Reckoning (Vincent and Eve #2)

by Jessica Ruben

  I get in bed, pulling her under the covers with me. Checking the time, I see it’s after one in the morning.

  I want to wake her. Make love to her. Moving some hair away from her face, I can see her eyelids flutter; she’s back in a deep sleep. I move my lips to her ear. I know she can’t hear me, but I need to tell her anyway.

  “Eve,” I exhale, burrowing my nose behind her ear. “I want to take you to be my wife.” Kiss. “I want to have you and hold you.” Kiss. “From this day forward, for better, for worse.” Kiss. “For richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health.” Kiss. “Until death do us part.” Kiss. “I’m so sorry for what I’m about to do. Forgive me, baby. I love you so fucking much.” I fall asleep with my face buried in her coconut-scented hair, wishing things could be different, but knowing that come morning, I’ll be shattering her life, and mine.

  I wake up to pots and pans banging in the kitchen. I stand up and stretch for a moment before brushing my teeth. Washing up quickly, I can feel the clock ticking between my ears. I need to do this right away before I lose my nerve. This is about saving her and giving her the best possible life.

  “Hi.” I lean against the kitchen counter, arms folded across my chest. She’s fluttering around, opening and closing cabinets and flipping eggs like this place is her home.

  She beams at me. “You’re awake!”

  Is this the last time I’ll see her smile? I blink. “We have to talk. You’re skipping classes today.”

  Her large brown eyes squint in question. “What’s wrong? Is everything okay?” She pours an oversized mug full of black coffee and fills a plate with eggs. She tries to hand them to me, but I don’t take them from her.

  Gone is the Vincent with stars in his eyes. In a matter of one night, I’ve managed to drown my old self. Resurrected is the man who does nothing other than represent the toughest mafia in the country.

  “Do you know who I am?”

  “Of course I know who you are. But, you aren’t just one thing—”

  I cut her off. “That’s where you’re wrong. I’m always Vincent Borignone.”

  “I- I don’t understand.” Her gaze moves from my feet up to my eyes, finally taking in my hard demeanor. She steps back, dropping the plate and cup on the countertop. They clang against the marble and I clench my fists, trying to stay straight.

  “The Feds are coming after us. And I’m going to be taken in. Less than a week. I’m meeting with my lawyer tomorrow and we’ll probably meet with the FBI the day after.”

  “Taken in? B-but—”

  “I’m going to prison, Eve. Between seven to ten. Shit went down with Daniela and me after High and Low, and she ran to her father. He stalled a huge shipment. It all happened in tandem with a huge investigation into the ports by the FBI.” I clench my fists. “One of us needs to plead guilty to a lesser charge before they bring forward a RICO case, and I’m the one who is going to take the fall.”

  “N-no. No, Vincent. You can’t. It’s not possible.” I can see her pulse flutter in her neck.

  “I’ll be gone, and who knows what Daniela may do to you. You need to finish this year with your head down and leave for California like you originally planned.”

  “I don’t care about her. I’ll pull my applications and stay here with you. I only wanted to transfer because you were going to Nevada—”

  I huff, stopping her from continuing. “We’re finished, Eve. You wanna stay here and let Daniela ruin your life? Be my guest. She knows all about you, now. And it’s only a matter of time before she goes public about us.”

  “No.” She vehemently shakes her head. Her ponytail loosens, stray hairs falling in front of her face. I want to brush it out of her eyes, but I won’t. I can’t. “Forget her. I don’t care about her, Vincent!”

  I let out a hostile breath. “Do you know what I did a few weeks ago?” I step closer to her, my body language angry. “I personally took a knife to Rafa Vasquez’s throat. Slit him from here…to here.” I graze my middle finger across her beautiful narrow neck. “Then threw him off a boat myself. He’s a captain in the Cartel. You remember the Cartel, don’t you, baby?

  “They’ve been skimming some cocaine off our shipments. Their entire gang has a vendetta against me, now. And that’s just the beginning. We’ve spoken of who I am. What I do. But maybe you don’t remember, huh?” I keep my hands loose around her throat, but still tight enough that she knows who’s in control. “When Daniela tells the world about you, who do you think is gonna come knocking on your door? The Cartel. And where will I be? Behind bars.”

  “No, Vincent,” she whispers. “You’re my life. I- I can’t live without you. Don’t push me away. I know that side of you exists, but soon we’ll be gone together. I can wait here. If I go, I’ll never be able to visit—”

  I laugh sardonically. “You think I’m a good man. You don’t know who I am. What I do. You conveniently ignore it.” My breath is low as I methodically rub my thumb back and forth across her neck, wanting to both strangle her and love her. I hate her for what she’s done to me. She makes me weak. She makes me fucking insane with love and lust. Instead of panicking, she shuts her eyes and raises her head, offering herself to me.

  “Vincent,” she whimpers. “I’m here. I’m right here.”

  I’m on her in seconds.

  Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Time pounds at my ears.

  It’s messy. Teeth clanking. Desperate. Dropping on the wooden floor, I strip her completely naked, tearing her underwear off. I pull down my pants, sliding into her soft and willing body.

  I spend the rest of the day inside her, but my anger won’t stop pulsing through my veins. Nothing is lessening my need. I’m squeezing her too tightly. I’m holding her too roughly. I’m sucking on her perfect skin too hard. But I won’t stop myself. I just can’t. And she takes it all. Letting me do what I want. Giving me her essence. Offering herself up to me.

  The reality of what will happen bangs against my chest—she must leave, forget me, not contact me again—but my body is refusing to listen. Not right now. Not fuckin’ yet.

  Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

  “Moan for me how I like. I want to hear you.” I drag her to the edge of the bed and drop down to the floor. I take a long, deep lick out of her center. I taste both of us on her, and it only spurs me on. I have to memorize this moment. Memorize her.

  “Vincent,” she pants. Her legs are shaking so hard I have to hold them down. I know how sensitive she is, but I need her to take everything I’m giving. She tastes so fucking good. Her chest rattles in pleasure and pain; she grips the sheets, trying to keep herself from crying out again as she thrashes her head from side to side. It’s too much. Her voice, hoarse, echoes around the room.

  I finally let her go, moving back up and drawing her small body into mine. Her dark hair sticks to the sweat on my chest, but I lock her down so she can’t move a muscle without my consent.

  “Oh, Vincent,” she cries. “I’m here, baby. I’m here. I won’t leave you. Never.”

  I come inside her so many times, I’m convinced I’ve found my way into her bloodstream. She’s my salvation. How am I going to walk away from her? I try to fuse our naked bodies together with my strength, moving my head so she can’t see my face. Would she be able to see my pain? I know how much larger I am than her, but nothing is enough.

  I turn her onto her back. She’s so fragile. Perfect. I let my hands roam all over her body and stop at her flat stomach. I bend down to lick and kiss her smooth skin. I span my fingers around her waist, wishing she were pregnant right now with my child. I want love and intimacy and home-cooked meals. I want all of it with Eve, every day forever.

  Instead, I’m leaving for prison. Giving up a decade of my life. The only way to survive in there is to give up my humanity. While I’m in lockup, I can be nothing other than cold-blooded. I need to let myself adapt to the change. Having a woman like her in the back of my mind would only weaken me.

  While I’m kissing her, I le
t myself imagine her here in the city while I’m behind bars. I picture my enemies finding out about her and then, coming after her. Or my father, taking her away to punish me. My heart pounds, solidifying my decision.

  I have only one fear in this world, and it isn’t dying or being tortured. It’s that my love will haunt her. Have I put a mark on her head? I was supposed to leave her alone. I should never have insisted on us being together. I was impulsive and reckless.

  She lays on top of me. Breathing hard. Hands roaming up and down my biceps.

  “Vincent?”

  I move my head to see her. Something that looks like hope fills her large brown eyes. She brings her hands to my shoulders, so gentle.

  “Don’t make me go. I can’t leave you. Don’t you understand?”

  “I gotta do what needs to be done. You have to leave for California, and not look back.” I want her to scream at me and tell me that we’re done. I need to hear her say she wants nothing to do with a murderer. I want her to slap me across the face, angry I had sex with her so savagely, and run out of this apartment. “Please,” my heart begs.

  She shakes her head. “No. I’m not leaving you. I can’t! It’s just not possible!” She moves over me, straddling my legs. “Once you’re out of prison, we’ll live out on the reservation together, right? I want to live far from everything and everyone. I’ve dealt with far worse shit my whole life. I can handle this.”

  Her words feel like a sucker punch to the gut. The plan has to stay in play. She isn’t going to give me up. I remove her hands from my chest and stand; I need to get away from her.

  “Vincent?” She sits up in the bed, but I move quickly.

  I open my drawers, turning away from her in both mind and body. Pulling out a fresh pair of jeans and a long-sleeve gray Henley, I slide it on as if the love of my life isn’t breaking down in front of my eyes. Hurting her right now feels like I’m cutting off my own arm, but I ignore it. Overriding every emotion in my heart is my need to keep her safe.

  I pause for a moment to breathe. I want to press my lips against the cross around her neck and swear to her and Jesus that I’ll be back for her. That she belongs to me. That I’ll never love anyone else other than her. But I can’t.

  I hear her heavy breaths while fat tears drop down her face. “Don’t, Vincent. Don’t do this to me. I know you love me. You can’t pull this cold routine anymore. You need me to stay close to you.” She gets out of bed, walking on my heels as I step into the bathroom to brush my teeth. I stare at our reflection in the mirror; I double her in size. “Tell me you love me, Vincent,” she begs, hands up in prayer.

  I stay silent. Squeeze toothpaste on the bristles. Brush. Turn on the faucet. Put my hands into the water like a cup and draw it into my mouth. Swish. Spit. Clean the brush.

  I turn around and see she’s on her knees in front of me, crying. She clutches my calves, head bent to my legs. “I want to wait for you. However long it takes—”

  “No, Eve. We’re done. We had a good time while it lasted, but you have to move on. I’m done with you now.” I bend down, grabbing her shoulders. Doing a quick survey of her body, I can clearly see all the bruises that I’ve placed on her with my mouth and hands. What have I done? I deserve jail after what I’m about to put her through. I let go of her and she collapses to the floor.

  I walk out the door, leaving her broken, no traces of mercy behind me. I have to pray that maybe one day, she’ll forgive me.

  ***

  I’m on the couch at my apartment by school. Picking up my phone, I call Tom. At least I have no doubts of his loyalty. My brother will be by my side until the end.

  “Come over tonight to my SoHo loft. Bring girls. There’s something I need to do.” I scratch the back of my head with my free hand.

  “Yeah, no shit. We’ve got a limited time to fuck as much as we can. Or at least, I do. And by the way, fuck you, Vincent! Fuck you for dragging us into this shit and fuck that bitch for fucking it all up!”

  I can imagine Tom’s hands shaking on the other end of the line. He may be angry, but he’s tough as fuck and will do just fine with me in prison. “One way or another, we’d have to do time for the family. Every man has done it. Now it’s our turn.”

  “Well, I didn’t want to go now! How about that, motherfucker!”

  “Don’t spend your last few days of freedom complaining like a pussy. I’m heading over now to Shane’s to get inked. Then meeting with Goldsmith to discuss what we’re going to plead. Tonight though, let’s party.” With the thought of this evening, my teeth clench together; I can feel the vibration in the back of my skull.

  “I’ll be there,” he growls.

  I hang up and the rest of my afternoon runs in a blur. By ten o’clock, I’ve got a solid plan with our attorney and feel pretty confident that he’ll negotiate seven years. I shift my shoulder, feeling the residual sting from my new tattoo. Like the other men in the family, I placed it over my right shoulder and down the bicep giving me a half sleeve. BM is written in ancient script lettering, but I placed it within an intricate Tribal design. Shane is a seriously talented artist—I’ll give him that. He also added Eve’s name within the lines of the bands. It’s unnoticeable to anyone other than me, but I wanted to feel her on my skin.

  Eve’s hair. Eve’s lips. Eve’s body. Eve’s smile.

  I lift my head up, praying for the strength I’ll need to pull this off.

  CHAPTER 24

  EVE

  Vincent is going to prison. My heart thumps.

  There has to be another option.

  Even if I move to California, there’s still no way I would move on from him. How could I? I’ve given him everything of me—my entire being. There is no Eve without Vincent.

  I stare down at my bruised body, hoping that whatever it was he needed from me, he got. Deep down, I know he wanted to scare me. He wanted me to see him as a hardened criminal. He wanted me to run away from him. Did he think he would scare me off with his strength, size, and aggression? Too bad.

  I take my time to wash up and get dressed, gently soaping my sore body. I let myself cry for twenty more minutes before I force myself to toughen up. Vincent doesn’t want me to be weak. He wants me to be strong. If he goes to prison, I want him to know that I can be a support for him. The first thing I need do is head over to the law library and make some sense of his predicament. Right now, I refuse to dwell. I’m going to invest all of my energy on the present moment, which is gathering knowledge about Vincent’s situation. The more I know, the more control I’ll have.

  I leave the apartment, trying not to look at anything too hard as I make my way to the door. Every single square inch is full of memories; I don’t want to start crying again. I stop at a corner deli and pick up a coffee and a toasted butter bagel before jumping onto the subway, heading back uptown to school. The train is full of people, but luckily, I squeeze into a spot where I can hold onto the pole. I flinch as my hand touches the cold metal, thinking about the article in High and Low that started everything.

  Finally, I’m at my stop. I walk to campus with my head down, deep in thought. I’ve already missed a day of classes; one more won’t kill me.

  The law school library stands dauntingly at the top of a hill. I enter with soft steps, but I can still hear the echo of my shoes against the floor. Another woman may be overwhelmed by the gothic architecture and high stacks, but I’m not ordinary. If there is an answer to helping Vincent, I’m damn well going to find it.

  I begin by scouring the internet for cases on the American mafia. I compile a list of keywords, including RICO. Once I’ve done enough of that cursory research, I find one of the librarians, explaining to her that I’m trying to get information on previous cases where the defendants were indicted under RICO. After a fifteen-minute crash course on how to search case law, I begin.

  I review every court case I can find on the topic, reading and then re-reading in order to capture the details. So many of the results of these case
s are simply changed based on what facts the federal government can prove. It’s obvious now why Vincent is pleading to a lesser charge. If the Borignones were ever found guilty under RICO, they would be forced to forfeit everything the family has made under the assumption that all the money is somehow tainted from their illegal dealings. With just an indictment of RICO alone, the government can freeze all of their assets and property. Hours pass, and the reality only becomes clearer. Vincent has no choice but to plead guilty—to something other than racketeering. I feel sick.

  Time continues to move at too fast of a pace. I’m sure I’d be better able to help Vincent if I weren’t in the dark when it came to his business dealings.

  Lifting up my head, I blink. I turn my gaze toward the window, surprised that it’s already dark. I blink and rub my eyes that feel like sandpaper from hours of crying and reading. My phone rings—it’s a number I don’t recognize.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, I’m looking for Eve Petrov.” A professional sounding voice comes across the line, and I swallow away the rasp in my throat.

  “Yes, this is she.”

  “Good afternoon. This is Anna from Mr. Farkas’s office. I’m calling to see if you’re available for an interview tomorrow morning at ten thirty. He can meet you at 347 Fifth Avenue, Suite 302, across from the Empire State Building.”

  “My interview?”

  “Yes. Your interview with the Mr. Farkas of the admissions committee at Stanford.” Her voice sounds annoyed, and my mouth runs dry. “Ms. Petrov, are you still on the line?”

  “Y-yes,” I stammer. “I’m here.”