by CJ Bishop
Cruz shifted his body, regaining his breath.
“You all right?” Flynn asked.
“Yeah. Trust me, I’ve taken a hell of a lot worse hits than that.”
Flynn brought a chair over and unfastened Cruz from the pipe overhead. He sank into the seat, his wrists still bound.
“I don’t like Caterina up there alone,” Cruz said. “Tie me to the chair and lock me in this room, whatever you need to do, but don’t leave her alone too long. I don’t trust that fucker.” When Flynn averted his eyes, Cruz asked with growing dread, “What? What’re you not telling me? Did that motherfucker already do something to her? What he said on the phone—was it true?”
Sliding his hand across his mouth, Flynn met his furious stare. “She told me that he came to her room and…” A sick look came over his face. “…did some things to her. It was your call that stopped him. He heard her phone that she’d hidden under the pillows and left her to take the phone to Terrell.” He shook his head. “If you hadn’t called her when you did…he would have raped her.”
Cruz closed his eyes—relieved that he’d made the call at that precise time…and fucking pissed that the fucker had put his hands on Caterina with the intention of hurting her. “The motherfucker is already dead,” Cruz hissed fiercely. “A fucking walking dead man.”
“What do you guys do to someone like him,” Flynn asked with a cold edge to his voice.
Raising his eyes, Cruz said, “We check him into the cowboy’s guest room.”
“What happens in the guest room?”
“Hell happens,” Cruz murmured darkly. “It’s the place where nightmares come to life for men like Riccardo.”
“And my father?”
“Absolutely. If that’s what you want.”
Flynn’s face hardened. “That motherfucker deserves hell.”
Cruz was in full agreement. “Flynn,” he said. “You need to get back to Caterina. Keep that fucker away from her.”
Flynn nodded. He found some rope and secured Cruz to the chair. “That’s not too tight, is it?”
“No. It’s fine.”
“I’ll be back to check on you soon.”
“Don’t worry about me. Just take care of Caterina.”
“I will.” Flynn walked to the door.
“Flynn.”
He paused and looked back. “Yeah?”
Cruz stared at him, fully understanding now why Caterina had fallen for the guy so quickly. “Don’t listen to what these fuckers say about you. You’re a good man. A man I’d be proud to call a friend.” His lips tugged with a smile. “Or brother-in-law…someday…maybe?”
Warm gratitude filled Flynn’s eyes and he blinked, a small smile forming. “Maybe.”
CHAPTER 34
“Calm Before the Storm”
______________________________________________
“We’re not playing this fucker’s game until we all end up dead,” Sanchez said. Clint and Cochise stood with him as he addressed his men. “We’re ending this tonight. We have two men on the inside now. Clint and Cochise will surrender themselves—then we’ll have four in there. They think they’re the ones in control? Well, they’re about to get a rude awakening. Our two families took this mob down once, we can fucking do it again. They’re not as strong this time. If we take out their boss—Terrell Pisano—the others will scatter and can be picked off. Even so, do not let your guard down, not for a second. When we’re back home, then we will relax and celebrate our victory. Until then—stay alert. Get ready to move as soon as Clint and Cochise are picked up.”
The men voiced their readiness and the group broke apart.
“You two ready to head out to the rendezvous point?” Sanchez asked the two men beside him.
“We’re ready,” Clint said. “You watch your back, you hear? Those fuckers are ruthless.”
Sanchez nodded. “They have my man and my baby sister. They better fucking believe I can match their ruthlessness.”
Clint murmured with a small smile, “I don’t doubt it.” He withdrew his weapon and unsheathed his knife and handed them to Sanchez. “Take care of my babies for me? I don’t want those fuckers getting their hands on them.”
“I’ll treat them like they were my own kin,” Sanchez assured.
Cochise disarmed, providing a few more “children” for Sanchez to babysit. He laid his hunting knife in Sanchez’s hand and kept hold of it a moment. “Take special care of this one. I’m sure it will have a guest or two to entertain later tonight.”
“Let’s hope so.” Sanchez took the knife, a bit in awe of the weapon that had served out justice time and again to the unforgivable scum unlucky enough to find themselves checked into the infamous Sanitini “guest room”.
Sanchez walked to the door with the two men. “We won’t be more than fifteen minutes behind you.”
Clint nodded. “Be careful. Make sure your boys watch each other’s back. We’re not having a repeat of the last job. Everyone is coming home tonight.”
•
Caterina stood at the window and looked out into the falling twilight. Flynn had wait until Riccardo left for the pick-up before he left her to go back downstairs to check on Cruz and take him some water. Flynn seemed tense, but insisted that she trust him and not to worry. Terrell and Riccardo’s words haunted her, though; they wanted to kill Cruz and the others as soon as they had them all together. If Flynn had a plan—he had to do something quick, either before they got back, or immediately after they arrived.
He returned to the bedroom fifteen minutes after leaving and brought with him a glass of iced tea and a sandwich. He set the plate and drink on the nightstand. “You need to eat.”
“I can’t,” Caterina whispered. “I’m too scared. My stomach feels sick.”
Flynn motioned her to him and hugged her. “Please trust me,” he murmured. “It’s going to be okay. You’re going home—tonight.”
Caterina lifted her head. “How can you be so sure?”
“Because your boys are on the job,” he said. “And I know you trust them.”
She rubbed her hands up his back and kissed his throat. “I trust you, too.”
“That feels good,” he said quietly, sincerely.
“What?”
“Having someone’s trust. I’m not used to it.”
Caterina sighed and tightened her arms around him. “Well, get used to it.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He smiled and kissed her deeply.
“They have a plan, don’t they?” she asked, coming out of the kiss.
“Yes.”
“What is it?”
He shook his head. “You just be ready to go at a moment’s notice, okay?”
“I’m ready to go now.”
Flynn chuckled. “Believe me, baby, so am I. This place can burn to the fucking ground for all I care. I am done here—and done with my father—for good.”
“I can’t wait for you to meet my godfather,” she said. “You will love him.” An ache pinched her heart. “I wish you could have met my real father, too. He was so wonderful.” Uncertainty seeped through her mind. “You don’t think it’s really true, do you? That my father was…murdered? He wasn’t part of this world. I mean, not really. That just wasn’t who he was. He was gentle and kind and peaceful.”
“And your godfather isn’t?”
Caterina stared at him as it struck her just how much alike Lorenzo Santiago and Salvatore De Luca truly were. “No…he is,” she whispered. “He’s exactly like that.”
Flynn stroked her face. “I don’t know anything about your father,” he murmured. “Like I said before, my father may have just said that to get to you, fill you with doubts and throw your mind off balance. Nothing’s too low for him.”
“Maybe,” she mumbled.
“When you get home,” Flynn said. “Talk to your godfather. If he did keep something from you, I’m sure it was with the best intentions. You were so young when you lost your father, maybe he was just trying to protect you and kee
p you from suffering any more hurt than you were already dealing with. But you’re an adult now and I’m sure he will be honest with you. If he isn’t, and you think he’s still keeping secrets, try to consider his feelings for you and what you mean to him. If there’s something he’s not telling you, maybe he has good reason, even now. I mean, do you think he would deceive you about your father’s death without good cause?”
Caterina didn’t have to consider her answer. “No. I know he wouldn’t.”
•
The headlights splashed across the two men leaning against the hood of their car. Riccardo went on alert when he noticed a couple other guys with them. He’d brought one of his own men with him in his vehicle, and two others in a second car behind them. He didn’t feel comfortable transporting the cowboy and his Egyptian friend in the same car.
He parked a few yards away and got out slowly, weapon drawn, standing behind the driver door. “I said to come alone.”
The cowboy stood up off the hood, his face lost in the shadow of his cowboy hat. “They’re just here to take the car back. I’m not leaving it to be stripped down.”
“Fine,” Riccardo nodded. “But they need to leave now or become collateral damage.”
The Egyptian’s face twitched and the look that crept through his rough features sent a chilled shiver skittering down Riccardo’s spine.
The cowboy spoke to the two men and they climbed in the car.
“You two,” Riccardo pointed the gun at them. “Walk over here.” The car pulled away and drove off as the two men approached. Riccardo halted them a few feet from the front bumper of his car. “Remove your weapons.”
“We’re clean,” the cowboy told him.
“Forgive me if I don’t take your word for it.” He instructed a couple of his guys to search them. When they hesitated, visible fear on their faces, Riccardo grunted. “What the fuck are you waiting for?” He looked at the cowboy. “We’re going to do this nice and easy, aren’t we? You’re not going to give my boys any trouble, are you?”
The cowboy stared at him with cold eyes. “If we meant to give you trouble, motherfucker, you and your boys would already be dead.”
“You sound awful cock-sure of yourself.” The casual tone Riccardo was going for failed miserably as his voice cracked just a little, betraying his own simmering fear.
The cowboy just stared back, the faintest of smiles tugging the edge of his mouth.
Riccardo’s heartrate spiked a few notches. He tried to deny the fact that these men scared the fuck out of him. He hadn’t been prepared to be afraid of them, thought he could stand toe-to-toe with the legendary gangsters and keep from shitting bricks. He was wrong…and they knew it. Men like them could smell fear as easily as a man’s sweat.
“Search them,” he told his men, wincing at the rasp in his voice.
The two men moved in cautiously and, with tentative hands, hurriedly patted them down. “They’re clean.”
“Secure their hands.” Riccardo nodded at Eli who stood in the passenger door and the guy grabbed two zip-tie cuffs from inside the car and took them over to the other men. Once their captives’ hands were bound, he pointed at the cowboy. “You ride with me. Your pal there, he’s in the other car.” He nodded at his men to lead the Egyptian to the second vehicle.
The guys stood rigid with fear as the Egyptian looked down at them, death and hell behind his eyes. “If I wanted to hurt you,” he muttered deep and low, “and that moment will come—these dental floss cuffs won’t stop me.”
Riccardo was sure he saw both men gulp before nervously directing the Egyptian toward the other car without actually touching him.
“You.” Riccardo motioned the cowboy to his car and opened the rear door. The cowboy stepped around him and seized his eyes briefly before sliding into the backseat. Riccardo swallowed, his legs suddenly shaking as he closed the door; there was a dark nightmare world behind the cowboy’s jade eyes. He rubbed his mouth and took a deep breath, then climbed in behind the wheel.
When they were well on their way, the cowboy murmured, “You made a grave mistake when you spoke of those boys as collateral damage. My Egyptian friend doesn’t care for that term. You’re lucky you’re still alive.” His voice lowered. “I strongly suggest you do not use it again.”
Riccardo glanced at Eli. The guy kept a tight grip on his weapon, his chest rising and falling in rapid succession; the man was scared shitless.
And you’re not?
•
After Flynn left him, Cruz began to nod off. It wasn’t his way to sit still for long, and being tied to the chair caused his mind to wander until he slipped into a partial dream of Sanchez. I have something to say to you, too. He’d said that to Sanchez before they parted. In the dream, they were home again, naked in bed, and he was telling Sanchez the things he’d wanted to say. He couldn’t keep the grin off his face at Sanchez’s reaction and hoped it meant they would be fucking all night as a result.
“What you grinning about, amigo?” Sanchez whispered close to his face.
Cruz jerked a little, his heavy eyes lifting a fraction. “I love these kind of dreams,” he mumbled.
“What kind of dreams?”
“The ones that feel real.” His smile stretched. “You gonna do a strip tease for me then give me a wild lap dance? ‘Cause that’s definitely one of my fantasies.”
Sanchez chuckled softly. “You’ve been hanging around the Phoenix boys too long.”
Cruz laughed low. “No…just long enough. They spark my imagination.”
“Mm-hm.” Sanchez moved around behind him. “Then why haven’t you stripped for me?”
“Is that a request?”
“Maybe,” Sanchez kissed the back of his head. “Why don’t we talk about that when we get home?”
Cruz frowned and blinked as his mind started to clear and he realized Sanchez was loosening the ropes and freeing his hands. “Wait…I’m not dreaming?”
Laughing quietly, Sanchez moved back around in front of him and squatted to his heels, hands resting on Cruz’s knees. “And who says fantasy is better than reality?”
Cruz stared at him as the residue of sleep fog dissipated, bringing him back to full reality. “How…?”
“Flynn told us of a back way in, that brought us right through the basement.” His brow pinched and he touched Cruz’s face with tender fingertips. “Who’s the fucker who scuffed your pretty face? I’ll kill the bastard.”
Cruz tugged off the loose ropes and cupped his boyfriend’s head. “He’s already dead.” He kissed him long and deep. “He just doesn’t have the good sense to lay down.”
“Then we’ll just have to help him with that.”
•
Flynn’s cell hummed and he answered the call, listened, and replied, “Yeah. Got it.” He put the phone away and looked at Caterina who was watching him anxiously. “Sit tight, baby. We’ll be out of here in no time.” He hesitated then withdrew his weapon and handed it to her. “You know how to use this, right?”
She looked at him sardonically. “I grew up in a gangster family—of course I know how to use a gun.”
He chuckled and kissed her lips. “You are so the perfect woman for me.” He pressed the weapon into her hands. “Just in case that fucker gets past me. If he sets foot in this room, cap him. Don’t let him distract you with bullshit talk—just shoot the motherfucker. Think you can do that?”
Caterina nodded. “If it’s a choice between shooting him or getting raped…yeah, I can pull the trigger.”
“That’s my girl.” Flynn kissed her again.
“Wait.” She grabbed his arm when he started to leave. “What about you? Don’t you need a gun, too?”
“Don’t worry,” he grinned and produced a second weapon. “I always carry a spare.” He gave her one last kiss and walked to the door. “I’ll be back soon. And then we’ll blow this joint.”
Caterina smiled anxiously. “I can’t wait.”
Flynn nodded at her gun
. “Make sure the safety’s off before you fire. Don’t want to give the fucker even a split-second advantage.”
“I’ll remember,” she murmured. “Cruz taught me to always be mindful of that detail.”
He nodded. “Good man.”
Flynn left the bedroom and tucked his weapon away, then went looking for his father.
“Why the fuck aren’t you watching Santiago?” Terrell demanded when Flynn entered the living room. Four other men stood with his father.
“He’s tied to the chair and locked in the furnace room,” Flynn said. “He isn’t going anywhere.” He glanced at the other men. “When will Riccardo be back with the cowboy and Egyptian?”
“Any time now.”
“So, you’re just going to kill them?” Flynn asked. “Wouldn’t they be more useful to us alive? In case we need to do some more bargaining? If their men find out they’re dead, we’ll lose any leverage we gained.”
Terrell stared at him dully. “So, now you suddenly know the business?”
“I’m just using common sense.”
Terrell scoffed. “Well, there’s a first time for everything. But this isn’t that time. These men are too dangerous to leave alive. If even one of them escaped, he could do a hell of a lot of damage. Why don’t you use your brain for thinking? Common sense says to take them out as soon as possible.”
The man was right. Of course, Flynn knew that a man in his position should do exactly that. But he needed to stall, if only to gain a few minutes.
•
“So, where’s your buckle?” Riccardo asked from the driver seat. After a short while in the car, without having to look the cowboy in the face, he was regaining some of his courage. Eli seemed to have relaxed a bit as well. “All the stories about you involve some badass skull buckle. Someone steal it from you?”
“No.” The cowboy offered no more.
Eli spoked up. “I heard a rumor that he gave it to his boyfriend.”
“Boyfriend.” Riccardo chuffed. “I can’t believe a big strappin’ cowboy such as yourself prefers cock. That’s just fucking disappointing. I thought for sure you’d be a real man.”