My fingers clench into a fist. I lock it by my side.
The pad of his thumb strokes the back of my hand, calming me. He says, “Take a breath.”
I do. The day is unseasonably warm for New York. A gentle breeze blows, fluttering my hair from my shoulders. Beams of sunlight shoot through the leaves of the tall oaks.
The light catches Tess’s hair, the golden fiery streaks blazing. Today, somehow her sorrow makes her even more stunning than usual. Her long red hair billows behind her in the gentle wind, her creamy complexion only enhanced by the dark circles that ring beneath her brown eyes.
She stands behind Bronson, and next to Rockland, her brother-in-law. Rockland has a protective arm wrapped tightly around her shoulders. Beneath his white suit jacket his shirt is unbuttoned just enough for part of the massive black swirling tattoo that covers his chest and his right shoulder to be seen. He strokes his long fingers over his dark beard, the sun reflecting off his shades. He’s the classic bad boy gangster, but today, standing beside the widow he now protects, he has an even more dangerous edge about him.
Tess clutches a handkerchief in her hand, holding in a sob. She turns, seeking comfort, despair etched in her fine features. She rests her head on Rockland’s shoulder. He tightens his arm around her. Her eyes fly open, her face wrinkling in disgust. Then, as if bit by a viper, her head snaps back. Shocked by what she’s done.
A grimace dances over Rockland’s handsome face. His jaw clenches and his hold around her shoulders tightens.
The two of them have never gotten along. Brett, and the last name Bachman, being the only tie that binds them.
But now, with the hierarchy, Rockland will be the one to look over her.
Bronson speaks. “Brett Bachman was the best of all of us. Strong and hard, but caring and loving. And though he loved us, his family, the family he pledged to lay his life down for, he loved nothing more than Tess.”
Tess releases a deep, keening noise that pierces my heart, making tears spring to my eyes. A few of the women begin to openly sob. Sharing her grief.
Immediately at the sound of her cry, Rockland takes her against his chest, both huge arms wrapping tightly around her slight body. She’s too distraught to fight him now, and she buries her face into his white suit jacket.
Bronson waits a respectful moment. Then he begins again. “We Bachmans hold secrets. Of that you can be sure, but no one held more than Brett. Today, to celebrate my dear comrade I would like to share a few of his with you.”
There’s a few gasps in the crowd. We never spill secrets.
But there is a smile in Bronson’s voice as he speaks. “The first one I’d like to share with you, Brett’s inability to type. That’s right—he never used a keyboard a day in his life. Raise your hand if you’ve ever received one of Brett’s handwritten notes?”
Every hand goes up. Even mine. About a year ago, I’d had a tough day at work. I’d applied to my old college to enter their master’s program, hoping to get my Master of Science in kinesiology. My rejection letter had come to our postal stop. Brett had been the one in charge of screening the mail that day. He delivered it to me and I knew by his face when he handed it over, I’d been rejected. Later, I found a note in my wreath. Keep your chin up, kiddo. Not all smarts can be tested by books. Your type of intelligence runs deep and true and is what it takes to be one of us. You’ll be a great addition to the family. Brett.
Now, the tears openly roll down my cheeks.
Carter’s arm wraps around my shoulders, hugging me into him.
Bronson says, “And how about the lilac field that blooms each summer? The scent of the flowers blocking out the stench of the city as the heat rises? The most beautiful site of our whole Village—other than our women—is the field of those gorgeous purple flowers. But have you ever stopped and wondered where they came from? Brett’s mother had a deep love of lavender. When she passed away, he was heartbroken. He planted those fields by hand, one tiny seed at a time, in her memory.”
I’m trying to hold my face together, but it’s no use and it crumples in a hideous sob. Carter rubs my back.
Bronson’s voice softens as he says, “And today, I’ll share one last secret. Monetarily, Brett cared for Tess in his passing as well as he did in life. But even after his generosity, he had more wealth tucked away than any of us know. Apparently, his biggest secret of all was the gold mine he was hiding away to pay for his greatest feat to date. In his will, he’s declared that every single penny not set aside for his love be given to the poorer neighborhoods of our city. Expanding upon John’s programs, which Brett so admired, he’s funding a GED program as well as the building of three neighborhood community colleges complete with free tuition and housing. And he had enough invested to keep this program going for decades to come.”
Carter’s arms leave me and as if cued by an unseen signal, they all put their hands together. Three sharp claps rise from the group in unison.
That was weird.
Then things get stranger. I blink back tears, looking around me as everyone drops to their knees. White designer clothing be damned, they fall like dominoes to the grassy ground.
I put my hand on Carter’s shoulder to steady myself as I join them. The ground is damp and I feel the mud seeping through the fabric of my dress. I look to Mary and copy her stance. Hands joined with those to my right and left, head bowed.
I close my eyes.
There’s an eerie whirring noise and now they’re chanting, Love lives on. Love lives on. Love lives on.
Chill bumps rise on my arms. Their voices are softly rising. I’m not sure I should join in. I kneel quietly, Carter’s hand in my left, Mary’s in my right. I open my eyes just a peek to see where the strange noise comes from.
Rising from the earth in the center of our circle where Bronson had been standing is a huge stone monument. Gray and brown and as old as the Bachmans, it rises up, up, up. My eyes widen, astonished as it comes to its full height of over ten feet, then stops.
Bronson goes to Tess, helping her up, placing his arm around her. He extracts her from Rockland—whose jacket and shirt are wrinkled and damp—and takes her to one of the stone walls. A red-eyed John stands, walking over, the black chamber now in his hands. He stands by Bronson. Bronson removes a stone from the monument, placing in on the ground.
He looks to Tess and waits.
With shaky hands, she tugs at the chain around her neck. The necklace she wore every day since she’d been inducted to the family is now bunched up in her fist. After her wedding to Brett, there would have been the special Bachman-only ceremony where Brett placed it around her neck. A tiny diamond sword signifying his pledge to lay down his life for her.
I can’t imagine her pain as she places it onto the box John holds. With a wail, she releases it, screaming, “Damn you, Brett! How dare you leave me. How dare you—” Her words turn into a choked sob and Rockland appears by her side.
His arm firmly wraps around her waist. She turns, beating her fists on his chest and he takes it.
He doesn’t even flinch.
When she settles, Bronson gives him a nod.
Rockland takes something from his pocket.
A necklace.
I swallow hard.
The hierarchy.
Rockland is Brett’s younger brother. And now, Tess’s guardian if Bronson chooses to enact the hierarchy.
He reaches up, clasping it around her neck.
Tess’s eyes flash. She gives him one dark look, then yanks the chain from her neck, throwing it to the ground.
His face a mask of indifference, he picks the chain up from the ground. Slips it into his pocket. Grasps her arm, hard. She’s wincing. He whispers something into her ear, then pulls her into the crowd. They disappear.
With heavy grief clearly etched on his face, John places the box behind the missing stone. Bronson replaces the stone and the two of them stand there, hands clasped behind their backs as it lowers back into the ground from whic
h it came.
My mind is filled with so many, many questions.
But I push them aside, instead focusing on those next to me. Two people who truly loved the man who’s passed, a man I didn’t know very well. I give both of their hands a loving squeeze.
My knees are starting to ache. My face tight from crying. Of all the inappropriate times to get hungry—damn! I feel a growl rumbling low in my belly.
The family is having a moment of silence.
A fly buzzes by and it’s so quiet the sound of its wings seems like chaos.
No, no, no!
I feel it growing. Rising.
And there it is... a loud rumble.
All eyes fall on me.
The one that’s not supposed to be here.
The one that’s not yet Bachman.
Bronson made an exception and look what happened.
My face is absolutely on fire.
Bronson says, “I think Sasha’s growling stomach has the right idea. It’s time we go and taste those famous Bachman dishes. In closing, I’ll repeat the words of Brett Bachman—”
“Let’s party!” Everyone rises to their feet, smiling at me, giving me winks, playful nudges. Mary whispers in my ear, “Thank God—my legs were falling asleep.”
And we are off, to celebrate the wonderful life of a great man.
We arrive at the family restaurant. We’ve closed it down to the public for the day. Tess and Rockland are already here. Tess has a glass of chilled wine in her hand. Her eyes are bloodshot. She’s sniffling.
But as people greet her, she smiles. Her eloquent manners have returned. She looks to be much calmer.
Rockland stands behind her chair. His hand heavy on her shoulder. He watches her like a hawk. As more people arrive, he takes her hand. Helps her from the chair. Whispers something in her ear that makes her blush.
Every so often she looks as if she wants to run. From the crowd, from the grief? Of which I’m unsure. But I know that every time that look crosses her face, Rockland’s hand goes to her lower back. Pressing gently and guiding her to the next family member to accept their condolences.
It’s unconventional, but I honestly don’t think she’d get through this day without his firm guidance.
I can’t help but to cut my eyes to John. He’s leaning against the bar. His chin juts out confidently as he talks. A shiver runs down my spine at the thought of what would happen to me if something happened to Carter. I push the thought from my mind and focus on serving the next woman in line.
I’ve volunteered to work the event. I’m running from table to table, replacing empty dishes with new ones. A smile crosses my lips to see that my food is gone. Every bite of it. Paige is here, now; Bronson’s invited her for the meal, and she’s helping me. She’s fast and her smile unarms even the saddest of the group.
By the end of the night, I’m sweating. My curls have loosened. My muscles are sore. I’m exhausted.
But then, Carter is gathering me into his arms. He’s kissing the top of my head, my damp hair. He’s rubbing my back, his hand grazes over my bottom, giving it a light squeeze. He whispers into my ear, “I’m proud of you, baby girl. Oh, so proud of you.”
My heart wells in my chest and a mile-wide smile stretches on my lips.
I see Paige in Bronson’s arms. I catch her eye to share my smile.
That’s when I see it.
My smile drops. My stomach knots.
Paige is wearing a humungous diamond on her left hand.
Chapter Seven
Carter
Bronson’s in love.
When he came to me and told me he’d proposed, I had to hold my face together to hide the shock. I never thought he’d let himself marry.
“You don’t say?” I said, sounding like a news reporter from 1950s.
His face was glowing, his eyes dancing as he spoke of Paige. “She’s like no one I’ve ever met. I’ve never felt this way before.”
“Congratulations. Tell me more about her. She’s been so quiet the few times we’ve had dinner, I haven’t gotten to know her as well as I’d like.”
I’ve never seen the man talk so much.
Paige is the tiny woman I’d first seen hiding behind Bronson’s back that night Sasha and I broke up. The girlfriend we’d helped with the identity theft victims at the old folks’ home. The one who’d curled Sasha’s hair, and helped her serve dishes at Brett’s party. She’s got straight dark shoulder-length hair and big brown eyes. Olive skin that melts into a curvy, voluptuous figure.
She’s as sweet as sugar.
Her parents abandoned her on the curb of a New York City street on her eighteenth birthday. They were off to find their own adventures, finally ridding themselves of their ‘oops’ baby. Instead of breaking down and falling apart, Paige got help from a guidance counselor from her high school. She got her medical assistance license and works in a nursing home a few blocks from Bachman’s. She has a heart of gold.
And a criminal’s mind. She has a taste for expensive things. Unable to afford them, she’d taken to stealing them. Bronson, of course has cured her of that. With his firm hand and fat wallet, he’s turned her into a respectable young woman.
Except for the fact that she’s becoming a Bachman. She has no qualms whatsoever with our motto, steal from the rich to feed the poor. In fact, she’s done it herself, taking medicine to her patients who couldn’t afford it.
She’s perfect for Bronson.
Bronson’s changed since meeting Paige. For the good.
As the head of our family, he always seems to be the perfect man. Good-looking as the devil himself, a phrase I’d learned from Sasha’s mom, loosely translated, of course, and dressed like a stud, he turns every woman’s head as he strides down the city streets.
Beneath that fine head of hair, he’s got a brain. He’s highly intelligent. And street smart. He has a sixth sense adapted for this world, which has saved quite a few of our brothers’ lives. Five years ago, when the position became available, there was no question Bronson was next in line.
He was born for it. And he’s one of the very few of us that is a bloodline Bachman.
Bronson was one of the few children that were raised in the Village. His father took him on missions at the ripe age of seven. I can’t imagine the things he saw, when my friends and I were out playing soccer in the streets. He was witnessing murders, theft, and larceny.
The day he became head, he outlawed children in the village. He dropped a couple billion acquiring land, and established the Hamlet in Connecticut for families. And he stayed single.
Then, Paige.
Bronson was always the fearless leader. Never one to show weakness. But at times, it made him extremely isolated. I can count on one hand the number of times he’s come to me for support since moving up to head. Those times, those moments when he allows me to see he is still human like the rest of us, I call him Braun. A nickname from when we first met. When we were best friends. A time that seems like ages ago.
Before he became head.
But no one is perfect. Even Achilles had his heel.
In Bronson’s strength is his weakness. He’s created a lonely isolated world for himself within our brotherhood.
Paige has ended that for him. They go out every night, drinking, dancing. He takes her to a new place every weeknight, excited to share his favorite haunts with her. On weekends, he cooks for her. Spoils her rotten and spends every second with her.
Sometimes he even invites me and Sasha over. A double date of sorts.
The brotherhood is more than happy to pick up the pace, to fill in the gaps while he has his honeymoon period. He’s had his hands tight on the reins, and we’re enjoying having a little room to breathe and do things our own ways.
After moving up the chain, I’ve been better able to see the intense amount of pressure he’s under. He needs this woman in his life.
He’s put his past behind him, and now, he’s engaged.
I’m so glad h
e’s found her.
Their wedding is to be in six weeks.
Sasha’s furious.
Bronson and Paige will be married before us. According to Sasha, they’ll be stealing away all her attention. After all the progress she’s made, this regression comes from nowhere.
We have a sit-down discussion. I want to be sure I understand her feelings.
I start gentle. But my palm is tapping my thigh. “Sasha, why does this have you so bothered? You know as well as I that it’s a miracle Bronson’s even getting married. Why are you so pissed off about it?”
“You know exactly why. I was to be the next one down the aisle.” Her eyes flash and she sits back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest.
I move my hand to the tabletop. Drum my fingertips on the table, keeping my cool. “It doesn’t matter who goes first.”
“I’ve been in the Village over two years. Two years! And now, she’s coming in and hanging out with Mary and—”
“Is this about your relationship with Mary? Because you know how much she loves you. And how she feels about you. She treats you as if you were her daughter, for goodness’ sake. You have no reason to be jealous.”
She huffs in disbelief. “Jealous? Please.”
“I’m detecting a hint of the green-eyed monster, baby girl. And it’s not a good look for you. I don’t like it.” My gaze locks with her, holding it in warning.
She looks away. She twists her ring on her finger. She sniffs, “I just thought I’d be the next one. That’s all.”
I say, “You chose to have the long engagement.”
“I know.”
I say, “You should be thrilled that after Bronson’s dark past, he’s found love. You should be happy that lost little Paige has found the man of her dreams in Bronson.”
Her brow furrows. Her features turn nasty. “Lost little Paige? Even you like her more than me. She’s soooo... sweet.” Sasha scrunches up her nose.
“Sasha, don’t be ridiculous.” My paddle hand is getting itchy. I take a breath and tap into my patience reserves.
Carter: A Mafia Billionaire Romance Page 11