Crossfire (Rarissime Book 1)

by Anna Widzisz

  He was right. Elio's morals were so out of focus that it shouldn't be a problem for him to fuck Savannah for such a trivial reason.

  "More like I don't want to fucking get involved in it. The kid is her brother but she's the one to raise him."

  Flavio looked close to laughter which was an unnerving sight. It stirred the rage inside Elio. The younger Falcone had a penchant for making any situation feel like the most ridiculous one. He was so over the bullshit that it really didn't take a lot for him to lose interest. And that was also a very dangerous thing.

  The boy leaned back against his Bugatti. "Be that as it may, at least we won't have an outsider problem," he commented, completely dismissing the topic.

  That didn't sit well with Elio. He wanted to know what he meant. He looked at him suggestively.

  "Come on, Elio. You know very well that you going a step further with a girl just so that you can fuck her is a challenge you wouldn't turn your back on so quickly. One fuck would develop in you being fuck-buddies at the very least. If she was interesting enough for you to ask her out, I believe it would become even more at one point."

  It sounded absurd, making Elio burst into laughter. He liked challenges but he wasn't a relationship type of guy. No matter the girl. And he knew the rules, outsiders were out of the fucking question when it came to getting involved with them on a personal level. As Sicilians, they were bound to end up with their own women.

  "Pigs would start flying before that happened," Elio ironized.

  "I guess we will never know."

  * * *

  § § §

  * * *

  His foot stepped on the gas, engine roaring to life. The race girl walked out on the track. Long blond hair falling cascaded down her slim shoulders. She was wearing a bright red thing that frankly looked like a bandana tied up in the back and matching leather skirt barely covering her ass. High heels accentuated her lean legs.

  And for the very first time, Elio didn't give a fuck. He was always up for taking race girls for a private ride after it was all over, however, he focused on his race that was about to start. He was up against seven other drivers. Thankfully, none of them seemed to be any competition. Unlike them, Elio was a competitive person who would probably wreck his car if it would ensure his win. Others were pussies, caring about material things much more. Rich, stupid kids looking for a thrill and a way to spend their parents' money.

  He smirked, drawing his attention to the girl once more. She put her hand up, holding a white material. The cars were all in their positions ready to start. Everything happened so fast after Elio heard "go". He floored the gas, changing gear. Thank fuck Flavio was a manual gearbox kind of person. Racing was not for those who barely knew when to change gears. Let alone having an automatic car.

  With ease, he overhauled all other cars, putting a slight distance between them. They were supposed to make ten laps and he intended to keep the first place all the way through. He much rather preferred to drive through the streets, having more freedom, however, the track would have to do this time.

  Elio peered into the side mirror. "Fuck," he murmured, seeing as one of the racers was approaching him from the inner side. He changed gear, slowly, just a little bit, trying to catch the man by surprise. And it helped as he became more cautious as to speeding up. The Enforcer then sped up once again, driving to the right side so that he wouldn't jeopardize his chances of winning.

  Flashing light filled the rearview mirror. There were only two laps left when Elio twisted the steering wheel and took another turn. Ringing sounded in his ears. His nerves were frayed to the quick. In his anxiety, he constructed elaborate rationalizations for why everything would turn out alright. He would fucking win. But still, the nagging voice in the back of his mind spoke of nothing but doom ahead.

  And he couldn't shake off the feeling that it had nothing to do with the race. Another change of gear, a final step on the gas. Determination flashed on Elio's face, focusing on the approaching finish line.

  The shout announcing his triumph blared all around as the man crossed the line, all the other cars on his tail. It was a close call but he still fucking won. Yet, the last thing he felt was happiness. This began to feel so trivial that Elio cursed the moment he believed it would help him blow off steam. It did no such thing.

  He stopped the car, killing the engine and got out. A few people surrounded him at once. He looked at the race girl who smiled seductively to him. Well, maybe she could change it all.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Finally, he came into his bedroom. Savannah was sprawled out underneath the covers of his bed. "Found you,” he said, while slowly closing the door. The smirk creeped out on his lips.

  “Wasn’t hard, was it?” She smiled. He paused and looked at her carefully. Her clothes were on the floor except for the underwear which she was still wearing. The girl got out of his bed and walked over to him. Without hesitation, he leaned in, trying to kiss her. “Not yet,” she teased.

  Slowly, she ran her tongue along her lips, biting them. Hunger shone in her beautiful blue eyes. Even with dim light, he could see them clearly.

  She reached for his shirt, pulled it over his head and pushed him hard onto the bed. Normally Elio wouldn't budge, however, he let his guard down being so close to Savannah. There was no reason to feel threatened. He sank down into the mattress, supporting his weight with his forearms. Savannah removed her black lacy panties before she gracefully sat on the bed next to him.

  A low groan escaped Elio's mouth as she straddled his hips and he could feel the heat of her pussy on his groin. Since he was wearing pants, they were the only thing between them. He put his palms on her thighs and went to sit up, but the girl shook her head and pushed him back down.

  “Are you-” she cut him off by planting a kiss on his lips. Instantly, he kissed back as his hands travelled up from her legs to her back, then neck, and finally rested upon her hair. She moaned, closing her eyes for a second, then she pulled away.

  “No touching,” she whispered.

  Elio frowned, unhappy. “That’s not fair.”

  “Shh.” She silenced him, bringing her finger up to his mouth. Her lips touched his cheek and moved from his jawline all the way to the collarbone. Placing wet kisses all over.

  He became hard underneath her weight. That's all he could take not being in charge. His hands rested on her back as he violently flipped her over. He gripped her wrists and pushed them hard into the mattress so that she couldn't move an inch. His eyes darkened, a possessive look emphasizing his desire to own her body. Their breathing became rough and fast.

  "You're fucking mine, baby girl. Do you understand?"

  “Elio,” she breathed out.

  Then a loud sound spread.

  Elio opened his eyes as the noise ripped him out of his dream.

  The room was dark. He could hear the thunderstorm outside his windows.

  Fuck. He didn't want to wake up in such a moment. But even more, he wished he had never had a sex dream about a girl who he couldn't fucking possess.

  His mattress shifted, making him realize that he wasn't, in fact, alone. His eyes moved to the right. Next to him, was a naked girl who must have woken up due to his sudden movement. She leaned on her hands, observing the man. It was the race-car girl.

  She smiled sleepily. "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice ripping through his head like a nail screeching on glass.

  He got up, pulling on his boxers, ignoring that he had a hard-on because of the dream.

  "Let me take care of that," she said, pointing at his groin.

  Elio shook his head. "By the time I get out of the bathroom, you're to be gone," he hissed and disappeared behind the doors, leaving her alone. At this point, he didn't even care if she stole from him.

  * * *

  § § §

  * * *

  "Did you have a nice night?" asked Fabro bitterly the moment Elio's car pulled up in front of their father's nightclub. He obviously had a
lready heard about his twin winning the race. It couldn't go unnoticed in Las Vegas. Especially in the underworld circle the man was a part. Also, it was a fucking spectacular win.

  Elio wouldn't give his brother the satisfaction of knowing that the last thing he would describe his night as was "nice". It was as far from it as humanly possible. He simply ignored the question, waiting for Fabro to get in the car. They were supposed to pay a visit to one of the bar owners who’d recently refused to cooperate with Gastone. It would be far from a civil conversation, however, Elio appreciated that kind of distraction at this moment. He was eager to use his fists to assure himself that he wasn't losing his touch. Because that's how he felt.

  "Why are we going to his house? Won't the fucker be in his bar by now?" asked Elio, changing the topic.

  In the corner of his eye, he saw Fabro shaking his head. "I instructed our cousin to watch him until we come. It’s good that he is still home. If his family is in there, they might just be the incentive we need."

  Elio nodded not really caring what the job would come down to. As long as he could beat the shit out of the man, he was set. Somehow he didn't think his twin would help. Dressed in his best suit, coming back from some business meeting, he will do the talking. And even if Elio was, too, wearing formal clothes, he didn't give a damn about it. That's how they worked - Fabro as the brain and mouth of the operations, Elio as hands.

  When they were on the outskirts of Las Vegas, Elio stopped the car a few houses down the street so at the very least the family they were paying a visit to wouldn't try to run as soon as they saw them pulling up. Walking up, their cousin Marcello was already waiting. He nodded towards the men as a form of a greeting then adjusted his holster. He had just been initiated, so his tasks were still small. He couldn't engage on his own. Even after becoming a fully pledged Made Man, they had a trial period to see what kind of job they might do later on, also whether they were any good for it. Marcello was getting there, crazy fucker taking after his lunatic mother - Gastone's sister.

  The house was long and narrow, perhaps only thirteen feet wide at the front, but it stretched back. It was two stories high. The wooden framed sash windows were propped open. A small rose garden had been planted in the front, and although it had obviously once been carefully cared for, it was now riddled with weeds.

  "Is there a back entrance?" asked Fabro.

  Marcello nodded. "There is and I think they're all in the house now."

  "All means what?"

  "The fucker with his wife and two girls of school-age," explained Marcello, crossing his arms.

  "Alright, I will go from the front with Fabro, you take the back," said Elio to the man and then they separated.

  It wasn't their first time. Surprisingly, they were doing it much more than thought possible. As if people really had no self-preservation. Especially men who had dicks in the places where their heads should have been. Being in the mafia could give a Made Man that kind of advantage to speak up. Unless it was to the Capo dei Capi. However, outsiders didn't have that excuse yet still acted as if they had. As if they were equal.

  Fuck no.

  Raising his hand, he knocked on the door and immediately heard muffled voices from within the house. The female cries sounded giving the men the opening to go inside. They busted the door open with one powerful kick, watching as it fell out of the hinges, crashing on the floor. They were met with the terrified faces of a woman and her girls. The mother was pushing her kids up the stairs. Which Elio laughed at. What would they do? Jump from the fucking window and risk killing themselves on the way down? A wiser choice would be to try the back door. Marcello was there and they couldn't really get out, however, it still seemed like a better choice if they wanted to escape. However, one of the girls, a brunette with ponytails and a doll hugged to her chest, stood frozen. She was watching Elio with wide eyes. Her cheeks were wet from tears but the fear shadowing her expression completely paralyzed her. As if she were cemented to the floor.

  At once Elio felt the need to shake some sense into her. Girls should fight, feel the need to survive no matter what. He appreciated the will to live more than the foolish force that stopped all senses. He smiled darkly, looking at the mother who still tried to drag her daughters upstairs.

  The owner at once swung at Elio, who skillfully blocked all of his moves even with his eyes on the women, pushing him on the wall and grabbed him by the neck. His fingers tightened allowing little to no air. The man's face went red as he struggled to breathe. Elio smirked, bringing his full attention to the man at last. Feeling a throbbing pulse under his fingertips, he bashed the owner's body into the wall once again. This time harder. A loud crack echoed.

  It wasn't the spine as he was still standing, however, the pressure the Enforcer put into the move might have caused a broken collarbone as one side hit harder into the wall.

  He could already imagine the pain if it, in fact, was what he suspected. Elio himself had experienced through a broken collarbone quite a few times and it always hurt like a bitch. The only difference was that he got off on the pain. Because he was used to it.

  "Are you going to behave or should we take care of your family first?" he asked, motioning to the women with his head. Fabro had been blocking their way up the stairs and Marcello'd appeared beside him.

  There were no words that came out of the man's mouth, annoying the Enforcer.

  "I fucking cannot hear you," he said, loosening his grip ever so slightly.

  He nodded, his eyes flashing in agreement.

  Elio grabbed the man by his shirt and dragged him to the living room.

  Fabro was standing with his hands in his pockets, speaking calmly to the man, who at this point was already tied up to a straight-back chair. Around his waist and chest clothesline cord dug into his rumpled black t-shirt. His lip bled after being greeted by Elio with his fist for good measure. In the corner of the room, the kids and wife were silently crying and begging them to stop. Marcello was just next to them in case they tried to run again. Their intention wasn't to hurt anyone other than the bar owner. However, he didn't have to know that. As long as he was afraid that something could happen to his family, they had this slight advantage. Whether the man would die today or not, it wasn't yet certain.

  And with the fact that Fabro practically hated women, he could feel like killing them all.

  The owner hadn't answered any questions as of yet, really making his chances of coming out of this alive extremely small. It made Fabro angry but Elio was quite content with this turn of events. Apparently, threatening the family wasn't enough. Then the man spat in Fabro's face.

  At once, Elio pulled the chair back, drew the gun and shoved it into his mouth as far as possible. The man started choking on it. The wife screamed, frightened as she watched her husband slowly make his life seem meaningless to keep on living. The man didn't expect such a thing because he didn't know Elio and what he was capable of. His finger twitched from the desire to blow his brains out with one small gesture. It had nothing to do with him disrespecting his twin and everything with satisfying his own fucked up urges. Otherwise, he'd gladly applaud him for doing something that he was thinking about more times than he could count.

  "That's not very nice," he ticked, moving the gun slightly as it rattled against his teeth.

  Fabro wiped the saliva off his forehead. He was on the edge now more than before. "Let's start again," he said. "And this time I advise you to consider your actions."

  When Elio recognized the agreement in his eyes, he took the gun from his mouth but still kept it close, pointed at the man's temple. Just in case. At the same time, he nodded towards Marcello so that he'd stop the women from interrupting them with their screams. It was fucking annoying and certainly not needed.

  "From this day on we are taking forty percent of your monthly earnings. It'd be less, however, your lack of cooperation angered us."

  Then they waited. Waited for the man to refuse one last time or agree upon the
proposition. Whichever it would be, the Famiglia would come out of this better than he and his family.

  "Just agree," cried the wife.

  Elio smirked. Even she knew that it was a lost cause. It's better to be alive with less money than dead.

  "Listen to her," prompted Fabro, getting up from the couch. He came a few steps towards them, his arms crossed. He knew they had won this fight. Like any other. Seeing a barely-there nod, he sent Elio a meaningful look and left the house to wait in the car. That's the end of this work but the beginning for Elio. He put back the gun in his holster. His fingers stretching as his face glowed with excitement. Then he kicked his leg out in the man's chest, making the chair swing back and he collapsed on the ground, hitting his head against it.

  Indeed, just the beginning of his work.

  Chapter Seventeen

  She was jogging, heart pounding in her chest. Perhaps a little while ago she would have balked at the idea of running so far and fast, now she relished the prospect. She could finally think clearly. The mess that had become her mind was no longer holding her back as she kept on going, breathing heavily. It was still not something she was used to but slowly it became her routine each day. Aiden went to visit Frank downstairs when she needed time to herself.

  The warm humidity of the city made her feel sticky and suffocated. Her clothes and hair slick with perspiration clung to her skin. She swatted another pesky insect. Sweat rolled down her skin in thick, salty beads. Her skin felt like it was roasting. She clutched at her knees as she reached the diner she worked in. Today she had a day off, however, she was to come for a bonus payout. As old-fashioned as Hunter could be, he sometimes preferred to hand the money in person if it was for any additional hours spent working. And those Savannah had a lot.