“The cops don’t know anything. I’ve been stringing them along,” Phillip cries out. “Let me explain.”
With a curt nod, the man sitting closest to Giovanni stands to his feet and pulls a gun from his waistband and aims it directly at Phillip’s head. I suck in a sharp breath, but no one else in the room bats an eye at the nightmare unfolding before us. Talent places his hand on my thigh and squeezes my knee, but I find little comfort in his attempt to ground me.
“Don’t waste our time with your futile lies, Phillip. There’s a long list of offenses to answer for.” Giovanni rocks back and forth in his seat with his hands in front of him like a prayer.
“Nothing comes in or out of my territory without my knowledge—not a dime bag of dirt weed, and certainly not the heroin you were running for the competition on daddy’s fleet. Was the inventory I hired you to transport not enough to pay the bills? Or is the problem that you used it as a personal stash and got yourself in a bind?” Giovanni asks cynically. He waves Phillip away before he can answer for himself. “The day you got picked up by the FBI was the luckiest day of your life, but it only extended the inevitable. And it gave you more time to fuck shit up.”
The gunman whips Phillip across the face with his weapon.
I take Talent’s hand, and he pulls my chair closer to his.
“Your second offense was making a deal with the feds,” Giovanni continues nonchalantly, like this is the lesser of the evils. “And your third and final offense was turning your back on Talent Ridge.”
“I’m sorry,” Phillip cries. His face is bloody and bruised. “Talent, please.”
“I never liked this guy. I tried to tell you over and over, Talent. He has no character,” Giovanni says, turning his attention to Talent. “But it ends tonight. He’s left me no choice.”
“Wait.” Talent sits straight, blocking Giovanni’s view of me. “Do what you have to do, but she doesn’t need to be here for this.”
The air conditioner kicks on, and goose bumps form on my skin. I shiver, but it’s not from the cold.
“Fine, go,” Giovanni says, dismissing us with a flick of his hand. “We’ll talk later.”
Talent stands to his feet and quickly drapes his jacket over my shoulders, like it could possibly serve as a shield between the horrors of this room and me. Talent practically carries me away, and we don’t make it through the door before the other shoe drops.
“Let Inez know I’m ready to talk when she is,” Giovanni says in an even tone.
I look over my shoulder in fear and shock, and he winks.
“Keep walking,” Talent mumbles, pushing me far away from the meeting room.
Stepping out of the hallway to discover the party hasn’t slowed down fills me with fresh anger. I turn on Talent and shove my palms into his chest, but he quickly spins me around and urges me to keep walking. A server carrying a tray of drinks walks by and smiles, and it’s all I can do not to knock it from her hands. The tables have been rearranged to expand the dance floor. The fog and light show distorts the faces of the dancing bodies who drink, celebrate, and move like a man isn’t going to be killed in the other room.
I shake free from Talent’s jacket once we’re outside and hurl it at him in an attempt to run away. My heels click on the concrete floor, and I quickly realize I won’t get far in stilettos and stop to unbuckle them from around my ankles. Talent catches up and gathers me in his arms.
“Go away,” I shout with a swelling rage.
“Lydia, get in the fucking car,” he growls, carrying me over to the limo. “I’ll explain everything once we get home.”
Our driver looks the other way as Talent shuffles me into the back of the vehicle, ignoring our argument like it’s just another day on the job. If he works for the Coppolas, I can only imagine the things he turns a blind eye to. Drug deals. Human trafficking. Murder.
Inside the limousine, I climb as far away from Talent as I can. He sits right beside the door, slamming it closed behind him.
“You lied to me,” I say, unbuckling my heels.
Talent drops his head against the headrest and exhales. “I didn’t lie to you, Lydia.”
My shoe hits him in the chest, and I lift the second to throw next. “Tell me what the fuck is going on.”
Scrubbing his hands up and down his face, he claps his hands on his knees and says, “Twelve weeks ago, the Vogels were picked up by the FBI and ATF for transporting heroin on their yachts. It was a small run from San Francisco to Mexico, but because it crossed borders, the big guns got involved.”
“Yeah, I heard that part. What does that have to do with me?”
He looks away as the limo driver merges into traffic, heading back to Grand Haven. And I know that whatever Talent is about to admit is big, because he doesn’t look at me when he says, “We got word right away, but their arrests didn’t go public because Phillip Vogel turned informant. Phillip made a deal he couldn’t keep. He couldn’t prove he runs drugs for Giovanni because the stash he was caught with belonged to some city gang, and Gio doesn’t use him regularly. So, his only tie to the Coppolas was through me.”
“But you said—”
“I’m not in the mob, Lydia. That’s the truth. Nothing ties the Ridges to organized crime, but my family has worked closely with their enterprise for a very long time. I was born into this life.”
“I don’t know what that means,” I say, but I know exactly what being born into a life I didn’t ask for is.
“My mom’s maiden name is Morelli,” he admits. Pamela Ridge has deep generational ties to the community, but her maiden name doesn’t ring a bell. “When she was a kid, her uncle, Lando Morelli, owned a sandwich shop downtown that seconded as a meeting place for the Coppola crime family. Once a week, they’d meet in the basement, and as a kid, my mom would serve them food and refreshments. They’d tip her. They grew to love her, but she didn’t understand what kind of people her uncle worked with until she got older. And by then, it was too late.”
“Keep going,” I say when he stops.
Talent takes a deep breath and continues, “My parents met when they were eighteen or nineteen when my dad was in college with a prelaw major. The Coppolas still held their meeting at Lando’s sandwich shop, but things were starting to change after crackdowns in New York, Jersey, and Philadelphia. Upper ranks were arrested, and the dismantling of organized crime by the government started.”
“That’s not entirely true,” I say.
Talent shakes his head. “No, they went underground and changed the way they do business. They’re not meeting in the basements of sandwich shops anymore.”
And then it dawns on me. “They’re meeting in their lawyer’s office.”
“Yes,” he answers in a regretful tone. His eyes return to me, soft gray and pleading for me to understand. “Ridge & Sons is a silent associate for the Coppola crime family. Nothing official, so we’re not tied to them should they be infiltrated in any way, but we handle the ins and outs of their legal business ventures and help cover up the rest.”
“Racketeering,” I say, and he nods. “How did I end up in your office?”
He presses his lips together before saying, “Phillip was one of the few people who knew about our work with Giovanni. When he got wrapped up in the drug charges, he agreed to gather information to tie us to the Coppolas. He wanted to set me up. Phillip talked Naomi into it, but Inez sent you instead and fucked their plans up. Giovanni has moles in the FBI and learned what Phillip was up to right away. Phillip must have found out and went on the run. Gio and the FBI have been looking for him ever since, but we found him first.”
“Did he get anything on you?” I ask.
“Nothing,” Talent says through the dark. “But now you know, I am just like you.”
My mind is crowded with conflicting emotions, half-understanding and half-disappointed. Until the moment Talent dipped me back during our dance, I was under the impression I had the opportunity for an ordinary life with him. N
ow I know the entire story, and any thoughts of a normal life mock me.
It was too good to be true.
Talent isn’t in the mob, but he may as well be.
“I wasn’t going to keep this from you. I planned to come clean,” he whispers.
“When?” I ask in a sharp voice.
“Tonight,” he says. “I wanted to show you this part of my life, and then I was going to tell you everything. None of that was supposed to happen, Lydia. Do you think I would have put you in that situation had I known?”
Our limousine comes to a slow stop in front of my apartment complex, but neither one of us moves to get out. Crushed again by hope, I shouldn’t be surprised by how sad I am. This is the reason why I’ve preferred a life without expectation. Talent bulldozed his way into my routine and my heart, and now look at us.
“Can I come in?” Talent asks with his hand on the door.
“What if I say no?” I ask, barefoot and grieving.
A small smile curves the corner of his mouth, and he says, “I’d sleep outside your window.”
He drapes one arm over my shoulders and carries my shoes in his other hand. We walk the concrete pathway to my apartment in heavy silence. The front door opens with a crack, and the smell of blown-out candles lingers in the dark living room, welcoming us home. The contrast between how I felt when I left and how I feel now is jarring, but Talent continues to be a beacon of light alongside my shadowy nature.
Jammed between thick sorrow and the burning love I hold for Talent Ridge lingers cool deliverance. As fucked-up as tonight turned out to be, I release the burden and sigh in relief.
Going back isn’t an option. I’ll never sell my body again.
But I also won’t be Talent’s biggest mistake.
He was right. We are the same.
Born into lives we didn’t ask for, we’re neither good nor bad. We’ve taken what was given to us and we’ve made the most out of it.
I’m a tramp, and he’s a criminal.
Maybe fate isn’t as cruel as I thought. It brought us together, after all.
He starts the bath and helps me out of my dress, considering me with curious eyes and gentle touches. We sink into the warm water and wash away our sins like a fucked-up baptismal for the indecent. I sit between Talent’s legs with my back toward him and bring my knees to my chest, resting the side of my face on top of them.
“Don’t keep anything from me again, Talent,” I say.
Resting his arm over the side of the bathtub, he says, “That’s all there is.”
Looking over my shoulder, I ask, “What did Giovanni mean when he said to tell Inez he’s ready to talk when she is?”
“I don’t know,” Talent answers. He sits up straight and the bathwater moves in waves around our bodies. “As far as I know, Hush operates without interference from the Coppolas.”
“That’s not normal, right?” I know little about the inner workings of the mafia within Grand Haven, but Giovanni said it himself tonight. Nothing goes on in his territory without his knowledge. A few Hush girls have been known to serve members of the mob, but as far as I know, Inez is exempt from their control. Why?
“It’s not typical, but it happens,” Talent says, dripping water from the tips of his fingers down my spine. “The sex trade generates huge money. If Giovanni isn’t getting a cut from her operation, there’s a good reason. She’s never talked to you about it?”
Leaning back against his chest, the ends of my hair float on the surface as the water washes over my collarbone. I close my eyes as Talent’s arms encircle me, keeping me whole. “Never.”
“Lydia, wake up,” Camilla whispers. “Inez is on the phone. She wants to talk to you.”
Blinking against a dreamless sleep, my eyes focus to find Camilla standing beside my bed with the phone to her ear.
“I’m sorry, but she says it’s an emergency,” Camilla says in a voice as quiet as a secret.
I lean over to turn on my lamp, illuminating my room in a soft yellow glow. Camilla holds the cell phone out for me to take and stands back in her nightshirt and bare legs. Her gold eyes sweep over Talent’s sleeping form beside me, unsure if she should stay or go.
“Tesora, can you hear me, sweetheart?” Inez says on the other end of the phone.
Sitting up in bed, I shake Talent awake. I haven’t heard from Inez in weeks, and now she’s calling me in the middle of the night. Something isn’t right.
“I can hear you,” I say warily.
“I’m sorry to call you at this hour, but I need you to come over,” she commands. “The sooner the better.”
Talent hears Inez and kicks his legs over the side of the bed. He reaches for a shirt and pulls it over his head before grabbing his cell phone from the nightstand. Opening the home screen, he searches for a number and presses call. When his eyes meet mine, he says, “Wilder, I need to borrow your car.”
“We’re on our way,” I tell Inez, passing the phone back to Camilla.
Wilder shows up at our door twenty minutes later dressed in a pair of black sweats and a plain white T-shirt. He has sleep lines pressed into the side of his face, and he still smells like bourbon. No signs that he witnessed a killing tonight.
“The two of you keep shit interesting,” he says, tossing the keys to Talent. “Do you need me to come along, or can I crash on the couch?”
“You can sleep in my bed,” Camilla says eagerly. Wilder’s sleepy-drunk expression rouses, and a wide smile spreads across his lips. Camilla blushes and corrects herself. “Because the couch isn’t any better than sleeping on the floor. You can sleep in my bed, and I’ll—”
Shoving my feet into a pair of shoes, I grab my phone from the counter and head toward the door. Talent follows me out, quickly stepping past me to lead the way to Wilder’s Mercedes. The night sky idles somewhere between night and morning, mostly black and star-speckled, edged by a lighter blue along the horizon.
“Do you know what’s going on?” Talent asks, turning the car away from the curb and whipping it around so quickly the tires squeal.
“She just said to come over, but this isn’t like her. Something’s wrong.”
Talent drops his foot on the accelerator, and the car roars against the quiet night. “Tell me where I’m going, baby.”
From the outside, Inez’s white two-story home appears vacant. There’s not a car sitting in the driveway, not a light on, no signs of life from the outside. Even the porch light is off. As soon as Talent parks the car, I unbuckle the seat belt and get out, running across the damp lawn to the front door.
“Dammit, Lydia,” Talent calls after me. “You can’t just run in there.”
The door isn’t locked and opens to a dark front room, utterly quiet and silent with the exception of a single light toward the back of the house where the kitchen is.
I step forward to follow it, but Talent captures my wrist and holds me back. “Will you fucking wait? We don’t have any idea what we’re walking in on.”
Finding his face in the dark, I tell him, “She’d never hurt me, Talent.”
Surrounded by the smell of lilac and cedar, I know this to be as true as my devotion to Talent. I don’t know what she’s protecting me from, but I know she’s doing it because she loves me. Inez, Talent, and Camilla are my family. They’re all I have, and I trust them with my life.
Talent insists he walk in first, keeping me an arm’s length away. When we step into the kitchen to find Inez pointing a pistol at Naomi’s head, he shields me with his body and says, “Shit.”
Naomi’s in the same blue dress she wore at the birthday party she got away from earlier this evening, but her hair is now disheveled, and makeup runs down her face with tears. She sits in a wooden chair pulled away from Inez’s dining room table with her hands tied around her back like Phillip’s were when he answered for his crimes.
“Inez, what’s going on?” I ask, clutching Talent’s arm.
As terrified as I should be by the scene unrolling
in front of me, it comes second to the shock I feel at seeing Inez in a pair of jeans and a crew neck sweater. She’s wearing tennis shoes, and her flaming red hair is pulled back into a low ponytail. As if this entire night hasn’t been strange enough, what does that say about me?
“Naomi called earlier this evening when she had nowhere else to go and broke the news about the tragic loss of our friend Phillip Vogel at the hand of Giovanni Coppola today, like she hasn’t turned her back on us, too, ” Inez says. She has both hands on a silver pistol etched with roses, and her finger is on the trigger. “She told me he was trying to set you up, Talent. Please, tell your father and the Coppolas I had no part in her plot when I sent Lydia to your office.”
“You have my word,” Talent says.
Inez takes her eyes off Naomi long enough to smile at Talent and me. “I’m so glad you’ve found each other. It gives me peace to know my favorite girl won’t be alone once I’m gone.”
Naomi fights against her restraints. Susceptibility drains from Inez’s face, and her expression hardens once she returns her attention to the woman tied to a chair.
“You should have believed me when I said you wouldn’t be the one who took me down, Naomi,” Inez says through gritted teeth.
“What can we do?” Talent asks. He’s calm in the face of violence. “One phone call and I can have this taken care of.”
Inez shakes her head. “No, this is my mess to clean up. Just promise me to take care of Lydia, please. I know you can protect her.”
“Inez,” I whisper. My eyes burn and fill with tears.
“I loved once,” Inez reminiscences with a quivering chin. “It’s how I started all of this. His name was Gino Coppola and he was an underboss under Giovanni’s father, Lorenzo. They were killed, of course. Huge scandal, but I haven’t loved another man since. This gun was his.”
Talent swallows hard and says, “Gino Coppola … is that why Giovanni stays out of your business? And how you know about my family?”
Inez nods. “The mafia doesn’t put much thought into wives and girlfriends, but Gino made sure I’d be protected if he perished. Should something happen to him, no one would interfere with Hush as long as I lived. The way those men treat sex work is brutal, and I never wanted my girls to be subjected to such working conditions. But that protection does end with me. Granted, I hoped to have more time, but I wanted to prepare for the future. When the opportunity showed itself, that’s when I decided to send Lydia instead. I knew you’d fall for her. It gives me a lot of peace to know I was right. I knew your mother, and if you’re anything like her, my girl will be protected.”
Tramp (Hush Book 1) Page 29