Ruining Me: The Insidious Seven MC, Book Two, page 14
“You remember when Liam and Tatum got back together?” he asks, and I feel all the blood rush from my face. He’s referring to the night after Ace caught Tatum sneaking around a receiving port Antonio Pelosi was using for his nefarious activities. Ace knocked her out and brought her back here for questioning. Questioning that ended with Liam fucking her all night, ensuring that all of us heard through the walls.
Garbled gibberish spills from my mouth as a way of defending myself before Cooper waves his hand at me, silencing my denials.
“I’m the only one who heard anything. I was up and heading back to my apartment. I walked just past her door when I heard both of you. Though, I didn’t need to catch you two to know that was inevitably going to happen,” he relays with a softness in his eyes I have never seen.
Without bothering to defend myself against his accusations, I relent. What’s the point of fighting? I’ve been caught red-handed.
“It was a mistake,” I say quickly, studying him. He doesn’t move, simply holds his gaze steady with mine and purses his lips ever so slightly. He spins the glass against the table, swirling the liquid inside. “It’ll never happen again,” I promise even as my soul thrashes in opposition. My heart is racing in my chest so hard I can hear it in my ears. His sitting there saying nothing at all has me panicking in a way I haven’t felt since the day of the fire. “Are you going to tell Li?” I finally ask the only question that matters.
His brows furrow in the center as he stops spinning his glass. “Would that be a bad thing if I did?” he asks.
I nod my head furiously. “Yes, it would be a very bad thing,” I rush to say.
He releases his mostly untouched glass and leans forward, placing his forearms against his thighs as he faces me completely. “Why?”
Why? Isn’t it obvious?
I huff a laugh, but it holds no humor as I lean back in my seat. A weariness I’ve never felt before falls over my eyes, making the lids extremely heavy. I drag my hand over them before threading my fingers into my hair, brushing it back away from my face. “Somehow I don’t think Liam will like the idea of his so-called best friend defiling his perfect little sister,” I growl at no one and return my gaze to Coop. “He has spent most of his life keeping her away from truly horrendous realities; there’s no way he would be okay with me introducing her to them. Liam knows I’m not good for her,” I admit.
Coop stares at me for long moments, saying nothing. The crease between his brows only seems to deepen as he studies me. And just when I think he’ll never speak again, he moves much quicker than a guy his size should be able to and punches me in my bicep with a quick jab. Pain flares and radiates up to my shoulder like a million zaps of electricity, causing me to wince and flinch away from him.
“Fuck,” I groan under my breath and grab my now dead arm, cradling it to my side. Even when Coop isn’t angry, his punches feel like his fist is made of solid concrete.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he snarls.
“I know!” I shout. “I know, I fucked up. I lost control.”
His scowl deepens, and I lean as far away from him as I can before he can hit me again. “No, not that, you dumbass,” he growls. When I frown, he continues. “Why do you think going after Sofee is a bad idea?”
His words make me balk. Out of all the things he could have said, I didn’t expect those words to pass his lips. I open my mouth, but he cuts me off at the pass.
“You think I haven’t noticed the way you look at her when you think nobody is watching? You look at her the same way she looks at you. And I, for one, am tired of you sulking around like a miserable cow, thinking you’re not good enough for anything,” he says, shocking me further.
“You don’t get it, my past is—”
“You’re past is what?” he cuts me off again. “Dark? Full of skeletons? So fucking what? We all have shit in our pasts that we don’t want others to see, but at the end of the day, none of that shit matters.” His jaw clenches tightly as he finishes speaking.
I try to pull my gaze away from him, but he follows my line of sight, forcing me to look at him without words. “What are you so afraid of?” he asks.
Emotion clogs my throat as I stare at my friend. I’ve only ever told Liam about Alana, and only after I was drooling drunk. I don’t know if I have the stomach to confess my mistakes all over again. “I’m not… good,” I manage with a raspy voice and swallow past the lump in my throat. “I’m not good, but she is. She is so fucking good and I will destroy that. Everything good I’ve ever had has been taken from me, so why should she be any different?”
My chest heaves as I stare at him, trying to make him see reason. “There was a woman,” I blink rapidly to dispel the visions of blood trickling to the ground from my mind. “And she—she got hurt. I watched my father hurt her in front of me just because she had the wild notion to love me. He killed her in front of me to prove that nothing good would ever come from being with me.” My voice wobbles as I hesitate to speak my truth. “She died because of me.”
Coop says nothing for a long moment while I meet his searing gaze with one of my own. I don’t understand why I feel such a strong compulsion to make him agree with me. It's as if convincing him that I’m damaged goods would solidify what I’ve always known to be true.
When he finally leans back and crosses his arms in front of his giant chest, I think I’ve gotten my point across. Until he opens his mouth. “Sounds like you're trying to answer for the sins of your father and not your own.”
I recoil from his accusation. “She only died because she was with me,” I blurt quickly. Coop rolls his eyes in a way that tells me I’m not going to like what he says next.
“So, are you supposed to roll over and die with her?” His words are spoken without malice or sympathy. He poses the question as if it were simple. "You can get pissy with me for saying this, but the world kept moving. After your girl died, you survived. What do you think she would say if she could see you now? If she could see that you're allowing your dead, sociopathic father to win. You would rather let him steal all your joy and control your life, even from beyond the grave, than grasp onto something real? Something that is right in front of you, but you’re too goddamn stupid to take it before she wises up and leaves. Because believe me, brother, she’ll eventually give up on you. She’s the kind of woman who knows her worth and won’t put up with your shit for long. And then where will you be? Sitting here in this fucking bar, drinking alone. A shell of a man with nothing to cling to except his shitty past and regrets.”
I fight to catch my breath as if his words have stolen all the air in the room. I’m stunned into complete silence as I reel with what to say next. But before I can think of anything to defend myself against the truth bomb he just dropped, the front entrance to the bar dings open.
My wide-eyed stare shifts from Coop to the front door as Romeo steps inside, a lit cigarette dangling from his fingers. Cooper redirects his attention to the outsider before rising from the table. He picks up my discarded vest from the seat across from me before thrusting it my way. I numbly wrap my hand around the thick leather that smells of rose petals. As he lets go, he speaks once more.
“Are you always going to let your past define the man you are today?” he asks softly, making it clear that his words are intended for my ears only. Without saying anything else, he turns and heads toward the kitchen. I can do nothing more than stare at the symbol on my vest until I hear the sound of him pushing through the kitchen door.
Sliding away from the table, I stand as if on autopilot. Without thinking, I pull the sweet-smelling leather up my arms and settle the heavy garment over my shoulders. I resist the urge to close my eyes as her scent surrounds me. I’ll only see memories of her begging for more of my sweet torture if I do.
Walking on numb feet, I stalk toward my twin. “Let’s go,” I murmur and don’t slow my gait as I push out the door into the bright daylight, my past hot on my heels.
ELEVEN
DECLAN
A few cars are parked in front of the clearly rundown building. The black asphalt they’re parked on radiates an ungodly heat under the midday sun, causing visible heat waves to rise from the cracked surface. The dingy red neon sign on top of the building flashes rapidly, depicting the name of this fine dining restaurant. Who the fuck thought “Sloppy Joe’s” was a good name for a cafe?
“Our intel puts this guy inside. Dom surveilled the joint last night and notified me the moment this guy crawled out of whatever gutter he’s been staying in.” My brother’s voice fills the interior of his luxurious Audi, drawing my attention away from the shitty little diner we’re parked in front of.
“Name’s James, better known as Jimmy Rodriguez, ex-con pinned down for drug distribution back in the day, been out on the streets for the better part of nine years now. Had an uncle named Joe who left him this five-star eating establishment in his will. Despite appearing as a legitimate business owner, Jimmy still spends his weekends supplying local dealers with his product. Jimmy boy seems to have a refined taste for the ol’ booger sugar,” Rome says as he places a finger against one of his nostrils and sniffs loudly. Then he smiles that boyish grin I grew up with. His extravagant display nearly draws a chuckle from me, but I tighten my lips and remain silent.
His eyes, darkened and puffy from the slight bruising around his nose, narrow and his smile fades before he returns his attention to the manila file in his hands. No small amount of pride washes over me once more as I see the evidence of our earlier altercation this morning. Even now, seeing him wince with each deep breath he takes, and the bruises on his face getting darker, I feel the urge to smile.
“Seems he took to real estate investments a couple of years ago,” he murmurs and flips over one of the pages. “Or at least, had some properties listed in his name. One is a warehouse not too far from here where he cooks his product. It took my guys some time to connect the dots between Antonio and Jimmy, but they finally found the money trail linking the two. Antonio purchased the warehouse for our little entrepreneur in exchange for a safe place to hold up while he was in New Orleans. And before you ask, no, it wasn’t the warehouse. My guys already raided it after Jimmy showed up here this morning. Niente.” He shakes his head. “Well, besides a boatload of coke.”
“So, this is a bust then?” I growl, annoyed that he’s wasting my time with this shit. Then he smiles at me as though he was anticipating my question.
“This isn't the only place Sloppy Joe left him.” He nods toward the rundown cafe. “There are properties all over South Louisiana with this guy's name on the deeds. Meaning there are too many to search all of them. Wherever Antonio stayed, and Matteo is likely staying, has been kept buried deep. Our friend here is the only one who can tell us exactly where that is.”
He flips the file shut with a quick flick of his wrist and opens the glove compartment in front of me. After shoving the file inside, he quickly grabs a golden-colored Colt and pulls it out. It shines brightly under the midday sun, almost blinding me as I look at it. Though the black grip of the weapon looks beautifully crafted with the Morelli family crest, I can’t stop the humor rising within me as I study the ridiculously shiny gun. He starts to check the clip as I fail to hold back a snort.
“What the fuck is that?” I ask, astonishment filling my tone. “Should I start calling you Bond, James Bond?” I taunt in a mock British accent. He looks me dead in the eyes as he pushes the clip back into place before opening his door.
“It’s okay to be jealous, not all of us have style, Fratellino.” He wiggles his dark brows before stepping out of the vehicle. I chuckle and follow suit, climbing out before standing and leaning against the roof of his car. There’s a small grin tugging on my lips as I watch him tuck the pistol in his side holster, not bothering to hide the fact that he’s carrying. When you’re a king in the criminal underworld, there’s no need to hide the threat you pose.
“You call that style? Whatever you say, 007,” I jeer, laughter filling my voice. I track him as he closes his door and steps around the car. Pushing my door closed, I mirror his movements.
“Yes, this,” he gestures to himself before frowning my way. “Is style. Something you have clearly lost since leaving home.”
I refuse to let myself react to his mention of home. This lighter-hearted conversation is something I didn’t know I needed, and I don’t want it to be ruined by my dark thoughts. I grab the lapels of my vest and pull them back. Tilting my chin down, I glance at myself. I'm wearing a fitted black T-shirt, dark worn-down denim jeans, black steel-toed boots, and my Glock 19 tucked into the concealed holster just below my leather.
“I have style,” I frown back at him. He tosses his head back and laughs in my face.
“Okay, Wednesday Addams. If Death had a fucking wardrobe, he would model it after your clothing choices.” He smiles as we start to walk around to the back of the building.
I scrunch my nose. “Says the guy who has crows tattooed on the back of his hands,” I scoff.
Rome stops walking for a beat and I follow suit. He glances at the back of his hands before meeting my gaze. Violet eyes twin to my own shimmer with an emotion I can’t read.
“They’re not crows,” he murmurs. “They’re doves.”
“Black doves?” I ask, almost dumbfounded.
He nods. “They symbolize freedom within the suffocating confinement of darkness.” He averts his eyes before turning and walking away from me. “I got them after Papà died,” he throws over his shoulder.
His admission triggers an ache spreading within my chest that I want to rub away, but refuse to. All the while, he never slows down as he strides away from me. I shake myself and rush to catch up with him. It might not make much sense to outsiders, but I understand him. Sometimes it’s hard to find your way out of the darkness if you don’t have something guiding you. And even if it’s the presence of death that helps you out, you hold onto it with both fucking hands.
Rome stops at the back door and waits for me. I step up to him and give him a silent nod, letting him know without words that I see him. I understand the meaning of his fleshy art. And without speaking I feel as though something has finally settled between us. He may still be my reminder of the past, but I sense our shared connection—the one we forged out of the darkest part of our lives. Sometimes, it’s easy to forget that he’s a survivor of our childhood too.
Rome nods before clearing his throat. “Alright, why don’t you let me handle this one? You’ve been out of the game for too long. When was the last time you were on a shakedown?” he asks with a teasing gleam in his eyes.
I roll my eyes and shove him out of the way, letting him watch his Fratellino interrogate one little informant.
I twist the doorknob and push the door open like I own the joint. Stepping into the small back room that serves as a breakroom, I’m immediately assaulted by the smell of greasy fries and stale bread. Ignoring the grimy walls and floors, I search for Jimmy. Then I spot a half-open door that appears to lead to an office.
Without actually meeting the guy, I’ve already decided what type of lowlife he is. And because I know his type, I know I’ll find his lazy ass hiding inside the office even though it’s the lunch rush. Guys like him don’t care how they treat their staff. He probably only keeps this place as a front to launder all his coke-covered money anyway. So it stands to reason as to why the place is such a shithole.
I push open the door silently and am immediately delighted by the sight of the man I’m hunting for. Or at least, I am until I see what he’s watching on his computer. Jimmy is so engrossed in the monitor, depicting what appears to be a woman using the ladies restroom in this fucking cafe, that he doesn’t even realize he’s been caught sexually assaulting one of his waitresses.
I rip my gaze away from the monitor and focus on the pit stain sitting in the office chair. Then, I shove my booted foot into the side of his desk, kicking as hard as I can. The force I use sends his desk hurtling into the wall next to him with a deafening crash. He scrambles away before all the shit on top of it starts falling onto his lap.
I’m met with beady black eyes and a sweat-soaked forehead as Jimmy pulls his wide stare toward me. His greasy light-colored hair is on the longer side, swept away from his face in a haphazard topknot. His long nose points the way to his thin lips, framed by a patchy blond beard. Just by looking at this man, I can see his addiction painted on his homely face.
I smile like a feral beast as I hear my brother step up beside me. “Like I said, your style has all but vanished completely,” he says calmly. I ignore him as Jimmy starts to stand, stumbling over his words.
“Wh– Who the fuck are you?”
I take two big strides toward the sweaty little fella and grab onto his grease-stained red polo. I cock my head to the side as I bare my teeth at him in a mock smile.
“We heard you have some info we’re looking for,” I say in a calmer tone than I feel.
Jimmy demonstrates how easily he's going to break as he fumbles over his words. “Wh– Whatever you need, man. You need me to rat on someone? I– I’ve seen everyone’s dirty laundry. Who is it? Is it Georgie? I got the dirt if you got the bucket.” He swallows thickly, so easily willing to rat on his friend. I almost pity Georgie until I realize that he's likely no better than the shitstain in front of me.
But I know that as soon as I tell him who I actually need information on, he'll clam up tighter than a tick’s ass. Even rats know to keep their mouths shut when there are bigger predators at play.
“Matteo Pelosi, where is he?” I ask with precision in my tone, making sure he doesn't mistake my words for anything other than a threat. As expected, Jimmy loses all blood flow to his face, his eyes widening. He vigorously shakes his head in denial.
“Never heard of ‘em.” His words are garbled with panic. I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth and shake my head.
