A Bad Man: Joey (3 page)

“Yeah, I know who and what you are.”

He was silent for a second, staring at her and waiting to see if she would elaborate. When she didn’t he smirked again. “And what type of man is that?”

She glanced toward the entrance, and then looked at him. “We both know you are not really the type of man that sees a woman for more than a few hours, if you know what I mean.” She was silent for a moment. “And I’m not the type of woman that goes out with a guy that is dangerous, and after he has wined and dined her would only use her for a piece of ass.”

He kept his composure, didn’t show emotion, but the longer he stared at her, and the more he allowed her statement to seep into him, Joey just couldn’t hold it in any longer. He stated chuckling, and pushed away from the counter. Marra looked surprised by his reaction, and he was also feeling that emotion, too. He didn’t laugh much, but hearing her put him in his place, knowing that he was dangerous, yet still telling him how it was, had him grinning like a fool.

“You know, only schoolgirls listen to rumors.” He didn’t know what she had heard and he assumed most things were legit, but surely some of them were spoken by scared individuals.

She chuckled, but it was far from amused. “I doubt what I’ve heard is false, but it doesn’t matter anyway, because you and I both know that this,” she gestured between them with her hand, “isn’t going to happen.”

Before she dropped her hand he grabbed it, and placed her open palm on his chest. He heard her breath hitch and felt her try to pull her hand away, but he refused to let her go. “Just one meal, Marra. Let me take you out, feed you genuine Italian food, have you drinking wine that is as full bodied and exquisite as you are, and then at the end of the night if you don’t want to see me again I’ll bow out respectfully.” He stared into her blue eyes, watched the emotions and thoughts move across her face, and thought he knew exactly what she would say.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I don’t need drama in my life, and I have a feeling your life is filled with it.” Se tugged her hand back and curled it into a fist. Her nipples were hard beneath her top, and she was still breathing heavily. She wanted him, but was fighting damn hard about it.

“You’re smart, Marra, but deny what you feel because of my profession.” He straightened, felt his annoyance grow at her refusal once again, and put his suit jacket on. He could have easily played it off like he didn’t know what the fuck she was talking about, but then he’d be acting just as naive as she was.

“I wouldn’t be able to give you want.”

He gritted his teeth, and reined in his irritation. “And what the fuck would that be?”

She narrowed her eyes. “A warm body to use for the night.” She held his gaze, refusing to back down, and although he respected her for that, it also pissed him off. “And that is exactly the thing you look for in a woman.”

He leaned in, his body shaking with his anger from what she’d said. She held her ground, though. “You think you know me, Marra Santos, but I don’t think you have the first clue about who I really am.”

She swallowed, and although he saw her nerves showing, she stood still. He heard the sound of the back door opening and of Henrietta and Francesco speaking in Italian, but Joey kept his focus right on Marra, and she kept hers on him.

“You’ll realize soon enough, though, that I don’t give up on what I want, Marra.” He leaned in another inch so now their lips were only inches apart. Her warm, sweet smelling breath moved across his lips, and he held back his groan of arousal. “And I want you pretty fucking badly.” And then he turned and left, because if he stayed a moment later he’d kiss her until she either submitted to him, or slapped his fucking face.

Chapter Three

Marra couldn’t stop thinking about Joey, not after he had gone all alpha caveman on her at the café this morning. She was still annoyed with him for thinking he could talk to her that way, be so damn persistent¸ and pretty much tell her that she would be his one way or another.

“Ugh.” She shoved her hands in her pockets, feeling the bite of fall right around the corner. It was going on eight at night, and after getting some drinks and diner with a friend, she had opted to save the money she would have spent on a cab, and walk home. Her apartment was only a few blocks away, and after the three watered down Long Islands she was feeling pretty damn brave to be walking alone. There were several people still on the sidewalks, mainly young teenagers that should have been inside and getting ready for bed. The sound of their laughter, of a few bottles breaking, and then of their voices drifting in the distance as they ran off filled the chill night air.

The streetlamps had this muted yellow glow to them and bathed the cracked and old sidewalk in the light. The sound of another bottle breaking came in the distance behind her, and she glanced over her shoulder. She should have gotten a ride home with her friend, but the booze had been going through her bloodstream, and she had walked this path a million times. He might be a dangerous and violent man, and do things that were illegal and unconventional, but she knew he wouldn’t hurt her. She knew that for a fact. Marra had even heard talk about how Joey and a few of his guys had made someone “disappear” after they had found out he had raped a young woman in town. They were ruthless no doubt, but they protected this town, and as long as the people in it didn’t fuck with them, they protected them, too.

The street suddenly got so quiet, and she wrapped her light jacket around herself and walked faster. The alcohol was still moving hard through her, and it felt like with every pump of her heart the liquor was moving fast and fierce through her veins. The sound of her heels clicking on the pavement seemed too damn loud, and then she heard it. Stopping and spinning around, she scanned the street behind her. Everything was so still and silent all of a sudden, but then the sound of someone whistling came through like an ominous beast.

She might have only been a few blocks from her apartment, and she most definitely should have had her girlfriend or a taxi take her home, but right now all she could picture in her head was being the next rape victim in a very sad story. Bourbon was a safe town because of the Bacelli crew, and as much as she hated to admit that, hated to even think that a group of mobsters made sure everyone was okay, it was the truth. She saw a few businesses up ahead with their neon lights still on, but this was the edge of town, and because of that it was a bit rougher. She wasn’t about to go into the only strip club in Bourbon, the one that she knew was part of the Bacelli fortune. And she wasn’t about to go into the bar that was also run by Joey and his men. God, this town was run by them, was controlled by them, and she couldn’t turn around without seeing something that belonged to Joey and the Bacelli crime family.

Her heart thundered in her ribs, and she knew she shouldn’t have ever come here, shouldn’t have set down some kind of roots, but then again what else was she supposed to do? Relocate again because she couldn’t handle the feelings she had for a very bad man?

Tightening her hands on her jacket, she turned back around and increased her speed. She saw her apartment building across the street, the dim streetlight lamps casting that disgusting muted yellow glow on the brown brick old-ass building. She looked both ways before crossing the street, and started walking faster when she heard the low whistles of a man close behind her. Marra reached into her purse and searched for her pepper spray. The bar with the neon OPEN sign in the front window beckoned her. She knew she’d much rather chance a bunch of drunks and bikers than deal with some would-be rapist that thought she was an easy target. When she walked past the alleyway between the bar and another building, one where the light didn’t penetrate, the sound of a deep male voice had her stopped and glancing over.

She couldn’t see anything, but the sound of footsteps coming closer to her had her turning and holding the pepper spray out in front of her. There was a man a few feet back, dressed like he had been sleeping under a bridge for a year, and even the scent of his stench came at her like a wrecking ball.

“You sure are pretty,” he said in a low whisper, and took a step closer. She moved one back, kept her focus on him, and the spray in front of her.

Before she could say anything, or run for that matter, voices from the alleyway came through.

“I didn’t tell them anything. They don’t know that I’ve been talking to you.” The clearly frightened and frantic male voice had her squinting into the darkness, but then she snapped her gaze back toward the man that had been advancing on her. The sound of the gun cocking had him stopping, and as if that was all he needed to get the fuck going, he glanced at the alleyway, and then turned and walked away from her.

“I’d like to believe you, Mario, but there is talk that the Bacellis know you’ve been running your mouth.”

The other man started crying hard, wracking sobs, and Marra knew she should turn and leave, but she was frozen to the spot. The darkness started to fade as her vision cleared. She could see two people, one of them pushed against the brick wall as the other guy held a gun to his head. She thought she might pass out from the endorphins moving through her.

“Please, God, Phil, please don’t do this.”

“Tony wants loose ends tied up, and since Michael was clipped, you’re the next to go. Besides, you didn’t hold up your end of the deal.”

“I need more time. Just give me more time.”

“Sorry, but time is not something that I have to offer. You didn’t get us the information on the money and how to get into the heart of the Bacelli crew, and Carlos is tired of waiting.”

The other man was crying harder now and starting to mumble incoherent words. “My wife. God, just let her go.”

The man holding the gun started to chuckle. “Mario, your sweet wife is now Carlos’s whore. She might have been innocent in your involvement in ratting out your own fucking crew, but Carlos will dirty her right up.”

And then the sound of a gun going off filled her head, had her ears ringing, and had her stumbling back. She fell over the curb, landed on her ass, and felt her wrist twist painfully as she landed on it wrong. But Marra held in her cry, especially when the man that had just been shot fell to the ground in a slump of lifeless bones and flesh, and the killer turned and faced her. The shadows passed along his face, concealing who he was, but the closer he stepped toward her, the more she scrambled back. Her voice was lodged in her throat, and the pain from her hurt wrist speared right up her arm.

He stepped out of the alleyway, glanced left and then right, and then looked down at her. He bent on his haunches, and she swore she could smell the murderous intent coming off of him. The fact he stared right into her eyes, allowed her to see his face, and knew she had seen him kill someone, told her she was not going to make out of this alive.

“I have to assume that from your expression you saw what I just did?”

She swallowed but didn’t answer.

“And you have to assume how I have to handle that.” He
tsked
and reached out with his gun to pick up a strand of her hair off her shoulder. “Such a shame, too, because you are pretty fucking hot.” And then he grabbed her wrist, hauled her up, and pulled her back toward the alleyway.

“No, no, no,” she repeated over and over again, and then realization dawned on her. He slammed her against the brick wall, and she held the small can of pepper spray, lifted it, and sprayed it right in his eyes.

He howled in pain, and she turned to run off, but he snatched her hair, and yanked her back hard enough that she slammed against the ground. The air left her, pain coursed through her skull, and the pepper spray rolled away. The scent of blood filled her nose, and she turned her head to see the lifeless, dark eyes of a corpse staring right at her. She screamed, finally finding her voice, and tried to stand. But blood coated the ground beneath her, her head and wrist roared out in agony, and fear made her feeling lightheaded.

“You stupid fucking
puttana
.” The man turned and faced her. He kept rubbing his eyes, but when he saw her he reached out and tangled his hand in her hair. Then he pressed the barrel of the gun to her forehead, and started saying a string of Italian. But before he pulled the trigger the sound of a gun going off filled her ears once more, and the warmth of blood sprayed across her face.

He fell to the floor, and she opened her mouth on a silent scream. His blood covered her face, hair, and chest, and her heartbeat filled her ears. The man now standing in front of her was shrouded in darkness, but when he crouched on his haunches and the light from the streetlamp covered his face, her heart stopped in her chest when she saw who it was.

Joey Bacelli.

****

And she was out cold. Whether it was from the injuries she had, or the fact she was freaked the fuck out, Marra Santos was out like a damn light. Joey picked her up in his arms easily and moved away from the now two lifeless bodies on the asphalt. Little Johnny took another hit from his cigarette and flicked it away.

“What do you want me to do about the bodies?” he asked in a low voice. The streets were quiet right now, but he hadn’t put a silencer on his gun, and so shooting the motherfucker that had just been about to take out Marra would surely have been heard.

“Call the cleaner,” Joey said and took one more glance at Mario. The traitor had found his fate at the end of the gun-barrel of the Bacelli rivals.

“Look at this fucker,” Johnny said and reared his foot back to kick Mario in the gut. The punt was so damn fierce that Mario’s body skidded across the alleyway. “This fuckin’
pucchiacha
got it easy,” Johnny said on a growl. “I would have taken my fuckin’ bat to his traitorous ass.” He grabbed his cell from inside of his jacket and called Luciano, the Bacelli cleaner that came to places and took care of the blood and bodies. It was a sick fucking job, but Luciano was also one twisted and demented man, and Joey swore he enjoyed finding creative ways to get rid of the bodies they didn’t want found.

Joey carried Marra, who was still out cold, over to his car. Johnny and he had been leaving the bar where Mario was supposed have shown up. But it was clear they had been wrong about the once tight Bacelli informant. The fucker hadn’t just been running his mouth when drunk, but had been working behind their backs with the Gondalo crew. The fact that they had gotten a call from Mario just half an hour before they stepped out of the bar, him telling them that he wanted to meet up and talk about some future jobs they had given him, told Joey all he needed to know. Mario had sounded sketchy as hell, nervous and twitchy, and he knew better than to bring up shit on the phone that was “work” related. So Mario had been in deep shit with someone, either the Gondalo or the Feds, and he was trying to find a way out.

But seeing his dead body staring up at him from the ground, with a Gondalo bullet in the middle of his forehead, told Joey that he had turned his back on the family for some fly by pussy crew that thought coming into Bourbon and taking what wasn’t theirs was going to happen. He felt his cell vibrate in the front of his pocket and put Marra in the backseat before answering it.

“Yeah?”

“Found out from Seth that Mario hasn’t just been running his mouth at the bar, but trying to cut a deal with the Gondalos.”

“Old news, Alex. Just saw Mario with a hole in his head thanks to one of their guys.”

“Well shit.”

“Yeah.” Joey scrubbed a hand over his face and glanced at Marra. She was lying on the backseat, and the skirt she had been wearing today was hiked up her thighs. God, he shouldn’t be thinking the filthy fucking things he was right now, because she was injured and in shock. But the bastard part of Joey couldn’t help but take in the tanned fullness of her thighs, or how the hem of the skirt stopped right where he would have been able to see her panties. “Fuck.”

“You okay, Boss?” Alex asked, sounding concerned.

“I’m good,” he responded, knowing that things were far from okay because some motherfuckers had managed to turn a promising guy in their crew. “But Marra was nearly executed by the fucker I just laid down.”

“The café chick?”

“Yeah. I’m taking her to my place until she wakes up. I need to know if she heard or saw anything that can help us.”

“Boss,” Alex said softly, but with more concern in his voice. “She could be a liability now. She might know shit that she shouldn’t.”

Yeah, he knew that, too. “Don’t worry about her, I’ll handle it. Just figure out why the hell Mario flipped on us, because it doesn’t make sense.” He disconnected the cell and shoved the phone in his pants pocket. He then took off his suit jacket and laid it over her legs. He knew that she was a liability, and that if she knew anything that she shouldn’t about the business he’d have to handle it. He could have just finished her off right in the alleyway and let Luciano handle it, but Joey wanted her, and letting her get hurt wasn’t an option.

For the last year he thought he had just wanted to fuck her desperately, and every time she turned him down it just made him want her more. But then when they had walked out of the bar, about to hunt down Mario and find out the truth, he had heard
her
scream. The fact he had known it was Marra had sent a jolt of awareness through him. And then he had seen her across the street getting dragged into an alleyway. Everything inside of him had gone on alert, and this white-hot rage moved through him that someone thought they could touch her. The possessive and territorial side of him was something he had never felt for a woman, but it was intense and powerful, and he wasn’t about to ignore it. Then he had seen her getting tossed around like a ragdoll, and that gun pointed to her head. He had been so fucking angry, but the calm of the kill had come upon him. He had gotten his gun out, placed the barrel at the back of his enemy’s head, and blown his brains out. Joey had never felt the relief that had coursed through him as he did at that moment when he had pulled that trigger. He had killed a lot of people, bad men that deserved to die because they had done heinous things, or had turned their back on the family. But this kill had been different. He had done it because he wanted to protect the woman he wanted.