His Property, page 21
I laugh ruefully and shake my head. “What is it with you and Harper both thinking I'm going to kill him?
“Uh, hi,” Cordy says. “You do know your family history, right?”
I laugh and shake my head. “Of course I do,” I say. “But you know my personal history and how I feel about the family history, right?”
She nods. “Touché,” she says. “So, if you're not going to kill him, what are you going to do?”
“I'm not sure yet,” I admit. “I've still got a little bit of time left to figure it out.”
“Remember,” she says. “Not letting it end in bloodshed and death is the preferred method of dealing with him.”
“Noted,” I say.
“I still think you should call the cops,” she mutters.
“Also noted,” I say. “Trust me, if it gets too hot, I'll get out and call the cops at that point.”
“Do I have your word on that?”
I nod. “Absolutely,” I say. “You have my word.”
Cordy looks at me for a long moment before nodding her head as if she's finally satisfied. It's not the ideal situation, but nothing about this situation is ideal in any way, shape or form.
“So, tell me about Vegas,” she says, changing the topic quickly.
I smile and nod – and then tell her everything. I start at the top and go all the way through the end of the story – which happens to be the two of us sitting at the table and Harper still asleep upstairs.
“Oh, my God,” Cordy gasps.
“What?”
I look around, expecting to see her freaking out about some insect buzzing around the table. But there's nothing. And yet, Cordy continues to stare at me as if I've grown a second head.
“What is it?” I ask again.
She laughs and there's a note of disbelief in her voice. “You're in love with her.”
“I care for her,” I say. “I care for her deeply.”
“And I can see you already falling in love quickly,” she says. “In all the years I've known you, I've never seen you this free and light, Rob. I've never seen you genuinely happy – not until Harper showed up in your life. I knew she was going to be good for you. Knew she'd be able to get you to open up and learn how to be yourself.”
I smile and shake my head. “She's a really remarkable girl.”
“I can tell,” Cordy says. “And to be honest, I think she is too. And I'm pretty fond of her. I mean, look at you. I haven't seen you smile nearly as often in your life than I have whenever Harper is around. Hell, whenever Harper's name comes up in conversation, you get that goofy, lovesick grin on your dopey face.”
“I like her, Cordy,” I say. “I like her quite a bit.”
“Then don't disappoint her,” she says. “And don't get your ass thrown in jail for doing something stupid tonight.”
“Do something stupid? Me?”
“Yeah, you,” she says, a gentle smile touching her lips.
“I don't plan on it,” I say. “Believe me. I'm just planning on going there, making sure he understands that he's not welcome in Southern California anymore, and be done with it. Be done with him.”
“I'd feel better if you took your bodyguards, Rob.”
“My fear is that they'll just make things more tense. Make things escalate,” I say. “And I don't want that.”
“Maybe,” she says. “Please tell me that you're going to be careful.”
“C'mon, Cordy,” I say. “When have you ever known me to not be careful?”
“Good point.”
“Good morning, Cordelia.”
We both look up and see Harper crossing the deck. She sits down at the table and I pour her a cup of coffee. She takes it from me, giving me a thankful smile.
“So, how did you enjoy your first time in Vegas?” Cordy asks.
The grin on Harper's face is immediate. And she launches into her story, telling Cordelia everything – leaving nothing out. She even takes my phone from me and plays the video I shot of her performing at Club Nova. And when she finishes her story, Cordy sits back in her seat and whistles.
“Wow,” she says. “That sounds like an incredible couple of days. And your voice is unbelievable, Harper. Seriously. I'm totally blown away.”
“Thank you,” she says, the color flaring in her cheeks. She reaches across the table and takes my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Rob is really amazing.”
Cordy nods. “That he is.”
“I think you two have a really good thing going here,” Cordy says. “I've honestly never seen Rob so happy. Not in all the years I've known him. And I have you to thank for that, Harper.”
She shrugs and gives me a smile. “And he makes me just as happy.”
We all sit back and enjoy our coffee and a companionable silence for a few minutes. And then Cordy, as if suddenly remembering something, sits bolt upright in her seat and pulls a newspaper out of her briefcase. She looks at me with the kind of grin I imagine the cat had after eating the canary.
“Okay, so while you crazy kids were enjoying the nightlife in Vegas, the world went on here in LA,” she says. “And a mutual friend of ours – one Maxwell Irving – found himself busted after the LAPD received an anonymous tip and moved on him. They busted him with three underage girls he'd been forcing to perform in his movies. Word on the inside is that he's going to roll on his higher-ups for a better deal.”
“Yeah, that's going to make him real popular in prison,” I remark. “But hey, let's celebrate a win. One scumbag off the streets.”
“Indeed. But I wouldn't be shocked if he ended up in a federal pen to serve out his sentence,” Cordy says. “I bet that's part of the deal so he can keep himself from getting shanked.”
I look over and see Harper looking at the photograph on the front page of the newspaper. It shows the cops leading him away in handcuffs. She looks angry, but she also looks pleased. And I know she's imagining seeing Landon on the front page of the paper in roughly, the same position as Max.
But, Landon is a nobody and the cops won't have anything on him anyway. We can't prove, beyond the shadow of a doubt that he conspired with Max. Can't say for certain that he's even dangerous – at least, not on his own. Unfortunately, the cops won't be able to do a damn thing about Landon Hall.
Which means I have to.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Landon
I glance at my watch and see that we're getting closer to showtime. I pace around the motel room while Frank and Jimmy the stone giant sit in chairs, watching me.
“Would you calm the fuck down, man?” Frank asks. “You're drivin' me crazy with all that pacing.”
I ignore him and go right on pacing. A few minutes later though, the door opens and Marco steps through. He might as well have the Godfather soundtrack playing whenever he enters a room. In a dark suit, dark trench coat, and a dark fedora, Marco is looking like he just came from central casting for a Mafia don.
He slams the door behind him and sits down on the chair next to the bed.
“What's with all the pacing?” Marco asks.
“That's what I asked him, boss,” Frank says. “But he's too good to talk to us.”
“This cockroach?” Marco asked. “You've gotta be fuckin' kidding me.”
I turn and look at Marco. “So? Are we good to go?”
He scoffs. “Please,” he says. “Would I be here if we weren't?”
Marco sits up and pulls a small glass vial out of his pocket. He tosses it to me and I reach out to catch it. But it bounces off my fingertips and falls to the carpet. Frank erupts in laughter and claps his hands. Marco looks at me, shakes his head, and sighs.
“Nice catch, dumbass,” Frank says.
I squat down and pick up the vial, holding it up to the light and look at it.
“What is this?” I ask.
Marco shrugs. “Some shit that's gonna help us out,” he says. “You get a few drops of that in Rob's drink and it'll knock his ass out. Once he's out, we can get him to the warehouse where we're gonna do him.”
I nod and look at the vial again. Can it really be that easy? A few drops and Roberto Rossi will be no more? I smile wide and feel an energy building inside of me. But then a stray thought rattles through my mind and I look at Marco, a chill running along my spine.
“And you're gonna be there, right?” I ask. “You're not gonna fuck me over, right?”
A dark look crosses Marco's face and he looks at me with an expression of sharp anger.
“Hey, asshole,” he snaps. “When I say I'm gonna do somethin', I fuckin' do it. You need to calm your ass down and stop being so damn paranoid.”
I nod and pace the room again, a million thoughts firing through my brain. I check my watch and know I need to get out of here. Time's running short and I need to get to Mercy's and get this show on the road. But, I turn to Marco – I've got one more question.
“Can I do it?” I ask. “When the time comes to put Roberto down, can I be the one who puts a bullet in his head?”
Marco cocks his head, a look of utter distaste on his face. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“I should be the one,” I say. “He's fucked me over, so I should be the one who gets to put him down.”
Marco leans forward and points one of his fat fingers at me. “Hey, he may be an asshole and I may hate his guts, but that kid is my family,” he says. “And you don't let a fuckin' cockroach do your family.”
I stare at him, feeling my temper rising. But I know I need to keep that in check. I need to stuff it down. The only thing that matters is that Rossi is going to be dead. It shouldn't matter who pulls the trigger.
But it does – to me, at least.
~ooo000ooo~
I'm sitting in a booth in the back of the bar. I'd picked Mercy's because they have a crowd that never sees or hears anything when the cops ask – and because there's a door that leads outside next to the booth I'm sitting in. Which should make it easy.
I glance at my watch and see that it's eleven on the dot. A moment later, Rossi walks through the door – minus his goons. He spots me and I see an annoyed look on his face as he walks over to me. Taking a moment to look at me, an expression of pure distaste on his face, Rossi finally sits down across from me.
“Thanks for meetin' me,” I say.
“This will be the last time this happens,” he says.
“And I'm glad you left your goons at home,” I say. “I don't want this to get all tense and shit. I just want the two of us to have a real conversation. Like men.”
I grab the bottle of tequila sitting on the table and pour two shots – I'd already put a couple of drops of the shit Marco gave me in the bottom of his shot glass. I push his glass over to him but he shakes his head, declining to drink.
“C'mon,” I say. “Have one drink with me and let's talk. Man to man.”
“I'm not in the mood for a drink,” he says.
“One drink,” I say. “Just one and I'll stop pestering you about it.”
Rossi rolls his eyes and he picks up his shotglass. I raise mine to him and open my mouth to speak. But he cuts me off by draining the entire shotglass and slamming it down on the table.
“There,” he says. “We shared a drink. Now, talk.”
I drain my glass and set it down on the table gently. I'm resisting the urge to laugh and to tell him what I'd done – and what he is in for. I can't afford to do it – just in case Marco did fuck me. Until I see Rossi here getting sloppy and on the verge of passing out, I'm going to hold on to that secret. Until then, I've got to play this out.
I clear my throat. “I want Harper back.”
“Not going to happen,” he says, his eyes boring into mine. “How many different ways do I need to say that to you?”
“Apparently, a few more, because I want her back,” I repeat. “I've got your mon –”
“I don't want your money,” he says. “That deal is over... ”
His voice trails off and a look of confusion crosses his face. He shakes his head and seems like he's having trouble getting his eyes to focus.
It's working. I slip my phone out of my pocket and send the text message I'd had queued up.
A thrill of excitement shoots through me knowing I'm this close to seeing Roberto Rossi dead and getting Harper back.
Rossi looks at me, his face a mask of confusion and rage. “What have you done?” he asks.
“You're going to have to ask my new business partner,” I say and laugh. “I'm sure he'll be able to fill you in quite nicely.”
Rossi lunges for me but bounces off the table and lands on the floor. A few of the patrons look over but look away just as quickly – completely uninterested in what's going on. Rossi rolls onto his back looking up at me, his eyes wide and unfocused.
I lean over him and give him a predatory smile. “It's your day of reckoning, asshole,” I say. “This is the day the bill comes due for all the evil shit you've done.”
“W – what?” he shakes his head and I watch as his eyes grow even more unfocused.
It's not long before his head slumps back against the floor of the bar and his eyes close completely. I open the back door and let Jimmy the stone giant in – it's his job to get Rossi out and into the van that's waiting outside.
Jimmy picks up Rossi like he's picking up nothing heavier than a bag of paper and slings him over his massive shoulder. I follow him outside, practically dancing as I make my way to the van.
Roberto Rossi is a dead man.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Rob
My head feels like it's wrapped in cotton. Everything's fuzzy and distorted. I open my eyes – at least, I think I do. Everything is pitch black. My throat is dry and scratchy and I have no idea where I am or what happened. I rack my brain, trying to remember. Try to figure out what in the hell is going on.
Fragments and snippets start to drift through my mind. I see Landon's face. He's strung out. I see a shotglass. Tequila. It's all distorted and fuzzy – like I'm looking at the world from the bottom of a pool.
And then I remember hearing him say something about Harper.
And that's the key that unlocks it all. The whole episode comes flooding back to me at once. Landon set up a meet. I went to talk to him and the next thing I know, I'm falling to the ground. I recall feeling a pair of hands on me – large, rough hands. And that's when everything went black.
“Where am I?” I groan.
“Oh, you're awake,” Landon says. “It's about fuckin' time.”
The cloth sack is removed from my head and I wince at the halogen lights that have been set up around me. I look around and find myself sitting in a chair – tied to it, actually. It looks like I'm in an abandoned warehouse. Landon is there and two men I don't recognize. But judging by the size of the one to my right, I'm betting it was his hands I felt on me before I passed out.
“What the hell are you doing, Landon?”
“I'm gettin' what's mine, asshole,” he says. “What, you think you can walk around here, wave your dick around, and think you're the big shit? Doesn't work that way anymore, pal.”
I shake my head, clearing the last of the cobwebs out and everything comes into sharp relief.
“You drugged me,” I say.
“Ain't you the genius,” Landon snaps.
The other two men just stand there, hanging at the edge of the light, not moving and not saying anything. I don't know who they are or how Landon is mixed up with them, but I can tell by their faces, that they're part of a family. Probably one of my father's rivals.
Which means I'm in deep shit.
“What do you want?”
Landon wheels on me and gets down into my face. “Oh, no,” he spits. “It's too late for that, asshole. You had the chance to give me what I wanted already and you spit in my face, so fuck you.”
Landon reaches his arm back and delivers a vicious backhand to me. My head is rocked to the side and I feel the sting of the slap. My mouth is filled with the taste of my blood and I look up at him, spitting out a bright red glob at his feet.
“That wasn't smart,” I say.
He backhands me again and I groan.
“Enough,” comes another voice – one I recognize.
My eyes grow wide when, stepping out of the shadows, comes my uncle – Marco Rossi. My father's brother. He looks at me with narrow, pinched eyes, and a grim expression on his face. Confusion washes over me. I have no idea why he's here or what he's doing with Landon.
“Uncle Marco, what's going on?”
“It's judgment day,” he says.
“What are you talking about?”
“Do you know how long I waited to take over the family?” he asks. “I was patient. I was a good soldier for your dad. I did everything I needed to do to keep this family in power. I did the fuckin' dirty work for your father.”
His face is red and he's growing more agitated as he speaks. I'm still not understanding what's happening or where he's going with this. But then, as I think it over, comprehension slowly starts to dawn on me.
“You think you should have taken over when my father died,” I say.
“Think?” he screams. “I know I should have. But no, he anoints you, the goddamn Golden Child.”
“I never wanted it, Marco,” I say.
He crosses the room, stepping into the light and bends down, putting himself mere inches from my face.
“Then why didn't you just step down?” he asks.
“Because I saw a chance to do some good,” I say. “I saw a chance to turn the Rossi family name into something other than a name associated with death and violence.”
“That wasn't your decision to make.”
“Actually, as the head of the family, it was.”
He delivers a backhand twice as powerful as Landon's and I see stars as my ears start to ring. Darkness creeps in at the edges of my vision and I fight it off. I can't afford to black out now. I feel the blood, warm and sticky, rolling down my face. Taste it in my mouth.
“We had a good thing goin', kid,” Marco says. “Until you came in and fucked it all up.”
“I saw an opportunity for the family to make a lot more money,” I say. “And to do it legally.”
