The Woman in the Back Room by Jessica Gadziala

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Sixteen

Alessa

 

 

 

I took a shower as Santi and Brio got ready to roll out, then made my way out into the main area to grab some much-needed coffee.

To find Salvatore standing in the kitchen with an amber bottle of cleaning liquid and a rag. As soon as he saw me, he made several deliberate squirts of the solution onto the island, giving me a knowing look, his lips curving up into the smallest of smirks.

"Really important to keep the common surfaces clean," he said, making a show of scrubbing the island where, admittedly, my naked ass had sat the night before.

In my defense, it had been high on my priority list to come out and wipe everything down we might have touched the night before.

Salvatore just so happened to beat me to it.

"You never know what kind of filthy, nasty things can happen on them," he added, smile breaking out a bit more.

"Ha ha," I said, shaking my head at him as I moved toward the coffee pot.

"I am just teasing," he said. "Well, partially. Fucking on the counter does require some actual cleaner afterward. But it's good," he decided, shrugging. "I think you two work. Hell, you've practically been a family since you moved in."

"Sh," I demanded, sure I heard Avi stirring in his room. My gaze flew down to the floor, not wanting any of our scattered clothing to be found by Avi, not sure what kind of explanation I could give for something like that.

"Brio took care of it," Salvatore explained.

"Oh, okay. Good," I said, going toward the coffee pot, trying not to be embarrassed. We were all adults. They, arguably, had much more sex than I likely did. Sure, Salvatore had been away for a long time. But it sounded like he was more than making up for lost time. He claimed that chicks dug the idea of being his first post-prison fuck. Never mind that he slipped that line to all of them.

"Anywhere else I need to sanitize?" Salvatore asked, smirking as he held up the rag and spray bottle.

Damnit, there was.

"There," I mumbled, waving my hand toward the counter where Santi had leaned against with me in front of him. "Then that's it," I added as he set to work cleaning. "Salvatore," I called.

"Yeah?"

"We're not saying anything to Avi," I told him, tone serious.

"Don't typically go around telling the spawn who their parents are fucking. But I'll be extra careful. Know the situation is delicate."

"Yeah," I agreed, belly flip-flopping over the idea of him hearing the news, then flipping out, thinking I was trying to take his mom's place or something.

Time felt like it was moving slowly for me, but it hadn't been very long since the poor kid first got the news.

It had been, what, two and a half months only. Something like that. It was way too soon for him to see his dad with someone else. Especially since he didn't know his parents weren't technically together.

Besides, we weren't sure what we were yet. It was new. Like brand new. We'd only had sex once for God's sake. We would need some time to talk and figure shit out.

Maybe it would only ever be one fuck.

There was no mistaking the way my stomach twisted at that idea, though.

Apparently, after a lifetime of wanting nothing but casual from men, I finally wanted something more than bodies satisfying needs, more than mutual physical pleasure.

Though, in the interest of full disclosure, there had definitely been some mutual pleasure, that was for damn sure. In fact, that might have been the best sex of my life. Because it was just good, sure, but also a part of me thought that the actual connection between us made it all that much better.

Maybe that was what people meant when they said sex was better with someone you loved.

I mean, not that I loved Santi. But I felt, you know, something. Affection, at the very least. Yeah, that worked. I definitely felt something soft like that toward him.

And, what's more, I liked the feeling. I wanted more of it.

I mean in bed with him post-sex the night before, with his body curled into mine, that had been in the top ten best moments of my life.

That said something, didn't it?

I didn't know what it said, or what it meant, or how to feel about any of it. But it was there. And it was worth exploring.

If we decided it was going somewhere serious, well, then we would have to do some thinking and talking. About and to Avi, sure, but also our Families.

Having been around them all more than Santi had as an adult, I felt it was pretty safe to say that it wasn't going to matter to them. Sure, my brothers might feel obligated to give Santi some words about treating me right. But everyone involved would know it was all bluster because unless Santi horribly abused me in some way, there was nothing they could really do to the brother of the Capo dei Capi.

Eventually, I was sure Santi would be promoted, too.

He had to start out like everyone else. I mean Lorenzo had even made him act as a bagman, going around and collecting the shy like some common soldier. But I think all of us in the know knew that it was all for show, something like good faith to the other capos and soldiers, to make them see that Santi was willing to put in the work like they'd all done.

After today, they'd know he went and made his bones too.

It was only a matter of time after that.

Suddenly, the books would be open, and he would climb rank fast.

Maybe he would be given a capo position.

But I was pretty sure Lorenzo would skip all that, and give him the most desirable of positions.

Because Santi had been out when Lorenzo took over, Emilio had been the one to get the underboss place. Rightfully so, if you asked me. The man had been loyal since childhood, and had paid his dues ten times over.

But there was still the consigliere position up for grabs.

Lorenzo didn't have a lot of other close friends or family members.

Sure, there were his guards like Christopher, but he was too far down in the chain of command.

And, of course, there was Brio.

But, let's face it, Brio's crazy ass didn't exactly scream "advisor" to anyone with a rational mind.

But Santi?

Santi would make an amazing consigliere. A rational, trusted friend, a voice of reason, one of the few people who would be allowed to argue with the boss.

On top of having been raised in the life, so he knew all the intricacies of it, he'd also been a successful businessman in his own right.

I liked the idea.

I was sure that once the others got used to him being around, got to know him better, they would all agree it was the perfect position for him.

And on a personal level, I liked it for him because it offered him—and Avi—more layers of protection. For all intents and purposes, if you fucked with a consigliere, you might as well have fucked with the boss. Hell, back in the nineties, some low-level drug-dealing associate had put hands on the consigliere at the time. He was hit shortly after.

Santi would have power and money and safety.

The perfect trifecta.

I mean, yes, if you wanted to be a pessimist, it also put a bigger target on his head when things were tense between the Five Families. But I was neither an optimist or a pessimist. I was a realist. And the reality was, no one was better suited to run the whole of the New York mafia than Lorenzo Costa. He was cool and collected and fair, but ruthless when necessary. I had no doubt that, eventually, after maybe a little more unrest and some possible bloodshed, that he would bring peace to the Families.

And at that point, Santi would be in the best possible position.

I wanted that for him.

And if I ever got the chance to make any casual comments about what a good, logical, trusted advisor Santi was, I would do it.

"You good?" Salvatore asked, snatching me out of my swirling thoughts, finding him watching me with lowered brows. "Been away for a bit, and I imagine I'm a little rusty when it comes to reading women, but seems like you got some shit on your mind."

"Just... Family stuff. Nothing too important," I explained.

"They'll be fine with it," he said, shrugging. "If it turns out that they need to," he clarified, "they will be good with it."

"Yeah," I agreed, filling a cup for him.

"You sure you're not just worried about Santi being out doing... business today?" he asked. "'Cause that would be normal too," he added.

"Well, I wasn't until now," I said, throwing a hand out in frustration.

"He'll be fine, babe," Salvatore assured me, sneaking some sugar into his coffee. "If for no other reason then he brought Brio with him. Brio could have his leg severed off, and would walk on his bloody stump just to be able to whack a crowbar across someone's head."

That was very true.

Santi was in good hands.

But still, now that he reminded me that I was supposed to worry about him, I was worrying about him.

And not just in a physical way. I was worried about what it was going to do to him mentally and emotionally to do a hit. Even a very justified one. Even when it was the person who'd murdered Avi's mom.

It was a big deal to kill someone.

It was part of being in the Family, though.

If you were around a member of one of them, it was one-hundred-percent guaranteed that they had blood on their hands. They had to. It was the only way in.

I had blood on my own. Granted, I had never set out to do a hit. And because, when it came down to it, it was my life or his. And I knew the sick son of a bitch would have likely raped me first. So I felt almost nothing when I lifted my arm, slid my finger to the trigger, and pulled.

It was me or him.

But for Santi, for most of the men in the Families, that wouldn't be the case. They would have to do their kills cold. Even if you had a reason, revenge you wanted to enact, the act itself was planned and detached.

I mean, unless you were Brio, who got joy out of it.

But most of us were slightly more sane than that.

"What are we having for breakfast?" Avi asked, still rubbing his eyes.

"Well, that depends."

"On?"

"If you're a traditionalist, or you like to step outside the box."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I mean, you could have some of the bagels Uncle Salvatore picked up. Or you can have cereal. You know, traditional breakfast foods. Or you can be adventurous and make a plate of Thanksgiving dinner leftovers."

"The potatoes were really good."

"Mashed?"

"Yeah."

"They're always good. Even when they're bad, they're good. You can't say that for many things aside from potatoes."

"Pizza," Avi interjected.

"True. Even bad pizza is pretty good," I agreed. "So, Thanksgiving for breakfast?" I asked, reaching into the fridge for the potatoes, stuffing, rolls, turkey, and gravy Celeste had sent home with them. "I think a proper grown-up would insist you have some of these green beans, though."

"But you're not one," Avi said, smile big, happy.

"Well, you've got me there. And, technically, there are some vegetables in the stuffing," I said, making plates for the two of us. "Salvatore, do you want any?"

"I've gained five pounds since I've been out," he said.

"Your words are saying no, but your eyes are saying yes. So it is a yes," I declared, making him a plate as well.

After that, things were normal.

We ate while talking about our Thanksgivings.

Salvatore took the dishes to the kitchen. And then, seeing that example, Avi had jumped up to help.

I understood why Santi and Brit had wanted to keep Avi away from the Family when they'd first found out they were expecting. No one wanted their child to be put at any additional risk. But watching how Avi interacted with all the men, picking up all their individual good habits, I saw how invaluable they were to his development.

Sure, you could argue that they weren't good people. They broke the law for a living. They hurt and even killed people. That said, though, most of the men I knew in the Families were honorable and good, they took care of their communities, they tried to set examples of good behaviors for their children.

Had Salvatore killed people?

Yes, of course.

But he also was loyal to the bone, he helped people without expecting anything in return, and he would lay down his life for you if it was needed.

Though, I hoped it would never be needed.

"Alright. I'm gonna sit outside the door," Salvatore said, drying his hands. "Since we're a little short-staffed until one of the other guys shows up."

"Alright, sounds good," I agreed. "We're probably just going to play some video games. Right, bud?" I asked, giving Avi's shoulder a gentle punch.

And that was what we started to do.

Everything was fine.

I heard the ding of the elevator. And for a split second, I thought Santi was home. I even felt a swelling of excitement at seeing him again, even though I knew I couldn't touch him until Avi went to bed.

But Salvatore's raised voice had my heart plummeting as I shot off the couch.

"Alessa!" he yelled, and I knew that tone of voice. Warning. And panic.

I reached for Avi on autopilot, finding more strength than was normal for me, hauling his body up, and running down the hall. In my mind, furthest was best. So not his room or my own, but Santi's.

It was then I heard the quiet pew-pew sound of a silenced gun, making my stomach clench as I silently prayed it was Salvatore getting the shots off, not someone shooting at him.

Somehow, though, as I pushed Avi into a back corner of Santi's closet behind his suits, hiding the panicked kid away, I knew. I knew it was bullets piercing through Salvatore's skin.

"Listen to me, Avi," I said as the poor kid shook and looked up at me with panicked eyes. "You stay right here, okay? You don't move. Don't make a sound. And don't come out until you hear your dad. Okay? I need you to agree, bud, now," I demanded, hearing the kick to the door.

"Okay," he agreed, lip quivering.

"Everything is going to be okay if you stay here and stay quiet," I told him, reaching out to touch his head.

I knew I couldn't really make that promise, but I needed to give him some comfort before I abandoned him.

And I had to abandon him. I had to lead them away from him.

Stomach clenching as I heard the door crack, I rushed into my room, grabbing the first weapon I found. Which was, unfortunately, a pocket knife. But something was better than nothing.

Rushing through the bathroom and into Avi's room, I found his bat sitting propped up beside the door.

Tucking the knife away, I grabbed the bat instead, liking that I wouldn't have to get as close to whoever it was.

Taking a deep breath, I stood just inside Avi's doorway, waiting, then jumping out and swinging hard to someone's midsection.

I didn't have time even to try to recognize him before he was folding forward, trying to catch his breath.

Adrenaline surging, I cocked the bat back again, ready to swing in a direction that would seriously injure, not just slow down, when a hand shot out of nowhere, grabbing the bat, mid-swing, pulling, and tossing behind him.

Shit.

Shit shit shit.

My hand went for my knife before I saw two other men move in behind the one who'd taken my bat.

Those weren't good odds even if you had a gun.

I was never going to get away with just a knife.

"So, who wants the broken nose, and who wants the busted fingers?" I asked. Then, while they took a second to digest that veiled threat, I charged forward, slamming the heel of my hand under the shortest guy's nose, feeling the warm gush of blood, hearing the rush of obscenities, but not pausing for even a second as I danced away from arms reaching for me. I grabbed that hand as I spun, though, twisting as I heard a crack.

If they wanted to take me, I knew logically that they could do it.

But that didn't mean I was going to go without a fight. And the more damage I did to certain parts of them, the less damage they would do to me.

"Get the bitch," one of them snapped as I pushed through a gap between two of them to make my way toward the living room.

It was then that they all turned to me.

All of them.

No one was going to look for anyone else.

No one wanted Avi.

There was a rush of relief so strong it nearly brought me to my knees.

But then the realization kicked in.

If they hadn't been aiming for Avi at the skate park, and if they weren't looking for him now, then this wasn't about him, likely wasn't about the Costa Family either.

No.

This was likely about me.

And my Family.

My gaze moved around as I flew through the living room toward the kitchen, grabbing the biggest knife out of the drawer, waiting for one of them to come closer, so I could thrust it outward.

"Crazy bitch," the closest one snapped as the blade of the knife sliced down his arm.

"Enough," another, deeper, voice growled as he walked in, stepping over the prone body of Salvatore on the ground just outside the doorway.

He strode confidently inward.

When I thrust out with the knife, his hand easily grabbed my wrist, twisting, and slamming the side of it against the edge of the counter, sending shooting pain through it as he dislodged the knife from my grip.

"You," I hissed, looking up at him, recognition hitting.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Me," he added as he produced a gun, holding it by the muzzle, and whipping me hard enough across the side of the head that everything went black.