Bones: Broken Bones MC (22 page)

Dominic

I had one more call to make. I punched in the number of the phone I’d given to Isabel. “You better fucking answer,” I growled. But the rings echoed into the stale silence. A dozen, thirteen, fourteen rings went by without anyone picking up at the other end.

Motherfucker.
I’d told her to keep the phone close, hadn’t I? What was so hard about that? All she had to do was hold onto the goddamn phone.

“Hello?” Someone had answered my call. I heard the sound of heavy breathing, but no words being spoken. “Isabel?”

A dry cackle speared through the earpiece. “Don’t bother chasing us,” drawled the voice of a husky man, “we’ve already fucked her raw. You can pick up her body at the transaction tonight. Though, I warn you,” he continued, “it will be dripping with a dozen strangers’ cum.” He hung up before I could say a word.

I pulled the phone away from my ear, staring at it in horror. What the fuck was happening? Who had taken her? And how did they know about the transaction?

“What are you doing?” came a sharp voice.

I looked down the hall to see Emilio standing there, framed by the low ceiling of the corridor. His arms were crossed over his gut and his eyes were narrowed suspiciously as he stared at me where I was crouched in the corner. I tucked the cell phone away hurriedly, hiding it from his sight.

“Couldn’t find the bathroom,” I lied, saying the first thing that popped into my mind.

Emilio pointed a finger at the door right across from me. It was marked with a metallic plaque that read,
Bathroom—Men Only
. “It’s right there,” he said. His voice was dark and low. I couldn’t get a read on him. All I knew was that this didn’t look good for me.

“Oh, right,” I stammered. “Can’t believe I missed it. I’ll, uh, just go ahead and piss real quick, then.”

“Hurry back,” Emilio told me. “We’re about to get started again.” He gave me one last glare before turning and disappearing around the bend.

I let loose a long exhale. Emilio suspected something. He had to. I would’ve done the same, if I’d caught someone crouched in the corner lying as blatantly and badly as I had done. But what would he do about it? Would he tell Antonio? I gulped. Everything was crumbling all at once. I hoped I’d find a way to make it out of this shit storm with my skin intact.

I waited for a full minute after Emilio had gone before hustling down the hallway after him. I burst back into the meeting room, running a hand over my head as I fell back into my seat.

“Nice of you to join us,” Antonio intoned. “We were just planning for this evening’s festivities. Everything is shaping up to be lots and lots of fun.”

The way he was smiling, I knew it would be anything but fun.

Isabel

I swam back into consciousness, a horrible taste in my mouth, but for some reason, the world was still black. My wrists were encased in metal cuffs, held high behind my back. My shoulder was crying out in pain at the uncomfortable position in which I was pinned. I twisted my head left and right and realized that I couldn’t see because there was a hood over my head.

“She’s moving,” growled a voice in the distance. It echoed in the room. I heard the wet plink of liquid dripping to the ground. Where the hell was I?

“The drugs must have worn off. Take off her hood,” said a female voice. I knew that one. Angela.

Heavy footsteps trotted over to me. The hood was ripped suddenly off of my head. I squinted hard against the bright fluorescent lights overhead. It took several long blinks before my vision had everything squared away.

Angela stood in front of me. She was dressed as well as always, in a tight dress made up of black and gray cotton panels stitched together. She tapped one toe on the concrete floor impatiently.
 

Next to her stood a man I didn’t recognize. He was fat, with floppy jowls that were desperate for a razor to get rid of the ugly whiskers scabbing across them. He wore sweats and a tank top, stained. His eyes were set far apart from each other, but they protruded like a fish’s.

“How much longer?” Angela fired at the fat man.

He shrugged. “Not sure. Can’t be much, though. It’s almost midnight.”

She sucked her teeth in annoyance. Her gaze swung to me. Her eyes, iron gray, showed not the slightest shred of mercy. “Why do I have to keep dealing with you?” she snapped.

I was too bleary to offer any kind of an answer. The remaining tendrils of the drug in my system clouded my thoughts, making it hard to focus on any one thing. I looked back and forth from Angela to the man, my eyes refusing to settle.

She stalked towards me and came to a halt. Her head blocked out the light above. It cast a halo around her face, illuminating her blonde hair like it was on fire. “Over and over again, you keep finding your way back into my life,” she said. “Like a cockroach. A parasite. A fucking leech.” She spat in my face. “You have always been a cockroach. Ever since you were born.”

Angela’s words didn’t make any sense. Ever since I was born? She’d only known me in the time since I was taken from my daddy and brought to the Capparelli mansion. “What are you talking about?” I stammered, confused.

She smiled grimly. “You don’t know, do you? Stupid bitch, never even bothered to find out.”

I shook my head, trying to clear the cobwebs and find some sense in all this chaos. The room around me was filled with pipes leaking fluid. They looked old and rusty, as if ready to burst at any moment.

Angela sensed my confusion. “Where’s your mother, Isabel?” she chanted in a childish sing-song voice. “Eh? Where is she? Don’t you know?”

“She’s in, um…California. She ran away. She didn’t like the cold.”

Angela’s face twisted into a mocking scowl with each word I said as I repeated the story that Daddy had always told me. When I finished, her laugh echoed off the metal piping. “Idiot girl. You killed her, Isabel. You killed her. You killed our mother.”

I blinked hard. The lights were so bright and the pressure in the room was giving me a headache. I couldn’t have heard her right. Did she say
our
mother? That made no sense. My mouth flopped open uselessly like a fish as I tried to form the question I wanted to know the answer to.

Angela beat me to it. “You heard me.
Our
mother. The one you killed. You kicked in her stomach. She was driving, and you kicked so hard that she crashed. She died, but for some godforsaken reason, you didn’t. You survived.”

I was reeling. This was information overload. There was no way it could be true. But one look at Angela told me that it was. I couldn’t deny the certainty of the hate written across her face.

“Why do you think I’ve always hated you, Isabel?” she taunted. “You killed my mother. Our father was a piece of shit and he deserved to die the way he did. But she didn’t deserve that. Why did you do it?”

She tilted her head to the side. She seemed to genuinely expect an answer from me. I didn’t know what to say. “I, uh, I, how…” I stuttered. My tongue felt fat and numb in my mouth. It wouldn’t work properly. My throat seemed to be closing.

“It doesn’t matter,” she snapped. “You are going to die tonight. Both you and your lovely new man.” Her smile broadened by one perfect tooth. “Shame. You two seemed so perfect together.”

She whirled around to face the man in the sweats. “Fuck her up,” she commanded. She clomped out of the room, leaving me alone with him. The man grinned like a pig, then began to walk towards me, tugging down the front of his sweatpants as he drew closer.

I screamed and screamed, but there was no one around to hear me. Try as I might, I just couldn’t stand up.

“Looks like it’s just you and me,” he drawled as he stopped a yard in front of me. He had one hand shoved down the front of his pants. He reached forward with the other and cupped my chin. I yanked at my chains. They were locked too securely to offer much in the way of wiggle room. I wasn’t going anywhere.

“That lady sure does hate you,” he remarked. “She was tellin’ me all about it. Seems like she’s been out to make you suffer for a long, long time. Well,” he sighed, stroking my cheekbone with one rough thumb, “I’m just doing my own small part to help her out. That’s its own reward, ain’t it? Helping out your fellow man? Or woman, or whatever? Of course, a little piece of ass like yourself ain’t a bad side benefit. And the money. That’s nice, too.”

His eyes glistened. I saved up all the spit I could in my mouth and fired it into his face. He dropped my chin, surprised, as he fell backwards a few steps and laughed. “Feisty, well, I’ll be damned. Didn’t see that one coming.” His eyes narrowed. “But if I were you, I’d be saving that spit. It’ll help everything go down your throat just a bit easier.” His tone ended in a low, guttural growl as he jumped back towards me and sealed my nostrils between his thumb and forefinger.

I kept my mouth shut for as long as I could. In front of me, I saw him fumble with his member until I flopped forward out of his pants. It was thick, much rounder than Dominic’s, and rose out of a nest of wild black pubic hair. He picked it up with his free hand and stroked it. The thing rocketed into a thudding erection.

I was losing the fight with my lungs. I’d have to draw in a breath soon. But I wanted to keep pushing that moment away. Just a few more seconds. Then someone would save me, right? Just a few more. Just a few more.

I couldn’t hold it anymore. I opened my mouth and sucked in a greedy lungful of air. The man immediately let go of my nose and grabbed my cheeks, squeezing them hard to keep them open. As he did, he rammed himself into my mouth.

I was wrong. No one was coming.

Dominic

Before I knew it, it had begun.

“Strap up, boys,” Emilio ordered as the men crowded around the arms closet. Two foot soldiers stood at the door, passing out guns to each of the men as they trooped by. When they were armed, they stepped aside to check their weapons and test the weight of the firepower in their hands.

There were fifteen or twenty Capparelli men assigned to the raid, along with Emilio, Antonio, and myself. “You’re sure about this?” asked one of the older men who’d been in the meeting. From what I gathered, he’d been an advisor to Antonio’s father for nearly thirty years. They’d been through plenty of wars together, both successful and not. But he wasn’t prepared for this sudden change of leadership.

“Of course I’m sure,” Antonio snapped back. He turned and pointed a pistol between the man’s eyes. “Is there a reason I shouldn’t be?” he asked coolly.

“No, no, not at all,” the man stammered. He backed up with his hands held in the air, a look of fear sprawled across his face.

Antonio took a step towards him, keeping the pistol trained squarely on the advisor’s face. His voice was low and menacing. “Do you think I’m a coward, Giovanni? Do you think I am a
pussy
?”

“Certainly not,” he replied, fingers quaking. “Never, Anton.” He took another step backwards and bumped into a wall. There was no more room to retreat.

Antonio advanced on him further, closing the space to a mere few inches between his face and the trembling face of the man under his gun. “I am not a coward. Say it.”

“You are not a coward,” the man repeated. His Adam’s apple rode up and down his throat. A bead of sweat trickled down his face and slid onto the metal of the gun pressed against his forehead.

Suddenly, Antonio burst into a smile and lowered the gun. He patted the man on the shoulder. “Good. Good.” He turned to face the assembled men. None of us had moved a muscle since the moment the confrontation had started. The atmosphere in the room was brittle with tension. “Boys, this is the beginning of a new era. My era. Don’t let me down. I know you won’t, though…right?”

He swept his gaze around the room, settling on me. As he looked over them, the men nodded their heads furiously. Everyone was desperate to avoid provoking his manic wrath. He held eyes with me the longest. I hesitated, then gave him a curt nod. He smiled again.

“Shall we, then?” he asked.

With everyone armed, Emilio lead us out to a caravan of unmarked vans parked in front of the Capparelli stronghold. We piled in and the vehicles began bumbling down the road. Somehow, I ended up seated next to Antonio. He was staring blankly at the ground. His eyes were riveted, wide open, but his pupils were lax and unfocused. I wondered what the hell he was thinking. He was turning out to be even more of a crazy bastard than I’d expected.

We hit a bump in the pavement that jolted him from his daze. He turned to face me. Fishing the chain from around his neck, he pulled it up to reveal a vial fastened to the end. There was a tiny silver spoon hooked on the outside of it. He unscrewed the top, removed the spoon, and used it to excavate a heaping bump of cocaine.

“Care for some?” he asked, extending the spoon in my direction.

I held up a hand. “No, thanks,” I told him. “Doesn’t agree with my stomach.”

He shrugged. “Suit yourself.” Then he snorted it into his right nostril. “Ahh,” he said, wringing out his wrists as he tucked the vial back under his shirt. He startled me by slapping himself viciously across the face. “That is the good shit, my friends. That is living.” Every other man in the back of the van kept his eyes fixated on the floor. No one said a word.

The swap had been arranged to take place at an abandoned sewage treatment plant on the outer edge of the city. I craned my neck to look out the window as we rumbled into the compound. Industrial equipment loomed large on all sides, casting twisted shadows from the crescent moon overhead. We cruised around back, then came to a shuddering halt.

The back door swung open, revealing Emilio. “Hope you’re ready, boys,” he called to us. “It’s game time.”

Antonio sprung up and out, leaping to the ground. He landed with a wheeze, then tugged an automatic rifle from the arms of the man next to him. An evil grin spread from ear to ear as he took a huge inhale of the night air. It smelled musty and foul, the remnants of decades-old sewage still lingering on the edge of the breeze, but he let loose a pleased sigh and the lights in his eyes brightened. Then he pivoted and started marching off towards the center of the plant.

The men looked at each other, confused. Emilio lumbered off after him, sweating already, and we all fell in behind. I took up the rear. As quickly as I could manage to do it without anyone noticing, I fired off a quick text to Jawbone.

His response was immediate.

I pocketed my cell phone and sent up a quick prayer. I didn’t believe in God or the afterlife, but tonight I needed some extra help on my side. We all did.

Minutes later, we were huddled behind a massive pipe, nearly eight feet in diameter, peering out over the empty expanse at the heart of the complex. Bright halogen lights beamed overhead, still on and operational for some reason, despite how long it had been since this plant was first condemned by the city officials.

The men breathed quietly. I saw Antonio take another bump of coke. The lights buzzed, and the minutes dragged past with excruciating slowness. I was dying to check my phone, but I had to resist the urge. I couldn’t afford to blow my cover now. I gritted my teeth and waited.

Then, at long last, there was motion. I saw Jawbone emerge from the shadows off to my right, maybe twenty yards in front of where we sat in hiding. He was accompanied by eight of the most veteran men in the club. I recognized them as some of our best fighters. Each of them had seen battle before, and they weren’t afraid of a little bloodshed. The scars riddling their bodies were testament to all the shit they’d gone through in their lives.

The last man in the group was towing a pallet covered with a thick tarp. The wheels beneath the pallet groaned with the weight of its burden—chemical weapons powerful enough to destroy half a city block. It had been an insanely complex and risky process procuring them, involving secret payments and clandestine meetings lasting more than a year. But at long last, they’d come into our possession, and now we were ready to pull off the deal of the century. That is, if this whole plan worked out.

As we watched, Jawbone pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, dialed a number, and held it to his ear. I heard the faint jingle of a ringtone coming from the shadows to my left, and a tiny blue glimmer popped up in the darkness. The glow bounced up and down, and then stepped into the light.

It was a short, lithe Japanese man, dressed in a black suit with a white tie knotted around his throat. Yakuza. He held a cell phone in his hand, the source of the light I’d seen. It was ringing softly. The metal structures surrounding the open courtyard bounced sound around incredibly well, making every hint of sound perfectly audible.

Aside from the phone, the man was empty handed. Jawbone frowned. “Where’s the money?” he asked bluntly. He gestured at the pallet. “We brought what you asked for. Did you bring the payment you promised?”

The man sighed and ran a hand across his smooth, shiny hair. He pocketed the cell phone. “I don’t have the money,” he replied.

“Why the fuck not?” Jaw demanded immediately.

I tensed, eyes narrowed and gun held close against my chest. What the hell was going on? This part of the evening should have been easy and straightforward. Antonio’s plan was to let the trade take place, then swoop in to capture the Broken Bones and the money they would be receiving for the weaponry. It didn’t bode well for things to be changing right off the bat.

The Japanese man licked his lips and sighed again, louder this time. He seemed to be choosing his words very carefully. “We decided to take a better deal,” he said finally.

Jaw turned purple with rage. His words were choked and sputtered. “You…what?”

“It is business, that is all,” the man said. “You must understand.”

“Tell me what’s stopping me from blowing your goddamn head off right here,” Jawbone seethed. He stepped forward until less than a yard separated him from the Yakuza representative. He was white-knuckling the gun in his fist.

“That would be a poor decision,” Antonio announced as he strolled out from behind the pipe. Emilio was frantically signaling for us to follow him. We flowed outward into the courtyard, forming a half-circle around Jawbone and the other Bones, guns aimed squarely at them. They were outnumbered two to one.

I watched as Jawbone’s face went through a series of emotions. He was doing a good job playacting, pretending like he hadn’t known this raid was taking place. “You motherfucker,” he gasped in fake horror.

Antonio smiled. “I couldn’t let you make this much money in one fell swoop!” he announced. “Who knows what you would use it for? You might want to hurt me!” He shook his head sadly. “You say ‘peace, this,’ and ‘truce, that,’ but I don’t know if I can trust you. There’s so much, ah, what’s the word…bad blood between your family and mine. Lots of history. Not pretty.”

“You shouldn’t have done this,” Jawbone said grimly. I looked around as panic began to settle in. Where the fuck was Gordo? He needed to be here by now. I could tell Jawbone was stalling, trying to bide his time until the counterraid showed up.

“Ah, but I
needed
to,” Antonio said. “You were right about one thing: the war between us has gone on too long. Since before I was born, even! It’s time to put the whole mess to rest. Don’t you agree?”

The Bones behind Jaw shifted their weight from foot to foot. The weapons in their hands hung uselessly by their sides. One sudden move and they’d be blasted apart by the Capparellis surrounding them. I could see the impatience in their faces. Everything was on edge.

I heard a clank behind me. I swiveled around to look, and there he was—Gordo.

He heaved his way out of the darkness into the rim of light. Behind him, ten other Broken Bones marched in step. Their guns were aimed at the backs of the Capparelli men, myself included.

Antonio spun back and forth, mouth agape. “What’s this?” he stuttered.

Jawbone broke into a wide grin. All traces of the uncertainty and fear he’d first displayed disappeared immediately. In its place was a gloating pride. “You aren’t the only one with a trick up his sleeve, little Capparelli. What was your name again? Anthony, Andrew…goddamn, for the life of me, I just can’t remember.” He chuckled.

“My name is Antonio,” he glowered.

“Ah, that’s right!” Jaw said in mock celebration, slapping his forehead with the heel of his hand. “Antonio! How could I forget? Well, Antonio, there’s an expression for situations like this. Don’t bring a knife to a gunfight. Gordo, round them up and put these bastards out of their misery. Let’s make this quick.”

All eyes swung to Gordo. He had his gun up on his shoulder, pointed towards Antonio. Everyone held their breath.

But then, suddenly, he switched his aim. Instead of pointing his weapon at Antonio, he adjusted so that now it was riveted directly at the Broken Bones president. “Sorry, Jaw,” he said, sounding almost convincingly apologetic. “Mr. Capparelli made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”

This time, Jawbone’s horror was real.

Antonio’s laugh broke the silence. It was a desperate, haunting laugh, scything up through the contorted factory machinations above us and echoing again and again. He bent over, hands on his knees, giving himself over to the hysteria.

Jawbone’s mouth hung open the whole time. His gun dangled by his side. He wasn’t white knuckling it anymore. Instead, it hung limply from his defeated fingers.

Finally, Antonio calmed down and straightened himself up. He wiped tears from his eyes. “Oh, man, that is truly funny,” he said. “Can you at least appreciate the humor in the situation? You thought you had…but actually, it was me who…ah, jeez, I can’t even. Too funny. Too goddamn funny.”