by Hamel, B. B.
I shouldn’t have done that. I should’ve been smarter and waited for a better opportunity, but hearing him talk about Alex like that, and not even remembering his name—I couldn’t hold back.
And if I was being honest with myself, I had to admit that it felt good to hit Vincent like that. I’d been wanting to hurt him for so long for what happened to Alex. He deserved that and so much worse, and I wanted him to pay for it, pay for all of it, even if Alex’s death wasn’t his fault. I wanted him to remember his name at the very least.
There wasn’t anything I could do about it now. Alex was gone and the family had moved on—everyone except for me. I didn’t think I’d ever get there, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
Vincent caught me before I could reach the stairs. I heard his steps, his heavy breathing, then felt him slam into my back. I staggered, lost my balance, and slammed face-first into a wall. I gasped in surprise and pain as stars burst into my vision. I hit the floor, rolled, and lashed out, but Vincent was already on me. He grabbed my ankle and pulled me away from the stairs as I desperately tried to grab at the railing.
“You stupid bitch,” he said, his voice low and tense. “You never should’ve done that. I was willing to cut you a deal, make you rich and comfortable, and instead you had to throw it away. Over what, some dead fucking loser? Some fat fuck you used to hang out with? It’s pathetic, Cora. It’s fucking pathetic.”
I kicked him as hard as I could and landed a blow squarely on his arm. He grunted and released my ankle, but grabbed me again before I could kick more. He yanked me into the center of the hall then released me and kicked me hard in the ribs. I gasped, trying to crawl away. He kicked me again, and again, and I rolled over onto my side, sobbing from the pain, sobbing from the memory of dead Alex, wondering if I was going to join him soon.
Both of us, killed by the Leone family. He died because he loved them too much—and I’d die because I hated them.
Another kick and I curled up into a ball. I heard him curse as he grabbed my hair and pulled me to my feet. I tried to hit him, scratch him, but he punched me in the gut and dragged me along. I stumbled, almost fell, but he kept hold of my hair. I lashed out at him, but every time I got close, he’d hit me again.
He threw me back into the bedroom and stood in the doorway, panting hard, staring in at me. He was silhouetted by the hallway light, and his eyes looked black—dark, midnight deep pools of rage.
“You stupid bitch,” he said, sounding eerily calm. “If you’re lucky, I’ll make sure you die fast. Otherwise, you’ll rot in here.”
“Fuck you.” I spit at him and blood splattered the floor.
He looked at me, disgusted and angry, before slamming the door and locking it.
I stayed on the floor, crying, spitting blood, and gasping for air. At some point I managed to crawl into the bathroom and start the shower, but I never got inside. I stayed curled up on the tile with a towel wrapped over my shoulders, crying for Alex, crying for the future with Reid I knew I’d never have—and crying for myself.
21
Reid
I had Enrico and Aldrik meet me at a dive bar in South Philly that had the oldest working jukebox I’d ever seen. I got a beer and sat in the shadows toward the back, and my guys sat with their backs to the door, each of them hunched over a whiskey.
“I heard you got into it with Hedeon,” Aldrik said, frowning at me. I couldn’t tell if he was concerned for me or for himself, and I didn’t bother asking.
“Hedeon’s wrong.” I shrugged and sipped my beer. “Nothing else to do about it.”
Enrico gave me a strange look, and I tried to read into his expression—but realized whatever happened next would hinge on his reaction. If he was willing to help then I knew Aldrik would go along with him, but if he decided that ditching me was best for him then I’d be left alone and screwed.
“It’s about the girl, isn’t it?” His voice was steady and quiet.
“Yeah, it’s about the girl.”
He grunted and took a drink. “Why?”
I shook my head, mystified myself, unable to answer that question. I didn’t know why, didn’t know what it was about Cora that drove me wild—her lips maybe, her body, the long arch of her spine, the way her hips curved, or maybe the way she laughed and teased me, the way she wasn’t afraid to call me an asshole, the way she didn’t back down. I wasn’t sure, couldn’t say, and I knew he’d never understand either way.
We lapsed into silence. I took another drink and I saw the anxiety in Aldrik’s eyes. I had a feeling he knew this all hinged on Enrico too, and we were all waiting for him to hand down the sentence.
“What do you need from him?” Enrico asked after the silence stretched into agony.
“Information.”
“What kind?”
“I need to know where Cora’s being held.”
Enrico grunted and finished his drink. “I can find that out for you.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Can you?”
“I know a guy that might’ve followed the Leone family after they left your place.” He kept a straight face and talked mostly to his empty glass of whiskey. “Yeah, you know, since you had someone watching out for the girl, I might’ve been on duty at the time—and when they took her, I might’ve watched them from afar.”
Aldrik barked a laugh and punched Enrico in the arm. “You old bastard. Are you for real?”
Enrico gave him an annoyed look. “Of course I’m for real.”
“I didn’t know that. You didn’t tell me!”
“I don’t tell you everything, idiot.”
I leaned toward them, my heart beating fast. If he wasn’t lying, then I could go get Cora tonight—right now, this second, as soon as we were done talking.
“Where?” I asked.
“The mansion,” he said, and it was the one answer I didn’t want.
I sat back and let out a groan, leaned my head back up against the bench.
The mansion was the most guarded place in the entire city. There was no way I could get inside, not since the place got attacked a few years back. Now the Leones kept a small army on payroll and had the guards stacked all over the building in case anything ever happened—which it didn’t, not anymore.
“Well, shit,” Aldrik said. “You’re a goddamn tease, Enrico. You got my hopes up.” He punched Enrico again then slammed back his whiskey. “What the hell are we going to do now?”
Enrico rubbed his arm. “First of all, you’re going to stop hitting me.”
Aldrik grunted, but didn’t argue.
“And second, there are ways inside. It won’t be easy though.”
I raised an eyebrow at him. I’d never heard of anyone breaking into that building, not since I’d gotten deep into the crime world. The Leone mansion was the one spot every thief, thug, mobster, and asshole knew to stay far away from—and as much as I wanted to kick the door down and start shooting, I knew that wouldn’t get me very far.
“Elaborate,” I said.
“The mansion’s got a lot of staff,” Enrico said, studying his fingernails like he was bored. “They’ve got people coming and going through the back all the time, right? There are cooks, cleaners, deliveries, all that stuff.”
I let out a breath. “You want me to sneak in that way.”
“We’ll need a distraction, since they check everyone that comes and goes, and I’m sure you’ll be noticed. But if Aldrik here and I make a little noise out front, you know, draw some of their attention—then you might be able to slip through.”
I leaned toward him. “I don’t pay you enough.”
He laughed and his eyes were hard as he showed me his teeth. “Damn right you don’t.”
“I’m getting more whiskey,” Aldrik said. “We have some planning to do and I’m not doing it sober.”
I leaned back and watched Aldrik walk off to get another round. I could feel myself getting excited, but pushed back against it. I couldn’t go down that road, not when there were so many things stil
l up in the air. I didn’t know how we’d make a distraction big enough to draw the Leones away from the back while still letting Aldrik and Enrico get away—and I didn’t know how I’d get inside.
And once inside, I didn’t know how I’d find Cora. I’d been in there before, and the place was an enormous maze. She could be anywhere, held in any of the rooms, or maybe in some deep, specially-designed dungeon built expressly for keeping prisoners locked away. There were so many variables, all of them floating, all of them uncertain, but I saw a glimmer of hope—a small bit of possibility.
I could get my wife back, and I wasn’t going to let her go, not for anything.
For the first time in my life, I felt like something was right about Cora and me. I felt like the thing we’d been moving toward—love, or something like it—that thing could draw me away from all the nasty parts of my life, the parts that had sucked me deeper and deeper—the violence, the drugs, the extortion and worse. It wasn’t like I’d go straight for her, but maybe she could help me be a little bit less crooked, a little bit less raw.
First though, we had to plan.
And then, I’d have to put my life on the line for her, because if I got caught—they’d kill me, no questions asked.
But that was easy, because as far as I was concerned, I had no life so long as they had her.
When Aldrik returned with the drinks, I downed my first, leaned over toward my two men, and began to figure out my future.
22
Cora
I jerked awake with crusty eyes and a pain in my ribs, and for a while I stared at the ceiling, wondering if I was happy that I woke up at all. I could hear sounds in the house—distant thumps, voices, footsteps, quiet things that indicated there was life around me—but my room was dim and dark and musty. My stomach rumbled and my lips were parched, and I didn’t want to move, didn’t want to think, didn’t want to breathe.
But my body forced me up and out of bed. I sipped water from the tap, used the toilet, and gingerly poked at the bruises on my body. Large yellow and black blooms covered my flank and I grimaced as I poked at my swollen right eye. Showering helped a little bit, but not very much, and I was forced to put on my blood-stained and dirty clothes again, since nothing new had been provided for me.
As I stepped back into the room, there was a knock on the door. I heard the door unlock and a man I didn’t recognize stepped inside. He placed a tray down on top of the dresser and tossed some clothes onto the bed. I wanted to say something to him, but he studiously ignored me, pretended like I wasn’t even there, and I figured he had orders not to talk to me.
The door shut and I was alone again.
I ate toast and eggs and drank some lukewarm coffee. I changed into fresh jeans and a sweatshirt, both a little too big, but there was a belt that managed to hold the pants up. I rolled the ankles and sat at the end of the bed and stared down at the empty tray on the floor, wondering what I was going to do with myself.
Vincent was going to kill me. There was almost no doubt in my mind that sooner or later, he’d kill me. I showed him that I wasn’t going to be his pawn and I wasn’t going to play by his rules—and if I couldn’t be trusted, couldn’t be turned into a useful tool of the family, then I might as well be eliminated.
One morning I’d wake up and he’d come for me, or send men for me, and I’d disappear.
Or I wouldn’t wake up—maybe he’d poison my food, and I’d die in a puddle of my own sick.
I glanced over at the spit and bloodstains on the carpet where I’d curled up in a ball after he beat me the night before. That was only the start of it, and if I couldn’t find some way to escape, or figure out a way to make myself useful—then he’d kill me, and that stain would be everything left of me.
Half the day passed. I lingered near the window staring outside at people as they walked along living their lives in freedom. I wondered how many of them had any clue was happening around them, what sort of pain was happening in the windows above their heads, but I knew the answer to that—it was none, no clue, because people never looked out beyond their own small worlds.
Around midday I heard the door unlock again. I expected more food, but instead Dante stepped inside and shut the door softly behind him. He stared at me and I flinched away as he took a step closer, wrapping my arms around myself, afraid that Vincent had sent him to finish the job.
His face darkened. “How are you holding up?”
“Just fine,” I said, looking down at my bare feet. They’d brought me new shoes but I didn’t see the point of wearing them. “He’s treating me like a queen.”
“I’m guessing he gave you that black eye.”
“He wasn’t too happy when I turned down his offer.”
Dante sighed and rubbed at his face with a hand. He’d always been nice to me over the years, even when it wasn’t fashionable or a good thing to be kind to the awkward cousin—but no matter how gentle he’d been, or the small polite smiled he’d given me, he was still my brother’s man, through and through. It didn’t matter if he pitied me or thought Vincent was treating me poorly, he’d do what Vincent said because that was what the family demanded of him.
I’d met a thousand mafioso just like him, and they were all the same.
“I know none of this is fair,” he said, spreading his hands.
“Fair?” I barked a laugh, almost spitting it back in his face. “That’s a stupid way of putting it.” I grimaced as the pain in my side flared.
“I’ll do what I can for you, but Vincent’s pissed. What did you say to him?”
“Slapped his arrogant face and told him to fuck off.” That was mostly true, at least, and it felt damn good to do it.
He sighed and shook his head. “Come on. You know Vince, you can’t disrespect him like that. You’ve got to play the game.”
The old anger rose up again as I took a few steps toward him. “I’ve been playing the fucking game my whole life,” I said, barely controlling myself. “Alex wanted to play the game, and he ended up dead. Do you remember Alex?”
His face remained expressionless as he nodded once. “I remember him. Friend of yours. Nice guy.”
“Dead for a long time now, all because he wanted to play. I’m sick of playing and tired of all this bullshit. I want to get the hell out of here.”
“I’ll talk to Vince,” he said, backing toward the door. I saw the discomfort then, and I guessed he didn’t like seeing me this angry, didn’t like seeing a woman with this much rage in her—or maybe he didn’t like the way he looked in my eyes, how it reflected a bad image of him.
I wanted to show them all, show each and every one of them how sick and broken they were. Vince talked about controlling the city and keeping order, but without the mafia, life would be better for people. It wasn’t the mafia that was keeping the city from itself—the city needed to keep itself from the mafia.
“Go ahead, but I’ll tell you right now he won’t care. My cousin’s long gone, and you followed him over into the deep end. How much did you cost, Dante?”
That got to him. “Vince might be wrong about this, but that doesn’t mean I’ll blindly follow him.”
“Then let me go, right now. Open the door and let me walk out. Hell, give me some money and help me escape. Do the right thing.”
He shook his head. “You know I won’t.”
“I know.” I sneered at him. “Because you’re like all the others. You think you’re better, but you’re wrong.”
“Take his offer. That’ll get you out of this mess.” He put one hand on the doorknob.
“I’m not interested in his offer. I just want to go back to my life.”
“Back to your husband?”
I clenched my jaw, but nodded once. I wasn’t ashamed of how I felt. “Back to Reid.”
“I feel bad for you, Cora, and I’ll help if I can, but you should help yourself first and take Vince’s offer. And apologize to him.”
“He can apologize to me then go fuck himself
.”
A moment of anger flashed into his eyes. “You act like you’re the only one that gets beat up in this place.”
I laughed at the absurdity, and would’ve kept laughing if it didn’t hurt. “You walk around like kings.”
“I watch my friends die all the time. I kill when I need to, fight when I have to, and risk my neck for the goddamn family. You think you have it bad? You get to drift through life and all you have to do is put up with our shit.”
“You’ll never understand.”
“And you’ll never get over it if you don’t try.” He opened the door and turned to step into the hallway. “I’ll still do what I can for you, Cora.”
“Yeah, I bet you will, asshole.”
He shut the door, locked it, and left. I heard his footstep recede down the hallway.
I let out an angry scream and kicked the bed hard, then fell down to the floor gasping with pain. I gripped my foot and groaned, rolling side to side, tears in my eyes, cursing myself, cursing Vincent and Dante, and cursing the whole damn city.
Dante didn’t get it. This wasn’t about my freedom—if it were, I could learn to handle that, but this was about so much more than that. It was about dignity, being treated like a person instead of like an animal, having some small measure of control over my own existence. I couldn’t keep letting Vincent push me around, keep letting him dictate what I did.
I wanted something now. As I relaxed and lay on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, face throbbing, ribs throbbing, foot throbbing, I thought about Reid and about what he meant for me. It’d been so long since I wanted a man—since I was able to let one into my life. He represented choice and the future and everything that I thought I wanted out of life. He was a crazy choice, maybe a stupid one—but he was still a choice, one that made me feel good and one that I wanted to make, even if it was a mistake.
Dante couldn’t understand something like that and I’d never expect him to.
The day dragged past. They skipped lunch and dinner arrived an hour before the sun went down. It was pasta, jarred sauce that tasted like metal, grilled chicken, and a glass of water. I ate more because I was hungry and lightheaded than anything else.