Mobster's Gamble: Chicago Mob Series Book 1 (12 page)

The compound is quiet; it is the middle of the night. Moonbeams light my way as I pad inside. Determination settles where fear used to be. I’m like a child returning home as an adult, enlightened. It is a trick of the mind. It is the same as before. The compound is soundless, appearing as if no one is here. I reach for the door knob to the basement. Quick skitters of my heartbeats run across my skin but I won’t let fear get me. A gun and flashlight are lodged in my waistband and a shovel is in my hand.
I can do this,
I repeat over and over. I have to for Simon…and for myself. Carlo can’t keep the horrors in my life away forever because they are scars on my soul. The flesh heals but the guilt and shame stay tattooed there for infinity.

I descend the steps, remembering too much about my recent captivity and the fateful night I ran down here as a child. When I reach the bottom, I set the shovel aside and take out my flashlight, running the beam around the dank cellar. I try to remember the spot.

There!

I take hesitant steps, placing the flashlight where I need it. I wedge the tip of the shovel into the planks of decrepit flooring that was added years later. I push down and the leverage of the shovel’s blade lifts up the strips of wood, one after the other carrying with it the creak and groan of the disturbed boards. Sweat gathers on my forehead and I check the stairs. No one is there.

After I remove the sub floor, below is dirt, and I begin digging. I drop the piles onto the remaining plank flooring. I created a hole within another.

I have lied to myself that I’m not afraid. I am. I am scared of what I will find, or not find. It seems an eternity has passed and that I have dug halfway to hell. I use the sleeve of my sweatshirt and rub it across my brow.

Shrieks rain down from above. My eyes shoot to the ceiling, searching for the source. I drop the shovel and run to the stairs up and out in to the kitchen. I remember the gun that digs into my belly as I move. I take it out, holding it by my side.

The meditation room!

I quicken my cautious pace, checking along the way for people. I hear voices and tiptoe, trying my damnedest to stay quiet. The cold metal of the gun is warming up from my nervous sweat and dirt. My heart thumps in anxiety. This is such a stupid idea. Bile sits at the base of my throat at the thought of seeing Priest or Caesar.

I cared about these people who live in these walls, ate with them, prayed with them. I have to investigate no matter how much terror runs through me. I slip along the wall and peer into the meditation room. Everyone is on their knees with their hands laced behind their heads—backs to me. I drink in the scene, wondering what is happening. Men are hovering behind them, guns drawn like this is an execution. I have to do a double take when shock pours through me. Carlo is pointing a gun at Kylie.

I gasp involuntarily, and all eyes are on me.

Betrayed!

Carlo is as stunned to see me as I am him. His face changes from hard to soft in a blink. He raises his gun, pointing it at the ceiling out of danger of hurting anyone and pleads.

“Anya!”

I run skidding through the hallway to the nearest exit. The front door.

“Wait!” he yells after me.

I bang into the door from going too fast and I fumble to fling it open.

I am looking down the barrel of a gun.

“What the fuck! Anya!” Alex steams. “I could have shot you!”

Carlo catches up to me and rips me around to face him.

“What are you doing here?” he yells at me, livid. “You’re supposed to be in my bed! Sleeping!” He grabs my upper arms, shaking me. He is so angry.

I’m stunned into silence. I lower my head, attempting to put pieces of information together that just don’t match up. Carlo loosens his hold and walks me over to a bench by the front door. Alex is watching us. Carlo gives his head a sharp nod and Alex disappears into the compound.

Carlo squats down in front of me, slipping a piece of my loose hair behind my ear. He is much calmer and has settled down.

“Are you okay?” he asks. I grit my teeth, holding back. He doesn’t wonder why I’ve got a gun I stole from his room or why I’m covered in dirt from the basement. He is worried about me. I look up at the sky scattered with stars, wondering if any decision I’ve made in my life has been a good one.

I inhale and decide that I’m going to be asking the questions because thinking he has deceived me by coming here to kill everyone is on the surface of my emotions.

“What are
you
doing here?” I keep my gaze fixed on his, training my attention. I want answers. I may be scarred inside but I’m not broken. A raw hunger tears at me when I look at Carlo. I want him more than anything else in my whole life. I move the gun in my hand, resting it across my lap.

“It isn’t what you think,” he assures me.

“Then explain it to me.”

She shouldn’t be here. Phase one is the simple part and now she’s intertwined in its implementation. She was sleeping soundly when I left her. I gaze at her dejected face covered in a light sheen of dirt. A deep sense of love erupts, changing how I’ve seen the world for so many years—comfortable, violent existence. Work, never-ending, and I don’t regret anything for a minute. It has morphed into being something more than I thought it ever could. Cold tentacles wrap around my heart; she wasn’t safe at home in my bed. That scares me more than anything.

“This place is going to be destroyed.” I glance up at the building behind her. I give it to her straight; I’m not going to lie to her. She has been lied to so much in her lifetime and I can see betrayal in her eyes. It isn’t what she thinks.

Anya sucks in a terrified breath.

“We are here to move everyone.” Anya’s eyes blink back tears.

“What are you going to do with them?”

“My father has a house on a lake, very secluded. It’s big and we never use it. They’ll be safe there. Doc Howie is going to send in some trusted friends to evaluate the mental state of each one of them.” I rest my hand on her knee, remembering the gun she’s carrying. I glimpse down at it. “If anyone is stable, they will be given some starting out money and sent out on their own. If any of them need to be institutionalized, Doc Howie will take care of it. If any of them are not ready to get out on their own, they’ll be supervised, and can stay by the lake as long as they need to.” I reach out and cup her dirty cheek. “Priest isn’t here and neither is Caesar.” I lean in to hug her because I need to be close. “Did you come here to kill Priest?” I wonder.

She shakes her head, muffling a “no.”

“Then why did you leave the safety of the casino?”

“Follow me.” The solemn and mysterious way she requests it, I do as exactly as she says.

I take her empty hand, the other carrying the gun, and she leads me through the compound to a basement door. Her breathing kicks up and I reach out in front of her, opening the door. She points to the cellar stairs. I steal a glance at her profile and it’s stone. I rub a circle on her back with my hand. “Whatever’s down there, I’ll go you don’t have to come.” She turns to face me and it’s painful to see the hurt in her eyes. I sift through the possibilities of what could be down here that would put an expression that could raise the dead on such a pretty face.

“I have to go.” She shudders as she begins to descend the steps. I gently tug on her arm indicating for me to go first but she shakes her head no. I have my gun up, flanking her, ready if there’s somebody here even though the place has been scoured.

At the bottom, in the dim light, she takes hesitant steps deeper into the basement. I squint, fighting to see better.

“I hadn’t been down here in nine years. I was so afraid of it. Priest knew that when he beat me and tossed me here unconscious.”

Her words send boiling heat through me; shredding Priest apart with my bare hands surfaces. She takes me further in, and I see the beam of a flashlight illuminating a large hole in the floor and a pile of dirt beside it.

Her hand reaches out for a shovel and she jumps down into the hole, digging.

“Honey,” I murmur softly. “What are you doing?” She ignores my first entreaty. I crouch down, stilling her with a hand on her shoulder. “Anya, I want you to stop.”

Tears slide down her cheeks. “He killed Simon,” she says.

I take control of the situation and drop down beside her, taking the shovel away. “Whatever is down here, it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Simon’s death doesn’t matter?”

“Yes it does. He was your friend. He was a casualty of a weak man’s revenge. You’re hurting, I get that. Come away from this place that scares you. It isn’t going to be here much longer.” I hug her to me. We are standing in the hole and she cries. I release her, picking up the discarded flashlight, and the light swings revealing something white in the soil—a bent fleshless finger. Silence passes and I decide to be direct.

“Who is it?”

“Priest’s father.”

Shit! “This is the fucking guy who started this place.” She nods, choking up.

“Priest told everyone he left to go on a mission to save people. He attacked me after I ran away from a ‘cleansing.’” I wanted to ask what the hell a cleansing was. Her face said it all. “I came down here. He found me. He always took me to his bed.” I try to maintain control as she speaks. “Jonah…Priest’s real name.” She sniffles. “He found us down here. His father was trying to reach me as I hid. Priest came up behind him and beat him over the head. We buried him down here.”

“You were just a kid.” I hold her tighter.

“Priest saved me.” The words rolling off her tongue sicken me. Does she really believe that exchanging one psychotic pedophile for a different type of psychopath was saving her? Doc Howie’s words come back to me. I really don’t know what I’m dealing with. One thing I’m very, very sure about is I’m not going to abandon her because of it. I love her.

“Carlo!” Alex calls down from the kitchen. “You down here?”

“Yeah!” I hold her hand, comforting her.

“Everyone is out. It’s time to go.”

“Give us a second.” I seize her shoulders and hold her away so I can look right into her eyes. “I need you to listen to me and you need to take it in. This.” I wave my hand over the area of the grave. “That.” I point to the ceiling above us. “None of it. Not one shred of it is your fault.  Don’t turn your eyes away from me. You are the victim.” Sobs wrack her body and it is gut-wrenching to watch. I hold her to me a little longer before telling her, “Tonight, you are leaving this all behind you.”

She rubs the tears away from her eyes and I see some resolve in them. “Okay.”

“Let’s go.” I lift her out of the hole. I pick up the gun she had and shove it in my waistband then retrieve mine. I snatch the flashlight off the floor and wrap my arm around her waist. “It’s all going to be over soon.”

Carlo puts me in a car near where he found me when I walked back here days ago. Is this really going to make this be over for me? Carlo said Priest wasn’t here. Where could he have gone? The image of Caesar in my mind makes my blood run cold. The interior light turns on and a person gets in beside me—Doc Howie.

“How are you doing?”

I shrug my shoulders. What does he want me to say? I’m happy in a bizarre way that where I’ve lived all these years and suffered under the control of Priest, and in the early days of my life his father, isn’t going to be standing anymore. I won’t be trapped behind its walls or in its belief system that I had rejected within myself years ago.

“Healing doesn’t happen overnight.” Doc Howie seems to sense what I am thinking. “Opportunity and resilience will help you to get there though.” He sits back in the seat, getting more comfortable. “It isn’t an easy life. None are. I’m sure you know by now what Carlo and his family are, what they’re a part of.”  He adjusts his coat. “In many ways, Carlo has been trapped too. He has to live up to expectations, he has to make hard decisions, and he has had to do
things
, sometimes horrible ones, even though he doesn’t want to.”

“So you’re saying Carlo is controlled and has been beaten into submission. He’s had to give his body to someone when deep down he didn’t want to.” Saying the words gives me a stab of jealousy of others who have never had to endure what I have. It’s fleeting but there.

“No. Carlo grew up in a loving family, a very loyal family. But with his family comes different types of responsibility.” He laughs. “Carlo couldn’t just up and join the circus if he wanted to,” Doc Howie attempts to joke.

“Oh.”

“You’ll adjust.” Doc Howie sounds sure, his tone accepting, confident. The life Carlo leads is not so dissimilar to mine. I question whether the comparison is correct.

The driver’s door opens in front of me. Alex slips in, starting the engine. Across from me, the passenger door opens and Carlo gets in. He twists his face to me, leans in and puts his hand on my leg. Alex swings the car around and we travel away from the compound.

“Don’t look back,” Carlo orders gently. I force myself to stay facing forward. A flicker of red in the rearview mirror captures my attention. In the small rectangular mirror, I see it. It’s on fire. The compound becomes engulfed in flames. We are still close enough for me to hear the windows blow out. Carlo reads my mind.

“Don’t! Look at me!” I do. I focus myself on his face, turned toward me from the front of the vehicle. I hear sirens whirling; the fire department is coming. “It will be contained,” he adds.

Doc Howie is beside me. I forgot he was there when his hand lands on my shoulder. “Everything will be fine,” he soothes.

I clamp my eyes shut, shoving all of my feelings down. This is for the best. We need to move on. All of us.

“Kylie?” I ask Doc Howie.

“She is with everyone. They have a long drive, but they’ll get there.”

A sliver of me thinks that maybe I should have gone with them.

*****

Wrapped in Carlo’s arms, I can’t sleep. So much has happened in such a short time. I’m glad that Carlo took everyone away. Priest could have killed someone else from the Anointed Heavens. The contemplation nauseates me. Simon’s face flashes. The poor guy—I really liked him, cared about him.

“Where is Priest? What will happen now?” I whisper into the air in front of me. Carlo’s behind me and he shifts, lifting on an elbow, hovering above me.

“You don’t have to worry about anything,” he reassures me, his gaze is soft, caring. I turn over, entwining my arms around his neck, burying myself.

“Thank you.” Gratitude is an emotion I have experienced for things like not being hit when I thought I would be or an evening that goes by that I don’t have to spend in Priest’s bed. But the feeling is so overwhelming to me at this moment. I am not forced to do anything I don’t want to do. I’m not scared of physical abuse or rituals.

I reach out, caressing Carlo’s face, and run my hand down his cheek to chest. I want to touch him; I want to be with him. My heart races not out of fear but out of attraction and love.

I keep trailing my hand down, tracing the outline of the bulge in his underwear. He stops me.

“Is this what you want?”
He’s asking what I want
.

“I want to,” I murmur, my face flushed.

He flips me so that I am on my back and he plunders my mouth with rough, exhilarating kisses. I moan against his mouth. He lifts the T-shirt I took from his drawer, exposing me. He traces his fingers across my breasts with light touches and goose bumps erupt all over my skin, tightening my nipples. He slips on top of me and the pressure is pure bliss. He aligns our bodies and I could stay this way forever until he kneads my breasts with his fingers, sending white lightning to my sex. This isn’t enough. I trail my fingernails across his skin and arch my back.