Reign (The Syndicate: Crime and Passion Book 2) (14 page)

S
ergei

“
S
o it’s true
?” Maxim said.

Vincent and I had parked in front of the house, but Maxim met us outside.

“Yes,” I said.

He looked at me, didn’t give Vincent any attention but said, “Your guest?”

“Meet Vincent, my new second-in-command,” I said.

Vincent look slightly surprised but recovered quickly.

“You trust him?” Maxim said, finally letting his gaze stray over to Vincent who stood unusually silent.

“Not yet, but maybe after tonight. Do I have your approval?” I asked.

“To kill Santo and whoever else you need to?” he said.

I nodded, then looked at Vincent to see if he would react. He hadn’t, though I thought I might have seen a little glimmer of happiness in his eyes.

“Yes. I know you wanted to do the honors, but I need to handle this personally, Maxim,” I said.

“I did want to do the honors. Promised myself I would. I also promised Senna, and I’ll keep my word to her. You have my approval,” he said.

“Any requests?” I asked.

“I want to be there,” he said.

I nodded.

“Do you know where he is?” Maxim asked.

I shook my head. “He didn’t go back to where he’s been staying. Adrian has people out looking, so it won’t be long.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Vincent said, finally speaking.

“You know where Santo is?” I said.

He shook his head. “But Michael does.”

“Take me to him,” I said.

Vincent nodded and we went back to the SUV.

“You know where I’ll be,” Maxim said as we drove off.

S
ergei

“
H
e went back
to his house!” I said, incredulous, my anger coursing through me harder now.

“Yes. Shooting her was nothing to him,” Vincent replied. His own voice was tight, and I wondered why, so I decided to ask.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked.

“Doing what?” Vincent said.

“Helping me,” I said.

“You gave me a promotion, which is more than that fucker ever did,” Vincent said.

I smiled grimly, as much of the expression as I could muster now. “Good story, but I don’t buy it,” I said.

Vincent turned to look at me. “I came up with Santo, Michael. They taught me a lot, like how not to run an organization. How not to treat people. Getting rid of them is my version of community service,” he said.

I nodded, satisfied. “When we go in, don’t tell him that we know,” I said.

The warning was for myself as much as it was for Vincent, because I wasn’t sure if I could keep my emotions under wraps.

“You don’t think he knows you know?” Vincent said.

“None of my men would tell him a thing, and if you haven’t, there’s no way he’ll know. He probably thinks she’s dead or that we haven’t found her yet.”

I couldn’t believe I was here, discussing this so calmly, so rationally, but it was the only option. Staying calm now would get me to the place I needed to be, and once there, I would let loose.

We got out, and walked up the driveway of the small house.

I looked around swiftly, expecting anything, and Vincent did the same, eyes sharp, focused. I banged on the door. “Open up!” I said.

I banged once more and listened as footsteps approached. A moment later the door unlocked and opened and Michael stood, his 9mm next to his face. He looked at me, then Vincent, then relaxed ever so slightly.

“Come in,” he said.

He stepped aside and Vincent entered, and I followed and then closed the door behind me.

“You don’t look surprised to see me,” I said.

He shrugged. “I figured it was just a matter of time.”

He was up to something. I could see it, but I bit back the urge to respond and instead played along.

“And why is that?” I said.

He put the nine on the table and I noticed that he wasn’t wearing a jacket, which was unusual for him. I wanted to stare at him, see if there was any trace of her blood, but I didn’t let my gaze linger. Because if I saw her blood, I would lose it.

“It was bound to happen, right? After all that shit with Davey, I knew Santo would fuck up soon,” he said.

“And you’re ready to help me get rid of him once and for all?” I asked.

It was taking everything inside of me to stay calm, be reasonable, but this was the most direct way of getting what I wanted, so I would stay on track.

“Yes. His time has passed,” Michael said. “I’ll show you where he is.”

He donned his jacket and buttoned his shirt neatly, something I found idiotic, especially given what we were going to do. In other circumstances I would’ve said something, but since Michael was dressing himself for his own funeral, I decided to let it slide.

I went to the SUV and got into the backseat, Vincent and Michael in the front.

“He’s not going to come easily,” Michael said after he’d directed us to Santo’s location, looking at me through the rearview mirror.

I locked my eyes on his, watching for any indication that he had knowledge of what he had done, that he knew that I knew.

There was nothing, only the flatness, calculation. He didn’t even care he had shot her—it didn’t bother him at all.

Those thoughts raced through my head but instead of responding to them, I said, “His choice.”

I got out then, and followed Michael and Vincent as they went to yet another small house.

“He likes to hide out here.”

“Is he expecting us?” I asked.

“Probably,” Michael said.

“Good.”

And it was. The thought of Santo sitting, waiting, either afraid because he knew I was coming or too stupid to realize his time was almost up was exciting. Either way, I’d relish his surprise.

“Stop.” I turned at the sound of the male voice, recognized it was Santo who materialized from the shadows.

He looked calm, calmer than I’d anticipated.

“You come for me?” he said.

“Yes,” I replied.

“Maxim send you?” he asked.

“No,” I replied. “But he knows I’m here.”

I watched him, my blood rushing so hard through my head that I could barely hear. My patience was thin, close to exhausted, but soon…

“What are we waiting for?” he said, coming closer.

“So that’s it? No fight?” I asked, skeptical.

Santo stared at me with burning hatred but then his eyes went placid. “Yeah.”

“Zip tie, Vincent,” I said, extending my hand.

“No need,” Santo said, walking toward the open door of the SUV.

“Going easy, Mr. Carmelli? Good for you,” Michael said once Santo had gotten into the car.

I sat beside him, his surprisingly docile reaction not enough to prevent me from keeping my gun trained on him. It also didn’t slake the desire to beat him to death with it, but I could wait.

Soon, we pulled up to a dark warehouse, one that looked abandoned, though I could see the signs of Maxim’s presence.

We got out, Santo, Michael, and Vincent walking in front of me. As shocking as Santo’s behavior was, Michael’s was worse. He was almost giddy. That fucker thought he had me fooled, but he would soon find out how very wrong he was.

Maxim, Marcos, and two other of the men stood waiting, and I could see Santo’s demeanor change. He looked at Maxim, and I could see the exact moment he gave in.

“So it comes to this, Maxim?” he said.

“So it does. You seem accepting,” Maxim said.

Santo shrugged. “Some shit you can’t come back from. After all these years, I found mine.”

“What can’t you come back from, Santo?” I asked.

Santo swung his gaze from Maxim to me. “I think I killed my kid today.”

“You don’t know?” I asked, anger dimming the edges of my vision.

He shrugged. “What the fuck was I supposed to do? She told me where here loyalties were. Turned her back on me and everything I’d given her. Something came over me…” He paused, choking up in a way I wouldn’t have anticipated. “But she was a good girl. She always tried. Deserved better.”

In an instant, my anger dissipated, and in its place was nothing but disdain.

“You couldn’t think of that before?” I bit out.

“Insight has never been my strong suit,” he said.

He went silent then, then turned to face me. “Is she dead?”

“Out of respect for her, I’m going to make this quick,” I said, lifting the gun.

He frowned, narrowed his eyes and lifted his hands. “Wait! Is she—”

The muffled sound of the silenced shot filled the warehouse, and Santo slid to the ground, the bloom of red spreading between his eyes, his life having left his body before he’d even realized it.

I glanced up to look at Michael, who met my eyes and smiled. “That should have happened years ago,” he said. “I hope we can… Hey!”

Michael looked around wildly as Marcos and one of the others grabbed Michael’s arms.

“Santo gave the order, but you pulled the trigger,” I said, my voice almost inaudible with rage.

“He’s the boss. He gave the order,” Michael said.

“And you took it. Shot her, left her for dead,” I said, trailing behind Michael as Marcos pulled him toward the vise. Michael struggled, but Marcos twisted his arm until it faced the vise and then pulled until Michael’s hand was wedged between the two heavy metal plates.

For the first time, I saw the slimy fucker start to sweat.

“I only did what Santo told me to do,” he said, almost whining.

“You think that’s an excuse?” I asked as I walked toward the vise, watching Michael as he tried to wrestle his hand out of it and got nowhere.

“No…but…”

Michael went quiet, thinking. He’d probably realized there was no way out of this.

“You said you’re going to make this quick. Out of respect,” he said quietly a moment later.

“That was for Santo. Not you,” I said.

Then I grabbed the handle of the vise.

D
aniela

I
ignored
the dull throb in my shoulder, but soon it intensified to the point that I couldn’t any longer. I peeled my eyes open, dropped them again at the first rays of morning sun. I turned to get away from the rays, and my reward was a pain so excruciating, it made my stomach churn.

My eyes popped open again, though my vision still blurred from the pain. In an instant, I remembered where it came from.

Remembered the person I considered a friend, one I had known all my life shooting me.

Remembered that he’d done so at my father’s behest.

A tear slipped from my eyes, and I clenched, unable to stop it, uncaring of the pain that still roiled through me.

I had never imagined it would come to this, had thought there was something holding Santo and me together, something that would protect me from him. I’d been so very wrong.

No matter what I’d done, no matter who I had chosen, if he had loved me, he wouldn’t have tried to kill me. But he didn’t understand the word, and in that moment, I swore to never waste another thought on him.

My face felt sticky, my mouth dry, so despite the pain, I heaved myself out of bed and stumbling, made my way to the bathroom.

I was in Sergei’s room, the room I had started to think of as ours. My toiletries decorated the bathroom sink, and though my room was only a few feet down the hall, leaving my things here felt right, a small representation of the intimacy that was growing between us.

Intimacy that was probably over now.

Sergei would be angry with me, and I wouldn’t be able to blame him. He hadn’t told me not to see my father, but in hindsight, going to him felt like a betrayal. Now I’d caused trouble that I didn’t even fully understand.

I frowned down at the ripped, stained dress I was still wearing, my stomach again clenching when I realized it was my blood that splattered it, and when I looked into the mirror and saw my face, I shuddered again.

I looked like hell.

There wasn’t much I could do to fix that, but I would try, so I pulled myself out of the dress, maneuvering slowly so that I wouldn’t jar myself too much. I slid the dress down, and then got out of my bra with only a few tears. My heart was racing when I finished, so I paused and then turned the water on and wet a cloth.

I wiped out my mouth and then began scrubbing off the flecks of dried blood on my skin.

“Daniela! What are you doing?”

I flinched and jumped at the sound of Sergei’s voice, turned to see him standing in the doorjamb glowering at me.

His expression was twisted with anger, and I dropped the cloth.

“I’m trying to clean up,” I said.

“Should have taken that off myself, but I didn’t want to hurt you,” he muttered.

The next thing I knew, I was in his arms, and he cradled me gently, walked me back to the bedroom, and laid me down.

His face was still set in an angry mask, one that intensified the longer he looked at me. But there was something else in his eyes, a vulnerability I hadn’t seen before.

“Are you in pain?” he said.

I shook my head, a little too hard since the motion made me cry out in pain.

He frowned, reached for the bottle that sat on the nightstand, and then shoved one of the pills toward me.

“That’s unnecessary,” I said.

“Take the pill, Daniela,” he said through gritted teeth.

I took it from him, swallowed it down with a sip of water, and then waited.

A few minutes later, I felt some of the pain begin to fade, and I exhaled, happy for some relief from the physical pain if not the emotions.

I looked at Sergei, who stood, his expression still dark.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

He frowned.

“I am,” I said, my voice taking on an almost dreamy quality. “I shouldn’t have gone there, so I’m sorry,” I said.

He kneeled, reached for my hand. His calloused fingertips against mine made me smile and I sighed.

“Keep holding my hand,” I whispered.

My eyes drifted closed, and though I heard Sergei’s voice, I didn’t hear what he said, so I stopped trying and gave in to the darkness.

S
ergei

S
he had apologized to me
, told me she was sorry for having been there, and it was I who should have apologized to her.

I had failed her, had allowed her to be hurt, and now I was responsible for her father’s death. I would have to reckon with both of those failures, hope that she would forgive me.

So I again stayed by her side as I had before. Didn’t move, and I wouldn’t, not unless she told me to.

She slept for another couple of hours, peaceful, and I watched her as she woke.

“You thirsty?” I asked after watching her for a few long moments. She nodded quickly and then sat up, to sip water.

I handed her the water, and watching her grimace as she tried not to move only made me want to take her pain even more than I already wished I could.

“I’m fine,” she said, though she didn’t meet my eyes. She finished her water and then sat the cup on the nightstand, moving gingerly, tentative.

Then she locked eyes with me. The moment was here.

“Daniela…” I trailed off before I found my voice. “I’m sorry. Santo’s dead,” I said flatly, trying to prepare myself for her reaction.

A tear slid down her cheek and I couldn’t stop myself from wiping it away.

“So that’s it?” she said, her voice distant.

I nodded. She looked back at me, her expression one I couldn’t read. My heart began to pound, and driven by the desire to make her understand, I started speaking.

“I’m not sorry he’s dead, Daniela,” I said. I paused and she didn’t respond, so I kept going. “But I’m sorry if you’re hurt about it. I never want that, Daniela.”

She watched me, and I hoped she heard my sincerity. A moment later, she spoke.

“I understand,” she whispered.

“You do?” I asked, unbelieving.

She nodded. “I think this was always going to happen. Santo made his choices just as I made mine. I don’t blame you,” she said.

“You don’t?” I asked, the hope that was blooming in my chest making it impossible for me to form a more coherent question.

“No,” she said.

“And you don’t hate me?” I asked tentatively, watching her.

She smiled. “Hate you? Sergei, I love you with all my heart. Love you in a way I never thought would be possible,” she said.

My heart pounded so hard I thought it would burst out of my chest. “I love you, Daniela,” I said. “Forever.”