Mafia Romance

by Aleatha Romig, Skye Warren, Annika Martin, Natasha Knight, Kaye Blue, Michelle St. James, Renee Rose, Parker S. Huntington, Alexis Abbott, Willow Winters

  I nod and swallow the lump in my throat. She looks sad like me until she smiles at me, then it changes everything.

  She’s strange. Like she doesn’t want to be here.

  I may not belong here, but she doesn’t either.

  “Thanks,” I tell her as I walk to her and she nervously looks between me and the woman again, her mom.

  She’s shy as she talks to me. “I haven’t met you before.” And then she smiles again, even sweeter this time. She smiles at me like her happiness was meant to belong to me. Like I could take that happiness from her. Like I could be happy too. “I’m Chloe Rose.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chloe

  Maybe if I leave, the nightmares will go away.

  Places hold memories. They can’t help it. The image of a dented brass doorknob comes to mind. I’ll never forget the memory of what put that dent into the hard metal. The sound of a click against a window, the window he crept through late at night. It can’t help but exist, yet it carries so much heaviness with it. So much more than just an object, so much more than just a place.

  I’m done crying; I’m done remembering.

  I think I’ve been ready to leave for a long time. Longer than the time that first light went out on the street and I had the urge to run in such a primitive way. I think I was ready to run the first time Bastian’s lips pressed against mine. My heart knew it, but it would only beat if he came with me.

  There’s a method to the way I place each item in the old duffle bag. I was given the bag in gym class one year in high school. It was a promotion for some sports drink and I think it could carry at least two weeks’ worth of clothes. That’s all I need.

  Each piece fits in easily. My books I can put in a cardboard box and place in the back. I’ll always need my books.

  Other than my clothes, I don’t know what I’ll take. Toiletries, obviously. But these photographs aren’t mine and the ones I have, I don’t want.

  The light catches the glass of a photo on the far right of the wall. A photo of my mother when she was young, and I was in her arms. I don’t remember that far back, but my uncle said she loved me deeply. That she bundled me up in that picture because it was so cold out and she was worried about taking me outside for the photos.

  She loved me once.

  But she loved the alcohol more.

  I’m okay with it. I’m okay with it all. Because I survived, and I still know how to love. A piece of me will always love her. I’ll love the woman in this photo because she’s not the woman in my nightmares.

  My fingertips brush along the edges of the frame as my throat tightens and I wish I could go back to that time to tell her. I wish I could go back to so much.

  You can only move forward, a voice tells me, and I close my eyes, letting the last tears fall. They linger on my lashes as I open my eyes again and say goodbye to her, leaving the photo where it is.

  I carelessly brush them away, gazing at the full duffle bag as my phone pings. It’s only one of two people. I already know that.

  Please tell me you’re okay. I read the text message from Angie and my heart sinks. I think I would have been good friends with her. Even though neither of us ever belonged here. I’m grateful to leave, but I don’t know how much this place will take from her before she walks away, if she can even walk away.

  I don’t know why she’d stay here any longer than she has to. But it’s her choice, and she knows what she’s doing. Maybe me leaving will push her to run; I try to justify leaving her in the dark with the thought of her being warned to stay away with my disappearance. I can only hope that’s what she does.

  There’s not a damn thing good that lives in Crescent Hills.

  Answer me, she texts me, but I don’t text her back. The next time it pings, I turn off the phone without looking.

  Bastian said it’s better to just disappear and for no one to know where we’ve gone. He’s right, and I don’t want anyone to come looking for me. If I could disappear and be lost in the wind with Bastian forever, I would. Tonight, I’m going to try to do just that.

  I leave the phone on the bed, on the sheets that never belonged to me. It can stay there and when the men come and take everything inside because the bills go unpaid, they can have it.

  They can have every piece of what’s here.

  It never belonged to me and I’m done belonging to it.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Sebastian

  I can’t stop staring at the note on the counter. It’s only a Post-it with the words, “Leaving for the weekend – Seb” written on the yellow square. Eddie will get it on Monday, or maybe this weekend if anyone comes in. The shop is supposed to be empty, with most of the guys going down to the docks for Romano this weekend. There’s a large order of coke coming in. And the butcher shop isn’t needed for that.

  I’ll leave a note and I’ll ghost. He can try to find me all he wants, but I’m done with Romano and this place. Just as the thought hits me, I hear the bells chime at the front door and a chill seeps into my veins.

  “Eddie,” I greet him with a grin, hiding the fact that I didn’t want anyone to know I was leaving until I was gone. I didn’t want anyone to ask questions. “What are you doing here?” I ask and casually lean against the counter. The spool of butcher’s cord is right below me. All of us who work in the shop are familiar with it; we use it to secure packages and orders.

  I don’t reach for it yet, but with the pounding of my blood, I know it’s going to end like this. The desire to get it over with forces a numbness through my fingers and I shake it off, smiling as he answers me.

  “What am I doing? How about, what the fuck are you doing here?” He shoots me a twisted grin as if he’s being friendly, but the look in his eyes is filled with the psychotic glee he’s known for. “I heard Romano wants to talk to you,” he adds as he walks to the counter, the sound of his boots slapping against the floor in time with the pounding of my heart. He tosses the keys to the shop down on the counter and leans closer to me just as I reach for the cord.

  I wind it over my fingers under the counter. The dumb fuck is so hellbent on letting me know my days are numbered in the darkened butcher shop that he doesn’t realize his own imminent demise is only a moment away.

  “Seems he thinks you have something to do with those assholes coming up dead,” he tells me, eyeing me and then glancing out the window as the headlights of a passing car shine through the glass.

  Dread rips through me, thinking it’s someone else and I won’t have time to finish Eddie off, but it’s not. The lights flash and keep on going, heading down to the mechanic shop behind us.

  “Why would he think that?” I ask him, wrapping the rope around once more and then starting on the other hand. I leave less than a foot of cord between the two. Enough to get the thin rope over his head, but not so much that it’ll be too loose when I choke him out.

  “Someone said Marcus came looking for information and was directed to you.”

  My lungs halt and a harsh thud slams in my chest. I ask him quietly, knowing the smirk on my face is dimming and finding it hard to swallow, “And who would that be?”

  “Yours truly,” he gives me the answer with his grin widening. “It was kind of a test,” he tells me as I take in a single deep breath and grip the rope tightly with both hands, my thumbs running along the rough bundles that are fastened around both my hands. “And you failed, Sebastian.” For the first time, his smile fades and he shrugs. “I’m sure there’s a reason though,” he says, feigning sympathy.

  I nod once, making it look like I’m full of regret. And I am. I regret not killing this fucker sooner.

  In one swift moment, my arms are up and around his head. He tries to turn and get out of my reach, but all that does is spin him around, so his back is to my chest as I get the rope right where I want it.

  His feet come back first, trying to kick me as his hands reach up and try to grab the rope before it tightens. He gets the tip of two fin
gers in the loop, but I don’t give a fuck. I’m squeezing so tight I can’t breathe, I can’t move. My muscles are on fire and my teeth grind together as I grunt out the pain. His large body slams into me, shoving me against the back wall. I grit my teeth as his boots squeak against the floor as he throws his head back into my shoulder.

  He throws his body to the left, knocking us both into the tables and I almost lose my grip as I fall hard, smacking the side of my head against the edge of one chair as we tumble to the floor, but I hold on with everything I have, feeling the thin rope dig in deeper.

  I watch his face closely, seeing how red his eyes are getting and how pale his face is.

  His cheeks puff out as his strength wanes. Another kick, but this one’s weaker. A few more seconds and his head lolls. I still can’t breathe, and I pull back harder, feeling the rope nearly cut into his fingers, giving it more slack as the bones break. I hold on tight for another moment, and he doesn’t react. He’s limp and heavy, his dead eyes bloodshot and staring ahead at nothing.

  When I finally release him, I have to slowly unwind the rope and bring the circulation back to my numb fingers. It’s still dark as I pick up the chairs and tables, grabbing Eddie’s corpse by the ankles to move him out of the way. There’s no blood, no sign of a struggle. I check the wall we crashed into, feeling the burn and sting of my muscles. I’ll bruise, but there’s no dents or any sign of what happened. And that’s what matters.

  My shoulders burn as I drag his heavy ass to the back, kicking the swinging door open and pulling him through the kitchen to get to where the freezers are. He isn’t the first and he won’t be the last dead body to be stored here.

  I shut the door hard, giving it the last of my anger and locking it with a loud click that resonates through every inch of me. My body is still on fire, my pulse hammering in my ears.

  Shipments come on Mondays. I’ll be long gone by then. I lock the freezer and look down at my hands. They’re red and the skin is ripped from the rough rope digging into them. Swallowing thickly and breathing in deeply to calm the adrenaline still racing through me, I let a moment pass.

  * * *

  Sitting in the car, I’m still making sure I’ve thought through every bit of this.

  Romano will send people to watch out for me to return, and he’ll send people out looking for me, I know he will. He’ll never find us though and I’m never coming back. I already know that.

  Marcus will let me go, so long as everything happens the way it’s supposed to tomorrow.

  Carter though. I can’t stop thinking about leaving him behind. Ever since we got in the car, I haven’t let go of Chloe Rose’s hand. She gives me the strength I’ve never had, but nothing can help me with this. With saying goodbye to him.

  The keys jingle as I turn off the ignition after pulling up in front of Carter’s house.

  “Stay in the car,” I tell her, turning off the headlights and passing the keys to her hand. Her fingers against mine still ignite something primitive and deep inside of me.

  It stirs a warmth in my heart I never thought existed.

  Her baby blue eyes plead with me not to stop, to just keep going and never look back. I lean forward, spearing my fingers in her hair and resting my forehead against hers. “I won’t be long, I promise,” I whisper against her lips.

  She’s quick to take a kiss, pressing her lips against mine and then pulling away to nuzzle the tip of her nose against mine.

  “Kiss me first,” she demands softly, with her eyes closed and her hands on my thigh. Her fingers lay across my jeans and when she tries to scoot closer to me, the sound of her nails against the denim is all I can hear along with my heart beating faster.

  It beats fast and steady for her.

  “I can tell that you love me when you kiss me,” she whispers, her eyes looking deep into mine as the moonlight caresses her face. “Part of me can. Even if my mind can’t keep up,” she adds.

  “Your mind can’t keep up?” I ask her with a hint of a smile on my lip as I cup her chin. My gaze leaves her as I see a shadow on the sidewalk. Carter’s outside and waiting for me.

  Chloe shrugs, although it’s a sad movement. “There’s just something about the way you kiss me,” she tells me.

  “I love you, Chloe Rose,” I tell her and as she parts her lips to tell me the same, I press my own against hers, slipping my tongue through the seam she gives me. She deepens the kiss, but for only a moment. My heart races and my blood heats.

  She was always meant to be mine.

  The second our lips part, both of us breathing heavier, she whispers, “I love you too.”

  I know she does, and with the parting thought, I open my door and close it as quietly as I can, so I can go to Carter.

  My best friend. Only friend. And the only family I ever had.

  “I was wondering if you’d come tonight,” Carter says while I’m still a few feet away.

  “Is that right?” I ask him as I walk up. Out here is more in the sticks than Dixon Street. All I can hear are grasshoppers and some kids playing ball in the street a block down.

  Carter only nods in response and I can’t fucking stand what I’m about to do.

  “I have something to ask you,” I start out and then backtrack. “How’s it going? You guys doing all right?”

  Carter gives me a weak smile and a half-assed laugh before kicking the ground. “Get on with it, man.” His eyes reflect the way I feel. Like he already knows it’s coming.

  “Maybe we should settle the other thing first,” I tell him, more willing to put an end to that shit than I am to say my final goodbye to him.

  “Is it done?” Carter asks me the second I hesitate to speak. Standing outside of his house on the cracked sidewalk, he shoves both of his hands in his leather jacket pockets. He looks anxious as his eyes dart between the car and me. “I’ve got this feeling,” he starts to tell me and then swallows visibly, before shaking his head.

  I grip both of his shoulders and look him in the eyes. “It’s done,” I tell him with a strength that’s undeniable. “Marcus left the cash yesterday.”

  “Cash?”

  “I didn’t know either. I thought it was, do what he said or die. I didn’t expect the money.”

  Peeking over my shoulder, I take a look back at Chloe, my sweet innocent girl who will never know any of this shit. I’ll protect her from it and from the man I was before her until my last breath. With the stack of cash in my pocket, I reach for it as I watch Chloe stare straight ahead at the dead-end street we’ll never drive down again.

  “Here it is,” I say and hand it over to Carter, opening up his jacket and shoving it in before he can tell me he doesn’t want it.

  I’m the one who was told to kill them, all the names on the photocopy of the list that Marcus gave me. Marcus told me in the alley behind the butcher shop that he wanted information.

  He gave me a list, and I was to get information for him and not say shit to Romano. I wasn’t supposed to ask questions. There are whispers of Marcus, but no one ever sees him. He stays in shadows and they say if you ever see him, you’re dead.

  I was scared shitless that he chose me, and I was ready to do whatever he said to stay off his radar.

  But her name was there.

  It was right fucking there at the bottom of the list. I had to tell him whatever he wanted with this list, it couldn’t be her. I had to beg for her life. He wanted them all dead. Every one of them.

  Not her was all I could tell him.

  However, he got a hold of Chloe’s list, for whatever reason, she hadn’t erased her name yet. The photocopy had her name there, written clearly at the bottom. And he’d added the last names in his own handwriting. At the time, I thought it was odd that two people had each written half of the names, but I never guessed it was her that wrote the list, I would never have known.

  She’d made a list of who she blamed, or hated, I don’t know which is more true. But Marcus decided it would be a hit list and now was t
he time for all of them to die.

  I’ve never known fear like I did when I told Marcus it couldn’t be her. I told him she couldn’t die. Anyone but her.

  He said he would spare her, but that he didn’t want information anymore. He wanted them all dead in the span of three weeks and he didn’t care how.

  I bartered for her life, and then I killed them all. Each and every one. I set their deaths in motion. I paid off a thug with a pack of heroin to take care of Amber. Tamra was a bullet in her head. I can still hear the ringing in my ears. I’m a murderer.

  But I did it to spare Chlo. I had to do it. I’d do it again if kept her safe. I don’t care what kind of man that makes me, so long as she’s still breathing.

  Tomorrow is day twenty, leaving a single day to spare of his morbid deadline.

  “Andrea picks up her package tomorrow. Can you just make sure she gets it?” I ask Carter. Andrea gets an eightball of coke on the regular. I knew that’s how she needed to go when she came to the shop two weeks ago, but Marcus wanted them done in order. So, she had to wait until tomorrow.

  Now I wonder if he requested that on purpose. If somehow, he knew it’d freak Chlo out and that’s why he texted her the way he did.

  He’s a sick fuck, but I lived up to my end of the bargain.

  “She’s done, and it’s done,” I tell him. It’s laced with so much shit, it’ll be quick and easy. Marcus won’t come looking for us. It’ll all be over with.

  We’ll run away, and this nightmare will be over.

  Dave was an accident, Carter’s accident. He didn’t know he was on the list, but Dave had it coming to him regardless, for what he did to Carter and his family. I could never blame Carter for what he did. It’s his story to tell, even if it did fuck him up more than it should have. The fucker was going to die anyway. I told him that.

  Carter’s not a killer; he’s not meant for this life.

  “The money’s yours. I can at least give you that,” I tell him, knowing that money won’t go far with the debt they have. But it’s better than nothing.