“Good afternoon, sir. What can I do for you?”
“Let’s talk somewhere private,” I say.
He smiles shakily. “We can sit at the bar.”
“More private,” I say.
He swallows. “Yeah. Okay, we could talk in the back.”
He leads me past concerned looking servers to the back of the restaurant and gestures at the ground in front of the dishwasher. I motion for him to follow me into the walk-in freezer. He follows me hesitantly. Once we’re inside, I hit the lock on the inside of the fridge. I learned a long time ago that intimidation is a lot like sex. It’s more about the foreplay than the actual act. People are most likely to talk before I’ve ever touched them, and it’s a hell of a lot less messy that way.
I cross my arms, locking my eyes on him.
He licks his lips. “I’ll get Marco his money. I just need a few days.”
I hook my thumb in my jacket and pull it back so he can see the pistol holstered on my side.
He looks at the pistol, eyes widening. “I can have it tomorrow.”
“With interest,” I say.
“Interest? I’m already—”
I silence him by taking a single step forward.
“How much interest?” he asks.
“Why don’t you tell me how much interest you think you should pay for being late?”
He smiles nervously. “Five percent?”
I say nothing, staring down at him.
“Seven percent?”
“These are pretty thick walls in here,” I say. “Does much sound get through?”
“Thirty percent,” he says quickly.
I smile, clapping him on the shoulder. “Glad we could come to an agreement.” I leave him slumped in the walk-in, probably counting his blessings. I don’t enjoy scaring the shit out of people, especially when the “protection” they are paying for is a total scam. It’s the same assholes collecting money from them who will be coming by to break their legs if they don’t pay. Just like the only bully on the playground charging a kid three bucks a day to make sure no one takes his lunch money. But hey, the weak get fed on by the strong. If they don’t like it, they can get the fuck out of town for all I care.
When I get back in the restaurant lobby, I see the few people in the restaurant crowded around the windows. Shouting from outside draws my eye. All the doors to my car are open. Angelo and Carlito are sprinting past the restaurant toward a guy in a tracksuit who is running for his life.
Shit.
I shove past a guy, making him drop his beer glass. I’m out the door and turning the corner before I even hear it hit the ground and shatter. They are running as fast as they can down the sidewalk, pushing past people who get in their way, but I’m gaining on them. Angelo catches the guy in the track suit and horse-collars him, whipping him backwards so he slams on the pavement. Carlito rushes in, kicking the guy hard in the ribs. The smart onlookers are running and the stupid ones are staring, getting their phones out.
I take a look at the guy on the ground and realize it’s Nico Moretti. Shit. Angelo is going to start a fucking war with that temper of his, and I’m going to get tossed in the middle of it. I move from bystander to bystander, snatching their phones and slamming them into the ground where they shatter. It only takes three or four people before the rest of the onlookers start to back away and hide their phones.
Maybe it’s the tattoos, something in my eye, or maybe it’s just the gun I’m making sure everybody sees, but no one questions me. I still hear the meaty thuds of Angelo and Carlito going to town on this guy as I clear the last of the crowd.
“Hey you dumb shits, drag him in here if you’re going to rough him up. Jesus Christ.”
Angelo looks up at me, sweeping a lock of hair from his sweating forehead. “You want in on this?”
Carlito pauses, too, chest heaving with exhaustion. “It’s because of these fuckers you got thrown in the can. Give it to him, Leo.”
I ignore them, reaching down to grab the gasping and bleeding Moretti on the ground and drag him by the jacket into the nearby alley. I don’t stop until we’re mostly out of sight and behind a dumpster.
“Technically, it was your hot fucking temper that got me thrown in jail, Angelo. The Morettis didn’t really do shit to me.”
Angelo glares at me. He steps toward me, still breathless from beating up Nico. He’s at least half a foot shorter than me, and not nearly as wide in the shoulders. I step closer until my chest presses against his.
“You want to step to me?” I say. My voice is low and sharp as a knife. “I’d kill for you, but if you want to get tough with me, I’ll set you straight real fucking fast.”
Angelo’s eyes burn with anger, but he wipes his nose with his knuckles and turns to Nico, who is laughing through his bloody mouth.
“Sounds like I just got my ass kicked by the bitch of the family,” says Nico.
I nearly groan. Nico doesn’t realize how hot-tempered Angelo is, but I see it coming before it even happens. Angelo walks toward him with a deadly purpose. He lifts his knee above the waist and stomps on Nico’s head as hard as he can. I close my eyes and sigh when I hear the sound. I don’t even need to look to know that Angelo just killed Nico. He killed a made guy in one of the biggest crime families in the city, and he just put blood-red targets on all of our backs.
I hang up the phone, seething. The Bianchis are already catching heat from the Morettis about Nico’s murder, and the murder coming so soon after I got out of prison has everyone pointing fingers at me. I’d never let anything happen to my little brother, but I sure as hell am tired of cleaning up after him. He had to go dragging me back into his shitstorm when I haven’t even been out of prison a month?
I slam my hand against the dashboard. I was considering trying to find a way to go clean once I got out, maybe get out of this whole lifestyle and find something legit. I’m not sure what I’d do, maybe start my own business. I used to love flying remote controlled airplanes when I was a kid and I’d dream about flying the real thing. Maybe I could find some kinda work that would let me do that. Either way, none of that matters now. I’m going to have a metric ton of heat on my ass for the foreseeable future, and the only way I can keep my brother safe and keep my ass out of jail and out of the ground is by keeping my ear to the crime world. Getting out now would be a death sentence.
I’m parked outside the place Julia wanted to meet for our “first” date. I just took her to dinner two days ago, but it feels like it’s been ages. I see her waiting outside the restaurant already. She’s wearing a blue dress that hugs every curve of her body. Her black hair is pulled back in a bun. I smirk a little when I think how perfect a handhold it would make while she sucked my cock.
She glances at her phone and then looks around the parking lot hopefully. I’d be doing her a favor if I left. I’m no good for her. Now with all this Moretti shit, I don’t even know if it’s safe for her to be around me. What if they come after me while I’m spending time with her? Shit. I could live with the risk if it was anyone else, but the thought of her getting hurt makes me sick. The worst part is I know I’m going to go to her anyway. I want her too much to do what’s right. I’m going to go to her, eat dinner with her, and then I’m going to eat her out until she begs for my cock.
I’m about to get out of the car when I notice a white Cadillac cruising slowly through the parking lot. The guy driving is wearing shades and a suit. The guy in the passenger seat has hard eyes. The eyes of a killer.
Fuck.
Reality washes over me like a cold bucket of water. It’s over. I meet a woman like no one I’ve ever been with—smart, sexy as hell, and not afraid to test me—and now I have to decide between being with her and keeping her safe.
I take one more look at Julia, waiting for me outside the restaurant. Maybe my last look. Those guys in the car have to be Morettis. They are looking for me, and they found out where I was going without me knowing. The only way I can keep Julia safe n
ow is to leave. I’m going to have to wipe every trace of myself from her life, every last piece. I’ll change my number, move out of the city, and do whatever it takes to get this shit settled. When I’ve done that, maybe then I can come looking for her.
If she still wants to be found.
37
Julia
How do you tell a guy you just met a week ago that you might be pregnant? Better yet, how do you explain that you forgot to get the morning after pill after having unprotected sex just because your mom had a fever and needed to be driven to the hospital? I just want to cradle my head in my hands and cry, but the full reality still hasn’t set in, so I’m holding onto my sanity. For now.
I stand outside the restaurant, checking my phone and looking around the parking lot again for his car. Stop freaking out. You probably just fucked up your period because you missed the pill a few times. I was actually due for my period two days after he slept with me—no, fucked me. I was able to push that to the back of my mind and believe it was stress or missing the pill for a while. Now? Now I’m not so sure. I should just get a pregnancy test and be sure one way or another, but I can’t bring myself to take that step. That will make it permanent, real. Right now it’s just a maybe, and nobody’s life was ever derailed by a maybe.
Then again, my life left the tracks a long time ago. I think back to the conversation I had with Mom yesterday. She sounded hopeful about the latest report from her doctor, but all he said was the tumor hadn’t grown since her last visit. It wasn’t shrinking, it just wasn’t getting any worse. I tried to sound excited for her, but I couldn’t help thinking about the inevitability and unfairness of it.
Where the hell is he? I move around the side of the restaurant, not sure what I’m expecting to see. It’s not like he’ll be wandering around trying to find the entrance and needing my help. All I see is a white Cadillac driving slowly around the parking lot looking for a space, but they keep passing perfectly good spots to park. Morons.
Thirty minutes later, I’ve taken off my heels and I’m sitting on the bench, feeling like the world’s biggest idiot. Of course he didn’t show up. Guys like him don’t jump through hoops for women. They stick around until they get tired of the sex and move on to something new and fresh. He probably realized I wasn’t giving it up easily enough and decided not to waste his time. I don’t know if I can even blame him. I probably seem like a total mess. What kind of woman throws away so much for a few minutes of pleasure?
I rub a hand on my stomach and feel tears welling in my eyes.
The host steps outside the restaurant and gives me a worried look. “Ma’am? Are you okay?”
I sniff, wiping away tears and smearing my makeup. “No, these are tears of fucking happiness.”
He reels back, rushing inside like I just flashed fangs at him. I sigh, cradling my head in my hands and letting the tears flow freely. When did I become such an idiot?
Four Years Later
“Roman! Get your shoe out of your mouth!”
Roman gives me the cutest guilty smile imaginable and slowly lowers the shoe. “Sorry, Mommy.”
I sigh, kneeling down and hugging him tight. I still can’t believe how much I love him. He’s my little guy, and he’s the one thing in this world that keeps me sane. I can see so much of Leo in him. He has Leo’s long eyelashes, dark hair, and mouth, but he has my pert nose and green eyes.
“Can you maybe play with some of the toys I worked so hard to buy for you instead of eating your shoes?”
He giggles and runs off, yelling out something between a war cry and a scream. I smile as I watch him go. I really don’t know what I’d do without my little man. There has been so much pain and strife in my life, and it has all been packed into such a short span of time. I think it would break most people, but I’m still standing. For now, at least.
I look at the mail stacked on the kitchen table and mentally brace myself as I tear open the first letter. I know what it is going to be before I even open it. We just got the bad news that mom’s cancer came back last month. I haven’t had the heart to tell Roman yet, and I don’t know when or if I ever will. I don’t know what good it would do for him to know. I also haven’t figured out how I’m going to help her pay again. I’m still paying off loans I took to get her through her last treatments. She has her social security checks, but she can’t work anymore, and the bills are astronomical. There’s just no way for her to do it without my help, and I’m not going to watch my mom suffer idly.
Still. It’s one thing to say and another to do. I look at the bill from Bayside Hospital—four thousand seven hundred dollars. All I want to do is bang my forehead on the table and give up, but I can’t. I have mom depending on me and Roman needs me to be strong, so I suck it up and set the bill to the left, in the “what the hell am I going to do about this” stack. The rest of the mail is mostly reminders about outstanding debt, new bills, notices of what is going to be shut off and when if we don’t pay soon. Too bad I can’t just burn it all down.
I stand up when I’m done and look over at Roman. “Where are your pants?” I ask.
He straightens, frowning at me in confusion and then looking down at his little tighty whities. His mouth forms a surprised “O”. He points toward the bathroom.
I go to pick him up but he runs from me. I laugh, chasing him through the house as he giggles, bobbing and weaving beneath furniture that only he’s small enough to fit under. When I finally catch him, we’re both huffing and puffing. “You little gremlin! I’m not taking you to Lauren’s without pants on.”
“Why not?” he asks, still smiling.
“Because it’s not civilized.”
I find his pants on the bathroom floor and Roman puts them back on. “I want to be civilized.”
“Good,” I say, bending down and ruffling his hair. “Because civilized little boys make mommies happy.”
“I’m not little. I’m almost four.”
I grin. “Civilized young men.”
I sink into my office chair and try not to sigh in despair. Ever since I had Roman, I’ve made an extra effort to cheer myself up. My mom was always such a positive force in my life, and I want to be that for him, too. Especially since he’s having to grow up without a father. That thought skids across my consciousness so often I should be numb to it by now, but it still makes my eyes sting. My little man doesn’t have a dad. He doesn’t have someone to look up to or to teach him how to throw a baseball. I’ve done my best to do that with him, but I can’t do it all, no matter how hard I try, and it breaks my heart.
Ted opens the door to my office. He sits in the chair opposite my desk and leans back, squinting his eyes in the fake way he does that he thinks makes him look sexy. It just makes it look like he’s constipated though. “Looking great, as usual, Julia.”
“I have an appointment in a few minutes, Ted.”
He rolls his eyes and moves to stand behind me, putting his slimy hands on my shoulders and giving a sad excuse of a massage. “A few minutes is all I would need.”
“I’d be shocked if you needed more than thirty seconds,” I say.
His hands freeze on my shoulders and then his grip tightens until it’s painful. “Be careful. Do I need to remind you what will happen if you make me unhappy?”
I grit my teeth. “No.”
I can hardly believe he still holds it over my head after so long. I’m even tempted to just test him on it and see if he really could get anyone to believe him four years after the fact, but I can’t. Whether I like it or not, Ted is highly connected in the industry. If I give him a reason, he can make sure I’ll never see another patient again. He might even be able to get me fined. The only way I have to keep my son fed and with a roof over his head is to put up with Ted’s shit. Now that mom is sick again, even this isn’t going to be enough anymore. I may have to start working nights, but I’m already away from Roman so much. I can barely stand the idea of having to be gone even more. Lauren is nice enough to watch him d
uring the day because she’s a stay-at-home mom now. She says he’s no trouble, but I know how huge a favor she’s doing for me. I can’t ask more of her.
The door opens and a woman with tattoos and a severe case of resting bitch face walks in and sits on the couch, folding her arms and staring at the wall. Ted reluctantly takes his hands from my shoulders and walks to the door. He glares at me once before closing it behind him. Sometimes I just wish Leo would come back, even if it was only for an hour. I’d love to see Ted try his bullshit when Leo was around. The thought is enough to cheer me up, and I turn to my patient.
“So, tell me how you feel.”
38
Leo
I wipe my prints from the gun and toss it in the sewer grate. I already filed off the serial number when I bought it off a dealer, so there will be no trace. Angelo waits in the car, face grim. Carlito sits beside him. He’s thinner now. He’s been hitting drugs. He won’t admit it to us, but it’s painfully obvious. He’s always got the shakes and he’s getting thinner by the day, but I can hardly blame him. The life we’ve been living isn’t a life I’d wish on anyone. We live on the run, moving from hotel to hotel, always looking over our shoulders. The Morettis want our blood, and they haven’t stopped sending crews after us since Angelo killed Nico so many years back.
I tried to get away from the violence and forge a new life for myself, and now look at me. I’m still on the run, still up to my elbows in blood. Still missing her.
I pull open the car door and Angelo tosses me a rag.
“On your neck,” he says.
I check the rearview and see a light dusting of blood. I’ve gotten better about placing the bullet just right to avoid splatter, but he flinched. I pour water from a bottle and scrub the blood from my skin. I look at my hands and see the dark crusted red under my fingernails that never seems to fully wash out. No matter how much I seem to try, there’s always blood on my hands.
The Dom's Virgin: A Dark Billionaire Romance Page 24