Brutal (26 page)

“She’s not fucked up.”

“Yeah, man, she is,” he says. “Nothing wrong with fucked up, though. We’re all fucked up.”

“I love her,” I say. “I miss her; I’m her pumpkin and her tree.”

“Yeah, whatever
that
means. We’ll get her back,” he says. “When we do, don’t push her away.”

“They stopped,” I say. “Alright, I’m going to patch in. I don’t want to miss anything.”

“
W
e’ve arrived,” he says opening my door for me. “Come.”

I follow, only because the sooner we talk, the sooner I can leave. I miss Rogan. I had nothing to say on my way to Tony’s house. I took the time to run our argument through my head over and over again. I was wrong. I treated Rogan like shit, and he didn’t deserve it. I’m not changing my mind on seeing this through, but he’s as vested in this case as I am. He’s protected me and has been honest with me from the start. He deserved more from me.

I looked down at my phone several times, wanting to text him and say  I’m sorry, but when I realized I didn’t have his number it was all I could do not to punch the window out. How do I not have his number? Dammit.

Tony’s home was everything I expected, and yet it wasn’t. It was small, considering the area, but immaculate like the man. Hardwood and granite throughout, nicely decorated too, I suppose. You know, if that kind of shit mattered to me. It’s a house, not a home. Not like Rogan’s, with sparse yet worn and comfortable furniture. I don’t like it here. This house is cold. Although the looks he’s giving me are anything but cold, I still don’t belong here.

“I promised you dinner,” he says. “What sounds good?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I say. “Whatever you serve, I’ll eat.”

“I see,” he says. “In that case, we’ll have Italian.”

He steps into the kitchen to place our order, and I look around his living room. Again, it’s clean. Too clean. I venture down the hall into his office, and once again it’s practically sterile. What does catch my eye are various pictures of me. On the platform, laughing at something Max said. Me at the range. Me and Macy sitting on her porch. Me moshing, and even one of Tony and I when we met the guys in 5FDP, courtesy of one of his contacts.

One of the best memories I have was when Tony called in a favor, bringing Eminem into the club for a quick performance. Coolest fucking guy ever. We got to talk music, about his life, and what he’s got lined up next. My only regret was that I didn’t have a picture to show for it. Yet, here it is, live and in color on Tony’s wall. Fucking Tony, always one step ahead. I used to admire him for it, but it’s not admirable when it’s at my expense.

“One of my favorite memories of us,” he says, pointing.

“Where did you get these?” I ask. “Why would be a better question.”

“Where doesn’t matter,” he says. ‘Why? Because this is as close as you’d ever allow me to get to you.”

“You wanted to talk,” I say, changing the subject. “So let’s talk.”

“You’re in danger, baby,” he says. “Have been for some time, actually. Whoever wants you wants you bad enough that he was willing to steal women to get your attention. When that wasn’t working quickly enough, he somehow got his hands on Macy’s ‘sedative’, and began using that to subdue the women, again getting your attention. My guess is, whatever you did to the two guys outside of Rose’s either pissed him off or impressed him. Either way, I believe…well, we believe he’s known about your, ah…hobby for some time. Max and I fear he plans to take you next. What we can’t figure out, is why you’re willing to let him.”

“I’m not going to
let
him do anything,” I say. “I started getting suspicious a few months back, when Rhonda went missing, I told you about that. I was going to look into it more, but other things came up. But now with Peaches and Baby, just to name two that I know personally, it made me reconsider looking into it again. The grab outside of Rose’s was sloppy, and they dosed her so hard, she was in a coma last time I checked. So here’s the million dollar question…Why me?”

“You are the ultimate prize, baby,” he says. “If he’s a trafficker, like we think he is, if he knows who you are and what you do, which we assume he does, getting you would be like winning the Superbowl. You’re the ultimate female. Gorgeous, tough, talented, unbreakable; but essentially alone.”

“Do you think this person knows me personally?” I ask. “I don’t keep in contact with anyone from my past.”

“I wish I could say,” he says. “Max and I have twisted this from every angle, and we can’t make a solid guess. I know you’re pissed we held out on you, but had we not, you’d have shifted your focus, and we can’t afford to give him an opening right now. I know about your past, I also know that men vie for your attention often, and you always refuse. You aren’t exactly an open book, baby. Maybe you spurned him? Maybe he’s insane? We really don’t know. However, I should add that he upped his game when we hired your guard. He’s pissed, he’s acting out now and that’s what no one wants to tell you”

“You believe he’s the one who followed me home?” I ask.

“I do. I also believe he’s getting desperate, and he’s likely to make a move soon.”

“I’ll be ready, then.”

“
We’ll
be ready.”

“You will not take my choices away, Tony,” I say. “If this person wants to try me, then let him try. I want those girls back, I want answers, and then I’ll watch him die.”

“Have you no value for your own safety?” he asks. “Your own life?”

“Not since I was seventeen, no,” I say. “This isn’t just about me. Macy is in danger, too. She’s my best friend, and I won’t stop until I have answers. Now Rogan? He doesn’t deserve this shit either. If I have to kill to do it, so be it. You know this, don’t act shocked.”

“We don’t know that he’s the boss, baby,” he says. “So you kill him, fine. What if he’s just a pawn in a bigger game?”

“Then I kill every player in the game.”

“Why haven’t you gone to the Captain, then?”

“He’s dealt with enough from me,” I say. “He deserves peace.”

“He staged an arrest to protect you,” he says. “Even though he knows you killed those two assholes behind the club.”

“I figured as much,” I say. “I told him to leave me be and he has.”

“Fair enough,” he says. “What about
him
?”

“What about him?”

“He’s a problem for me. He’s in my way.”

“Rogan’s presence in my life has nothing to do with my presence in yours.”

“I disagree,” he says. “Until he was brought on to protect you, I’ve never seen you show an interest in any man. The fact that he has your attention, and I do not, bothers me. I can see why this guy is angry, I’m fucking angry.”

“We’re back to that, I see,” I say. “Let me sum up the situation for you. You’re a friend. That’s it, nothing more. We keep each other’s secrets, and I respect that. I have no interest in a relationship with you, physical or otherwise, ever.”

“I could always kill him, I suppose.”

“You could,” I say. “But then I’d have to kill you.”

“Yes,” he says. “I’m well aware of that. I want to give you something to think about…Hold that thought, the food’s arrived.”

We eat in silence. I’m using the quiet to plot my escape, and Tony’s possible death. I need Rogan’s touch right now more than anything. I have no desire to eat this food, to sit at this table, to endure Tony fucking staring at me. I have pieces of the puzzle to fit together, and I need Rogan’s help. It would figure it would take being stuck at Tony’s table to realize how badly I need my partner. As the minutes drag by, he makes small talk. He manages to throw in a few ‘remember when’s’ and keeps giving me those heated looks but I pretend to ignore him hoping he’ll shut the fuck up and focus on eating. Noticing I’m finished, he stands up, takes my plate and prepares to sit back down. I can’t let that happen, despite his kindness and obvious want of me I have to get out of here immediately.

“Thank you for dinner, and being honest with me, Tony. But I really need to go.”

“Before I take you home,” he says. “What I was trying to say earlier was this…Rogan may hold your attention for the moment, but he doesn’t know you, Venessa. And I’m certain that, when he does, he will attempt to change you. He’ll never accept your need to seek revenge. He’ll never be accepting as to why you do it. He will never encourage you to be more; he will want you safely behind him. I, on the other hand, do understand what drives you. I accept you as you are. In fact, I love you because of it. I would encourage you to do what makes you happy, and would expect you to be next to me, not behind. I want an equal, and I’d protect you with my life. Mr. Black and I are two very different men. There’s more to me than what you see inside of that club. I’m there because of you, and I think you know that. There’s also a lot more to the man you’re giving your attention to that he doesn’t want you to see. Think about the things I’ve shared with you tonight, Venessa. I’m a lot of things, but a liar isn’t one of them.”

I nod. What else can I do? Tony pulls my chair out, takes my plate into the kitchen, and escorts me to the garage, with his hand never leaving my lower back. We get back into his Benz (which, I’m not gonna lie, is very nice) and he drives me home.

We didn’t speak, but he did play one of my favorite tracks — ‘I Will Love You’, by Fisher — and I thought I was going to hyperventilate when I heard her beautiful voice singing about loving me. I chanted Rogan, Rogan, Rogan, hoping it would tune out the lyrical assault I was being given. Music keeps me balanced and Tony fucking knows it. The fact that he’d use that knowledge to his advantage felt like a betrayal to me. I can’t ignore lyrics, I never could. Music dictates my moods, always has. He continued his betrayal over and over, throwing his feelings in my face, knowing that the music gets to me, that I can’t ignore it. Therefore, I can’t ignore him. Clearly, I’ve underestimated my opponent.

“Thank you for sharing dinner with me tonight,” he offers quietly.

“You’re welcome,” I say, making a play for the door.

“Baby,” he says. “Look at me.”

“I can’t,” I whisper.

“You can,” he says, taking my face in his hands. Tilting my head up to meet his eyes, he finishes with, “Think about what I’ve said.”

He bends down and presses his lips to my forehead, while his hands tighten on my skin, and I want to scream. I want to run. I want Rogan.

Heading to my loft, I don’t wait for the elevator, I double time it on the steps. I literally fly into my loft, hoping Rogan’s there, only he isn’t.

I stand there, totally lost and wishing that for once I was normal, that I knew how to handle these situations. Wishing I wasn’t a total coward, that I’d show up at his house and beg for his forgiveness, but terrified that he would turn me away and that I wouldn’t know how to handle it.

Standing there, I grab my phone out of my pocket, willing it to ring, but it never does.

Suddenly emotionally drained and heart sick, I crawl into bed praying for the first time in a long time, that the higher power was listening and would spare me this pain.

I
’m a lousy drunk.

He kissed her, I heard it. I fucking heard all of it, and even worse I sensed her panic. Stuck here with Rafe isn’t helping. Do I go to her and apologize? Do I let her cool off? Asking Rafe did shit. Fuck if he knows, and fuck if he helps either. I’m all over the place right now: threats, trafficking, Gallo, walking out on her. Am I pissed at her, or myself?

I’m pissed at myself. It ain’t easy to admit, but there it is. All my talk about fighting the world and figuring it out together was bullshit, because the first time I was tested, I failed. I walked away, granted it was just to clear my head, but look where that fucking got me.

“How many beers have you had, partner?”

“Not fucking enough.”

“We know the extent of the danger now,” he says. “We can protect her better.”

“Yeah.”

“She doesn’t want him, man, what else could she do to prove it to you?”