by Bethany-Kris
“Gian,” Gabriel greeted without so much as looking at him. “You don’t mind me joining your meeting today, do you?”
“You know I do,” Gian replied, “and more so, that you’re in my seat.”
“Well, here I am.”
Yes, there he fucking was.
Quietly, Dom and Stephan entered the barber shop. Better late than never, Gian supposed. Truthfully, he had been closer to the spot when the call came in, so he wasn’t about to throw a fit at his consigliere and underboss.
“What do you want?” Gian demanded.
“Right now, a shave.”
“No, being here.”
The barber’s hands stilled and he shot Gian a look. Gian could tell the man wanted him to relax, and not cause any problems for his business. As it was, the barber shop was well-known for the Mafioso that came and went daily, most notably, Gian at least once a week.
Carmen had always been able to shave Gian far better than any razor ever had.
Gabriel looked over to Gian, though only his eyes moved. It was disconcerting to have this man stare at him, Gian thought. He knew the things Gabriel was capable of and he purposely tried not to poke the man’s beast. That was just good business.
“I want an update on our little situation,” Gabriel said, “and to talk.”
“The situation is being handled.”
“Good, then you’ve found the rat amongst your men. And disposed of it, I assume.”
Gian felt the coldness and distrust that automatically came from saying that word waft from his men. A few murmured between one another, but most stayed quiet. “No, I haven’t found him.”
Gabriel tsked under his breath. “Wasting time, you foolish boy.”
“That’s your one insult, Gabriel. Any after that, and I’ll begin taking a payment for it. A pound of your choice.”
“Touchy,” his father-in-law muttered.
“No more than you.” Gian stayed standing, although he waved to Dom and Stephan to find seats closer to him. Then, he turned back to Gabriel. “We’re still working on that issue. It’s not as simple as it seems, and whoever it is, they’re not obvious.”
“Or you’re distracted.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Your whore, Gian.” Gabriel smirked as Gian went cold all over. “Cara Rossi, that’s her name, isn’t it? Quite pregnant. While I certainly wasn’t faithful to my wife, I would have never taken you for the type, too.”
Gian’s molars ached from clenching so fiercely.
He would not talk about Cara with this man.
He would not give Gabriel that ammo.
Gabriel said nothing more, letting the barber finish his shave and wipe his face down with the hot towels before he stood. Then, he faced Gian, as hard-assed and as big of a bastard as ever.
“You are distracted,” Gabriel said, “and it shows. Otherwise, you would have found your rat by now. I gave you time to do it, but since you’re too busy making a fucking spectacle of that whore of yours all over the city, time has now run out. I’m not going to jail again, Gian. For every week that passes without you delivering the rat to me, I’ll take one of yours. And just so we’re clear …”
Gabriel looked over Gian’s shoulder, and waved a fat finger at the line of men who had come to speak with Gian only. “Just so it’s clear to them, every minute you spend with your whore is a minute you could have been working to spare one of their lives. Make the choices wisely, Gian.”
Apparently, Gabriel intended to start his plan immediately. He had only just left the barber shop along with his men and gotten inside a waiting vehicle, when a black van pulled up. The enforcer outside the barber shop was grabbed and gone before anyone had blinked. Gabriel watched from the backseat of his car with a smile.
Gian was going to kill that bastard someday. Somehow.
At first, Cara didn’t notice the police cruisers and unmarked vehicles parked along the front of her apartment building. She was too busy reading the letter from her university, inviting her to take part in the autumn graduation ceremony for late graduates of her class. While she wasn’t a late graduate, she had passed on attending the main event.
When Cara did finally notice the police attendance, she was halfway up the walk. The early July air was hot and humid, as the majority of the entire summer had already been. She cradled her thirty-seven-week pregnancy swell overtop the flimsy summer dress that helped to keep her cool.
“Cara Rossi?”
She turned to see an officer in full uniform approaching. Her nerves picked up another notch.
“Yes, that’s me,” Cara said.
“I’ll escort you to your apartment.”
“Why? Did something happen?”
The officer smiled thinly. “Normal procedure, that’s all.”
“Normal procedure for what?”
“Follow me, miss.”
“What is going on?” Cara demanded.
The officer answered nothing, simply urged her toward the front doors of the building. Cara wondered if maybe her place had been broken into, though that seemed unlikely. She lived in a good part of the city, and the cost of her rent proved that little fact. Her building—in all the years she lived there—never once had a crime taken place inside or on the outside property.
It was possible that the cops were there because of her accident weeks ago. Her rib was healed and no longer sore, as was the gash on her hairline. Thankfully, that had healed with a scar that wasn’t noticeable, due to skilled stitching by a doctor.
“Is this about the accident?” Cara asked. “I answered all the questions I could at the hospital the next day, and then another round the next week when detectives came with pictures of vehicles for me to look at. I don’t know what more to tell you.”
The officer still didn’t answer.
Now, Cara was just getting peeved.
She didn’t have to wonder for long, as the door to her floor was pushed open. From her spot way down the hall, she could plainly see evidence boxes and bags resting along the wall outside of her apartment door. Inside a few of the clear, plastic bags with red tape sealing the tops, rested items that belonged to Gian.
A shirt of his.
A book.
An empty bullet clip for his favorite Berretta.
Wait, where in the hell had he put that damn thing?
“You’re raiding my place?” Cara shrieked, heading down the hall fast. “What fucking reason do you have to justify a search warrant on my apartment?”
She dropped her bag and the papers from her university, uncaring about the items. Inside her apartment, it looked like a hurricane had ripped through it. An officer identified her and Cara confirmed it, before another paper was shoved into her hands. She barely glanced at it, seeing what it was and only getting more irritated.
A search warrant.
Signed by a judge.
“Nice to see you again, Miss Rossi,” said a familiar detective. The man walked toward Cara with a small stuffed animal in his hands. A tiny elephant that had managed to survive the accident weeks before and Cara had put on the baby’s dresser as a decoration. “Cute little thing, this is.”
Her baby’s nursery?
Cara’s rage spiraled out of control, and she pushed past the detective, heading for Marcus’s room. Sure enough, even it had not gone untouched by the search. Each and every one of the baby’s dresser drawers had been pulled open. Carefully folded, tiny clothes spilled across the room in piles, while cute knickknacks and decoration items had been upended in a messy search.
The closet, a space Cara had kept a few boxes of Lea’s remaining things, was open. The boxes of her twin’s belongings had also been ransacked and searched through.
“We have reason to believe you or your apartment, is a regular stop for Gian Guzzi,” the detective said behind Cara, “and so, here we are to check for any information related to recent investigations into his business.”
Disbelief swept through Cara.
“Oh, we didn’t expect to find much in this apartment at all.”
“Then why?”
She had been the victim just weeks ago. She had been the one nearly killed by a hit and run driver. And now it was her that needed to be treated like a criminal?
Why?
“Gian will understand exactly why,” the detective said smugly.
Cara’s hands balled into tight fists, her fingernails cutting into her palms. “Where is my purse and cell phone? I want to call Gian and my lawyer, now.”
“As soon as we’re done taking a look through the bag, Cara.”
Fuck him.
“Cara, just consider—”
“Gian, it’s fine. I’ve almost got the apartment back to normal. The baby’s room is all organized and ready again. There’s really no need.”
“Well, no need is kind of wrong. There is a need, mon ange. Thirty-seven weeks pregnant with my son is a very good reason to move into the penthouse now, while you have a bit of time left to settle in.”
Cara sighed, and shifted the bag of heavy text books on her shoulder. “Okay, I know I was pissed off about the search on my place, but it’s still not a good reason for me to upend everything right now to move into the penthouse. We’re a little late into this pregnancy to be doing such a big move, Gian.”
“Except I would like for you to, Cara.”
“Listen, we’ll talk more when I get out of the university’s library.”
“Don’t hang up on me because you don’t want to discuss this.”
“I’m not. I’m at the entrance doors right now. I want to get these books out of my place. I will call you back.”
“When you’re out, right? I want to talk about this, even if you don’t.”
“I have to head over to the shelter, too,” Cara reminded him.
Gian grumbled under his breath. “Isn’t your time off supposed to start soon for the shelter?”
“Next week, yes.”
“Don’t work too hard, Cara.”
She smiled. “Why not? You happen to be very good at massages. It gives me an excuse to ask for one.”
“You don’t need an excuse, pretty girl.”
“I’ll remember that.”
“Do so.”
Thankfully, Gian dropped the prickly topic of Cara moving into the penthouse. With a quick “I love you” and another demand for her to call him back when she could, the call ended. Cara headed into the university’s library, ready to get rid of her textbooks she had needed for the year.
The university had a program that allowed students to drop off textbooks to be used for students the subsequent year who were low income, and couldn’t afford to buy the expensive books on their own. A lot of private libraries would pay a small amount for the textbooks, but the university’s program was non-profit. It was all by donation and they didn’t charge the students to get the used books. Cara didn’t care about the money, she cared about being able to help someone.
It didn’t take long for Cara to get her textbooks dropped off and head back out the way she had come. She fully intended to call Gian back as soon as she could, but he would have to wait. As it was, traffic in the city had been terrible all day, and Cara was running short on time to get to the shelter for her shift.
She would usually take the bus, but flagged a passing cab instead. Just as she slid into the back seat and tossed her mostly-empty tote bag to the floor, something caught her eye across the street.
Or rather, someone.
Two people, actually.
Elena Guzzi was just coming out of a specialty boutique, her arms loaded with several bags. A large-brimmed hat keeping half of her face hidden, but Cara would recognize the woman anywhere. At the end of the street, Domenic—Gian’s younger brother—waited for Elena, already holding the passenger side door open for the woman to get inside the car.
That was all Cara saw before her cab pulled away from the side of the road, leaving the scene behind.
Still, an angry ache had settled in Cara’s chest at the sight of Gian’s wife. After their first run in, Cara had been left feeling so ashamed for her involvement with Gian and the pregnancy. But after, once she had learned more of the story, and the things Gian told Cara, she didn’t think that run in with Elena had been accidental at all.
And neither had her pity party lies about losing a baby, or not being able to have more children.
Was Cara imperfect?
Were her actions immoral?
Was she a sinner in this?
Absolutely.
Yes, on every single account.
But something told Cara that Elena Guzzi was not all too innocent, either.
None of them were.
Cara held the hands of the young, high-risk domestic abuse victim across from her while Jenny continued to explain what was going to happen from there on out. Melinda, at only twenty-two, had just been dealt another difficult blow in what was an already horrible time in her life.
Two weeks after the beating her husband had served down on her, and the woman was at least beginning to look better. The black and blue bruising on her face had faded to a yellow that was easy to cover. Her broken nose was no longer swollen, and she was able to open her right eye again. The busted vessels in her left eye were also healing, and no longer drew attention, as they had when nearly the entire white of the eyeball had been a bloody, ghastly red.
Melinda tried to smile when Cara offered her hands a squeeze, but it faltered at the last second. Outside appearances were deceiving, and there had never been a better example of that than a woman who had learned to hide the signs of her spouse’s abuse.
This woman had been hiding hers since she was eighteen.
“So, he got bail,” Melinda whispered.
So soft spoken.
Still afraid.
Never weak, though.
Cara repeated that sentiment to Melinda when the woman was willing to listen. She was not weak. She was brave, courageous, wonderful, and deserved beautiful things. All the beautiful things she wanted would and could be hers.
“He did get bail,” Jenny said, “and since this is his first charge on his record, we expected that. The restraining order is still in place and the police officer on the case was kind enough to alert us that he is free on bail, until the next court date.”
Melinda wet her lips, her gaze darting between the floor and the wall. “He knows where I am.”
“The restraining order is still in place, but should he come to the shelter, we have policies in place that will keep you and everyone else perfectly safe.”
“Except he doesn’t care about those kinds of things. He never has. He said he would kill me; he almost did. He’s—”
“Melinda,” Cara said softly, “take a breath. Take a moment to breathe.”
The young woman did, but Cara could plainly see it didn’t help all that much.
“This is the first time I’ve ever left him,” Melinda mumbled. “This wasn’t even the worst beating, it was just the first time someone helped. I don’t … He won’t … I’m scared.”
Jenny nodded. “I know. We consider your situation to be high-risk, which means at the moment, the shelter is currently on a level red watch.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means that because there is a risk of an altercation between you and your husband while we get things settled with the court, your divorce lawyer, and everything else, everyone here will be more alert for a problem. Until we have a reason to move you—say, he shows up here, or approaches you when you’re out with one of our escorts—then the shelter is where you will remain. So, while you are here, because of the risk level, the staff and volunteers, and even the other women currently housed here, will be on a high alert for safety.”
“So, wait and see if he tries to beat me to death again?” Melinda asked.
Cara winced. “We under
stand the situation and why you’re afraid of him showing up. But given this is his first actual arrest and the past years of abuse haven’t been documented officially, the courts were already unlikely to deny him bail. Trust that we will do absolutely everything to keep you, and everyone else, safe while we go through this process. And if at any single time, he gives us even a small reason to suspect he’s planning something, you will be moved with a police guard. Okay?”
Melinda agreed, but she didn’t look entirely convinced.
Cara understood that, too.
It was hard to trust others to keep you safe, when all you knew was keeping yourself alive.
“Are you good to go back to your room?” Cara asked.
“Or, supper is getting ready to be served in the kitchen, if you’re hungry,” Jenny added.
Melinda shrugged. “Food would be good.”
“Wonderful.” Jenny waited until Melinda had gone from the office and the door was closed once more, before she turned to Cara to speak. “I didn’t want to frighten her more, but the officer who alerted us to the granted bail thought we should know.”
Cara stood, rubbing a hand over her stomach to soothe the jabs of the baby boy hitting her rib. “Know what?”
“The officer figured he would keep an eye on Allen Farger for the day, as he had time, and he said there was something about the guy that bothered him.”
“So?”
“He lost him about an hour after he started tailing him,” Jenny said.
“Like in traffic or something?”
“No, like Allen seemed to know someone was following him and deliberately lost the officer.”
Well, shit.
“Why would he do that?” Cara asked.
Although, she was pretty sure she knew the answer.
“Because he didn’t want to be seen or bothered doing whatever in the hell he was going to do.” Jenny loosened her ponytail, and tipped her head side to side, stretching her neck. “That was why I put the shelter on level red watch, not because of the bail.”