by Hamel, B. B.
“What do you want to make this stop?” Santos asked. “Not just this little spat between our organizations, but this alliance with the Russians.”
“Nothing,” Vince said. “There’s nothing you could possibly offer me to make me want to bend over and take it from you.”
Santos turned his head toward Vince and I saw the confusion plain in his expression.
“Then why are you here?” he asked. “I thought this was a negotiation.”
Vince gave him a wicked smile, all blood and teeth and rage.
“No,” he said. “I’m here to tell you to your face that I’m going to gut you, gut your men, and rip your organization up by the roots. You never should have stepped to me, Santos. And now I’m going to burn you out like the rat you are.”
Vince stood abruptly and Santos stared up at him, his face screwed up in confusion. I walked toward them and joined Vince a few feet from the bench. Santos stayed seated and reached his hands out, palms up, like he was trying to implore us to stay.
“You’re making a mistake,” Santos said. “We can negotiate. Come up with a deal that benefits all of us. We’re businessmen.”
“We could’ve done that before you started shooting,” Vince said. “Now, you can go fuck yourself.”
“So it’s war then?” Santos asked.
“It’s war,” Vince said and walked off.
I hurried to keep up with him, my heart racing. He walked through the crowd with his head held high, his eyes hard and looking into the distance. I got close to him, grabbed his arm, tugged him back.
He slowed and looked down at me.
I bit my lip, heart racing.
“That wasn’t what Steven and Dante wanted,” I said.
“No,” he said. “It’s definitely not.”
“So why?” I asked. “You didn’t even try to hear him out.”
“I want him to make a move,” Vince said. “I’m not going to let this drag out. I want him to make a move, and when he does, I’m going to hit him so hard, so fast, he won’t ever be able to recover.”
I chewed my lip but he kept walking again, forcing me to hurry to catch up. I didn’t know if he was right, or if he’d lost his mind, but I wanted to be close to him. I wanted to touch him, feel him, lose myself in him.
God, it was the danger that got me. And Vince was danger, all of him wild.
22
Vince
We drove back to my place and my heart hammered the whole way back. I kept thinking about Santos, that snake face, those rat eyes. That bastard didn’t care if I wanted war, even if he pretended like he didn’t want things to go that way.
I knew it the second I sat down. He was there for the same reason I was.
We were feeling each other out.
Two boxers circling each other in the ring.
And I needed him to punch first.
I felt riled up and angry. I found a spot on my street, opposite the house. I parallel parked then turned to Mona. She looked at me with those big eyes, those pretty lips, and I reached out to her. She smiled a little, coy and incredible, leaning closer to me.
“I have a lot of calls to make,” I said. “After what happened at the park, I’ll need to warn the others.”
“You don’t want to go inside yet, do you?”
“Once I do, it’s work time,” I said.
He tilted her head. “So let’s stay here for a few minutes,” she said.
I nodded and reached out, pulling her closer. I kissed her lips, gently at first, but she returned my kiss with a surprising hunger.
I let my tongue roll against hers as I gripped her hair. She moved closer, halfway across the seats. I wanted to rip her top off, feel her breasts, tease her nipples, then sink my cock so far inside her tight little pussy that she never stopped feeling me.
She made a little moan as I bit her lip then kissed her neck. She reached out and fumbled at my belt, taking it off.
“You liked being there today, didn’t you?” I asked.
“Yeah, I did,” she said.
“You liked going to that meeting, speaking up. You liked speaking up with my father, too.”
“I did,” she said again as she took my belt off and worked on the button and fly of my slacks.
I grabbed her hair and looked into her eyes. “I think you like this,” I said. “At first, it was all about the article. But it’s a lot more than that now.”
“I want to say you’re wrong,” she whispered. “But I can’t.”
She yanked my slacks forward, slid her hand down my pants, and found my half-hard cock. She worked it, massaging my shaft, stroking me as I kissed her. I groaned my pleasure and she managed to pull me through the slit in my boxer briefs. She took my cock in both hands, leaning over the center console, and stroked me up and down.
I took her hair and pushed her down. She opened her mouth and took my cock into her mouth. I leaned my head back and groaned as she sucked me, her head moving up and down next to the steering wheel. An old lady with her little white dog walked past the car, but didn’t seem to notice my cock down Mona’s throat.
I growled in pleasure and pushed Mona down deep. She bobbed up and down faster, lips sucking hard, tongue rolling around my tip. Pleasure flooded me, hot fire mixed with need.
“Fuck, girl,” I said. “You drive me wild, you know that? You want this as bad as I do, want to fuck things up, want to burn the world to ashes. You just went about it a different way.”
She pulled back with a gasp, stroking me fast and hard. I pulled her to my lips, kissed her, tasted my cock on her lips. I loved her in that moment, loved her more than I thought I ever could.
She went back down, opened her mouth, slid me deep into her throat. She gagged, moaned, kept sucking. I pushed her down, fucked her mouth, pleasure blooming all through me.
I never pictured her as the type to suck my cock right in the middle of the street. But fucking hell, I loved it. Goddamn, I loved it. This girl, she was wild, she was so much more than she appeared, and I wanted her, all of her. I wanted to take her and bring her into my world and keep her. No more bullshit, no more article, no more journalist.
I wanted her to be mine.
I groaned and said her name. She sucked faster, harder. I pushed her down as I came in her mouth, down into her pretty throat. She worked me, swallowed me, licked me clean from top to bottom. I leaned my head back with a sigh of total pleasure and relief as she came up, licking her lips.
I pulled her against me and kissed her.
“How was that?” she asked.
“That was perfect,” I said, kissing her again.
Then the world went insane as a huge boom blasted from the outside and the windows shattered.
Mona screamed as I cursed and covered her with my body.
Glass sparkled everywhere, cut my face and hands.
The boom left my ears ringing and every single car on the block went wild, their car alarms blaring, the windows all blown out. I shoved my cock away, got my pants fastened, as Mona sat back in her seat, her eyes wide and crazed, staring at something over my shoulder.
“Are you okay?” I shouted, my ears still ringing.
“I’m okay,” she said. “But Vince— Look.”
I turned around and my jaw dropped open, my tongue lolling to the side.
My house was on fire.
The door was blown off the hinges, the windows smashed and shattered. The facade cracked down the center, and flames spouted from the roof. It took me a few seconds to realize what had happened.
A bomb went off inside my house.
A fucking bomb inside of my house.
“Jalisco,” I said. “Fucking fuck. That fire…” I trailed off and grabbed my phone, dialing 911.
I got emergency services, told them to send a fire truck, gave the operator my address, and hung up. I got out of the car, looking around wildly. I didn’t see anyone suspicious, just scared, confused neighbors as they spilled from the surrounding houses. Mona came to me, stagge
red over broken glass, and I pulled her tight against my body.
This was it. This was the move.
If we hadn’t paused in that car… if she hadn’t sucked me off…
We’d both be dead.
“Fuck,” I said.
“We should go,” she said. “Warn the others. You have to call them, warn them.”
“Yeah,” I said as she took my hand. She tugged me away from the house, away from the scene as more people gathered to watch the flames lick from the windows.
Sirens blared in the distance as we staggered away, Mona in the lead.
The war was on now, there was no doubt in my mind. Dante and Steven couldn’t ignore that, even if they still wanted to.
The Jalisco made sure there was no going back.
23
Mona
I stared at a plastic bottle of water as condensation rolled down its side. I reached out, unscrewed the top, screwed it back on. The green felt on the poker table was stained darker, and I placed the bottle back exactly where it had been, adjusting it so the dark ring fit just right beneath the bottom.
“Where the fuck is he?” Vince said, his voice a gravelly growl. “He said he’d be gone for five minutes an hour ago.”
I picked up the water again, took off the top, put it back on. “I don’t know,” I said. “Are your ears still ringing?”
He looked at me and worked his jaw. “Yeah,” he said. “I think they’ll probably ring for a few days.”
“Oh,” I said, knocking my head sideways like I was trying to get water from my ear. But the ringing just kept on going.
Vince strode out from behind his father’s desk. We were sequestered in his father’s study, beneath the high ceilings, with the leather-bound books, the oversized desk, the trappings of wealth and power. Everything about the room screamed aristocracy and money beyond my wildest dreams, but all I could do was take off the bottle cap, screw it back on, and stare at the damp dark ring in the green card table felt.
He knelt down next to me and tilted my chin up. His eyes met mine, and I expected to see rage. He’d been so angry since we got to his father’s house and began making calls. He’d yelled and smashed a chair, the wreckage of it still lying on the floor next to the windows, the wood twisted and snapped like the wood that burst from his house just a couple hours earlier.
Instead of anger in his expression, I saw only concern.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I said.
He opened his mouth and shut it again. He pulled me against him, kissed my head, kissed my cheek. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I never expected them to do something like that.”
“But you did,” I said. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”
He paused and clenched his jaw. “Not like that.”
“Maybe not exactly like that, but you’ll get what you wanted now,” I said.
He took a deep breath and moved away from me. He stood, paced toward the broken chair, kicked it.
“You’re right,” he said. “I wanted something like this. I wanted them to prove that they can’t be trusted, and they came through for me.”
“What’s going to happen now?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I called everyone, they all know what happened, but I don’t know what we’re going to do about it.”
“They can’t just let this go, can they?” I asked.
“Of course not,” he said. “Even if they all want to, the fucking cowards. They blew up my house, maybe burned down a whole city block. We can’t let this go.”
I nodded slowly, took off the bottle cap, put it back on. “Yeah, you’re right.”
“You don’t have to stay here if you don’t want to,” he said.
“I think I do,” I said. “That man saw me, saw my face. He knows me.”
Vince shook his head. “There are places we can send you outside of the city, outside of the state. I could send you up north to my people in New York, you’d be safe there. The Jalisco have no strength in New York.”
“I want to stay,” I said. “This is my home.”
“It’s dangerous now,” he said. “It’s going to be a war zone.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
He looked at me for a long moment, standing next to the shattered wooden chair, its green leather back lying in tatters a few feet away.
“Explain how that would work,” he said.
“You need to hit them hard,” I said. “You need to do something that’ll make sure they can’t hit back.”
“This isn’t the movies,” he said. “That’s not such a simple thing.”
“But why not?” I asked, shifted in my seat, took off the top and screwed it back on. “You know where they stay, don’t you?”
“I think so,” he said, nodding slowly, his face hard. “But that doesn’t mean much. After blowing up a house, they’re probably in hiding, or at the very least they’re ready for reprisals.”
“Hit them hard and fast,” I said. “Go in with everyone you have, everyone in your group and everyone with the Russians. Bring whoever else you can find, all the little gangs and stuff. Hit them with overwhelming force.”
He barked a laugh. “Shock and awe.”
“Right, shock and awe. Roll over them before they know what’s happening.”
He grinned at me, a surprised smile that seemed to make the room feel a little bit lighter.
“Since when did you become such a war hawk?” he asked.
“Since I learned that it’s necessary,” I said, working my jaw, unscrewing the top, screwing it back on. “They blew up a house, almost killed us. If I hadn’t been—”
The door to the office flung open before I could finish that sentence. Don Leone strode in, his fake shuffling limp all but forgotten, followed by a man I didn’t recognize. I looked over at Vince, and he stood up straighter, surprise clear in his expression.
“Vince,” Don Leone said. “Thank you for waiting.”
“What’s he doing here?” Vince asked.
The man was older, wrinkled, and very thin. He had a square chin and a trim gray beard. His plaid sweater hung a size too big over baggy denim and old brown work boots with deep grooves worn into the leather.
“Is that how you greet a power man, Vincent?” the man said with a heavy Russian accent.
“That’s how I greet you, Maksim,” Vince said.
Understanding hit me. That was Maksim, the head of the Russian mafia. My mouth hung open, but the men didn’t seem to notice me. I took off the bottle cap, screwed it back on.
“I know bad thing just happen to you,” Maksim said, “and so I will let that slide. But careful now, boy.”
“Enough, Vince,” Don Leone said. “We need to talk about what we’re doing next.”
“There’s only one thing we can do,” Vince said. “We have to kill every single Jalisco we can find and send a message to those goddamn bastards.”
Don Leone walked behind his desk and sat with a grunt. He stared at them, frowning a deep grooved glare.
“And what do you think, Maksim?” Don Leone asked.
Maksim gestured toward Vince with his chin. “Boy has a point,” he said.
“Call me boy one more time—” Vince started, but his father held up a hand.
“Enough,” Don Leone said. “Maksim, show my son some respect. Vince, you need to cool down.”
Vince grunted and paced along the window. “We’ve been a step behind the Jalisco this whole time,” he said. “Everything we’ve done has been in reaction. It’s time to do something of our own.”
“Yes, perhaps,” Maksim said. “Make move on them, show Jalisco they cannot push us around.”
“There’s no us yet,” Vince said.
Don Leone rubbed his head with both hands like he was trying to wake himself up. “That’s why we’re here, Vincent,” he said. “I want to change that right now.”
Vince stopped pacing. “You want to do�
� what?”
“We come to make deal, Vince,” Maksim said. “Your father and me, we come to agreement. Time to make official, yes?”
Vince gaped at them for a moment then seemed to gather himself. “You’re going through with this alliance right now?” he asked. “Right this minute?”
“That’s the plan,” Don Leone said. “Do you object to it?”
Vince opened his mouth then shut it again. He looked over at me, and I leaned back in the chair. I unscrewed the cap and lifted the bottle to my lips. I took a long drink before screwing it back on and putting it down on the table without looking at the felt.
I shook my head, just a little bit. Vince’s face went hard and he closed his eyes before looking at Maksim.
“No, I don’t object,” he said.
“Good, very good,” Maksim said. “That is very good. So we make official now, yes? How do you Italians like to close deal?”
“Simple,” Don Leone said and opened a desk drawer. He gripped something and pulled it out.
I sat forward and stared at the long, sharp-looking knife he placed down on his desk. The handle was ornate, gold with scrolling carvings all along it, and the blade was straight and double-edged.
“What do we do with that?” Maksim asked.
“Blood to blood,” Don Leone said. “It’s very simple. We mingle our blood and sweat to uphold the terms of our agreement. Can you handle that, Maksim?”
“I can handle blood,” he said. “I handle blood all day. Blood never bothers me.”
“Good.” Don Leone stood, gripped the knife, came around the desk.
I thought I saw a moment of indecision in Maksim’s eyes, but it went away as Don Leone gripped the blade of the knife and yanked it down. He cursed as blood welled up in his palm from a long cut down the center.
Don Leone held the knife out to Maksim.
“Dramatic,” Maksim said, but took the blade, gripped it, and yanked. He cursed in Russian as Vince came over and took the knife away.
“We bond ourselves, Maksim,” Don Leone said. “My blood to your blood. If you break this bond, may your blood run cold, maybe it dry up and thicken in your chest and heart.”