Shaye
“It shouldn’t be too long now, princess. Your knight in shining armor will be here soon enough, and then I can take care of business and get on with my night.” Frank Cappodamo leans in close, so close that I can smell the stench of stale scotch on his breath. I’d never seen him before, but he’s made me painfully aware of who he is tonight and what he plans to do to those who have the balls to attempt a rescue. “I think it’s fitting, don’t you? Start the New Year out right, putting all vendettas behind me. I need to make room for the new ones…because there are always people getting in the way of the things I need to handle. Shit your boyfriend will never understand since he’s never done anything besides sit at a desk all day. He’s never gotten his hands dirty, has he? Must be nice to have everything handed to you on a silver platter.” He stretches to his full height and struts around the chair I’m tied to, pausing only to drag a fingertip down the front of my shirt, tugging at the deep v-neck. I struggle away from the finger, but that only eggs him on.
He cups one of my breasts and I scream, except the intended piercing sound comes out more like a loud moan because of the duct tape plastered across my mouth. He lets out an evil chuckle. “I hope I don’t have to wait too much longer. I’m getting antsy, and bad shit happens when I get antsy.” He squeezes my breast, and I yelp again. “But, I’m sure I can think of some things to do right now that will keep me occupied.”
My pulse throbs, tears blurring my vision. “Mmnmphoo!”
He leans down, fisting my hair. “What was that? I can interpret it a few different ways, none of which will make you very happy right now.”
I peer up at Cappodamo’s face, tears streaming down my cheeks. He’s about my father’s age, maybe a little older. Beady black eyes that make him look soulless are crowned by thick dark eyebrows that give him a naturally menacing look. He’s built like a linebacker with a thick chest, and I’m pretty sure his beefy hands have snapped plenty of necks. I pray mine doesn’t fall victim to those hands…
“Boss, we don’t have a lot a time left. How much longer are we gonna wait?”
“We wait until they show up!” Cappodamo kicks over another chair. “I didn’t bring this little bitch all the way up here so we could sit around and play with our dicks! Tonight, I make them all pay! We wait for Salesi, and then we take him out. That’ll send a damn clear message to his father. And to Oriani, too. Nobody fucks with my business. Ever!”
Three other men exchange glances and Cappodamo paces the cold and damp room, muttering to himself in Italian. I can’t make out the words, but I’ll bet anything they have something to do with what he plans to do to Nico when he shows up. A shiver runs through me, silent sobs quaking my shoulders. I have no idea how many other men are outside this room. I only saw a few as they dragged me inside.
Questions explode through my mind like bullets, and piecing together this story while consumed by fear isn’t the easiest feat. If I hadn’t left Nico tonight, none of this would be happening. They’re going to kill him because of me. They’re going to extinguish the one bright spot in my life because I had to walk away. If I’d have let him explain, none of this would be happening. We’d be at home in his bed, making love into the New Year. Instead, he’s walking into a death trap, and I have a front row seat.
I squint through the tears, a moving shadow catching my attention. The other men don’t notice anything. One of them pulled out a bottle of some amber-colored liquor and now they’re doing shots of it. But not Cappodamo. No, his face is twisted into a grimace directed straight at me. I try not to move my head in the direction of the shadow, knowing it will only cause Cappodamo to follow my gaze. And something tells me I want his attention focused in the opposite direction.
A loud bang from somewhere outside makes me jump and the guys all drop their shot glasses and pull out their guns. They creep toward the narrow hallway just outside of this room. Something drags across the floor. Something heavy.
“Ahh! Sonofabitch! I’m fucking leaking out here!” A deep voice grumbles loudly from outside of the room. “I need help!”
“What the fuck?” Cappodamo cocks his gun and nods to one of his guys. “See what the hell that is. Now!”
A short, husky thug peeks around the wall, gun pointed, and then disappears, only to report back a second later. “Man down. He’s been shot, and he’s unarmed.”
“Drag his ass in here now!” Cappodamo bellows.
I gasp as the thug drags Rocco into the room, dumping him at my feet. “Well, well, look at what Tomaso dragged in. Rocco Lucchese. I heard you came back. Ready to fuck shit up again, huh?’
Rocco pulls himself to a seated position, mumbling in pain. “Yeah, well, I walked into this shit show to redeem myself and took a bullet instead.” He winces, clutching his side. My eyes widen at the blood stain that has traveled from his lower abdomen to the top of his leg. Holy hell, who shot him?
“Who sent you, you little cocksucker?” Cappodamo presses his hand over Rocco’s, and Rocco yells, his face twisted in excruciating pain.
“Salesi. He told me he was on his way, but I guess he didn’t give a fuck enough about Shaye to get himself over here in person. Instead, he sent me into the crossfire.” Rocco shifts, letting out another loud moan. “Fucking pussy.”
Cappodamo flips over the table, sending shot glasses and liquor flying into the air. “What fucking crossfire are you talking about? If Salesi isn’t here, then who the hell is?”
In the distance, a slew of gunshots echo into the air. A slow grin lifts the corners of Rocco’s lips. “The fucking Russian bratva, you asshole. I think they may have a fun way to ring in the New Year. Buckle up, bitch. Shit’s about to get real.”
Another string of mini explosions sends a violent shudder through me. My fingers, almost numb from being bound so tightly, tremble and shake. I have no idea what the bratva is or what the hell they are doing here tonight of all nights.
Cappodamo points his gun at one of the men and orders him outside. “Those Russian bastards! Is Ivanov here?” He presses his finger into Rocco’s wound again and Rocco unleashes a string of expletives in response. “Is he?”
The other two goons creep around the opposite side of the room. Cappodamo stands over Rocco and swings the gun across his face.
Rocco groans and spits blood at Cappodamo’s feet. “Let’s just say that pretty soon you’re gonna wish the taste of blood was the only thing you experienced tonight, fucker.”
Cappodamo drops to one knee and grasps Rocco’s neck with one of his hands, his other one now pointed at me. “Tell me who’s out there now or Princess takes one between the eyes.”
A muffled sob escapes my throat, halted by the tape yet again. Rocco squirms in Cappodamo’s grip, and a series of bullets ricochet off the concrete walls outside of this room.
One of the guys’ panicked voices shatters the silence. “Tomaso and Luca are down! Boss, there are six of them coming in now. Six! Get the fuck—"
Out.