by Renee Rose
I skip valet parking and park the Beamer myself in Nico’s private parking area. Pepper tumbles out of the car and my chest aches at the way this went down. Being with me put her in danger. Now she’s scared.
And probably done. She’s already hustling away without even looking back at me.
“Hang on, songbird. I’ll walk you up.” I jog to catch up with her.
She pushes through the door, and I see a figure step from the shadows, gun pointed right at her head.
“Pepper, get down!” I draw my gun and fire at the same time I yank Pepper back into the parking garage. He fires back, hitting the door. I wait a beat, and throw the door open and swing through the opening with my gun raised.
A karate chop to the windpipe throws me back. My gun’s knocked loose and it skitters along the floor.
I lunge before I can even see, my eyes smarting, my breath still struggling. I take the guy down, throw punches at his face.
A face I recognize.
Ernie Denesto. A second-rate hitman for hire. No connection with any Family that I know of.
“Who hired you?” I demand.
His gun wobbles in my face. I knock it away, get my fingers around his throat. I squeeze.
I squeeze and squeeze.
Pepper whimpers my name, which only makes me squeeze harder.
“He almost killed you.” Just remembering how close she came to dying makes my vision bleed red.
“Tony! Tony, stop!”
I can’t stop. Have to protect Pepper. I won’t let him endanger her again…
“Tony!”
Fuck.
He’s dead.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. I get up and whirl to face Pepper. The look on her face makes my stomach drop to my feet.
She covers her mouth with her hand, her eyes swimming with tears. “Tony. What have you done?”
I hold my hands out. “Fuck, Pepper. I’m sorry.” I look down at the body below me. “Everything’s gonna be okay. I—”
“No. Not, it’s not. He’s dead.” Her voice wobbles on the last word. She turns and takes off down the hall.
“Pepper!”
“Leave me alone!” she shouts and runs away, into the casino.
I punch the wall, cracking the plaster and busting open my knuckles.
How could I fuck things up this badly?
I wanted to save her.
Now I’ve lost her.
Forever.
Chapter 11
Pepper
I enter the stairwell and run up the stairs toward my suite. Probably not my brightest move, but I didn’t want to stand there and wait for an elevator. My body wants to run. To flee. I need to get away from the violence I just witnessed. And the consequences.
Tony just killed a man.
Tony just killed a man.
Holy shit, Tony just killed a man.
Right here. In the casino.
Granted, it was self-defense. But why was someone trying to kill Tony? And omigod, did he have to kill him?
Yeah, he probably did. The man had a gun. He tried to use it. Hell, he tried to use it on me. I could’ve died just now. Because of my association with Tony.
I don’t really blame Tony. But this underlines the point I’ve been trying to forget from the beginning—Tony is a dangerous man. This is the world he lives in. A world with guns and murder. A world of violence.
I want nothing to do with this. I can barely handle my days as a pop star. Why in the hell would I add such risk to the mix? Just because he opened me to a new world of sex?
Oh God. I stop to rest and catch my breath. I feel like throwing up, although I’m not sure if it’s from seeing a guy strangled to death in front of me or from running up five flights of stairs.
Fuck it, I’ll take the elevator the rest of the way. I push out to the landing and hit the call button.
I keep seeing Tony’s face draining of color, the regret in his eyes when he turned to face me. He wasn’t afraid of being shot at, or attacked. He was afraid of my reaction. Like he knew we were over. This was it.
And he’s right.
I get in the elevator and take it to my floor.
In my room, I throw my shit into a suitcase. I have to get out of this place. Now.
I don’t bother to collect Anton. Or my parents.
Certainly not Hugh.
I’ll text Izzy later. I put on a pair of sunglasses and a Dodgers cap and head outside to hail a cab to the airport. I own a whole big mansion in L.A. that doesn’t feel even a little bit like mine, but my parents are here, so that means it’s empty.
Seems like a good place to crash.
Tony
“Why do you think he was after me?” I kick the laundry cart carrying Ernie Denesto’s body.
“I don’t know. If you hadn’t killed him so dead, we could torture it out of him,” Stefano says drily. He, Nico and Leo met me in the basement to discuss the situation.
I rub my face. I know I fucked up. Big time. I can’t even begin to absorb what I’ve done to my relationship with Pepper.
“Let me guess. Your girl was present,” Nico says.
“She’s not my girl. Not after this.”
Fuck! Panic claws at me—the need to fix this coupled with total impotency. There’s nothing I can do to change what Pepper saw. I can’t make this assassin undead. I can’t wash the blood off my hands. The stains are too deep.
“Where is she now?” Nico asks. The question is deceptively casual, but really, I have a witness on the loose.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “She ran from me.”
“You gotta get that shit in hand,” Stefano warns.
I shoot him a dark look. He’d won his fiancée Corey by essentially holding her hostage after she’d witnessed a ‘situation.’ While I’d love to tie Pepper up and give her orgasms until she forgives and forgets that I’m a killer, I don’t think that shit’s gonna fly. And I’m not the guy who’s gonna force her. And I’ll fucking kill anyone else who tries, my best friends included.
“I’m sure Tony will handle it,” Nico says mildly.
I don’t have it in me to be grateful for Nico’s support. I don’t know how I’m gonna pull off any of this. And the part I especially can’t wrap my brain around is living without Pepper. Letting her go.
But I know that’s what needs to happen. She and I weren’t made to last, no matter how much she captivated me, lit up my world.
“So what’s the plan with this guy?” Stefano kicks the laundry cart.
“I’ll dumpster dump it. Cops will recognize him when they fish him out. They’re not gonna look too hard for his killer. Figure I did society a service today.”
It doesn’t feel that way, though. Not when it means losing Pepper’s regard.
Fuck.
“Good plan. Then figure shit out with Pepper. This is already starting to go off the rails. The last thing we need is Junior coming back and throwing his weight around.” Nico shoves his hands in his pockets.
“You don’t think Junior sent Denesto?” I have to ask it.
“No,” Nico says immediately.
“Definitely not,” Stefano concurs. “Not his style.”
“What if he wanted me gone without you two knowing it was him?”
Nico considers, then shakes his head. “I still don’t think so. You haven’t done shit to Junior. If he were mad, he would’ve punched you in the gut when he was here.”
It’s true. Junior thinks a good beat-down and a heavy dose of fear solves everything. In his world, I guess it does.
“Then who? Any guesses at all?”
“No idea. Too bad you silenced the one guy who could tell us,” Stefano says.
“Enough.” Nico shoots him a sharp look. “What’s done is done. We just gotta figure out where to go from here. Let me see if I can get someone on tracing money deposits to his bank account.”
“Thanks.”
He thumps my shoulder—the macho version of a hug.
I th
ump him back. “I appreciate the support.”
And I do. I know Nico and Stefano have my back. I just wish I believed they could help me this time.
But no one can.
There’s no helping the damned.
Chapter 12
Pepper
Mom: Pepper, where are you? Everyone’s worried.
Me: I’m safe. Taking some time off for a few days.
Mom: You have responsibilities here. I understand you weren’t supposed to leave the Bellissimo. You’re already in a lot of trouble. Hugh is beside himself. Don’t make this worse.
I don’t answer. The mention of Hugh means they didn’t hear me when I said I was done with him. They can worry their little pants off. All of them.
The one person I haven’t heard from is Tony.
I’m not saying I want to hear from him. I don’t.
But I feel the absence of him everywhere. My body grieves his touch. My soul longs for his quiet presence, his protective strength. My heart? My heart breaks and breaks and breaks.
And breaks.
I can’t cry. I’ve tried—I feel like I need to. But I just can’t get the tears to come. Instead, I’m locked in a semi-numb state.
It’s far too much like the one I’d been living in before Tony, and for that reason alone, I want to throw things. Break things. Rant and rave and tear my hair out until something changes.
The good news is I wrote four songs in the last two days.
I haven’t slept, though.
I spend all night waking up and looking for him. We only spent one night together. I mean one sleepover night. So it makes no sense that I’d miss his body in bed. But nothing makes sense.
It doesn’t make sense that a hardened, violent man could be so gentle. Doesn’t make sense that I bloomed in his presence—shook off the sleeping potion that had kept me locked in a stupor for the last few years. The depressive shell I’d retreated into.
It doesn’t make sense that I want to rationalize it all. Make excuses for what he did. Forgive him for choking a man to death.
And yet I already have.
But that doesn’t change the fact that this isn’t a healthy relationship. I can’t be with a man who gets in high speed chases with hitmen. I can’t associate with killers.
And yet all I see is the stark regret on his face when he faced me. And I keep hearing the story he told me about his dad.
I want to weep for that brave, abused boy. The child who learned violence from the cradle, and who used it to make things right in his world. A soldier who lives by a code of honor, despite it all. He believes in loyalty and friendship. He never hurts women.
He wants to make his mother happy and she won’t let him.
Tony what have you done?
I threw the same words at him that she did, without even meaning to. Every time I remember it, I want to puke.
Just like her, I judged him for killing in self-defense.
A buzzer sounds from the front gate. I freeze. I haven’t told anyone where I went—not even Izzy. I half-expect my parents to show up any day, since they live here and I’m not in Vegas anymore, but they wouldn’t ring the bell.
I go to the security screen to see who it is.
There, staring up into the camera, is Tony. He hasn’t shaved in a few days, and the sexy new growth outlines the square line of his jaw. His face is screwed up tight. It makes him appear even more fearsome than usual, but under the thunderous visage, I see worry.
My heart stumbles and falls. I can’t face him. I really can’t.
I don’t even trust myself to see him. Because if I do, I’ll probably fall right back into his arms again.
And that would be a mistake.
I push the button. “Tony.”
“Songbird.”
“How did you know I’d be here?” My voice is better after not talking for two days. It comes out clear.
He scrubs the new beard. “I didn’t. I just thought I’d try.”
He flew all the way to L.A. to try.
“Tony, I want to be alone right now. Please go.”
The muscle in his jaw flexes, standing out even under the stubble. He looks away from the camera, a hard stare toward the house. “I need you to come back to the casino, Pepper.” The tightness in his voice tells me this is the mobster talking, not the man I called my lover.
He could make me. I know that. I saw how easily he broke into Hugh’s house and emptied it. I saw how he disarmed a killer and eliminated the threat. It would be nothing for him to get through my gate and the locks on my front door, throw me over his shoulder and carry me off.
I don’t answer.
Tony closes his eyes like he’s summoning patience.
“Please go,” I plead.
He opens his lids and looks at the camera again. There are dark circles under his eyes like he hasn’t been sleeping. “You have someone on security detail here?”
There’s the man who cares about me.
“Yes. Twenty-four seven surveillance. And I won’t leave the grounds without a bodyguard.” I don’t plan to leave the grounds at all, but I don’t tell him that.
He grunts his approval. “Tell me you’re coming back for the show Friday.” I hear resignation in his voice. Or is it defeat?
My chest tightens.
“Yes. Of course. I’ll fulfill my obligations.” I don’t mean to put a bitter note in my words, but it comes through, anyway.
Tony nods. And that’s it. He doesn’t even say goodbye, just gets in his car and drives away.
And now, finally, the tears fall.
I cry for what we both lost. I cry because Tony Brando honors me enough to give me my freedom and agency, even when under pressure from his Tacone bosses. And also because he didn’t stay and beat down my door and promise he can somehow fix our broken pieces.
I cry until my eyes are puffy and my head aches.
And then I cry some more.
Tony
Leaving Pepper in L.A. was the hardest thing I’ve had to do. I wanted to just pitch a goddamn tent on the sidewalk outside her mansion to make sure she is safe and healthy. But then, I’m the guy with a hitman coming after me, so my presence only endangers her. And she asked me to leave.
I’m not gonna force myself on her. I will never be that guy. I have to respect her wishes, even if it kills me.
I stand now and stare at the empty stage at the Bellissimo.
I’ve never been so lonely in my life. So utterly gutted. Knowing she’ll be back here, singing and dancing on that stage, but she won’t be mine? It kills me.
But I want her to be happy.
I need her to be happy.
And if that means respecting her wishes for distance between us, I will. She deserves that honor from me.
I can’t make myself into something I’m not. Pepper deserves a decent man. One without blood on his hands. One who—aw, who the fuck am I kidding? I drive my fist into the seat back in front of me. No man would ever be good enough for Pepper. There’s no man I could ever see touching her, taking care of her without me wanting to rip his ears off.
If I had nine hundred grand, I would pay off Pepper’s debt and free her from the contract with Junior Tacone in a heartbeat. Then I would quit the Family and beg for a position as her bodyguard. Roadie. Anything to be close to her.
I wouldn’t make her promise me anything. I’d just take care of her. Show her I’m willing to earn back her trust. Make sure she knows how incredible I think she is.
Fuck, does she know?
Would it make any difference?
No. Probably not. She can’t unsee what she saw.
And I can’t change the things I’ve done.
It isn’t lost on me that this situation with Pepper mirrors what went down with my mom. All I wanted to do was protect the women in my life, the women I loved, and the result was losing their love forever.
As if my ma is telepathically connected to me, she picks that moment to call. I close my e
yes, my thumb hovering over the ‘reject call’ button.
Nah, I can’t do it to her. I answer, “Hey, Ma.”
“Tony. How are you?”
“Eh. Hanging in there. How about you?”
“Are you still spending time with that singer? Pepper Heart? She’s such a pretty girl. I keep looking at this picture of the two of you that you sent over. It’s so sweet.”
The gaping hole in my chest widens to Grand Canyon proportions. I rub my head. “No, Ma. Something happened, actually.” I never talk to my mom about real stuff. Not about my job, my life, anything. We keep to the weather and what we ate for dinner. But for some reason, it all comes spilling out now. Maybe there’s too much to keep in. The dam won’t hold.
“What happened?” my mom demands.
“Well,” I draw a breath. Am I actually thinking about telling her the truth? It seems crazy, and yet the only thing to do. “I felt like her life was in danger. And I did what I had to do. Kinda like what happened with you, once. Do you know what I mean?”
“Oh, Tony.” My mom’s voice chokes. In all the years since it happened, she and I have never talked about that night. “Is she all right? Are you all right?”
“Yeah, Ma. We’re safe. But she… well, she’s done with me. I went too far.”
I hear my mom stifling a sob. Madonna. Have I ever seen her cry since that night? I don’t think I have.
I drop my elbows to my knees, pressing the phone against my ear. “Ma, I’m sorry.” I lower my voice. “I know you didn’t necessarily want rescuing, and uh, I know you can’t really forgive me for what I did that night.”
My mom sniffs, but her voice comes out strong. “What are you talking about? Forgive you? For saving our lives? What is there to forgive? I just can’t forgive myself.”
It’s my turn to sound dumbfounded. “For what, Ma?”
I hear stifled sobs. “For not leaving him. Not getting us out of that situation. My fourteen-year-old boy shouldn’t have had to sell his soul to the devil because I was too big a coward to take care of him.”
Fuck I wish I was there to hold her. “Ma, no,” I soothe. “I made that choice on my own. It’s on me. And it hasn’t turned out that bad. The devil’s locked up. I’m running a casino now. It’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I’m a businessman.”