by Jolie Day
“He bettered his life,” she argued. “He’s doing legit business.”
“Yeah,” Carmine huffed. “Legit business. Sweetheart, do you really think he got all that fancy shit without doing a little laundry? Please! You’re dreaming.” He straightened his tie and slicked back his hair. “No matter how many charities he supports, he ain’t never gonna wash his hands of all the blood that was spilled getting him to where he is, right now. Even if he ain’t necessarily the one that spilled it.”
Carmine shrugged.
“It’s just the facts of life.”
Chapter Fourteen
Brooke didn’t know how long she sat there; it could have been hours or it could have been days. She became tired enough to drift off at some point, but wouldn’t dare allow herself to close her eyes without a fight. She was terrified of what Carmine Bianchi or one of his goons might to do her once her defenses were completely dropped.
Not that there was much she could do if one of them decided to pull something while she was awake. Her hands were tied behind her back and one of the goons had zip-tied her legs to the chair, making it impossible for her to so much as shift her position. She struggled against them whenever she was certain that nobody was looking at her, but it was no use.
She was trapped.
All that Brooke could hope for was that Anthony would do what Mr. Bianchi asked and get her out of here before Carmine actually decided to point a loaded gun at her forehead and pull the trigger. She could feel her heart pounding inside her chest, making her ribcage ache with the rhythm. It had been like this for as long as she’d been held captive and she didn’t imagine it letting up anytime soon.
Her head had just started to droop for good when she suddenly heard a loud bang. Jumping in her seat, Brooke’s heart rocketed up into her throat as she was certain that what she heard was a gunshot and she was about to say a permanent farewell to the world she’d barely come to know in the last twenty-four years. Her eyes were shut tight as she waited for the pain that would come.
But none came.
Instead, when Brooke opened her eyes, she saw all of Bianchi’s goons pointing their guns toward the door, their spines tense as they glanced at each other in confusion. The doorknob rattled for a long moment, turning and twisting until, suddenly, the door slammed open and Brooke’s heart nearly burst from the confines of her ribcage as Anthony stepped in, a victorious grin on his face and his hands held above his head.
“I’m unarmed,” he informed Carmine, who stepped toward him with his eyes full of anger and confusion.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Carmine hissed at him. “How did you even find us?”
“I followed the scent of that skunk piss you call cologne,” Anthony replied, smartly. His voice had taken on a strange accent that Brooke could just barely recognize as Bronx Italian. He glanced at her and caught Brooke’s eyes, comforting her in just that split-second, before returning his gaze to Carmine. “Let her go.”
“Not until you do what I ask,” Carmine retorted, turning and walking back to Brooke, standing at her side. He placed his hand on her shoulder and she attempted to move away from him, but his grip tightened, holding her painfully in place. “How much money has been laundered?”
“None,” Anthony replied, with a casual shrug. “And, like I told you before, I won’t be laundering any money at my casino. Not now. Not ever. Capisce?”
Brooke heard the click of a gun and closed her eyes as she felt the barrel against her temple. “Like hell you won’t,” Carmine hissed. “You owe me, Antonio, and if you refuse to pay up, I’m gonna put two rounds straight through your little sweetie’s skull.”
“No, you’re not,” Anthony said, confidently. “‘Cause if you do, then I’m just gonna have to release all the dirt I collected on you for the better part of ten years.” He laughed, humorlessly. “In fact, if anything happens to me, her, or anybody that we love, you and your entire organization are gonna find yourselves behind bars faster than you can exchange one of your bogus twenty-dollar bills for change.”
“Oh yeah?” Carmine chortled, but she could feel the barrel leave her skull and Brooke sighed in relief. “And what information is that?”
Anthony reached under his jacket and suddenly a dozen guns were pointed straight at him again. He sighed, unimpressed. “Unarmed, remember?” he said, but he froze, cautious. The goons looked to their boss and Carmine motioned for them to lower their weapons. They did.
Anthony held a manila folder in his hand as he pulled his arm out of his jacket, holding it up for Carmine to see. It was thick with papers and held closed with several paperclips and rubber bands. Anthony lowered it to the floor and stood, sliding the folder across the room with his foot. It hit Carmine’s toe and the older man furrowed his brow, staring at Anthony with distrusting eyes.
“Open it,” Anthony said. “You might be interested in what you’ll find on the inside.”
Carmine bent over, removing his hand from Brooke’s shoulder, and reached for the folder, opening it up to the first page. Immediately, his eyes widened in anger and he waved the folder at Anthony.
“How the fuck did you get all this?” he hissed. “You weren’t even there!”
“You think everybody in your organization is loyal to you,” Anthony said, a coy smile on his lips, “but you’re dead wrong. Their loyalty can be bought just as easily as any of those rings on your fingers.”
Carmine dropped the folder and shot it twice, making Brooke jump both times. On the other side of the room, Anthony just laughed.
“You think that’s the only copy?” He shook his head. “Not by a long shot.” The grin disappeared from his face, replaced by the blank, stony look that Brooke recognized all too well. “Now release her or there’ll be hell to pay.”
Brooke watched Carmine’s profile as his jaw clenched and he gritted his teeth. Then he pointed his gun at one of his goons, who immediately dropped his weapon and put his hands up in surrender. Instead of shooting the dunce, however, he just motioned toward Brooke and the goon rushed toward her, pulling out a knife and quickly undoing her ties.
Brooke’s entire body seemed to sag the second she was free from her confines and she jumped to her feet, stumbling slightly after not standing for so long, and ran straight into Anthony’s arms. He tucked her against his chest and rubbed her back, soothingly, as he continued to address Carmine Bianchi and his goons.
“If anything happens to her,” he said, “then that file goes public.”
“You threatening me, Antonio? Don’t you remember who raised you? Who fed you and took you under his wing? I’m the one that groomed you! You were going to be the next head of this family, before my own sons!” He shook his head. “Now you’re just garbage.”
Brooke felt Anthony shake his head, his arms squeezing her more tightly. “I’m better now than I’ve ever been before. I was only garbage when I was working for you. Only garbage when I was threatening those who needed the most help and understanding. Only garbage when you saw me as your son. I’m glad that I got out when I did. Otherwise, I might have turned out like CJ.”
“You leave my son out of this, you bastard. He’s a good boy.”
“He’s a disgrace,” Anthony huffed. “And so are you, Carmine.”
Brooke heard the click of a weapon and she held Anthony more tightly. He continued to rub her back, soothing her.
“You’ll want to rethink that,” Anthony said, in a calm, collected voice. “Remember; that’s not the only copy of that file. The second the FBI gets a hold of it, you’re going down.”
Carmine laughed, cruelly. “I’ll get through it,” he said. “Ain’t nobody putting Carmine Bianchi behind bars. Nobody.” But the weapon clicked again and Brooke turned just as he harnessed it. “This isn’t over, Antonio,” he promised. “Not by a long shot.”
Anthony rolled his eyes and smirked as he backed out of the room, his arm still around Brooke, keeping her safely against his chest as they escaped.
He kept his eyes on their backs as they walked through the halls, toward the exit, which was left gaping open. Brooke didn’t allow a single inch to get between them. She had been so scared that it was hard now even to breathe—but Anthony made it easier, somehow.
“So,” she asked, once they were almost to freedom, “how did you get inside without any weapons?”
“I have my ways,” Anthony replied, leading her outside, where she could see the sun was just starting to come up. Right by the doors were two of Bianchi’s goons, passed out on the floor with blooming bruises on the sides of their heads. Their guns were scattered far away from them and their hands were tied behind their backs. Brooke’s eyes widened as she paused to survey the scene. She glanced up at Anthony, who winked back at her and tugged on her hand to pull her toward the alley where his bike was waiting for them.
Helping her onto the bike, Anthony pressed a long, passionate kiss to Brooke’s lips, which she returned with gusto, happy to have him back in her arms, then placed a helmet on her head and got on in front of her, revving the engine.
He wasted no time in pulling out of the alleyway and out onto the street, racing towards the sunrise.
*****
“Brooke!” Her father wheeled toward her the second Brooke stepped through the door and she threw herself into his arms, pressing her face into the crook of his neck, like she used to when she was a little girl, falling asleep in his arms after a long day on Coney Island. She held him more tightly than she had in years, sobbing against his chest and she felt his hands running over her back, simultaneously soothing her and himself, as if proving to himself that she was still alive, still in his arms. Brooke sagged with relief and allowed her father to just hold her for several moments before she pulled back to look him in the face.
He swiped at her tears with his thumbs, his own rolling down his cheeks. “I thought I’d never see you again,” he said. “When Anthony told me that Carmine Bianchi took you…” He shook his head, his words catching in his throat.
“I’m fine, Pop,” Brooke assured him. “Anthony saved me.” She smiled over her shoulder at her love. He smiled back, standing at a respectable distance.
“Thank you,” Bruce said, still holding onto his little girl. “Thank you so much, Anthony. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d lost Brooke. I’d be lost without her.” He kissed his daughter’s temple and took a deep breath. “But I think it’s better if you two stopped seeing each other.”
“What?” Brooke exclaimed, moving off of his lap. “But, Pop—”
“No buts, Brookie,” Bruce said, holding his head as if he had a headache. “I almost lost you today and I can’t ignore the fact that that wouldn’t have happened if you had never gotten involved with this…thug.”
“He saved my life!” Brooke argued.
“Only because he was the reason you’d been abducted in the first place,” Bruce pointed out. “Who’s to say Bianchi won’t come after you again? What if the next time he actually kills you? Or worse?” There was a shadow under her father’s eyes. Brooke knew he must not have slept in the last several hours since she was taken, but that was no reason to try to control her life.
“He won’t, sir,” Anthony said, before Brooke could protest any further. “I’ve made certain of it.”
“How could you possibly have done that?” Bruce asked, stubbornly.
“Do you remember that file that was left on your hospital bed after you were shot?” Anthony asked and Bruce’s eyes widened, his head bobbing absently in affirmation. “I left that for you after I left the Bianchis.”
“You did?” Bruce gasped. “But I thought…” He shook his head. “Why?”
“Because I needed a little bit of insurance to make sure that they wouldn’t be coming after me,” he admitted. “Or you. Do you know where the file is now?”
“In my study,” Bruce informed him. “But why?”
“Because I’d like to show you something that you might not have noticed before,” Anthony informed him. “Would you care to show me the way?”
Bruce nodded and motioned for Anthony to follow as he wheeled himself down the hall and into his study, where the contents of the file were still laid out over his desk.
“I’ve been studying that file for years,” Bruce admitted, “but I never found anything to put Carmine away.” He shook his head, looking down at all the papers that were crumpled and yellowed with age and use. Several of them had been ripped in some places, but they weren’t in bad shape, at all. Anthony looked impressed by the care Bruce had taken in handling them. They didn’t even look over a decade old.
“You haven’t been looking in the right place,” he said to the older man. “May I?”
“Go ahead,” Bruce agreed, motioning toward the desk. “But I don’t know what else there could possibly be.”
Anthony grinned as he reached for the folder and tore off the corner, revealing a thin pocket that Bruce had never thought to look for, in all his years of studying the file. He watched as Anthony ran his thumb along the pocket, ripping the folder a bit more under he pulled out several more sheets of paper that were pristine white and looked as if they had never been touched. Bruce’s eyes widened at the sight of them, recognizing the sheets clearly as bank statements, with numbers that stretched across several page’s worth of what looked to be off-shore bank accounts.
Anthony handed the sheets to Bruce, who looked them over, his jaw dropping with each word that processed in his mind. There were several names of people that he knew. Cops and lawyers and an ADA that had been found in the Hudson just a few years ago from an apparent suicide. Carmine and CJ Bianchi’s names were written clearly on several of the accounts, as were the young man’s deceased brothers.
“Is this what I think it is?” Bruce asked.
Anthony nodded. “Every single pay-off that Carmine Bianchi has ever made to keep himself out of prison. Several judges are still on his payroll and their names are listed right there. The ADA made the mistake of getting greedy and Carmine had his goons off him. One of your partners, I’m sorry to say, was on the payroll as well.”
Just as he said it, Bruce found O’Neil’s name scrawled across the bottom of the sheet.
“Where did you get this?” Bruce asked.
“I’d been making a note of every run that Carmine Bianchi asked me to do for seven years, after the first time I heard him order the death of a man with two little kids. I watched his widow sob on TV, holding two little girls and I realized how deep I had fallen. I was only a kid then, so I couldn’t exactly do much about it without the risk of death myself, so I took down the name of every cop that I collected money from. Every lawyer that was in his pocket. Every high-ranking official that greased his palm. I figured if you ever found that on your own, I would come forward with the proof that you needed to put all these people away. For good.”
Bruce continued to stare down at the statements in his hands and shook his head. “I don’t know what to say…”
“I think ‘thank you’ would be a good start,” Brooke piped up, smartly, smiling between her dad and the man that she was certain was the love of her life. “Also, you could rescind the whole ‘I don’t want you dating my daughter’ thing.”
Bruce sighed and nodded. “Okay,” he said. “Alright. You two have my blessing,” he relented. “But if anything ever happens to my daughter…” he warned.
Anthony held up his hands. “Understood,” he said. “But, honestly, sir, I won’t ever let anything happen to Brooke. Just like I tried not to let anything happen to you back then.” He looked down at the ground. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t do more to save you.”
Bruce’s eyes widened, as did Brooke’s; the two Abernathy’s gaped at him.
“You…saved my life?” he asked.
“Yes sir,” Anthony confirmed, “but, sadly, not your spine.”
“That’s…thank you,” Bruce said, genuinely. “I don’t know how I could ever repay you for wh
at you’ve done.”
“I didn’t do anything but push you out of the way,” Anthony said, “and you still got hurt.”
“But I didn’t die,” Bruce pointed out. “I didn’t leave a widow and a child, fatherless. And, for that, I owe you so much. So thank you, Anthony.” He shook his head and looked from Anthony to Brooke. “I hope you and my Brookie are very happy together.”
Brooke smiled up at Anthony, with tears in her eyes and a lump in her throat. She squeezed his hand and he grinned back down at her.
“We are.”
Chapter Fifteen
Brooke stretched her arms above her head as the sun warmed her bare body, a smile spreading across her lips when she peeked one eye open to see her lover still asleep at her hip. She leaned down, pushing her own hair behind her ears as she pressed a kiss to his scruffy jaw, before slipping out of the bed and easily locating his discarded shirt. She plucked it up and shrugged her arms inside as she tiptoed out into the kitchen, where she easily located the coffee, bread, bacon, and eggs.
After setting the coffee machine up, Brooke began to dance around the kitchen as she made breakfast, humming to a tune that only existed in her mind. She smiled to herself as she thought about the previous night.
Anthony had promised that they would speak, in detail, about all the events that led up to her kidnapping and what was next for them moving forward.
They hadn’t gotten to do any of that, to say the least.
The second that Brooke had entered the apartment, she’d been suddenly overtaken by a wave of exhaustion like she’d never felt before and had practically passed out in Anthony’s arms. Anthony had, naturally, caught her and hefted her up into his arms, carrying her straight to the bedroom to lay her down. He had undressed Brooke while she lay there, feeling as though she was floating on a cloud of silk pillows and blankets. It was still daylight outside, but a press of a button next to Anthony’s bed sent the room into darkness as heavy curtains covered the windows and Brooke sighed, pressing her face into the pillows as Anthony undressed himself.