Desiree

“There’s a man involved. I know there’s a man involved.” My coworker and friend Lucy bumps my hip with hers. I’ve been back at work for two days, still staying Junior’s place at night to check on Gio. And have hot sex.

I took Gio’s IV out, and he’s just in rest and recuperate mode—sitting up, watching television, eating and drinking normally. His recovery looks good.

It feels weird to be back at the hospital—like I was gone for a month instead of just a week. Lucy’s been asking a million questions about my mystery job.

Because, yeah. I’m not ready for this tryst to be over.

“How do you know?” I laugh.

“I can just tell. You have that freshly-laid look. Like you’ve been getting some. And more than just once.”

I grin.

“Seriously, you can tell when a woman starts having a lot of sex. Her skin gets brighter, her mood is lighter. It’s the release of nitric oxide.”

“Oh really?” I give her a doubtful look.

“Look it up. It’s true.”

“Okay, yes, there’s a man involved. But it’s a fling. Nothing permanent or serious,” I say firmly, like I’m willing myself to believe it.

“We’ll see,” Lucy sings as a patient’s buzzer rings and she scurries off.

I smile after her, feeling all warm and glowy when I really shouldn’t. But it’s been fun, coming into work and then going “home” to Junior.

Submitting to his unrestrained sexual demands and receiving everything in return. He insists on dropping me off and picking me up from work.

I should see it as controlling, but instead I feel loved.

Like he can’t stand to be away for even the extra thirty minutes it would take me to drive myself. Or like he’s so protective he doesn’t want me walking in the parking lot alone. He actually voiced the latter to me even though I told him the only jerks waiting in the parking lot belong to him.

“Desiree.” His deep voice cuts through my thoughts as if he’s actually here.

Oh shit, he’s actually here! And I still have four hours left on my shift.

“Junior, what are you doing here?” I glance around, hoping my boss is nowhere near. I do not need to get busted for this, especially after being “out sick” for a full week.

He looks stony serious. It’s the look he used to always wear, but I’d forgotten it in the past few days. “Desiree, get your shit, we need to go.”

I frown. “Junior, I can’t. I’m working. What is it? Is it Gio?” His brother’s been doing so well, I’d be shocked to hear he’s had another relapse.

He shakes his head. “It’s Jasper. I know where he is. Come on, let’s go get him.”

My heart shifts into highest gear. “Oh my God, are you serious? Where?”

“Indiana. Come on, we can make it by five if we leave now.”

“I’ll be right back,” I say, already dashing off to find my boss. I know she’s going to flip out with my absenteeism, but this can’t wait. At least she already knows about my personal problems. I burst into tears telling her and she hugs me. “Go. Personal emergency. I’ll find someone to come in.” She shoos me away. “Bring that baby back home.”

“I will,” I promise, still weeping. I run back down the hall to where Junior’s waiting for me and take his hand.

And then my brain just sort of shuts off. Because I can’t wait the five hours until we get there. And I can’t think about anything else.

Fortunately, Junior seems to understand. Is totally capable in this situation. He drives the Maserati like we’re in the Daytona 500 and gets us the hell out of Illinois.

Junior

Desiree’s ex picked up a construction job in Indianapolis under some other guy’s social security number. I don’t know how the P.I.s found him, but they did. Jasper seems to be fine—enrolled in kindergarten. Stays for aftercare. Gets picks up and dropped off on the regular. No signs of mistreatment.

Thank fuck.

And I’m still going to kill the figlio di puttana father.

No, not kill. Desiree doesn’t want that. But I’m sure as hell gonna teach him a fucking lesson. Nobody messes with someone I care about without serious consequences.

My plan is to get to the school before Jasper gets picked up, but we get hung up in traffic on the way out of the city, so I don’t think we’ll get there before five.

On the way, my phone rings. It’s Nico.

“Hey, little bro.”

“Not little,” he claims.

“That’s not what your wife says.”

If he were talking to one of our other brothers, he’d tell me where to fuck myself, but as oldest, I’ve always demanded the same respect from my brothers they give our pops, so he just grunts.

“You’re on speaker and Desiree’s in the car,” I warn, in case he was going to talk business. We’re careful about what we say on phones, anyway, but it’s worth telling him.

“Hi, Desiree.”

“Hi.” She turns to me and whispers, “Which brother is it?”

“It’s Nico,” I tell her.

“Yeah, Nico. Sorry. I just talked to Gio. He sounds good.”

“Yes, looks like he’ll make a—”

“Not over the phone,” I cut her off.

She snaps her lips shut. “Right.”

“What’s up?” I bark at Nico. It’s not like him to call to chit-chat.

“Listen, I uh, have some news.”

“What news?” I’m already grouchy. I don’t like news. It’s never good. And Nico sounds nervous to tell me.

“Sondra and I are, uh...well, she’s pregnant.”

My stomach draws up under my ribs into a tight knot. I can’t breathe. This is good news. This should be good news he’s telling me.

Why does it feel like I just got sucker-punched?

“Oh yeah?” I force myself to speak. “Congratulations. How far along?”

“About twelve weeks.”

“Twelve weeks. Wow, you waited to tell people, uh?”

“Yeah. Well, Stefano knew, but we’re just telling the rest of the family now. I don’t know if it’s hard for you—”

“Shut up, Nico.” I cut him off, angry by his suggestion, even though it’s spot on. Maybe because it’s spot on. “Go give your wife a kiss from me. On the cheek, of course. Tell her congratulations and I can’t wait to meet my new niece or nephew, uh?”

“Okay, I’ll do that.” Nico sounds relieved. The fucker was worried about calling me. I don’t know why that pisses me off, too. Like people expect me to implode over a new baby in the family.

Just because I lost the only one this family’s had. You’d think out of five siblings, my ma would be wading in grandchildren, but to her sorrow, that hasn’t been the case.

“Congratulazioni, Nico. Ma’s gonna be over the moon.”

“Yeah, I know. You wanna tell Dad?”

“No, tell him yourself.”

“He still pissed at me?”

“If he was pissed, you’d know it. Have you not talked to him since you got married?” Last year Nico defied our father’s order to marry a girl from the Pachino family in a contract that was meant to tie the families and businesses together. It was my job to teach him a lesson for his disobedience.

Which kept me solidly in the position of most hated brother.

“No.”

“Call him up. All is forgiven. You paid the price, and it’s settled. I’m sorry you didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, well, things get lost in translation between the two of you sometimes.”

“Yeah and you’re pushing your luck, stronzo. You already got an apology out of me. Mark it on the calendar so we can remember this day in history.”

A surprised laugh comes out of Nico. I almost smile myself. It’s unheard of—me, making fun of myself.

Desiree slides a glance my way and her lips quirk, too. Her gaze is soft and warm, like she knows everything the conversation means to me and is sending me her support. This woman is something else.

As Nico hangs up, I reach over and squeeze her knee in a silent thank you.

Desiree

My stomach twists in knots the whole drive, hands ice cold. First, I couldn’t think at all, but as we pull into Indianapolis, a million thoughts swirl through my head. The major underlying anxiety runs along the lines of—what if he’s not there? What if we haven’t really found him? Or can’t take him when we get there?

“I was hoping we’d get here before Jasper gets picked up from the after school program at five,” Junior says.

I tilt my head, replaying his words in my mind, because my brain isn’t working straight.

He must see that I don’t understand, because he explains, “I don’t know, I thought it might be easier on him if you picked him up instead of his dad. And then we just drove off. But the school might not have released him.” Junior shakes his head. “It’s probably gonna be messy, no matter what.”

My eyes prick with tears of gratitude. I can’t believe how much thought he’s put into this—his consideration for Jasper. Junior may come off as a tough-guy meathead, but he’s way more. He’s nuanced. Sophisticated.

I remember how he slipped the girl in the cafe the money. It made me jealous—which was stupid—but part of my jealousy was over the thought and effort he put into the gesture.

He pulls up in front of a brick house. “This is it. That’s Abe’s truck.” He points to an old Ford F150 parked in front of us. “Abe rents the basement.”

He parks the car and pulls a gun out of a holster next to his seat.

My brain finally kicks into gear. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. What are you doing?”

He pauses but raises his brows like he doesn’t understand the question.

“You’re not bringing a gun in there.” I point toward the house. “My six-year-old kid is in there. And Abe is his father.”

Junior sighs.

“No. Guns,” I say firmly.

A new set of fears suddenly comes crashing around me. Junior and Abe. This isn’t going to go well. That’s part of why he thought picking Jasper up from school would be better. Junior is one hundred percent alpha male, which means he’s going to have to piss all over Abe.

Not that Abe doesn’t deserve it, but things could get messy here, really fast. And I don’t need messy. I just want to get my son and get out of here.

I want to either burst into tears or puke as we walk up the sidewalk, then down the steps to the basement door. Junior’s expression is hard, eyes dead. A shiver runs down my spine. “Maybe you should wait in the car,” I tell him when we get to the door.

He goes still, studying me, then draws back a half a step and angles his back against the brick wall. “I’ll be right here,” he says, folding his arms over his chest.

His position as bodyguard reassures me. I draw a deep breath and knock on the door.

Abe’s stupid enough to swing the door wide without looking out the peephole first. When he gets over his surprise at seeing me, he tries to shut it again, but I launch myself through the doorway. He slams the door back, and clocks me in the head and shoulder.

My vision bleeds black as pain explodes at the points of impact.

Junior surges into motion like a dark, avenging angel. I’m still seeing stars as he kicks the door open like we’re in a movie, simultaneously propelling me into the basement apartment.

“Mommy!” Jasper yells and then I really can’t see, because my vision goes blurry with tears.

Jasper and I both cry, strangling each other with hugs. It takes me a minute to realize how bad the situation got. Just feet from us, Junior’s brawling with Abe.

No, make that beating the shit out of Abe. The crack of bone on bone splits the air and Abe’s body flies past us, crashing into the coffee table with a sickening thud.

Jasper screams.

Abe groans, but tries to get up.

Junior stalks over, picks him up by his shirt and punches his bloody face.

“Junior.”

Junior ignores me, punching Abe again and again.

“Junior!” I scream.

I don’t want Jasper to see this. Any of it.

I also don’t want to put him down or out of my sight, even for a second. Ever again. But I need to stop Junior before he kills Abe.

I scream his name again, then body check him with my shoulder, my son still wrapped up tight in my arms.

When he glances at me, his expression chills me to the bone. There’s nothing there. No life at all. He’s cold. Deadly. Dangerous.

He must see the fear in my face, though, because the horrifying mask disintegrates, and then he’s the Junior I know. His brows drop, forehead wrinkles in concern.

I realize I’m still bawling. “Junior, no,” I beg. “Stop this. Right now.”

He looks at Abe who can barely move on the floor, then back at me and his expression clouds, like he realizes what he’s done. “Fanculo,” he mutters, scrubbing a hand over his face. His knuckles are swollen and bloody.

Abe can’t seem to get up. Jesus, Junior did some damage. What if he’d brought the gun in?

Ice sluices through my veins.

I know what would’ve happened.

My son’s father would be dead right now.

How far from reality did I drift that I thought bringing a violent mobster on the most important errand of my life with me would end well? And now, as if Jasper hasn’t been traumatized enough by his kidnapping, he will be forever scarred by seeing his father brutally assaulted by his mother’s boyfriend.

Not okay.

Not in any realm or reality.

I fish my phone out of my purse. I need to take charge of this situation and do what’s right. “I’m calling an ambulance,” I mutter.

“Don’t,” Junior warns.

“You don’t get to make this decision,” I snarl at him.

The color drains from his face. He takes a step back and his eyes go dead again.

I carry Jasper into his bedroom while I make the 911 call, then hang up and set him down. “You’re coming home with Mommy now. I missed you so much, Jasper.” I drop to my knees and give him another bear hug.

“I missed you, too, Mommy.” His little voice kills me. So sweet. So precious to my ears.

“What do you want to pack to bring along? Any special toys or stuffed animals?” He has a favorite pillow he was terribly attached to at home. I cried into it at least a dozen times, wondering how he was sleeping without it.

“I’ll bring Mr. Dragon.” He picks up a rainbow-colored stuffed dragon.

“Anything else?”

He shakes his head. “I just want to go home.”

Ugh. I moved after his dad took him from me because I needed to downgrade to afford the P.I. I’m not going to tell Jasper that now, though.

I pick him up again and carry him into the living room as the sirens approach the house.

Junior’s standing in the open door, waiting for the swarm of cops and paramedics who stream into the little apartment.

As the second shit-storm of the night rolls in, I realize I probably made a huge mistake.

Junior

The cops throw me face down and cuff me as soon as they arrive, even though I offer no resistance. I expected this kind of treatment, though. I just didn’t want Desiree or her boy to have to see it.

Cristo, I fucked up.

Big time.

I already wanted to throttle her stronzo ex for what he put her through taking the boy, but when I saw him smash the door into her face, I relished killing him.

But not in front of her. Not in front of the boy. I should’ve pulled back. Or pulled him out of the apartment. I don’t know. I should’ve done something different.

Because now I’m sure I’ve lost Desiree. The horror and condemnation on her face make it clear.

“Well, look here,” one of the two beat cops who showed up drawls. “Driver’s license says this is Santo Tacone, from Chicago. Wouldn’t be related to the Don Tacone sitting in a Federal Prison right now, wouldya?”

I don’t answer.

It earns me a swift kick to the ribs. Fine. Local cops want to be heroes and give me a beat-down, they’re welcome to it. I probably deserve it for what I’m putting Desiree through.

After a few more bruising kicks, the other cop, who was interviewing Desiree, snaps, “What the fuck are you doing?”

“He was resisting arrest,” the first cop says.

“You got a room full of witnesses, dumbshit,” he says, which is true. The tiny apartment also has three paramedics in it, as well as Desiree and Jasper. “And seriously—I don’t think you wanna fuck with this guy.” He hooks an arm under mine and tugs, helping me off the floor and to my feet.

“Are you kidding? We got Santo Tacone, Jr. on something solid. Assault and battery. No way we’re not taking this as far as we can.”

“Let him go,” Desiree storms. “He was just protecting me.” I’m more than a little relieved that she’s defending me, although I’m not stupid enough to think it changes things. Clearly she didn’t see this coming. She hasn’t been on the wrong side of the law her whole life, like I have.

The first cop looks confused.

“It was self-defense.” The second cop unlocks my handcuffs.

I have to hide my shock. But this could be the classic Good Cop, Bad Cop play.

“Are you kidding me? He put that guy in the hospital,” Bad Cop says.

“So he got a little aggressive. I’d be hot, too, if someone hit my girlfriend and kidnapped her child.”

I keep my mouth shut. I know better than to ever say a word in front of law enforcement.

The paramedics wheel Abe out on a stretcher. Good Cop speaks into his radio.

Bad Cop narrows his eyes. “You’re scared of this guy. Wait—you’re from Chicago, aren’t you?”

“I grew up in Tacone territory, yeah. What I remember mostly is they kept the streets safe. So, no. I don’t have a hard-on for putting a guy away who was acting hero for his girlfriend.”

I give the guy my full attention now, studying him, checking the name on his badge—John Badger.

“Badger Hardware,” I say, when the name comes to me. A locally-owned hardware store in Cicero, before Home Depot and Lowes put the small guys out of business. Actually, that store’s still there, a throwback to older times.

Good Cop’s face splits into a grin. “Yep. That’s my uncle’s place. It’s still around.”

“It sure is,” I say.

Good Cop’s phone rings and he answers it, stepping outside.

Bad Cop glowers at me.

I keep still.

Desiree’s pacing around the tiny apartment, still holding Jasper in her arms, picking up his clothes and toys and throwing them in a plastic bag. Every so often I hear her sniff, which completely guts me.

The kid, too, looks traumatized. He has a death grip on his mother’s neck, face tucked in like he doesn’t want to see any of what’s going on.

Good Cop comes back and addresses Desiree. “All right, I have confirmation of your story. Police records in Cook County show you have full custody of Jasper and the father abducted him from you. You are free to take him home.”

“Thank you.” Desiree glances in my direction without quite looking at me. “What about him?”

“He’s free to go, too.”

“Are you nuts?” Bad Cop snarls.

Good Cop holds his hand out to me and I shake it, relieved that for once, my family and my name won me a favor instead of lost it for me.

My dad did some things right.

He operated by a code of ethics, just outside the law. He made his own law.

But this isn’t a win, by any means. Desiree turns and walks out the door without ever meeting my eye and I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that we’re over.