Blame It on the Shame- Part 3

by Ashley Jade

  He shrugs and squints. “From what I understand, the girl had a lot of psychological issues. It wouldn't be uncommon for a girl in her predicament to off herself or turn to prostitution or drugs.”

  He takes a deep breath. “I thi—”

  The crowbar to the side of his head shuts him the fuck up for good.

  Chapter 6 (Ricardo)

  I roll my shoulders back and pinch the bridge of my nose. This is the last place in the world I want to be right now.

  I still haven't received any updates on the P.I. team's progress or from my own men that I sent out to find her.

  And every hour that goes by—

  No.

  I won't let myself think about that. Because that douche-bag was wrong.

  Lou-Lou wouldn't do that. She's too strong to give up, that girl's a fighter if there ever was one.

  She's a goddamn survivor...my survivor.

  The council is right—she is my weak spot, I'll never deny that.

  And not even God can help the motherfucker who would be stupid enough to ever try and take her out of this world.

  Granted, I still have no idea who the hell said motherfucker is yet...or why the council is teaming up with them...or why this person would target those I care about...specifically her in the first place.

  The only enemies I have are new ones, courtesy of my current lifestyle—however, for someone to apparently make a threat so personal against me—means I must have done something personal to them at some point in time.

  And I'm drawing a blank on who checks that box.

  I was planning on finding out once and for all who the bastard is—since the council made it more than clear they're not going to tell me—but when I went to the prison to visit my good pal, Ford—I was informed that he was transferred to the hospital late last night.

  Evidently the idiot swallowed a light bulb and the new guard on duty didn't know the drill when it came to him...so he dispatched medical and off Ford fucking went.

  Of course, I had every intention of paying a visit to him today...

  But then she happened.

  The sweetest, yet scariest woman in the world—Momma.

  Momma—who somehow tracked down the address of my new house and showed up on my doorstep this morning.

  Momma—who threatened to put a serious hurtin' on Marlene if she didn't see to it that I show up at Tyrone's and spend some time with everyone today.

  Which brings me to my current state of events—watching Momma's eyebrows shoot up as she appraises me from head to toe. “Never pegged you as the type to wear a suit, sugar. Who died?”

  Beside me, Tyrone snorts and I glare at him as Shelby smacks his head.

  Everyone knows what I do now—everyone but Momma.

  Don't get me wrong, the woman is far from stupid and I'm sure she suspects exactly what and who I am—it's just something we've never outright talked about.

  I avert my gaze because there's no way I can look the woman in those sweet ebony eyes of hers and lie straight to her face. “No one died, Momma,” I mumble. “I just got out of a business meeting.”

  Her lips draw in a tight line and she makes a face. “I see.”

  “And that's my cue to leave,” Tyrone mutters as he flips the handle on his wheelchair and heads for the door.

  Shelby's eyes dart around the room nervously and she hikes a thumb in the direction of the bedroom. “And I'm gonna go back to planning the engagement party.”

  Dammit. Abandoned by my own flock.

  Momma folds her arms across her chest and exhales sharply. “What the hell are you doing to yourself, baby?”

  It's not the concern in her voice that causes the ice around my heart to start thawing. It's the love behind those words.

  It's the fact that even though I exchange less words with this woman than I do with anyone else in my life...Momma's always been able to read certain parts of me like a book.

  When I don't answer, her eyes start to water and she throws her arms around me before I have a chance to stop her.

  I'd be lying if I didn't admit to myself that for a moment, I want to launch myself across her lap and sob like a small boy. I want to tell her how much I miss Lou-Lou—how much I'm secretly grieving the baby we lost—and how fucking scared I am that someone out there is going to harm her and I won't be able to stop them in time...but I can't.

  So I don't.

  Instead, I push her away and take a step back.

  Because crying in Momma's arms like some kind of sissy won't heal me and it certainly won't fix me.

  The broken might find a way to glue those fucked up pieces back together...but they don't ever really repair.

  And I've learned it's best to use those pieces as weapons so no one else ever gets the chance to fuck you up ever again.

  I care about them, and I'd do anything to protect them...but there will always be a wall around me that no one can penetrate.

  Because although they have all suffered, lost, and hurt at some point in their lives—they gravitate toward the light because that's where they long to be. That's where their souls were always meant to be.

  They're the good people. The beautiful people.

  The monsters in the dark don't call to them—because they fear them.

  But me? I find my solace there.

  And I don't fear them...because I'm one of them.

  “Don't touch me.” My voice comes out hard and rough and Momma stares at me in shock.

  “I can't—I can't hug you anymore?”

  Her lower lip quivers and even though there's so much pain in her eyes, I still don't falter. “No.”

  Her eyebrows crash together and she opens her mouth like she wants to either scream at me or give me a sermon, but instead she shakes her head softly and says, “Okay, sugar. You let me know if that changes.”

  I lift my chin and walk out the door...and the small sob that escapes her guts me.

  But not nearly as much as what I'll be seeing when I open the door to Jackson and Alyssa's apartment.

  I hesitate when my hand lands on the doorknob. It's getting harder to be around her the bigger her belly grows.

  Because in my mind? All I see is Lou-Lou...pregnant with our baby.

  The baby that was taken away from her...from us...because of me.

  However, the sound of Tyrone yelling, "That's disgusting. Why the hell would you eat that?” has me barging through the door and growling, "She's pregnant, you idiot. Leave her alone."

  Jackson's eyes meet mine and an understanding passes between us in the exchange.

  He's the only one who knows about Lou-Lou and the baby...and the look in his eyes right now tells me that he just put two and two together and figured out my real reason for moving out and away from everyone.

  Alyssa looks up in my direction and smiles as I hear Momma's footsteps approaching behind me.

  She then shoots Tyrone a nasty look and slathers more mustard and ice cream on her pickle. "Where's Shelby?" She inquires between mouthfuls. "She's usually around to keep you in line."

  "Very funny,” he responds. “She'll be here in a few. She's on the computer looking at favors for the engagement party next month."

  "I can't wait,” Alyssa says without stopping for air. “It's going to be so fun. Did she tell you I found the perfect tablecloth pattern and the—"

  "Thanks a lot, Tyrone. See what you started?" Jackson mumbles and I take the opportunity to pull out my phone and check for an update from the P.I. team.

  "I think it's wonderful him and Shelby are tying the knot. Question is...when are you two lovebirds getting married?" Momma chimes in and I inwardly groan on behalf of Jackson.

  "I figure we'd focus on one thing at a time, Momma," Jackson says as he places a hand on Alyssa's belly. "You know, get out of jail first, have the baby—and then get married."

  Out of the corner of my eye I see Tyrone shoot me a glance before he raises his beer in the air and yells, "The American dream!"

&nb
sp; Momma rolls her eyes and Jackson and I burst out laughing.

  "Alright, enough of this girly wedding talk," Tyrone says, turning his head to look at us. "Let's watch the sports channel."

  I type out another text to the P.I. team and one to my own men and press send. I'm sliding my phone back inside my pocket when Anne Walley's voice causes me to pause.

  "Hello and good evening, New York. This is Anne Walley at WKWNY bringing you a very special interview with former mayoral candidate—John Travine."

  "Why the fuck are they interviewing him?" Jackson barks.

  "Shit," Tyrone mutters, trying to change the channel.

  "Leave it on," Alyssa snaps. "I-I want to hear this. Maybe he'll mention something about my mom."

  Remorse hits me because Alyssa wouldn't be in the position of

  needing to watch a news report featuring her crappy stepfather in order to find out how her mother is doing if it wasn't for my father taking the life of her real father.

  My eyes zero in on the television, because I'd be lying if I said I wasn't curious about what the shit-head is doing on the news in the first place.

  Taking the place of the most notorious mob boss has its perks...including being privy to certain information—as well as being able to pay enough cash to corrupt politicians and the like to ensure certain outcomes.

  Outcomes like John Travine never running for mayor again.

  Not after the way he treated Alyssa after her sex tape went viral. And definitely not after hearing from Jackson that he likes to beat her mom up.

  Anne Walley flashes the camera a smile before the camera turns to face him. "Good evening, Mr.Travine, " Anne Walley starts. "It's been awhile since I've interviewed you...I understand you have some big news to share with all of us."

  My chest fills with dread and I whip my cell phone back out. This assholes got another thing coming.

  "Oh, no," Alyssa whispers, her lower lip trembling. "What if he runs again?"

  "He won't," I assure her as I type out another text and hit the send button. "I'll make sure of it."

  And I will. I have enough power and control over the entire city to put the kibosh on this.

  And if not...I'll get the council involved—no matter what bullshit they're currently trying to pull by teaming up with outsiders—they'll have no choice but to back me on this.

  Because I'm a DeLuca...the last DeLuca...and they need me.

  "I do," John starts. "Although I'm a little late with my announcement...I've decided to run for mayor again."

  "What?" Momma shrieks as Jackson utters a curse.

  "Wow," Anne Walley states. "That is quite the announcement. Tell me, what made you decide to do this now? Especially given, as you've already stated, this is indeed a late announcement. The election is only a few months away."

  "Well, to be perfectly honest," he begins. "I've decided to run because I'm tired of the corruption that's plaguing this great city of ours. The people of New York are being controlled and used as puppets by a particular organization. A savage and dangerous organization...and it's time to put an end to it." He turns to look at the camera. "I want to run and make New York safe again. I want to protect the great people of New York and the city that I love."

  My hands clench at my sides and I stand up. Who the hell does this guy think he is? Not only is he the furthest thing from a martyr...but he's clearly missing most of his brain cells if he thinks it's wise to attack me of all people.

  I'll bury the motherfucker and piss on his goddamn grave.

  "Oh, please!" Momma yells. "What a bunch of manure."

  "My," Anne Walley says with her hand over her heart. "That is quite the statement. Is there anyone in particular you're referring to? Who are you trying to protect us from?"

  His eyes become glassy and I swear I want to put my fist through the screen. He's obviously trying his best to get the sympathy vote from people.

  "John," Anne says as she hands him a tissue. "Are you okay? What happened? Are the people of New York in danger?"

  "Yes," he says, his voice sounding strained and I have to hold myself back from laughing out loud. "And I can't keep quiet about it any longer." He clears his throat and sits up straight. "Although, he's no longer alive...Bruno DeLuca once took something very important from me."

  I fight the urge to roll my eyes. He's got to be kidding me. My father's

  taken a lot of shit from a lot of people.

  But now I've got this asshole's number. He obviously thinks I'm

  weaker than my father was, so he's trying to get a rise out of

  me. Provoke the fucking bear in hopes it will get him what he wants.

  Winning the run for mayor this time around.

  He thinks by threatening me on television in front of the entire city that he'll have me in his pocket.

  Too bad for him he doesn't have the right hand to play...because there's nothing this fuckhead can use against me and there's nothing of his that I can be bribed or threatened with.

  He has nothing that I want.

  I make a mental note to hire extra round the clock security for the apartment complex. I don't think he'd be stupid enough to go after Alyssa...but just in case, I want to be extra cautious.

  And the look on Jackson's face and the way he's holding her even tighter to him now tells me he's thinking the same thing.

  Alyssa looks at me, the curiosity is beyond evident in her expression

  now and I give her a shrug. I honestly have no idea what Bruno DeLuca took from him, but whatever it is—I'm sure as hell not going to be used and threatened with it.

  Because whatever it is—it's not important to me and I couldn't give two shits about it.

  Therefore, I have all the power and control in this situation.

  "What?" Anne questions. "What did he take from you?"

  "Something that can never be replaced," John Travine says as a single tear falls down his face and I snicker.

  That is until he says..."My daughter."

  Confusion spreads across Anne's face as well as everyone else's.

  My father didn't take Alyssa Tanner...fucked up her life...yes. But he's

  making it sound like DeLuca personally held her hostage at some

  point.

  I look at Alyssa and this time, it's her who shrugs.

  None of this makes any sense.

  "Are you referring to Alyssa Tan—"

  "No," he says curtly, cutting Anne off as bolts of nervousness shoot up my spine like razor blades.

  "That is my step-daughter. I'm talking about my daughter. My blood, my pride and joy, my little girl. He took her in the middle of the night when she was only 15 years old. He took her in order to get back at me. He didn't want me going public about all of his illegal dealings...so he threatened me and then he took her from me. It's been almost 10 long years since I've seen her."

  His voice breaks and he exhales sharply as a vise the size of a meteor takes hold of my heart and begins squeezing.

  No.

  "I have no idea if she's still alive...if she's okay."

  This can't be happening.

  I'm delusional...I would know if he was talking about her.

  It's not her. It can't be her.

  Anne gasps. "Oh, my goodness. I had no idea, John." She reaches for his hand. "I'm so sorry."

  I faintly hear the glass I was holding crash to the floor, but my ears are too busy ringing and my blood is too busy boiling to give a fuck about it.

  I take a step closer to the television...every cell in my body wants to rip him right through it and do the most vile things to him.

  Things that haven't even been invented yet.

  He better not be who I think he is...

  Lou-Lou told me her father was dead. She told me DeLuca personally took care of it.

  Hell, I believed it. I know for a fact that Lou-Lou told him everything he did to her. There's no way DeLuca would have let him live.

  Why would DeLuca let him live?
Why would he do this to her? I know he loved her...his reasons for loving her were way beyond fucked up...but I know he did.

  "I am too," John says before turning to face the camera. "So you see, New York? Do you see why I want to keep you all safe? Bruno DeLuca might be dead...but his son is very much alive. And I'm telling you, folks. I know first-hand what the DeLuca's are capable of. And I promise you—Ricardo DeLuca is every bit the man that his father was. In fact, he’s even more dangerous."

  He begins ticking things off with his fingers and I feel my pupils

  constrict. "He is a mobster, he is violent, he is ruthless...and he is controlling the entire city—and you people don't even know it. "

  Beside him, Anne Walley pales and gives the camera a nervous smile. "Now, now...maybe we shouldn't go accusing people without proof."

  He turns to face her. "You want proof, Anne?" He digs a photo out of his pocket and hands it to her as I take another step forward.

  "That was my daughter...is my daughter. Because I refuse to lose faith that she's still out there, just waiting for her dad to save her."

  A few tears trickle down Anne Walley's face. "She's beautiful."

  "I know," John says, and I wish Anne would show the picture of the girl to the camera so I can have actual solid proof that this situation didn't just go from bad to worse, and that my worst fears aren't coming true.

  Instead the idiot reporter dabs at her eyes with a tissue. "You've got my vote, John. I think the city of New York needs a noble man like you to keep us safe."

  She shifts in her seat. "John, I want you to turn and face the camera." When he does, she says, "If you could say one thing to your daughter...what would it be?"

  Another tear trickles down his cheek and I bring my phone to my ear.

  I've never called the council directly before so I'm surprised when it's Ernesto of all people who picks up on the first ring.

  “It's him, isn't it,” I say, because it's no longer a question at this point and everything is beginning to make sense. “He's your new business associate.”

  “Tick-tock,” Ernesto sneers. “Looks like you better find her before he does,” he says before the line goes dead.

  All the air gets sucked out of the room and everything around me