He slams a fist on the table, making the silverware jump and my glass nearly topple over. The rage in his face is gone in an instant. Several people turn to look at us, but he doesn’t notice. “It’s not the same. Not at all. I’m keeping you in the dark to keep you safe, not because I’m worried what you’ll think. You know who I am and what—”
“Chitlins and corn nuggets,” says the waitress, oblivious to the tense moment she’s interrupting. “Do you want ranch with those?”
“No—”
“Yes,” I say, interrupting Damian.
He gives me a disgusted look. “Ranch?”
“You haven’t eaten a corn nugget if you haven’t had one with ranch.”
He shrugs and grabs a chitlin, popping it in his mouth. I watch, covering my mouth to keep from bursting out laughing as his face slowly turns from disinterest to disgust. He gags, grabbing a napkin and spitting the chitlin into it. “What the fuck is that?”
I can’t stop from laughing anymore. “I think the anatomically correct term is ‘pig poop shoots’.”
The anger in his eyes only makes me laugh harder.
“Pig intestines, battered and fried.”
“Oh yeah? You think you’re funny pulling one over on me like that?” he asks.
“The look on your face was pretty good,” I say.
He shakes his head, drinking several long gulps of water and then taking the lemon and squeezing it directly into his mouth. “Jesus Christ. People really eat that?”
Before I can answer, my eyes are drawn to the door where Greg enters with his lawyer in tow. Damian follows my eyes. His hand clenches into a fist so tight his knuckles turn white. “This fucker is like a cockroach. Just when you think he’s gone…”
Greg grabs a chair from a couple’s table without asking and pulls it up to ours, sitting down backwards in it. I’m struck by how false his shows of confidence seem. They are exactly that, shows. Unlike Damian, Greg has to posture and prance to try to convince everyone around him that he’s confident and important. Damian has a natural inevitability to the way he moves that requires no explanation or grand gestures. He’s a force to be reckoned with and anyone who gets in his way will come against his power. It’s written in his every feature and movement as firmly as if it was in stone.
Greg snaps his fingers and reaches a hand over his shoulder. His lawyer slips a piece of paper in his hand and Greg slaps it on our table. “Who wants to read it first?” he asks.
I scoop it up and scan it, heart and stomach sinking at the same time. It’s a paternity test. “I never took a paternity test,” I say quickly. Even though my mind goes back to the bruise on my stomach, the one I thought was probably just from struggling against the doctors. They really did test me.
“Says right here you did, sweetie. The same day you went to see if you were really pregnant.”
Damian snatches the paper from his hands. “Why the fuck would they give this to you? This is personal medical information.”
Greg reaches over to point to a spot near the middle of the paper. “I forgot you can’t read. It says here that I’m the father, so I guess that’s why they gave me my fiancée’s personal medical information?”
Damian’s eyes meet mine across the table. Hot tears prick at my eyes as I reach for the papers to see for myself. “You had the doctor drug me, didn’t you.”
“You don’t have to answer that,” says the lawyer from behind Greg.
“All that matters is we know the baby is mine. It’s ours. You can leave this loser behind and give the baby a life it deserves. Not whatever shit show he is going to give you.”
“I don’t care if it’s yours,” I say, voice thick with emotion. I really don’t. I want to do this with Damian, even if it’s Greg’s baby. I just can’t imagine Damian wanting to stick around and raise some other guy’s kid. “I’m never going to raise this baby with you. You’re not even going to come close to it.”
Damian is oddly silent across from me at the table. I can’t read his expression, but the lack of emotion on his face frightens me more than if he were openly showing anger.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” says Greg. “I have a number of ways to make sure I have access to the child. If he so much as tries to come within an inch of my child, I’ll see that a court rules him unfit as a parent. He’ll never be legally allowed in the child’s life or yours. In fact, if you press me on it, I can make sure they tear the baby from your arms in the hospital bed. So maybe you should consider playing nice and remember who you’re dealing with.”
“You couldn’t,” I say, even though deep down I know he could and he would. I’ve seen too many times just how much Greg can make happen with his father’s money and connections. He just dumped a steaming pile of crap on my life and my plans, and I don’t know if Damian is going to stick around to help me clean it up, or if he’s going to do what most sensible people would and walk away.
15
Damian
“He didn’t look this heavy when he was alive,” says Benny. Sweat beads on Benny’s bulldog face as he helps me drag Ramirez’s body toward the dumpster at the dock. It’s dark out and our only company are the seagulls. “But you know what they say, dying adds twenty pounds.”
“They don’t say that,” I grunt, heaving as we toss Ramirez in with the trash.
“Who do you think it was?” asks Benny.
I found Ramirez’s car parked in front of The Spot this morning. His body was propped up in front of the steering wheel. The murder weapon was on the seat beside him. My knife. I checked my glove compartment and saw that it had been stolen. I’m sure my prints would be on that knife, and only my prints. It was a message, but whether it was from Greg, Conway, the Anastasios, or the Sanatores, I have no idea. I just know someone is trying to tell me they can get to me when they want to.
“Maybe you can tell me. I heard you were meeting with Cristiano.”
Benny’s face tightens. “I thought you might hear about that, but it’s not what you’re thinking. Not at all.”
“Maybe you can enlighten me,” I say slowly. I feel coiled, ready to burst into action at the first wrong word out of his mouth. I want to clean up my act for Callie, but if one of my own was setting me up with the Riccis, I can’t let that slide, not even for Callie.
“I met this girl when I was down in Jersey for one of our fence jobs. She’s a good Italian girl, way out of my league, and for some reason, she likes me. Things have been getting pretty serious. Well, it turns out Cristiano Ricci is her distant cousin or some shit. She said I had to get permission from him if I wanted to be with her. That’s all it was. Cristiano didn’t even know I ran with you.”
I nod my head. I want to believe it, so I decide to, unless someone gives me a reason not to. It sure as hell beats the possibility of my best friend backstabbing me. I clap him on the shoulder. “Good. That’s good. You can tell me this shit though, you know. I don’t want to be hearing about it from the guys before I hear about it from you next time, okay?”
“Yeah. It won’t happen again.”
There’s an uncomfortable pause. Benny looks toward the car Ramirez bought. “What are you going to do with it?”
“Drive it into the bay,” I say.
“Fuck. That’s a nice car. You sure?”
“When am I ever not sure?”
Benny raises his palms. “All right, all right. We’ll trash the car. Just seems like a shame. Anyway, how are things with that girl of yours?”
I dust off my hands. “Shitty,” I say. “She’s pregnant and it’s not mine.”
Benny whistles. “Big deal. Have her get a fucking abortion and put one of your own soldiers in there.”
“I don’t believe in that,” I say. “You know that.”
“Yeah yeah. Damian Citrione who I’ve seen go at guys with a hammer for owing him a few bucks has a conscience when it comes to killing babies.”
“You have a problem with that?”
“No p
roblem here,” says Benny. “What are you going to do though? You going to raise some guy’s kid?”
I turn on Ramirez’s car, put it in neutral. The car slowly rolls toward the bay as I watch, crossing my arms. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I could love another guy’s kid. I feel like I’d see him every time I looked at it, like she’d always be thinking about him. You know?”
The car reaches the end of the port and tips over, splashing down a few seconds later.
“Yeah. I’d want to punch the kid in the face.”
“That’s why you’re an asshole,” I say.
“No argument there.”
“So how’s it going with the crew? Last time we talked you said you had about ten guys lined up?”
“Yeah. It’s tough. The only guys I can find who have ever even shot a gun at a person are already working for other familias. Then the ones who aren’t are hesitant about joining on when you won’t let me tell them what they’ll be doing.”
“And how many do you think are going to work for me if they know we’re planning to make a move on one of the most powerful crime families in the Northeast?”
“I’m just saying it’s slow going. If you have any ideas I’m all ears.”
“Nothing here. Callie’s ex has some tightass prick from the Feds watching my every move. Name’s Conway. When we started this shit I wanted to get the Sanatores and the Anastasios to duke it out long enough for me to make a move on the Sanatores. Now I wish I could do the same shit with her ex-fiancé, Conway, and all these other fuckers who are after my blood.”
“Why can’t you?” asks Benny.
I squint at him in surprise, “You might actually have a point, Benny.” I still don’t know if I can trust him, but these days, I don’t know if I can trust anyone except Callie. And things have been tense with her, to say the least. I know what she wants me to say. She wants to hear that I’m going to stay and help raise the baby like it’s my own, but I don’t know. It feels wrong. She hasn’t asked me to take a stance on it one way or another, but I can see it in her eyes, just like I can tell that she’s not going to wait around forever to hear my answer.
“So how are you going to play it?” asks Benny.
I run my tongue over my teeth. “I need to do some digging first. But nobody with that kind of money is squeaky clean. Maybe if I can find some way to get Conway sniffing after Greg instead of me, it would be a start. After that, I could try to think of some way to…” the idea comes to me but I don’t want to risk telling Benny. “I don’t know,” I say. “I’ll figure the rest out later.”
“How long are we going to keep pretending this isn’t an issue?” asks Callie.
I was hoping to get a few things and go out to start looking into Greg, but Callie was waiting up on the couch when I came home. She has been feverishly working on the advertising for the restaurant ever since we found out about the baby. I’m not sure if it’s just an outlet for her frustration or something else, but I know if she keeps it up, I’m going to have to start taking the business more seriously. It has always just been a convenient way to explain some of the influxes of cash I get. It’s also nice to have a place to set up meets that I have control over. With all the money coming in after Callie started running my ads though, it’s looking more and more like a prospering restaurant that is bringing in enough money to catch my notice.
I grab my jacket and use it to cover my hand as I pull the pistol from between the couch cushions. I don’t expect to need it, but these days I don’t leave home without at least a few pieces. “What do you want me to say?” I ask, surprising myself with the irritation that is obvious in my voice.
Her head pulls back slightly as if my tone stung her, but she recovers quickly. “I want to know, Damian. I feel so alone right now, like you’re shutting me out. I just want to know what to expect. Do you want me to take this stranger’s baby and get the hell out of your life? Do you want me to stay? I need to know, I’m going crazy over here.”
“You’re not leaving,” I say.
“That is only half an answer.”
“It’s all the answer I’m ready to give. Right now, I just want to keep you safe. I’m doing everything I can to make sure nobody hurts you and that nobody will ever think of hurting you again. I can’t be thinking about babies and everything else. I just need to handle this.”
“So just stay put because you say so?”
“Yes,” I snap, spinning to face her. “You do what I fucking say so I can keep you safe.”
“Why should I care about being safe if I’m just a doormat to you?”
I drop my things and advance on her. “Watch how you talk to me.”
“Oh? Did I forget to call you sir? Or do you prefer master? Was I supposed to suck your—”
I push her down on the couch and climb on top of her. My knee is between her legs and the rage boiling inside me starts to feel indistinguishable from lust. I want to teach her a lesson, but more than anything, I just want to have her. I want to fuck her like everything is normal between us, like there’s not another man’s baby in her belly, like she’s mine and always will be.
Before I know what I’m doing, my mouth is on hers. She kisses me back for a few seconds, her tongue warm against mine. Then her small hands are pushing me off of her. I pull back just in time to see her hand blurring toward my face. My cheek stings. She slapped me, and she looks like she’s thinking about doing it again. Anger burns in my chest, making me want to show her that she belongs to me and that I still have power over her body.
“You think you can just fuck me and make me forget?” she asks. The tone in her voice betrays how aroused she is, and I can see the hardened tips of her nipples clearly.
“You only need to say one word to stop me, but you won’t say it. You want my cock between your legs.”
“Fuck you,” she says. “You can’t solve everything with sex.”
“We’ll see,” I growl.
She tries to slap me again but I grab her wrist. Her lips turn into a thin line as she struggles against me. She tries to punch me with her other hand, but I catch it, too. Lowering myself to kiss her neck. “Just one word, and it all stops. You know the word.”
“Get off me,” she whispers, but the conviction in her tone is gone.
“Those aren’t the magic words.” I use my shoulder to pin her arm down and move my hand between her legs, spreading her thighs easily and shoving my hand down the yoga pants she wears. My finger slides over her engorged clit. “You’re so fucking wet. I don’t think your pussy wants me to get off of you. I think it wants me to get you off.”
I find her mouth, kissing her hard as my finger circles her clit and slides inside her entrance. She bites my lip hard enough that I taste blood, but then soothes it with soft passes of her tongue. Fuck. She’s incredible. Even as she presses her hips into my hand and the soft vibrations of her moans pass through her lips into mine, I can’t help thinking about the baby. Why does it really matter? Whether it’s my baby or his, it’s also Callie’s. Isn’t that enough?
The question reignites my anger. I don’t know the answer, and I’m not used to not knowing. The uncertainty makes me want to act. I pull her pants and panties down roughly and free my cock, positioning myself over her. She reaches down and grabs me, stroking my length hungrily. I watch as her full tits bounce with the motion and arch my back, groaning in satisfaction. She’s incredible.
“You want it so fucking bad, don’t you?” I ask.
She bites her lip, nodding her head. I slide into her even as she still strokes me. She doesn’t take her hand away, and the combination of her heat and the tight grip of her hand is amazing. I lean over her as she reaches down, still rubbing the base of my cock with her hand and grazing my balls. Her need to be touching me is such a turn on that I already feel the tingling threat of an orgasm building. I pull out briefly and she uses her hand to stroke me and rub the head of my cock against her slick clit.
“Jesus Christ,” I
groan.
“You like that?” she asks.
“Fuck yeah, baby.”
She increases her pace, rocking her hips against me and letting my cock dip into her briefly before pulling it back out to rub against her clit. Her other hand finds my balls and cups them, stroking the sensitive skin behind them and making my eyes clench with pleasure.
“I’m going to cum if you keep that up,” I say.
She bucks her hips into me, overwhelming me with sensation. I feel the building tension threatening to release just as she takes her hand away and plunges my cock in her pussy to the hilt. My eyebrows pull together and I push myself as deeply into her as I can.
“Fuck!” I shout. My balls tighten and my cock pulses, spraying hot cum inside her. She clenches against me, her pussy milking my cock for every last drop of cum.
When the last of our orgasms have faded, I roll off her and sit beside her on the couch. I pull my pants up, not caring if my cock is still wet from her. She pulls her panties and pants back up over her pussy that is still dripping with my cum. It’s so fucking hot that I could almost go at her again. She excuses herself to go to the bathroom and I lean back on the couch, more confused than before.
She sits on the couch beside me and pulls her knees up, hugging them to her chest. “So,” she says. “At least we know the sex is good.”
I laugh. “Damn right.”
“But…”
She’s not going to let it go. I know she won’t, and hell, I don’t blame her. I scratch the back of my head and lean my head back in frustration. “I don’t know. Maybe he’s right. Maybe the baby will be better off without me in its life. Greg was right about one thing. I’m dangerous, and you and the baby would be safer if you weren’t connected to me.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t care about that. I mean, I care, but we’ll work through it.”
“It’s not that simple, Callie. I have enemies. Powerful enemies. I can do my best to protect you, but with them out there I would never know if you were safe. I would always be wondering if they were going to find you on your way to work or while you were at the grocery store. I can’t be everywhere.”
Mine (Citrione Crime Family #2) Page 11