Crossfire (Rarissime Book 1)

by Anna Widzisz

  Contents

  Dedication

  Part I

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Part II and III

  Acknowledgments

  More from the author

  About the Author

  Crossfire

  Anna Widzisz

  CROSSFIRE

  Copyright © Anna Widzisz, 2020

  All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any matter whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, business, events and places are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously.

  Book and cover design by Books and Moods

  Edited by Zuzanna Raczyńska and Miruna Popescu

  * * *

  Trigger warning:

  “Crossfire” contains graphic violence, sex and adult situations some may find offensive.

  To those who carry the weight of the world on their shoulders and no one even notices. You're doing great. Keep going.

  Part I

  Chapter One

  Sacrifice is what we do for the people we love.

  That has been Savannah Quinn’s mantra ever since she was a little girl. In the darkest night when fear and sadness were all she felt, she kept on repeating it to herself. When everything was wrong, this had to be enough. Because she had nothing else to help her make it through another hardship.

  At first, she didn't believe it. Love was a distant, intangible feeling in her own life. No one had ever truly shown her what it was.

  For who could have?

  She was fairly certain that her parents weren't familiar with this emotion either. Towards each other, or her. Father only ever acknowledged her existence when he stumbled home drunk. A high level of alcohol running through his veins. Exposing a child to this sight was anything but love. Yet there was something much worse. The man not only failed at showing her love, but he also felt content to release his inner monster when the alcohol started washing off, leaving him angry.

  That's when the dread overflowed her body. That's where the fear peaked within her.

  She remembered it as if it were yesterday. His big hand rising along with the hair on her neck. She couldn't look. She always closed her eyes and waited for the blows. Each one was like a testament to her miserable existence.

  It happened many times, to the point where she couldn't remember her life before.

  Bruise after bruise.

  Cut after cut.

  And they always healed, however, they remained as something more than skin deep.

  That's how little she meant to James Quinn.

  What's worse? People saw that but no one bothered to ask. School was only ever meant to teach useless things. Only booklore. Teachers looked at Savannah's tired face, covered with questionable blemishes and turned their heads the other way. Pretended as if nothing was wrong. Kids were reckless so they could do it to themselves. And even though the girl would never tell anyone the truth, she wished someone cared enough to ask.

  The system was broken. It had nothing to do with saving those in need. Women, children, orphans, single mothers, abused wives. They had no one to turn to. Because for people it was easier to tell yourself that nothing was wrong than to fix it.

  The only relief Savannah experienced was when the man left. After a long and extremely loud fight with his wife, he grabbed his things and that was the last they saw of him. It was sudden. Out of nowhere. And because of that, Savannah kept asking her mother about it for a while. Not realizing that her nightmare, caused solemnly by her father, was over.

  She heard the fight, but her mind decided to block it out and she couldn't remember what it was about. She was sitting in the corner of her little brother's, Aiden, nursery, looking after him. Making sure that he wouldn't wake up.

  She was glad that the boy was so little that he'd never in a million years remember any of this. And as she came to terms with her father leaving, she believed it was the end of her horrors. With bruised arms, legs and cuts all over her face and stomach, Savannah believed in a better day.

  What a stupid girl she was.

  Yet, she hadn't realized it until she saw her mother following her husband's footsteps from a month ago, dragging her suitcase down the stairs. In the middle of the night. No words, excuses or apologies. Leaving her children.

  That's how little she meant to Elizabeth Quinn.

  Savannah was eighteen at the time. Barely of age. And without any knowledge of how the world worked. All she ever knew was pain and failure. Quite frankly, the only thing she was sure of then, was that she was on her own, with a three-year-old to protect. Something she sure as hell didn't know how to do and needed to figure out. Yet giving him up was never something she considered.

  That's where the real struggle began.

  Those beatings? Name callings? That was nothing compared to the nightmares lurking in the shadows, simply waiting for her to get back on her feet just to knock her down again. Crush her to the point where she wasn't certain she could do it anymore.

  But she did.

  Long sleepless nights, worried that she wasn't going to make it through another day. Spoiler alert - she always did. For two years she was giving her all. Being the best role model possible to Aiden. Taking care of him, helping and, most importantly, protecting him.

  Something she had never experienced herself.

  This night, too, she was fighting against the tiredness. After an almost thirteen-hour shift, she could barely keep her eyes open. But when she glanced at the clock above the entrance, there were still twenty minutes left before she could close the diner and go back home.

  ”Savannah, I’m going to close the kitchen earlier. Would you mind taking care of everything?” asked Hunter, approaching the girl. He was smiling, however, his eyes betrayed how tired he really was. Probably even more than Savannah herself.

  Hunter Gordon was a sixty-year-old man who owned the place. He was there every day, usually in the kitchen.

  Savannah nodded. ”Sure thing. Go home and rest,” she said, knowing that his main priority was to go to his wife because of her birthday. He had mentioned it a few times today. He was clearly eager to leave and spend at least a little bit of time with her. ”Wish Judy happy birthday from me.”

  Looking around the diner, she made a mental list of the things to do before closing. There was no one left since it was almost closing hour. They usually had the biggest crowds in the morning for breakfast and dinner in the late afternoon. She could ha
ndle being by herself for a couple of minutes.

  It wasn’t the first time she was the last to leave. Out of all workers, she was the one who took it upon herself to work longer shifts even if it meant going home late in the night. She was making decent money due to the tips, however, the additional payout was greatly needed.

  ”See you tomorrow, Savannah.” Hunter saluted and left quickly.

  So with a plan set, she started dealing with the hardest tasks first.

  The little doorbell rang, causing her to think that she'd forgotten to close the door when Hunter had left so that no one would get any ideas to come inside. Yes, it was rude since the closing hour was still five minutes away, but without the cook, it was the right thing to do. If she tried her hand at making food, people would only get food poisoning. If it was even eatable. And just like that, she was going to apologize to the customers and encourage them to come back tomorrow.

  She turned around and her breath caught in her throat. She was met with the most intense piercing green eyes she'd ever seen. Unable to look away.

  Chapter Two

  A man stood in the doorway, dressed in a black, tailored suit. Tall and muscled, with broad shoulders and tanned, olive skin. The sleeves were rolled up, revealing strong, defined arms with his hands hidden in the pockets of his pants. His white dress shirt was unbuttoned at the collar and the tie was undone, loosely hanging from his neck. The clothes made him look like a combination of a model and a businessman after hours. However, more of the first than the later. He was clearly young. Perhaps in his early twenties. Close to Savannah's age, surely.

  A strange sensation settled in the pit of her stomach as he moved a few steps closer.

  Her coworker Megan's words flashed in her mind. She'd described a certain man who had shown up here the last time she'd been closing the diner together with Hunter. It matched, making her realize a ghastly thing. The person standing in front of her was neither a real model nor a businessman. However, they would probably fight her on that.

  Her mouth went dry, fingers started trembling as she was holding a cloth in her palm.

  Elio Conte.

  A soldier for the Las Vegas Famiglia. A dangerous criminal; the one who came here once a month to collect protection money from Hunter. A person who Savannah was alone with right now. She didn't think for a second that her boss forgot about the visit. Using his wife's birthday, he rushed out so quickly that she could not see anything but the dust in his wake.

  Now she acknowledged his behavior the way she was supposed to in the first place.

  As an escape.

  "Hunter is not here. He had to leave earlier. Some kind of emergency." She tried to sound calm but her voice was slightly pitched and her heart behaved like it would jump out of her chest any moment.

  And why the hell did she feel the need to lie for the man who put her in danger's way? It was beyond her.

  Elio regarded her, nodding his head. A barely visible smirk flickered on his face. "I can see that." When he spoke it was like a roll of thunder. His words were soft but Savannah believed that no one ever ignored what he said. "Do you have what I came here for?" he asked.

  He didn't seem angry that Hunter wasn't meeting him. Merely bored.

  Reluctantly, she shook her head. "No, sorry. He forgot to mention where he left the money."

  Again, what's with all the lying? He didn't mention anything because there was no money. Otherwise, Hunter would be here himself to hand it over. Getting on the mafia's good side was always something people aimed to do. It's better to ask for help than beg for mercy.

  The man adjusted his jacket, the material catching on his belt slightly. Savannah's eyes dropped down to the gun that was sticking out from the holster at his hip. She swallowed, imagining the worst-case scenario. Him pointing it at her head, his finger on the trigger about to pull it.

  She tried to stay adamant but as the chuckle escaped Elio's lips, he probably saw past her facade. But whether it was how terribly scared she was of him, or that there was no money, to begin with, she couldn't say. Instead, he sat down in one of the booths, pulling out a packet of cigarettes.

  "Then go and look for it in his office," he said.

  It was a demand that she felt all the way to her toes. Now Savannah was certain that he was playing with her but she wasn't brave enough to say that to him just yet, especially with a big lump in her throat. She turned on her heels in search for something that wouldn't be there. Yet she desperately wanted to be wrong about Hunter. His behavior wasn't calculating and that was the only thing that made her search the whole room chaotically.

  That and the fact that she couldn't imagine doing anything worse than refusing Elio Conte. His order felt like a threat. And you didn't think about what he wanted, you just did it at once. Every time.

  Ten minutes had passed and nothing.

  "Are you going to search all the deserts before you tell the truth?"

  A voice sounded from behind her. She jumped up, swirling around so quickly that she bumped her hand on the desk with such an impact that a streak of pain overwhelmed her body. She hissed but toned it down right away. She didn't want to seem more vulnerable to the man than she already did. Even though she knew she wasn't alone in the diner, and that sooner or later she would have to approach Elio with the truth, he still startled her by showing up in the office.

  "If so, may I remind you that we're in Las Vegas and there are many of those around us," he continued, mocking her.

  Savannah braved herself by looking at him, ignoring the sharp pain in her hand. If it was broken, she'd die. If the man in front of her didn’t kill her first.

  His facial features changed immediately as she met his eyes. He probably wasn't used to people doing that in his field of work. At least not the ones he was dealing with. And Savannah understood why all too well. She was barely able to keep eye contact with him herself. Maybe he hated that? Maybe she should just abandon looking brave because for her to survive this encounter he needed to feel in power?

  He was in power.

  But his expression still wasn't angry. Confused and fascinated at the same time. She took a more careful look at him. He had tousled dark brown hair, which was thick and lustrous. His eyes were mesmerizing, flecks of silvery light danced in them. His face was strong and defined, his features moulded from granite. His body was toned as his muscles perfectly filled his clothes. The cigarette in -between his fingers. As much as Savannah didn't want to see it in such a situation, she found the man extremely handsome.

  His sharp jaw and angular cheekbones moved as his perfect, full lips twisted, amusement all over his face.

  I'm glad you find this situation funny, she thought, however, there was no way she'd ever say it out loud.

  "I do very much." He grinned, making Savannah realize that she, indeed, had said the words and he'd heard them. She turned red and hot. Now she really was in an awful position and the man's smile didn't fool her. Mafia men weren't ones to let others insult them.

  Dread overcame her.

  "Relax, I'm not here to hurt you," he assured her. "You look like you're going to have a heart attack any second."

  "I'm sorry," she whispered, dropping her gaze.

  Elio ticked, puffing away cigarette smoke. "For what? Being scared of my position in the mafia and what I could do, or that your boss fucked with me?"

  She stayed quiet. What could she say right about now that would seem even half-way true? She was mostly sorry about all of that, as well as talking back to him, which he hadn't acknowledged further. Her wittiness showed up in the most horrible time possible.

  What's more, Elio wasn't even afraid of stating that he was part of the mafia, which meant that he wasn't counting on facing any consequences from being so straightforward.

  "I sure hope it's for the first one, because that I could actually get behind. Tell Hunter that I will be back in three days right before closing. If he isn't here, he'll regret it gravely," he said, turned back and moved
towards the front door. Savannah followed him, hoping that he'd actually leave.

  As he was about to push the handle down, he looked at the girl once more, regarding her with the same curiosity as before. "What's your name?" he asked.

  Pause.

  Three deep breaths.

  "Savannah," she let out. It wasn't like she could actually refuse to tell him, even if every fibre of her body wanted to do just that.

  Elio nodded. "I hope to see you again, Savannah. And get that hand checked out, it might be broken."

  He put out the cigarette on the table and then he was gone.

  Perfect, with her schedule, she was supposed to be here when Elio would come back.

  Chapter Three

  Gastone Conte didn’t look up from the stack of documents laying on the table in front of him when Elio came back home. He was clenching a pen tightly, his fingers turning white from the pressure as he was stressing out about another failed business deal he undertook. With all the branches he was trying to expand to, one would think that he could make at least some of them successful. Yet the only ones that were still working, were businesses that had been graciously given to him the moment he became a Capodecina for Noah Falcone. He was losing more than he could afford and money was never there to cover the expenses at the end of the month. So he always burnt the candle at both ends when it was time to pay the percentage of money to Capo dei Capi, looking for some cutbacks.