Red Handed by Jessa Wilder

Connor rounded the corner to my parents’ house, and I let a wall snap into place. No trace of the girl I’d let myself be over the past few weeks. A wicked grin formed on my face as the power of my position settled over me. If only Nico, Beck, and Rush could see me now. There hadn’t been a ton of opportunities to show off my abilities. Sure, I’d shot at some shooters and nearly sliced through Beck’s throat the first time we met, but they saw nothing of what my life was like at home.

The tires crunched as we pulled up in front of a giant opulent home that lacked character, authenticity, and class. A McMansion, at its truest definition, a poor reflection of the Esposito wealth. The only thing separating it from the other McMansions around us was that it sat on multiple acres of land. My dad liked to keep a tight rein on his men.

That being said, what we fell behind in wealth, we more than made up in firepower. Connor ran quickly, opened Sophie’s door, and she gave the surrounding men a wide smile. She was always a friend, never their leader. Which made absolutely no sense, because she was next in line to inherit the gang.

One of my father's men I didn’t recognize opened my door and looked down as I stepped out. My close guards had known me since I was a child, they were still relaxed with me, but the vast majority of our men showed me the full respect my position as Jimmy’s daughter required. Not that I’ve ever given them a reason to do that, but that was the reputation my father carefully curated over the last several years.

I walked past him without saying a word. The five guards posted in front of the house kept their gaze perfectly ahead, not engaging me in the slightest. Sophie skipped up beside me, a wide grin on her face as they opened the doors for us. Their eyes turned to her. Some even had small smiles.

I tucked away the loneliness my role required, and prepared myself, knowing the second I walked through the doors, in the privacy of our family, I would revert to the black sheep. Only good as a thief for Mount Summer.

My parents’ house had wall to wall marble flooring, gaudy chandeliers, and they adorned the walls in knock off prints of the real art it was trying to be. I stiffened as my mother walked up to us. She wore a navy blue pantsuit now, her red hair in an elegant quaff. Maybe she had been inspired by our meeting with Giovanna. She seemed to be going for more of a high-class gangster wife vibe. It was only kind of working.

Mom ignored me completely. Eyes crinkling in the corners the second she saw Sophie. Sophie ran into her arms, squeezing our mother tight.

“I missed you. I’ve been fighting with your father this entire time to get you home,” Mom said, speaking into Sophie’s hair. She never glanced at me, clearly showing I hadn’t been brought up in those conversations. Not that she would’ve needed to. My dad would’ve been happy to have me home.

Sophie smiled up at her. “Missed you too. It feels great to be home.”

“Mom,” I greeted her stiffly. “I like your lipstick.”

My mother finally acknowledged me. “Raegan. I like your scarf.”

I stared at her in confusion. I wasn’t wearing a scarf. Then I remembered I had several hickeys covering my throat and shoulder. Touché, Mother.

“Your father is in a meeting,” she said.

“What?” I snapped. “Then why make us come home right away?”

She shrugged, unconcerned. “He’ll get to you when he gets to you. Maybe if you weren’t so busy with your new friends you would have been on time.”

My eye twitched. “Well, what am I supposed to do while I wait?”

“Brian and Patrick are in the barracks. You’ve fallen behind on your training.” Her tone was distant, none of the warmth she’d shown Sophie.

“I’ll get right on that,” I deadpanned.

She turned and smiled brightly, grabbing Soph’s hand. “Come on, I have a surprise for you.” Sophie followed her, giving me a sympathetic smile. She’d never looked too much into our separation of roles. She followed whatever my dad told her, never questioning the disparagement between us.

I walked out the back door, keeping my back rigid and my face blank. The surrounding guards scrambled into position. There was a small card table on the back porch. A chair teetered and fell over with a loud bang at the speed the guy had stood up. His face went bright red, embarrassment seeping into his gaze. I couldn’t have cared less that they were out here having a good time, but that wasn’t the proper response for my position.

“Clean it up,” I said, keeping my voice cold. The men didn’t hesitate, righting the chair and getting into their assigned position.

Patrick walked up to me, one of the few not afraid. His hands tucked into his pockets. “Already keeping them in line, I see.” His smile was genuine and my shoulders relaxed.

“If only it were that easy.” I closed the distance between us, and we walked together to the secondary house in the back. Where he and a few of the other high-ranking men lived.

He scoffed. “Are you kidding me, those boys respect the hell out of you.”

“Only because, some asshole convinced them I was some kind of super assassin,” I said, and pretended to glare at him.

He raised both hands in the air in front of him, laughing. “Hey, that was one time, and I cleared it up after.”

We entered the back house, significantly less extravagant than the other. Simple wood floors, light grey painted walls. Utilitarian at best. Not that the men who lived here cared about that. Brian was already set up at the large kitchen table. A laptop in front of him, as well as piles of paperwork. He treated me with respect but none of the fear of the other men.

“What do you have for me?” Brian asked the second I sat at the table to his right.

My brows pinched together. “Nothing, I haven’t been on a job since the gala.”

His eyes went round. “You’re telling me you’ve been at the Esposito’s for weeks and haven’t picked up intel?” His eyes turned sympathetic. “Prepare yourself. Jimmy isn’t going to be happy about that.”

My back stiffened. Of course, he wouldn’t. Of course, I was supposed to gather information. Fuck. My chest caved at the thought of my father’s reaction. Would I get away with this or would there be hell to pay?

Patrick walked up to us, cutting off my train of thought. “Come on, let’s see if you’ve grown soft in your time away.”

I laughed. “I might not actually kill people for fun, Patrick, but I definitely still know how.”

The back of the house had been converted into a gym, complete with outdoor firing range and fighting ring. I smiled at Patrick walking up to the ring. Sounded like I needed to teach him a lesson on exactly why people should be afraid of me.

Two men spared in the ring as we walked up. One saw us, pausing, and took a right hook to the face. I worked to school my face, hiding my wince at the noise.

“What the hell, man?” The guy that punched him said in frustration, but the other guy still stared at me.

“Sorry, we’ll get out of here immediately.” Punching guy turned to us, eyes rounding, and quickly scrambled out of the ring.

Patrick smirked at me. “That’s certainly handy.”

I rolled my eyes at him and climbed under the rope, not bothering to disarm myself. They trained me enough that there wasn’t any actual risk of Patrick being harmed. Plus, we train how we fight in the actual world, and my knives were an essential part of my tactical attire.

Patrick climbed in, double my size, but half my skill. He was going to regret this later. I stood in a relaxed, ready position, ready to spring forward. His arms were longer, giving him an advantage at further range, but I was an expert at getting in close.

He swung in, not bothering to hold back his punch, and I dodged to the side, laughing. “That's the best you’ve got?”

Patrick looked around and noticed the men gathering to watch our fight. Gentlemen mixing with our own. His eyes narrowed on me, watching me cautiously before making his move. I ducked under his arm, slamming my shoulder into his sternum, and held my knife directly to his throat.

I was deadly with my knives. Images of nearly cutting through Beck's neck filled my mind. For once happy, I was too slow. My cheeks heated at what had happened directly after I nearly killed him. The kiss burned into my brain.

Not paying attention, I barely moved in time to avoid Patrick’s punch. He smiled at me. “What’s got you distracted?”

“None of your business, Patrick.” I smiled sweetly at him, right before landing a punch under his jaw, sending him stumbling backward. It was the perfect spot for me to land a bunch, it automatically made the opponent see stars.

I grabbed some water. One man had brought me and gave Patrick time to collect himself. “Sometimes I forget how fast you are.”

I smiled sweetly at him. “I wouldn’t suggest that. Underestimating me might get you killed one day.”

He laughed. “Oh, I’m fully aware.”

We continued to spar for the next hour. Patrick landed a punch to my already bruised cheek, which I returned with a few shallow cuts on his arms. Our audience grew with each round. I couldn’t let any weakness show, and after this display every man in our company will remember exactly who I was.

Once we were both thoroughly soaked with sweat, Patrick took mercy on me and surrendered, knowing I couldn’t in front of the men. Full respect required no weakness at any time, and as a woman I had to prove that double. I downed the rest of my water, wiping the sweat off my face with a towel, and hopped down from the ring.

“Don’t you guys have jobs to do?” I said to the men, and they immediately found things to do that weren’t in my vicinity. My shoulders relaxed, and I took heaping breaths. No longer having to hide, just how exhausted that work out made me. I’d definitely lost endurance over the past few weeks, and would have to prioritize going to the gym from now on.

There was a small kitchenette in the gym and I grabbed Patrick and me another bottle of water and two ice packs; one for his chin and the other for the side of my face.

“You clipped me where my bruise had just begun to heal. It’s going to turn black and blue by the end of the day. I need to get the hell out of here before that happens,” I said, wrapping my icepack in a cloth and placing it against my tender face.

Patrick gave me an incredulous look. “Pretty sure I’m walking out of here with way more damage than you are.”

True, I grinned, no doubt that I’d reminded the men of who I was and gave the Gentlemen something to report back to their leadership. My smile broadened, picturing Nico’s face when he heard just how much damage his little thief could dole out. Then again, he might take that as a challenge. He’d already looked at me with distrust.

Brian walked into the room and placed a train of turkey subs on the table. My stomach grumbled, and I shoved a bite in my mouth.

“Eat up. We’ve got the shooting range next. Can’t have you falling out of practice,” he said, a wicked smirk on his face.

My shoulders were going to burn after today. I wonder if the hotel had an actual massage therapist or if they all specialized in happy endings.

* * *

Later that afternoon, I stomped down the hall to my dad’s office, curious eyes following me as I went. Jimmy had finally deigned to summon me after he finally finished talking to Sophie. He was the only person in this place—in the world, maybe—who talked to me like I was some misbehaving child. Well, maybe he and Nico, but Nico was a special case.

I was unsurprised to find my mother sitting in a chair next to the desk when we entered the office. I shot her a venomous look, which she pretended not to see.

“You’re recovered?” Dad asked gruffly as he sat down behind his immense mahogany desk.

“Awe, you care?” I said sardonically.

He rolled his eyes. “Connor called and said you’d gotten yourself kidnapped. How the hell you managed that is beyond me, but you seem fine.”

I ground my teeth, biting back resentment. Yeah, I’d totally gotten myself kidnapped. What was I wearing?

“I called and told you we’d been shot at. Sophie was targeted twice by active shooters and then I was taken, probably because someone thought I was her,” I said as evenly as possible.

“What the fuck is Esposito thinking letting her leave the hotel?” My dad said to the room at large.

My eye twitched slightly. Of course, this was only about Sophie. Not that I wanted her to get hurt, obviously. I was happy to shoot anyone in the head to protect her, but would it kill my parents to give a fuck about me every once in a while? Probably. It would probably literally kill them.

“What I don’t understand is why we’re at the hotel at all,” I said. “No one has ever explained this whole thing. There are Gentlemen in the training room and Patrick and Brian are all chill about it, it’s bizarre.”

“You don’t seem to be having a hard time adjusting,” my mother snapped, eying my neck again.

I rolled my eyes and ignored her comment. “I can’t be useful if I don’t know what’s happening.”

My dad tapped tattooed fingers against the desk. “What information have you gathered?”

“Was I supposed to be? This is exactly what I mean.”

His smile turned mean. “I shouldn’t have to spell shit out for you. You’ve spent weeks on the North End, you should be able to tell me something useful.”

“So there is no alliance?”

Dad slammed his hand down on the desk. “Since when did you think it was your fucking place to ask questions? Do you think we’re just blindly merging with them? There are bigger things at play here.”

I looked at my mother in confusion. This whole thing was batshit. Maybe my dad was wrong. I did need someone to spell it out for me. In fairness, after years of a firm divide between the North and South sides, this sudden co-mingling with no explanation was a lot to process.

Then there was a small, traitorous part of me that didn’t totally hate it. I needed the reminder of who I was and what side I was on. I needed a new goal.

“Your job is to go back there with a fucking smile on your face and get as much information on what kind of operation they’re running as possible,” Dad barked.

I blinked. Sometimes his ability to practically hear what I was thinking was almost spooky. “Nico will probably have realized we’re gone by now. Or, if not yet, he will soon.”

“So?” my dad snapped.

“So, you don’t get him. You can’t just send us back, he needs to think it’s his idea.”

Dad narrowed his eyes at me. “Fine. How do you want to do that?”

“Wait? I’d give it twenty minutes.”

My parents glanced at each other in confusion, but I leaned back in my chair, closing my eyes. My phone vibrated in my back pocket and I pulled it out, frowning down at the screen.

“What?” my dad barked.

“What’s that expression? Speak of the devil and he shall appear?” I held up my phone to show my father that Nico was calling. “That was much faster than I expected.”

Dad’s lip curled. “Well, are you going to take that?”

“He hates to be kept waiting, Dad.” I smiled sweetly and put the phone on silent. “We’ll wait for him to call again.”

Dad barked a laugh as, sure enough, Nico called a second time. “You’re walking a thin line, girl.”

I smiled mildly, letting the call go to voicemail again. “Nico needs to be reminded now and then that he isn’t God. It’s good for him.”

My mother eyed my bruised neck down her nose. “God or the devil, Raegan? Make up your mind.”

I bit back a snarky reply as my dad’s heavily corded desk phone started ringing. He glanced at it, grinning. I hadn’t seen him look so amused in years.

“Should I get that?” I asked, standing. Dad gestured for me to go ahead, and I leaned forward, grabbing the receiver. “Hello?”

“Raegan.” Nico used that smooth voice I knew spelled danger.

“Good Morning, Grumpy. What can I do for you?”

“Where the fuck are you?”

I frowned. “You know where I am, you’re calling a landline.”

Nico growled in exasperation, then rattled off something about the swapped SIM cards and the wiped laptop at a speed that implied he was on the verge of some sort of manic episode. I held the receiver slightly away from my ear, staring into the eyes of my parents.

“I don’t know what you expect me to do about that,” I said lightly.

In the split second before he answered, a battle raged. Please don’t ask me to come back. Please do.

“Come back. Now.”

I sighed, both in relief and resignation. “We’ve been over this, Nicolai. You know you can’t summon me.”

He paused. “Actually, Rabbit, I’ve found that I can. Your resistance is really more in your head than anything else. You always come eventually. We’ll see you for dinner in the penthouse. I have plans to go over.”

He hung up, and I stared at the phone in shocked outrage.

“Well?” my dad said.

“All set,” I snapped. “We’ll head back tonight after dinner and you can expect regular reports on the Gentlemen starting tomorrow.”