by Nina West
“Caleb wouldn’t give a shit.” Knowing him, he’d watch. He might even join in. But I’d care. It’s one thing for Caleb to dick around on her. But those two come from a family that has murdered women simply for being married to the wrong man. “Stay far away from them, Michelle,” I warn.
“Oh, great. More mob guys?”
I glare at her.
“What? As if he doesn’t know who he works for.” She throws a hand toward Moe, dropping her voice to a dramatic whisper to add, “He could probably tell you where all the bodies are buried.”
Shit. It’ll be hard for me to play the clueless girlfriend with Lewis after this. “Gabriel is not the mob. There aren’t any bodies buried. You don’t know what you’re talking about. Now, would you please just shut up?” My heart pounds in my chest as I steal another glance at Moe, to find his gaze shifting from me, to Michelle, back to me, his expression never cracking, never hinting.
How much intel has he fed to the FBI on them?
How badly has he betrayed Gabriel and Caleb?
Will it be the Eastons who punish him or Farley and his guys?
A frown flickers over Michelle’s forehead, and I know what she’s thinking—they are basically the mob, Mercy, and we both know it. We’ve talked about it more than once. I wish I could explain so she’d at least play along and not say something that will dig me deeper into this hole.
“Okay, fine, whatever. But can we please go to the hotel club while they’re having their little ‘meeting.’” She air-quotes the word. “We can take him for protection.”
So Lewis can corner me again? No, thanks. I shake my head. “I’m not really in the mood for clubbing.” I’m not leaving this penthouse without Gabriel by my side again.
“Seriously, Mercy?” She resumes her pacing, her tone full of exasperation. “It’s bad enough I caught that asshole—”
“I warned you.”
“Fine, yes, you did! And you were right. Is that what you want to hear?” she snaps. “But can you put yourself in my shoes right now?”
“I know. I’m sorry.” I’d want to leave, too.
She bites her bottom lip. “And now I’m trapped in here.”
“In a penthouse suite,” I remind her acerbically. “And you’re not trapped—”
“Okay, fine then. You stay here. I’m going out.” She grabs her purse and marches for the door.
Moe moves fast to steps in front of it, blocking her.
She stalls, waiting a few beats for him to move. When he doesn’t, she demands, “Let me by.”
“You need to stay here.” He remains calm, unperturbed.
“You can’t make me.” She sets her chin with defiance, but the wobble in her voice betrays her confidence.
The corner of Moe’s mouth twitches as he stares her down. Not only could he make her, but something tells me he’d enjoy it.
She must sense it too—her eyes dart lower, to the gun in his hand—because she backs up a step, and then another, her throat bobbing with a hard swallow.
“We could use some drinks, Moe. Do you think you could grab us some?” I ask in as polite a tone as I can muster.
The moment drags as he stares at me. I assume his silence is the answer, until he asks, “What are you drinking?”
“Martinis. Extra dry for Michelle.”
“I don’t make martinis.” He reaches for the door. “But I can get you your vodka.”
“Gin!” Michelle croaks. “Real martinis are made with gin.”
Moe rolls his eyes but nods. With sleek movement, he’s gone downstairs, leaving Michelle and me alone.
“Mercy, what the hell is going on?” Alarm shines in Michelle’s bright green eyes. “I’m getting the weirdest vibe, ever since we left the show, and now they won’t let us leave? I’m scared.”
I have little time to explain. “Listen to me carefully. You can’t say anything about Gabriel or Caleb and their criminal stuff, okay? Not even as a joke.”
“Yeah. I picked up on that. But what’s going on?”
I hesitate. I promised Gabriel that I wouldn’t tell her anything, but I also promised I’d keep up this clueless charade, and she’s making that difficult. “We think Moe’s an FBI informant,” I whisper. “We think he’s been feeding all kinds of information to the Feds.”
Her jaw drops.
“Gabriel doesn’t want him anywhere near the Perris, which is why he’s up here, babysitting us.” He also doesn’t want us anywhere near the Perris, for reasons I’m not about to explain.
“Who are the Perris?”
“Another crime family. A really fucking horrible one. They’re rivals, but they’re forming some sort of alliance.”
She releases a breath slowly, as if trying to process this without panicking. “An alliance to buy this hotel?”
“No. Not for that business. For the other one.” I give her a pointed look.
She worries at her bottom lip as her gaze lingers on the closed door. “Why do you think he’s an informant?”
“Because he’s said and done some things….” I wave my explanation off. “Look, there’s an agent after me.”
“After you?” she squeaks.
“Yeah. She’s threatening me, trying to get me to turn on Gabriel.” I don’t have time to get into the Lewis ambushes. “And now Gabriel’s gotten word about an informant, so it makes sense.”
“So Gabriel knows there’s an informant?”
“Yeah, His person on the inside told him.”
Her eyes widen. “Like in the FBI? They have people in there?”
“Michelle, come on. Look who they are,” I chastise, but then I remind myself that she’s new to the Easton world. I’ve been living it for weeks. “They have people everywhere. They can get anything they want.”
She begins pacing again, her arms wrapped tightly around her chest. “Does Moe know that they know yet?”
“No. But I’m sure he will soon enough.”
“What are they going to do to him?”
“Take a wild guess.” My stomach twists. I don’t want this life for Gabriel. I want him away from it.
“Oh my God.” She blanches as a flurry of panicked thoughts flash through her eyes. She’s imagining the worst, and she’s horrified by it. “I have to get out of here. We have to get out of here. Do you hear yourself? Do you hear what you’re saying right now, Mercy? How can you be okay with this?”
“I’m not okay with it!” My blood begins to pulse in my ears. “This is just how things work in their world.”
“What if the FBI has something on Moe, to force him into doing this? Have you thought about that, huh? That maybe he has no other choice! Maybe they’re threatening his family!”
“Would you be quiet!” I hop off the bed and rush over to crack the door open. I can just make out the top of his cropped hair at the bar. I push the door shut. “Believe me, I get doing stupid, dangerous things for my family. Of all people, I get that better than you or anyone else.”
Michelle flinches. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
It’s my turn to pace. “That agent threatened to charge me with conspiracy to commit murder if I don’t give her what she wants.”
“Murder! For who?”
Gosh, with my exams and all that’s happened, I never had a chance to tell her. “That guy who was attacking my father in prison. He hung himself.”
“Like, legit?”
“He hung himself,” I reiterate, giving her a severe look. That is the official story, and I’ll take everything else to my grave.
She bites her bottom lip in thought. “What all is this agent telling you?”
“That she knows my father doesn’t belong in prison. She’s willing to use him as leverage to get what she wants or let him rot in there if she doesn’t. How fucked-up is that?”
“All of this is fucked-up. Has she promised you anything in return for your help?”
“Yes,” I admit reluctantly. “She said she’d get my dad out of prison.
Put us in witness protection or something.”
“That’s good, Mercy. You’re going to consider it, right?”
“I have considered it. Why do you think I’ve been so sick to my stomach all day?” I saw the pain in his eyes when he realized I’d been weighing my options. Even recalling it now twists my insides. “I can’t do that to Gabriel.”
“But it’s why you’re with him in the first place. To get your father out. Remember?”
“I know, but… not anymore.”
Her shoulders sink. “Oh my God. No, Mercy—”
“I’m falling in love with him,” I admit quietly.
“No, you’re not. You can’t be! He’s a fucking mobster! And you barely know him!” There’s a pleading tone in her voice. “No, this is some sort of sick Stockholm syndrome.”
I roll my eyes. “This is nothing like that.”
She closes the distance between us, dropping her voice. “You’re protecting a guy who would kill you if he found out that you were working with the Feds.”
“That’s the thing… I was afraid of that, but I don’t think he would hurt me.”
“Oh my God. Seriously?” She thrusts a hand toward the door, as if Moe is still standing there.
I know what point she’s making, but she’s wrong.
“I trust him. And he trusts me.” At least, I hope he still does.
“Yeah? I’ll bet they trust Moe, too. Won’t help him much soon, will it?”
“I guess not.” What possessed Moe to turn rat, anyway? What do the Feds have to hold over him that would make it worth him risking his life? They must have something. “I don’t want Gabriel to go to prison.”
“That’s where he belongs. Both of them do. They’ve had people murdered.”
“Yeah. Bad people.”
“They’re bad people! Them! The Eastons!”
My anger flares. “Uh, hi, you were just banging Caleb this morning. Have you already forgotten? I’m surprised. I would have thought he’d be more memorable, with all his experience.” Had Michelle not walked in on the bump-and-grind show, she’d be on her knees for him tonight, happily.
“Yeah, well… that’s obviously over,” she mutters.
I sigh. I knew something like this would happen, and I knew she’d take it hard, but she’s really not handling it well. Then again, she’s been off since last night. Given the dark and dangerous turn these past twenty-four hours have taken, I need to cut her some slack. “I don’t know what to say except I’m sorry I ever introduced you guys.” Even though I warned you, repeatedly. “Enjoy the rest of the trip on his dime, and then go home and never talk to him again.”
She shakes her head. “I just want to go home. Now.” She bites at her polished thumbnail—a rare sight for Michelle, who prides herself on maintaining a flawless manicure. “You’ve already been through so much because of your father. None of that was your fault. But this? Getting involved in this world? With this man? You’re choosing this.”
“You’re right. I am.” I’m choosing a life where I don’t have to struggle, where I don’t feel completely alone. In this life, I have some semblance of control, some power. But, really, I’m choosing Gabriel. “It’s not going to be like this forever. He doesn’t want to be a part of that world anymore. That’s why they’re looking at buying this hotel, so they can get away from it.”
“Or so they have another source to funnel their drug money through.” Her gold dress shimmers in the lamp light as she paces and judges, her voice laced with scorn.
My stomach pinches with her words, as they give voice to a worry that lingers deep inside. The fear that I’m a fool, buying an unlikely story because I want to believe in the twisted fairy tale.
“That’s not what they’re doing.” Because I can’t think that, in order for Gabriel and me to work. “It’s not his fault they were raised into this world.” I feel like I’m being attacked by my best friend. The urge to defend them, to make her see that they’re not so bad, overwhelms me. “Look, it’s like your father—”
She whirls around, her eyes wide. “My father is nothing like them.”
I hold my hands in the air in a sign of surrender. “Yes, I know. But you know how he’s always talking about how you’re going to take over Banks Jewelry when he retires? And how you’ve worked there every summer since high school? It’s never been a question that you and Lisa will take over.” Her older sister manages the inventory, while Michelle is skilled in the people side of things.
“Yeah.” She frowns warily. “So?”
“So, that’s how Gabriel and Caleb have been raised.”
“Except with guns, violence, drugs, and an utter lack of respect for life. Their friends died last night, and apparently it’s business as usual.”
“I’m not saying it’s right or okay, but—”
The creak outside the door is the only warning before Moe reenters, two martini glasses brimming with liquid and olives. “Farley made them.” He sets them down on the nightstand and then slides his gun from his pants and takes up his station by the door.
Michelle dives for hers and sucks half of it back in a single gulp.
Even Moe’s eyebrow rises a notch.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” she announces, setting the glass back down with a clink, her wary gaze on him. Way to play it cool. She hugs her purse to her chest as she strolls to our en suite, her hands trembling.
If she keeps this up, she’s liable to tip Moe off that something’s amiss.
What would he do if he caught on to our suspicions about him? If he knew his days, maybe even his hours, were numbered?
I eye the gun in his grip.
I know what I’d do. I’d find leverage. Something—or someone—to threaten in order to escape.
When I reach for my drink, I note how badly my own hand is shaking. I chastise myself for judging Michelle’s frazzled nerves as I take long, slow sips, my gaze on the TV screen, my mind unable to follow the plot.
“What’s taking her so long?” Moe asks suddenly.
Is she taking long? I frown. I’ve lost track of time. How long has she been in there?
He strides over to pound on the bathroom door.
A moment later it opens, and Michelle fills the doorway, scowling but still visibly rattled. “What? I’m not even allowed to pee now?”
He takes a step back, enough to let her squeeze by.
“I booked a rental car, Mercy.” She swallows. “I’m driving back to Phoenix tonight.”
I open my mouth to argue—making the drive alone through the canyon at night is a terrible idea—but then I falter. What’s the point of her staying? This trip has been a disaster since the moment we stepped out of the cars at the airport, and it’s been spiraling out of control ever since. Michelle will be miserable the rest of our time. I can’t blame her for wanting to leave. “Okay.”
“You should come with me.” It’s a last-ditch effort, and we both know it. Besides, Gabriel would lose his mind if I tried leaving, given his uncle is still out there and this agent is stalking me.
I shake my head. The crestfallen look that fills her face twists my chest.
“I’ll leave a few dresses for you in the closet. Make sure none of his skanks borrow them.” She eyes Moe warily.
“Let her go. Please.”
When he doesn’t make a move to block the door again, she walks briskly out and across the hall to her room to pack.
Moe’s penetrating gaze is on her the entire way.
16
Gabriel
Caleb flashes me a “what the fuck” look but keeps his guns trained—one on Camillo and the other on Leo. I knew he’d back me up, and with his usual Wild West speed.
“Wait until I get my hands on you.” Miles growls, glaring at me. “I’ll rip your balls off and piss down your—”
“We can talk about your weird kink later. It won’t do you or your loved ones”—Caleb waves the gun on Camillo in the air, as if a reminder—“any favors ri
ght now.”
Miles’s ugly mug splits with a grin. “You Eastons can’t count too well, can you…?” His eyes flicker behind us, to where Vince and Merrick stand, each of them with guns trained on our skulls.
I steal a glance over my shoulder. Vince’s face is as stony and unreadable as usual. I expected the move—he can’t look like he’s choosing us over his own flesh and blood—but the fucker even took his safety off to point his weapon at me. Way to commit, buddy.
Merrick, hidden behind Caleb’s broad frame, offers me nothing more than a half-baked wink. His safety’s still on, and I doubt that was an accident. They’re not going to shoot us, but they have to keep up appearances.
I’m gambling on that belief, anyway. Right now, it feels like a pretty big gamble, the tension whirling in this room choking. Farley’s heart would stop if he walked into this.
“From behind. Is that how you’re gonna do me?” Caleb has the nerve to smirk as he taunts the youngest Perri.
Merrick flicks the safety off and cocks his gun, earning Caleb’s chuckle.
You really have a death wish, brother.
If Camillo catches on to the not-so-subtle jab at his son’s sexuality, his wrinkled face doesn’t let on. “What is this little display about?” He eyes Caleb’s gun like it’s a bug needing a swat. I’m guessing a part of him wouldn’t care if Caleb pulled the trigger on him. He’s probably already got his plot picked out.
“Peter’s saying he didn’t set the bomb.”
“Yeah, because he never blows up shit,” Leo, the quiet one of the bunch, retorts.
“He loves blowing up shit,” I admit. “But he never lies about doing it. So why would he lie now?”
“You couldn’t get the truth out of him?” Miles smirks. “I overestimated you.”
I want to punch the smarmy smile off his face, made worse by the fact that my gun is still on him and he doesn’t seem to give a shit. I feel like a chump. “It was a message to my father. We haven’t been able to locate him yet.”
“So Peter, who betrayed your family once and is now in hiding, says he didn’t try to kill you to protect himself, and you believe him,” Camillo asks. “You automatically assume we are behind this?”