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I’m twenty-four, and he’s never told me he loved me until now—even though I understand the reasons why. His words threaten to bring me to my knees. I spent a long time thinking I did something wrong. My mother had died during childbirth, or who I thought was my mother, and my father couldn’t even look at me. I took Alessio’s pain and made it my own, allowing a part of me to drain away. And though a part of me will always feel like that neglected little girl, the woman I am refuses to punish Alessio, he’s been to hell and back already.
If all we ever have is this right now, it will still be enough. Because Alessio’s only crime was raising a little girl he wasn’t allowed to love while watching from afar as his own daughter was twisted into a monster.
I make it to the bathroom just in time to throw up.
I’ve witnessed people being tortured and murdered. Hell, I kept my stomach after the shit with Petra, but there has always been a disconnect between them and me, a separation between work and home. This is different, and I don’t give a shit that DNA says otherwise. Alessio has always been mine. That’s why it hurts that I share blood with the person who ripped Alessio’s world apart.
How fucking ironic is it that the Cosa Nostra is supposed to be all about loyalty, and yet everywhere I turn, all I see is betrayal?
When there’s nothing left in me to bring back up, I stand infront of the sink and splash my face with cold water and brush my teeth. Staring at my too-pale face in the mirror, I ask myself once more what the fuck I’m doing. My reflection doesn’t have any answers for me. She never does.
Taking a deep breath, I apply some eyeliner and a bit of mascara before heading into my bedroom. Shaking off my emotions, I lock down anything that won’t help me tonight and move to the closet. Ignoring the white shirt and suit I wear for work, I pull out a pair of skin-tight black leather pants, a long-sleeved black turtleneck, and a pair of knee-high biker boots.
Once I’m dressed, I strap a gun to one leg and a knife to the other before slipping on a harness and adding two more guns. Smoothing my hair, I quickly twist it into a tight braid at the back of my head. I check myself out in the mirror and laugh despite everything. I look like a cross between Emo Barbie and the woman from Tomb Raider.
Reaching into the back of the closet, I grab a black ski mask and a pair of gloves, shoving them in my pockets before I make my way out to the living room. I glance around at the small space that has been my home since I moved out of the main house at sixteen and close my eyes. It’s not much, but it’s mine. If things go to shit, this could be the last time I stand here.
It’s a risk I take daily doing my job, but there is something in the air tonight—something thick and oppressive—that makes me feel a sense of impending doom.
I shake it off and head out, turning off the lights as I go. There is nothing I can do now except have faith in my abilities and trust in my training.
Moving to the garage, I swap out the plates on the black Mercedes for fake ones. I pull my cell phone from my pocket andcheck the text Alessio sent with Vice’s supposed location before shoving it in my pocket.
I don’t use the GPS on the car, knowing it’s too easy to trace. The last thing I want, if I have to dump the car at the scene of a crime, is to have it traced back to us by reversing its destination. That’s why neither I nor Alessio use it.
While I wait for the garage door to open, I tap out a tune on the steering wheel, wondering exactly what I’m going to be walking in on. Alessio’s information was limited. His informant could only catch snippets from passing by Dano’s office.
You’d think if you’re plotting someone’s murder, you’d be careful enough to make sure there’s nobody around to hear it. But then most men, in my opinion, believe their own hype. They rely on fear to keep people quiet. It might work on men lower on the totem pole, but women are different. We learn about fear from birth. In our world, we’re seen as weaker, useless, nothing more than pawns in a game ofwhose dick is bigger.
Fear is a way of life for us, and though we adapt to it, it’s always there in the back of our heads. It’s because of this that women like Alessio’s informant can still function. You learn to work around the fear, and when necessary, you use it to your advantage. I just hope it doesn’t end up getting her killed. If Vice is anything like Aldo, then he’d make her death as brutal as possible. He’d have her begging on her knees with his cock in her mouth as he put a bullet in her brain.
I shake my head, breaking out of my thoughts. My mind tends to wander when I’m under a lot of stress, but I don’t have the luxury of doing that tonight. If I don’t keep my shit together, I won’t have to worry about saving Vice or marrying Aldo because I’ll be dead.
I park the car at the clinic in one of the spaces reserved for the doctors. A car like this won’t seem too out of place here, and the cameras only focus on the building and not the parking lot. Climbing out, I pop the trunk and grab a black trench coat that’s far too big on me, but I slip it on anyway, using it to hide my frame and the weapons strapped to my body. I pull on the gloves from my pocket and put the ski mask on top of my head. I use it to cover my hair, but I don’t cover my face just yet. If I pass anyone, they’ll be less likely to remember seeing someone with their head down than spotting someone who looks like they’re about to rob a bank. Not knowing what time shit is supposed to go down, I make my way to the meeting point.
The factory is in Moretti territory, and just being here could get my ass in so much fucking trouble. I walk quickly, even though I could easily jog the quarter mile. But just like with the mask, people running tend to attract more attention than those taking a stroll and minding their own business. Of course, thanks to the trench coat, I now look like a flasher in this get-up. If that doesn’t keep people away, I think to myself with a grin, nothing will.
I look around once I get there, but I don’t see any cars, so I make my way inside. The factory is one of three properties here, this one being the closest to the docks. It’s a good location for distributing shit like guns and drugs, but if it were me, I’d avoid it like the fucking plague. If I were a cop, this would be the first place I’d look. They might have a bunch of the police force in their pockets—hell, each of the families does—but there will always be a newly promoted rookie who’s trying to prove himself that thinks his badge will save him from retribution. It never fucking does, ofcourse. They’ll most likely end up floating in the same waters they were patrolling, a stark reminder to everyone else not to cross the Mafia.
Once inside the factory, the first thing I do is check for cameras. I’m not surprised when I find none. Most people would have to have a death wish to steal from the Mafia, and we sure as shit wouldn’t have cameras in areas where something illegal might be happening.
There are rows of boxes stacked neatly on pallets, all marked with red tape labeled as fragile. Near those are production lines that are empty right now, but I can picture people in the daylight hours, checking the quality of each item that passes them before placing it back down for the next person.
I have no idea what they ship from here, but I doubt very much that they’d be stupid enough to leave boxes of drugs or guns lying around. People might not, as a general rule, steal from the Mafia, but junkies are a law unto themselves, unable to see beyond their next fix to the consequences. And I’m not talking about OD-ing.
Looking up, I see a mezzanine in the far corner that looks down over the space. I make my way over to it, liking the vantage point it will give me, though I don’t love how blocked in I’ll be. I’d be able to take out a few men from the height advantage, but if a large group comes and turns on me, they only need to wait for me to run out of bullets before charging up the stairs. There is no other way out unless I want to throw myself out the window, but I tend to find running with broken legs rather tricky.
Looking around once more, I come to the same conclusion that it’s the best place for me, even given the risks. I hurry over to it as quietly as possible, sliding the mask down over my face now thatI’m inside. I make sure my gloves are in place before I climb up the steps, happy when they don’t make a sound—I might need to sneak down them later and don’t want to give myself away.
There is a filing cabinet and a large desk up here that you can’t see from below. And a huge plant in the corner that offers a little life to an otherwise drab setting. The small windows provide enough light to see around the area closest to me but leave enough shadows to hide within.
With nothing left to do now, I lie down on my belly, angling the plant closer to the railing to give me a little extra cover, and wait for the party to start.
Chapter 12
Vice
Iclimb out of the car and fasten the button on my jacket as Dano climbs out the other side.
