by V. Theia
He felt like a fool. A guilt-riddled fool.
“Hello? Giancarlo, are you there?” The sweet womanly voice constricted every muscle Capone had, to the point he found it hard to pull air through his clenched teeth before he forced himself to relax. Her voice always hit him in the same way every time.
Capone realized he hadn’t replied, too busy listening to her gentle breathing, clearing his voice he switched the phone to the ear farthest from Ellie, keeping his hand on her hip.
Such a pussy needing another woman as a buffer.
“Yeah, Luce, I’m here. Didn’t think you were answering.”
“Oh, sorry. I forgot the time and I jumped in the shower. It’s so hot today.”
Holy Mary Magdalene, don’t let me think of her in the shower.
“Things good there?”
“Oh, yeah.” She didn’t sound convincing and his brain worked tirelessly as to how he could help her without actually putting eyes on her in person. “How are you, Gi?”
Only Lucia and his brothers had ever shortened his name.
It was all the little things he remembered that sliced him like a papercut.
On his knee, the woman he almost forgot, turned her head and mouthed “Okay?” He nodded and made himself concentrate on the fingers on the back of his neck rather than wondering what Lucia was wearing after her shower and if it was so hot today in Palmetto Bay was she only in a little bikini? He must have seen her in hundreds already and yet his tongue dried up for one more glance. The way her full but little tits spilled out over the tiny cups and the butt hugging bottoms with her ass cheeks practically hanging out of the sides.
She was only small, and though it had been several years since he put eyes on her, there was no more growing for Lucia, she’d always be a shrimp.
A beautiful one at that.
“I’m good, Luce. Can’t talk long.”
He caught her sigh and guilt weighing the same as a heavy-duty vehicle punched into his sternum. Though he was embarrassed of using the same excuse, she never yelled, never complained, she’d locked herself into this guilt bubble a long time ago and now neither knew how to make it right again.
As for what Lucia thought, he’d never asked her, but Capone wouldn’t change anything about that unforgivable day, but then, that was his own sin and damnation to live with.
“You’re being safe there? I watch the news, but there’s never any mention of your gang.”
“Club, Luce, I told you before, it’s not a gang. It’s not dangerous.” He lied and Ellie snorted. He pinched her hip to stay quiet, but it must not have been quiet enough.
“Who’s there with you?”
“No one. I’m at the club. It’s noisy.” He lied again and hated himself for it. He never lied to Lucia before, now it seemed it was all he did, and he hated it. Hated how she knew it too and neither addressed it.
But some sins were worth the lie, if only to endure a weekly phone call.
“How’s things with Nicholas?”
It was a fraught question steeped in sharp anticipation since he loathed the man who’d killed all of Capone’s immediate family and only for Lucia’s safety was the man still breathing.
On his darker days, when the booze soothed all his pains, he dreamed of riding to Miami all day and through the night, breaking into the gated fortress the guy lived in with his numerous guards and stabbing Nicholas over and over in his kingly bed until the city ran red with his murderous blood.
In his darker times he didn’t even care of the trouble it would bring, or the vendettas Nicholas’ organization would swear out on Capone. It would be worth it to know he’d gotten his revenge for his papa, mama, his sister, his brothers and their children.
He couldn’t go to his grave one day without first doing that last thing for his family.
Down the line Lucia heaved a sigh and he listened to her movements. “You know daddy.” He did, that’s why he worried for her. Nicholas treated Lucia like a possession to shuffle around on his chess board. She was a commodity, not a precious daughter. The day he met a younger Lucia was when her father was using her as a bargaining chip. “I wanted to get a job in a salon, and he told me no. I’m supposed to sit around the pool and tan until I have skin cancer.”
“Luce…” the growl bubbled up out of him. Ellie looked up from her Facebook, curiosity etched on her face, but he could only look at his scuffed boots and croak. “You better be using sun cream, Lucia. I mean it.”
“Oh, quit worrying, Gi. I’m being dramatic. Daddy will have me up the aisle again before that can happen.”
His heart kicked and spluttered and about stopped dead. He didn’t know he was squeezing Ellie’s hip until he caught her whimper, he let go with an apologetic glance, but now he was seeing through fog and his guts burned.
Married again? He hadn’t even thought of it. Not after everything went down as it did, but then Nicholas didn’t think in emotions. He was dollar signs and strategic power.
But using Lucia again for his business? Fuck that piece of shit.
His voice grated as he bowed his head and asked. “Is that on the cards?”
“No, but he’s had men over at the house lately, so I’m not going to be too surprised if he presents me with a wedding gown, Gian. Daddy only knows one way and that’s his way.”
The man was a lobo. A wolf in Gucci clothing. And a fucking sly one at that.
Fuck. Fucking Mary Madonna. Pain hurt his chest in fast zips.
“Listen to me. I won’t let it get that far, sí? You trust me?”
“Always.” She breathed and Capone felt every one of the miles separating them. “Did you … did you remember Santiago’s birthday yesterday? I wanted to call you.”
“Sí.”
“What am I saying. Of course you did, sorry. I wanted to call you, Gi.” There was so much in her voice that he could hear she wanted to say and fuck in heaven, he nearly bit his tongue in half before he begged her to say it all and end this tension.
They’d fucked up and it was time to let it go.
If only he could.
Silence weighed thickly.
He called to check on her and to make sure she was okay and didn’t need anything, but the longer he sat there he knew he just wanted to listen to her.
“I should—I better let you go and do all your important biker things,” she chuckled lightly. “I wish you’d let me—”
He cut her off, unable to hear the rest of those words because he was a weak fucking man where beautiful blonde Lucia was concerned. “Let me know if there’s anything you need, Lucia.”
He felt her sigh sting his skin like bees. “Yeah, you take care, Giancarlo, and have a good week. Talk soon?”
“Yeah,” he cleared the frog away. “Sí, same time next week. Take care, mi corazón. Adiós.”
His shoulders felt fifty pounds heavier when he hung up and let his head drop over his neck. Fucking hell, it never got easier talking to her and he suspected it never would.
But now he had the added worry of her father shipping her off to the highest geriatric bidder.
“Whoa, I think I felt the sexual tension from here, big guy. Who was that, your baby mama?” Ellie chuckled and brought him back to the present, thank god. Now the call was over he lifted her easily and deposited her on the couch beside him, running two hands over his skull, he needed a drink so bad.
“No, she’s my sister in law. Or was.” He blurted.
“Damn. Really? I don’t mean to talk out of turn, but you sounded like you were in pain or wanted to like … fuck her down the phone, Capone. I nearly had an orgasm listening to your throat get all thick the way it did, it was seriously hot.”
His voice changed when he spoke to Lucia? He side-smiled at the girl, a silent gratitude for her presence.
“It’s not like that.” And for the life of him he didn’t know why he went on talking, because the only one to know it all was Gia, who he spoke to regularly as a sort of grief counseling. “Luc
ia married my younger brother and on the day of his funeral I fucked her.”
Ellie’s baby blue eyes widened, and her jaw dropped.
That day was etched so far deep into his mind and skin he could still taste her cries of pleasure as he rammed her up the bed and on the floor and in the shower until she was covered in his come and hoarse from screaming his name.
His name.
Not Santiago’s.
Fuck, the things he’d done to the sweet widow for those few hours, he should be castrated, hung and left for the vultures to peck on.
He’d never had sex like it before. Or since.
It had consumed Capone like an out of control blaze until all that was left was his ash and his guilt staining what was left of a man who had lost everything in one fell swoop.
His whole family gone, and he’d lost himself in her body.
“Holy crap, really?” Ellie exclaimed. “This is better than Days of our Lives! Tell me you’ll have a happily ever after with your sis in law? It’s kinda romantic.”
There was nothing romantic about death and betrayal.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“How many undeserving jerks do I need to run off?” - Reaper
It wasn’t the typical run of the mill meeting around their sacred church table behind the locked doors. If Reaper was one for emotional outbursts … like Snake or Arson, he would have declared it tense as fuck.
He sat in his usual seat with an olive-green skull cap pulled down over his ears, arms folded across his chest, relaxing back in the chair just listening to the voices raise their loud opinions.
The meeting was different because Rider was visibly edgy, his jaw ticking wildly. And the reason being because Mad-dog was sitting in for this one.
“It’s fuckin’ suicide, Mad-dog.” Rider spat out through his tightly clenched teeth, the intensity of his blue eyes matched the color of his father’s, but whereas Rider was pissed, it was Ajax the calmer.
Their dynamic was a strange one. Father and son and yet their lack of closeness was apparent whenever they were in the same room. They acted like enemies sometimes, especially the way they banged horns, but with any blood, it was hard to see them put themselves in danger and not do something to prevent it.
As the case may be now as they argued.
“It’s the only way.” Ajax stated.
“There’s literally a million other ways. I told you, I’m dealin’ with this.”
“He’s my fuckin’ brother, and he’s betrayed the whole family, not just you. This is my brother.” Ajax threw down his fist and rattled the table, fury in his stare. Pain too.
“Listen to me, old man. You putting yourself in his path as his confident, pretendin’ you’ve turned on me, will only bring about your death. You know it, or you wouldn’t be fuckin’ pale underneath your tan. I ain’t having your blood on my hands. Rex is a piece of shit, he’s also proven he gives no fucks for family, and that most fuckin’ definitely includes you, dog. You think he’d go easy on you once he found out you’re squeezing him for info and bringing it back to me?”
It was Ajax again who slammed his hand on the table and looked like if he had the strength he would have flipped it over. He stood quickly and paced just a few steps, huffing and cursing about it being his duty.
In this case the old man was wrong, Reaper thought. The hierarchy started and ended with Rider.
Every eye around the table was on Mad-dog, watching and waiting for what he’d do next. No doubt about it, every member would side with Rider and that was probably why Ajax was so frustrated. He was coming at this problem from a father’s perspective when it needed to be all about the club first.
“I agree with Rider.” Hawk cut in; his pale eyes unreadable.
“Of course you do, you’re—”
“I’m what? His VP? Fucking A. His friend? Right again. Your son in law? We all know what you think about that, old man, but it changes nothing about Rider being right, you’d get yourself killed and what would Annie do then? What would it do to my Gia? This isn’t some simple family squabble, this is club business, think rationally for fucking once.”
The air was taken out of Ajax’s sails and every man around the table, Reaper included, who was watching this conversation unfold, wondered if Ajax was about to throw a punch at his son in law.
Preacher caught Reaper’s eye and winked. Big dumb joker loved a show.
“Mad-dog, sit down, we haven’t finished discussing the details, you asked to sit in, and I allowed it.”
The prez had fucking spoken.
Ajax scowled, but sat.
“I’ll get a prospect to grab you a drink, what do you want?”
“I’m not a damn princess, Ambrosio.” The father hissed, scowling some more.
Rider lost all his patience. “What the fuck do you want?”
“Scotch. No rocks.”
“Jesus fuckin’ Christ. Arson, can you get one of the boys on it?”
“Sure, Prez.”
“Now let’s get this underway, shall we. The order of business is, we got word today from one of Grinder’s scouts that Rex and Grigori have both partnered with the mayor to do fuck knows what, but it ain’t line dancing. My guess is drugs, bypassing a few laws and using what pull the mayor has to keep the cops on my ass.”
The talk around that giant oak table erupted all at once at deafening levels, everyone wanting their say at once.
Everyone got the chance to input opinions. The prez listened to it all.
“What if it wasn’t Ajax who sided with Rex, but someone else who he might trust his confidence with, someone from the club who he thinks has turned on Rider?” Reaper’s voice carried all through the church and everyone hushed as a collective group.
Rider’s gaze came at him.
“Who?”
“I can think of only one who would fit the bill, Prez.”
Palpable. The air stirred though there were no windows in that room to bring in the breeze. Everyone felt it as they listened as Reaper laid it out.
Reaper watched Rider drumming his fingers on the table, then glanced at his father, who was pensive but otherwise wasn’t chiming in.
Which was either a good thing or a very bad thing, Reaper couldn’t tell which.
Conversations between Rider and Hawk began with their heads leaned in together. Reaper might have watched their discussion unfold had his phone not vibrated in his pocket. Ordinarily he would have left it for later. It was either his brother calling, but the time difference was all wrong or it was one of the guys from the gambling dens needing something again and those dumbasses could wait for him to wipe their noses.
He fished it out anyway and nearly popped a boner seeing Paige’s name on the screen. She never called him, god, he always wanted her to so he could listen to her voice like a dirty bastard.
Turning around on the chair, giving the room his back he pressed answer.
“Paige?”
“Oh, hey, Reaper, you answered! I wasn’t sure if you were busy or not, thanks.” She mumbled and immediately he was on alert because her voice was nervous.
He knew every nuance of her voice. Happy. Sad. Mad, upset, and furious. Though that last one hardly ever happened.
Something was wrong with his girl and in less than a second, Reaper checked out of anything club related and his priority roared to life in his chest.
His heart honestly didn’t give a crap if the boys were listening in.
“Talk to me, Paige.”
“Okay, well. There’s a little situation, I wondered if you’d use your scary biker face for me, you know the one that makes people get out of your way. I think it’s cute, but others, you know. Anyone, jeez Louise, I’m rambling. I don’t have long, I’m in the restroom.” His growl made her go on. “It’s nothing really, but just in case. I’m at Lohes.” A restaurant in town. A fancy fucking restaurant people went to on dates. Reaper closed his eyes and counted to a million or tried to. His fury burst through and took over.
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“I’m with a guy. He’s a teacher, and it was going fine.” It was going fine. The words scraped the inside of Reaper’s skull, jealousy so acute he couldn’t even fucking swallow. “He’s being a little jackassery, drinking too much and saying…stuff. I’d rather not walk out of here in case he follows me, Reaper, I stupidly parked a block away to save on paying for the meter.”
Reaper had been through moments in his life where his heart stopped working. He’d felt dread and grief and pain so damn hard he thought he might die from it. He’d worried and experienced rage and fury course through his veins until he’d done something despicable and taken a life with his bare hands.
He could add feeling hopeless to that long list because though she tried to laugh it off by adding “I’m probably acting stupid, huh?” He heard her fear, clear as the fucking clanging in his ears.
“Stay there, I’ll be a few minutes.” He hung up.
Reaper popped to his feet so fast everyone turned his way with varying stages of curiosity and perplexing looks.
His blood was ice.
Fingers shaking.
Heart unsure if it was still beating and he felt violently sick.
“Boss, I need to go.” He looked down the long table at Rider. The only man who knew the reason why Reaper would look like he’d swallowed cat sick.
“You need anythin’?” The prez asked and Reaper shook his head, “okay, go, brother.”
He was gone in seconds, out of the church, through the club and found his bike parked up with the others.
He might not admit it to anyone but himself, but Paige was his girl.
And he’d fight all her battles until there was no one left to ever hurt her.
The wheels on his bike screeched as he roared off at neck breaking speeds.
* * *
“What’s the ghost’s problem?” Arson inquired once they’d all watched Reaper exit the church, almost yanking the locked door off its hinges.
Rider knew the answer, he’d always known, but that was Reaper’s private business and had nothing to do with the club unless Reaper himself shared it.