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  “Knees hurt?”

  “No, sir, I’m good,” she gasps.

  I glance down at the flattened skin over her kneecaps. Her dark hue doesn’t allow the redness to show. “Know what?” I pull out and tear her panties off her. “I hate liars. Bend over.”

  Breathing erratically, she turns and obeys, presenting her mouthwatering round butt. I smack it. Hard. She stumbles forward.

  “Don’t fucking move,” I growl. “Hands on the floor.” I take a step closer and smack her again, making her rock forward yet another step.

  She whimpers. “I can’t keep my balance, sir.” She steadies herself, spreading her legs as she puts her palms to the floor.

  Her cunt is hairless and too enticing not to explore further. I slide my fingers along her slit, back and forth, rubbing against her clit, then a little rougher in between her folds. Like a bitch in heat, she begins to rock against my hand, getting wetter by the second. I push my fingers inside her, thrusting, a thumb on her increasingly swollen nub. Then I pull out and slap her right across her pussy, making her scream and shoot forward.

  I snap open my belt and pull down my zipper. “Bend over the edge of the bed.”

  She darts around, her eyes huge and confused, a single tear trickling down her cheek. “Sir, I—”

  “This is what I pay you to do. Get on the fucking bed. Now.”

  I’m rock hard, stroking my cock in my hand. Her eyes dart between my face and my thick length, then her gaze turns distant, as if she gives up all hope. She turns slowly and walks up to the bed, spreading her legs as she falls forward clutching the comforter.

  I don’t like that she gives up already. I want to pull them to the edge of despair, I want them to plead and weep. But I want the first fucking part to last a little longer than this. Glancing over at the curtain that covers my rack of canes and whips, I already know how I’ll pull her right back to the present.

  Pulling off my belt, loop by loop, I then wrap it around my fist and whip it right over her beautiful ass. She’ll plead. And when she does, I’ll fuck her. Hard.

  In my basement, at this very moment, someone else is pleading. This girl will leave the building, a hefty sum in her bank account, probably bleeding, definitely crying, but alive. Roberto won’t be as lucky.

  Chapter 2

  Chloe

  Standing in my pajamas with my toothbrush in my mouth, I jerk hard from a series of loud raps on my front door. My heart jumps to my throat. What the hell? It’s eleven in the evening. As I spit out the foam, I consider pretending I’m not at home, but then curiosity gets the better of me so I sneak out into the hallway and tiptoe to the door. I put my cheek to the wood and peek out into the stairwell through the peep hole, holding my breath. The lights are off on my floor, which is shit because it means they’re broken and I’m gonna have to find the landlady. In the dim light from the next floor, I can make out the shape of a person, a very tall and broad-shouldered person. A man. I live alone. It’s night.

  Fuck no.

  My heart still slams in my chest and I hold my breath as I back away. Three more loud knocks make me jerk and I slam my hand over my mouth to suffocate the whimper that escaped me. I stare at the safety chain. It’s off. My breaths come out as short gasps as I ponder if I should try to hook it, or if I’ll give away my presence. My God. What if he breaks in because he thinks no one’s at home? My knees weaken at the thought and I look around me, desperate to find something to defend myself with. I don’t have a gun. Firearms scare the hell out of me. Holding my breath, I sneak into the kitchen and pull out the first knife I find, a bread knife, then I stay there, pressed against the wall, listening.

  Nothing happens. I don’t hear anything else. It takes a long while before I dare to walk up to my door again and peek out. I don’t see anyone. It’s not until then the shockwave of adrenaline washes over me. Still clutching the knife, I hook the chain into its place and sink down along the door, curling up, hugging my knees. What was that?

  I don’t get any sleep that night. I toss and turn. The knife lies on the bedside table, glinting in the dark. Staring at it, I wonder if I could ever actually use it, or if I’d freeze up like a deer in headlights.

  Who was it? A neighbor? Someone more sinister? The one thing I’ve feared for so long? But why now? I dismiss the thought. It can’t possibly have anything to do with Kerry.

  It’s been a really dark year and a half, I haven’t heard a word from my best friend in the last six months. We kept in touch a little during her first year away. I called her a couple of times. She never called me, but I assumed it was to be cautious. One day her phone was disconnected. I contacted my cousin to see if he knew of her whereabouts and he went to her last known address. It hurt to learn she had moved. Her landlady gave him a letter with my name on it.

  I had to go. I’m sorry. Do what you want with my house.

  Just that.

  I understand. Or no, I don’t understand. It’s been such a long time. Are they really after her still? Tell on the mob and die? Surely she could have gone to the cops in Chicago? I just don’t get it.

  As the dark gives way to the gray light of dawn and the city wakes to yet another day, the sounds of cars, cable cars, and people increasing outside, the things that go bump in the night fade as well. My eyes are warm, dry and itchy, and finally I feel sleep can claim me, but it’s a workday, Friday, and time to get up. Life goes on.

  Late afternoon I gather our little gang, texting Rebecca and Gayle that they have to join me tonight. I need booze. I’ve been working too hard for too long and I’m exhausted. I don’t even know anymore if last night was real or if it was a hallucination. The more time that passes, the more unreal it feels.

  Gayle started playing bass in a punk band a while back and they have a show tonight, so obviously that’s our choice of venue. Shy, timid Gayle has changed so much. She has this secret lover she won’t tell us about. We only know that he’s tall and blond, looks like a caveman but is the most incredible person she’s ever met. That rules out all the emo guys in the band, and we’re still none the wiser.

  I’m not fond of secrets. I carry too many of my own. Secrets can hurt.

  My tall, platinum blonde friend Rebecca hands me a glass of wine. We have squeezed in between a couple of younger guys who threw us interested gazes at first, but who took the hint when we turned our backs to them.

  “I’ve had a shit day,” I shout in her ear and take a large sip of wine. The music makes it hard to hear, but the mood in the club is hot, sexy, and fun and it’s just what I need.

  “Tell me about it,” says Rebecca and launches into a story of how she’s been darting between auditions for small theatre shows and her chef training. I hear about half of what she says, and my mind is too fractured to pay enough attention. I’m not sure what makes me turn around. It’s like a feeling of something crawling along my neck. At the far wall stands a man. He is absolutely still and holds his arms crossed over his broad chest, a bottle of beer in one hand. He’s tall and dark, and even from afar I can tell he’s seriously good looking in a roguish kind of way. Our eyes meet, and for some inexplicable reason a slight shiver runs through me. Then he turns away and the moment passes.

  “Hey, Chloe!” Rebecca screams in my ear just as the music stops. It seems as if half the club turns toward us and Rebecca blushes furiously. “Stupid music,” she mutters, glancing at the crowd. Gayle waves at us from the stage and grabs the microphone, announcing their last song for the night. It’s a slower tune and people light up their phones, waving them in the air to the rhythm. I glance over to where I saw the man, but he’s gone.

  “Earth to Chloe!”

  I spin around and face Rebecca. She’s still slightly flushed, but it can be the heat as well. “Yeah, sorry. I’m… I just thought I saw someone.”

  “You good? You said you’d had a shit day.”

  I shake my head. “Never mind. It’s nothing.”

  Suddenly I don’t want to delve into m
y weird experience from last night. It’s as if I don’t speak about it, it’ll go away. A ghost of a memory runs through me. That shape in the dim light. No face. My eyes dart over to the other wall again and then I scan the crowd, but I don’t recognize anyone, my mind is just playing tricks on me.

  I jerk hard when an arm is slung around my shoulder and I spin to face a grinning Gayle. She’s sweaty and beams with satisfaction. Colored lights play across her face as the spotlights sweep over the jumping, dancing crowd.

  “So what did you guys think?”

  I give her a one-armed hug. “You were absolutely awesome. As always.”

  “Thank you! It was a great set. Kick-ass audience.”

  I grab her chin and tilt her head. “Do you have a new piercing?” A small golden ring glints in her eyebrow.

  Gayle laughs. “Yep. There and—”

  “Do we even want to know?” asks Rebecca.

  Gayle throws us a look full of mischief and purses her lips. “Fine. I need a drink. Sally!” She gestures to get the attention of the bartender who immediately drops whatever she’s doing and comes darting.

  “Gimme something sweet and strong.”

  “Will do, hon,” says the bartender with a husky voice that sounds like she lives on whisky and cigarettes.

  “You’ve got some pull,” says Rebecca, her eyebrows shooting up on her forehead. “We had to wait forever.”

  Accepting an orange-red drink in a tall glass, the ice rattling as she pulls it to her, Gayle waves dismissively. “We play here a lot, girl. Gives us some perks.” She winks and takes a long sip through the straw. “So what are you up to? What are we talking about? Who are we doing?”

  “How pissy our day has been.” Rebecca clinks her glass to mine and Gayle’s and raises it in a toast.

  “That’s depressing. No guys? No fun? What’d you do today?”

  “Let’s talk about your mysterious hook-up,” I say to try to draw attention away from the creepy feeling that has set root in my chest.

  A shit-eating grin spreads on Gayle’s face. “He does like my new piercings.”

  “Get the fuck outta here with your self-mutilation.” Rebecca wrinkles her nose. Self-consciously I finger the little diamond on the side of my nose.

  Gayle laughs. “In fact—” She bites down on her lower lip as she winks. “It was he who demanded them.”

  I gape. “He can’t do that! That can’t be legal.”

  Gayle raises her eyebrows. “I’d say half the things we do would be frowned upon by law enforcement.”

  Rebecca and I spend the rest of the night trying to get our friend to tell us more, but she clams up again. Wine, music, and good company relax me and as I catch a cab my mind feels light again.

  Luciano

  The slam makes the windows rattle. I reach for my gun in its harness under my armpit, pull it out and let it rest against my thigh, out of sight from whoever might enter. If anyone came here with ill intentions they’d be dead before they reached the front door, but one can never be too careful.

  Upset male voices echo in the hallway.

  “Christian!”

  Ivan’s voice is loud enough to boom through the heavy oak door. He rarely raises his voice, and when he does I always pay a little extra attention.

  I relax and put away the gun. My nephew won’t actually make an attempt on my life, even though we’ve had our disputes over the years, some of them leaving bruises on both skin and ego. Throwing my feet up on the desk, I put my hands behind my head and lean back as I wait.

  It takes one more second, then the door slams open and Christian Russo storms in with death in his gaze. He stops and glares at me, his chest heaving.

  I gesture toward him. “Close the door, Christiano.”

  He reaches behind him and shoves it closed so hard the antique marble statues on the bookshelves rattle.

  I throw up my hands. “Dio Mio, nephew. What seems to be the problem?”

  “Don’t fucking ‘nephew’ me, you shit.”

  “I should have you shot like the rabid dog you’ve become. Mind your fucking language when you speak to me.” I swing my legs off the desk and sit up straighter as I pull out a drawer, reach for a cigar and my Zippo.

  Christian pushes a hand through his too-long, messy and unwashed hair and walks up to me, falling down in a chair on his side of the desk. “I’m so fucking tired.”

  “Are you sober?” I cut the cigar, light it up carefully and finally get to fill my mouth with the earthy tasting smoke before I blow it out toward the ceiling.

  He scoffs. “I’m hungover. I got word from the PI yesterday. Still nothing. They’re either dead or out of the country. She’s been gone six months now. Like swallowed by the fucking earth.”

  “This is about Kerry Jackson and the child?”

  Christian looks away and doesn’t answer.

  “I’ve never seen you so bent out of shape for anything. Ever.”

  He sighs. “I’ve never fucked anything up like I did with her.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “That’s true.”

  “You should have just listened to me. She didn’t know shit. There was no reason to send me to kill her to begin with.”

  “You should have done your job and just shot her, not go and fuck her. That’s where you fucked up.”

  He’s silent again, his black eyes flashing.

  “You love this girl?”

  Christian darts up from his chair. “I don’t fucking know! I don’t want her to disappear with our baby. I wanna fucking make things right. She still thinks I want to kill her. Love.” He scoffs. “I don’t know what that is. Do you?”

  I bark out a laugh. “I don’t do love. I fuck ‘em and leave ‘em. It’s dangerous to get attached, Christiano. Look at yourself, you’ve lost it. What’s so special with this girl?”

  “You’ve met her,” he snarls and starts pacing the room.

  I have. A tiny doe-eyed person, scared to death, and still she came here to bargain for her life. An impressive little lady. As it happens, also the mother of a Russo because my nephew forgot to use a condom when he put his cock in her. I liked her and I do see the appeal. I just don’t understand the obsession. The impression she’s made on Christian makes her dangerous because he has become reckless and a loose cannon.

  “I’ve got a mission for you. It’s out of state.” I actually don’t, but I’ll find something. Right now I want him busy and out of my sight. He’ll come around eventually, but clearly it’s taking some time.

  “What? The farther the better.”

  “I’ll call you. Go get yourself some pussy.” I stand and walk around the desk, putting a hand on his shoulder. He’s clearly been working out. His muscles bulge and it feels as if I’m touching a slab of rock.

  He shakes off my hand and I let it fall.

  “Yeah,” he says darkly. “I know what I’ll do tonight.” He spins around and strides over to the door, ripping it open and slamming it shut behind him.

  I shake my head, feeling almost sorry for whoever he hits up, and push the button on the intercom. “Ivan.”

  “Sir?”

  “Have a fucking carpenter come look at the hinges of my office door.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And have someone bring me a Grappa and an espresso.” I let go of the button, but then I push it again. “And a girl.”

  “Any particular flavor?”

  I ponder this a little. Young Kerry flashes before my mind. I’d never go for anyone Christian has claimed for his, out of respect for him, but right now she pisses me off like fuck and I need to take that out on someone.

  “Redhead. Short. Slim.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Chapter 3

  Chloe

  The walls tilt and the floor heaves as I stand before my front door with my key in my hand. I put a hand to my head, trying to make the world stop spinning. I didn’t have that much to drink? Did I? The guys in Gayle’s band joined us, and there might have bee
n shots, and then I think it got a little out of hand.

  I smile as I unlock and enter my dark hallway, lock the door and hook the safety chain properly in its place. I had fun tonight. Tugging the chain a couple of times, I make sure it’s really locked. I have almost, almost left last night’s creepy encounter behind me, but it’s still crawling in the back of my mind. Dropping my bag on a chair, I go and chug down a large glass of water even though my stomach revolts. My headache will be epic in the morning no matter what and this should help at least a little. They say.

  As I stare out into the black night, I try to remember when the last time was that I went to see Charlie, my stray of a younger brother. He called and left a message on my voicemail a few days ago. I haven’t called him back yet. The bastard. When the cops caught him was one of the few times that I was actually glad our parents were dead so they didn’t have to see the mess we got ourselves in. When my other brother, Chad messed up too. I couldn’t take it anymore. I moved from Atlanta as soon as I could and built a new life for myself where no one knew me, making up a pretty story about my background and family. It works for the most part. I’ve been kind of happy. I have a hard time letting people in, trusting people, but I’ve had my little haven. Until everything crashed, until Kerry got involved with the mob. It’s as if darkness follows in my footsteps. I never entirely get away.

  Putting the glass in the sink, I make my way to the bathroom where I stand for a long time in front of the mirror, trying to get rid of the makeup before I brush my teeth. Our dentist dad ingrained it in us since we were little. Brush teeth twice a day, and sweets only on Saturdays. That was before he and Mom got robbed and shot to death.

  My bedroom is pitch black and when I reach out to turn on the light, my fingers touch something soft, warm, and hairy.

  Skin.

  I cry out and try to throw myself back, my heart almost stopping. Strong fingers close around my arm in a vice grip and pull me inside.