Interlude (Rockstar #4) Page 2

  "All done?" I ask her friend.

  "Yep."

  Damn.

  I turn to face Lucy, just a sliver of space between us, as I stare into those brown eyes. I could get lost in those eyes. Maybe someday.

  They call for boarding. I don't move and neither does she. I can't yet. I'd like nothing more than to reach out and hug her close for a long fucking time. Ruben clears his throat, signaling it's time to go.

  "Lucy. It was really great to meet you."

  I reach out and grab her hands in mine, needing to touch her one more time.

  "Thank you. And thanks for the autograph and photos."

  I don't even try to stop myself when I pull her hands up to my mouth and kiss them. When her breath catches again, I know she's feeling the same thing I am.

  She's so familiar, so comfortable. Do I know her? I look at her through narrowed eyes.

  "Have we—" I pause and shake my head. Nah. We've never met. There's no way in hell I'd forget this girl.

  I smile and slowly run my knuckles down the side of her face. When they reach her jaw and hit air, I turn and walk away before I do something stupid.

  Just before I step into the tunnel, I look back, her friend’s pulling her in for a hug. Shit. What the hell just happened? Her friend sends me a wink and I force a small grin.

  Me and the guys make our way to first class and I plop into the seat.

  "What was that, man?" Ruben asks.

  I shake my head. "I don't know."

  Ruben doesn't say anything, and when Kal takes his seat I don’t hesitate to turn around.

  "Who are they?"

  "I caught a glimpse of their tickets when they were boarding. Luciana Russo and Serafina Manzini."

  I nod.

  "Traveling with Lucy's mom and brother I believe. He made a comment about Lucy needing to change her panties after seeing you," Kal tells me with a laugh.

  I grin.

  "She's not the only one," John mutters.

  "Fuck off, man."

  "Hey, she's hot. I don’t blame you."

  I don't know why, but him talking about Lucy like that pisses me off. "Don’t fucking talk like that about her. She's not like the rest."

  "And you know that how?" Ruben asks with a lift of his brow.

  "I don't know how I know, I just know I do." I look out the window. "She's different." So fucking different. And too young. This life would eat her up—what the fuck am I thinking here? I'm not ready to settle down. Not right now. But when I am, it's going to be with someone exactly like Luciana Russo. Maybe she and I will get a chance to meet again some day. If there's a way to make that happen in a few years, I'm going to move heaven and earth to do it.

  My vision blurs as I stare out the window, not seeing anything, just thinking about the gorgeous girl back in coach. I half wish she'd sneak up here, and the other half is grateful she's not going to. She won't. Not a girl like that. Not Lucy.

  She's different and she's someone I won't ever forget.

  Chapter Three

  Cage

  Past

  “I’m telling you Gio, it’s those fucking Manzinis.”

  I knock on the door and hesitate before walking in. Ernesto waves me over, Giovanni looks pissed. He’s not sitting as he normally does. He’s standing behind the desk, hands balled into fists.

  “What did they take this time?”

  Ernesto doesn’t hesitate to answer his boss, and father. He rattles off a long list of weapons that were stolen from last night’s shipment.

  Giovanni swears. “We need to stop these fuckers.”

  Ernesto nods in agreement. Giovanni looks over.

  “Do you know who was in charge last night?”

  “It was Massimo, he was working with Cesare.”

  Gio throws his hands in the air. “Cesare, always Cesare. I hate that prick.” Ernesto grunts in agreement. I stand here, wondering why I’m included in this conversation. Normally Ernesto gives me my assignment and I’m gone. But I know better than to say anything so I just stay quiet.

  Ernesto steps forward. “Do you want me to take a couple guys and handle this?”

  Giovanni hesitates. “You know what it will mean if we do. If we kill him, it’ll be more than stealing. It’ll be about more than territory. It’ll be about blood.”

  “It already is,” Ernesto says. “And now they’re making it about money.”

  Giovanni nods.

  “You know as well as I do Gio, they’re overstepping their bounds, and if we don’t stop them they’ll just keep stepping further.”

  Giovanni sits down in the chair. Elbow resting on the arm, his hand coming up to his mouth where he absently runs a finger across his lip. Contemplating, thinking, weighing all angles of what he’s about to do. I’ve seen him do this before and it ended very badly for the Manzinis.

  Giovanni leans forward. “You take the best men with you and get this done tonight. They won’t be expecting it, not this soon.”

  Ernesto nods. “I want to take the kid with me.”

  Giovanni stares me down with those dark, dark eyes. It feels like he can almost see through me. “Are you ready for this Nickels?”

  I shrug.

  “You know this will be more than a fight. There’ll be blood and there’ll be death. It won’t be quick. Ernesto will teach you how we deal with thieves and our enemies. You’ll go with him tonight and you will help do what needs to be done.”

  He wants me to kill, he wants me to torture. I have enough anger to do both. All I need to remember is my father was friends with the Manzinis. And when my mother was sick, they didn’t give a fuck either. What is it that they say? An eye for an eye.

  I stand taller. “Yes sir, I’m ready.”

  Giovanni nods his approval. “Good, you help Ernesto get everything done and then we’ll talk.”

  Just like that we’re dismissed.

  I follow Ernesto out the door and into the lounge where some of the men are hanging out. He singles out three or four of them and everybody knows something’s going down tonight. None of them look at me in question as I would expect them to. But then again, who would dare second-guess what Giovanni Russo says.

  No one, if they value their lives.

  We head to a private room where Ernesto lays out the plan for tonight.

  When we get to the Manzini warehouse, the gun tucked into my waistband weighs me down. I know what's going to happen. I'm ready for it. I'm just really fucking scared. These aren't some street punks we're shaking down. These are the enemy. The Manzinis. This is our declaration of war.

  "Massimo," Ernesto says by way of greeting, then shakes the man's hand. I watch closely for physical cues since there won't be any verbal ones. It didn't take me long to catch on to how messages are relayed. A turn of a head, scratching of a chin, or lift of an eyebrow is a signal of some kind, and if you miss it, you're as good as dead.

  "Ernesto," the other man replies. He's in his late twenties, like Ernesto.

  "Well, look who we have here, boys." Cesare Manzini. Ernesto stiffens, but holds his fingers rigid, signaling to hold… for now.

  No one says anything as Cesare swaggers over to where Ernesto and Massimo are standing. Massimo looks as unhappy about his cousin's appearance as Ernesto. Interesting, that.

  "What's the meeting about?" Cesare asks.

  "He's here to talk to me, cousin. It's personal."

  Cesare continues to stare at Ernesto and Ernesto meets his gaze, never wavering.

  "Nah," Cesare says, "there's nothing too personal family can't share. Isn't that right, cousin?"

  Massimo looks to Ernesto, who nods slightly, and on the inside we brace ourselves—outside there's no hint of anticipation or anxiety.

  "So why are you here, Ernesto?" Cesare smirks.

  Ernesto shifts his weight and we all settle in. Next signal is go time.

  "I'm here to meet with Massimo. My business is not with you."

  Cesare nods. "So it is business."
<
br />   "Why else would I be here?" Ernesto asks.

  "I was wondering that very thing," Cesare mutters.

  "Cesare, leave us. This has been discussed with Salvatore. You'll be filled in at the meeting later tonight," Massimo tells him, but Cesare remains still, gaze still locked on to Ernesto's.

  "I think I'd rather stay."

  "And I just told you to leave. You will do as you're told, Cesare, or you'll suffer the consequences," Massimo tells his cousin through clenched teeth.

  Cesare grunts. "Calm down, cousin. I'll go. I can't really stand the stench of the Russos anyway. They always smell like… what is that smell?" he asks one of the Manzini men, who makes no move to answer.

  "It's the smell of bullshit and it wafted over me when you entered into the room. So I'm afraid, Cesare, that smell is you," Ernesto tells him, straightening, and it's go time.

  We all shift our weight and stand at the ready, Cesare lets out a mirthless laugh.

  "Ah, Ernesto, you always were a prick."

  Ernesto nods. "Run along, Cesare, or you'll get a spanking later."

  Cesare reaches for his gun and before he gets it out of his waistband, Ernesto has his gun pressed to Cesare's temple. Cesare remains frozen, hand close, but oh, so far away from his weapon.

  His eyes bounce around the room and he notices that not only does he have Russo guns aimed at him, but also Manzini.

  "Looks to me, cousin," Massimo begins, "you're going to get more than a spanking. Vinny, if you could please relieve Cesare of his weapon."

  The other man steps forward slowly and carefully, so as not to set anyone off, and takes the gun from Cesare's waistband, then tucks it into his own.

  "You're making a big mistake here, Massimo," Cesare begins.

  "I don't think so," Massimo replies. "Vinny and Angelo are going to escort you to see the boss."

  "Cousin—" Cesare begins.

  Massimo smirks. "Too little too late. Now you'll face the consequences of disregarding the request I gave you. Salvatore hates insubordination."

  No one relaxes. All guns are still trained on Cesare as he stares down his cousin this time, hatred evident in his expression.

  "Your time has come," Cesare tells him and Massimo raises a brow.

  "I think you're reading the situation wrong. It is your time that has come. And," Massimo tells him, taking a step forward, "don't you ever threaten me again or I'll put a bullet through your brain before you even blink."

  Cesare clenches his fists in anger, frustration, and hate. The hate radiating off of him is palpable, and I can't help but wonder just what the hell is going on with the Manzinis, and does Salvatore Manzini know about it. Likely if he did, Cesare would already be dead.

  "Let's go," Vinny tells him and they turn, heading toward the door. When the door closes behind them, everyone lowers their weapons at Massimo's and Ernesto's commands—but they aren't put away.

  The tension in this room is so thick you could cut it with a knife. I feel a bead of sweat roll down my back and hope like hell we can get the fuck out of here before it starts popping out on my forehead. Show no sign of weakness. That's what Ernesto and Giovanni taught me, and it's a lesson I learned quickly and very, very well. There's no room for trial and error out on the street, where your life depends on your reaction and quick thinking, which also means there is no room for anxiety, panic, or any of the telltale signs signaling either.

  "I apologize for Cesare," Massimo tells Ernesto, who nods. "He's out of control and tonight is the meeting where Salvatore will determine his fate."

  "Seems like a good decision. He's making mistakes, Massimo. Mistakes that are going to have our families back at war. None of us want that," Ernesto admits.

  "No, we do not."

  A door slams and all weapons raise and train on the two men who enter. Giovanni and Salvatore. The hair on the back of my neck stands up. I can't believe what I'm seeing. Sworn enemies. Holy shit.

  "Lower your weapons, Russos," Gio orders.

  "You as well Manzinis," Salvatore agrees.

  All weapons lower.

  "Cesare has been dealt with," Mr. Manzini announces.

  "Fuck. I was hoping I'd get to handle that," Massimo says.

  Ernesto smirks. "I'd have fought you to carry out that task."

  "Get in line," another of the Manzinis says.

  "Men," Salvatore commands, and everyone quiets down. "You will deliver and unload the weapons Cesare took from the Russos, without direction or permission, at Giovanni Russo's choice of location."

  They all nod in agreement.

  "Ernesto," Giovanni states, "I need you and Nickels to come with me."

  Ernesto directs me over with a tilt of his head and we follow Giovanni out the door. I don't tuck the gun away and neither does Ernesto. Now we're not only responsible for our lives, we're also responsible for our boss's. Christ on a crutch.

  When I enter the limo, I'm not really all that surprised by the scene before me. Cesare Manzini, being held at gunpoint by one of our men. Ernesto smirks and rubs his hands together.

  "Here's your present," Giovanni tells Ernesto.

  "Best present ever," he replies.

  "I would love to kill you," Cesare seethes.

  Ernesto snorts.

  "You'll never get that chance," Giovanni tells him coldly.

  "I should have killed you when I had the chance," Cesare tells Giovanni, and I lift my gun and point it at his temple.

  "You might want to rethink how you speak to Mr. Russo," I tell him. "You will show some respect."

  Ernesto smirks again.

  "Who the fuck are you, boy?" Cesare asks.

  "The boy who's going to kill you," I respond flatly.

  Ernesto leans back in his seat. "He's no boy, I can assure you that."

  Cesare looks me up and down, just his eyes roaming over my body while my weapon continues to press into his temple.

  "Ah, we are here," Giovanni announces. I lower my gun, but my gaze doesn't waver from Cesare. Something's wrong. I feel it. I can't pinpoint it, I just know it in my gut.

  We make our way into the empty warehouse.

  "Are you ready to die?" Ernesto taunts.

  Cesare sneezes, then whispers, "Are you?" He bends over and in a flash he pulls a small gun from an ankle holster. I don't hesitate. I pull the trigger before he gets a chance. I watch as blood and brain matter spray across the concrete floor and then, as if in slow motion, Cesare's lifeless body crumples to the floor.

  "Holy fuck, Nickels," Ernesto exclaims.

  I stand there, arm in the air, finger on the trigger and I wait for remorse to set in. It doesn't. Why should it? The asshole was going to kill Giovanni. That just can't happen. I made sure it didn't.

  "Fast reflexes, Cage," Giovanni tells me.

  "I knew something was wrong."

  He nods. "Always trust your instincts."

  Ernesto looks at Giovanni with a smirk. "I told you."

  Giovanni nods again. "So you did."

  I have no clue what they're talking about and, as I watch them pick Cesare Manzini's lifeless body off the floor, I really wish I did.

  "You'll train him and we'll groom him," Giovanni tells Ernesto.

  "For what?" I ask.

  "Second in command," Ernesto replies.

  "What? No. That's your position."

  He shakes his head. "I don't want it. I knew you were the one for the position as I watched you come up in the ranks. Dedication and loyalty are rewarded."

  Are they fucking with me? I'm not even blood related. Is this possible? Do I want this?

  Giovanni is watching me closely. "I know what you're thinking. You, of all people, should remember, Cage, sometimes family isn't always blood. Sometimes family is where you find it."

  I nod, thinking of Joan.

  "Do you want this?" Ernesto asks.

  Do I? Holy fuck, what they're asking me is insane. They're asking me to be Giovanni Russo's right hand. They're asking me to be second i
n command to the Russo organization—to la Famiglia, to replace Giovanni's brother, Lorenzo, who died last year at the hands of the Manzinis.

  Do I want the responsibility? Do I want the power that comes with that position? Do I want this, really want this?

  "Yes," I answer, and both Ernesto and Giovanni nod.

  "Then we begin immediately," Giovanni tells me.

  I expected nothing less.

  Chapter Four

  Cage

  Past

  I anticipated this but not so quickly.

  I look on as Gio stands in front of the Russo Famiglia and I work to remain straight-faced and expressionless as he announces that I, at the age of twenty-three, am to become his second. I know what the responsibility of this means. I also know it's for life. This is my family.

  There are no expressions of shock or outrage. Just accepting nods and murmured congratulations.

  Ernesto claps his hand on my shoulder. "Let's go have a drink, Nickels."

  I nod as we head toward the bar in Ernesto's (yeah, Ernesto owns the club that houses our Famiglia meetings and celebrations).

  Carlo pours me a scotch, neat; then sets a beer and a shot of whiskey in front of Ernesto.

  Ernesto lifts his shot glass. "Congratulations, Nickels."

  "Yeah, thanks," I murmur, still adjusting to the fact I'm now his boss rather than the other way around. "You realize I still think of you as my boss."

  Ernesto smiles. "And that's as it should be. Just because I didn't take the chair doesn't mean I'm not right up alongside you, helping you carry out what needs to be done as second."

  I nod. "Same as it's always been."

  He nods. "Same as it'll always be, unless you say otherwise."

  "Not going to happen. This is yours. It was intended for you and you deserve to be part of it," I tell him straight up.

  "I appreciate that," he replies.

  "If you two are done hugging and talking about your periods," Giovanni says, walking up, "let's share a couple drinks and celebrate how Cage has already helped and continues to solidify and strengthen la Famiglia."