Body of Trust: A Romantic Suspense Novel Page 19

  “I’m sorry,” he breathes, and my body feels like it’s falling.

  To think, this is how it ends. After the gunfire and kidnapping. After weeks of attempting and ultimately failing at keeping everyone safe … it ends here.

  I can’t say I’m scared. I’m not anxious or sad.

  I’m numb. My entire body feels like it’s frozen in time as I look around the room. The large-scale warehouse with its gray walls and metal piping. The men in green that line the walls like a militia with their guns drawn. A smell of motor oil radiates through the air, and a slight breeze comes from the rafters above.

  I look to the man to my right. The one with golden skin and blue-green eyes. A soldier in honor and a gentleman to the core.

  This is the moment I am going to die.

  In this room.

  Beside this man.

  And I can’t help but feel a nothingness come over.

  I look up at Carlo. He’s talking, spewing words from his mouth. Jesse’s hand takes mine, and the sensation radiates warmth through me. I love him so much. We only had a moment together, but it was worth every second.

  My eyes meet Jesse’s, and I hold on to his stare, hoping that if I look at him and only him while feeling his pulse race against my own, palm to palm, then everything around us will fade.

  I try, but it’s hard.

  The loud roaring of an engine sounds outside the garage door and blares through my thoughts. It grumbles loudly, as if it’s coming up quickly. In fact, it reverberates like a herd of vehicles. Louder and louder, the sound of engines intensifies. The ground seems to be rumbling along with the machines. The thugs look to each other and then to Carlo and back.

  “What the fuck is that?” Carlo yells just as a Hummer comes bursting through one of the garage doors.

  I run and duck behind a piece of equipment in the corner.

  Another door is broken through as a second Hummer comes crashing in and then another. Men in black squad suits hop out of the trucks and descend on the warehouse with guns drawn and blazing.

  Jesse is at my side, and I cling to him.

  “Is this the FBI?” I ask him, completely bewildered.

  “No. It’s the mob.”

  “Amelia!” I hear my name called from someone outside the garage walls.

  I look out the window to see Uncle Enzo standing near a black SUV. I turn to Jesse in confusion.

  “Ask later. First, we need to get you out of here. Now!” He stands and calls over to a man with a gun, “I need cover!”

  He takes a look at me and doesn’t hesitate. Guns are drawn, and the man gives us cover as we run through the crescendo of bullets. Enzo is waving us over, as if it could make us move faster. When we get to the back of a truck, Jesse opens the door for me and ushers me quickly inside.

  Enzo starts driving before Jesse closes the door.

  “Someone needs to explain what happened in there!” I yell, so bizarrely confused by the men in Hummers who just barged through commercial-sized garage doors and rained bullets all over the Lugazzi warehouse. “How did you know we were there?”

  I grimace in pain, making me grab my shoulder.

  “Is she shot?” Enzo glances in the rearview mirror more than on the road.

  “She took a bullet for me,” Jesse explains with a glimmer of a smile on his face.

  “You think that’s funny?” Enzo points at Jesse through the rearview. “I swear to Christ—”

  “Uncle Enzo, it’s okay. Oddly. It hurts like hell, but I’m all right,” I assure him, and then I smack Jesse. “And seriously, what is the smirk for?”

  He covers his mouth with his fist. “Nothing. I’m just the one who always says I’d take a bullet for you, and you did it for me.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  Jesse sits back, feeling pretty good about himself. “Nothing. It just means you love me. Like, really love me. You’re not just saying it because I’m bloodied and bruised and you thought we were going to die.”

  Enzo sways his head from side to side, as if the guy’s got a point. The fact that he’s sitting here, driving us away from danger, has me back to the original question at hand.

  “Enzo, how did you get involved in this?”

  He thumbs back toward Jesse. “Lover boy came to me. Said you were in trouble.”

  I swivel my head toward Jesse so fast that my hair hits my chin. “If you spoke to Enzo, that means you spoke to him before today.”

  Jesse looks at the rearview, as if asking permission from Enzo. He gives a nod to proceed.

  “I didn’t trust Salinger. Not after he was so cavalier with our plan for you. It never sat right, so I went to see your father in the hospital. I told him everything. Who I am, what I did for you last weekend, and every step along the way. Well, I left out a few parts,” he adds, and I widen my eyes, reminding him that my uncle is in the vehicle. Jesse continues, “He told me to go to Enzo. That he’s the only man he trusts. I had them follow you.” He pauses and then turns to my uncle. “What took you so long?”

  “You try getting into that fucking compound. The place is like Fort Knox. We had to change plans and get the Hummers. You know this shit isn’t like the movies. You have to stop what you’re doing and come up with a plan. And it doesn’t take a minute to make a plan. It’s like a goddamn drama, listening to those idiots fight over what needed to be done. I was the one in charge but Joey wants to take a helicopter and Vic thinks a night raid is better,” he rants, and I laugh a little at how charming he is. “The good thing is, you’re both alive. Bad news is, she needs a doctor. So do you.” He grimaces in disgust at Jesse’s face.

  Jesse lowers his head, so he can see his reflection in the rearview. “Man, that is pretty bad. I don’t suppose you’ll kiss me with a face like this?”

  “Hell no,” I say, and he looks at me, surprised.

  “No?”

  “Last I checked, I took a bullet for you. If you really loved me, you would have done the same.”

  Enzo laughs as Jesse shakes his head with a smile.

  “You’re gonna be the death of me, Amelia Sorrentino,” he jokes.

  I scoot up to him, laying my good side onto his chest. “No way. You’re living forever. I have a lot of plans for us.”

  His chest rumbles as his hand comes down onto my arm, holding me gently.

  “One day at a time,” he whispers.

  As I close my eyes, I wonder what the future will look like for me and Jesse. Today, I get to keep him. Tomorrow might not be the same.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Jesse

  “You’re lucky you didn’t puncture an organ,” the doctor says as he finishes the exam.

  A broken rib, nose, some damage to my cornea, and a shit-ton of bruising, but thankfully, no internal bleeding.

  “Good thing the guy with the bat had a shitty swing,” I joke, but he doesn’t find this amusing.

  “Here’s a prescription for—”

  “No, thanks, Doc.” I push the prescription for painkillers away. “I don’t believe in the stuff, and I don’t need it.” As I grimace in pain, my body contradicts my words.

  “You sure about that?” He doesn’t sound convinced.

  I wince through my teeth. “Nothing an ice bath and bourbon can’t fix.” I slide my shirt back on my body. “We done here?”

  “You’re good. Please give Mr. Evangelista my regards.”

  I nod, finding it crazy that I’m having a visit from the “family” doctor. Enzo brought me straight home, and within an hour, Dr. Paul Fisco was at my door.

  “When can I see Amelia?” I ask him, hating that we’ve been separated.

  “When I left her father’s house, she was falling asleep. It was a flesh wound and will heal nicely. She’s in better shape than you are.”

  “Thank God for that. Have a good day, Doc.” I let him out and lock the door behind me, noting that he left the prescription on the table. I tear it up and toss the paper in the trash.

  In th
e seven years I’ve been in law enforcement, I’ve witnessed too many good men fall apart with drugs. It can start as simple as a bottle to dull the pain of a few broken bones. Next thing you know, you’re immune to their potency and looking for something stronger.

  I lift the bottle of bourbon from the coffee table, twist the cap, and take a drink. Today was fucked up. I still have to call the bureau and give my statement. I should have done that as soon as I got home, but I need to get my head straight.

  When I came on this job, it was to get in good with Evangelista and Sorrentino enough to gather evidence into the bid rigging that was going on in the tristate area. The case kept getting bigger and bigger, and while it feels like it’s over, it’s not.

  I still have to turn in Frank Evangelista and Raphael Sorrentino.

  She’s going to hate me.

  The next drink I take is a double. I slam the bottle on the table and curse myself for getting into this mess.

  For the first time in my life, I have something I don’t want to walk away from. But as far as I can see, there’s no way I can stay.

  Growing up, I was the star of the town. A high school football star who could drink at fifteen because I knew how to catch a thirty-yard toss into the end zone. My friends and I stole from the drugstore, sped down Main Street, and started fires on abandoned lots. The cops always looked the other way. My grades were shit. My mother was on me to do better, but I didn’t have to. The teachers were gonna pass me, so I could play.

  I was on top of the world.

  Then, I got into an accident. I was drag-racing on the outskirts of town, being wild and reckless. My car had spun out, and I’d hit another car. The driver’s name was Will, and he was a friend of mine. He broke both legs and spent weeks in the hospital. We brought him cards and wreaths of flowers with wishes to get well. The homecoming game was dedicated to him, and when he came out on the field in his wheelchair and stood up for the first time in months, everyone cheered.

  What they didn’t know was, Will was now addicted to pills.

  Given to him to dull the pain of his injuries, he had been so determined to walk again that he overextended his dosage, so he could work through the discomfort.

  When it came time to graduate, Will never walked. A local dealer had supplied him throughout our senior year. Will had put himself in a coma by prom and was dead by graduation.

  While I got my piece of paper for a certificate I’d never earned, all I could think was, Will would be here if it wasn’t for me.

  A week after graduation, I went to the alley where dealers were known to hang out. I posed as a junkie, and once I got my baggie and confirmed it was the same motherfucker who had supplied Will with his fix, I beat him to a pulp. A citizen’s arrest with the use of my fists. I left that lowlife down on the ground.

  I didn’t think about him again for two years. I went to the same bars, bonfires, and to bed with the same girls. Each night, I’d go home and think there had to be something more. The autobiography I’d read years before sat by my bed. I’d read it over twenty times.

  As soon as I had my associate’s degree, I knew life for me hadn’t been the same for a while. I idolized the FBI and undercover agents. It seemed like a cool-as-fuck career, and I wanted to be like that guy I’d read about in the book.

  As I drove away from my house, I passed that alleyway one last time and was relieved to see it was empty. There were more dealers to get. More lowlifes to put away. I had found my calling.

  My life has been good. I’ve seen a lot of dark, but I’ve witnessed so many walks of life. Whether you have money or not and no matter your skin, gender, sexual orientation, or circumstance, at the end of the day, everyone has the same goal. To make it through the day.

  Everyone thinks tomorrow is going to be better. You know what? It almost always is.

  If you can just get through the shit you’re in, the other side is so much better. You just can’t give up on yourself—or just as importantly, that one person.

  Yes, at the heart of every good person is another one they’re fighting for. We all need someone we love more than ourselves. The one you don’t want to let down. The one you won’t stop fighting for.

  I’ve always held my family in my heart. I know I am a good man they can be proud of. Having that faith has been enough to keep me going.

  Then, I met Amelia.

  Romancing her wasn’t the plan. We had this undeniable attraction. As she came apart in my arms that night, I knew I was done for.

  This woman is mine, and I would do anything to keep her.

  I can’t stop thinking about her. The sound of her laugh … the way she gnaws her thumb when she’s nervous, lifts her pinkie when she drinks a Moscow mule, bites her lip when she’s thinking too hard, or how her mouth forms a perfect circle when she’s about to come.

  Her skin is so soft, and there are three freckles on her stomach. I could savor those freckles my entire life and never get enough. Just as I could listen to her tell stories.

  I walk into my bedroom and turn on the shower, hating that I can’t go see her. If she didn’t need to see a doctor, I would have made her come home with me. That’s the only reason I agreed to let Enzo take her away. I’d thought I lost her today. More than once. That pain will change a man.

  Going to Raphael Sorrentino’s home is out of the question. I’m stuck in purgatory between the New York Mafia and the FBI. Enzo might have helped get Amelia and me out of Dodge, but I know that wasn’t for me. It was for her. As far as they’re concerned, I’m still a narc who is out to get them. They’re one hundred percent correct.

  The case against Frank Evangelista and Raphael Sorrentino continues to stand. You can save a man’s daughter, but that’s shit if you plan on sending him to prison.

  Climbing into the shower, I let the ice-cold water hit my aching bones. There isn’t enough shampoo in the world to get the dried blood out from under my fingernails. I’m covered in dirt and sweat. The water is freezing, but I stay in past the point of pain because it’s good for my injuries. I need to heal quickly.

  When I’m finished, I look in the mirror and can’t believe the shape I’m in. My eye is red and blue, and one is swollen shut. I know that because I can’t see a goddamn thing through it. The doc said to let it heal on its own and ice it every thirty minutes.

  I toss on a pair of sweats and a clean T-shirt. I grab an ice pack from the freezer and apply it to my face while taking another shot.

  It’s time I call the director of the FBI. I always went through Salinger, but now, I don’t know who to contact. I don’t even know if my name is good anymore. The damage that man might have done could be endless.

  I’m about to hit the Call button on my cell when there’s a knock at the door. I’m not expecting anyone, so it’s surprising.

  When I look through the peephole, I see Enzo on the other side.

  I open the door without hesitation.

  “You look better,” he says with a sideways smile. “Like shit but better.”

  “Thanks. Have you seen Amelia? The doctor said she was going to be okay. I need to see her.”

  “I’m not so sure about that. There’s been a development.”

  I can’t see his eyes through his sunglasses, so I have to assume this isn’t good news. “What kind of development?”

  “Mr. Evangelista would like a word with you.”

  Fuck me. “Now?”

  Enzo seems annoyed. “Unless you have a party to be at, yes. Now. Let’s go.”

  I toss on shoes and grab my wallet. On my way out, I wonder if I should have brought my gun.

  If I had known Enzo was bringing me to Villa Russo, I would have worn something other than gray sweatpants and a white T-shirt.

  “You’re kidding me, right?” I ask as we walk up the paved drive.

  I’ve never been through the front entrance of this place. It’s a thousand times different than the service entrance.

  Enzo holds his arm out, so I go th
rough the front door first. “You have a private meeting in the President’s Room.”

  I stop in my tracks and look down at Enzo. Only members are allowed in the President’s Room. I’ve never been allowed in there as an employee.

  “You’re serious?” I ask him, but he just puts an arm around my shoulders.

  “Yes. Now, turn around. I have to frisk you.”

  I do as he said and let him feel me up as he checks for guns, knives, or any concealed weapons I might have on my person.

  When he’s done, he holds his arms up. “I don’t mean no disrespect. You know how it is.”

  “Yeah, I do,” I utter as we walk through the foyer and into the President’s Room.

  Frank Evangelista, the head of the family and boss to the crime family, is sitting at a table by himself. He’s wearing a dark gray suit with gold dice cuff links peeking out the shirtsleeves. His hair is combed back, making him look the opposite of a man who’s been in hiding for a week.

  I walk inside, and the door behind me is closed. Enzo has disappeared, leaving only Frank and myself.

  “Have a seat,” Frank says, not rising from the table.

  I notice he has his back to the wall. It’s the wise-guy way of self-preservation. You always want eyes on anyone coming through the door.

  I sit on the opposite side of the square table. There are no glasses or silverware. Just a white linen tablecloth and his hand resting on top, wearing a thick gold and diamond ring on his pointer that’s probably worth more than my car.

  “I’m sure you’re surprised to see I’m back. After the shooting, Raphael and I made the long and harrowing decision to relocate to different areas in New Jersey to move the danger away from our families. As you know, that plan didn’t pan out very well,” he speaks calmly with his eyes trained on me. “That was quite the show you put on today.”

  I know better than to interrupt a man like Frank Evangelista, so I let him speak. He runs his tongue over his upper gums, making his mouth purse.

  “After Enzo picked you and Amelia up, we cleared out our men, and the police were brought in. They arrived to find Carlo Lugazzi and the upper New York cartel tied up in a sweet little bow. They were arrested on the spot. There was enough guns and drugs in that place to arm a small nation.”