobs from the force. I try to swallow but film coats my tongue, thick and heavy. Unable to utter the words he demands.

  Hands cover mine. Curling my fingers around a stick. Dragging across paper before my arm flops down again to the softness.

  "You need to consummate the marriage."

  Patti.

  Yelling in my ear. Urging me to do something.

  Cold air wafts over my bare thighs. My dress lifts higher and higher. I try to kick but can’t lift my legs. My body resisting me as much as I’m resisting her. Fighting her tight hands gripping my shoulders. Keeping me immobile. This can't be real. "No! No!"

  "I'll hold her down if I have to Leighton."

  “God mom no. I can't do that."

  "Damn it Leighton. You have to. Just hurry up and stick your cock in that girl’s pussy and fuck her."

  Arguing. So much yelling. So much anger. So much I can’t understand. Except fear.

  "Come here Baxter. You can fuck her then."

  "Yes ma'am." A cruel chuckle drifts above me as I'm restrained. Blurry and dim, but I swear he hulks over me. "Happy to."

  "Get the fuck away from my wife."

  Wife? I’m supposed to be Gio’s wife.

  "Somebody just fuck this girl. Then he won't want her any more. She'll be damaged goods. Used and worthless to him."

  Not worthless. Pain roughens Patti's voice. As if speaking from experience. For some reason now she wants me punished too.

  “Shit! He’s here!”

  Footsteps pound across the floor. A crash rumbles from far away. Bright lights burn behind my heavy lids.

  “How is that possible? They were supposed to kill him! Why isn’t he dead?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Get her! We’ve got to go!”

  Fuck the driveway. My team races a convoy of SUVs through the yard. A line of defense so solid no one will get between or around us. Especially this stupid son of a bitch. Rory skids to a stop in front of the house and rage boils through me so fucking hard I shake.

  Too many fucking enemies, and fuck me if it's not that stupid motherfucker racing across the lanai. Holding my girl. Flanked by two of the fucking animals who stole her from me. Each of them fire off a few rounds, but are easily dropped by my guys. Outnumbered ten to one. Never fucking under estimate me. I am the fucking king. I come to play, and I always fucking win.

  The sharpshooters are fucking skilled to pop the bastards without injuring her. Or the cocksucker who carries her. The only saving grace keeping him alive and my head from exploding is I know he won't kill her. Not when he wants her for himself. But what he’s too ignorant too realize is once I get her back, nothing will save him. There is no mercy for him. He will die from my hand.

  I fly out of the vehicle. No need to even reach for my gun. My men are already trained on him. Ready to end him once she's safe. “Put her down carefully motherfucker."

  Some crazy bitch slams the door open and rushes out. Stupid and reckless with the massive firepower aimed in her direction. Waving a paper in the air. That I don't give a damn about.

  "Don't you dare give him your wife Leighton." She shakes the certificate toward me. A stupid smirk smears across her evil face. That she thinks I give two fucks for. “They're married. The proof's right here. Official and consummated."

  Consummated.

  Bile lurches in my stomach from the fury engulfing me. Fucking rapist. His death will be slow and agonizing for even thinking he could touch her and still survive. I slide out my glock, firing off a shot. Right through her fucking proof. She shrieks and falls back on her scrawny ass in fear. “Get her the fuck out of her before I kill her too."

  Freddie rushes forward and grabs her by the arms. But she fights him as he jerks her to her feet. Actually fucking foolish to think she can battle a man twice her size.

  “Don't you know who my father is?”

  What in the actual fuck? I don’t care about her or her father. Lucky’s she a woman, or I would cap her in a heartbeat. “No and I don’t give a rat's ass who your Daddy is.”

  Her chin lifts in a misguided defiance. “It's Anthony Carpucci."

  The Scorpion? Woman really is nuts. Tony’s been dead for ten years. I would fucking know because I’m the one who fucking killed him. And this chick must be his whack job daughter who’s been in and out of treatment centers for years. Never able to break through the heady haze of an acid, coke, and meth cocktail still controlling her. I heard she'd been permanently locked up after she flipped out when her husband left her.

  “You think you’re the only one with money and power but you’re not. We used to own this city, and we will again. Leighton and Chryseis will rule it. I will make sure of that.”

  Despite my rage, I actually chuckle. Scanning the bodies of her dead soldiers. She must have already forgotten about the two other slaughtered bastards they left behind at the church. “And how in the fuck do you plan to do that? You got nothing. We wiped out your men, and Chryseis is mine. She’ll fucking rule by my side. I’m for damn sure of that.”

  "You don't–"

  I'm tired of listening to her bullshit. Because it’s her son who should have stopped her
. And protected Chryseis when he knew his Mom had lost her shit again. Any man who claims to love a woman and abuses her deserves to die. “Get her out of here." Ignoring her thrashing and screaming, I shift my attention as well as my aim to him. "I will blast your fucking head off if you don’t give her to me.”

  “Okay. Okay.”

  Fear doesn’t sound in his voice. Instead shame as hollow as the pain on his face rings out. He steps forward slowly, showing his deference to my demand, and I holster my gun. Pure defeat drooping his body as I lift her out of his arms and into mine. “Chryseis?”

  Sweat covers her freezing skin. Clammy and shivering, while she mumbles words I can’t make out. "Come on angel. Wake up."

  I jerk toward him. Standing there like the sad sorry motherfucker he is. "What'd you give her?"

  Cocksucker doesn’t answer. “I said, ‘what the fuck did you give her’?"

  He flinches from my scream. Finally looking up from the concrete. "My mom. She did it. Painkillers. Too many for her size."

  Fuck! She's overdosing. Her head lolls against my shoulder. I lost my mother to that shit. I'm sure as hell not losing her too. Not enough time to get her to the hospital. I have to get this garbage out of her. “I'm sorry Books but I've got to."

  As gentle as I can, I sit her on the step, propping her against my bent knee to keep her upright. I cup her mouth and jam my fingers to the back of her throat. Pushing down and deep. Her body twitches. Resisting the intrusion. Arching to fight the invasion. Until the gurgling in her stomach grows angrier. The gagging against my palm too fierce to stop. Finally wetness covers my hand. I lean her forward as the fluid streams between her lips. Three huge wretches before a few last dry heaves. She moans and collapses back against me. Her stomach finally empty. Thank God. Thank fucking god. I kiss the top of her beautiful head. Never more grateful for anything than this moment.