Eagle elite volume ii, p.66
Eagle Elite Volume II, page 66
That was the real human condition.
Save me today, and I’ll live for you tomorrow.
Fix it and I’ll do anything.
Just this once! And my life is yours.
We say a lot of words we don’t mean.
And yet, I would say all of those things again and again, if it would bring her back to me.
With lead-filled legs, I went to the box office, purchased my ticket and sat in the farthest row back I could.
It was packed; then again, it was Friday.
My phone buzzed in my pocket.
I pulled it out.
Nixon
Are you dead?
Sergio
I’m texting you back, does that answer your question?
Nixon
You need backup?
Sergio
No.
I turned off my phone and slid it into my pocket just as the lights dimmed then lit up again only to dim one last time. As the music swelled, I closed my eyes and hoped to God, one day, one day I’d be free.
Sunlight streamed through the curtains, landing square on my eyes. I hissed out a curse and tossed a pillow in the general direction of the window.
We were staying at a boutique hotel near Times Square, the more people around us, the merrier. It meant we didn’t have to worry about getting shot at. My money was on the uncles staying up all night trying to figure out how to order a hit on their own Family and the single Abandonato in a sea full of Alferos.
Four loud knocks on my door had me leisurely getting out of bed, grabbing my Glock, and holding it behind my back as I peeked through the peephole to see who was there.
Dante.
He didn’t appear armed.
Didn’t mean he wasn’t.
Sighing, I pulled the door open. “Either I’m going to be your first kill, or you want to talk.” I scratched my head with the gun in my right hand. “My bet’s on the latter.”
“You’re a real arrogant prick, you know that, right?” Dante observed in a calm voice.
“I’m very aware of my accomplishments, yes.”
Rolling his eyes, he shoved past me.
“Yes, please, come in. I wasn’t sleeping or anything.”
“Men like you don’t sleep, too much blood on your hands.”
“Jaded for someone so young.”
“Nineteen isn’t young, not in this world. How old were you when you first killed someone, when you took someone’s life?” His blue eyes locked on mine. They saw too much, just like Luca, damn it.
“Fourteen,” I answered in a deliberately bored tone. “Though I was only ten when my father forced me to shoot the family pet at point blank range. Then again, it was either shoot the pet or my own cousin. I chose the dog.”
Dante didn’t flinch, but he did avert his eyes.
“I don’t need your pity,” I snapped.
“Good.” He sneered. “Wasn’t offering it.”
“So that’s it? That’s what you wanted to know? How old I was before I sold my soul to the Family?”
“No.” His shuttered expression cracked, revealing something I recognized well—fear. “I wanted to talk about Val.”
“What about her?”
“She doesn’t know.”
“No shit.”
“Would you just listen? And stop with the sarcasm, damn it. Do you realize how annoying you are? Or how emotionally draining it is just to be in the same room as you?”
“I’d like to think it’s part of my charm.”
He took a deep breath and walked over to the window, keeping his back to me. Stupid move. I could kill him without hesitation.
But maybe that was the point.
He was trying to show he trusted me.
By showing his back.
I nodded silently. I respected that.
So I lowered the gun to the table and crossed my arms. “I’m going to assume that when you say Val doesn’t know, what you’re really trying to get across is that she doesn’t know you know.”
His shoulders tensed.
“And you’ve been keeping it from her… how long?”
He didn’t answer.
“Dante.”
“My whole life,” he whispered. “Gio, Sal, and Papi made a promise never to reveal anything to Val. It would destroy her, the truth. The promise included me… until things went wrong.”
“You mean until you were sent away, and the Families started their little war?”
He nodded, still staring out the window. “They trained me. I swore I’d never tell Val but now…” His shoulders lifted and fell as he released a heavy sigh. “Now she’s going to find out.”
“She won’t hate you.”
“She will.”
“Val seems like a forgiving person.”
“Hah!” He turned and met my stare. “And you know her so well?”
“I’m about to,” I muttered, sitting on the bed. “Look, for what it’s worth, there isn’t any part of this situation that makes me comfortable. My Family is perfectly happy in Chicago. The Capo runs things from there as well as Italy. We finally have peace because of what your father has done, because of the Empire he has built. I’m not here out of any selfish ambition. I’m here because I owe it to him to follow through with his plan, from the very beginning, so even if that means I have to eat shit—literally, I’ll do it. That’s how much I respected Luca. I would consider it the greatest compliment of my life if someone said I lived the way he did.”
Dante tensed again. “If he was so great, why did he leave us?”
Playing therapist wasn’t my strong suit.
Why wasn’t Andi with me?
She’d always known what to say.
When to make a joke.
When to be serious.
When to offer wisdom.
I had my gun.
And scars on my body.
That’s all I had.
“This life,” I started slowly, struggling to choose the right words, “is not the one he wanted for you. Had he not died, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. But he did die. That leaves us with only one choice.”
“I haven’t decided yet,” he whispered.
“Neither have I.”
He frowned. “What do you mean?”
I smirked. “I haven’t decided if you’ve got the balls for the job yet, cupcake. It’s going to take a hell of a lot more than trying to sucker punch me in the face to prove your worth.”
“Yeah well, I’m young, not stupid, I figured with your training the easiest way to shock you was to charge you like a bull.”
“It probably would have worked if you hadn’t yelled before you ran at me.”
Dante laughed softly and then a bit louder. “Yeah, I’ll work on that.”
“Mafia rule number one.” I nodded. “Don’t let them know they’re dead until they see their own blood on their hands.”
“Morbid.”
“Life.”
“I feel like I need to go to Disneyland after talking with you. Happiest place on earth, Sergio… I need happy if this my future.”
“I can’t promise you’ll find it in the fold.”
“Yeah. But one can hope, right?”
No. Wrong.
There was no happiness in death.
There was only finality.
And silence.
“You drive?” I changed the subject.
“Yeah, why?”
“You’re taking me and Frank to the meeting.”
“So now I’m your chauffer?”
“Even made men have to start somewhere,” I called out as I made my way into the bathroom. “Oh, and touch any of my weapons, and I’m going to decapitate you before you can utter a sorry.”
He held his hands up. “Got it.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
To show our simple skill, that is the true beginning of our end —A Midsummer Night’s Dream
Valentina
He was right.
I hated that he was right.
Because the morning came.
And I still felt angry and confused.
My mornings used to be filled with laughter and teasing. Instead, we all sat around the small coffee table and waited in silence as the clock on the wall ticked off the minutes.
I was almost afraid to move.
Afraid to breathe.
Dante wasn’t there.
And I was worried.
Worried that we were in trouble—or that we owed money to someone. After tossing and turning all night, that was the only conclusion I could come up with. We owed money to some very bad people, and they needed us to pay them back.
It finally made sense.
How the flower shop and bar were able to stay open through the economic downturn.
Why, even though we were never busy, we never struggled to pay bills.
Dante’s bloodied hands! The whispers about his fighting.
I felt so stupid.
So naive that I hadn’t seen it before.
And, if I was being totally honest, I felt a bit betrayed that my uncles hadn’t confided in me about their financial struggles but put my own brother in some sort of underground fighting gang. Guilt gnawed at my chest. There were so many things I’d asked for in the past few years that I never really needed.
Things that I couldn’t sell now.
I’d already done a Google search for extra jobs, but everything available was, basically, either dangerous like a bike courier or they wanted more experience than I had.
One thing was for sure.
I wasn’t going to college—probably ever.
The screen door opened and then slammed shut. Footsteps echoed across the worn hardwood floor, and then Dante, Sergio, and the older man—Frank, was it?—all appeared from down the hall.
They shuffled into the kitchen where I sat at the table.
My heart sank even further.
We were going to get killed in front of the pancakes.
I just knew it.
Because everyone’s expressions were grim, as if a death just happened in the family, only I knew it was probably going to be mine.
“Please!” I shot to my feet. “Please don’t kill us!”
Frank and Sergio shared a look while Dante closed his eyes as if he was in pain.
“Whatever we owe!” I kept talking, the words tumbling over each other as they spilled out. “I have some money in savings, and I’m sure we can figure out a payment plan or something. Just please don’t kill us.” I was bordering on hysterics as big hot tears rolled down my cheeks.
Sergio slowly made his way over to me and grabbed my hand. “Nobody’s going to die.”
“Yet,” Frank muttered.
My knees buckled and I sat back down while Sergio spat out a curse under his breath. “Was that really necessary?”
Frank shrugged.
Dante rushed to my side. “Are you okay?”
“No!” I jerked away from him. “I’m not okay! Just tell me what’s going on! And what we owe, and how to fix it!”
“That’s going to be difficult.” Dante stood to his full height then backed away. “We don’t owe any money… What we owe is more…” A pained expression formed on his features. “…personal.”
“What do you mean?” I searched the faces of my uncles, but every time I tried to get them to make eye contact they looked away.
I felt like I had no one.
And yet, there was Sergio, right by my side.
“Show her,” Gio barked.
Frank stepped forward and pulled out a black folder.
It had my name on it.
But I’d never broken any laws.
I didn’t even jaywalk.
So, a folder with my name, it had to be a bad sign right? A really bad sign.
With trembling hands I opened it.
The first page was a birth certificate, with my exact birthdate and my full name, but the last name I didn’t recognize. It wasn’t Grecco, it was Nicolasi.
“Valentina Joyce Nicolasi,” I whispered. “But my last name…” I didn’t finish because my picture was on the next page. It had to have been taken a year ago, because I was wearing the coat I’d gotten for Christmas. What. The. Hell?
What followed were pictures of me as a child. I recognized some: my first trip to the City, me carrying a giant stuffed dog, and swinging in the park with Gio—how old had I been? Four? Maybe five? The earlier pictures didn’t make sense to me, I was in a city I didn’t recognize, holding mans hand.
And finally, the most recent, me and Dante in the park laughing, both of us wearing smiles while someone in the background watched, a man, a man I recognized, his smile wide, his eyes hopeful.
It made my chest ache.
His smile was familiar.
As if that smile used to be directed toward me.
I let out a gasp and covered my mouth, then whispered between my fingers. “Is that… our father, Dante?”
He nodded, his expression grim.
Wasn’t this a good thing?
“Where is he?” I yelled, jumping to my feet. “Is he here? Is that why you guys are all acting weird? I thought he didn’t want anything to do with us, and—”
“My brother,” Frank said softly, “is dead. I’m sorry.”
I fell back against my chair as bitterness washed over me. So that was it? I finally got to see truth, and the rug was ripped out from beneath me?
“Keep reading,” Dante urged.
Sergio was as still as a statue next to me.
I turned the page and saw my name again.
It was a contract.
Between the Abandonato Family and the Nicolasi Family.
I hereby swear upon death that if it is within my power to join Valentina’s hand in marriage to Sergio Abandonato, I will make it so, or let my soul burn for an eternity.
“I’m BETROTHED?” I yelled, looking up.
“Not just betrothed.” Oh, now Gio speaks up? “You are promised to Sergio… to”—he swallowed—“one of the most powerful mafia Families in the Cosa Nostra. If Dante does not take his rightful place, you will be marrying the new boss to Frank Alfero’s Empire.”
I burst out laughing.
Nobody joined me.
My laughter faded. “You can’t be serious!” I pushed to my feet. “Is this a prank? Mob boss? Cosa Nostra?” I scanned the room for hidden cameras, because, come on! Mafia? Did that even exist anymore? The idea was laughable. Why was everyone still sitting? “Guys! The joke’s up, come on, whose idea was this?”
Nobody moved.
Finally, Dante spoke, “Val, it’s real.”
I frowned. “Dante, seriously…”
“Damn it, Val!” Dante’s voice rose. “Our father was Luca Nicolasi! One of the most lethal mob bosses in history! Frank is your damn uncle!” He pointed at Frank who managed to look at least a bit sad.
The lines in Frank’s face drew into a scowl. “You could have said that better, Dante.”
“Better she know than assume it’s a joke. I wish.” He put his hands on his head and turned around in a circle then faced me. “Val…” His nostrils flared. “I kept it from you to protect you, all right? I would never purposefully—”
“All of you?” I stumbled back, jerking away from him. “All of you knew? This whole time? And I was in the dark?”
Choking on a cry, I stared at each of my uncles, none of them could look me in the face, even Frank had averted his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.
Dante swore and punched a hole in the kitchen wall.
Dust settled at his feet.
And Sergio simply stood there. In the same spot. Staring.
“How long have you known?” I directed my question at him.
“Eight weeks.”
“And you’ve waited that long to tell me! What kind of person are you? You could have at least given me warning! Oh look hi, I’m Sergio, I OWN you!”
“My apologies,” Sergio said in a tense voice. “I must have been too busy taking care of my cancer-ridden wife. How selfish of me.” He moved toward me with a cat like grace, predatory, like he was going to pounce. “You’re right, I should have texted you the minute she died and told you the good news.”
“I—”
“Say you’re sorry and I won’t hesitate to shoot something.”
I lifted my chin as tears clogged my throat. “Shoot something. Just make sure it’s not a human. And I am sorry. There, I said it. Because as much as this sucks…” It was nearly impossible to keep the tears of sadness and frustration away, and I finished in a whisper, “That’s worse.”
His lips parted a bit and then he turned on his heel and stomped out of the room.
“Is he really going to shoot something?” I asked the room.
“Probably,” Frank answered then held out his hand. “Val, let’s go for a walk, shall we?”
“Am I safe with you?”
“I’m a wonderful shot.”
I narrowed my eyes and assessed him. “I bet you are.”
He offered a polite smile. “You’re my niece, I would protect you with my life.”
At least he was willing to give me something. My uncles were still staring daggers into the table as if it was going to come alive and start spouting Shakespeare. “Fine.”
“Good girl.” He kissed my hand. “I promise, it’s not so bad as it seems.”
“Oh?”
“Actually…” He winced. “I’m afraid it’s worse.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
And though she be but little, she is fierce! —A Midsummer Night’s Dream
Sergio
Cement.
Gravel.
Pavement.
Streetlights.
I exhaled slowly, the shaky breath staggering in puffs of white in the freezing air as I leaned against the brick wall in the narrow alleyway. The winter chill should have been powerful enough to choke the life out of me, but I felt nothing.
Except a keen numbness that had me, once again, wondering what the hell I was doing in New York. I wasn’t making things better. I’d already beaten up a few old men, threatened to shoot people in front of a girl who’d never seen violence a day in her life, and that was with me trying to control myself.
God help us all if I truly lost my shit.
I wiped my face with my hands then focused on a tiny crack in the wall. Life was easier that way—it was the only way I knew how to handle the tumultuous emotions surging through me, focus on small, don’t think about the bigger picture.
