Chapter Two

Jillian

Finally. Lorenzo was at my mercy, tied to a chair in an all but destroyed office building that belonged to his father. It was almost poetic justice—killing him in his father’s place of business, leaving his bullet-riddled body as a macabre gift for the first unlucky person to walk through the door.

Damon stood beside me, silently giving his support while also acting as my personal bodyguard. The air surrounding him held complete confidence. Nothing about our situation gave him even a moment of hesitation. Carrying out family business came as easily to him as breathing. Had I asked him, he would’ve put a bullet between Lorenzo’s eyes without blinking. We would’ve already been on our way back home—wherever that would be for the day—and we’d never have to speak of it again.

But I wouldn’t ask him to finish what I’d started.

Carrie and I planned to turn Lorenzo’s dead body over to Damon to collect the reward offered on the dark web; that was originally why we set up the whole rouse. She wanted to prove herself to the family, and I did as well, but in my own way. She once asked me if I was sure I wanted to kill Lorenzo, but small, telltale signs after we had that conversation told me she didn’t believe I would see it through. The more we talked about it, the more she changed the plan from our original idea. The closer we got to actually executing the plan, the more she pushed the idea of trapping Lorenzo, giving him to Damon, and cashing in on the bounty instead executing him ourselves.

But I didn’t care about the money. When we talked about what we’d do, I didn’t push my agenda on her once I realized her hesitation with it. My plans were my own, and I kept my cards well hidden. She could get whatever money she wanted out of Damon, but Lorenzo’s life was mine. It had been since the day he murdered my mother, even if he didn’t know. Even if everyone in my life thought I was too weak to actually carry out the dirty deed.

Maybe I was at one time.

But I promised myself I’d never be weak again. I promised my mother her killer would pay for what he’d done as I stood over her grave the day I buried her, the tears pouring out of my eyes and mixing with the raindrops from the torrential storm that raged around me.

Without saying a word, I passed Damon’s gun back to him. He gave me a perplexed look, questioning my intentions, but I had other plans before I outright killed Lorenzo. Carrie wasn’t kidding when she said she’d trained for years to fight. She had a small arsenal of weapons, so I helped myself to her brass knuckles. They were illegal, but she didn’t let that little inconvenience stop her from owning several pairs. The ones I chose for Lorenzo were actually made out of cast iron, perfect for inflicting more damage and adding extra pain to my punch.

Lorenzo watched as I slipped them over my knuckles and squeezed the palm grip. His gaze drifted up to mine, and for a moment, I could’ve sworn I saw a hint of admiration in his eyes.

“You know, when tough guys use those in movies, they make it look so easy. But the reality is very different. You’ll break your fingers if you try to throw a straight-on punch with them on.” Lorenzo spoke calmly, but I sensed a hint of sadness in him. I didn’t get the feeling that was because of what I was about to do to him, though.

“You don’t speak to her.” Damon grabbed Lorenzo’s face, squeezing and shaking Lorenzo’s jaw as he spoke through gritted teeth. “I will rip your fucking throat out if you utter one wrong word.”

Damon released him with a violent snap of his wrist, making Lorenzo’s head jerk to the side. When Lorenzo turned his gaze back to Damon’s, there was no anger or hatred in it. But his confident mask had dissolved, revealing his vulnerability.

Lorenzo nodded at Damon. “You don’t have to do this, you know. There’s a better way to handle this problem, Damon.”

“Better than blowing your head off? This, I’ve got to hear.”

Lorenzo drew in a deep breath, straightening his back as he inhaled. “We could work together.”

“Why the fuck would I ever work with you on anything?” I stepped forward, piercing him with the daggers flying from my eyes. “Why do you think you deserve to live after you murdered my mother?”

He looked to Damon and lifted one eyebrow. Damon nodded, giving Lorenzo permission to speak to me. “Choose your words wisely. If you upset her, you’ll lose your fucking tongue.”

“Jillian, I didn’t kill your mother.”

“You ordered your men to do it because you didn’t have the balls to do it yourself. But I do have the balls to kill you for issuing the order, though.”

“I also didn’t order my men to kill her. My father did, no matter how hard I fought against his decision.”

“You’d better start from the beginning and explain exactly what you mean. Tell me everything, or I swear to God, you’ll wish you were dead before I finish with you. You’re the one who gave me the ultimatum to kill Damon or you’d kill my mother.”

“Yes, I did do that, but just hear me out. My father has been trying to start an all-out war for some time now. He wants huge shootouts in the street between our families. He wants a show of brute force that resonates through every borough and daily media coverage of our battles. The bigger, the better. When he positions the Sanfratello family just right, he has a plan to annihilate all of the Marchetti family.

“One step in that plan was to take Damon out of the picture, one way or another. You were a convenient target that day my father’s men shot at you two on the street. They were supposed to hit Damon, but make it look like they were after you. That way, Damon getting hit in the cross fire could be explained away.

“My threat to you was supposed to make you run back to Louisiana to be with your mother, knowing Damon would follow you. He assumed responsibility for your safety the first time you were seen with him, and my father knew that. Dad said Damon would go after you, at least long enough to set his Sanfratello takeover plans in motion. That’s what Dad told me, anyway. I found out too late to do anything about his plans to kill you and your mother when you arrived. That order never came from me, Jillian.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“The Underboss and Consigliere of my family just walked out, leaving me here to die. They want you to kill me for several reasons. First, it’ll validate the war they’re going to wage against the Marchettis anyway. But it’ll ensure the smaller factions side with them.

“There are very few laws we follow outside of our own code of honor. Killing a made man is one of those laws we just don’t break. A Marchetti-sanctioned hit on me would guarantee other families would align with my father because they wouldn’t trust the Marchetti name anymore.”

“And the second reason?”

“Second, they already knew I was running that scam, taking money from our own men and our allies. Do you really think my father cares about that? He only used it as leverage against me because it fits his cause. I’ve been saving that money for the past year, squirreling away as much as possible, because I’ve been planning my getaway. That money was my ticket out of this life. They’re using it as a flimsy excuse to leave me here with you—like they don’t take money from everyone they know.”

Lorenzo dropped his eyes to the floor, and I stood there staring at him, my mind reeling from all he’d shared. How could I doubt what he was telling me? He knew I was hell-bent on killing him. He had nothing to lose by telling me the truth now. But then, on the other hand, how could I believe him? He could very well try to play me by feeding me lies and half-truths until I let him walk away.

He looked lost. He looked as if his best friend had died. He looked as if he’d just experienced the ultimate betrayal in his life.

If what he said was the truth, then I supposed he had also felt the bitter sting of betrayal. His own father sacrificed him for a chance to be the area’s mafia king. Geno was ruled by blind ambition and ruthless intentions. Even his own son wasn’t given advance warning or the least bit of protection.

How could I possibly know fact from fiction? How could I know with absolute certainty he had told me the truth? How could I let him live with even the slightest possibility that he was the one responsible for murdering my mother?

I cut my eyes to Damon to gauge his reaction to the overload of information. His expression was passive, giving nothing away about his inner thoughts. Whether he believed Lorenzo wasn’t part of the equation. In his mind, Lorenzo was a Sanfratello, and all Sanfratellos were the enemy.

That wasn’t good enough for me.

Then I looked at Carrie, hoping she’d be an easier book to read than her older brother was. How I’d ever missed the signs before that moment was beyond me. Maybe my own path to vengeance had blinded me to everything else. Maybe keeping my secret plans for the meeting with Lorenzo had prevented me from seeing she had her own secrets.

The one and only fact I was certain of was that Damon had no clue whatsoever.

Everyone had so many fucking secrets. Their world seemed to create them out of the blue.

“And reason number three why they want you dead is because they found out you’re secretly in love with a Marchetti, right? They knew part of your escape plan included taking her with you—and that would hurt the Sanfratellos more than it would the Marchettis. With your father making a bid for top dog, his son running off with a member of the rival family would cast a lot of doubt on his ability to manage his family.”

Dead silence filled the room.

“I’m right, aren’t I, Carrie?”

She wouldn’t look at me.

Lorenzo wouldn’t look at me.

Damon couldn’t look at me. He couldn’t stop his eyes from darting back and forth between Carrie’s and Lorenzo’s faces, waiting for one of them to crack.

Pieces of the puzzle that never fully made sense began to fall into place. Carrie’s change of heart over trapping Lorenzo with the intent to kill him was the main one. She said she wanted to make Damon pay us the fee he’d posted on the dark web, but she had plenty of her own money. She ran her own illegal schemes and had stolen more than enough money through insider trading and blackmail. She didn’t need the chump change Damon offered in comparison.

“Did you think the two of you would run away together when we came here tonight, Carrie? Was that your plan all along?”

Lorenzo looked at Carrie, hope brimming in his eyes and anticipation covering his features. “Is she right, Carrie?”

“Hold up just a fucking minute!” Damon bellowed, running his fingers through his hair with one hand and pointing his gun at Lorenzo with the other. “Just wait a goddamn minute. Are you saying this is true? You’ve been sleeping with my sister?”

“Put the gun down, Damon.” Carrie stepped between Damon and Lorenzo, her hands on her hips and a stern expression on her face.

“Yes, Damon, put the gun down. You know better than to point it at your sister.” The deep, commanding voice bellowed from the entryway, causing all four of our heads to jerk in that direction.

Vincenzo and Uncle Leo had joined our spontaneous gathering. While Damon’s, Carrie’s, and Lorenzo’s eyes were glued to the Boss and Underboss of the family, I turned my attention back to Lorenzo. He wasn’t breathing at all. He’d completely frozen in place, as if instantly changing into a statue would save him from the Marchetti family members who quickly surrounded him. The intense fear radiating from him was palpable because he knew his life was over. He had a chance of talking his way out of the situation by appealing to Damon and me. But not Vincenzo.

“Daddy.” Carrie’s one-word plea escaped on a whisper, but Vincenzo didn’t miss it.

“Carrie, what exactly did you think would come of this relationship? Did you think I’d give you two my blessing?” Vincenzo leveled his penetrating gaze on his daughter, expecting her to give an answer.

“No, sir. I never thought you’d give us your blessing.” The daring, confident woman I’d grown to know transformed into a fearful child, afraid she’d disappointed her father beyond repair.

“No, you knew better, didn’t you? So, what was your plan, then? To run away with him, leave your family behind, break your mother’s heart?”

“I didn’t think of it that way, to be honest. All I wanted was to be happy.”

Vincenzo appeared taken aback by her admission. He hadn’t expected that response. The doting father in him wanted his daughter to be happy. The rigid boss in him didn’t want her to be happy with a Sanfratello. The man in him was conflicted about which of his sides should win the argument playing out in his mind.

“You’re my niece, Carrie, and you know I’ve loved you like one of my own kids since the day you were born. So believe me when I say, you’ll be happy. Just not with him. Get up, Lorenzo. You’re coming with us.” Leo stepped toward Lorenzo, ready to use excessive force if necessary to make Lorenzo leave with him.

I could almost hear Carrie’s heart break as the tears ran down her cheeks, but she stood motionless in place. Damon was conflicted—he was visibly upset over his sister’s broken heart, and he wanted to protect her. But his position in the family wouldn’t allow him to act on his feelings.

Vincenzo. Damon. Carrie. All three wished for a different outcome, another way to handle the conflict before us, but none was willing to break the shackles of their family laws that held them prisoner.

Then I felt it—the flutter in my lower abdomen. My babies, warm and secure inside me, perfectly happy in their own little world.