Chapter Forty-Seven - Victoria
The main hub for the Gori crime family is Flats Trucking, a large warehouse with a small five-truck fleet that has no purpose whatsoever other than the obvious cover they need for their illegal money laundering. I can remember cops being there all the time when I was a kid. I used to think, Finally. They will go to jail and I will never have to see any of them again. Lucio will be locked away and I will be safe.
But they were never arrested. They never went to jail. I was never safe. My adopted father was the only who cared back then, and he wasn’t even in the area. He made some kind of deal with Lucio and took me far enough away to let people forget.
“He’s reasonable,” my father said that day. “He understands when he can’t win.”
I used to believe that.
No. Wait, I never really believed it. I wanted to think my father is all-powerful. That he was the strongest man alive. That he could save me from anything because he talked Lucio Gori into letting me go fifteen years ago.
But it was a deal with the devil, as they say.
So no. No one is clean in this. Not the Gori crime family. Not my father. Not me.
I get dropped off about three blocks away from the trucking company. They don’t hang out there anyway, it’s just a front. No, I get dropped off at ground zero for the Gori family.
Hederman’s Bar.
There are three or four bars where Lucio always worked and hung out. But Hederman’s was always his first choice.
So it’s my first choice now.
I don’t even know what I’m doing here. I just feel the need. Some kind of internal need to confront him. The only recording device I have is a cheap pay-as-you-go phone I bought, along with a fake leather purse, at the airport. I doubt the sound quality will be great inside my purse, but I switch on the voice recorder as I approach my destination.
There are no windows to look in from the outside, but there are plenty of ways for them to see out and it starts with the CCTV camera mounted at the corner of the front door.
The bar is always locked. You knock, you wait, they come, or they don’t. You go in by invitation only.
I don’t need to knock. It opens just as my knuckles are grazing the old, weather-beaten wood.
A man appears on the other side, someone I have never seen before. Young, muscular, frightening.
He doesn’t ask who I am or what I want. That’s not his job. His job is to open the damn door, so that’s all he does.
I step into the hazy darkness. It smells like cigar smoke and stale whiskey. There are four men playing pool in the back, three couples having lunch in the dark red booths along the perimeter, and no sign of Lucio Junior.
I stare at the bartender, who is doing his best to ignore me, but failing. When he notices me noticing him, he ducks his head and begins wiping down the bar.
Lucio does that to people.
Scares them.
“Violeta,” the smooth voice says from the far side of the bar.
The way he says that name makes my stomach clench in fear. I hate that name, I hate that name, I hate that name. Keep calm, I tell myself. Just keep calm.
He knows I hate that name.
I look to find Lucio Gori standing near the back, holding open a red velvet curtain that leads to his private work area.
“Victoria,” I say, with as much defiance as I can muster. “My name is Victoria.”
“Sure,” he muses, like I’m nothing but a joke. “You will always be Violeta to me. But come in the back, Victoria. I can adapt to a new name. Let’s catch up, eh? It’s been a long time.”
I lift my head and walk slowly towards the back, eyeing all the men in this small bar. Thinking about all the ways they can hurt me. How quick they will be to grab me with one word from their boss.
“They know better, my sweet. Don’t even look at them. They are not worth your attention. Besides, I have someone you know back here. And he is very eager to see you again. I hear you’ve had some trouble this past week?”
My heart sinks, thinking of who he has in that back room. It can’t be West. It can’t be him. There is no way he got here before me.
“Hurry now,” Lucio says. “He’s uncomfortable.”
Jesus Christ. Why did I come here?
“I knew you’d come back of your own free will, Violeta,” Lucio says once I’m within arm’s reach. He brushes the back of his hand down my cheek as I stand in front of the half-drawn curtain, hesitating. “Oh, now is not the time to be afraid, Violeta. There is plenty of time for that.”
I swallow hard and look him in the eyes. Those dark eyes. Almost black, just like his soul. “I’m not afraid,” I say. “I’m not afraid of you, Lucio.”
“You should be.” And then he draws the curtain all the back so I can see who is waiting for me in the back room.
My father is tied to a chair, his face so bloody, I barely recognize him. “Pops!” I rush over to him, my hand on his shoulder, shaking him. He doesn’t move. “Pops,” I say again, softer this time. “Please. Answer me.” But he doesn’t. He is out cold, maybe even dead. I can’t tell. I whirl around to face Lucio. “What did you do?”
Everything I came here to do flies out the window. There will be no confession, I understand that now. Weston was right. Lucio knows how to hunt. But West doesn’t have to worry, I’m not the bait. My father is.
“He came to me, Tori.” Lucio snarls the nickname West uses like it’s a filthy word. “He came to me asking where you were. Threatened me, Victoria. And I admit, I had my doubts when I waited so patiently these past few days and you never came looking for him. I started imagining all the ways your little revenge scheme might play out. I even sent people to track you down, but you disappeared in Miami. With him.”
I don’t need to guess who he’s talking about. “That was you on that island, wasn’t it? You were the one who came and tried to kill us.”
Lucio laughs loud and long. “Island? No, my sweet Violeta. That was not me. But I would have,” he says, turning his head so he can give me a sidelong glare. “I would’ve come to kill Mr. Corporate if I had known where the two of you were. Instead I took it out on your dear Pops. He took it well, I have to admit. Like the tough guy he used to be. But, well, everyone has a time and a place. He won’t be able to walk out of here, I’m afraid. His knees are broken. But if you give me what I want, I’ll let him live.”
And then, just to illustrate his point, Lucio pulls a knife from his boot and cuts my father free from the chair. He slumps forward, teeters to the side, and just… slides… down, down, down until he is bent in some unnatural position on the floor.
I have to swallow down the bile that rises in my throat. Lucio Gori tortured my father. Killed him. The only man who ever took care of me. The only man I ever let take care of me.
“I was going to bargain with you, you know. At first. I figured I’d rough him up a bit and summon you. And when you came I’d bargain for his life. You for him. I’d keep you, the way it was always meant to be. And he’d walk away. But…” Lucio laughs and tsks his tongue loudly. “We’re way past that now. You kept me waiting.”
“I never got a summons,” I say, my voice weak with terror. Terror I haven’t experienced in ten years.
“How could you?” he growls. “You were out of town. Fucking that Mr. Corporate. Well, he’s not going to be around much longer either, Violeta. You will end up with me in the end. Ruined and broken just the way I like you. But it’s too bad so many people will die because of your poor choices.”
I take a deep, deep breath and try to gather myself. He’s playing with me. My father starts gasping for air—he’s still alive!—when Lucio kicks him in the chest and makes him groan. It’s the half-hearted groan of an unconscious man.
“Let’s go on a date, Violeta. Huh? Just you and me?”
I double over trying to stop the sick from spewing out of my mouth.
Lucio is there, taking my hand, placing another one on my back as he says in a soft voice, “Come on now, you always liked our dates, remember? Remember how I forced my cock in your mouth? How I took your breath away?” He laughs so loud, it makes me jump.
He fists my hair and yanks my head back so hard, I hear a snap in the muscles that run along my shoulder. The pain shoots up into my head, right behind my eye. And even though I know I shouldn’t, I react. Years of training and practice have instilled instincts in me.
My hand reaches around his leg, right behind his ankle, and I squeeze. It’s not as effective as it could be if he didn’t have boots on. But it takes him by surprise, stuns him, just for a moment, and he is off balance. I grab his foot and yank it, making him fall. I fall on top of him, and then he’s yelling. The sound of thumping boots echoes in my head and I know I have only one chance to make it out of here alive right now.
I grab for the gun I know he keeps in the back of his pants and take it out, frantically searching for the safety—finding none—and pulling the trigger before I even think twice.
It’s an automatic, so three shots go off before I even realize what’s happening. People are shouting, Lucio is struggling, trying to wrench the gun from my hands. Plaster is falling from the ceiling from the wild gunshots.
“You bitch,” Lucio says, bringing his fist down on the back of my head. I see stars and things begin to go black, but I shake my head, the shooting pain behind my eyes even more acute. More piercing. He is trying to get the gun from my grip, but I know—I know—if he gets this gun, I am never leaving this bar. My father, regardless of how bad he’s hurt, will never recover.
I will lose. Lucio will kill me, or torture me, or take me as his little sex slave again.
“No,” I yell, just as more shooting comes from the other side of the curtain.
“Oh, yes,” Lucio purrs in my ear. He’s almost overpowered me, and every stupid little jujitsu move I’ve ever learned flies right out of my head. I am weak. I am not safe. I am nothing but Lucio Gori’s prize.
I elbow him in the kidney, making him back away, just enough for me to keep the gun from his hand, and I have no choice, I drop it, kick it away so he can’t get to it.
There is even more shooting out in the front of the bar now. Bullets come blasting through the thin walls of the back room. A bullet hits the chandelier and it comes crashing down, not more than a few feet from where Lucio and I still struggle.
People are screaming—no, I am screaming—but more people too. Women, those women who were having lunch. Men, the ones playing pool, maybe even the bartender. Everyone is screaming.
And then I hear a voice.
Oh, God, no!
“Victoria!” West calls. “Can you hear me?”
“I’ve got her,” Lucio says. And he does. Our brief struggle ends when he throws me face down on the hard concrete floor and steps on my neck.
And then everything happens at once. West appears, throwing the curtain aside. Lucio has another gun, not the one I kicked away, and he shoots. West disappears again. Lucio presses on the tender vertebrae between my shoulders and I know, just a little more pressure and my neck will snap. I will die like this. I will die his victim.
No!
I twist my body when Lucio pulls the trigger and break free. I grab his ankle again, and use all the remaining strength I have to pull…
Lucio goes down, West is there, Mysterious and Match are there. Everyone has a gun but me.
Everyone is going to get their chance to kill this asshole but me.
I roll away, kicking Lucio in the face, making his lip bleed, making his nose gush hot, sticky, scarlet.
And I reach for the gun I threw away, my fingers feeling for it. Praying for it. Don’t let them have this moment. Don’t let anyone take this away from me. I want to kill Lucio Gori myself. I want a taste of that rage he has always felt. I want to harness all the hate I have and be the last thing he sees when I take his life.
I find the cold, hard steel of the gun and then…
And then…
I feel warm fingers grasping my hand. I turn to look and find my father, lying on the dirty floor, covered in caked blood and bruised almost beyond recognition. He has managed to crawl over to us and there’s a sick trail of crimson behind him.
He says, eyes closed shut from all the swelling and his voice low and weak, “Let me. It’s the only thing I want. Just… let… me…”
In the moment I take to pause and feel sadness, and loss, and regret, and all the other things that come to mind when your father is about to die…
He squeezes my hand. The hand that is holding the gun. And pulls the trigger.
I watch helplessly as Lucio Gori’s head explodes.