Trapped in his End Game (Series)

Violent thoughts swirl in my head as I pound Vincent’s apartment door, which opens quickly. Adriana, his wife, stands in the doorway, looking as white as a sheet. She brightens when she recognizes me.

“Tommy, come in.”

“Good to see you, Adriana.”

I step inside Vincent’s apartment, Melanie following quickly behind me. Adriana’s face sours when she recognizes Melanie, the woman who ratted on her husband. I don’t like the look she gives Melanie, but I let it slide. There are bigger fucking things going on in the world.

Every muscle in my body tenses when I see Vince’s silhouette down the hall, striding forward quickly. He looks like shit. The stress of being in a federal indictment seems to have taken a toll on Vince’s health. Though his eyes look tired, the way he grabs my lapels suggests that he would have no problem throwing me over his balcony.

“Vincent!” Adriana admonishes.

“When the fuck did you get those photos?”

My back slams against the wall as he yells in my face, the girls screaming behind him. I look into his red-rimmed eyes. “Today. Maybe ten minutes before I sent them to you. Melanie’s the one who recognized them.”

Vincent releases me and stumbles backward with the shocked stupor of someone who’s just been shot. His face twisting in a grimace, he walks away from me to the gray couch sitting in his living room. Adriana follows, looking bewildered at her husband’s sudden display of emotion. He buries his face in his hands.

“Oh God.”

The pain in his voice gives me a jolt of fear. He rocks back and forth, and I worry that he’s snapped. Adriana sits down next to him and rubs his back, shooting me apprehensive looks.

“Vince, if he’s a protected FBI informant-”

“We don’t know shit!” he screams suddenly. “You just saw him at a cafe. That doesn’t prove anything!”

He lifts his red face from his hands to glare at me.

As annoyed as I am by his denial, I’m not surprised. “Then why the fuck would he drive all the way out to Valhalla? Wake up, Vince. He’s a fucking rat.”

Adriana’s inhaled gasp distracts Vincent’s attention. “Are you talking about Jack?”

“Adriana, give us some privacy.”

“I will not.” She turns her terrified face to me. “Tell me.”

“We’re talking about Jack.” I ignore Vince’s flash of rage and keep talking. “This explains why he got off so easily when you all got indicted in that RICO case. Christ, he could’ve given us all up and we’d have no idea.”

He shakes his head, his eyes wider than ever. “I can’t believe it-I just can’t.”

“Yeah,” I agree. My insides rot as I think about all the times Jack clapped me on my shoulder, congratulating me on a job well done. “The piece of shit is talking to the FBI, and I’m not good enough to get made.”

“This isn’t about you.”

I lean over his coffee table, ignoring the twitch of anger inside me. “No, it’s about all of us. You know what needs to be done.”

The reluctance in his gaze worries me.

“He might’ve already given you up.”

He hardens instantly. “He wouldn’t.”

“Vince, I just saw him talking to the feds. I would have never thought he’d talk to the feds, but here we are.”

“Girls, would you please give us some privacy?” The tension in his voice seems to rouse his wife. She gets up immediately, heading toward Melanie, who still stands in the hall. They disappear into one of the rooms and then finally we’re alone.

“I don’t know, Tommy. I don’t know if I can whack him.” His face crumples again and I think of how generous Jack was to me as a kid, how much I looked up to him.

“I can.”

He attacked me without provocation, tried to kill the woman I asked him to spare, and didn’t bat an eyelash. I’ll be glad to kill him. Just get me in a room alone with him. Suddenly the desire to strap him to the table where he had me execute so many of his men overpowers me. I can almost taste his blood in my mouth. God, how ironic would that be?

“And then you’ll be boss.”

White fear flashes over Vincent’s face, and he seems frozen in place. It never occurred to me that Vincent might not want to be boss, might not want the headache that comes with it.

“Tommy, if we actually go through with this-you can’t stay in New York. Paulie is dead.”

My chest burns. “He shot me-what the fuck was I supposed to do? Roll over and let him kill me?”

He looks pained. “I owe you a lot, but that doesn’t mean I’m willing to overlook the death of a made guy.”

I stand up, laughing as my face burns with a rage so powerful, I’m afraid that I’ll use the gun strapped to my waist. “I should have left you in the fucking dark.”

“You’re saving your ass just as much as you’re saving mine. You wanted the girl, you got her-and all the consequences that come with her.”

The bitter taste in my mouth is like black coffee. Vince was the one guy I thought who had my back. It just feels like another blow.

“Help me with Jack, and I will personally see to it that Johnny accepts you into his crew. He doesn’t have to know what happened here. No one does.”

Temptation sweetens the bitterness in my mouth. Montreal could be a good fit for me. I don’t speak French, but supposedly it’s a haven for the mob. There’s less interference from the cops because so many of them are on the payroll, and there’s lots of money to be made. Johnny has a vise grip over the city and nothing much gets by him.

But I’ll have to start all over.

My gaze flicks toward the door where they disappeared. Melanie might need convincing to leave New York. Or maybe not, considering everything that’s happened.

“All right.” I stick out my hand, and Vince grabs it tightly, neither of us blinking as we shake hands.Content © NôvelDrama.Org.

“Okay, I need to make some calls and figure out how the fuck we’re going to do this.”

The temporary truce between us makes me feel slightly more at ease, but I’m worried about her-stuck in that room with that other woman. I stand up slowly and head toward the door as Vince makes calls. Then I knock on the door.

“Mel?”

The door opens to a small nook containing a tiny lime-green couch and a desk. Adriana stands with her hands on her hips, and Melanie’s face streams with tears. My chest tightens when I see her crying, and then Adriana tactfully leaves the room.

“We heard everything.”

I click my tongue against the roof of my mouth, annoyed at the fact that Vince let his wife pick a room in earshot of us. Melanie bends into her hands, another desperate sob shaking from her chest. It’s as if someone has just reached between my ribs and squeezed the fuck out of my heart. I sink down beside her and she buries her face in my chest, squeezing my back.

“Don’t do it. Please, don’t!”

“I can’t believe you’re still defending him-”

“No!” she says in a raw voice. “I’m worried that you’ll never come back.”

The emotion in her voice makes my throat constrict, and a wave of agony trembles through me. I hate myself for making her feel like this.

“Listen to me, Melanie. Just listen.” I dig my fingers in her hair, inhaling her flowery scent. “I love you.”

Her chest swells against mine and my eyes start to burn, but I keep them shut. I can’t fall apart right now, but the pain in her gasps is so strong that I can feel it, too. It’s ripping me apart.

“I promise you that I’ll come back.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“I can do this, Melanie.” I pull back from her and give her the confident smile that she needs. “It shouldn’t be any harder than getting you to fall in love with me, right?”

She reluctantly returns my smile, nodding as she takes a deep breath. “I love you. Please-”

Unable to stomach another desperate plea from her lips, I crush her mouth against mine. She responds passionately, nearly throwing me off the couch as she falls on top of me, ripping the buttons off my shirt. Damn, that’s hot.

A harsh series of knocks startles us both. “Tommy, I don’t want to know what you’re doing in there, but get the fuck out.”

Laughter shakes from my chest as I sit up with her on my lap, and I think about that first time we were interrupted and how pissed off I was. A pink blush blooms over her cheeks and I know she’s thinking about it, too. She helps me button up my shirt, and I’m smiling until I catch her gaze, which is full of tears again.

“Go,” she forces through her lips. “If you have to go, do it now.”

“I promise, Melanie. I’ll come back.”

When I stand up and turn my back on her, I try to erase the haunting image of her tear-stained face from my mind.