Endings & Beginnings (New Mafia Trilogy #3) (21 page)

Natalie

Grant hissed when he lifted himself up out of the
car, refusing assistance. He had been discharged three days after regaining
consciousness in the hospital in New Jersey and didn’t need to be transferred. Miranda,
Dante, Dominic, my mom and I all hovered nearby in case he experienced a sudden
bout of weakness, but Grant only let that one sound escape. Had he not hissed
and winced briefly, we all would have thought he wasn’t feeling any kind of
discomfort. Typical guy, I thought to myself, trying to be all macho.

We followed him into the house, which smelled like a
flower shop from all of the bouquets. A bunch of balloons had been tied to the
bannister. They all bore messages like “Get Well!” and “Welcome Home!” I took a
step back to let Miranda and my mom fuss over Grant as he got settled on the
sofa. As soon as he was seated, he leaned his head back with his eyes closed
and let out a deep breath. Close to two weeks-worth of facial hair blanketed
his jawline and dark half-moons had taken up residence underneath his eyes even
though he probably slept more in the past few days than he had in years. His
injuries and the healing took a lot out of him. He yawned and opened his eyes,
immediately searching for Miranda. She was standing next to the sofa and he
smiled up at her.

   “Come here, wife,” he said, patting the space
next to him. She complied and curled up alongside him, resting her head on his
shoulder. He kissed the top of her head before leaning back and closing his
eyes again. “It’s good to be home,” he murmured. He swallowed and his Adam’s
apple bobbed. It was more pronounced since he’d lost weight – at least ten
pounds.

   “Yes it is. Let’s not test any other vows for a
while, huh?”

They seemed to have forgotten they weren’t alone and
my throat tightened at their obvious love for each other. My mom laughed at
Miranda’s comment.

   “Grant, do you need anything?” she asked.

   “I have everything I need, right here.” He pulled
Miranda closer.

   “Alright, you two, then I’ll get out of your hair.”
She turned to face us. “You guys too. Let’s give them some time to settle in.”
She ushered us out the door, but not before I caught her smiling wistfully at
Grant and Miranda snuggling on the sofa.

   “He’s really going to be okay, isn’t he?” she asked,
surprising me by reaching for my hand and giving it a squeeze.

   “Yes, Mom, he’s going to be better than okay.”

   “I hate to leave tomorrow.”

   “Don’t worry, I’ll be here to take care of him
and something tells me he’s going to be a pain in the ass patient.”

She chuckled at this, but her eyes misted when she
looked over at Grant again. “What about you, Natalie? Who’s going to take care
of you?”

   “I can take care of myself. Now come on let’s
give the newlyweds some space. We left their townhouse and I made sure the
front door locked behind us.

***

The drive back from Grant’s follow up appointment
with his surgeon was an uncomfortable one for many reasons. Not only was Grant
tired, I could tell by the way he yawned every five minutes, but he also wasn’t
allowed to drive since he was still on pain meds. Instead of taking a nap on
the drive back to Philly from Jersey, Grant felt the need to criticize my
driving. When I turned a corner and bumped the curb, you would have thought I
killed someone based on his reaction.

   “Watch what you’re doing!” he snapped.

   “I had no choice, Grant, that asshole in the
truck was crowding me.”

We had just exited the bridge and were hopping onto
95 South when he barked at me again for not merging with the traffic fast
enough. I almost pulled over to physically remove him from the car.

Gripping the steering wheel tight, I managed to keep
my mouth shut. I knew Grant was tired of being fussed over and from being
basically benched from all duties. Having his little sister drive him around
didn’t sit well with him either. As each day towards his recovery passed,
Grumpy Grant became grumpier.

When Miranda sent a text that she was held up doing
payroll at Crimson, Grant scowled and angrily dropped his phone in a cup holder.
Add sexual frustration to the list. Miranda confided in me, not that this was
information I wanted to know about my brother, but she refused to have sex with
him until the doctored cleared him. Apparently Grant had received the go ahead
at this appointment and couldn’t wait to get home. I had planned to vacate the
house as soon as I dropped him off to give them some alone time.

   “She doesn’t even need to work anymore,” he
grumbled.

   “Yeah, but she likes it. Miranda isn’t one to sit
idle, you know this.”

   “I know, but with the baby and me…” he trailed
off as I turned the corner onto Bainbridge Street and fortunately I didn’t
graze the curb that time.

   “Payroll is something she needs to handle. She’ll
be home soon and you can get your freak on. Trust me I will not be around to
hear any of that.” I scrunched up my face at the idea and Grant chuckled.

With minimal criticism from my brother, I parallel
parked and once inside the house, he went upstairs to shower. I could tell by
the pallor of his skin that the pain meds were wearing off, but he refused to
take another dose. I didn’t blame him though because I remembered switching to
ibuprofen a few days after I was shot as the oxycodone was too strong and
dulled my focus.

It was a humid, early June afternoon and my hair
stuck to the back of my neck, so after pulling it up in a messy bun, I switched
laundry over. As I was getting ready to grab another load, my phone buzzed in
my back pocket.

   “Hey Dom,” I answered, setting the laundry basket
down on the floor.

   “Are you and Grant at the house yet?”

   “Yeah we just got back. Why, what’s up?”

   “Okay, I’m coming by. Someone’s visiting and
wants to see you and Grant. We’ll be over soon.”

There was a voice in the background that sounded
familiar, but it could have been anyone. We said goodbye and I continued on
with the laundry.

I was in the kitchen getting a glass of ice water
when Grant wandered in. He was just wearing mesh basketball shorts and I
couldn’t help but look at his scars. The skin around each bullet hole was still
an angry dark pink. When Grant lifted his arm to get a glass out of the
cabinet, I saw the straight scar on the side of his rib cage from where a tube
had been inserted to drain fluid from his lung. “You might want to throw on a
shirt. We have visitors coming over,” I said.

   “Who?”

   “I don’t know. Dom wouldn’t say, but they’ll be
here soon.”

Grant drained his glass of water after swallowing a
couple of ibuprofen then disappeared back upstairs. He returned moments later
wearing jeans and an old Crimson staff t-shirt. He yawned and looked at the
clock on the microwave.

   “Here,” I said, handing him a Monster Java from
the refrigerator just as the doorbell rang. I turned to leave the kitchen, but
he beat me to it and I followed him down the hallway to the front door.

Dom entered first, followed by Dante. They gave
Grant bro hugs before stepping out of the way and I squealed when I saw who
came in behind them.

   “Drago?” I flung myself at that tall, tattooed
man and he caught me up in a hug.

   “How ya doing, Princess?” he said, setting me
back down.

   “Jimmy!”

   “Hey!” He gave me a more conservative hug, but
was smiling when I stepped away.

Victor Drago and Jimmy Pincatelli were two of the
top enforcers for the L.A. mob and after it was discovered Dom’s Uncle Marco
had a hit out on me, a deal was struck with Gio, the boss in L.A. and Victor
was appointed my bodyguard of sorts. Since he was in my space all of the time,
we eventually became friends. When Victor was shot and showed up on my doorstep
bleeding, our friendship deepened. Jimmy, the strong, scarred and silent type
even warmed up to me during that time.

   “What are you guys doing here?” I asked.

Victor looked over my shoulder at Dominic with a
questioning expression. “We have business to discuss,” Dom answered.

   “I don’t want to know so I’ll make myself
scarce.”

   “Nat, can you grab us some grub?” Victor asked.
“Me and Jimmy are starving.”

   “Sure, I’ll be back in a bit.”

   “Thanks babe,” Dom said placing an arm around my
waist and turning me enough to kiss my cheek. Victor smirked and he raised an
eyebrow at the interaction.

   “Uh, yeah um, okay,” I stammered, quickly
escaping to grab my bag. It wasn’t unusual for Dom to touch me like that, but
it still made my pulse race, mouth go dry and other parts grow wet. We weren’t
friends with benefits, but the lines of friendship weren’t clearly drawn
either. Having Victor around reminded me that I wasn’t being honest with Dom or
myself. One of the last pieces of advice he gave me before I left L.A. was to
ask myself if I was leading Dom on. Victor and Jimmy both said that guys didn’t
want to be friends with their ex-girlfriends. I knew if Victor got me alone,
he’d call me out on it…again.

As I was closing the front door behind me, Miranda
walked up. Her hair was styled in large, glossy barrel curls that framed her
heart shaped face. Sunglasses were strategically placed on top of her head as
to not disturb the curls. I noticed that since Grant was hospitalized, Miranda
had stopped wearing her signature red lipstick and bold eyeliner that always
reminded me of a 1940’s pin up model. Today her face was free of any make up
and she could have passed as a high school student.

   “Hey, I’m grabbing some food for your ‘business
meeting’, do you want anything?”

   “What are you getting?”

   “I figured the L.A. boys need classic hoagies –
you know, some Philly flavor.”

   “Yes! I need to watch the deli meat because of
listeria, but get me a tuna diablo with extra pepperoncini on the side.”
Miranda rubbed her ever expanding baby bump. “Bambino likes things spicy.”

I laughed and said goodbye. Enjoying the heat of the
late afternoon sun as it hit my face I walked the short block to South Street.
Even though it was a Wednesday, it was early June and a nice day so tourists
were out in full force. As I waited in line to place my order for six hoagies,
I texted my friends from college who had stayed in the city to see what they
were up to as I didn’t know how long the meeting was going to last and I knew
Grant and Miranda needed some alone time.

With plans set to meet up for drinks at a new trendy
place located near Rittenhouse Square, I returned to Grant and Miranda’s laden
down with food.

            “I’m meeting up with Jillian, Danny and
Danny’s new boyfriend for drinks so I’ll be gone for several hours,” I said to
Grant with a wink. He grinned before taking a monstrous bite out of his hoagie
that sent oil and vinegar spilling out onto the waxed paper.

I left them to their meeting and quickly got ready.
As the cab made its way through traffic, excitement grew. I was looking forward
to a night out with my friends as most of my time back in Philly had been spent
taking care of Grant. Even seeing one of Dom’s soldiers walk in shortly after
me to sit down at the opposite end of the bar didn’t bother me. It was kind of
sweet how Dom wanted to protect me. He didn’t know about the gun in my bag and
that I was perfectly capable of protecting myself.

DOMINIC

After Natalie left, we finished eating and a few
minutes later my dad, Uncle Al and Joey D. arrived. That’s when we got down to
business. Miranda made sure her curtains were closed before Victor placed a
plain black duffle bag on the coffee table and unzipped it, revealing golden
brown bricks of heroin stacked inside.

   “Twenty keys, just like you ordered,” Victor
said. “Want to sample?”

I nodded at Dante and he leaned forward to cut a
tiny slit in one of the plastic bags. Dipping his finger into the dense powder,
Dante snorted a small amount then leaned back, closing his eyes. I could see
his jaw flex as the little bit hit bloodstream.

   “Yeah, it’s good shit,” he said after a few
seconds.

Grant left the room and returned moments later with
a bag of cash containing over fifty grand. While we were paying $2,600.00 per
kilo, the mark up on the street would net us over 2.5 million dollars and this
was just a one month shipment.

Dante verified the amount while Dante confirmed the
number of kilos. Once the transaction was complete, Grant grabbed the duffle
bag and left the room again. I knew he was putting the heroin in the safe that
was installed in the back wall of their pantry. He came back a few minutes
later and tossed the empty bag to Jimmy who placed the cash inside.

We all stood up and shook hands. “Gotta say, I was
surprised Gio sent you and Jimmy,” I said.

   “Yeah, the boss wanted to make sure everything is
copasetic on your end considering recent events. Plus, this is the first
shipment from our new supplier, G wanted to make sure nothing shady happened
mid-transport.”

   “That makes sense. We’re all good here, man.
Grant’s healing fast and almost back to 100%. The Feds are dogging us, but our
LEOs we have on payroll are helping us out.”

   “Good, I’ll let the boss know. And Natalie, how’s
she doing with all of this?”

I hesitated before answering and crossed my arms,
standing a little straighter. Natalie practically threw herself into Victor’s
arms when he arrived and I tried not to read too much into it, but his question
just shifted the conversation from business to personal.

Victor must have sensed the tension as he held his
hands up and laughed. “Hey man, Nat and I are just friends. I thought she’d be
a pain in the ass to watch over for you, but she’s cool and she really helped
me out when I was in a bad way.”

   “What are you talking about? Was she hurt?”

He shook his head, looking between me and Grant.
“Shit, she didn’t tell you, I take it?”

   “Tell us what?” Grant interjected.

Victor sat back down on the sofa and gestured with a
tattoo covered arm for us to do the same. Joey D. and Jimmy stood guard on
opposite ends of the archway that led to the hallway, a habit of conditioned
sentries.

   “I was shot while out on a job and Natalie’s
apartment was the closest. I was bleeding pretty bad and couldn’t go to the hospital.”

I nodded in understanding since showing up at a
hospital with a gunshot wound led to police. “Anyway, I was kinda out of it,
but apparently coherent enough to have Nat call Gio. She somehow managed to
drag me into her apartment and called him for help. From what G told me, she
helped the doc attend to my injury. I then had to crash out at her place for a
couple of days.”

   “Holy shit, she never said anything to me. Not
you either, Grant?” I asked.

   “Nope. Jesus Christ, why didn’t she say anything?”

   “Oh there’s more. That Jason guy showed up while
Natalie was cleaning up blood and he freaked. Gio wanted him silenced, but Nat
assured him she’d take care of it. They broke up a few weeks later and he
hasn’t said shit, so whatever she did must have been enough to keep him quiet.”

   “Shit.” I knew Natalie had been keeping something
from me. I sat with my elbows on my knees, my hands supporting my chin as I
thought about what had gone down. Sitting up straight, I took a deep breath and
ran a hand through my hair. Ordinarily Jason would be considered a liability
and taken out to keep quiet. Natalie would know this and had taken on a huge
risk assuring Gio of Jason’s cooperation. “So Jason hasn’t said anything and
they’re definitely not together anymore?”

   “Oh they’re done, bro. He even quit bartending at
Dirty. ”

   “I’m surprised he’s still alive,” Dante said.

   “Gio likes Natalie too and he owed her for taking
care of me, but don’t worry, we got eyes on him and if surfer boy slips up,
he’s fucking toast.”

   “Well, let’s hope for Natalie’s sake he keeps his
mouth shut,” Grant said.

    “I’ll keep you guys informed if anything changes
when Natalie gets back. How long is she planning on staying out here?”

I looked over at Grant and Miranda. Since Natalie
had been staying with them, they would know more.

   “She hasn’t said, but I’m almost healed and we
don’t really need her help here anymore.”

Eventually Natalie was going to have to make a
decision. She knew I wanted her to stay, but I wasn’t going to pressure her
into staying. She had already been given an ultimatum once by Uncle Marco and I
refused to apply the same tactic.