Clean Slate (New Mafia Trilogy #2) (30 page)

           
“What?”

He followed me into the
living room and I heard him mumble a few curse words at the scene before him.
Dr. Brannigan had successfully removed the bullet; it was on top of a nest of
gauze on my coffee table. He was hunched over Victor, sewing up his leg.

Gio and Jimmy eyed up
Jason so I made quick introductions.

           
“Natalie, doc says Victor can’t be moved for at least
twenty-four hours so he needs to stay here,” Gio said and it wasn’t a question
or request.

           
“Um, okay?”

           
“No,” Jason butted in. “He’s your guy and your problem,
not Nat’s.” He towered over Gio, but Gio didn’t back down or even flinch.
Instead he smiled, but his eyes flickered with something malevolent, like a
dark cloud had passed over his irises. Shit, I needed to intervene so I stepped
forward, inserting myself between Jason and Gio.

           
“Jase, it’s fine. Victor’s a friend and he can stay
here.”

           
“What the fuck, Natalie.” He took a step back, glaring at
me. “I thought this shit is why you left Philadelphia?”

           
“It’s not like Victor planned on getting shot and showing
up bleeding on my doorstep, Jason! He’s here, it’s done and I’m not going to
kick him out.”

           
“Well, I’m not going to stand by and watch you get sucked
back into this…” pausing he pointed at Gio and his men. “…this life.” He
stormed out, slamming the door behind him.

           
“Is he going to be a problem?” Gio asked me. “He can be
easily disposed of you know.”

I shuddered because I
did know and there was no way in hell I’d let Jason meet that fate. “No, he’s
fine. I’ll smooth things over. We were supposed to be going out on a date
tonight and well…anyway, is Victor going to be okay?” I asked, deliberately
changing the topic.

           
“Yeah, he’ll be good as new.” Gio looked around the
living room, at the blood saturated carpet by the futon and the trail of drops
leading from the entryway where a pile of bloody towels sat in a heap by the
door.
 
“I’ll send a clean-up crew over to
straighten this place up and take this to replace anything damaged.” He pulled
out a money clip and peeled off a bunch of one hundred dollar bills.

Gio and Jimmy left soon
after that, but it was less than two hours later when Jimmy was back with the
cleaners; a pale, silent bunch who went to work scrubbing the blood stains like
they did it every day. They probably did. I kept myself in the bedroom behind a
locked door until the apartment was quiet again. After taking a quick shower
and putting on clean clothes, I went out to find Jimmy sitting in the recliner,
one leg crossed over his knee, playing with his phone. The entire living room
was spotless and the carpet looked brand new. Not even a pink stain was left behind.
Victor was still out cold, but his color had improved.

Jimmy looked up from
his phone and regarded me with his steely gray eyes. The right side of his face
twisted down in a frown from the scar tissue, but I didn’t get the sense he was
angry, he just looked like it. “So, um, Victor looks better,” I said awkwardly,
taking a seat on the edge of the coffee table.

He nodded in agreement
and continued to stare at me, making me feel uncomfortable on top of awkward.
“I’m still amazed he made it up the stairs.” I didn’t know what else to talk
about, but had to say something to fill the silence stretching out between us.

           
“Victor’s a tough bastard. Did he say whether he got his
job done?”

           
“Uh no, he didn’t, but he was out of it and not conscious
very long.”

           
“Did the doctor leave instructions for his care?” I
asked, glancing down at a bag of bandages and antibiotic ointment as well as
two prescription bottles.

           
“I’m going to be staying here to keep an eye on Victor
until we can move him. I’ll take care of everything.”

At first I was relieved
that Victor’s care wasn’t my responsibility, but I wasn’t thrilled about having
Jimmy staying over. It must have shown on my face because Jimmy flashed a rare
lopsided smile and put his hands up in surrender.

           
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt you, just lug this
guy back and forth from the bathroom and make sure he isn’t a pain in the ass.”

           
“Guaranteed he’ll be that,” I said and Jimmy laughed and
it looked almost painful for him the way half the scar tissue on the right side
of his face bunched up.
 

At that moment our
patient started to waken. He groaned and his eyelids fluttered. I placed my
hand on his arm. Alarmed at how cold his skin was, I stood up and grabbed the
fleece throw that was draped over the back of the futon and covered him up as
much as possible. He groaned again and opened his eyes, blinking several times.
I remembered what it was like when I came to after being treated for my gunshot
wound; cloudy, disoriented and it had felt like milk covered my eyeballs, they
were so goopy and blurry.

           
“Natalie?” he asked in a croaky voice. He turned his head
slightly towards his friend. “Jimmy? Where am I?”

           
“You’re at my apartment. Don’t worry; you’ll remember
once the meds wear off. The good news is you’re going to be okay and Jimmy is
going to be your nurse – sponge baths and all.”

Jimmy laughed and shook
his head. He came over to squat in front of Victor. “I wouldn’t go that far,
but I am here for ya, man.”

Victor smacked his lips
together in what should be universal body language for “I’m so parched I can’t
even speak” so I went into the kitchen to get him something to drink. After
searching all of the drawers for a single straw, I settled on a sports bottle
and filled that up with ice and water. Jimmy helped him sit up and Victor
drained half of the bottle with several big gulps. He was a mess; his shirt
crusty with dried blood and sweat, plus his jeans were basically cut to shreds.

           
“Did you bring a change of clothes for Victor?” I asked
Jimmy.

           
“Yeah,” He pointed to a small black duffle bag by the
front door. “Hey Victor, are up to getting changed and cleaning up a bit?”

I showed Jimmy where
the towels were and told him to help himself to whatever was in the kitchen.
Then I left the apartment because I needed to find Jason and smooth things over
– if it was even possible.
 

Jason wasn’t at his
apartment, unless he had hidden his car and was hiding out in the dark. I
called and texted several times without a response. I called Dirty to see if he
was there, but Callie said she hadn’t seen him since work the night before. I
texted Chelsea to see if Jason had gone over there to see Derek, but the answer
was no.

           
“What’s up?” Her next text said.

           
“Explain later,” was my response. She left it at that,
knowing I would indeed tell her everything.

Over two hours later, I
returned to my apartment. Jason still hadn’t returned any of my calls or texts
which only underscored how pissed off he was. Date night was officially a bust.

***

I didn’t hear from
Jason the next day, despite multiple attempts at contacting him. Both Victor
and Jimmy picked up on my anxiety and swore to me that Gio didn’t have anything
to do with Jason’s disappearance. I finally went out for a run, just to have
some space since Victor was staying one more night.

The sun was beginning
to set when I returned and Victor was awake. He and Jimmy were watching some
MMA thing on TV. I’d arranged to have the night off so after a shower, I put on
yoga pants and a sweatshirt then made my way into the kitchen to make dinner.
After seeing the pitiful sandwiches Jimmy had made the night before, I took
pity on the guys and said I would handle dinner. Thick steaks had been
marinating all afternoon and were ready to be cooked. I washed some potatoes
and stuck them in the microwave before going down to the community charcoal
grill that was located in the courtyard.

It was nice to sit
outside and just breathe. I worried about Jason and what he was up to. I knew
he was pissed at me, but for him to go silent for over twenty-four hours set my
nerves on edge. A part of me understood why he was upset, but Victor was only
trying to get help and I was his closest option. It made me think of Grant and
Dominic. If it was one of them who’d been hurt, I’d want someone to open their
home and provide assistance.
 

Once the steaks were
done, I brought the steaming platter upstairs, made a salad and brought all of
the food over to the coffee table. Jimmy helped by grabbing plates, silverware
and requisite beers. Throughout the meal, I kept casting nervous glances at my
phone to see if Jason had tried to reach me, but he hadn’t, instead Dominic
texted me a picture of the Philadelphia Art Museum. It had been taken at night
and the large columns looked like they were painted in gold the way the light
illuminated them. The caption enclosed with the picture read:
I still haven’t raced you up these steps.
Miss you.

I smiled at the memory.
I loved running through Fairmount Park and by the museum. I had told Dom that
if we raced, he was sure to lose. Just a few weeks before the drive-by, we had
been eating dinner at Franco’s when I wagered that I could beat him up the
steps. If he lost, he had to do the whole Rocky Balboa impersonation. If I
lost, he had permission to toss me in the Washington Monument fountain that was
located across from the museum.
 

I texted him back:
I’ll kick your ass any day of the week
Grabano.
J

Moments later he
responded:
I’ve been training
. He attached
a picture of Sylvester Stallone as Rocky, his arm triumphantly rising into the
air as he looked out over Benjamin Franklin Parkway from atop the museum steps.

Practically choking on
a piece of steak, I took a deep gulp of beer to wash it down.

           
“What’s so funny?” Victor asked.

           
“Oh, it’s Dom –he’s being a goof.”

Jimmy and Victor
exchanged a look across the table and shook their heads.

           
“What?” I asked.

           
“You can’t say the boss of the Philly Mob is being a goof.”

           
“Fine,” I rolled my eyes. “He’s being funny.”

           
“You seem to be on better terms,” Victor said, giving me
a pointed look. “I bet that pisses your beach boy off.”

I sighed and pushed my
empty plate away, leaning back against the edge of the futon. “I’m just texting
Dom. We’re friends, I guess.”

Once again Jimmy and
Victor exchanged another look. I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at
them. Victor laughed and Jimmy gave me a blank stare. He was good at that.

           
“Here’s some advice and Jimmy will back me up here, but
guys don’t want to be friends with their ex-girlfriends. If Dom’s still in
touch he wants to be more than friends.”

           
“I know. He’s been pretty clear about that, but he knows
where I stand and that I’m with Jason.”

           
“Are you sure you want to be just friends or are you
leading him on?” Jimmy asked.

I couldn’t believe I
was having relationship advice night with two enforcers for the mafia. When I
didn’t answer Jimmy right away, my silence must have given him some sort of
confirmation.

           
“Why do you even care?” I asked, suddenly feeling
defensive at his judgment.

           
“Because we’re bored, so humor us. I think you still love
Dom. Am I right?” Victor said while grabbing another potato off of the platter.

           
“God, you guys are worse than women, you know that?” I
stood up with a huff and stalked into the kitchen to get more beer, Victor’s
laughter following me all the way. I came back with the rest of the twelve-pack
since it was turning into one of those nights. “Fine, I admit it. I still have
feelings for Dom. Are you happy?”

           
“That’s a question you should be asking yourself.”

Goddamn it, Victor spun
it around and went all Dr. Phil on me.

           
“I like you better when you’re unconscious,” I said and
Jimmy’s face cracked into a million folds of scar tissue when he laughed.

Fortunately the rest of
the night wasn’t spent kibitzing about my love life, but the conversation we
did have about it left me feeling introspective and emotionally vulnerable by
the time I went to bed, especially since I’d yet to hear from Jason. All I
received was a cryptic text from Chelsea, via Derek, that Jason needed some
space.

The next night, when I arrived
at Dirty, Jason’s car was parked over by the rear entrance. Before going in, I
sat in my car and wondered if he was going to continue to ignore me. Taking a
deep breath and steeling my nerves as much as possible, I went inside. The door
clicked loudly behind me, echoing throughout the near empty space. Jason looked
up and stopped wiping the counter when he saw me. We stared at each other, not
one of us moving, until Collin said something to Jason and he looked away.
Keeping my head down, I quickly walked to the employee area and put my bag in a
cubby before stopping in the bathroom to check my appearance. Aside from faint
shadows under my eyes and cheeks flushed more than usual, I looked okay. On the
inside I was vacillating between hurt and pissed. It was going to be a long
night.

Just in the few minutes
I was in the bathroom, more customers had arrived and every bar stool was
occupied. Musicians for the band playing that night were hauling in their
instruments and equipment. I spied a high table with three people standing
around it and none of them had drinks. Grateful for the distraction, I hurried
over and took their orders. I went up to the bar, choosing Rayne’s side and she
placed three martinis on my tray, glancing over at Jason and giving me a
questioning look. I shook my head, my lips forming a straight line and returned
to my customers.

A couple of hours later
I was coming out of the ladies room and practically collided with Jason who had
apparently been hovering outside the door waiting for me. Without saying a
word, he pulled me to him and lowered his mouth to mine. After getting over the
initial surprise, I parted my lips and let him in. Pressed against the corridor
wall, I welcomed the feel of his body against mine as he moved his lips over my
jawline and down my neck, sucking and nipping at the sensitive skin. He smelled
faintly of sunscreen and saltwater indicating he had spent the day surfing.

           
“I’m so sorry, Nat,” he whispered in my ear. Before I
could respond, he kissed me again, his lips bruising in their urgency.
 

           
“Hey kids, save it for later, you’re on the clock,”
Callie said from behind us and just as suddenly as we had joined, we separated.

           
“Sorry,” Jason said, clearly trying not to laugh. It was
a little bit like getting busted by a teacher for making out in the hall.

           
“Yes, sorry Callie,” I echoed and smoothed my t-shirt,
which had become bunched up.
 

Callie just smirked and
walked away, her shoulders shaking with laughter.

Jason lifted a hand and
tucked an errant hair behind my ear. His hand skimmed down my side until our
fingers were intertwined. He leaned forward so I could hear him over the band.
“I am sorry, Nat, and I know we need to talk, but not here. I worked it out
with my dad to use his house in Malibu this weekend. We can head over there
tonight after work, okay?”

           
“Is this so we won’t be interrupted by injured mobsters?”
I teased. His entire body stiffened at this comment and he averted his gaze
from my face to a spot on the wall behind me, switching from hot to cold in an
instant.

           
“Something like that – I gotta get back,” he said and
abruptly left.

What was that all
about? I asked myself and watched him walk away, his blond hair easy to track
as he moved through the crowd.

It wasn’t until the
next day when I got an answer to this question and I was in no way prepared for
it.