Pocketful of Us: Pocket #4

by Chloe Walsh

  Victoria sniffed the air like I had insulted her. "Never."

  "Enough," Daddy commanded. "The show, as they say in theater, must go on." Turning to Raffaele, he smiled. "I have a proposition for you, Raff – identical to the proposition you offered to me."

  Raffaele narrowed his eyes in disgust. "Calisto –"

  "You and your son can walk free from this room tonight. All you have to do is kill the girl who houses your grandchild. Sounds like a fair trade? Two lives for the price of two lives." My father's words, so similar to the ultimatum Raffaele had given him, caused every drop of blood in my body to turn to ice. "Or… you could do us all a favor, put a bullet in your own brain, and they all go free." Grinning like a maniac, Dad retrieved a silver pistol from one of his guards and handed it to Raffaele. "And remember, there is only one bullet, Raff, so choose wisely."

  Seth snorted beside me.

  Meanwhile, I died on the inside.

  I was going to die.

  Raffaele didn’t have a choice.

  It was his life or mine.

  That was no competition at all.

  Just like his son did before him, Raffaele hacked up a ball of phlegm and spat at Cal. Then he turned to look at Sketch who was still cradling his lifeless cousin on the floor.

  "I failed to protect you once, Giacobbe," Raff announced in a gravely tone. He placed a tentative hand on Sketch's bowed head. "But I won't fail you twice."

  And then Raffaele Toretto, the grandfather of my unborn child, made the ultimate sacrifice any father could make for his son.

  He pressed the barrel of the gun against his head and pulled the trigger, just as Sketch cried out, "No, papa, no!"

  Fragments of Raffaele's brain matter splattered everywhere, and then his lifeless corpse joined the equally lifeless corpse of his cousin on the floor.

  Shaking violently, Sketch knelt between both dead men, body swaying back and forth; his vacant eyes wide as saucers.

  Shock, I quickly realized.

  He was going into shock.

  "Oh my God," I sobbed, breaking free from my brother's hold. Surprisingly, Seth let me go and I ran straight to the boy with the bleeding heart.

  "Sketch!" Falling on my knees beside him, I threw my arms around his big body. "Shh." Cradling his head to my chest, I tried to cover his eyes with my hands. I didn’t want him to see this. I didn’t want him to have to remember this moment or have it haunt his dreams every night for the rest of his life. "I'm here."

  "Well, I didn’t expect him to do that," Dad said, sounding thoughtful.

  "Raff loved his son," I hissed through my teeth, tears falling uncontrollably. "Which is more than can be said for you, Cal."

  27

  Sketch

  Cold and merciless, Cal Dillon took everything from me.

  Again.

  Unfeeling and uncaring at all, he reveled in my anguish.

  Again.

  Without thinking twice about it, he took away the life of the man that raised me, and then forced the hand of the man that never had the chance to.

  By the time my mind came to terms with what my eyes had witnessed, I was reeling.

  Completely fucking reeling.

  All I could see was a red mist around me.

  It was everywhere.

  Blood was on my hands and vengeance was on my mind.

  Breathing labored, I carefully lifted my father's head from my lap and placed it on the floor. I didn’t dare look at the other one. The real one. If I did, I knew I would never find my way out of the darkness.

  And I had to climb out of that dark hole of depression.

  I had a girl and a baby on the way that needed me.

  Needed my protection.

  Lying down and dying wasn’t going to work for me.

  It wasn't an option.

  Romi's arms were draped around me, and she was holding me just as tightly as she did all those years ago.

  When he set my mother on fire.

  When he burned my mother alive.

  "No, Mama, no!"

  "Papa, come back…"

  "…We gots to go, Giacobbe... We needs to run away from my daddy…"

  "Sketch," Romi sobbed, crying on her knees beside me. "We have to go. We need to get away from my father…"

  "I ain't running," I muttered under my breath. "I ain't fucking running anymore." Furious, I forced myself to get back up on my feet. To stand up and face my own personal demon. "Do you hear me?" I snarled, shoving Romi behind me and protecting her body with mine. "I ain't running from you, Cal. Ever. Again. So, if you want me, then do it. Just leave her out of it. Kill me if you have to. Just let her live."

  "She's that important to you?"

  "She's everything to me."

  "Well then." Cal Dillon cocked the hammer on his gun. "Let's see if you really are brave enough to die for my daughter, boy."

  "Don’t touch him!" Romi screamed, and I had to push her back down to stop her from throwing herself in front of me. "Please, Daddy, take me instead –"

  "Shut the fuck up, Ro!" I warned, pushing her back down. "You want me, Cal. I'm right fuckin' here. I'm more than willing to give it all up for her. Do you get that? You don’t compare. You don’t come close to how important she is to me. She will always come first to me, so fuckin' shoot me, asshole. Do your worst. You can't scare me anymore."

  He raised his weapon and aimed it at my head.

  Beyond fucking reckless, I took a step toward him, toward my death, and pressed my forehead against the barrel. "Do it," I hissed, eyes locked on his. "I fuckin' dare you."

  "No!" Romi screamed. "No, Sketch, no…!"

  Moments later, a gun shot rang through my ears.

  Hot droplets of blood sprayed my face, but I didn’t feel an ounce of pain.

  Blinking rapidly, I watched as Cal Dillon crumbled in a heap at my feet.

  "We are still playing the revenge game, no? Shoot or suicide?" Seth drawled, eyeing the horrified expressions etched on Cal's frozen soldiers. "As you can tell, it was my turn." His expression turned dark. "And I chose shoot."

  It took a few moments for reality to dawn on Cal's men, but once it did, all hell broke loose. Some of the men turned on Seth, seeking revenge for a man who deserved a far worse death, while others put their body on the line to protect their new boss.

  Diving on top of Romi, I covered her body with mine as a shower of bullets rained down around us.

  Laughing like a deranged maniac, Seth moved like the wind around the room, ducking and dodging bullets intended for him, while he opened fire on anyone who stood against him.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted my mother of all people coming towards me with a gun raised. "This is all your fault," she screamed, cocking the trigger. "You should have died with that whore Carmella–"

  Bang!

  My mother dropped to the floor, as lifeless as the corpses around us.

  On his knees, Presley scrambled towards us, the gun I gave him in the treehouse still hot in his hands from releasing a round.

  Into my mother.

  "Dude, you can thank me later," he choked out before dropping like a sack of potatoes and burying his head under my arm. "But right now, you have to help me protect my brain."

  "Enough," Seth commanded, as the violence slowly dwindled to a stop. "No one else needs to die here tonight."

  Like hell…

  Grabbing the gun out of Presley's hand, I swung my attention to the catalyst of all this suffering. She was backed up in the corner, attempting to go unnoticed.

  I noticed her.

  I suffered the repercussions of her lies every day of my life.

  Without a flicker of doubt or remorse, I raised my gun and aimed it at the redheaded whore. "This is for my mother," I told her. "And this is for the father you stole from me."

  And then I sent a bullet straight through Victoria's skull.

  "Well done!" Seth cackled, applauding my heinous. "About time someone put that woman down. I've only know
n her for a short time, but she is – or should I say was – dreadfully unpleasant."

  On edge, I continued to shield both Romi and Pres, while keeping my eyes locked on Seth, who was watching me with a look of deranged admiration.

  "Well, are you going to thank me, Giacobbe?" he asked, tucking his gun back into his holster. "I did save your life, after all."

  "Yeah," I sneered, not trusting this piece of shit one damn bit, as I carefully lifted my girl to her feet and checked her over. "Let me guess; you saved my life just to kill me yourself?"

  He grinned wolfishly. "Now you're thinking like the man you were born to be."

  He was out of his damn mind.

  Shaking my head. I turned back to Romi, and physically sagged in relief when she squeezed my hand in reassurance.

  Uncaring of who the hell was watching me, I pulled her into my arms, tucking her body under my arm.

  "I have a proposition for you, Giacobbe," Seth continued. "And no, before you ask, it is not the same kind of proposition our fathers gave one another. We are their heirs, not their mirror images."

  I tensed. "I'm listening."

  "I will fight you right here and now, and the winner will be named the rightful leader of Cosa Nostra," he declared. "Or I will give you one week to take my sister and vanish. After that, I will come looking for you, and I will never stop."

  "Or how about I pick option two and you forget that we ever existed," I offered, heart leaping wildly in my chest at the prospect of getting out of this room in one piece.

  "Option two works for me," he agreed. "But Cosa Nostra would never forget that a Toretto still lives and is the rightful head of the family. Which, unfortunately, makes you, not to mention any and all of the children that my sister bears for you, my number one enemy."

  "I don’t want it, Seth," I told him honestly. "Cosa Nostra? The mob?" I shook my head. "I don’t want any of that shit."

  "You might," he hedged. "In time."

  "I won't," I refuted. "Not ever." I didn’t want to join a damn mob. I had no intention of doing anyone's dirty work for them. I had one goal in life. One dream. "I only want your sister," I told him. "As far as I'm concerned, the rest of y'all can go to hell."

  "Tact," Presley muttered, standing up. "Please try a little tact, buddy."

  "I don’t have tact," I shot back, keeping my eyes on Seth. "I am what I am."

  "Yes," Seth mused thoughtfully. "You are Giacobbe Toretto, heir of Cosa Nostra, the strongest family of them all, one hell of an opponent, and my biggest threat."

  "No," I replied. "My name is Sketch Capaldi and she is my family." I reached for Romi's hand. "I'll take option two, Seth. I'll disappear." I blew out a breath before adding, "But I want your word that you won't hurt him." I inclined my head towards Presley. "Give me your word that he's safe and I'll walk away from it all."

  "You have it," he replied, brows furrowing.

  I exhaled heavily and offered him a clipped nod. "Then this is goodbye, Seth."

  "One week, Giacobbe," he called after me when we turned towards the door. "The clock is ticking."

  "Don’t worry." I squeezed Romi's hand tightly in mine. "You'll never see us again."

  28

  Romi

  "Will I ever see you guys again?" Pres asked as he sat motionless in the driver's seat waiting on Sketch, who had gone inside the bus station to get our tickets.

  "Maybe?" I offered, loathing the lie.

  Quinton Presley was our best friend.

  He had saved my life.

  He had saved Sketch's life.

  He had saved the life of our unborn child.

  He was the reason we were both here, and I was telling him goodbye for what I knew in my heart would be the final time. There would be no returning to Pocketful.

  "I’m going to miss you, Pres," I offered, knowing it wasn't nearly enough, but all I could say in this moment. Shuffling forward, I wrapped my arms around his chest, hugging him awkwardly from my perch in the backseat.

  "Not as much as I'm going to miss y'all," Pres replied gruffly.

  Moments later, Sketch returned to the car. Swinging my door open, he helped me out before grabbing our lone duffel bag and hoisting it onto his shoulder. Taking my hand in his, he offered me a reassuring squeeze before finally addressing our friend. "So, I guess this is goodbye?"

  "Yep." Pres sniffled, wiping his glasses. "Guess so."

  "Yeah." Sketch blew out a pained breath. "So, I guess I was wrong, huh?"

  "Well, you usually are," Pres choked out, unable to contain his emotions now.

  "About that stuff I said before about us not being friends?" Sketch reminded him. "When I said all of that, I didn't realize that I was looking at the greatest friend I never knew I had…"

  "Please don’t." Holding a hand up, Pres waved us both off, "Just go before I completely lose it."

  "Thank you, Presley," I whispered, "for everything."

  Wrapping an arm around me, Sketch tucked me into this side. "Take care, Pres."

  And then we walked away.

  From our friend.

  From our families.

  From our hometown of secrets.

  Boarding a bus to God knows where, with only each other to lean on, we took that leap of faith.

  We took it together.

  "Don’t worry about the future, Ro," Sketch said, entwining our fingers together. "Because wherever it takes you, I'll be two steps behind you." He smirked. "Tailing your ass, just like always."

  I smiled up at him. " Since forever?"

  He squeezed my hand. "And for always."

  Epilogue

  Six Months Later

  Dear Presley,

  It's been awhile since we last talked – and no, before you think it, I'm not trying to sound like an Eminem track when I write this. I actually come bearing good news for once.

  She did it, Pres. She gave me a son. You should've seen her, man. Romi was incredible. You've gotta see him, Pres. He looks just like his mama. I couldn’t love him more if I tried. Shit, I hope I can do this, man… be a good father to my kid.

  Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that our son is healthy and well. We named him Christopher Raffaele. I won't write our last name on paper, but just know that we're all safe. We're doing okay. We're in Europe for now, but we'll be moving on soon. Gotta stay on our toes, you know?

  I'm sorry I can't give you more information than that, but it's not safe. Not with Seth still out there, holding a grudge. He'll kill my family, Pres. His own sister and nephew first chance he gets. So please burn this letter as soon as you've read it.

  Oh, and thank you, by the way. I don’t know if I ever told you that when shit was going down. You helped when you didn’t need to and I'm grateful. Like I told you the last time I saw you; you were the greatest friend I never knew I had. Still are. And who the hell knows; maybe we'll luck out and Seth will forget all about us.

  Anyway, I hope this letter finds you well. More than that, I hope that one day, I get to give you that long overdue hug.

  From Sketch.

  P.S: Romi said that I had to give you kisses at the end of this letter. —> Xxx

  P.P.S: Not in your wildest dreams, nerd.

  Rolling onto my side, I reached a hand out and grabbed a lighter off the nightstand.

  Without hesitation, I ignited the flame and held it up to the crumpled piece of paper in my hands.

  Your secret's safe with me, buddy…

  When the flame engulfed the paper, turning it gold before darkening, I leaned over the edge of the bed and tossed it in the nearby metal trashcan, watching as the paper slowly turned to ash and cinched out.

  The shower motor in the adjoining bathroom switched off.

  Moments later, the door clicked open.

  "Are you turning into a pyromaniac now?" My part-time lover stepped out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel. "Should I be concerned?"

  Rolling onto my back, I folded my arms behind my head and smirked as he prow
led towards me. "No more concerned than your wife should be when she finds out whose bed you've been sleeping in."

  "I do not sleep in this bed." His eyes flared with heat when he reached me. "I fuck in this bed."

  I rolled my eyes. "I hate you."

  "Yes, but you love my cock." Climbing onto the bed, he straddled my hips. "And you love every minute of my fucking." Pinning my hands to the headboard, he leaned in close. "Most of all, you love the fact that you hate me so much that it makes you hard."

  "Regrettably true." Shivering, I sagged against the pillows at my back. "Did I ever tell you that I have lousy taste in men."

  "Well, good thing I'm not your man," he replied.

  I arched a brow. "Oh, you're not?"

  "No." He smirked. "You're mine."

  "You're the devil."

  "Welcome to hell, pretty boy."

  Thank you so much for reading!

  That's all from the Capaldi/Dillon/Toretto clan for now.

  I really hope you enjoyed Romi and Sketch's story.

  Keep an eye out on social media for my next release.

  Lots of love,

  Chloe xx

  Other Books by Chloe Walsh

  The Pocket Series:

  Pocketful of Blame

  Pocketful of Shame

  Pocketful of You

  Pocketful of Us

  Standalones:

  Endgame

  The Faking it Series:

  Off Limits – Faking it #1

  Off the Cards – Faking it #2

  Off the Hook – Faking it #3

  The Broken Series:

  Break my Fall – Broken #1

  Fall to Pieces – Broken #2

  Fall on Me – Broken #3

  Forever we Fall – Broken #4

  Breaking Point – Broken #4.5 (TBR)

  The Carter Kids Series: