X-394

by Dee Garcia

  Gio immediately shut his trap and within seconds, all focus was redirected to the task at hand. Aside from being the oldest, I supposed this was why Alessio was the next heir to our family empire. He truly was our father’s spawn, from looks to tactics to personality, and if I were being truly honest, he was infinitely worse. Mercy nor remorse were a part of his repertoire. He was immune to it, probably from years of exposure to how Daddy handled business, and as a result, he'd learned his own tricks of the trade that made him all the more intimidating and lethal as hell. In other words, he was Satan reincarnated.

  “As I was saying,” Alessio went on, “once we make it inside the premises, we need to stick together.”

  “Obviously we knew that, but how the fuck do we know where this French tart is supposed to be? That layout is massive,” Gio said warily.

  Alessio shook his head. “We won't know. Precisely why this is not going to be as easy breezy an operation as our dear sister seems to think. Not only do we need to take out security, we also have to search every nook and cranny of that estate for the bastard himself.”

  “Who's to say he won't flee?” Matteo questioned.

  “He won't. Once his muscle mass has been removed from the equation, LeRoux won't dare step foot outside those doors without an escort.”

  “So he's just going to hide? He has to know we’d go looking for him.”

  “I understand where you're going with this,” Alessio said, steepling his fingers, “but once we obliterate his surveillance, he won't know who's in or out.”

  “He has a point,” I agreed, glancing around the table at my brothers.

  A thoughtful silence passed between us until Gio brought an impatient finger down onto the blueprint.

  “How are we going to get in, though? We can’t just walk in through the front gates.”

  “Right here,” I said, pointing to the side of the property. “We use the trees to our advantage. Climb up high enough to remove outdoor security without being spotted, then drop down on the other side once it's clear. We’ll have to sprint across the lawn but this side is definitely in closest range to the estate, and if these descriptions are accurate, then his surveillance equipment should be just beyond that first room.”

  “What about killing the breakers?” asked Gio.

  Matteo leaned forward, placing his elbows onto his knees, shaking his head. “Cutting off their power source would lead us straight to death.”

  “He's right. Plus, it's really not necessary,” I added. “The area we’re crossing doesn't have a camera. Yes, we’ll have to dodge the ones by the backdoor but that shouldn't be too difficult if we swoop in one by one.”

  Gio glanced between us with a worried expression marring his handsome face. “This seems like an awful lot for just us four to handle. Are you sure Pa gave you the green light on this, Les?”

  All eyes flickered curiously to our eldest brother and his response was a simple nod. “We wouldn't be sitting here otherwise.”

  Twenty minutes later, we had a set plan of attack in place and were preparing to make our move. Gio and I headed outside to gear up while Matteo stayed upstairs to wait for Alessio, who was changing out of his usual attire, namely suits and ties. The moment we stepped out into the cool August night, Gio pulled out a pack of cigarettes and sparked one up, sucking in a long drag.

  “You really need to quit.” I couldn't hide the disgust in my voice.

  “Yeah, well, when I quit feeling like everyone in our family could die at any given moment, then maybe I won't feel the need to smoke,” he said, blowing out a large cloud between his lips.

  I hit the button on my key fob and the trunk of my car popped open.

  “No one's going to die,” I reassured my brother as we came around the back end of my beast. “Once we get in there and you work your magic, it'll be easier than Les thinks.”

  Gio hit his beloved cancer stick again and shook his head. “I don't know, Petal. I have a bad feeling.”

  I chuckled. “You always say that. Chill, G.”

  “I'm serious. Something feels off.” He exhaled another puff. “This operation is huge. Don't you think Pa would've tagged along, or at least sent us with backup?”

  Securing my baroness belt in place, I slid several blades into their designated slots and holstered two pistols at the sides of my legs. “You know Daddy doesn't get his hands dirty anymore, and who's he supposed to send for backup?”

  “The Ravennas.”

  “Yeah right, bro. Luca and Liana aren't trained like we are and they're only two people.”

  “Two people who can shoot a gun and cover us, if necessary.”

  I shook my head as I locked my 5.56mm cartridge belt around my hips. “Daddy would never ask Marcello for his children to come in as backup, especially not Liana.”

  “What about Liana?” Alessio’s voice echoed in the silence of the night as he and Matteo approached, both already armed.

  Handing Gio the only vest I had, I dragged my gaze to my eldest brother. “He's asking why Pa didn't send us with backup.”

  Matteo scoffed. “And you want Liana for cover? She's Mother Teresa in a twenty-one-year-old’s body.”

  Gio pushed the vest back to me and shrugged. “I'm just saying, bro. This shit sounds like way too big of a job for us four to handle alone.”

  “If you're gonna pussy out, then just stay here. We have enough on our plate as it is,” Matteo growled, rolling his eyes.

  “Hey!” I shoved Gio aside and barreled up to my asshole of a brother, pushing a finger into his chest. “Leave him the fuck alone. You know this shit isn't his cup of tea. Either change your nasty attitude or you can stay here.”

  “For fuck’s sake!” Alessio roared. “Both of you, enough!”

  We all froze, glancing around at one another in the dim lighting of the parking lot. Matteo held his hands up in surrender and I retreated beside Gio, who was now armed but looking no less uneasy about the mission ahead. Not a word was uttered between us as we piled into the blacked-out family SUV and headed for LeRoux’s estate with Alessio behind the wheel. His air of authority kept us subdued, which I was thankful for because Gio sat beside me in the backseat, growing more weary with every passing light. I reached across the seat and took his hand, giving it an encouraging squeeze of support. His head swung to where I sat and the small smile that quirked his lips spoke volumes, hitting me right in the heart. I hated seeing him like this but fact of the matter was, we needed him. We were a family and unfortunately, Gaspard LeRoux fucked with our family. Now it was time to remind the Frenchman that the Scarsis were not to be taken lightly.

  Breathe, I mouthed to my brother, and he nodded before returning his attention out the window.

  Taking a breath of my own, I peered out the glass beside me and watched Manhattan pass me by in a blur. Through the illuminated scenery of buildings and street lights, I thought back on everything my brothers and I had discussed at the compound. I knew my father wouldn't let us go on this operation alone if he knew we’d be killed, but suddenly I couldn't help but feel like perhaps Gio was right.

  The check Scarsi had given me was burning a hole in my pocket, my head along with it. Dozens of thoughts skittered through my mind as I rode the elevator back down to the main floor of S.I., retrieved my helmet from security, and navigated my way—in a nonplussed and very disturbed state—to my bike. My girl. My tuxedo black GSX-R1000. Noir, as I liked to call her.

  Stuffing my head into the helmet, I swung a leg over the seat and fired her up while I wondered how the fuck I was either A, going to come up with fifty G’s in thirty days or B, how I was going to take someone's life and not feel an ounce of guilt or remorse for the rest of my life. Neither option was easy or preferable to the other, and with my financial situation being a world of non-existence, I was essentially a dead man walking…

  Unless I signed my name on the dotted line and sold my soul to the devil.

  Ultimately, I think I knew what my decision would be
, but I was given three days to thoroughly think it through, and I intended to use every last minute of that freedom before I gave Scarsi any sort of firm answer.

  With a troubled sigh, I jerked up the kickstand and rode away from the building, following the dirt road in between aisle upon aisle of rusted cargo pods to the front of the property. A faint hint of the salty water attacked my senses beneath my helmet as strips of the harbor flashed by me on my left, nearly blinding me through the tinted face shield from the sun’s reflection casting off the surface. But even sitting at its highest point, with bright rays that could incinerate your skin, there was no mistaking autumn had officially settled in. The cool bite in the air whipped against my knuckles the faster I zoomed toward the iron gates securing the premises. It’s a good thing I’d thought to throw on my leather jacket that morning, otherwise I would’ve been frozen by the time I made it back to the shop.

  Half an hour later, I pulled up to Royce’s, my pride and joy that unfortunately was failing a little more with each passing day. I hated to think how disappointed my father would have been, especially when he’d thrown every dime he’d ever saved into buying the place over two decades ago. Shaking my head in disappointment, I pushed open the door with a heavy hand, the telltale chime echoing through the emptied and outdated lobby. Dingy white walls and faded checkerboard floors were literally all she wrote. At one point in time, there used to be vintage car paintings hung around too, but I took those home after two punks tried robbing me one night while I was closing up alone.

  Zak—my only employee who I could barely afford to keep on payroll—poked his head out from the office with a smile at the sound of my arrival, the friendly gesture disappearing almost immediately as I slipped behind the registers and shuffled past him into the room without a word.

  “You okay, boss?” he asked warily.

  Poor kid. I worried him on a regular basis. Not intentionally, of course, but stress radiated off me in scorching waves and he wasn't an idiot.

  Dropping into the worn office chair, I scrubbed a hand down my face and dragged my gaze to his. “Yeah, all good. Just end of the week exhaustion. Anyone call while I was out?”

  He shook his head and lifted himself onto the vacant desk across the small room.

  “Right,” I said, ’cause I should've known.

  No one ever called when I left him in charge. Hell, we barely received any calls even when I was in the shop, which was every day of the damn week. Walk-ins were few and far between and scheduled appointments were a nearly extinct concept I’d given up hope on. No matter what I did, nothing helped business pick up. I’d tried dropping the prices, upping the prices and offering sales, more marketing, a short thirty-second commercial that cost me an arm and a leg. Royce’s just couldn’t compete with the big dogs like Mavis and Goodyear, especially sitting in the heart of the Bronx, in an outdated building that looked like it was falling apart.

  “Let's close up then,” I rose to my feet. “No point in sitting around and twiddling our thumbs. It's almost six anyway.”

  “No, it's not, it's only fo—” he started to say, but I lifted a hand as I made it to the door, abruptly cutting him off mid-sentence.

  “It's okay, really. Closing two hours early isn't going to hurt sales. Staying open will.”

  “I can go home,” he offered softly, knowing full well what I meant by my statement.

  In a business sense, I should’ve let him go long ago, but I didn’t have the heart to send him on his way. For a recently graduated high school kid, Zak was a hard worker, responsible, and he knew his shit. I was paying him minimum wage and could only give him a few hours on the schedule each week, if that. Why he stuck around when he could've had a good paying job elsewhere, I'll never know, but I couldn't say I wasn't grateful to have at least one person who believed the shop could rise; or in me, for that matter.

  “We’ll both go home, Zak. It’s Friday. No one is going to drop by at this hour anyway.”

  Reluctantly, he eased off the desk and exited the office while I killed the lights and shut the door. When I spun around to follow him out, he was opening one of the registers, as was part of our typical closing routine. Routine wasn't necessary, though, when the contents of the register hadn't changed much since I’d opened the doors in the morning.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, stepping around the counter.

  His eyes swung to mine, a small stack of twenties already in his hand. “Cashing out?”

  “Did anyone come in today?”

  Zak shook his head. “Just the old man you mentioned from this morning.”

  “He had an oil change, right?”

  “Yep.”

  “Then I can take care of that tomorrow when I come in. No need to count the entire drawer just for petty cash. Lock ’em up and grab your stuff.”

  Again, Zak was hesitant, and I suspected he, in one way or another, associated an early day to imminent termination. The thought beset me because I’d given him my word a few months back when I came clean as to why I was cutting his hours. Obviously, I realize now it wasn’t fair to him, or even honest on my part, for promising him a job no matter what the circumstances may be, but one, I didn’t want him stressing more than he already did and two, I wasn’t a man who went back on his word. If that meant selling the shirt on my back to keep the shop open, I would, no questions asked.

  But pretty words meant nothing when reality painted a vastly different story...

  “Have some fun this weekend.” I threw an arm over his shoulder and shook him to my side. “I’ll see you Monday, okay?”

  Zak nodded silently as we fell into step and walked out of the shop into the cool August afternoon. He helped lock up the two bays while I secured the front door, and then with a small wave, he headed to his car, hands shoved in his pockets, head hung low. His distress was clear and knowing it was my fault made it a difficult sight to stomach. But there wasn't much I could do except swallow down the pang of guilt that flooded me and watch him drive away. Hopefully there were better days ahead. I wasn’t going to hold my breath though.

  When his car disappeared in the distance, I went around the side of the building where I’d parked Noir, wondering what would happen if I had to permanently close the shop. I knew Zak would be able to find another job; hell, I’d refer him anywhere and everywhere, but what would that mean for me? For Mama?

  Speaking of Mama…

  Mounting the bike, I slid my helmet in place and checked the time on my watch. It was almost five in the afternoon and I hadn’t heard from her all day. What was she up to? She’d been having a good week, health-wise, but that fluctuated more than I cared for. I’d made it a habit to check up on her as often as possible, a habit she both loathed and loved in equal measure. Sure, she was always thrilled to see me, but she hated being coddled. Even in her weakest moments, she wanted to do everything herself, to be independent, and while I understood that, I knew she was very aware of how limited that independence really was. She’d taken care of me all my life, selflessly put me before her own needs, and now it was my turn to do the same for her.

  Mama’s house was a little over four blocks away from the shop and conveniently about ten minutes from mine. Deciding I should stop by on the way home rather than come back later in the evening before she went to bed, I pulled into my usual spot in her driveway, killed the engine with a flick of my wrist, and started up the paved walkway my dad had added when I was a kid. The garden wasn't as bright and cheerful as it was back then, but the ranch-style house was still in good condition, and I changed up the flower beds every few months to keep Mama happy, along with other smaller projects upon her request.

  Unlocking the blue door with my key, I stepped into my childhood home and kicked off my boots out of habit. ‘No shoes in the house’ had always been a firm rule and it’d carried over into my home as well.

  “Mama,” I called out as I made my way to her room, passing the living room and kitchen along the way.

&
nbsp; Everything was still the same, from the worn hardwood floors to the outdated floral wallpaper that adorned some of the walls. The kitchen looked like something out of the fifties too, with yellow walls, ancient appliances, dark cabinetry, and all the original hardware. Back when the shop was doing well, I'd offered to renovate a few rooms, but Mama had refused and said everything held memories she wasn't willing to part with. I didn’t press her further because at the end of the day, it was her home, and if she wanted to keep my father’s memory alive, then I’d help her preserve it.

  I found her reading in my father’s Lazy Boy recliner, the very one she’d wanted moved to her room when she realized sitting up was less depressing than laying down all day. Her kind brown eyes lifted to mine in surprise as I leaned up against the door jamb and crossed my arms.

  “Whatcha reading?” I asked curiously upon noting how quickly she shut the book closed.

  “Oh, nothing. Just, um, a romance, that’s all.” She blushed and tucked it away between her and the arm rest.

  Chuckling softly, I waggled my eyebrows. “A romance, huh? I’m assuming by your reaction that means you were neck deep in some really good smut?”

  “Xander Royce!” she shrieked, and I held up my hands in surrender, trying but miserably failing to hide my amusement.

  “What are you doing here? It's 4:30 in the afternoon.”

  I shrugged noncommittally. “Early day. How are you feeling?”

  “A little tired but nothing I can't handle. I've got a pot of chili going if you want to stay for dinner.”

  My stomach rumbled at the mere thought of Mama’s chili. “I knew something smelled good. Please tell me it's almost ready? I'm starving.”

  “Should be any minute now. Just have to check it one more time and get the rice cooking. I was so enthralled with the story I completely forgot to do it earlier. Give me a few minutes and I'll—”

  “I've got it,” I offered, stalking into the room to kiss her plump cheek before heading back out to the kitchen.

  Finding the rice cooker, or anything for that matter, was a mission as of late. Everything was in a different spot almost every time I’d come over in the last month or so. No, Mama wasn't losing her mind; she was just bored, and that boredom had led her to rearranging even the most common day items frequently. Thankfully it wasn’t furniture or anything requiring too much strength, but still, I worried she was doing too much. I couldn't exactly monitor her all hours of the day though, and she refused to have a nurse drop by while I was at work. That left me little to work with. I made a mental note to buy her a few things I knew she liked that could potentially keep her busy and out of harm's way; books and crossword puzzles, more wool for her knitting box, maybe even those hand-stitched embroidery things.