Hanging in the Stars: A Mafia Romance (Dark Romeo Book 3) Page 9

  For the moment.

  No weapon, no evidence, no witnesses.

  Julianna was a witness. My stomach twisted. Whatever he had planned would not end without her dead and taking his secrets with her.

  It took everything to stand up and walk away without demanding any more information or that he take me to her, my glass left on the table by the chair.

  I had to get her out alive before my father had a chance to execute his plan. I couldn’t take any chances. Not with her life.

  An idea stirred in my head…

  Could I turn against my own father? Leaving him was one thing, but could I betray him? Could I turn my back on my family? Could I destroy my father’s legacy, as dark as it was?

  I paused at the door to his library, my hand on the cold knob. I turned to face my father again.

  “What?” he growled.

  “Do you miss Mama?” I asked.

  He stiffened. “Why are you asking me such questions?”

  “Do you?” I pushed. “Miss her?”

  Even from here, I saw the flash of pain in his eyes. He slumped back into his chair, his gaze becoming unfocused. I knew he was thinking of her. “There’s not a day goes by that I don’t think about your mother.”

  My gut knotted. In some deep, hidden part of him, my father still loved her. His love for her was like a single pure seed covered by layers of dirt, twisted roots and the thick matted branches of an overgrown forest. “If you could have her back, but you had to give up this…” I waved my arm. “Everything. Your empire. Would you do it?”

  Please, Dad, just one small sign of goodness. Show me one. Just one.

  He could barely meet my gaze. For the first time in my life, my father dropped his God-like guard and looked like any one of us mere mortals. For a second he looked like a lost boy, grabbing at ghosts.

  His face froze over like the fast approach of a winter’s frost. “I built this empire with my bare hands. Twenty years it took me to amass this kind of power. This is my legacy. Your mother was determined to ruin that before…” he trailed off. He straightened in his chair, his eyes blazing. “I would not give up our legacy for anything.”

  That single seed died. Choked to death under that black, hateful forest. There were no more chances left for redemption.

  It turned out there was part of my father in me, because when his heart froze over, so did mine. I knew what I had to do. And I would carry no guilt over doing it. I would betray my father, turn my back on my family and burn his cursed legacy to the ground.

  * * *

  I slipped past my father’s guards and defied his order not to leave the compound. I stood in front of the white painted house in a leafy suburb of Verona. The windows were trimmed in a deep red, matching the door, a weather vane straddling the terracotta-tiled roof. The dawn was just brushing the edges of the horizon, painting the quaint street in a pastel light. The whole scene was so…quaint. So wholesome.

  I felt a flicker of envy inside me at the sight of Julianna’s childhood. She told me about falling out of the tree on her lawn, a large towering oak, when she was eight, breaking her arm. Here on this footpath was where she used to draw hopscotch boxes with chalk. I imagined her taking her first ride down this driveway without training wheels on her bike. I smiled despite my situation.

  I hadn’t been followed here. I made sure of that. Still, I glanced around me again before I walked up the driveway. Standing on the porch, I stared for a moment at the door. I knew the chief was up because I could hear footsteps inside and the slight rabble of the early morning news on a radio.

  I had to make him listen to me. Surely he would put his prejudice aside if it meant he could save his daughter. Right? My stomach churned. This would either go right or it would go horribly wrong.

  I forced down my apprehension and knocked on the door.

  I heard footsteps then the door opened. Chief Montgomery Capulet appeared in the doorway. He frowned at me. “Yes?”

  I pushed back my hood. The chief’s eyes, so much like Julianna’s, flared with recognition. He snatched his gun from his hip and pointed it in my face.

  I lifted my palms but I stood my ground. “You could shoot me right now, but then you’ll never get Julianna back.”

  “You son of a bitch—”

  “I don’t have her. But I know who does. And I know how to get her back.”

  The chief cursed. “I knew something was wrong when she stopped answering my calls.”

  “Please, let me in. I’ll tell you everything I know.”

  The chief shuffled his feet, suspicion rolling off him in waves. Still, I could sense his desperation. He wanted to believe me. His eyes narrowed. “Why would you help me?”

  “Because…I care about her as much as you do.”

  “Liar.” He stepped forward so the barrel of his gun was inches from my face.

  I didn’t flinch. I just held his gaze. “Jules told me about how the two of you used to make pancakes for your late wife on her birthday. Blueberry pancakes. She said that you used to take her and her mom camping out on the lake in the Virgin Forest every July. She told me that you and your wife used to put old Louie Armstrong records on low and dance in the living room on Sundays after you thought she’d gone to sleep. She used to watch you both through the stair railings without you knowing and dream of one day finding a love like that.” As I spoke, the chief’s face softened, his mouth parting wider at each intimate detail I revealed. “Do you want me to go on?”

  “She…She told you those things?”

  I nodded.

  There was a long, terse pause. He lowered the gun but kept it close to his side. He glanced around the street to see if anyone was watching. No one was. I had made sure I wasn’t followed. He turned his hard amber eyes, so much like hers, upon me before stepping back to let me in.

  Once inside, he patted me down before he directed me into the living room of his family home, his gun still in his hand. I could see touches of a woman here—the faded pastel yellow of the walls trimmed with cream, soft gray and yellow curtains in a large floral pattern, fringed cushions on the couches. But I could see the years of being a single man layered on top of it: old yellowing newspapers in piles on the chairs and carpet, dirty coffee cups left on each flat surface, water stains in rings from glasses without coasters.

  The chief walked over to the curtains and snatched them closed, surrounding us in darkness. He switched on a side lamp, the light throwing shadows across his face. “Now,” he turned to me, “talk.”

  I told him what I knew about her attempted abduction, the contract that had fallen to Goldfish, the proof that Goldfish had given me of my father’s involvement.

  The whole time the chief paced back and forth across the carpet, tugging at his hair as he became more and more agitated.

  “Where is she being held?” he demanded when I finished talking.

  I knew. I had paid dearly for that information.

  I grabbed Benvolio’s shirt in my fists as he struggled against the rope around his wrists. It had been so easy to incapacitate him. He’d been so damn trusting. He just let me into his apartment and turned his back to me. “You’ll fucking tell me where my father is keeping her.”

  “What makes you think he told me?” Benvolio’s voice was shaking even as he tried to keep it steady.

  I lifted my lip in a snarl. “The money for her contract was wired from a subsidiary in your name. Don’t even try to deny that you aren’t balls-deep in this shit.”

  “Alright. Alright.”

  I let go of him and painfully uncurled my knuckles, stiff from the fists I had made in his shirt and his face.

  “She’s being held on a farm, southwest of Verona. It used to be a slaughterhouse. There’s a cold storage room there that’s decent for holding…” he stiffened, “people who we need to hold.”

  “Address. Now.”

  He rambled it off. I pulled out my phone and looked it up. Sure enough, it used to be an old abattoir.
“Thanks, cuz.” I slid the phone back into my jacket and curled my fingers around another piece of metal.

  “You’ll let me go now?”

  Over Benvolio’s shoulder, I spotted the photo frame he kept with a picture of the two of us. We had been sixteen then, lanky arms slung around each other’s necks. “Of course.” I smiled. “We’re cousins. Family.”

  Benvolio let out a sigh of relief. “Get this fucking rope off me, man.”

  My father’s voice echoed inside me. No weapon, no evidence, no witnesses.

  The smile faded from my face. I slid out my gun, a silencer on the end, aimed and pulled the trigger.

  Back in the chief’s house, I cracked my neck, shaking off this recent memory. “I know where they’re holding her.”

  The chief stopped pacing. “Where?”

  I shook my head and crossed my arms over my chest. “I want to make a deal. I want it in writing.”

  He stiffened. “What kind of deal?”

  I outlined my proposition.

  The chief spluttered, his cheeks turning red. “As if I’m going to make deals with a filthy scumbag criminal like—”

  “Careful, chief,” I said, “this criminal is your only hope for getting your daughter back.

  We glared at each other. A battle of wills. Who would give in first? I could see the chief working through his hatred for me and weighing it up against his daughter’s life.

  His shoulders slumped first, then his breath came rushing out of his mouth in an audible swoosh. “Fine, I’ll make it happen.”

  Relief filled me. The truth was, I would have given up Julianna’s location without cutting a deal for myself if it came down to it. Thankfully, it didn’t come down to it. Julianna’s father really did love her.

  I nodded. “Make it happen. You have until dusk tonight.”

  I turned to leave but Chief Capulet grabbed my upper arm in a vice, shoving the barrel of the gun in my cheek. “Make no mistake, Tyrell, even if I can get sign-off on this deal, I don’t trust you. You breathe wrong and I’ll take you down. You fuck me over and I’ll make you wish you were never born.” He leaned in close. “And if anything happens to her, I’ll kill you myself.”

  25

  ____________

  Julianna

  I lay in wait in my silent cell, dinner tray in my hands. It was made of a thin metal. The flat of the tray was flimsy but it curled around the edges to make a firm, thicker lip. If I swung it at just the right angle, at just the right spot, it might work.

  At least, I hoped it would. It was the only weapon I had. The remnants of my dinner, a plastic bowl crusty with canned tomato soup and bread crumbs and an empty plastic bottle of water, sat in one corner.

  My “toilet” was a wooden bucket with a lid that sat in the farthest corner. At first I was embarrassed at relieving myself in such an undignified way. It didn’t take long for my bladder to feel like it was bursting and for me to stop caring.

  I’d been standing at the edge of the door, waiting, for ages. Hours, it felt like. Although I knew it was more like minutes. They always came back within the hour to pick up my meal things.

  Finally I heard the footsteps of someone approaching. I heard the jingle of keys. I readied myself, lifting the tray above my head.

  The door to the cold room slid open and a guard stepped in. I swung with everything I had. I smacked the base of his head with the edge of the tray. It made a dull clunk. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he collapsed to the ground.

  I stared down at the guard. He was no more than a boy, really. Maybe eighteen. Nineteen at most. What the hell happened to him that he would choose a life working for the Tyrells?

  I had no time to lose, no time to stand around feeling sorry for my captors.

  I slid around the corner of the doorway. Right into the barrel of a gun. The second guard lifted his lip in a sneer. Past him was a thin corridor between palettes. I could see parts of a wooden building. I could smell hay and the earthy hint of livestock. I was in a barn. Likely on rural property. I probably wasn’t even in Verona anymore. My stomach dropped. How was anyone going to find me out here? The only one who would have known that I was missing was Roman.

  “Back in your cage, girlie,” the guard said, “or you and me will have problems.”

  I lifted my hands up. Dammit. I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy.

  26

  ____________

  Roman

  “You’re late.”

  I froze at the doorway to the dining room of my father’s large mansion, where my father was seated with Abel to his right. Abel sneered at me from his seat, the one that should have been mine. A few of my father’s men stood around at various points of the room, guarding him.

  “Sorry, Father.” I strode to the empty seat on my father’s left, ignoring the look he and Abel were trading. The table was laid with various plates of pasta, steamed greens glossy with melted butter, and a leg of lamb in a baking tray sitting in a thick, rich tomato and olive sauce.

  “Where have you been?” my father asked.

  For a second I wondered if he knew.

  I shrugged as I began to fill my plate, even though I was anything but hungry. “Out.”

  “Out where?”

  I tried not to flinch. My father never questioned where I was. Why now?

  “Just…out. Riding around. Clearing my head.”

  “I did not give you permission to leave the mansion.”

  I speared an olive on my fork. “I didn’t think I needed it.” My father had forbidden me to leave earlier. I had to dodge the security cameras, then climb over the wall to get out.

  Bang!

  My father’s fist slammed down on the table, making everything vibrate. “You will look at me when I’m talking to you.”

  I put down my fork deliberately, swallowed my olive and lifted my eyes. His black eyes glittered with fury. Was he angry because I disobeyed his orders? Or did he know I had sought out his enemy? Did he know I was plotting the downfall of his empire?

  If he knew, he’d kill me. No, he would torture me, make me hurt for days before he got bored and finally killed me.

  Don’t flinch, Roman. Act like you’ve done nothing wrong.

  My father leaned in towards me. “You dare disobey me again and I won’t think twice but to punish you.”

  Let it go, Roman. Just nod like a good boy and keep your mouth shut.

  I couldn’t let it go. “I’m a Tyrell,” I said. “I do what I want. Isn’t that what you’re always telling me?”

  I could feel more than hear the collective holding of breath of the men around the room. Abel hissed under his breath at my insolence. My father glared back at me. The tension twisted between us. Father. Son. The student now becoming the master. The power struggle clear. This had been the first time I’d ever talked back to him and he knew it. I wondered if anyone had ever spoken back to him and lived. I was no longer a boy. I was no longer listening to his word as gospel and “yes, Father,” “no, Father” was no longer part of my vocabulary. His usual methods of demand and obey were no longer going to work on me. I could see the slight flash of fear in his eyes. I was no longer his son, a man beneath him, but a man reaching for his own power. An equal. Someone who could easily take his place. Someone to be feared.

  I could see the flash of indignation in being spoken back to in front of his men. He wanted to punish me. But I was his only heir and he needed me.

  The tension in the room was thick, suffocating. I matched his stare, daring him to do his worst. Go on, Father, I egged him on with my smirk, do your worst. Challenge me. I’m ready. I’m not afraid of you anymore. We’ll see who comes out on top.

  My father’s lip twitched. He broke out into laughter, breaking the tension. He leaned back into his chair and clasped my shoulder. “Finally, you’re getting it through your thick skull. Yes, you are a Tyrell. You do what you want, when you want to do it. Let any man here dare to get in your way.” He wipe
d the small beads of sweat off his brow. Across his forehead I could see the fingers of his right hand shaking.

  * * *

  After dinner, I waved off the glasses of cognac that were being passed around and made my excuses. I left the dining room and headed down the corridor to my room, my leather shoes sinking into the plush carpet, my head spinning. A hand grabbed me roughly on my shoulder.

  I spun, my body tensing. Abel was glaring at me, the dining room door shut behind him, leaving the two of us alone. Had my father sent him?

  I shoved his hand off my jacket. “Touch me again, dog, and I’ll make sure you never use that hand.”

  Abel sneered at me. “You talk a good game. But I think you’re full of shit.”

  “You want to test me on that?” I stepped closer to him, glaring down at him, using my extra two inches to my advantage. He didn’t even flinch.

  “I think,” he said slowly, an excitement glittering in his eyes, “that you’re getting too close to people that you shouldn’t.”

  I stiffened, trying not to reveal the flash of panic that went through me. If Abel had any inkling of where I’d been… If he knew I’d been about to run away with Julianna…

  If he had proof, then I’d be dead. I shrugged and turned to leave, dismissing him with a scoff. “I don’t answer to you.”

  “Your father’s getting suspicious too.”

  I snorted. “If my father had suspicions, then he’d be the one up in my face.” I turned to face him again, my arms crossed over my chest. “You just hate that I’m his son and that I’ll be your boss one day.”

  “You don’t deserve it,” Abel said with a snarl.

  “Careful,” I said, “your bitterness is showing.”

  “Maybe. But you’ll fuck up soon enough. Just remember,” he smiled, “I’m watching.”

  27

  ____________

  Roman