Under His Watch, page 2
“I need the car back so Joey and I can go to the fishing and hunting store tomorrow, right when they open, so we get the door buster deals.”
“I’m sure I’ll be home before then.”
“Did you get good tips tonight?”
I scowled, fisting my free hand and wishing I could reach through the call and punch him. How could he call himself a parent, only caring about me for the purpose of taking my money?
“I don’t understand why you ever put up with those jobs.” His raspy chuckle, dry from all the years of smoking, grated on my nerves.
It was a no-win situation. I worked and worked and worked, knowing he’d demand a steep cut of my income because he and my mom were so generous as to let me live with them. And I worked and worked and worked because I refused to consider the alternative that he was hinting at right now.
“If you just stopped and thought about it, you could’ve been married already. And none of us would have to work.”
My patience and goodwill snapped. “You don’t work!”
“And you wouldn’t have to either if you just married Elliot already.”
I shook my head and closed my eyes. I’d oppose that scenario until my dying breath.
“It’s your own fault you have to work all these long hours,” he taunted.
No, it wasn’t. He was at fault for the shitty life I had. He insisted that I pay him a steep “rent” to let me live with them. If I could make money and keep it, I’d move out. I’d strike out on my own.
The only way he’d let me out of that agreement was if I moved out—after marrying Elliot.
Hell no. Over my dead body will I ever give that guy hope.
Elliot Hines was a creep. A pervert. An ugly man with, I was now convinced, an even uglier soul. My parents were old friends with his parents, and in some weird, twisted connection as long-standing acquaintances, they’d all gotten it into their heads that I should marry Elliot.
They’d concocted the pairing when we were young. He was hideous and cruel then, the mean bully of a kid no one wanted to be friends with. He never dated because no women wanted to put up with him. But my parents would never quit pressuring me to become his wife.
“He’s loaded, Tessa,” my dad reminded me unnecessarily. “He’s making millions, and you can’t get over yourself long enough to realize how easy life could be if you just married him.”
Easy? Selling myself, selling my soul, would be easy?
“No. I’ve told you and Mom a thousand times that I don’t want to marry him, and I’ll tell you a thousand times more. I am not marrying Elliot.”
“Why not?” he demanded.
“I don’t like him.” That should’ve been the simplest reason to adhere to. Why should I be pressured to marry someone I had no connection with?
“Tough shit. You think I ‘liked’ your mother when we met?”
Covering my face with my hand, I rubbed and held in a groan. I don’t want to hear this.
“She was a nagging, whiny bitch. But hey, she gave decent head and—”
“Stop.” I cringed. “Stop talking.”
“Not liking Elliot is a stupid excuse. You don’t have to like him. Just marry him so we can get easy money. Roll over and let him have his way, put up with it, and get over it.”
Staring at the floor, I wondered what happened to him to make him such a terrible parent, such an awful man and an intolerable human. This was ridiculous.
“What’s not to like about him, anyway? He’s more successful than anyone you’d ever meet on your own,” he scolded.
“Money isn’t everything,” I argued. “Just because he’s a lawyer and makes a ton of money doesn’t mean he’s actually successful.” The last time I talked about Elliot with my best friend, Nina, we read over the recent news about Elliot’s win in court. He seemed corrupt, likely a bad seed in the legal system. But then again, the legal system is crooked anyway, right?
“Money isn’t everything?” He cracked up, laughing so hard I couldn’t hear the late-night talk show in the background on his end of the call. “Oh, sure. Money isn’t everything according to the spoiled young woman who knows nothing about life. If it’s not everything, Little Miss Independent, why are you still living at home with me and your mom?”
“Because ever since you realized I can make money, since I got my first job when I was sixteen, you demanded that I give most of it to you.” He was a world-class asshole and an expert at using guilt to force me to pony up. No teenager should ever have to pay for a household, but he’d insisted upon it.
“You don’t like my rules, then move out,” he snarled.
I wanted to, so badly. Nina and I used to dream big and talk about leaving our shitty lives. She was stuck living with her good-for-nothing brother, Ricky. I was stuck at home with my parents. But during the slow moments of waitressing together at the Hound and Tea, we talked about saving up to move in together, to be roommates and really be conservative with our money to splurge on a vacation someday.
I hadn’t heard from her for a month now, though, and I missed her terribly. I couldn’t fault her for pretending to date Dante Constella, the wealthy crime lord she’d run into the night Ricky lost her in a bet to the notorious motorcycle gang.
Based on her last call, when she admitted that things were really getting heated up between her and Dante, I assumed all was well. Her phone no longer worked, though, and I wasn’t sure whether she’d changed her number or not. Maybe living the easy life as the kept woman of a rich man had her wanting to shed her old identity completely.
No. That can’t be it. Nina and I were best friends. She’d reach out sooner or later. This call with my dad was souring my mood so much that I was thinking negatively.
Nina would contact me. I counted on it. Until she did, though, I would continue to wish that she could rub a little of her luck on me. It would be a miracle if I could meet a man I’d actually be attracted to. A normal, good, and decent man who’d encourage me to get close and maybe lose my virginity.
The pause in my dad’s rambling rant jarred me. I’d tuned him out, thinking about Nina and missing her fiercely. Now that he’d stopped to catch his breath, I realized it was dumb to sit here and let him shout into the void.
“I’ll have the car back before you go to the fishing store with Joey,” I said, dull and deadpan, before I hung up.
Never mind his caring whether I got sleep. Never mind his concern about his twenty-two-year-old daughter getting home and relaxing after her long double shift of work. He was selfish to the core, and I knew better than to think highly of him.
Finally! I shot up from the stool I was waiting on while my supervisor watched my coworker. She strode toward the bathroom, winking at him over her shoulder. This was my chance. I tapped his back and cleared my throat. “Hey, can I go home now?”
He frowned at me. “Jeez. Being patient wouldn’t kill ya, you know?”
My anger boiled hotter. Fuck you. I smiled, forcing this polite expression, and pointed at the checklist he still held. “Sorry to interrupt.” Not. “But I’m expected at home.”
Rolling his eyes, he went through the list. Everything was done. Of course, it was. I might hate my jobs, but I did them well, trained for too long to be a perfectionist and people pleaser. The more perfectly I behaved, the more likely I wouldn’t annoy men—that was the unspoken lesson my parents taught me.
I exhaled in relief as I strode out of the bar.
Walking through this area of the city at almost two in the morning wasn’t a bright idea. I liked to think I had a decent amount of street smarts, but I wasn’t aware of my surroundings.
My feet ached, and my back was sore. In my mind, I calculated the tips I’d gotten today and I figured out how much I could try to keep and hide from my dad. Stuck in my head, I made the biggest mistake of all.
I didn’t notice the group of three men following me toward my car until it was too late. A sixth sense of feeling like I was being watched prompted me to look back, glancing over my shoulder.
They made eye contact, smiling with a predatory glee. Then as one, they ran after me.
“No!” I screamed it, terrified as I tried to sprint to my car. In my haste, I tripped and fell. Coins scattered from my apron as I dropped. Dollar bills sprayed out over the pavement.
Before I could register the burn and pain from tripping and falling, their hands were on me. Dragged off and silenced with a dirty hand over my mouth, I panicked.
Forget hating my life and feeling like I had no way out of it.
I had to suffer an even worse fate now.
3
ROMEO
Even though I spent all day working at the house, hauling out bags and bundles of ripped-out wallpaper, I wasn’t calling it a night yet.
Just like Franco and I decided, we would keep up with gathering intel for this war my father declared against the Giovanni Family and the Devil’s Brothers MC. So, by day, I avoided being idle by renovating that house. And by night, I met up with the spies I’d delegated to follow the bikers.
“I’m sorry I don’t have anything new to tell you,” Andy, one of my spies, said. He shrugged as he cradled a beer bottle between his hands. He was a bourbon drinker, but to blend in near this part of the city and stay undercover, he was trying to look more like a middle-class, blue-collar working man.
I sighed and shook my head. “No. It’s all right.” I sat up straighter, regretting that I might have pulled my back dragging debris and junk out of the house earlier. I was only thirty-one. I wasn’t old yet. But maybe I was overdoing it.
He chuckled, noticing my wince. “Work out too hard or something?” He smirked before taking a sip of his beer. “Like father, like son.”
I grunted a laugh. My father did enjoy working out a lot. He was so much of a gym junkie that he renovated and arranged for a state-of-the-art gym at the mansion. However, it seemed Nina also enjoyed exercising. I stopped going to work out there as often when I walked in on them getting a quickie in between reps.
I furrowed my brow, annoyed that I couldn’t shed this envy. I wanted that. I wished for that feeling of just fitting with someone so perfectly, but I doubted any such woman was made for me like that.
“I hope no news is good news,” Andy added. He’d been undercover spying on the Devil’s Brothers bikers for over a month now. Several others were always watching them. Together, they didn’t have much to report.
The Devil’s Brothers MC was new on the scene here. Motorcycle gangs came and went. Mafia families, like the Constellas, Giovannis, and even the Domino Family, were organizations that had been established many generations ago. The Dominos were taken out by the bikers, but that wasn’t the norm. Still, there was much to learn about these elusive bikers trying to claim a place of power.
“I wouldn’t say that no news is good news,” I replied seriously. I saw no point in lying. “Because they know that we’ve identified them as our enemies.”
Andy nodded, frowning at his beer bottle. “I hope Nina is recovering from being kidnapped.”
“Oh, she’s doing fine. Happy about the baby and in love with my father.” I shrugged.
He grinned, looking the part of an ordinary man teasing a friend at this bar. “It’s pretty wild. Once they marry, she’ll be your stepmom.”
I gave him a deadpanned look, not wanting to humor him.
“She’s what, like a couple years younger than you?”
I exhaled long and hard, not taking the bait.
“All right. All right.” He set his empty bottle on the bar. “Enough teasing. It’s not like there aren’t other couples in the Family with years separating them.”
My father and Nina had a significant age gap, but if it worked for them, who was Andy—or anyone else—to judge?
Maybe that’s what I need. A younger woman to teach and educate about how hard I like it. An experienced, older woman would likely be too damn independent to consider being submissive.
“Anyway,” Andy said, bringing me back to the reason I came way out here to chat at the bar. While it was disappointing that he didn’t have much intel to share about the movements of the Devil’s Brothers men, I was glad to have a chance to check in with him. Ever since I'd failed to save my other Mafia brothers, I’d adopted a habit of trying to supervise them all.
“I’ll keep looking and listening.”
I clapped him on his back. “Good. I appreciate it.”
Andy huffed. “Well, it’s my job.”
True. And he’d do it well. “Just make sure you report to me.”
“Not Dante.” Andy raised his brows. “He’s the one who put me on this assignment to begin with. I gotta admit, I was surprised when you showed up.”
I nodded. “Yes. Me. I’m taking over this part of preparation. All intel about the MC will be reported to me.”
“What about Franco?” he asked.
“He’s heading up gathering the intel about the Giovannis.” We’d schemed a two-pronged approach. With Stefan aligning with Reaper, combining the rival Mafia Family with the bikers, Franco and I could divide our attention in half. This spared my father from getting too involved.
“My father needs this time to focus on Nina. They’re getting ready for the baby. And after that, planning their wedding.” I stretched again, hating the tension in my muscles. I didn’t intend to stay long. It was clear that I needed a good night of rest. “Franco and I intend to stay on top of getting the intel we need to attack those fuckers.”
Andy didn’t argue, nodding and standing. I stood as well, tossing several bills to the bar top to cover our drinks and then some.
“If you ask me, Dante’s been overdue for some love in his life.”
My father had been all work and no play for too long. “Agreed.”
As we walked toward the exit of the bar, I noticed the few stragglers, likely regulars who would stay until last call. This place was a hole in the wall, a dump that no crime family, club, or gang considered their turf. As such, it was ideal for meeting up with spies. Andy and I agreed on another meeting a couple of weeks from now, and I watched as he turned to the east and headed out into the night. For the sake of not looking like we knew each other out here, where anyone could be watching, we parted without any further farewell.
Fatigue slithered through me as I walked toward the west, where I’d parked in a dark lot. I was exhausted, mentally and physically, but it was impossible to slack in checking my surroundings. I was alert as I strolled through the alley, always ready for an ambush or attack. That was simply part of the job description, I supposed.
This alley interested two long rows of businesses, but no skyscrapers blocked out the streetlamps. Dim lights offered me the way forward. Other than the distant thumping bass from nightclubs that would stay open for hours into the morning, it was quiet. Save for my footsteps, it was silent back here, giving the illusion of peace. The city never truly slept, though.
Nearing the lot where I’d parked my car, I heard something else, though. Grunts. Muffled noises from someone’s mouth. When a whimper reached me as I walked past the rear entrance of another smaller bar, I sped up.
I knew those sounds. I’d caused those sounds. Grunts that paired with the force of flesh against flesh as I fucked a woman hard. Muted moans of someone being gagged. The whimpers could only be the result of someone in pain or afraid. That was what prompted me to sprint faster and intervene.
I’d tortured and killed many people in my line of work. It was almost hypocritical of me to want to intervene in someone else performing either of those tasks. The difference was that I knew my actions were always just—in the name of protecting my family and organization.
The three man holding down a woman and fucking her was not just. Not one goddamn bit.
I ran faster, oblivious to keeping guard. If they had another person looking out, I wouldn’t know it.
As red colored my vision and my heart raced with the adrenaline rush of impending violence, I stared at the gang rape and anticipated the sweet promise of making them regret it.
“Hey. Hey!” The man fucking her ass noticed me first. His sick grin shifted into a scowl of confusion. Then he glared with anger. “Fuck off, man.”
My fist landed on his face, cutting off his orders. I punched him so hard that he flew back, slamming to the pavement.
“Whoa. Dude—”
I kicked the other man from behind, preventing him from finishing his words. He’d been fucking her from the front, sandwiching the terrified blonde. With his legs splayed apart, his balls were exposed and vulnerable. I slammed my shoe between his legs, smashing him where he was most vulnerable in the middle of the act.
He was too slow to fall. I grabbed him as he cried out and doubled over, wrenching him off the woman.
Her big blue eyes widened at me. Behind the tears, she stared at me with horror.
If I weren’t consumed with rage, I might have slowed down enough to realize she feared me as another man to rape her, but that wasn’t the case. “I won’t hurt you,” I told her as I turned to the third man.
He was still in the process of pulling his pants up, clumsy with trying to stow his wet dick inside and zip up. It seemed he’d already had his turn.
“Fuck you. Just fuck off, dude. Nothing to see here,” he said with a bravado that wouldn’t hold up once I reached him.
Grabbing his hair, I slammed his head down to my knee. Once. Twice.
Crack.
There it was. With his nose smashed in, blood spurting out fast, I spun him. Still holding his hair, I cinched the strands tighter, damn near scalping him with the hold. “Nothing to see?” I punched him directly in both of his eyes. “Yeah. Nothing to see.” I’d be shocked if he wasn’t blind after that.
I let the man drop to his knees, glad that my back blocked the woman’s view. She was sobbing, heaving for air past the fabric they’d tied around her mouth. Already violated and terrified, I didn’t need her to witness my wrath.
