His (A Bad Boy Mafia Romance)(32)
Donnie and Russo move forward to cut his ropes. They are my Uncle Antony’s cousins. He wants to bring them in on the family business, and I was the unlucky son of a bitch that got saddled with them. But you have to stand by family. At least that’s how we handle business in the Citrione family. Still, I’d normally find something pointless for them to be doing. Maybe shaking down local businesses for money they owe or some shit, but Pops said the Sanatore and Anastasio families are moving some of their business to our turf. They offered to pay tributes, but we couldn’t agree on a cut. We knew there would be trouble and when they whacked Marco Truss, one of our associates in the fencing business, it meant war. Now I’m looking over my shoulder everywhere I go, worried there’s a gun out for me. Having two extra bodies around can’t hurt, so I brought the kids along.
It’s not all bad though. War with the Anastasio family means I have Pops’ blessing to do whatever the fuck I want to Lucky when I find him. Just thinking about him gunning down Jackie makes my blood run hot. It feels like a betrayal, but I can’t even keep focused on revenge like I used to. Aubriella keeps invading my thoughts with her soft curves and sweet smell. Before I met her, I would’ve been like a bloodhound after Lucky pointed me on the right trail. I make a silent pledge to get my mind right, to find a way to go after Jackie’s killer. But hell, if he saw Aubriella, he’d understand.
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I wipe the blood from my hands and gesture from Donnie and Russo to help Ronnie into the car. They’ve already been told to drop him back at his place. I take the call. It’s Jimmy.
“Boss, you’re not going to like this.”
I scowl. “Enough with the theatrics, Fingers. Spit it out.”
“It’s your girl’s article. Some crumb slapped his name on it and published it. I mean, unless they worked out some kind of deal—”
“Watch it,” I say slowly. “You be real fuckin’ careful, Jimmy. You’re practically family, but don’t talk about her like that. Don’t even think about implying she was in on it.”
“Hey, hey. All I’m sayin’ is that I thought you should check it out.”
“Yeah,” I say, hanging up the phone. I squeeze it until my knuckles turn white. “Frankie, I need you to find Jerry Washington and bring him the fuck here,” I say, jabbing my finger at the ground that’s still splattered with Ronnie’s blood. “If I’m not back, milk him for everything he knows. I don’t care if you kill him.”
“The Jerry Washington?”
“Yeah, dipshit. Did I fuckin’ stutter?”
Frankie glares at me a little too long before turning to leave. I watch him go, feeling uneasy. Shit was never the same between Frankie and I after Jackie died. He blamed me, I blamed him. We never said as much, but it was clear. Frankie thought I was too soft on the kid, that if he had a stronger chin he could’ve fought his way out of the hit. I thought Frankie pushed him too hard and too fast to get involved. Then again, I blamed myself as much as Frankie. If I hadn’t lost my temper in Jersey, the Anastasios wouldn’t have come after Jackie to draw me out. Fuckin’ cowards.
I get a sudden urge to go check on Aubriella. I’d been planning on showing up at the game later, but all this new shit with the Anastasios and Sanatores is making me antsy. I want to have her nearby so I know she’s safe. I also need to hear what she knows about the article. She looked me right in the eye and said she trashed it. There’s no way she would betray my trust like that. Still, I need to ask. I need to see her.
14
Aubriella
After I do my pre-halftime spot, I find a quiet corridor under the stadium and sink down, letting the tears come freely now. The concrete of the tunnel is cold against my ass and back. I can still feel the rumble of fans above me, but it’s about as quiet as I can hope for in the middle of an NFL game. I can’t stop thinking about the way that guy talked to me. It wasn’t just how degrading it was, it was that I just stood there and took it. I didn’t tell him to go fuck himself or do anything. I just stood there like a deer in the headlights. I’m stronger than that. At least I like to think I am. Strong or not, I just wish Vince was here right now. He wouldn’t let someone talk to me like that. For once, it would be nice to sit back while someone fought my battles for me.
I don’t need him. I know I don’t. I just want him. If I didn’t, I would go to witness protection and get this sorted out real fast. Or I would publish the rest of that article and find a place to lay low while the cops rounded them all up. I wipe the tears from my eyes and sniff, finally gaining some composure. That’s all it is. I’m not weak, I just don’t want to do anything that’s going to put him in danger. I’ve tried to convince myself that I’ll be happy if I never see him again, but that’s a crock of shit. He may not be perfect, but he’s good to me. That should be enough.