Honor (Made Book 1) Page 8

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. It’s only a few more hours until closing. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  Her head cocked to the side with an arched brow. I ignored her, spinning her around and shoving her back toward the exit. “Go. You’re killing my tips.”

  “I’m not dressed.” She ran a hand over her hair, looking down at her clothes.

  “You look beautiful,” Gabe interjected, standing from his seat.

  Her eyes flashed to his. “Don’t lie to me, De Luca. That’s no way to start a date,” she warned. The woman couldn’t just take the compliment.

  He held his palms out in front of him. “Never.”

  She nodded, as if satisfied. “Let me just get my purse.” She turned, strutting toward the kitchen, Gabe following her ass with his eyes the whole way until she disappeared behind the swinging door.

  He slouched against the bar, elbow propped on the edge, smiling to himself.

  “You sure you can handle that?” I asked, already feeling sorry for the man. My sister had always been headstrong and independent. She took shit from nobody, a Leoni trait we all seemed to be blessed with.

  He shook his head. “Nope. But I’m sure as hell gonna try.” He straightened, clearing his throat to look at me. “You know, respectfully so. I know she’s your sister. I wouldn’t—”

  I put up my hand, stopping him. “You gonna treat her right?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then, we’re good.”

  I followed Tony out of the restaurant, hitting the lights as we went.

  “Night, boss,” he said, giving me a clap on the shoulder as he started his hike to the subway.

  “Later, Tony. Thanks for your help tonight,” I hollered over my shoulder, pulling the door closed behind me. He gave me a single wave without glancing back.

  I used the spare set of keys Gia had left me to lock the place up. My phone vibrated in my pocket. I fished it out, answering the call as I double checked the door.

  “Zio.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Just closing up Leoni’s. What’s going on?”

  “I’m five minutes away. I’ll pick you up.”

  The line went dead. I shoved it back in my pocket, then waited against the side of the building. When Uncle Manny’s black Chrysler pulled to a stop in front of me, I glanced around before climbing into the passenger seat.

  He pulled away from the curb without saying a word.

  “You gonna tell me where we’re going?”

  He glanced at me, then slid his eyes back to the road. “We got a job to do.”

  The car ride was silent the rest of the drive, other than the sounds of big band music playing on the radio, Manny’s thumb tapping on the steering wheel to the beat, and his periodic whistling. Thirty minutes later, we were driving through Hell’s Kitchen, pulling into the docks.

  Manny slowed the car to a stop, facing the front end toward the Hudson. He shifted it into park, shutting off the headlights. Reaching across me, he opened the glove box, pulling out two pairs of gloves and a nine-millimeter. Tossing me a set, he pulled on the other pair and shoved the gun in the back of his waistband.

  “You any good with a knife?” he asked as I pulled on my own gloves.

  Eric was adamant about training us to be able to defend with any weapon. I was as deadly with a knife as a gun. “I’m decent.”

  He nodded, pulling one out and handing it to me. I tucked it in the back of my jeans, pulling my shirt down to conceal it.

  “You gonna tell me what the job is?” I asked.

  “No.”

  I snorted a half-chuckle, settling back into the seat. Uncle Manny had never been much of a talker, which suited me for the moment. I surveyed the scene around us. The docks were mostly empty other than a late-night crew working in the distance at the shipping yard. The adrenaline rush I’d first felt increased with every silent minute that passed.

  His phone vibrated. He answered without a word, then hung up, turning over the ignition and flicking the headlights back on.

  “Change of plans?”

  “Nope. We just got the location.”

  “The location? I thought this was it.”

  “Nah, I just like the view. Reminds me of the good ole days.” He smirked.

  I laughed silently, shaking my head as he pulled back onto the street, heading south, then west through the Lincoln Tunnel, en route to Jersey.

  Manny parked the car on a street in Greenville. I waited until he opened his door before getting out myself, then followed a few steps behind him, keeping my eyes peeled as we crossed the street toward a run-down two-story home. Most of Jersey had been gentrified in the last few years, much like Brooklyn, but it seemed this neighborhood was still in dire need of a facelift.

  At the top of the porch steps, I waited with my back turned where I had visibility of the street and my uncle as he knocked on the front door.

  “It’s about fucking ti—” the man inside grumbled as he opened the door. Catching sight of my uncle, he moved quickly to slam it shut. But not quickly enough.

  Manny threw his weight against the door, squeezing between the gap, shoving hard, sending the guy stumbling backward onto his ass.

  “What’s wrong Tommy? Expecting someone else?”

  Tommy, the greasy-haired guy who looked to be in his mid-twenties, did a crab crawl across the stained carpet away from the door as we both stepped inside.

  I scanned the street one more time before closing the door behind us, standing in front of it with my back straight and arms crossed. The stench of stale cigarettes and old takeout attacked my nose. The room was dimly lit by a table lamp in the corner and a muted television. A beat-up shit brown recliner sat in the middle of the room, parked directly across from a coffee table littered with pizza boxes, soda cans, a laptop, and a crack pipe, among other drug paraphernalia.

  “Manny…” Tommy’s voice cracked on a plea, forcing my attention back to him. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

  “Funny. Because I’ve been calling you for weeks now. Went by your apartment. Checked with your friends. Yet, you were nowhere to be found. Disappeared overnight, they said. Figured it was only a matter of time before your cracked-out pussy ass would need another hit.” Manny stepped over him, his eyes cold as he pulled out the nine-millimeter. “Did you really think you could hide?” he asked, shaking his head with an amused grin. “Nobody buys drugs in this town without us knowing.” He lowered to a squat, tapping the barrel of the gun against Tommy’s temple, causing him to flinch. “For a smart kid, you sure are fucking stupid. Where is it?”

  “It…it’s not ready.” Tommy closed his eyes, shielding his face, preparing for a blow that didn’t come.

  Manny’s eyes slowly fell closed. He took a few exaggerated deep breaths, then flicked them back open and stood upright.

  Tommy relaxed a moment too soon.

  Manny’s arm flew out, connecting with Tommy’s skull. The sounds of pounding flesh and bone harmonized with Tommy’s howls as Manny continued to strike him with his gunned fist.

  Tommy curled in on himself, using his arms to cover his head. “I’ll get it to you,” Tommy cried out through the blows that rained down on him. “I promise.”

  Manny halted mid-swing. Slowly poising himself, he pulled out a handkerchief from the inside pocket of his jacket, tentatively cleaning the blood that had splattered onto his gun.

  “I just need a couple more weeks,” Tommy stuttered out, wiping at the blood on his face. “Four tops.”

  “You have two,” Manny said with a bland expression, tucking the gun back into his waistband. “Next time, kid, I won’t be so kind.”

  Tommy’s head bobbed frantically. “It’ll be ready.”

  Manny reached into his pocket again, this time pulling out a dime bag. He tossed it on the floor near Tommy’s feet. “Consider that one on the house.”

  Tommy scrambled for it as Manny turned his back, walking to
ward me. “Let’s go.”

  I turned, opened the door, and waited for Manny to lead the way. Retrieving a lighter from his pocket, he lit the handkerchief on fire and dropped it in a trash can on the curb as we continued our trek back to the car. We both slid into our respective seats. Manny started the car and rolled down the window a few inches.

  “That was my favorite goddamn handkerchief,” he muttered, picking up a pack of Marlboros. With a cigarette tucked between his lips, he flicked the lighter.

  I remained silent. I didn’t know anybody other than Manny who even carried handkerchiefs anymore, much less had a favorite one.

  “It was your Great Uncle Alessio’s. Remember him?” he asked, taking a long puff.

  I shook my head as he blew the stream of smoke through his lips and out the cracked window.

  “Yeah. Figures. I guess you were still in diapers when the Westies popped him…” He took another hit. “Shit. Come to think of it, maybe you weren’t even born yet.” His thick eyebrows furrowed as he strolled down memory lane. “Damn.” He blew out a breath, shaking his head. “Time flies. Smoke?” He extended the pack toward me.

  “I’m good. Thanks.”

  “Probably a good idea. It’s a bad habit. This shit can kill you.” He took another long inhale, reveling in the taste of the tobacco, then shifted the car into drive and steered it back toward New York.

  8

  Lena

  With the harsh sun at my back, I lowered to my knees near another one of the large planters that lined the rooftop garden of our penthouse. My shirt clung to my skin with the beads of sweat rolling down my chest and back. I swiped at my brow, pushing a few loose hairs out of the way. Working the packed soil with a small gardening spade, I broke it apart, tightly gripping the handle through my gloves.

  “I don’t understand why you don’t just let the gardener handle that?”

  I paused at the sound of my father’s distant voice behind me, his shadow slowly coming into view with the sound of each of his footsteps. “Because I enjoy it. It relaxes me.” I continued to dig through the soil, pushing the dirt aside to make the perfect-sized hole.

  “If you’re doing all the work, what am I paying him for?”

  “He does plenty,” I defended, picking up another verbena planting, freeing it from its temporary container. I broke apart the roots on the bottom and placed it in the hole before infilling and packing the dirt loosely around the new plant.

  His hand landed on my shoulder, halting me. “You’re tense, mi cara.” His tone took on a feigned concern. “What’s going on?”

  “You mean besides being forced into marriage?”

  He sighed his annoyance, removing his hand, sliding both into his tailored slack pockets. “We aren’t discussing this again.”

  “I didn’t realize it was ever a real discussion,” I mumbled under my breath, then stood to face him. “Fine. Let’s discuss Mama, then. What happened to her?”

  “You already know.”

  I knew his version of the story. She left us, and a few years later, karma caught up to her when she died in a car accident. I wanted the truth, though. I’d wanted it for years, but never had the courage to ask, until Lorenzo’s comment the other night.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Believe what you want. I don’t have time for you acting like a petulant child.” He removed his left hand, glancing at the Van Cleef & Arpels watch on his wrist.

  It was absurd. He had no problem spending thousands on a watch, yet complained about what he paid the gardener for leaving a few plants behind at my request.

  “If you’re busy, please, don’t let me keep you, Papa.” I waved a hand toward the door that led into the penthouse.

  “You don’t want to anger me right now, Lena. Not after I found out you didn’t come straight home the other night when you left the club.”

  “A friend called.” The false words shot from my lips before I could think. It surprised me sometimes how easy it’d become for me to lie to him. The thought that I was more like him than my mother seeped in and unsettled my stomach.

  “And you couldn’t wait for Luca to drive you?”

  “I’m sorry. She was frantic after breaking up with—”

  “I don’t need the details,” he interrupted. “Don’t let it happen again,” he warned, effectively ending the conversation.

  I nodded, relieved he hadn’t required me to elaborate on my lie. I’d have to be more careful. Obviously, he’d recently enlisted the staff to keep an eye on me, no doubt at Lorenzo’s insistence.

  He glanced at the flowers near my feet, still needing to be planted. “Maybe schedule a massage if you’re that stressed.”

  I wanted to roll my eyes at his suggestion, but decided it would give me a legitimate excuse to disappear for a few hours.

  “I will, Papa.”

  My compliance made him smile slightly. “I’m leaving for a meeting and will be spending the evening with Ariana. Maybe you should give Lorenzo a call, schedule some time to spend together. It’s time you put your issues aside, don’t you think? Before the wedding.”

  I gave him a tight smile, knowing there was no way in hell I would without being forced. There was only one man I planned to make time for. Taking a step toward me, he kissed my forehead before leaving me alone once again.

  I sank back to my knees, fists tight, repeatedly plunging the blade of the shovel more forcefully into the dirt.

  “Tell me again,” I demanded, the grin on my face making my cheeks hurt. I was tucked against Mario’s side as we lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. My mood was much better now that I was in his arms again.

  He exaggerated a groan.

  My smile grew impossibly wider, a soft giggle escaping.

  I’d done as my father asked. I scheduled an appointment for a massage. Only, I’d purposely chosen to book it at The Vivian’s spa, a luxury hotel owned by none other than the Blackwoods, making it easy for Mario to meet me without much suspicion. After Luca had escorted me inside and left on a last-minute errand for my father, I called Mario from the hotel lobby phone. He’d shown up after my massage, already securing us a hotel room for the evening.

  “I’ve told you at least ten times in the last hour.”

  “I don’t care. Tell me again.”

  He raised the hand of his left arm, the one I had my head propped on in lieu of the pillows. Flexing his fingers, he spread them apart as he considered my request. I placed my much smaller palm to the back of his hand, lacing my fingers between his, one by one. He folded our fingers into a unified fist, and I admired how perfectly they fit together. My ring caught the light of the sun filtering through the sheer curtains that covered the large windows.

  I frowned, making a mental note to remove it the next time we met. With that image ruined, I tilted my head to look at him. He was even sexier looking in his post-coital state. I wanted to eat him alive. Darting my tongue out, I licked the scruff growing on his chin.

  His deep belly laugh filled the room. I squealed through my giggling when he swiftly rolled on top of me, pinning my hands above my head, our naked bodies quickly arousing once again.

  “One more time. Pleasssse,” I begged, pushing out my bottom lip in a playful pout.

  He nipped it with his teeth, then kissed it gently. “I know what you’re doing.”

  I ignored him. Whether he knew it or not, I needed this. I needed to live in our fantasy a little longer, needed to play it on repeat until it felt real. “Tell me where we would live.”

  “We will... It’s not a daydream, Lena. It’s our lives. It’s going to happen,” he said firmly.

  I smiled softly, lifting my head to steal a kiss.

  He finally yielded to my pleas with a grin. “We’ll have a house near the water—”

  “But there will be a garden,” I quickly added.

  “The biggest you’ve ever seen,” he said in mock seriousness. “So big, you’ll never run out of flowers to plant or weeds to pu
ll.” He kissed the tip of my nose and released my wrists, still propping himself on his elbows.

  “How many rooms?” I draped my arms over his shoulders as he began to cover me with gentle kisses—my cheek, chin, throat...

  “Five,” he whispered into my ear. “And I plan to fuck you in every single one of them.” He tugged at my earlobe with his teeth.

  “That’s a lot of space for just the two of us,” I pointed out, thoroughly intrigued by this new detail.

  “I don’t plan on it being just the two of us for long,” he informed me, lifting his head from my neck, a lopsided grin widening substantially. “We’ll fill it with all the babies I plan on making with you.” He dipped his head again, his warm lips causing my body to hum with anticipation.

  “There’s a flaw in your plan.” I struggled to speak, his attention making it hard to breathe.

  “Not possible,” he blithely went on, his lips continuing to my chest, my navel, my thighs, all the way down to my ankles and then back up the other side.

  “With kids, there won’t be much time for you to make love to me.”

  “We’ll find time.” He bent his head, latching onto my nipple with his mouth.

  I arched toward him, my fingers threading through his hair.

  He released it after a few more tentative flicks of his tongue. “Besides, I’ll have my mother and sister look after the kids if needed.”

  “It all sounds perfect,” I said softly as his face came back into view, our bodies perfectly aligned.

  His eyes assessed me for a moment. “It will be,” he assured me, brushing the backs of his fingers along the edge of my face, then slowly pushing inside me.

  I closed my eyes as we fell into our familiar rhythm and let myself live the dream.

  I shut off the shower, then reached for a towel. After drying off, I wrapped it around my hair and covered myself with one of the hotel robes.

  My stomach rumbled, feeling suddenly starved. I walked back into the room, finding Mario fully dressed, his back to me, his focus on my ring, which he held between his fingers in the light.