by Ashley Jade
"How can you ignore that?" Jackson continues. "Even I'm looking at her."
It's at that moment the brunette bartender turns around and I feel myself instantly sober up.
Fuck me. Forget the hair...what the hell is Alyssa Tanner doing working at a bar?
I can't focus on that, though because Jackson's still rambling on and on in his drunken stupor.
Shit.
He points in her direction and ignores my tap on his shoulder.
"I mean, she sure as fuck is putting it all out there," he declares to the entire bar while I debate the pros and cons of knocking his lights out so he stops talking. "She's obviously looking for attention and a good time."
That's when he turns to me. I shake my head at him and give him a warning glance.
Shut up, brother. For the love of God...just shut up.
Sir-drinks-a-lot proceeds to ignore both my head shake and my warning glance and says, "Looks like you found your quick fuck after all. I bet you won't even have to take her home to get it."
Before Tyrone and I can stop him, he swipes his hand in the air. "Hey, hot stuff," he calls out. "Thanks for the free show. But can I get another glass of whiskey?"
No, the fuck you can't.
Tyrone and I look at Alyssa and shake our heads, letting her know he's officially cut off.
When Jackson turns his head and finally faces her, his eyes open wide.
He turns to Tyrone. "Are you seeing what I'm seeing?"
Tyrone puts a hand on his shoulder. "Yeah, brother. And I think it's time to get you home." He casts a sympathetic glance at Alyssa. "Look, he's really drunk right now. He doesn't know what he's saying."
I nod. "It's true, Alyssa. He's not exactly himself at the moment."
Despite Tyrone and I coming to his defense, she's understandably still pissed.
When she crosses her arms over her chest and glares at him, Jackson lets out a groan.
Tyrone and I exchange a glance and nod. It's definitely time to call it a night.
Jackson puts one arm around me and the other around Tyrone and we all stand up. But bigmouth's not done yet. "You guys better get me home before her FBI—sugar daddy... and I do mean daddy because he's old enough to be her daddy...arrests me," Jackson yells.
"Fuck," I mutter, knowing exactly what FBI agent he's referring to.
"Bro...shut up," Tyrone yells.
I notice Alyssa reach for the glass of whiskey beside her and I know exactly what's going to happen. I could warn Jackson...but in all honesty? He deserves it.
Before he knows what hit him, the glass of whiskey is thrown in his face and Alyssa storms off.
We lug a nearly passed out Jackson through the front door of his apartment.
"Dammit, Jackson," Tyrone mutters. "No more of Momma's food for you. It was hell on earth dragging your drunk ass up all them steps."
Jackson hangs his head and begins snoring.
"Looks like he's sleeping in your bed tonight," I inform Tyrone. "Set an alarm and make sure to check on him every half hour."
"Awe, hell," Tyrone says. He leans over Jackson's ear. "Ya hear that, drunkie? I'm the one who gets punished because you can't hold your liquor worth a damn."
I roll my eyes. "If you don't want to do it we can bring him over to my apartment and I'll take care of him."
"It's not that." He looks sheepish. "It's just—Jackson likes to cuddle in his sleep."
At that, Jackson snorts and mumbles something neither of us can decipher before slurring, "I'm big spoon."
Tyrone makes a face and I burst out laughing for the second time that night as we haul him face down on Tyrone's bed.
I grab a pot in case he needs to puke and put a cool washcloth on his head. Tyrone walks in a moment later with a bottle of water and we sit him up so he can take a few sips.
His eyes are droopy and he begins swaying. "I love you, guys."
Tyrone cups his hand over his mouth and yells, "Go home, you're drunk."
When we put Jackson back into bed he whispers, "I think I love her, too." He pounds the pillow with his fist. "But she fucking hurt me."
Tyrone sighs. "Figures, now he wants to talk about his feelings."
Jackson begins to drift off but not before he says, "I don't know how you do it, Ricardo." I open my mouth to ask what he means but then he says, "I'd never be able to handle living right across the hall from Alyssa. Not knowing where she's going...who she's fucking. It would kill me."
I don't answer him because I can't. He has no idea just how much those things kill me...especially because I know where she goes and who she's fucking.
I walk out to the kitchen and take out a bottle of Jack Daniels along with a glass.
I fill it to the brim and slam it down. Tyrone joins me a moment later and takes a seat at the table.
I fill up another glass and slam that one down just as quick as the first.
He eyes the bottle. "It's gonna be a family affair in my bed tonight if you keep that up."
I fill up my glass again and look at him. "I can take care of myself."
Always have...always will.
He tilts his head. "Yeah, I'm aware, brother."
He mumbles something under his breath that I don't catch. "What was that?"
He glares at me. "Nothing. Just wondering when you're gonna stop keeping me and Jackson at an arm's length is all."
I open my mouth but he holds up a hand. "You can try and deny it all you want, but deep down inside you know it's the truth." He snatches the whiskey from me and pours his own glass. "You never talk about your family. Your upbringing. How the hell you ended up getting involved with the club or working for DeLuca. Hell, you wouldn't even talk about your relationship with Lou-Lou."
I grip my glass and reach for the bottle. "That's because it wasn't serious."
"Bullshit," he says. "Have you seen that girl in the last 3 months? She's walking around like a damn ghost of her former self. I swear she gets skinnier by the day and every time I look at her my own heart hurts." He takes a sip of his drink. "Now, I'm no expert on the female species...but I do know what it looks like when someone's grieving." He tilts his glass in the direction of the front door. "And trust me, brother. That girl is grieving something fierce. You don't grieve something that wasn't serious. You only grieve something or someone you truly loved."
He pinches the bridge of his nose. "And don't even get me started on you."
I down the rest of my glass and raise a brow. "Me?"
"Yeah you," he says while snatching the bottle from me. "You know, I've never brought this up before because I was hoping you'd come to me about it." He laughs. "Although, I should have known better because you don't talk to anyone about anything...but it's awfully strange how that prick, Luke never showed up at the club after that day you beat him to a bloody pulp in the dressing room." He looks me right in the eyes. "For violating Lou-Lou."
Fuck. I forgot Tyrone was there that day.
I swallow hard and reach for the whiskey again. "I had him fired," I quickly say.
He balks and stabs his finger into the counter. "Rumor has it he was DeLuca's right-hand man." He takes another sip of his drink. "I'm not sure how it works in the mob...but I can't imagine anyone having more pull than him." He stares at me curiously and I hope to God that he hasn't figured it out. "Which can only mean one thing."
I set my jaw and meet his stare. "What's that?"
"Either you killed him—or you're not who you say you are."
Or option number 3...both.
Given the two choices...I go with the easiest one to admit. "Fine, Tyrone. You want the truth? I killed him with my bare hands and buried his body where no one will ever find it."
I hand him my cell phone. "You want to turn me in? Go right ahead."
He holds up his hands. "Whoa, Ricardo. Ain't nobody turning anybody in." He makes a face. "We're family, asshole. Remember?"
He snatches the whiskey back from me. "I just wanted you to admit it so
you could get it off your chest. You know, trust someone enough to tell them the truth instead of carrying that shit around."
He fills up his glass. "For what it's worth, I'm not judging. Shit, man. That girl already survived hell growing up and he was attempting to drag her back there." He clicks his glass against mine and smiles. "Good riddance, motherfucker."
I return his smile, feeling more relieved than I thought I would. "I enjoyed every second of it," I admit, surprising myself. "Every fucking second of taking his life. When I walked in and saw what he was trying to do to her...I've never felt rage that severe before."
He nods. "I can't blame you. That's what happens when you love someone." I open my mouth to remind him that we weren't serious again, but he sucks in a breath before saying, "What are you gonna do if DeLuca ever finds out?"
His expression falls and his eyes open wide. "Shit, Ricardo. He'd kill you over this...if you're lucky. DeLuca's hit list is not something you ever want to be at the top of. The devil himself has more compassion."
I wouldn't doubt it.
When I don't answer him, he slams a hand on the table. "Fuck it, if you're going down me and Jackson are going down with you. We'll go down fighting together."
"Don't be stupid, Tyrone," I say, my stomach knotting. "If worse comes to worse, you follow any and all instructions that I leave you. To the fucking T...understand?"
He scrunches his face. "Instructions? Goddamn, brother. You really have thought about this." He leans forward. "Does he know? Are you in danger?"
"No," I lie. "Don't worry, DeLuca's not trying to kill me."
Not for another 9 months or so, give or take.
"But," I say, my tone dead serious. "In the event that I ever was—promise me you'll do everything I tell you to do."
"Like what?"
"You grab Momma, Jackson, Shelby and Alyssa and you get the fuck away from this place. You run as far away as you can. Someplace he would never think to look for you and you do not under any fucking circumstances try and go after him." I slam the counter. "Promise me, Tyrone."
He nods. "Okay. Damn. I promise."
I exhale sharply and close my eyes. "Thank you."
"Ricardo is there something else going on that I need to know about?"
"No," I say sharply. I down the rest of my glass and head for the front door. "Go check on Jackson. I'll see you tomorrow, I have to take care of something."
"Whoa, Ricardo hold up."
When I turn around he says, "You just slammed like four glasses of whiskey...not to mention all the alcohol you had at the bar." He glances at his watch. "You're gonna be worse off than Jackson when it all catches up to you in the next few minutes."
I brush him off. "I'll be fine."
Chapter 30 (Lou-Lou)
I close the church doors behind me and zip up my Jacket. It's almost March and it's freezing outside.
I sink against the doors and close my eyes. The hardest part isn't coming here...it's leaving.
It's walking back to my apartment feeling so hollow and alone.
It's missing them both so much that every single part of my body physically aches.
It's thinking of what could have been.
But still...it's nothing compared to the guilt and shame I have for choosing him.
For killing my baby.
The pain is enough to bring me to my knees.
I curl my arms around myself and scream. I scream because I can't cry.
Because I'm not allowed to grieve.
Because I don't deserve to.
Because this is all my fault.
I feel someone tap my shoulder and I jerk my head up to face some man wearing a gray suit. "Can I help you?"
He looks taken back. "Funny, I was about to ask you the same question."
His eyes are piercing blue and I'd be lying if I said he wasn't attractive. If you like the pretty boy look and all.
"I'm fine," I bite out.
"Doesn't appear that way," he says, holding his hand out to me. When I refuse to take it, he flashes me a smile. "I don't bite."
"And I don't talk to strangers."
I get up without his help and he flips open his jacket, revealing a badge. Most people would be nervous about being approached by a cop in the middle of the night, but not me. DeLuca's got the entire city eating out of his pocket, including law enforcement, so I don't have to worry about anything.
"Am I under arrest, Officer Ford Baker?"
"It's Special Agent," he corrects. "And technically I could arrest you for breaking and entering."
"It's a church and it was unlocked." I hold out my hands to him. "But go ahead, Officer. I dare you." I jab my pointer finger into his chest. "Let's see which one of us will be jobless quicker than you can choke on a donut."
He chuckles to himself. "You know, I heard you were a kitty with sharp claws, but it's nothing compared to the real thing, Lucianna."
He wraps his hand around my finger and takes a step forward while I take a step back. "Or do you prefer Mrs. DeLuca?" He leans down until his lips are hovering over my ear. "Or Ms.Travine."
Trepidation punches me in the chest because there's no way he should know my real last name. No one does.
DeLuca had any and all records of me permanently destroyed after he took me. Hell, up until three months ago I technically didn't even have a last name. There were no traces of me.
I decide to opt for an offensive stance instead of a defensive one. "I have no idea what you're talking about. But you're right about something." I jerk my finger from his hand. "I am Bruno DeLuca's wife...therefore you must have one fuck of a death wish tonight."
I expect him to start apologizing before he goes running off, but he digs his hands into his pockets and produces a business card instead.
When I refuse to take it he shoves it into my hand. "I can help you."
I can't help but laugh. I may hate DeLuca but I'm not a moron. I know better than to trust a Fed.
He scowls at me as I continue laughing at him. "Wow, and here I thought they did a psych analysis before accepting people into the academy." I begin shredding the card. "Look, you're clearly crazy, guy."
He huffs. "It's Special—"
I pat his shoulder and crinkle my nose. "Agent Ford Baker. I know."
I begin walking. "You have two seconds to get back in your car and drive off or I'm telling my husband about this little visit."
I hear footsteps behind me before he calls out, "I know you don't want to be with him. Let me help you, Lucianna."
"I don't know what you mean. I'm happily married and I love my husband dearly."
"Your husband is the devil," he spits.
I twirl around and face him. "Yeah, well. Better the devil you know than the one you don't, right?"
"I'm not the devil," he says. "I'm just a man who wants to see DeLuca pay for all the pain he's inflicted." He raises a brow. "I don't know about you...but I'd prefer to see him pay with his life."
"You can't just kill DeLuca." I look around, making sure we're still alone. "Trust me, Special Agent. He'd already have a plan in place to take out anyone you ever cared about before you'd get a chance to pull the trigger." I look down. "And if he doesn't...believe me—there's other people who do. People you don't ever want to fuck with."
He takes my hand and leads me back to the church. This time, he opens the doors so we're inside.
"That's why we set someone else up to take the fall," he says.
I gesture between us. "There is no we. I'm not going along with whatever insane thing you're plotting."
I go to walk out the door but he reaches for my arm. "I know what he did to you," he whispers. "Both of them."
My spine turns to ice and I close my eyes. "Again, I have no idea what you're talking about, Special Agent."
"You never got a chance to have a childhood. Did you, Lucianna?"
When I don't answer him, he continues. "You weren't allowed to go out, you weren't allowed to have friends...
and any friend you did manage to make ended up making fun of you once they found out how different you were." He brushes my hair to the side and kisses my shoulder. "What was it they used to call you again?" He snaps his fingers. "Baby Alive Doll was it?"
"Baby dead Doll," I choke out.
"That's right." He laughs. "Because you used to—"
"Pee my pants just like Baby Alive Doll...only they all hoped I would die so they called me Baby dead Doll."
My chest heaves as both the memories and the shame impale me. "I couldn't help it...I—"
"Shh. It's okay. It wasn't your fault," he whispers. "Kids are cruel."
And so are you. "Why are you doing this to me?"
"Because I want to help you."
I shake my head and try to twist out of his grasp. "Well, you're not. Besides, my father's dead. DeLuca took care of the problem. So if this was your way of trying to convince me to kill him...you fucked up."
My eyes begin to water. "He saved me from him."
He nuzzles my neck. "Was it before or after he raped you in his conference room and left you naked on the floor with his jizz sprayed all over you for his men to laugh and gawk at?"
He spins me around. "Or was it before or after he first started hitting and choking you when you didn't do what he wanted you to?"
He leans in close, his breath feathering my face. "Or was it when he sent you here on a mission to seduce his fighters like you were some kind of call girl and he was your goddamn pimp?"
He reaches into his pocket. "Or was it when he took this from you?" He holds up a picture of my sonogram and I drop to the floor. "Tell me, Lucianna...did he save you then?"
"Stop!" I scream while snatching the sonogram from him and tucking it away. "How dare you have this. How dare you try and use my—"
"I'm sorry." He kneels down and cups my face in his hands. "I'm sorry I had to do that, sweetheart." He kisses my cheek. "I just needed you to see why I want to help you so much."
"How do you know about all of this?"
"I can't tell you that."
I draw in a breath and hug my knees to my chest. "I want to go home. Please, just let me go home."
He runs his hands up and down my arms. "Look, it's been a long night." He takes my hand and flips it palm side up before placing another card in it. "This is my number. My private number is on the back. You can call me anytime. Day or night. I don't expect you to make a decision now. I know you have a lot to think about...but I do need you to make a decision relatively soon. Call me when you're interested in hearing the plan." He looks me in the eyes. "It's a good one, Lucianna. And it will keep you and those you care about safe."