Booze and Bullets (Brooklyn Brothers #3)

by Melanie Munton

  “Wait, Nic—”

  I hung up.

  Time to go have a little chat with my wife.

  Our cold dinner sat untouched on the table in front of me. Rising nausea had prevented me from eating mine. I’d heard that some women can’t even stand the smell of red meat while pregnant, and it looked like I was one of them.

  Nico had been in his office for a while, which had given me more time to muster up the courage to bring up my…condition. Initially, my plan had been to just blurt it out ten seconds after he walked through the door. Ripping off the Band-Aid and all that.

  But then I’d seen the dark look in his eyes. The one that promised some rigorous rutting and multiple O’s. I’d been helpless after that.

  I glanced up from my plate and jolted.

  Nico leaned against the door frame to the dining room, watching me with cold eyes and blown pupils. His hair was fucked to Sunday and back, haphazardly hanging out of his bun. He seemed to be considering something as his tongue slid along his teeth. I hadn’t even heard him leave his office, let alone enter the room.

  Did pregnancy affect your hearing, too? I needed Val’s number on speed dial for all the questions I was going to have.

  “Hi.” I waved down at his plate. “I can go heat yours up for you.”

  He said nothing. Just kept staring.

  I cautiously met his eyes, growing uneasy. “Everything okay? Who was on the phone?”

  Still nothing. Just unnerving silence.

  Then, “You’re good, you know.”

  I had never heard that voice before. It was like another person had moved inside his body and was claiming residency.

  I licked my dry lips. “What do you mean?”

  He tilted his head to the side, expression one of calculation. “I used to think that no one could read women better than I could. Not necessarily their emotions, so much as their behavior in general. I could tell when they were annoyed, or being caddy, sarcastic, evasive, deceptive, or feigning passion. I thought I could always sniff out liars.”

  “Nico, what are you talking about?”

  He slowly shook his head. “But you slipped past my radar somehow. I admit your looks distracted me a lot. I couldn’t always think rationally when you got me good and pissed off and had the nerve to look sexy while doing it. And after we started fucking, well, I’m sure there were tons of signs that went right over my head.”

  I carefully rose to my feet, my heartbeat taking off at a sprint. But his expression warned me to stay right where I was. Don’t even think of approaching me, legs, was written all over his face.

  “I don’t understand. You’re not making any sense.”

  His gaze held mine prisoner as he crossed the room with a leisurely stride. He slid his phone across the wooden table until it bumped against my hand. Too afraid to ask the questions assaulting my mind, I picked up the device and hit play on the video that was already uploaded on the screen.

  I nearly dropped it.

  It was some kind of security camera footage that was recording on the opposite side of the street from Val and Enzo’s house. Right there, in the center of the screen, was my face.

  And Dimitri’s.

  My ragged breaths became horridly loud in my ears as I watched the two of us talk in the alley. Then it switched to another video, this one of us speaking on the sidewalk, right outside the drugstore. Earlier today.

  I placed the phone facedown on the table, like a cursed object. “Okay, I know how this looks. But you have to believe me when I say, it’s not what you think.”

  I hated how clichéd those words sounded, but I didn’t know how else to phrase it.

  Nico continued like I hadn’t even spoken. “Was I your first mark?” His snide, hateful voice crawled over my skin. “I’d find that hard to believe. You played your part too much like a pro. No, I’m thinking you’ve done this many times. How does the scheme go exactly? You hook up with a guy, get close to him, and report back to your father with all of his secrets? Maybe swindle him out of some money while you’re at it?”

  “What?” I shook my head. “I’m not following.”

  What the bloody hell was he accusing me of?

  “How much is Raphael paying you three?” He crossed his arms over his chest and glowered. “I mean, other than the ten million for the prison break.”

  Trying to find my way through the ragged weeds of whatever backwards information he’d been told was proving difficult. He was weaving a tapestry of absurd accusations, and I was struggling mightily to unravel it.

  “Are you saying you think my father and I have been running some sort of scam on you?”

  “Don’t forget your boyfriend Dimitri. And I don’t think anything when the evidence is right in front of me.” His eyes flicked down to the phone before lifting back up to mine. “You did tell me you would do anything for Sergei, didn’t you? I guess I should have heard that for what it was…a warning.”

  “Nico, I haven’t spoken to my father since the day we left Russia.” I kept my tone placating without sounding patronizing. “When he goes into spyachka, I know not to attempt to contact him. He always comes for me when it’s safe again.”

  His eyes narrowed to slits. “Why would you need to contact him when he’s been keeping in touch with you this entire time through his little lackey?”

  I sucked in a steadying breath. “Listen, Dimitri showed up out of the blue one day, saying my father had asked him to watch over me while I was in the States. I had no idea he was going to be here—my father never said a word about it. I know I should have told you—”

  “Then why did Raphael Esposito pay your father to help him break out of prison?” he shouted. “Huh? Tell me that.”

  My jaw dropped. “That’s not true. My father would never team up with the New York Firm. He despises them.”

  Nico snorted, the sound dripping with derision. “Is that what he coached you to say? You know, I think you missed your calling. That clueless routine has been pretty convincing. You should have ditched the modeling and gone straight into acting. You’d have made a fortune.”

  Panic was rising in my chest. “I don’t know anything about Raphael’s escape, but I swear to you that my father would never help him. And I didn’t tell you about Dimitri because I knew you didn’t trust him. He doesn’t trust you either. He was only following my father’s orders by looking after my safety until the situation in Russia is resolved.”

  If possible, Nico’s face became mottled with even more fury. “I’m sure that’s not the only thing he’s been looking after.”

  He stepped toward me.

  I immediately backed up. He’d never looked at me like that before. Like I was some kind of soulless she-demon.

  “Are you fucking him, Lexi?”

  That brought me up short as a surge of outrage fueled my blood. “No! I told you, there’s never been anything between me and Dimitri.”

  Another step toward me. “Why did Raphael’s money go into an offshore account that was under an alias your father has been known to use? Tell. Me. Why.”

  “I don’t know! My father has never involved me in syndicate business. But Sergei Kozlov would never accept money from any member of the New York families. That much I do know. Whatever you’re accusing him of, you’re wrong.”

  Nico’s arms fell to his sides as he began to stalk me around the room. Uncertain of what he would do in this mood, I made sure to keep some piece of furniture between our bodies. A chair, the table, the couch.

  “Then why have you been snooping into my business?” he demanded. “You said you saw documents on my desk. And you’ve asked a lot of questions about shit that doesn’t concern you.”

  “I was curious about you!” I fought to keep my voice steady, but it still broke. “I was forced to marry a man I didn’t know so, yeah, I was asking questions. I didn’t want to live with a complete stranger for weeks on end.”

  Though I was beginning to think that’s exactly what had hap
pened.

  I didn’t know this Nico.

  He wasn’t the same guy who’d stroked my hair after I’d had a nightmare. Who’d laughed at my answers to Battle of the Sexes. He wasn’t even the same guy who’d waltzed into the kitchen earlier with wicked intent in his eyes.

  “If you want me to believe you, then tell me what the two of you talked about outside the drugstore today.”

  That probably won’t help the situation.

  But he asked for the truth.

  “He tried to tell me that you and your family aren’t who you say you are. That you want to replace the D’Angelo family in the organization and re-establish all your mafia connections.”

  His nostrils flared. “And what did you say to that? If I’m to believe that’s true.”

  “I told him there was no way that would ever happen.” My voice was full of conviction. “I didn’t believe it for a second.”

  He looked skeptical. “And why is that, Lexi?”

  “The families have tried taking too much from yours. The Rossettis would never re-join the New York ranks. All of you have too much honor and principle for that.”

  He actually seemed to consider that answer for a moment.

  A very fleeting moment.

  “You’re lying,” he spat, his face twisting once again. “You’ve been lying to me from the beginning. And I’m done being toyed with. I don’t know what the fuck you told them about me and my family, but you’re done here. Sorry, legs, you failed.”

  “You’re not listening to me!” I screamed, on the verge of hysteria. “We have to find out what’s going on here. Someone is trying to set up my father. He could be in danger. We need to find Dimitri—”

  Nico’s laughter grated with hatred. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m going to get ahold of Dimitri.”

  I frowned. “You are?”

  He swiped his phone off the table, his thumb scrolling over the screen. “Of course. Someone has to tell him that you failed at your mission and deliver you back to your father. I’m certainly not dragging my ass back to Mother Russia to do it.”

  My stomach sank into my toes. “You’re…kicking me out?”

  He averted his eyes, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “Enough with the kicked puppy act. I’ll have the annulment papers drawn up and sent to you. But tell Sergei I’ll still expect remittance of payment. Whatever shit he’s been working behind the scenes is an abstract to the contract he and I signed. I’m returning you safely to him, so I want his other half of shares in Kozlov Industries. Then we’re done.”

  I swallowed thickly against the threatening tears. “That’s it?” I waved to his phone. “You believe whatever your eyes tell you and wash your hands of me?”

  “What the hell am I supposed to believe, Alexia?” he snarled. “The eyes never lie.”

  “How about instead of believing what you see, you believe what you feel? Do you honestly think after everything that’s happened between us I would betray you?”

  If it was that easy for him to believe such lies about me, then I’d read our entire situation horribly wrong. He couldn’t have been feeling what I’d been feeling. All this time, I thought we’d been heading toward a future together.

  But nothing awaited me at the end of this road except a giant dead end.

  How could I be so stupid?

  A brief hesitation. “Don’t cloud the issue with bullshit emotions. This never stopped being a fake marriage. Let’s not kid ourselves. Just because we got along for a few days doesn’t mean anything except that we learned how to tolerate each other.”

  I felt…wounded. Probably looked it, too.

  “It’s that easy for you to discard me?” I whispered shakily. “Pretend like nothing ever happened? Just like that?”

  He snapped his fingers. “Like it never was. You forget, I’m a hobbyist at this. Women are nothing more than repositories to me.”

  He might as well have taken one of his prized daggers and driven it straight through my heart. It would have hurt less.

  “And if I was your first mark, which again, I highly doubt,” he said, shoving his face into mine, “let me give you some free advice. Don’t ever get emotionally involved with your mark. That’s an occupational hazard.”

  My lower lip quivered. “So, I was just a notch on a bedpost to you? No different than all the rest?”

  His lips thinned. “You may have lasted longer than anyone else, but your pussy took my cum just like all the others. If I hadn’t made this deal with your father, you wouldn’t have lasted beyond the first night you put my cock in your mouth.”

  My hand cracked against his cheek.

  My palm stung from the slap, but he didn’t even flinch, the son of a bitch.

  “Idi k chertu,” I whispered. Go to hell.

  He hissed back, “Ya uzhe tam.” I’m already there.

  He backed away, holding his arms out to the sides. His once beautiful amber eyes were devoid of life. “Take a long, hard look. This is what a walking corpse looks like. How many men have you left rotting in your wake, Alexia? How many have you condemned with your lies and deceit? How many have you pulled in with those ocean blue eyes before they eventually drowned in their depths? Huh?” He was shouting now. “How. Many!”

  Thank God he’d managed to anger me enough to push my pain to the back burner. I wouldn’t have been able to respond otherwise. Wouldn’t have been able to pry my feet off the floor to even move if he hadn’t pushed this button.

  With a raised eyebrow, I shut down all emotions on my face except for contempt. My eyes crawled over him with disgust, sending me back to the very beginning of our relationship. We’d come full circle, it would seem.

  “Just one,” I answered. “But you can’t condemn those who are beyond redeeming.” I met his eyes. “And this one wasn’t even worth trying to save.”

  His lips parted. I thought I might have glimpsed hurt—maybe even shame—flash across his face as I delivered my final blow.

  And I truly hoped it did hurt. Because he had inflicted more pain with his words than I would have ever thought possible. I wanted to say it was only because I was pregnant that made the sting of his rejection that much sharper. But deep down, I knew my heart would have felt trampled on by a herd of elephants even if there was no baby.

  Because I’d already fallen in love with him before I’d taken that test.

  Wanting those words to be the last ones echoing in his ears, I left the room and marched up the stairs to my bedroom with business-like steps. I had more important things to concern myself with than whatever bullshit lies had poisoned his mind. I had life growing inside of me now that I needed to care for.

  This baby would come first.

  And I wasn’t going to wait for Nico to drag the two of us out of his home and kick us to the curb like garbage. I was going to walk right out that door of my own volition and never look back. I may not have had much of a choice when I entered into this marriage. But so help me God, I would leave it on my own steam.

  I was pulling my suitcase down the driveway and through the gate twenty minutes later. I didn’t see Nico on my way out and didn’t care where he’d gone. Probably to his booze bunker to sulk in his own imaginary self-pity.

  The taxi cab was already waiting for me on the curb. As the driver placed my luggage into the trunk for me, I opened the back door and looked up at the mansion I had called home for seven weeks.

  “Do svidaniya, mudak,” I murmured to myself. Farewell, asshole.

  When I got into the cab, I did it with my middle finger pointed at the security camera in the corner of the gate.

  Oh, and by the way, I’m pregnant with your child.

  I may have been carrying the fruit of Nico’s loins inside my womb, but he didn’t deserve to know about it. I would do this on my own. I didn’t want or need his toxicity in mine or our child’s life.

  I waited until I was closed inside the back of that cab to release the torrent of tears. No one had to know I was sobbing like a ba
by. I didn’t have to be as brave whenever I was alone like this.

  And I feel so very alone.

  Once the crying started, though, I thought it would ever end.

  Blanton’s. Kavalan Single Malt. The Macallan Eighteen-year-old Sherry Oak. Glenfarclas Single Malt. Jefferson’s Seventeen-year-old Presidential Select.

  So many names to choose from.

  So many bottles to drown myself in.

  But this was about punishing myself for my stupidity. For my naiveite.

  So, I grabbed The Balvenie Fifty-year-old Single Malt Scotch Whiskey that I’d dropped forty-one thousand dollars on, ripped the motherfucking seal off, and threw it to the floor. Tipping my head back, I committed the ultimate sin and drank straight from the bottle.

  What I’d paid for it, what I was saving it for, didn’t matter a good goddamn anymore. In the end, it was just alcohol. It went down the same way, it went to the same place. And it only had one job to do.

  Make me fucking forget.

  Forget that I’d fallen in love with a liar.

  That the only person I’d ever opened myself up to in my life had taken my heart in her delicate hands and choked the very life out of it.

  I fell into the leather armchair in front of the flickering fire—the same chair I’d sat in when Lexi’s mouth rode my dick like a sinful dream—phone in one hand, bottle in the other. Lifting the device to my ear and the bottle to my mouth, I drank in long pulls as the dial tone on the number Sergei left me echoed over the line.

  No answer.

  Voicemail picked up. I was sure the line was secure, but on the off chance it wasn’t, I kept my message as vague as possible. Although, I think I managed to get my point across with my arctic tone.

  “Your package is ready for pickup. Personal delivery will cost extra, and I’ll expect one hell of a compensation for the inconvenience. And if you don’t want me to feed information about your recent business ventures to the wrong people, I’d suggest paying me double what I’m owed for all my troubles.”

  I hung up, barely stifling a wince at my cold words.