The Woman in the Back Room by Jessica Gadziala

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Seventeen

Alessa

 

 

 

 

The chopping noise was what woke me up.

Steady and irritating.

And sending shooting pain through my aching skull.

Pistol whipped.

I'd been pistol-whipped.

Like some cheesy-ass gangster movie.

That was humiliating.

On a groan, my eyes fluttered open, leaving me slow-blinking at a drop ceiling. There was a semicircle of water damage in the furthest corner near the steel door with a small glass window.

There was something vaguely familiar about it, but with my screaming head, it was hard to force any buried thoughts to the surface.

I had to focus on tangibles.

The oddly soft surface I was on.

A mattress, but a shitty one.

My hand went down, finding thin metal bars. A cot.

When I tried to fold up, gaze on the door, on the freedom beyond it, I was jerked back down onto the mattress by the handcuff on my other wrist, attached to the bar below the mattress.

"Damnit," I hissed. "That stupid, arrogant, cock-sucker," I growled, yanking against the handcuff.

"Are you always such a sweet-talker?" a voice called from behind me, just out of sight. But not for long. He moved past me. All six-feet-six inches of him. Clad in black slacks and a black shirt. He made his way around the cot.

I wanted to say he was ugly.

Unfortunately, it would be a bald-faced lie.

He was annoyingly good-looking. Darkly good-looking, if you will.

What with his jet black hair, his chocolate-brown eyes, his square jaw covered in just the right amount of stubble, his full lips, his cheekbone hollows.

If you approached a man like him on the street, your instincts would tell you to cross the street. And those would be good instincts. Because you never wanted to cross paths with a man like him if you could help it.

Primo Esposito.

The boss of the Esposito crime Family.

A man who just came into power after slitting his father's throat at a Family sit-down, wiping the knife off on a napkin, then sitting down to finish cutting his steak with it.

He was a full-blown, cold-blooded, lunatic.

If they weren't, by all accounts, enemies, he and Brio would have a lot in common.

He towered over me for a moment before lowering down, making the cot let out a groaning sound as it tried to hold both our weight.

Panicked, my hand slipped into my pocket, closing around the pocket knife, finding a small bit of comfort in it.

Even if I used it, it didn't fix anything. I would still be chained to a bed. I would likely be rushed by all of Primo's men within a minute or two if I did any damage to him.

But it was something.

It made me feel better, at least.

"Head feels like a motherfucker, huh?" he asked, turning slightly, reaching down toward me. Likely to touch my pounding temple.

I didn't give him a chance, though.

Because instinct had my hand flying out of my pocket, flicking open the knife, and pressing it into his throat.

Primo, though, didn't even flinch.

Of course not.

He was too cold-blooded for that.

If anything, he turned his neck just enough that the tip of the blade bit into his skin as his lips curved up.

"Don't touch me," I snapped, figuring the movement likely needed explanation.

To that, Primo's lips curved up slightly. "I might be a stupid, arrogant, cock-sucker, but I don't force myself on women, Alessa," he said, and I was annoyed at how smoothly my name slid off of his lips. Like we knew each other. Like we were old friends.

"I wouldn't put anything past your Family," I said, jaw so tight that my teeth ached.

"Right," he agreed. "Because the Costas and the Morellis and the D'onofrios are all fucking saints. And we're the evil bastards. That's the narrative you're all operating under these days."

"Well, I don't know about you, but I certainly didn't slit my father's throat at the dinner table," I said, shrugging.

"We all have our sins," he said, shrugging his wide shoulders. "You've been no angel."

"No," I agreed. "But I haven't kidnapped innocent women."

"Innocent," he mused. "That's not exactly a word I'd use to describe you. Or are you not fucking the boss's brother?"

"Who I do or don't fuck has never been anyone's concern but my own. I mean, do you really want to compare body counts, Primo?"

"Fair enough," he agreed, leaning down over me, a move that made the knife slice right across his neck. But the giant of a man didn't even flinch, didn't hiss. He just reached down, and I wasn't sure what he was doing until I felt the cuff on my wrist ease for a second, then tighten again as he yanked it up, and secured the freed side to his own wrist.

"Oh, come the fuck on," I grumbled as he sat back, then moved to stand, forcing me to do the same.

I'd heard rumors about Primo and his unusual way of restraining prisoners. Meaning he kept them attached to him at all times. For hours, days, weeks. When he ate, when he slept, when he got busy. He didn't give a fuck.

I wasn't sure if the story was true, but I'd once heard someone claim he'd had a prisoner attached to his wrist once, and used their body as a human shield when shots rang out. Word was, the human shield died.

And while the story was over-the-top at best, I somehow didn't doubt it in the least.

"You can keep the knife," he said as he pulled me toward the door. But not the metal one with the window that seemed to lead outside. No, this one seemed to lead into the building.

It was right then that I realized why the office seemed familiar.

Because I'd been here before.

Just once.

On a job.

Stealing files from the desk.

It was likely the most dangerous job I'd ever done. And I knew the only reason I'd been chosen was because most members of the Esposito and Lombardi Families had no idea who I was, since I'd shown up so late in life.

I'd gotten out Scot-free.

Or so I thought.

Of course there had been cameras. And of course a man like Primo would not let any of his men rest until they figured out who I was, and what I'd been after.

"Where are we going?" I asked, trying to keep my tone conversational, not let him hear the anxiety swirling in my belly.

"You and yours are so fucking curious what I am doing with my Family, well, you'll get to see firsthand," he told me, leading me through the door into what was, well, a warehouse.

Not just any warehouse, but a meat-packing warehouse.

We all knew that was part of Primo's operation. His legit business to hide his dirty money. His family were butchers all the way back from the Old Country. They liked to carry on the family tradition. So they had a meat processing plant for fancy organic, free-range meat as well as a few smaller butcher shops across the Bronx.

What no one could figure out, though, was how the Lombardis were moving the amount of heroin they were across the country.

Primo pulled me down a line of workers all dressed in full-coverage disposable suits from the tops of their heads to their feet with yellow blood-soaked aprons, booties, and masks.

While we walked around with no protection at all.

I tried not to be disgusted by that fact.

Nothing seemed out of the usual as we walked. I mean, I didn't know much about meat processing or packaging, but it all seemed above-board.

That is until we got to a line toward the back, separated from the rest of the tables.

A sign above that line of workers said "special orders."

They seemed to deal exclusively in whole turkeys, and if I hadn't been looking for something wrong, I might have missed the way the employees slipped baggies full of powder inside the turkeys before stuffing the giblets back in to hide them.

"You're shipping heroin across the country in turkey carcasses?" I asked, looking up with him, face twisted in disgust.

"It's only stupid if it doesn't work," Primo said, giving me a cocky raised brow look that said it absolutely worked.

"Why would you show me this?" I asked as he kept walking through the warehouse, slamming his hand into the metal bar on the exit door, forcing me to jog with him as we went down two flights of stairs.

"Why not?" he asked. "I would have shown you had you asked," he added. "Instead of sneaking around."

"So, you're holding me prisoner because I snooped?" I asked, yanking hard on our joined wrists. He could have easily kept moving forward, dragging me behind if he needed to, but he pulled to a stop, turning to face me as I caught my breath.

"No."

That was it.

No.

I had a lot of history with frustrating men, but I had a feeling Primo Esposito was going to top them all.

"Then why?"

"Maybe you should ask your father. And that brother of yours," he suggested.

"Well, I can't really do that," I said. "You know, since you're holding me captive, you jackass."

"That's a lot of fire, baby. You must be hot in bed," he declared.

"You'll never know," I said, chin angling up.

"Nope. Not if you like the straight up and down sort."

"Santi is part of the Family too," I said, annoyed that anyone would think differently just because he hadn't been in from the beginning.

"Yeah, only because his wife's lover put a bullet in her head."

"What?" I hissed, feeling like someone had kicked me in the gut.

"Didn't figure that out yet? Swear shit takes ten times longer with you all."

"How do you know that?"

"Because I pay a-fucking-ttention. Sure your pussy is great, baby, but I'm not getting distracted by it like Santiago is."

"You're a pig."

"Yep."

Ugh. I wanted to slap him. But I also had to respect his attitude, I guess.

"What is your endgame here?" I asked, raising our joined hands. "Starting a full-on war between the Families? Like shit hasn't been tense enough?"

"Worried about me, baby? Don't. I can handle myself if or when it comes to that. But this isn't about all the Families. This is about yours and mine. If Costa wants to stick his fucking nose in, I'm more than happy to deal with him too."

"My Family hasn't done anything," I said, shaking my head. "What?" I snapped when he let out a condescending chuckle.

"Oh, baby. Nothing," he said, reaching up with his free hand to rub at the scruff on his face. "You're just so fucking clueless still, huh?"

"Clueless about what?" I asked through gritted teeth. But was I mad at him, or the fact that he was likely right.

"What your Family does. Oh, they let you in on the little shit. The little shit that they think you can help them with. Jobs where they need someone to do something covert. You're the perfect woman for the job, aren't you? Since Morelli hasn't officially claimed you in any way. Bet he didn't even approve of you changing your last name to his."

He'd been angry actually.

It had been so long ago that I thought it was all behind us.

But maybe I was seeing the whole situation through a lens that was easier for me to accept.

"Funny thing about being such an outcast," Primo started, and for a moment, I wasn't sure if he meant me or himself since the title clearly worked for the both of us. "You see shit that the insiders miss. Your old man and your brothers put on a good show, but they don't consider you a part of their Family. Maybe in the personal family unit, sure. You wedged your way in there, despite the circumstances. But not in the Family business."

"And yet here I am. Caught up in their Family business."

"No one would ever accuse me of being a fair man, Alessa. I hit where it hurts, and I hit it hard."

"You just said I'm..."

"A loved member of a family unit. Don't know much about that myself, but your brothers, especially, will fight for you."

"But why?" I snapped, waving my good arm out. "Why shoot me? Why kidnap me? What the fuck is the purpose of all this? You shot Salvatore too. So now you involved the Costa Family too. Do you have a death wish?"

"Salvatore will live," Primo said, shrugging like it was no big deal. "And we both know Costa will be involved because you're fucking him."

"Are you stalling, or just like hearing yourself talk?" I asked, getting a smirk out of him. Could a man smirk "darkly"? Because if one could, this one did.

"Seen your brother Ricco lately?" he asked.

"Ricco has been out of town for a couple weeks."

"Yeah, you know why?"

"I figured a job. We don't give one another a blow-by-blow on all our jobs."

"Ricco has been hiding out."

"Hiding out why?"

"You haven't asked me about my brother, Alessa. Rude, don't you think?"

My blood ran cold at his words, at the look in his eyes.

I knew without knowing, without asking.

But I asked anyway.

"How's your brother, Primo?"

"Dead, Alessa. Presumably," he added, jaw getting tight. "Ricco is too good at what he does to leave a body to be discovered. But I'm not a stupid man. I know Ricco put a bullet at the back of his head."

I wanted to say it was impossible, that he was delusional. But I knew how these Families worked. I knew that if the other Families had a sit-down about one of Primo's brothers, and decided he needed to be taken out, they would do it. Without hesitation. And Ricco would have been high on the list of men who would carry out a hit like that.

"Which brother?" I asked, brows lowering. Much like my own family unit, Primo's was full of sons.

"Due," he said, dark gaze unnerving.

I, unfortunately, didn't know nearly as much about the Esposito Family as Primo clearly knew about mine.

But Due was the second oldest son.

I felt like there was always more derision about him than any of the others, but I couldn't remember why.

"You seem real heartbroken about it," Primo said, tone dry.

"You'll forgive me, but you know as well as I do that if any of the Families puts a hit out on a made man, they had damn good reason."

"Yeah? What reason?" Primo asked. "You'd think if someone was going to hit one of my brothers, I'd know why."

"Well, like you said, Primo, I'm an outsider. They clearly didn't share that information with me."

"Yeah," he said, sighing.

"Why didn't you kill me?" I asked, watching his gaze go up over my shoulder for a moment before it landed back at me.

"Honestly, baby, because killing you would be more of a fucking hassle than it's worth," he declared.

"But you tried."

"Yeah, well, that was before my men recognized the crotch fruit," he said, making anger sizzle through my belly. "Then did some digging and realized you were working as a Costa bodyguard. That just gets messier than I'd like."

"But you took me," I snapped.

"Yeah. Well, had to smoke your brother out somehow, didn't I?"

"He wouldn't come out of hiding to find me," I said, shaking my head.

"Eh, you underestimate them, it seems. Way I hear it, he was on a plane as soon as he got word."

Shit.

"What's the plan then?To trade me for him? So you can kill him instead? Eye for an eye?"

To that, his lips curled up. "Think we both know that Biblical shit doesn't fly these days. The Commission isn't going to let me put a bullet in your brother's head."

"Then what? What the hell do you want, Primo? This is a lot of aggravation, and a lot more bad blood."

"I want a meeting. And I want to iron some shit out."

"What could possibly make this okay now? With your brother dead, me shot twice, Salvatore shot, and a poor kid traumatized."

"Please. At that kid's age, I had to hand my father the knife he used to cut a rat's tongue out."

"Right. And you turned out so well-adjusted," I said, getting another chuckle out of him. "What do you think could possibly fix this divide right now?" I asked, genuinely curious.

"An alliance."

"Right. Because any of us would trust any of you at just your words."

"I'm not talking about words. I'm talking about action. One action, in particular."

"What could... oh," I said as the awful truth dawned on me. "Oh, come on, Primo. This isn't the fucking Dark Ages. What the fuck?" I snapped.

"It's the only way," he said. "The bloodshed will never stop until one of theirs belongs to one of ours."

"I've always known you are a bit of a dick," I said, jaw tight. "But I've never thought you were a fucking monster until right this moment."

"That's because you haven't known me until right this moment," he said, giving my wrist a jerk. "Come on. The cavalry should be arriving soon. We have a big, dramatic scene to plan," he said, dragging me along with him.

I had no choice but to follow along as he set up the stage for his plan.

And what was his plan, you might be wondering?

An arranged fucking marriage between the Families.