Glitter and Greed (Brooklyn Brothers #4)

by Melanie Munton

  But he had to hold it together until we had Gia back, and I wasn’t sure he could. Gucci Loafers kept one-upping his bids, acting like he could go on forever. He must have had a lot of faith in his bodyguards because Luka was in a visible rage. Everyone close to him gave him a wide berth, yet the Frenchman didn’t look concerned in the least.

  “One million,” Luka barked, raising the bid significantly.

  The room went dead silent.

  When Gucci Loafers looked momentarily surprised, Luka smirked. “I never said I didn’t have a checkbook. But if that’s a little too rich for your blood, I’m still happy to give you a demonstration of my preferred weapons.”

  Confidence cracking, Gucci Loafers asked with obvious trepidation, “What exactly are you proposing?”

  “I’ll fight you for her if you can’t pay,” Luka answered. “Anyone can write a check. A bank account is not where real prowess lies.” He shucked off his suit jacket. “Let’s go. You and me.”

  Gucci Loafer’s face turned beet red. He was clearly upset at being called out in front of this group, having both his wealth and manhood challenged. He glared at Luka for long moments before eventually baring his crooked teeth and snarling, “If you want the whore so badly, take her. To catch your interest, she clearly must come from contaminated stock.” His gaze flicked over to me. “No doubt that one has a tainted pussy now.”

  Oh, shit.

  Immediately, I knew our carefully orchestrated plan had just been blown out of the water. Luka may have been a former soldier, but he had never been able to train his temper. Discipline that hot-under-the-collar anger.

  One second, he was right in front of me.

  The next, he was across the room and pummeling his fists into the Frenchman’s face. He flew at him before anyone could react, including Gucci Loafer’s bodyguards.

  They were reacting now, though.

  Having to use all of his strength, one of the guards yanked Luka off Gucci Loafers, while the other moved to assist in the attack. Though he never got the chance because Rome charged the guy and shoved him against the wall.

  I blinked, hardly believing what had just happened in a matter of seconds—

  Then I was standing in the middle of chaos.

  Masculine shouts and feminine screams reverberated off the walls as the women clambered off the gang plank, scrambling for escape, while the buyers struggled to rein them in and join the fight at the same time. Some men just hauled ass back down the tunnel toward the exit, forgoing any altercations. Bodies slammed into me, nearly knocking me over in my heels. Everyone became so frantic that those bodies became blurry shapes in my vision as I fought to find purchase in the pandemonium.

  Finally, I spotted Luka. As if the same force had called out to him, his head whipped around, his gaze immediately seeking me out. They were wide and a little…fearful?

  My heart lurched.

  Luka never showed fear.

  “Run, Cat!” he roared. “Get out of here!”

  Like hell.

  Despite the agreement I’d given Luka just before entering the room, I wasn’t running away. I wasn’t saving myself and leaving him to fight this battle alone. A battle I was as every bit involved in as him. I knew what I needed to do. But before I could command my muscles to move, a face flashed through a clearing in the writhing crowd.

  I was staring directly into the eyes of Alonso Garcia.

  And he was staring back.

  Then his mouth curved into the most evil of grins. His eyes were full of recognition—and the promise of retribution.

  He’s seen me. It’s all over.

  It was now or never.

  Through the thralling madness, I searched for Gia along the gang plank. That’s what Luka and Rome needed me to do—help their sister, get her to safety—so that’s what was going to happen. About half the kidnapped women were scurrying around the room, running from their would-be captors. The other half remained on the gang plank, appearing terrified and frozen. Gia, on the other hand, didn’t look the least bit unsure of what to do. She was sandwiched between two women and was desperately trying to shove them out of her way.

  I rushed in her direction, dodging feet and flying fists. When my stilettos got stuck in nearly every crack on the ground, I yanked both of them off, leaving me barefoot. I didn’t drop the shoes, though, because my first thought was these would make a decent weapon.

  Better than a jump rope, right? Luka would be proud.

  I might be losing it.

  “Gia!”

  Her wide brown eyes flew to me and sparked with relief. It registered somewhere in the back of my mind that she had a black eye, and my heart sank a little more. She was getting jostled by the women on either side of her, both of whom looked on the verge of having nervous breakdowns, and the plank was too narrow for Gia to get around them.

  When I finally reached the plank, I yelled, “Jump over the bars.”

  With her wrists bound in front of her, it was a battle to get her in the right position without pulling her arm out of socket. Eventually, she just gripped the top bar and hurled herself over it, obviously unconcerned about sustaining another injury. Catching her arms, I steadied her until she regained her footing.

  “We have to get out of here!” I told her. “Hurry!”

  We didn’t get more than two steps before my hair was wrenched back and two vice-like arms hauled me backwards.

  “Looks like I’ve caught myself a little pussy Cat,” a male voice hissed in my ear. “I’m afraid your nine lives are up, querida.”

  Alonso.

  My eyes slid shut, my throat gritty like sandpaper as I swallowed.

  Gia spun around, her eyes going wide at the man holding me. She took a step in our direction, like she was about to come back for me when—

  “Gia!”

  Enzo emerged through the crowd like some invincible warrior, taking out anyone who stood in his way. For such a normally calm, composed man, the Rossetti patriarch had a savage expression on his face and moved with a brutality I’d never imagined him capable of.

  When Gia looked back at me, I screamed, “Go!”

  She shook her head and made like she was coming for me again.

  “Go! Now!”

  Her decision was taken away from her when Enzo finally reached her and pulled her toward the tunnel. Distantly, I heard her cries at her father to go back for me. That’s when a strange kind of peace settled over me. No matter what happened to me, at least Gia made it out safely.

  Luka would have his sister back.

  “How foolish of you to come here,” Alonso rasped, yanking harder on my hair. “Did you really think you could evade detection forever? Your weakness makes you far too predictable.”

  My weakness for Luciana. To find her.

  Alonso chuckled against my neck. “He will be so eager to have you back. And it will be my pleasure to be the delivery man.”

  Panic infused my bones.

  I couldn’t go back. Not back there. Not to him.

  Tightening my fingers around my stiletto, I mentally recalled the moves Luka taught me inside his ring that one morning. Disarm, disengage. When I let my legs go limp, Alonso’s hold on me fumbled, loosening. Enough for me to drive the spiked heel into his thigh, sending him stumbling backward, howling in pain. Pushing to my feet, I quickly whirled around and kicked him in the groin. With another bellow of pain, the bastardo dropped to his knees, a perfect position for me to—

  “NYPD!”

  Gracias de Dios.

  That must have been Bryce in the tactical gear with his gun raised, followed by his law enforcement colleagues. They flooded into the room and pointed their weapons at the remaining suited men, shouting at them to get down on the ground and put their hands behind their heads.

  My knees almost gave out in relief.

  Blessed, blessed relief.

  Gia was safe. The other women were going to be rescued and returned to their families. These monsters would be arrest
ed, never to poison the earth again with their evil. The Garcia cartel kingpin would finally be behind bars. And everyone came out of it unscathed. Luciana was still missing, but we now knew more about this operation than ever. It was only a matter of time before I found her.

  How foolish I was to speak so soon.

  A gunshot suddenly rang out, cracking loudly in my ears.

  My heart leapt into my throat as time itself seemed to levitate in the air.

  Everybody in the room froze as each pair of eyes searched frantically for the source—and recipient—of the bullet.

  The sound of a body hitting the ground pierced the silence.

  Oh, God.

  Rome was down.

  I was back in the desert.

  Back in the sand, dust, and dirt. It clogged my throat until my airway closed up. The heat scalded my skin, my face pouring with sweat. I had the instinct to shield my eyes from the blistering sun, only there was no sunlight down here in this pit of wretched despair. I smelled blood in the air, felt it on my hands.

  Only this time, the blood belonged to my own brother.

  Not my brother in arms. Not my teammate. My actual blood brother.

  I was thrust back into the miserable present inside a room of horrors as I knelt down beside Rome. He was lying on his back, eyes shut, with a hole in the center of his chest. A hole that was steadily pumping out blood, forming a pool around him. His breathing was wheezy and uneven and growing weaker by the second.

  I used to think I wasn’t afraid of anything.

  Even in that desert as I’d held my fallen comrade in my arms, listening to him take his final breaths, I hadn’t been afraid. Grief-stricken, yes. Mournful. And eventually, numb. But I hadn’t feared for my own life. Somewhere down the line, I’d simply accepted that this was my fate, and there were worse ways to go than defending one’s country and family.

  No. Death didn’t scare me.

  The death of the people I loved, however…

  That scared the fucking shit out of me. And I’d been feeling it a hell of a lot lately. Dad’s heart attack months ago. Cat’s recent brushes with danger. Now, my twin was bleeding out on this goddamn filthy floor, gasping for breath.

  And those thready gasps were getting farther apart.

  Time to get the fuck out of here.

  Bending down, I threw his arm over my shoulders and hauled him up. His skin was clammy and somewhat cold to the touch. The blood had leached from his face. Between that and seeing how close that hole was to his heart…how much blood was pouring from that wound…it wasn’t good. Rome’s chances of survival…

  I shook my head.

  Don’t go there now. Your mission is not yet complete.

  Cops swarmed the room, subduing and cuffing every two-bit criminal asshole in the place. Across the room, Ace helped Bryce restrain one of the pricks in a fancy suit. Gia clutched onto Dad, crying into his shoulder. I knew Nico and Cris would be helping NYPD’s finest detain anyone who ran out of the tunnel’s entrance in the subway station. And Cat…she stood feet away, hugging her middle and staring down at Rome with tears shining in her hazel eyes.

  She’s safe.

  “We have to go now!” I shouted at my family. “He needs an ambulance!”

  Bryce and his boys in blue may have shown up just in time, but they hadn’t been able to stop the bullet that hit Rome. That had come from one of the French guy’s henchmen when he’d seen the NYPD storm in with their weapons. He’d pulled out his own gun, aiming for the cops, but plugged my brother instead.

  So, I’d snapped his goddamn neck.

  The cops wouldn’t be finding a pulse there.

  As far as I was concerned, they could shove the body of that piece of shit right into the fucking sewer.

  I took one last look at Cat, knowing my family would make sure she was protected. Then I used every ounce of strength I had left to shove forward and get my brother out of that awful place.

  An hour later, Rome died in surgery.

  The pathetic girl in the video sobbed for the camera. Begged, pleaded. It was annoying really. Did they ever actually think the begging would work? That their life would somehow be spared because they’d managed to convince the Boss it was better for everyone if he just let them go?

  Pity for them, it was a waste of their final breaths.

  But the girl in the video he’d watched nearly a hundred times would not die yet. For as weak and snivelly as she was, she still served an important purpose. She would return his most prized treasure to him.

  Pity for her, that was where her usefulness ended.

  It was such a shame she didn’t look more like her sister. Not that it would have mattered much to him. This one was too young and meek. Catalina was a fighter, and it was her spirit he was after. Well, that and her sumptuous body that he and he alone would get to enjoy for all time. That body had driven him absolutely mad ever since he first laid eyes on her.

  And the sister here was a poor substitute.

  Not even fully developed into womanhood yet, everything was too tiny and breakable for him. No shape to her hips, no glow to her skin. The only resemblance he saw was the color of her hair, which was the only reason he’d watched the video so obsessively.

  When her head was lowered like that…

  When he couldn’t see her face and her hair obscured the shape of her chest…

  He could pretend it was his Catalina.

  That long, glossy black hair had starred in every one of his fantasies for years. He’d come to think of that hair like the reins on a horse. In his mind, he’d pulled on it when he gave her commands. He’d wrapped it around his fist and yanked when she disobeyed. He’d fiercely clutched the strands when she tried to buck him off.

  Ah, sí.

  His Catalina with all the hair.

  He had just opened the button of his trousers as another fantasy began to sweep him away when his secure line rang.

  Grunting his frustration, he stabbed the speakerphone button with his finger. “This had better be good news,” El Escorpion barked into the phone.

  “Sí, mi amigo. It is very good news.”

  The Boss picked up the receiver to keep the conversation private. Since the man on the other line was none other than Alonso Garcia, the same man who’d sent him that video as proof that he’d detained Catalina’s little sister, what he had to say could not be overheard.

  “What is it?”

  “I know precisely where your little feline is.”

  He glared at the wall. “I already know she’s in New York.”

  Thanks to the inquiries of the good detective, Bryce Connelly, he knew Catalina was somewhere in the five boroughs. He currently had men sweeping the streets for her. It was only a matter of time.

  “Yes, but I know exactly where she is. And with whom.”

  He leaned forward in his chair. “You actually saw her?”

  “With my own eyes.”

  “She’s with a man?” His hand tightened on the handset.

  “Ay, sí. A dangerous one, from what I’ve heard.”

  His lips drew back from his teeth in fury. His Catalina had let another man touch her? It seemed she had even more to learn than he thought.

  “Name,” the Boss bit out impatiently. “Location.”

  “Ah. You see, first, I need your help. The local pigs here think they have enough evidence to arrest me on and had the nerve to throw me behind bars. Think you could pull your strings and take care of that?”

  “Done.”

  He’d do anything if it meant getting Catalina back.

  “Muy bueno. Once my release is secured, then I will tell you where she is and be more than happy to collect her myself. I suspect the price will go up, I’m afraid. Laws of supply and demand and all that.”

  He wanted to laugh, but the simmering anger inside wouldn’t let him. Garcia wanted to actually negotiate price with him? Demand even more? Had the man not learned anything after working with him for three years?
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  “Or you tell me what I need to know right now, unless you want me to mail you the pieces of your slaughtered wife and son.”

  He could practically hear Alonso’s sweat as it poured down his face.

  “You know I’ll do it, Garcia. Do you not think I keep tabs on them? She’s currently visiting her sister in Guadalajara. Would you like me to describe what she’s wearing today?”

  Alonso cursed over the line. “A gym called The Ring. In Brooklyn.”

  He smirked in satisfaction. “So glad we can always see eye-to-eye.”

  “What about my freedom?”

  He hung up.

  He refused to waste another second, now that he knew where she was. He immediately started making phone calls and arrangements. It wasn’t the first time he’d pulled these strings—not by a fucking long shot—and it sure as hell wouldn’t be the last. It was why he’d gone into law enforcement in the first place.

  I always get what I want, Catalina.

  And pity for him, no one else but her would do.

  The doctors were able to revive him.

  Thank Christ, they brought him back.

  His heart had actually stopped beating. Rome had been officially dead for two full minutes before they’d successfully resuscitated him.

  And I felt it.

  The moment it happened, I knew what had happened. The rest of the family did too, because I’d fallen to my knees in the emergency waiting room as I felt the life leave my twin’s body. It’s hard to explain to anyone who doesn’t have a twin. This all-consuming feeling of dread had just swamped my entire body from head to toe. The most powerful feeling of desolation I’d ever experienced. I’d been wracked with such haunting grief that I’d been inconsolable on that cold tile floor. Tears had actually tracked down my cheeks.

  Then a sliver of light slipped through the darkness.

  At that point, I’d been too afraid to hope. I’d held my breath until the surgeon had come out and confirmed my suspicions that maybe he was still alive. Rome had been hemorrhaging by the time the ambulance arrived at the hospital. Not long after they’d wheeled him back into surgery, he went into cardiac arrest. A defibrillator had saved his life.