Blood Ties - A Magnolia Novel

by Ashley Fontainne

  LiAnn fidgeted in the chair until she found a comfortable position. “Not much to tell, really. The food was good, the wine fantastic, but the company? Hmmm, too needy. It was kind of weird. The charming man I made a date with didn’t show up. Instead, the one who did was too eager and way too pushy. The vibe was all wrong, so friendship is all that’s in the cards for us. And I didn’t like that he called me so soon after. Again, the neediness factor is too high. Made noises about checking on me because of the storm. Wanted to know if I planned on coming to listen to him read the final chapters of the book he’s reading on Saturday since it will be his last performance. I’ll give him a plus point for tenacity, but it isn’t enough to outweigh the minuses.”

  “Mom, are you sure it wasn’t just first date jitters on both sides? Or maybe you’re a bit set in your ways now, being single for so long?”

  LiAnn shook her head. “At first, I thought so but the more he talked, the more my gut told me no. I cut the evening short. He took it well, up until the phone call last week. When I told him I wouldn’t be able to attend his reading because I would be out of town, I don’t think he believed me. He hasn’t been the same toward me since. Painting class on Tuesday and today was interesting. Things are, I don’t know, strained. Don’t get me wrong, he was kind. And polite, just distant.”

  Karina smiled. “Understandable. Poor guy was too busy licking the wounds to his ego. So, did you happen to ask him anything about the mob wench?”

  “I almost did today, after everyone else left the room. At the last second, I changed my mind. Figured he would either be irritated I was pumping him for information on someone he knows and clam up, or think it was just a ploy to talk to him. You know, give him false hope a relationship was still possible through idle chit-chat.”

  Karina grinned. “Don’t you think continuing to attend his painting class does that already?”

  “Exactly. It can’t be helped, though. What better way to keep an eye on Carmella? It would look rather suspicious if I just hung out at the place and watched people come and go.”

  Karina didn’t answer. She was staring out into the dark night, her eyes glazed over in deep thought. Finally, she asked, “Your decision to keep Jimmy in the friend only category doesn’t have anything to do with Crigger, does it?”

  LiAnn blushed. “Andrew is thousands of miles away. Of course not.”

  “Andrew? You slipped, Mom. You never call him by his first name, well, not since you two were dating. The walls in this old house are thin. I’ve heard you on the phone with him the last few nights.”

  LiAnn let out a huff of air. “He’s…been concerned about how Melissa’s death affected me. And you, for that matter.”

  “Uh-huh. Okay, Mom. Whatever you say.”

  “It’s late. I need to go finish packing before the trip tomorrow.” Irritated, and unwilling to discuss the subject any more, LiAnn rose from the chair and walked over to the back door. “And you need to rest, too. You’ll need all your energy the next few days. Building a barn isn’t in your bag of tricks. Be careful with the hammer.”

  Karina snorted and stood. “I plan on letting Bo and his crew do all the pounding. I’ll just supervise.”

  LiAnn shook her head, deciding to let the comment slide. “Good night, sweetheart.”

  29

  Bam. Over. Done.

  Nick was beyond exhausted. His body felt like he’d run a marathon. Or the Iron Man race. It was after midnight, officially Thursday morning, and he hadn’t slept in over two days. Nervous energy kept his frazzled brain from shutting down. Every time Nick closed his eyes, he saw the terrified face of Ray-Ray right before he pulled the trigger.

  He knew the vision would haunt him the rest of his life. It was all he could do to drag himself to work each day, putting on the mask of boss. His nerves were beyond frayed. When the phone would ring, he’d jump. If someone poked their head inside his office, he cringed, fearing it would be Carmella with instructions for their newest victim. Or, even worse, she found out he’d killed Ray-Ray, and came to end his life.

  The thought of facing Carmella made Nick’s ulcer bleed double-time. Even the ding from an incoming email made his skin crawl. So, at home, he kept all the lights off, cocooning himself inside the silent walls. The only light in the house was from the TV, which was muted. He wanted the flickering images, not the noise.

  The last several years of his life, Nick had been a ball of constant paranoia. Health failing from the perpetual stress, it only worsened after he’d been forced to commit murder. The heavy, overpowering guilt was like a vise around his chest. Every breath, each movement, made it constrict tighter. The day of the poor kid’s funeral was the worst.

  Not just because Nick went on a drinking binge. Or made the stupid, stupid mistake of talking to Caesar and Carmine at The Regency. Nor was it the decision made, in his drunken stupor, to sit on the back porch, enjoy the last beers in his fridge, and make final phone calls. Drunken, apologetic mumbles spewed out to Sabrina and Shaun about how much he loved them, how proud he was of the people they’d become. They listened, but didn’t say much in response. Sabrina muttered she loved him too but had to go study. Shaun simply hung up. After the last call was placed to Teri, Nick’s plan would forever extinguish the fire of guilt in his chest with one shot.

  Bam. Over. Done.

  Take the punishment he knew awaited on the other side, if there was such a thing as continuing on after death. If the grave truly was the end, Nick’s terrible memories would fade away and disappear with the final beat of his worn-out heart. If continuing on was true, the way Nick figured, it couldn’t be any worse than the Hell he was already living in.

  No, the worst thing that happened to him that day was meeting Lucas Hill. Because Lucas extended something to Nick. Something he craved more than anything in the world, and was so far out of reach, Nick had erased the word from his vocabulary.

  Hope.

  Hope to finally be free of the shackles keeping him chained to the sick, fucked-up world of Caesar Calvanio. The chance to loosen the vice, breathe. Walk away from the nightmare. Sleep for more than two hours at a time. Stop puking up vibrant red blood. Maybe even get off some of the medications he couldn’t live without. Leave Happy Days Retirement, and spend the rest of his life trying to atone to his family for the mountains of mistakes of his past. Lucas threw him a rope, and Nick grabbed on to it, but he wasn’t sure which situation was worse. Being numb and deprived of hope, or feeling the warm sensation of escape grow inside him.

  Because if the rope broke and his hopes were dashed, the pain would be unbearable.

  After the long, late night conversation with Lucas, discussing the plan to obliterate their common foe and all his minions, Nick was initially excited. No, he’d been euphoric. Though the kid was a stranger, they bonded immediately. Like two kidnap victims who’d been held in isolation for so long, their first contact with each other exhilarating. Telling another soul about the horrors endured was liberating, but the high left not long after Lucas did. They agreed on the decision not to go to the police, and that their only hope for salvation was killing their captors.

  Nick knew there was no turning back the second he gave Lucas the home address of Caesar. They opted not to discuss the particulars of the plan with each other. Lucas said he would take care of Caesar, followed by Carmine, and then disappear. Nick was to wait until the news broke about their deaths, then swoop in and dispatch the remaining family members. The thought process was Caesar’s kin would be reeling from his death, and drop their guard. After all, they already lost their child. Another death would hopefully leave their soft underbellies exposed.

  So, for the past three nights, Nick had mentally mapped out his own exit strategy. Nick knew he was too intimidated by Carmella to actually confront her face to face, and her monster of a spouse, Franco, was even worse. Besides, Nick wasn’t the violent type. He lacked the physical ability. Instead of trying to overpower them, he figured the best plan was to
outsmart them.

  Nick glanced over at the vials of medicine and syringes on the table next to him. Potassium chloride and morphine, stolen from the drug stash at Green Pastures. Nick was a good cook, and everyone at Green Pastures knew it, since each year during the holidays, he would bring in a dessert of some sort for the staff. Every year, Nick would try a new recipe, but always made gooey brownies as well. Carmella insisted on it, for she loved them. Once Nick let his mind actually consider a scenario where Caesar and Carmine were dead, his plan formed easily. Bake a batch of brownies laced with enough morphine to take down an elephant, deliver them in person to Carmella and Franco, and once they ate them and the drug took effect, slam a needle in each of their necks full of potassium chloride.

  Their deaths would be on his hands, but Nick could live with it. He had to. After all, how many innocents had they killed and dismembered over the years? Plus, it was a fitting end to their lives. They would die the same way they killed their prey.

  Nick knew from the cryptic note left in his mailbox earlier the time was near. Though unsigned and only a few words, the game had begun. Let the good times roll was all it said, and all the information needed. He leaned over to the table and grabbed his reading glasses and flicked on the lamp. Before he was too drunk to keep his hands steady, Nick picked up a syringe and a vial of potassium chloride. The needle slid in and he watched in silence as the clear liquid filled the syringe. Nick repeated the process until he had four syringes full. Once finished, he lined them up on the silver tray on the table, smiled, and turned the light off.

  A chuckle left his lips. Freedom was only a few days away. His family would finally be safe, and Nick could begin the long process of recovering from the nightmare. Maybe he would visit a shrink. They couldn’t break confidentiality. No, he wouldn’t do that. Too risky. He would just learn to live with it all, and maybe, eventually, the terrible memories would fade away. All he had to do was watch the news, and strike at the appropriate time.

  “Something funny?”

  Nick froze at the sound of Carmine’s voice. He could tell it came from the kitchen. Panic barreled through his chest. Nick’s mind gridlocked as a million thoughts raced through it. If Carmine was in his house, it could only mean one thing: his time was up.

  Too terrified to respond, Nick listened. Heard the sound of footsteps thudding his way. Nick set his drink down on the table next to him. On instinct, he palmed a syringe. Please, God. Help me. For my family.

  Still staring straight ahead at the TV, he saw from the corner of his eye Carmine emerge from the kitchen. In seconds, the monster stood beside him, less than a foot away. Nick’s tongue finally unlocked. “Laughing at the danger of hope, that’s all.”

  Carmine let out a loud chuckle. “Hope? Nicky Boy, you always were a strange goose, that’s for sure. So, I guess you’ve probably figured out why I’m here. Time’s up. However, before you go, you have some writing to do–things to get off your chest.”

  Nick pulled his gaze away from the TV and looked at Carmine. His eyes were glinting with the anticipation of the kill. The silver barrel of the gun in Carmine’s right hand shimmered under the light from the TV. Attached to the end was a silencer. In his other hand, Carmine held a piece of paper and a pen. Time slowed for Nick as everything clicked in his mind. Carmine would have him write a suicide note then end his life. Images of Teri and the kids flashed by. Nick wondered if his body parts would live on in others. The panic inside him waned as the rush of adrenaline, the will to survive, took over.

  “No.”

  Carmine threw his head back and laughed. “Well Nicky Boy, you did find your lost balls, didn’t you?” He tossed the paper and pen into Nick’s lap. “Too bad it happened so close to your expiration date. Get up. Go to the kitchen and sit down, and let’s work on crafting a heartfelt goodbye to your loved ones. Oh, wait, you don’t have any of those left, do you? Now, move or I’ll shoot you up where you sit, and write your final words myself. I promise you, they won’t be near as poetic as your own.”

  Jaw clenched, Nick rose from the chair. Carmine stepped away, brandishing the gun like a pointer. Nick moved across the hardwood in his bare feet, Carmine right behind him. Once Nick crossed the threshold into the kitchen, he coughed. Hard. At first it was a fake cough, but soon, it wasn’t. Droplets of blood spewed out of his mouth, all over the kitchen floor. Nick doubled over, reaching out with the hand that held the syringe to the counter for support.

  “Cough sounds bad, Nicky Boy. Summer cold, eh? Don’t worry. I’ve got a permanent cure for you right here.”

  The second Carmine leaned over his shoulder, the gun near his face, Nick went into action. He jerked his head and the base of his skull connected with Carmine’s nose. Nick heard the sickening crack and the anguished yelp of pain, followed by the clatter of the gun as it skittered across the floor. He swung his arm up and buried the needle in Carmine’s neck, pushing the plunger. Blood and snot ran down Carmine’s face, his eyes backlit with fury. Nick tried to back away, but stepped on the gun. He stumbled just as Carmine’s arm shot out, his meaty fist connecting with Nick’s jawbone.

  The blow sent Nick flying backwards, his body crashing into the cabinetry. Bright, white light exploded in front of Nick’s eyes. When it disappeared he saw Carmine jerk the needle from his bleeding neck, then crumple to the ground. Spasms rocked his body. Nick noticed Carmine glance toward the gun to his left. In two swift strides, Nick crossed the kitchen floor and kicked it away from Carmine’s reach.

  The man was gasping for air, a strange, gurgling sound in his throat. Nick’s adrenaline pumped through his system as he realized Carmine was on his last legs. A sensation of triumph at offing the goon made him grin. You’re a killer for sure. Two in less than one month! This is so wrong. So…not happening.

  The sense of accomplishment was short-lived. With a final grunt, Carmine rolled on his side, one hand clenched around the needle hole on his neck, the other in his jacket pocket. In that split second, Nick realized he wasn’t in the clear. He turned and made it to the doorway before the muffled pop reached his ears. Red-hot, searing pain tore through his back, thrusting him forward, and Nick fell face-first onto the floor. He tried to scramble to his feet, but his legs wouldn’t cooperate. With his cheek firmly stuck to the floor, his mind and body stunned from the impact of the bullet, Nick realized he couldn’t feel his legs.

  His arms still worked, so he dug his fingers into the floor and tried to pull himself forward. Terrified another bullet would rip through him any second, he had to get away. His cell phone was less than ten feet from him, on the floor next to the chair. If he could just reach it in time, he could call 9-1-1. He didn’t care at this point about involving the police. What they would find upon their arrival, or what they would uncover during an investigation. Nick just wanted it all over. Once and for all.

  The house was quiet, no movement from behind him. The gurgles had stopped and Nick prayed the bastard was dead. The room seemed darker, the distance to the phone, longer. With one final burst of energy, Nick’s fingers clamped around the phone. He tried to punch the buttons but couldn’t see the screen. Everything went black.

  In the darkness, Nick cried out, “Forgive me, Teri.”

  30

  The Truth Unfolds

  “Be safe, honey. Don’t let your guard down for even a second while we’re gone. That means curtailing horizontal activities with Bo. I mean it.”

  Karina forced a smile and hugged her mom. “I think we already had a discussion about your constant worrying. I’ll be fine, Mom. Promise. Now, scoot, before you wind up in rush hour traffic. Cecil is probably wondering why you haven’t arrived yet.”

  LiAnn gave Karina a disapproving look as she climbed behind the wheel of Dragula. “Love you.”

  Junior stuck his head out the window and yelled, “Don’t forget to feed the chickens. Oh, and if the power goes off again, remember there are plenty of candles in the junk room.”

  Karina watched as
her mom put the car in gear and everyone waved goodbye. About fifty yards down the driveway, they passed Bo as his truck lumbered up the drive. She saw her mom motion for him to stop, and a quick conversation between them ensued. Karina rolled her eyes, wondering just what in the heck her mom was saying to him. With her luck, she probably told him Karina was on her period, or some other trumped-up tale to ensure sex was off the table. Thankfully, the discussion didn’t last long.

  Bo pulled up and climbed out, a huge grin on his face. “Mornin’, sunshine. My, but your ma was in a mood. She told me I best keep an eye on you while they’re gone, or she’d kick my rear from here to New Orleans. Guess you weren’t kiddin’ about her bein’ overprotective.”

  Any other time, Karina would have been annoyed at her mother’s meddling, but given their current situation, she understood. Though Karina never expressed her thoughts out loud, she was worried about not only her mother, but Gram, Grampa, and Cecil. Karina returned Bo’s smile. “Momma hens always worry about their chicks, especially if they only have one. Sorry about that. So, are you ready to go get the material? I have some things I need to discuss with you on the way.”

  “First things first, doll,” Bo cooed as he wrapped his arms around Karina and kissed her.

  For a few blessed moments, Karina melted into his sensual embrace. Lost herself inside Bo’s lips, his talented mouth. The feel of his strong hands down her back. Forgot all about the craziness in her world as Bo’s kiss washed it all away.

  Bo pulled back and looked at Karina, his smile even brighter than before. “As I was sayin’, first things first. Got to have my mornin’ fix of catnip.”

  Despite the constant worry swimming around in her mind, Karina laughed. “Oh, so I’m just a drug fix, huh? Didn’t picture you as the type to get addicted.”