Mr. Corporate (Mister #3) (36 page)

He knows I hate that name.

I look to find Lucio Gori standing near the back, holding open a red velvet curtain that leads to his private work area.

“Victoria,” I say, with as much defiance as I can muster. “My name is Victoria.”

“Sure,” he muses, like I’m nothing but a joke. “You will always be Violeta to me. But come in the back, Victoria. I can adapt to a new name. Let’s catch up, eh? It’s been a long time.”

I lift my head and walk slowly towards the back, eyeing all the men in this small bar. Thinking about all the ways they can hurt me. How quick they will be to grab me with one word from their boss.

“They know better, my sweet. Don’t even look at them. They are not worth your attention. Besides, I have someone you know back here. And he is very eager to see you again. I hear you’ve had some trouble this past week?”

My heart sinks, thinking of who he has in that back room. It can’t be West. It can’t be him. There is no way he got here before me.

“Hurry now,” Lucio says. “He’s uncomfortable.”

Jesus Christ. Why did I come here?

“I knew you’d come back of your own free will, Violeta,” Lucio says once I’m within arm’s reach. He brushes the back of his hand down my cheek as I stand in front of the half-drawn curtain, hesitating. “Oh, now is not the time to be afraid, Violeta. There is plenty of time for that.”

I swallow hard and look him in the eyes. Those dark eyes. Almost black, just like his soul. “I’m not afraid,” I say. “I’m not afraid of you, Lucio.”

“You should be.” And then he draws the curtain all the back so I can see who is waiting for me in the back room.

My father is tied to a chair, his face so bloody, I barely recognize him. “Pops!” I rush over to him, my hand on his shoulder, shaking him. He doesn’t move. “Pops,” I say again, softer this time. “Please. Answer me.” But he doesn’t. He is out cold, maybe even dead. I can’t tell. I whirl around to face Lucio. “What did you do?”

Everything I came here to do flies out the window. There will be no confession, I understand that now. Weston was right. Lucio knows how to hunt. But West doesn’t have to worry, I’m not the bait. My father is.

“He came to me,
Tori
.” Lucio snarls the nickname West uses like it’s a filthy word. “He came to me asking where you were. Threatened me, Victoria. And I admit, I had my doubts when I waited so patiently these past few days and you never came looking for him. I started imagining all the ways your little revenge scheme might play out. I even sent people to track you down, but you disappeared in Miami. With
him
.”

I don’t need to guess who he’s talking about. “That was you on that island, wasn’t it? You were the one who came and tried to kill us.”

Lucio laughs loud and long. “Island? No, my sweet Violeta. That was not me. But I would have,” he says, turning his head so he can give me a sidelong glare. “I would’ve come to kill Mr. Corporate if I had known where the two of you were. Instead I took it out on your dear Pops. He took it well, I have to admit. Like the tough guy he used to be. But, well, everyone has a time and a place. He won’t be able to walk out of here, I’m afraid. His knees are broken. But if you give me what I want, I’ll let him live.”

And then, just to illustrate his point, Lucio pulls a knife from his boot and cuts my father free from the chair. He slumps forward, teeters to the side, and just… slides… down, down, down until he is bent in some unnatural position on the floor.

I have to swallow down the bile that rises in my throat. Lucio Gori
tortured
my father. Killed him. The only man who ever took care of me. The only man I ever
let
take care of me.

“I was going to bargain with you, you know. At first. I figured I’d rough him up a bit and summon you. And when you came I’d bargain for his life. You for him. I’d keep you, the way it was always meant to be. And he’d walk away. But…” Lucio laughs and
tsks
his tongue loudly. “We’re way past that now. You kept me waiting.”

“I never got a summons,” I say, my voice weak with terror. Terror I haven’t experienced in ten years.

“How could you?” he growls. “You were out of town. Fucking that Mr. Corporate. Well, he’s not going to be around much longer either, Violeta. You will end up with me in the end. Ruined and broken just the way I like you. But it’s too bad so many people will die because of your poor choices.”

I take a deep, deep breath and try to gather myself. He’s playing with me. My father starts gasping for air—he’s still alive!—when Lucio kicks him in the chest and makes him groan. It’s the half-hearted groan of an unconscious man.

“Let’s go on a date, Violeta. Huh? Just you and me?”

I double over trying to stop the sick from spewing out of my mouth.

Lucio is there, taking my hand, placing another one on my back as he says in a soft voice, “Come on now, you always liked our dates, remember? Remember how I forced my cock in your mouth? How I took your breath away?” He laughs so loud, it makes me jump.

He fists my hair and yanks my head back so hard, I hear a snap in the muscles that run along my shoulder. The pain shoots up into my head, right behind my eye. And even though I know I shouldn’t, I react. Years of training and practice have instilled instincts in me.

My hand reaches around his leg, right behind his ankle, and I squeeze. It’s not as effective as it could be if he didn’t have boots on. But it takes him by surprise, stuns him, just for a moment, and he is off balance. I grab his foot and yank it, making him fall. I fall on top of him, and then he’s yelling. The sound of thumping boots echoes in my head and I know I have only one chance to make it out of here alive right now.

I grab for the gun I know he keeps in the back of his pants and take it out, frantically searching for the safety—finding none—and pulling the trigger before I even think twice.

It’s an automatic, so three shots go off before I even realize what’s happening. People are shouting, Lucio is struggling, trying to wrench the gun from my hands. Plaster is falling from the ceiling from the wild gunshots.

“You bitch,” Lucio says, bringing his fist down on the back of my head. I see stars and things begin to go black, but I shake my head, the shooting pain behind my eyes even more acute. More piercing. He is trying to get the gun from my grip, but I know—I know—if he gets this gun, I am never leaving this bar. My father, regardless of how bad he’s hurt, will never recover.

I will lose. Lucio will kill me, or torture me, or take me as his little sex slave again.

“No,” I yell, just as more shooting comes from the other side of the curtain.

“Oh, yes,” Lucio purrs in my ear. He’s almost overpowered me, and every stupid little jujitsu move I’ve ever learned flies right out of my head. I am weak. I am not safe. I am nothing but Lucio Gori’s prize.

I elbow him in the kidney, making him back away, just enough for me to keep the gun from his hand, and I have no choice, I drop it, kick it away so he can’t get to it.

There is even more shooting out in the front of the bar now. Bullets come blasting through the thin walls of the back room. A bullet hits the chandelier and it comes crashing down, not more than a few feet from where Lucio and I still struggle.

People are screaming—no, I am screaming—but more people too. Women, those women who were having lunch. Men, the ones playing pool, maybe even the bartender. Everyone is screaming.

And then I hear a voice.

Oh, God, no!

“Victoria!” West calls. “Can you hear me?”

“I’ve got her,” Lucio says. And he does. Our brief struggle ends when he throws me face down on the hard concrete floor and steps on my neck.

And then everything happens at once. West appears, throwing the curtain aside. Lucio has another gun, not the one I kicked away, and he shoots. West disappears again. Lucio presses on the tender vertebrae between my shoulders and I know, just a little more pressure and my neck will snap. I will die like this. I will die his victim.

No!

I twist my body when Lucio pulls the trigger and break free. I grab his ankle again, and use all the remaining strength I have to pull…

Lucio goes down, West is there, Mysterious and Match are there. Everyone has a gun but me.

Everyone is going to get their chance to kill this asshole
but me
.

I roll away, kicking Lucio in the face, making his lip bleed, making his nose gush hot, sticky, scarlet.

And I reach for the gun I threw away, my fingers feeling for it. Praying for it. Don’t let them have this moment. Don’t let anyone take this away from me. I want to kill Lucio Gori myself. I want a taste of that rage he has always felt. I want to harness all the hate I have and be the last thing he sees when I take his life.

I find the cold, hard steel of the gun and then…

And then…

I feel warm fingers grasping my hand. I turn to look and find my father, lying on the dirty floor, covered in caked blood and bruised almost beyond recognition. He has managed to crawl over to us and there’s a sick trail of crimson behind him.

He says, eyes closed shut from all the swelling and his voice low and weak, “Let me. It’s the only thing I want. Just… let… me…”

In the moment I take to pause and feel sadness, and loss, and regret, and all the other things that come to mind when your father is about to die…

He squeezes my hand. The hand that is holding the gun. And pulls the trigger.

I watch helplessly as Lucio Gori’s head explodes.

Chapter Forty-Eight - Weston

Perfect, Romantic, me, Mysterious, and Match all in the same room with Five.

It’s not a good feeling.

Not at all.

The last time this happened we were being charged with rape.

After Pops killed Lucio, the whole place just went crazy. We got the fuck out of there. It’s mob territory and no cops coming, were coming to help. Mysterious led us through the back door. I picked Tori up and threw her over my shoulder. She was screaming. Calling her father’s name. But Match picked him up, all broken and bloody, and took him with us to the helicopter waiting on a roof a few blocks away.

Dozens of people saw us.

No one tried to stop us.

“At least we know more than we did,” Perfect says. Then he shrugs, because really, we don’t. Add in the fact that we don’t know what Allen was doing when he started fucking with Perfect’s girlfriend, or whether or not Romantic’s psycho sibling was in on anything back then, not to mention I’ve still got a secret or two I’m not ready to talk about and… yeah.

Nothing is settled at all.

We might even be worse off than we were.

“How’s Tori?” Mysterious asks. He’s been weird since that night. He’s beating himself up because he didn’t get us there just a few minutes earlier. Just a few minutes earlier and we’d have left Tori out of everything and taken care of business. But he’s getting better now. Calming down. I’ve come to the conclusion I prefer calm, asshole Paxton Vance than agitated, manic Paxton Vance. He’s got one of those mint juleps in his hand. He’s sucked down like six of them since we got here.

“Good, I think. Relieved. Sad about her father. But I for one am glad he’s the one who pulled the trigger and not her.” He died in a Colorado hospital about two days after that whole thing went down. Five arranged the hospital.

Fucking Five.

And no one came looking for us about Lucio Gori Junior.

Fucking Five again, I think.

Tori was a mess. But I’m just grateful—blessed, happy, pleased, thankful… whatever you want to call it—that it was him and not her. I am all of those things. It’s horrible to think that way, but I don’t care. “Or any of
us
,” I add, looking around the room.

Romantic nods and takes a deep breath.

“So?” Match says. “What’s next?”

“Me?” Mysterious says, making himself a new drink. “I guess. I’m the next target, right? They had my evidence in Nolan’s house. No one saw it but me and Romantic, but how long do you think we have to wait until we figure out for sure that Lucio Gori was not the one who really set us up? I mean, will we have to live with this hanging over us for the rest of our lives?”