by Fiona Murphy
He’s yelling so loudly he doesn’t hear Vincent enter the stairwell behind him. Keeping my face bland isn’t easy when I want to break every bone in his body. Except I can’t lose it. If I do, he’ll hurt her. “You didn’t miss much. No blood, no pain. I wondered if she was really a virgin. She swears she was, who knows? Maybe she lied.”
Taylor yanks her head back; for a split second the gun isn’t pressed against her head. “Were you lying, bitch?”
The fear in Regina’s eyes, the whimpers escaping her yanks me into movement against my damn will. He catches me moving. His grip on her loosens as he points the gun at me. Thank fuck, that gun is wobbling from how damn tight his grip is on it, he’s probably on two or three different drugs to stay standing. I let my eyes go big at the gun as if it’s my whole focus even though it’s right where I want it to be.
“No, you don’t. You wear a piece on your ankle, Benny told me that. Benny told me a lot of things about you, Dom the bomb. He was scared of you, so scared he was going to kill me to keep me from coming after Regina. Can you believe that fucker was going to kill me? He didn’t think I had it in me to kill him. But I did,” he’s proud of himself. His grin is freakishly wide, I’ve seen the look before. Now that he’s killed, he can’t wait to kill again. “I’ll kill you too, if you don’t fucking do exactly as I say. Take off your gun, real slow.”
“Okay, be cool. Nobody has to die today. I got plenty of money if that’s what you want. I’m going to tell you right now you’re not missing anything with her. She was boring, like I said I think she was broken in already and a cold fish. Use the money to find a better fuck than her.” I move to kneel down.
“Toss the gun. Don’t try anything. I want your money. If I can’t have it, I’ll settle for hers. She has some money, not a lot but enough to skip town on. That doesn’t really surprise me, I thought she was gonna be a mouse in bed. You can tell. I was sure I was going to have to make her scream when I busted her to get off.” His eyes are on Regina as he frowns, barely watching me.
I go to kneel, removing my gun, I toss it right toward Vincent. In the same motion, I release my knife. Vincent ducks under Taylor, grabbing Regina and pulling her down. Taylor fires right into my chest. The pain flashes but I focus on releasing the knife and bring it right up into his neck, sending it all the way through until it hits the cement wall behind him.
Regina is screaming, blood is every fucking where. I should have gone for his chest but my rage wouldn’t let me do less than destroy him. With a gurgle Taylor grabs his neck and sinks to the floor. Vincent groans out a curse word, then gives up trying to keep a hold on Regina. She’s on me, her hands running over my chest. I gasp from the pain of her touching the now spreading bruise.
“He shot you. There’s blood.”
I shake my head. “Bulletproof, hurts like hell. I think he might have cracked a rib. I’m fine.”
“Boss, I told you the shirt isn’t enough. You have to wear the shirt and the jacket.” He looks down at Taylor. “Why did you go for the neck? It’s going to take forever to clean this up. Get her home. I’ll take care of this.”
“Regina, sweetheart, did you want to see Johnny before we go home? He’s gone but...”
She shakes her head, sobbing as she clings to me.
I get Regina home, carrying her into my bedroom, our bedroom now. Earlier today Mary moved all her stuff in here. She’s still crying, thankfully her sobs have stopped. Now the tears are silent. Gradually, she falls asleep. When she does, I only give it a minute before I’m out of bed.
Although I want to hold her, grateful she’s safe, there is lingering anger with her for what she said, the question of what it means for us going forward. If she doesn’t want to do this I won’t force her. I’m not letting her go, but I won’t force her. There are also a shit ton of things I have to handle with Johnny dead.
In my closet, I grab a new suit and shirt. Damn, there’s even blood on my shoes. I grab another pair. I’ll shower off the blood in Regina’s old room and get dressed there.
Once I’m done cleaning off the blood and dressed again, I call Marco and let him know I need him back in the apartment. I have no idea what I’m going to come home to at this point, and I need to know someone is with Regina.
***
Regina
I watch from under my eyelids as Dominic leaves the room, careful to close the door without a sound. Rolling onto my back, I squeeze my eyes shut, but it makes it worse. I see it all over again. The gun going off like a cannon, scaring the shit out of me as it echoed in the stairwell.
Dominic moving as fast as lightning, me blinking and there’s blood all over Dominic. In a split second my whole world came crashing down on me. Dead. I couldn’t breathe. Only he was still standing, and hope surged through me. The need to touch him making me fight Vincent to let me go.
A bulletproof shirt. It wasn’t his blood, it was Richard’s. The blood spurting from Richard’s throat, I swear it jumped five feet into the air. Dominic hadn’t flinched, cold, no emotion, no anger, not even satisfaction as he looked down at Richard.
I blink and open my eyes. Light glints off the diamond on my finger. I study the wedding ring beside it now. It’s done in the same style as the engagement ring, leaves and small diamonds winding around it. Except it’s clearly brand new, custom made without a doubt to match the other.
Who did I marry? A man who flies in the only two people who had genuinely cared for me, a man who terrifies other men, who kills men without blinking, without emotion, a man who’s nice to young girls and kids. The way Alicia, Bethany, and Chloe talked about him. The way Lydia sang his praises, urging me to give him a chance, to trust him. So I did, and now...I don’t know anymore.
Just get it over with. The words haunt me, shred me all over again the way I know they did to Dominic. Why the hell couldn’t I have just asked him what we are, what he wanted us to be? Because I was scared. I was terrified he’d be as honest as he always was and tell me there was no way he could ever come to love me, and I would have to take it or leave it. And I would take it. I would take it, then slowly roast in hell as that love died in the face of his disregard for it.
So instead I hit him with words, to hurt him as badly as he hurt me, and now it’s worse because I didn’t really want to hurt him. Because I had no idea hurting him hurt me too.
I run my hand over my face, and oh god, it’s got blood on it from— I barely make it to the bathroom. There’s nothing in my stomach, that doesn’t stop the dry heaves. Once it finally stops I step into the shower. Looking around, I realize my stuff is in here beside Dominic’s things. We’re sharing a room?
The same room and bed he shared with all his other mistresses. How many had there been? My stomach revolts; no. I can’t. I can’t do it. Pressing my head against the tiles, I wonder how the hell I’m going to explain it to Dominic? He’d tell me I was being dramatic, tell me to get over it. God damn it, no more fucking tears. Only I can’t stop them.
It’s almost an hour before I’m finally dressed. Even though I’m not really hungry, my stomach is protesting so I go into the kitchen to find Marco making a sandwich.
“What are you doing here?”
“Dom was worried about you. He didn’t want you here alone with Johnny and everything. In case you lost it and needed him. I call him and he comes home.”
Shaking my head, I wonder if it’s the truth or if he was afraid I’d leave.
“The funeral is tomorrow, at noon. I’m sorry about your loss. Johnny was a good Don. I know not the best father. He cared about you, though. His last words were about you. Telling Dom to take care of you. There he was, barely able to breathe, the EMTs working on him, and he’s telling Dom to take care of you.”
“Tomorrow?” It’s the only thing I can focus on right now.
Marco shrugs. “Everyone is already in town for the wedding. Most people weren’t going home until tonight. It doesn’t make sense for them to go home then turn around and come
right back. Johnny planned everything out within weeks of him finding out he got sick. Everything from the flowers, to food, he did it already. He was always going to be buried in Chicago—he was only in New York to be close to his mom so she wouldn’t miss his end.”
I nod. Now that I think about it, it makes more sense. I just thought I would have longer to, I don’t know, process it. “Where is Dominic?”
“Carlo and him are pounding out details I think.” He takes his sandwich into the dining room.
What details are there to be pounded out? I wonder as I make myself a sandwich.
***
Dominic
The request for me to see Carlo isn’t a surprise. I assume it has to do with Johnny and Carlo now becoming Don. What does surprise me, what’s off, is him asking for it to be just me. I run through what it could be. The MC issue had been dealt with—thirteen MC and three of their hangers-on were in the clubhouse when it went up in an explosion from a faulty stove in the kitchen. The most important players in the Illinois chapter were dead. Was he worried something would come from it?
I go straight there from the funeral home where Johnny’s body was delivered already. Considering Johnny’s health, no autopsy was needed.
Tension inches up within me as I see there is no one in Carlo’s home except his maid to answer the door.
The door to his office is open. He is alone in the room. I close the door as I enter.
“Thank you for coming, sorry I had to be...this is not an easy discussion to have. Sit, please.” Carlo’s eyes are on his clenched hands on his desk.
I sit, a different unease building. I’m not about to be killed, but something is definitely wrong.
“With Johnny’s funeral I needed you to know. I left this far too long because I—Luca is arriving today for the funeral to pay his respects. For your wedding I kept him in Vegas on a useless task so he wouldn’t come. With Johnny dead, he has to come.” His eyes lift for a fraction of a second before sliding back down to his clenched hands that are now becoming white.
What the hell did this have to do with Luca? Did the man want money or something?
“Your father, he—Linda Moretti was Luca’s mother. She had a bad marriage. The guy was abusive. In the family we don’t get involved in things between a man and his wife. But the guy was brutal, your father.” He sighs, tearing his hands apart, he digs into his pocket and pulls out a pristine handkerchief he runs over his forehead. “He got involved and because he was a Sabatini and Moretti wished he could do what your father did, Moretti looked the other way. After the funeral of her husband, she went out to her brother in Vegas, she met my brother and they got married. Al, he couldn’t have kids.”
So how the fuck is—no fucking way. I’m shaking my head as Carlo offers me a picture frame. I don’t want to take it. I don’t need to, the man in the frame could be me. Could be Anthony Junior, but he’s not. “How could—I—” I’m up, needing room.
“It’s why I don’t have him come to Chicago. Johnny never knew. With your father going low after serving his time, not many people have seen both Luca and your father to know. Linda died almost five years ago and she never told him. Luca didn’t know Al wasn’t his father until Al died last year. He’s been asking questions. I couldn’t tell him. I couldn’t tell your father. I was afraid he’d kill me.” Carlo shakes his head as he mops the sweat off his forehead.
I nod. He was right to be afraid of Pop...fucking hell. I haven’t spoken to him since this morning before I climbed into the back of the ambulance with Johnny.
“When does he arrive?”
“Two o’clock. He’s coming here. He’ll stay here while he’s in town.”
“Me and Pop will be here when he gets here. Clear the house, you might want to find a safe place for the day.”
Carlo nods, his eyes finally meet mine. They’re full of regret, then he closes his eyes as his head goes back against his chair.
I make it to Pop’s place only a half hour later. Pulling in front of his house, I don’t know if I’m relieved or not he’s home. For the first time in ever, I knock. I’m out of sorts, not sure of anything right now.
He opens the door. At first he smiles, his eyes bright until he looks me over. “What’s the matter?”
“Can I come in?”
A frown. “Of course, this is your home.”
I walk in and go straight to his bar in his library. Pulling out his scotch, I grab a glass and pour until the glass is almost full. There is no careful, measured sip. The burn is necessary as I search for the words.
“Regina, okay?”
I’ll tell him about Taylor another time. I take another drink. Once it’s gone I set the glass down. “Linda Moretti.” It’s all I can say.
Pop goes still. “What about Linda Moretti?”
All I can do is look him in the eye. The seconds tick by, it clicks, he shakes his head in disbelief. “No.”
“Luca, it was like looking in a mirror.” His head goes back as if I punched him. “Al couldn’t have kids.”
Pop’s eyes are closed, he whispers a prayer. If I believed in prayer I would too.
“His plane gets in at two. I told Carlo you and I would be at Carlo’s place when he gets there, where he’ll be staying while he’s in town.”
Pop shakes his head. “Al was a bastard and a drunk. Luca.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “I know so little of him.”
Nodding, I pull out my phone. Valdez answers before it rings. I put it on speaker. “Mr. Sabatini, my apologies, we are still unable to locate Taylor.”
“That’s not what this is about. Taylor is dead. I killed him a few hours ago. I need to know everything about Luca Toro you can find. I mean everything. If you can find out his favorite color, I want to know it.”
There is a moment of silence. “You weren’t aware of his relation to you? I apologize, sir. We have a file on him, I can send it now.”
“Why do you have a file on him?” Pop asks.
“Sir, I have a file on everyone who matters in this country and forty-two others. Luca Toro matters. He’s a good man with a deep, abiding hatred of men who traffic women. The smart ones don’t even go through Vegas, let alone stop there anymore. He has a tendency to send them on their way without their dicks. It’s not in the file but his favorite color is green, he tells people his favorite food is Italian but he actually prefers Chinese with his favorite dish Kung Pao chicken, and he has a weakness for tall, leggy, blondes.”
He clears his throat. “It’s in your email now. I want to apologize. I made the assumption you were aware, considering you are in the same crime family and the resemblance was glaring. As far as Taylor, there will be no bill. We failed you, it won’t happen again.”
“It’s fine. Thank you for the file.”
I connect my phone to Pop’s printer and hit send. His office door is open, we can hear it going in the quiet of the house.
“This Valdez, he’s the one.”
Nodding, I look through the file on Luca. I’ve suggested Valdez to Pop in the past but Pop shook off the idea. “There is no one or nothing he can’t find. If I stop to think about it too long it’s fucking spooky. But it’s what I need, so I don’t think about it.”
We hear the printer stop. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him hesitate in my life. “You want me to get it?”
Shaking his head, he moves. “Pour me a drink.”
My phone buzzes with a text, it’s Vincent. He’s with Carlo’s man as they pick up Luca at the airport. They’ll be here in twenty minutes. I look to Pop. Christ, he looks like shit. We went through Luca’s file about a dozen times a piece, and it doesn’t feel like enough. Every word is burned into my brain. Pop has been mostly quiet. When he got to the page where there was a report of child services following up with Al Toro after Luca was in the ER with a broken arm, there was a flash of anger, but nothing since.
From everything we read, Luca as a capo was exactly what I’d heard: fair, good, and charismat
ic, pretty much what Pop would have wanted his son to be. Luca also has a flair for the dramatic and a finesse with the death of his enemies that had Pop frowning. However, given Al, it was surprising he was as restrained as he was. Every murder he ordered had meaning and reason behind it, which wasn’t as common as it should be in the Outfit.
I get another text, they’re here. My eyes meet Pop’s, the front door opens, the sound of steps on the hardwood floors grows louder. The house is empty, does Luca detect it?
“Carlo?” The voice is eerily reminiscent of Anthony Junior’s. I watch Pop wince.
The door is pushed open. I’m looking into a mirror, except for a scar on his chin, and his eyes are brown, like Anthony Junior’s.
He goes still, his eyes go to Pop, and widen.
Pop clears his throat. “Anthony Sabatini, your father. I’m sorry. I didn’t know, if I had I would never have allowed what you endured. I’m sorry.”
Luca closes his eyes, shakes his head then opens them again. “Quel che e fatto, e fatto.”
I watch Pop’s eyes glitter with tears at the words, what’s done is done. It’s spooky, Pop must have said it a hundred thousand times to me and Anthony Junior as we were growing up.
He offers his hand to Pop. “It’s good to finally meet you.”
Pop takes his hand then pulls him in for a hug. For a heartbeat Luca is stiff. My lungs freeze until, with a sigh, he returns Pop’s hug.
20
Regina
Even as I do it I know I’m going to regret it. It takes more than an hour to move everything of mine back to my room. When the alert goes off for the elevator, I’m carrying the last of my underwear. That’s how Dominic finds me, trying to get back down the hall.