by Jamie Zakian
“Why?”
Vinny’s breath flowed over Sasha’s lips, drawing her closer. Their chests rubbed together, sending sparks that finally kick-started her defunct heart.
“If I heard your voice, I would’ve came running back and I can’t go there. Everywhere I’d look, I’d see her.” The her could have been her mother, Candy, or the teenage girl she could never be again. There were too many ghosts lingering in her holler, too many reasons to stay away to pick just one.
A tear snuck loose, rolling along Sasha’s cheek. Vinny pulled her close, and their lips connected. His entire body trembled, unless it was the quake of her own muscles ricocheting into him. She ran her fingertips along the ripples of his chest. The tongue probing her mouth, rough hands gripping her waist, pushed her limits of self-control to the brink of nonexistent.
Sasha grabbed onto Vinny’s belt, and he shoved her away.
“No!” he yelled, the pain in his voice a sliver of the pain warping his face. “You can’t do that. Not even the great Sasha Ashby can fuck her way out of this one.”
“That’s…” rude, right, a stab to the confidence, “not who I am anymore.”
“You changed your name, to what?” Vinny didn’t look surprised, more like he was calling her out.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Why don’t you wanna tell me? Embarrassed?” Vinny pulled Sasha forward, patting her down. “Where’s your wallet?”
“Stop!” She elbowed him in the gut, and a gun cocked behind her. “Guys, it’s cool.” She turned, staring down the barrel of AJ’s revolver.
“Step aside, Sasha. This punk’s getting a lesson on how to treat the Lazzari family.”
The pathetic goons who probably followed AJ to the bathroom chuckled and cracked their knuckles. These guys didn’t know Sasha very well, ain’t seen her mad yet. Vinny stepped back. Smart guy. He could tell she was about two throat slashes away from a huge mistake.
Sasha walked forward until the gun pressed into her ribcage. “No.”
A shotgun cocked, and one of Vinny’s doppelganger prospects crept into the light, aiming double barrels at them all.
“Let’s go,” Sasha said, pushing AJ into his lackeys.
The prospect backed away, keeping his gun on them as Sasha shuffled the men toward the parking lot. Once AJ holstered his revolver, she looked back at Vinny. “You need to get the fuck out of this city, right now.” Her eyes begged for him to listen and pleaded for forgiveness. “Please.”
Vinny grabbed a backpack off the bed and pushed his prospect, who still held the shotgun tight, toward the semi across the lot. “We’re gone.”
Sasha watched Vinny climb into the driver’s seat of her father’s old International, waiting for him to look back. He didn’t. That old motor whistled to life, sending chills down her spine, and Vinny didn’t look her way once. Sasha turned from the whoosh of airbrakes, the gleam of a trailer-less semi rolling by. Those things would only cloud her mind, land her at the bottom of the Hudson.
“Look, AJ—”
“You might have my father fooled, but you’re no Lazzari.”
“Dante is my father. I don’t like it any more than you do, trust me.”
AJ inched forward, bumping up against Sasha’s chest. “I’d kill you in a heartbeat if I could.”
“That’s sweet.” Sasha patted AJ on the shoulder, savoring the frenzy spread across his face. “I appreciate you handling Dante’s interests while he’s away. I’d appreciate it more if you’d continue to do that.”
“Fucking hilarious,” AJ opened the door to his black sedan, hurling a sharp glare, “how you think I need your permission.”
“What the fuck is your problem?” Sasha grabbed onto AJ’s door, stopping him from slinking into the car. “Are you ornery because your father prefers my company, or just disgusted with yourself because you wanna fuck your cousin?”
AJ rocked in place, his cheeks shuffling through every shade of red. “Nasty, inbred, hillbilly fuck.”
Sasha blew a kiss, backing away. A smirk lingered on her lips as AJ dropped into the passenger seat. An engine revved, and she stumbled back from the peel of wheels taking off. AJ was one lucky asshole. If she didn’t have shit to do, he would have been the one getting a lesson on what happened to a person who pissed off a nasty inbred hillbilly fuck. Sasha walked to her own awaiting sedan and slid into the backseat.
“That was some premium looking out guys,” she said, her stare shifting between the two men in the front.
Marco shrugged, starting the car. “Boss told me to look out for you. Boss told me to look out for AJ. What am I supposed to do?”
Smart guy. Must be how he’d survived this life for so long. Sasha should take a page from Marco’s book, lay low, see how it all played out, except she was a fucking idiot.
“Take me to Tony’s house.”
“It’s late,” Marco said, the way one would dismiss a child.
Leather crinkled as Sasha leaned back, crossing her arms. One glimpse in the rearview mirror and Marco hit the brakes, busting a U-turn.
***
It must have been the lack of weed because here Sasha stood, at the boss’ home, unannounced, past eight. Like a fool who wanted to eat a bullet, she pressed the doorbell. Before the last chime could sound, the door flew open.
“I’ve been expecting you,” Antonio said, holding out his arm to invite Sasha in.
“Really?” Sasha kept her stare low, hurrying past the pictures of dark eyes that lined the hall.
“Yeah. You’re here to say goodbye.”
Sasha turned, catching a set of those dark eyes in real life. Letting people down had become the norm in her life, but that didn’t take away the sting of the act. “I’m sorry. I disappointed you.”
“No.” Antonio smiled, traipsing toward Sasha with his arms out. “I’m proud of you. Family is what matters.”
A soft hug wrapped around Sasha’s body, holding tight. It was a different kind of embrace, warm and inviting, unlike any she’d experienced before.
“Come back soon.” Antonio drew back, rubbing the sides of Sasha’s arms before drifting away. “Even if it’s just to visit.”
“I will. Thanks, Tony.”
“There’s going to be a lot of heartbroken women in Queens,” he said, opening the front door. “This is yours.” He grabbed a briefcase from the small table beside the door, holding it out.
“What’s this?”
“Fifty G’s. Your earnings, for the work you’ve done the last seventeen months.”
“I can’t.” Sasha waved her hands, backing into the doorway. “You’ve already done too much, getting me out here, setting up my physical therapy.”
“It’s yours.” Antonio shoved the case into Sasha’s hand. “Besides, I have a lot of spoiling to make up for.”
After another hug, Sasha left the closest thing to family she’d ever grasped. To put distance between herself and Antonio could only be for the best, since the things she cherished always ended bloody.
***
Vinny
“That was…intense,” Cash said, sparking a joint.
Vinny gripped the steering wheel, barreling down on the gas. He could strangle Otis right now for making him bring backup. If Cash wasn’t sitting in the passenger seat, he would’ve pretended this jumblefuck never happened. He’d go back home and admit Dez was right, that Sasha was dead. Then he’d drink ‘til that bitch was washed from his memories.
“Yeah,” Vinny mumbled, easing off the gas just a tad. “Good thing you didn’t have to use the shotgun. The spray would’ve hit me.”
“I got slugs in there.” Cash leaned against his armrest, holding out the joint. “But I was talking about that kiss.”
A groan burst from Vinny’s mouth as he snatched the joint. This was fucking great. Fucking Otis was a dick and a half.
“Don’t tell Dez about that shit,” Vinny said in a harsher tone than he intended. “I got enough problems with him.” He hit the
joint twice before he decided he wasn’t passing it back. “In fact, don’t tell anybody. Not your brother, cousin, Otis, not even your fucking priest.”
“I won’t.” Cash squirmed in his seat, must’ve figured out he wasn’t getting the joint back. “It’s just…” More fidgets, followed by the tap of boots, erupted from the passenger seat. “I didn’t know Sasha was crazy in love with you.”
That brought a snicker to Vinny’s lips. For providing him seconds of comical relief, Cash earned the joint back. “She’s not in love with me. Sasha can only love Sasha.”
“Uh, no. The way she looked at you, it was movie-type shit.”
Dumb bastard didn’t get it. They’d never see Sasha again. Well, maybe at her funeral, which would be soon judging by her new friends.
“At least we got to see the big city,” Cash muttered, handing Vinny a stub of a joint.
Vinny peeked in the rearview mirror, glimpsing the twinkle of city lights. Sure, it looked nice, from the outside. Inside, it was cold, dirty, ugly. The perfect place for Sasha.
***
Sasha
It only took five minutes in a stairwell and an entire joint for Sasha to work up the nerve to open Rosalie’s door. She walked into the apartment, stopped short by the scent of garlic bread and weed, her favorite combination.
Rosalie popped her head out from the kitchen, a smile on her cherry-red lips. “You’re home late. Bad day?” Teased hair flowed as Rosalie rushed forward, peeling the flannel shirt from Sasha’s shoulders.
“Yeah, it’s been…different. Listen, babe—”
“Oh, no.” Rosalie pushed Sasha onto the couch, climbing atop her lap. “You think I’m letting you out the door to play gangster with them boys all night?” Soft skin glided along Sasha’s cheek, a tongue grazing her bottom lip. “Not until you play with me first.”
“Rosy—”
“Don’t Rosy me.”
Rosalie unbuttoned her tight leather top, letting loose the luscious breasts trapped within, and Sasha’s mind went blank. Luckily, her hands and mouth knew what to do. She gripped onto the ass riding her lap, running her lips over Rosalie’s hard nipples. The sweetest gasp flowed from the woman in her arms. It drove Sasha’s teeth to bite down on soft flesh, bringing much louder moans forth to tickle her ears. There was something, something she came here to do besides make a woman cum. Whatever the fuck it was, it would have to wait. Tan skin shuddered under her touch, tight pants peeled off to reveal lacy panties, and those long legs opened up to her.
Sasha licked a path from knee to thigh, biting every time Rosalie squirmed. A light punishment, for not taking it. She clutched onto Rosalie’s hips, pulling her to the edge of the couch. A thin strip of lace panties stood between the tip of her tongue and the heat just beyond it. Stupid fabric, thinking it could hold her back. Sasha pushed the panties aside, sinking deep between Rosalie’s thighs.
Chapter Three
About halfway through a cigarette, Sasha’s brain clicked back on. On a scale of one to asshole, she was a triple dick. The most uncool thing to do was fuck a chick then leave town, and that’s exactly what was about to go down. At this point, the only option was to get the hell out of this apartment as quick as possible.
Sasha scooted away from Rosalie’s wandering hands, pulling on her pants. “Look, Rosy.” She kept her back turned, dressing at lightning speeds. “I gotta leave the city for a while. There’s no point in you waiting around for me, since I don’t know when or if I’ll be back.”
A peek over the shoulder revealed one furious woman, and Sasha darted her eyes away.
“No, you didn’t. You did not just fuck me then break up with me.”
Rosalie jumped up off the couch, and Sasha scurried back. It was a goddamn stroke of luck she’d already loaded her gun in its holster, because that feisty Italian broad was the shooting type. When Rosalie hurried into the bedroom, Sasha headed for the front door. Knives, bullets, pot and pans could start flying at any moment, and she was smack-dab in the danger zone. She didn’t even get a chance to grip the door’s knob before Rosalie stormed back into the room. The woman held no weapons, just an armful of cargo pants and flannel shirts.
“Here’s your shit, bitch.” Rosalie opened the window and tossed the clothes out. “You can take all the crap you bought me too!” Out went the stereo receiver, then the VCR. Rosalie struggled to lug the TV to the window, and Sasha ran in front of her.
“Come on, babe.” Sasha took the TV. Big mistake, because Rosalie used her now free hands to toss slaps.
“Babe! I’m not your babe.”
Sasha dropped the TV back on the stand, looking out the window just in time to catch some dude rifling through her stuff. “Hey!” She lifted the end of her shirt, flashing the butt of her gun. “Don’t touch that shit.” The douchebag scampered off, and Sasha turned back to face Rosalie, just in time to duck out of the path of an ashtray that sailed toward her head. Glass shattered, which was Sasha’s cue to make a swift exit.
Rosalie latched onto her arm before she could get one foot across the threshold.
“Don’t go. I love you, Sasha. Please, don’t leave.”
Rosalie’s arms circled Sasha’s waist as she skated her lips on Sasha’s neck, but the desperation beneath her kisses soured their sweetness. She pried Rosalie’s hands from her body, heading for the stairs. “Goodbye, Rosy.”
“Fuck you! Whatever redneck skank you’re running to, I hope she’s worth it.”
The woman’s whiny city screech echoed down the stairwell, flowing over the random shouts to shut the fuck up. Sasha stepped onto the sidewalk, taking a deep breath. One whiff of fresh air was all she wanted, but a piss-scented breeze was what she got. An endless supply of assholes and an unending reek of funk. The spirit of this city was strong enough to creep inside a person, taint their soul with its dirtiness.
“Not me,” Sasha yelled to herself, like all the other crazy people on the streets of Queens. She grabbed her clothes off the sidewalk, throwing them in the bed of an old pickup she’d bought for three-hundred bucks. The picture tapped her chest as she climbed into the truck. This time, aside from the standard scraping of her heart, the photo stirred a frenzy of excitement in her stomach. Sasha pulled the picture from her pocket, wedging it into the dashboard. That kid’s silly smile was infectious, sticking to her own lips as she drove from the concrete jungle.
***
Dez
A semi’s rumble shook the clubhouse floor, and Dez jumped up from the desk. His hip bumped a chair, knocking it to the floor as he dashed to the window. He hated that thump in his chest. Hope swelled every time his brother took that rig out, crashing down in an unbreathable wave of sorrow when he returned without Sasha. Maybe this time, it would be different.
Wood creaked as Dez dug his nails into the windowsill. A small chance existed. Sasha could’ve been taken, held against her will this entire time. The larger odds that she ran off and Vinny lured her back were just as good. At this point, he didn’t give a fuck. Seventeen months, twenty-two days, and five hours had passed since he’d gotten the call that she’d woken up. He might finally be able to look into her eyes again.
Vinny’s boots hit the gravel, and Dez saw that look. The look didn’t reflect the usual mix of hope and disappointment. His brother held a broken gaze. There wouldn’t be any more searches. Sasha wasn’t with him, and she wouldn’t be coming back.
A sharp ache pierced Dez’s chest. His tight shoulders dropped into a slump, his body crashing against the wall. Tears clouded the backroom from sight, blurred the glossy table that had been long abandoned.
“What’s wrong, Daddy?”
Dez stood up straight, wiping his eyes. “Nothing, buddy.” Looking down at his boy almost broke his shit to pieces. All he saw was Sasha in that cute little face. It didn’t stop him from scooping Tyler into his arms and holding tight. “Uncle Vinny’s back. Let’s go say, s’up.”
***
Special Agent Philip Daniels
“It was smart, to tip the Archer kid off to her location.”
A compliment from the director of the Federal Bureau of Investigations himself, and a glass of scotch to boot. Daniels reeled in his glee, keeping it professional. This case would make his career, change his life, earn him back the respect of his wife and children. A RICO case, the biggest he’d ever seen, spanning almost every criminal organization in America. It had already claimed the life of one agent. He’d be famous for closing the Ashby case. They’d make movies about him, casting Mel Gibson. It wasn’t a far stretch, in his opinion.
“Now what? Should I pick her up?” Daniels asked, straining to keep the eagerness from his voice.
“No.” Smoke wafted around the director’s face as he puffed on a stogie. “Wait until she gets on the compound. That way, we’ll have an excuse to comb through the entire wretched place, look for our missing agent.”
“Don’t worry, sir. If there’s any trace of agent Prescott, a tooth, a speck of blood, I’ll find it.”
***
Vinny
After a truck ride from hell and a visit to a place that might have actually been Hell, all Vinny wanted was a pile of joints and a fresh bottle of whiskey. He wasn’t gonna get it. Before his ass even left the semi’s seat, Otis and Kev were on the clubhouse porch.
Vinny jumped from the truck, eyeing his room above the garage. Otis and Kev closed in, and he almost bolted for the stairs.
“Uncle Vinny!”
Tyler ran across the lot, pushing past Otis. That little guy’s bright smile, his stubby legs peddling across the lot, wiped the pain from Vinny’s mind. He knelt down, and Tyler nearly mowed him over. Tyler clinging to his neck was much better than a pile of joints, by far.