Eli Morelli
The boardroom at Velvet House is located behind the employee quarters. Its fortified walls mean it doubles as a panic room and it’s regularly swept for bugs and recording equipment. I’m the first to arrive. Bobby and Doc requested time to change their clothes and considering their combined scent of cigarette ash, sweat, and fast food, I agreed.
The room has a coffee machine. I make myself a macchiato and find my hands still shaking with rage. Unlike Doc and Bobby, January Whitehall looked like a fresh-faced angel in the morning light, my rubies still around her neck. But the disrespect she showed me… she should have been weeping and begging for my forgiveness, not arguing with me and giving me the finger.
If there weren’t fifty messes to clean up, I’d have the brat in my bedroom and be spanking her until she bruised.
I down my espresso in one. I haven’t slept, I stayed up all night staring at a screen, ensuring the tracking device in the rubies around January’s neck was still live and that she was still safe. My eyes are grainy, and my temper is held back by a thread. True anger is a luxury I can rarely afford, but the last twenty-four hours have stretched me to my limits. When I learned January had been taken by Parker, I was sure she was dead. That man is spiteful to his bones, and I thought Adriano had fucked her before he betrayed us—rendering that beautiful girl worthless in Parker’s eyes. Yet she survived and her virtue is uncorrupted.
I swore if I saw her again, I would claim her and not just for myself.
As I stared, transfixed into that dark screen, aware of exactly how lucky I had been, I knew Doc, Bobby and Adriano were feeling the same mix of dread and relief. And I understood in ways I didn’t before that all of us want her. And that if we are to have any peace, all of us will have to have her. One love. A new kind of family.
It sounds strange but it feels… correct. Sharing one woman with my brothers isn’t unusual, but our feelings for January Whitehall are. Perhaps it was always meant to be this way. There is no one for me but her now, a very different kind of wife from the one I imagined.
There will be pushback from my mother’s family, but no man who lays eyes on January will question my decision. Unless her insolence continues…
I hit the button for more coffee, black this time. I can appreciate January has gone through trauma and lost a loved one, but a wife should be respectful and obedient. I will teach her that, just as soon as I’ve resolved everything else.
Coffee in hand, I take a seat at the polished table. There’s a knock on the door and Doc appears, barefoot in ripped jeans and a sleeveless pink T-shirt. He takes the seat across from mine, sipping his own enormous mug of coffee. “What’s going on? Have we heard from Parker?”
“I’m not going to discuss it without Bobby.”
“I’m here.” Bobby rushes in, still buttoning his plaid shirt. “Parker sent us a message? With who? Harrow? Milner?”
“No one. An encrypted file arrived around the time you two were at Dreams.”
Bobby takes the seat beside Doc. “You think the Baskerville kid tipped him off?”
“No, but—”
“He’s not a kid,” Doc interrupts. “He’s twenty-six and a rat.”
Bobby rolls his eyes. From his messages, I know Doc almost beat Archie Baskerville to a pulp because he and January hugged. But that’s Doc. All rage and compulsion. The thought of another man touching January makes my blood boil but according to Bobby the embrace was innocent and the Baskerville twins did us an almighty favor. Considering them for a job is on the list of things to address once my main problems are dealt with. Parker. Adriano. January.
“Archie and his brother are in the clear,” I tell Doc. “Bill is in the hospital for his concussion and Archie’s laying low in the Bronx.”
Doc pounds his mug on the table. “They’re scumbag traitors.”
“Traitors to Parker. Without them, January would be—”
“Back with us. Because Bobby and I would have tracked the necklace to the airstrip and shot Parker through the head. Then we wouldn’t have to deal with any of this shit.”
I don’t respond. He could be right, but he could be wrong. It’s nice to believe we could have rescued January, but I didn’t become the man I am because of my nice beliefs. The facts are we might have been delayed while tracking the necklace or Parker could have lost his temper and injured January. Or worse. Archie Baskerville and his brother made sure that didn’t happen and we could use new blood on our crew.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I tell Doc. “Bill and Archie are smart, they’ve been in the game for years, they—”
“Want to fuck January.”
“Yes, because they’re human,” Bobby interrupts. “But they’re not suicidal enough to act on it. Having them on the payroll while they’re still working for Parker—”
“And how do we know they won’t fuck us like they fucked him?”
“Enough,” I say wearily. “Aren’t either of you idiotas interested in Parker’s message?”
Bobby shuts up at once.
Doc scratches his untidy blond head. “What’s the message?”
“No, go on bitching about the Baskerville twins, I’m sure that’s more important.”
Doc rolls his eyes “Sorry, Morelli. What’s the message?”
I stare at him, mildly amazed. “I’ve never heard you apologize. I feel like I should make a wish.”
Doc grits his teeth. “What’s the fucking message? Can we watch it?”
“The file corrupted after the initial play.”
“Fuck.”
I pull out my phone. “So, you’re lucky I think on my feet. I filmed it off Sal’s monitor. The quality’s low, but you can still see everything.”
I slide my phone across the table and my brothers lean in to watch. I’ve seen the video so many times I know it off by heart, Parker on his private plane, his redheaded girlfriend naked in his lap. Her face is blank; his, full of a slack fury I know all too well.
“I’m done with words, Morelli. You’ve got twelve hours from midnight to give me January or I’m gonna kill the bitch’s sister.”
He cups the redhead’s tit and squeezes so hard she gasps. “This isn’t some bullshit threat. I’ve already shot your bootlicker. Twelve hours from midnight, I want that cunt in Vegas or it’ll be a fucking bloodbath. Margot Whitehall first and then… who fucking knows?”
Sal’s monitor goes black and the video ends.
Doc slams both palms on the table. “Fucker.”
Bobby turns to me. “How serious do you think he is?”
“He’s already got snipers posted outside the Whitehall mansion. He’s not bluffing.”
A muscle twitches in Bobby’s jaw. “What are we gonna do? Can we get out to Vegas and kill him?”
If things weren’t so dire, I’d smile. For the last year, Bobby hasn’t wanted to hurt anyone. Now I could send him to Parker with a screwdriver and he’d find a way to decapitate him.
I take a long swig of coffee. “We can’t get to Parker. He’s holed up in the Palm Casino with the redhead and fifty bodyguards. Twenty-four hour security. People testing his food. It’s impossible to get to him.”
“Twelve hours after midnight.” Bobby checks his watch. “That leaves… five fucking hours.”
He looks at me in horror. “You let us shower!”
“You shouldn’t make decisions in a state of panic.”
Doc barks out a laugh. “Just tell us what the fucking plan is, Morelli.”
I have a plan, of course I do. But I won’t let Doc bait me into revealing it before they’re ready. “I see several options we can pursue. And one that leads to a good outcome.”
“What?” Bobby urges. “What is it?”
“I’m going to talk you through the other options first, so you understand—”
“Hurry the fuck up,” Doc snarls.
I take another slow sip of coffee. “You know, this isn’t bad. We should get a machine for the kitche—”
“Please, Morelli. Please hurry the fuck up?”
I take in Doc’s pinched face and hollow eyes and feel slightly bad. I’ve had all night to dwell on this. For my brothers, Parker’s threat is new and horrifying. I lay my hands on the table. “Option one. We return Janua—”
“No,” Bobby says.
“Not going to happen,” Doc snarls. “Next.”
“Option two, we keep January and leave Parker to his business. Assuming the threat on Margot’s life isn’t empty and she is killed, the Whitehalls are a reasonably powerful family. January’s uncles have the resources to find Parker and the contacts to kill or arrest him. Hopefully, before he attacks January’s brothers.”
Doc snorts. “That’s a lotta faith in the Whitehalls. We’ve had January for ages, and they’ve done fuck nothing.”
“They consider January a write-off,” I remind him. “She’s the youngest member of her extended family and her engagement to Parker caused a lot of guilty consciences. That meant her uncles were reluctant to step in. If Parker kills Margot, it’ll be different. She’s Nicholas Whitehall’s oldest child and assassination looks worse than kidnapping.”
Bobby lets out a long breath. “No guarantees, though…”
“No. And I don’t need to tell either of you that if Parker kills Margot, we are in a world of shit with January.”
Doc frowns. “Why?”
Apparently, I do need to tell someone. “You think the girl will let us touch her once her sister is dead?”
“We’re not the ones killing the bitch!”
“No, Parker is. And we’ll be responsible for exacerbating the situation with Parker.”
Doc swivels his head from side to side as though looking for a way around this. “I don’t want to be a scumbag, but by that logic, January’s Zia died because of us…” Doc does a quick sign of the cross. “…and January was still giving me sex eyes this morning. I’m not saying I want her sister to die, but—”
“Her Zia was old,” I snap. “She smoked heavily. I imagine January accepted her time was coming sooner rather than later. Her sister on the other hand—”
“Is twenty-four,” Bobby finishes. “January’ll never forgive us if she knows we could have done something to save Margot.”
Doc’s face hardens. “We’ve all lost people to Parker. People who should still be alive now.”
“Then you shouldn’t want January to go through that!” Bobby glares at him. “There’s being a selfish prick and there’s what you’re suggesting Valente. It’s beyond the fucking pale.”
Doc looks to me. “Option three?”
“We contact January’s stepmother—”
“That cunt,” Doc says darkly. “I wish Parker wanted to shoot her. Talk about two birds, one stone.”
“We contact January’s stepmother,” I say loudly, “And tell her to take her children into hiding. To relocate somewhere until we can gain access to Parker and kill him.”
“That won’t work,” Bobby says glumly. “That woman wants Parker to marry January. She’d sell us out as soon as we hung up the phone.”
“Exactly,” I say. “And she’s already traded one stepdaughter to get out of debt. Who’s to say she’d be moved by a threat on another. So, there’s option four; as discussed, we send a team to Vegas to infiltrate Palm Casino.”
“But we know that’s a suicide mission,” Bobby says. “We don’t have the manpower to stage an assassination while he’s on red alert.”
“Agreed. Which brings us to option five.” I drum my fingertips on the table.
“What is it?” Doc demands.
I open my mouth and find the words won’t come. My heart is hammering against my rib cage. The solution arrived as I paced the rose garden at sunrise, so obvious it was impossible to see it before. There is one way to keep January, save her family, and end the conflict with Parker, but it will take everything the four of us have. Doc, Bobby, Adriano, and myself. Everything we’ve worked for and fought for since we were teenagers. But when the alternative is January Whitehall dead, raped, or broken into a million pieces, there is no alternative. The others, Bobby and Doc want her too. They’ll have to understand. I inhale. “Option five, the only viable option I can see, is a contract.”
Doc stands so quickly his chair topples back. “A contract? You can’t… A fucking contract?”
Bobby presses his palms over his eyes. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “It’s the only—”
“No.” Doc says. “Never. I’ll go to Vegas and kill him myself. That’s our option. I’ll leave now, I’ll be back by tomorrow.”
“No you won’t,” I say. “I’m sorry, I really am, but we don’t have time to wallow in groundless emotions. Both of you need to listen. Parker is insane, and his resources are almost bottomless. I want him dead, I want him dead more than anything, but revenge is no longer a viable—”
“It is because I’ll kill him.” Doc picks up his chair and slams it back into the ground. “I’ll kill him in Vegas.”
“You’ll be shot through the head as soon as you get on the strip. We almost lost Adriano, I am not losing you, idiota del cazzo. Sit and listen.”
“Fuck you! Fuck you and fuck Adriano. It’s his fault we’re in this shit.”
“Agreed. But here we are. We need to play the hand that’s been laid in front of us.”
Doc tosses his chair into the wall. It crashes to the floor with a splintering crunch. “God fucking damn it!”
Neither Bobby or I move.
“I understand your anger,” I say as calmly as I can, “but breaking things and swearing doesn’t change our situation. We need to come to an agreement.”
Doc shakes his head. “You’re talking about ending everything.”
“I know. But there are four hours and forty-five minutes until Margot Whitehall dies and once that door is closed, it’s closed forever.”
“No,” Doc repeats. “I’m. Killing. Him.”
“Then you’re killing Margot. You don’t have time to get to Vegas. You’ll murder January’s sister and put her in the exact position you were in at her age.”
Doc stalks toward me and I raise my hands, sure he’s going to hit me, but he paces across the room and punches the wall so hard it shakes. When he pulls back, there’s blood on his knuckles. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”
Bobby looks at me and I see the resignation in his eyes. “A contract makes sense. We can still grow our business and—”
“And Parker walks free for what he did,” Doc snarls. “Unaccountable forever.”
For the first time since he stole January, I wish Adriano was here. He’s Doc’s oldest friend. He would know how to calm him, but he’s upstairs so drugged up on pain medication, he can barely speak. It’s up to me to convince Domenico Valente that this is the right choice to make. I get to my feet and approach like he’s a wild animal. Which isn’t far from the truth.
He eyes me. “Parker killed my sister. Let his men put their filthy hands all over her, then ended her life.”
“I know,” I say in a low voice. “It’s shameful, and it’s shameful that I have to ask you to set aside your revenge, but January’s life is at stake.”
Doc turns away, his jaw working furiously.
“I know you loved Alessia…” I say her name delicately, because saying it the wrong way turns Doc rabid, “…but she’s been gone for seventeen years. Almost as long as January’s been alive.”
“So, I should just forget about her?”
I feel like a bomb defuser. Goddamn Parker for not giving me more time to do this. “No, you’ll never forget her. You shouldn’t forget her. But she’s gone and killing Parker isn’t going to bring her comfort.”
“What’s your point?” Doc demands. “What do you want from me?”
I draw a shallow breath. “We’ve built something to live for at Velvet House and whatever happens, you know January is a part of that.”
I place a hand on Doc’s shoulder, and he throws me off. “Who the fuck are you to talk to me about revenge? Bobby, Adri, and I lost family. You lost a fucking dog.”
My hands ball into fists at my sides, but a fight is what Doc wants and I will not let him derail me. “It’s your choice, Domenico. Parker won’t agree to a contract without all four of us signing. Are you going to let Margot Whitehall die?”
He stares at me, his skin stretched tight like a muzzle, and I think of the night Alessia died. How I fought to keep him from taking his stepfather’s handgun, knowing he’d go to Parker’s compound and get himself killed.
Earlier that day, men had snatched Dolce while my sister was walking her through Central Park and broke her neck. Dolce slept on my bed every night I was home. She was a mutt of a Beagle and terrier and until Bobby, she was my only real friend. When my mother would unexpectedly fly off to Italy, when my father would come home drunk and shouting, she was there, soft and friendly and kind. I loved her like I loved nothing else, and Parker’s men killed her and threw her away like a toy.
We cried, Doc and I, after I took the gun from him. The two of us curled up on his bathroom floor and bawled, holding each other and swearing revenge. Parker wasn’t stupid enough to kill a Morelli, but he did kill something I loved. And in doing that he tied me to the other men he harmed. The day Alessia died, Domenico Valente became my brother. My responsibility.
I hold out a hand. “Doc, I’m sorry.”
“You lied to me.”
I know what he means. Seventeen years ago, the only way I could get Doc on a plane to Italy—and to safety—was to promise we’d come back and kill Parker. And now I’m telling him to set that promise aside.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat. “But things have changed. We don’t have a choice.”
Doc heads for the door. “I’m leaving.”
I block his path. “We need a decision.”
“What about Adriano?”
“He’s already agreed to a contract.”
For a second Doc is dumbstruck, but he recovers fast. “He’s cracked out on pain meds!”
“He knew what he was being asked.”
Doc pushes a finger in my face. “He fucked us all over! He started all this!”
“You think I don’t know that? We don’t have time to deal with it, but he’s infatuated with January, and he wants her safe.”
Doc sinks his fists into his hair and pulls. “This cannot be happening.”
Bobby gets to his feet and walks over to a computer monitor. He types briefly then points to the screen. It’s a live feed into January’s room. She’s sitting on the end of her bed in a towel, singing to herself as she combs her long dark hair. Warmth breaks open inside of me, the way I used to feel when Dolce curled up in my lap.
Doc stares at the screen, his blue eyes glassy. What is he seeing? Himself as a teenager? Alessia? Or maybe just an innocent creature we still have a chance to save.
“Doc?” I prompt. “What are you thinking?”
He closes his eyes. “Say, theoretically, we agree to a contract. Who’s gonna draw it up? Who’s gonna enforce it?”
The backs of my knees go weak. Until that moment, I didn’t realize how much I thought he’d walk or how relieved I am he hasn’t.
“John Bianchi,” I say. “He’s the only person with enough power to hold Parker to account if he betrays the contract.”
“And our terms?”
“It’s hard to say,” I begin carefully. “But at its core Parker would be relinquishing his claim to January and we’d agree to set aside our revenge. Call it square.”
“That might not be enough,” Bobby says, tearing his gaze from the monitor. “What about the money Parker spent on January’s stepmother? He’s gonna want compensation.”
“Then I’ll pay it.”
“It’ll be millions!”
“I’ll sell some stock. Some sapphires. We’ll manage.”
Doc stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You’ve already picked a broker, you’re gonna hock your mom’s jewelry, you’re completely sold on this.”
“I don’t want the girl to suffer. Do you?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“I fucking do.” Doc flings a finger at the monitor. “That girl betrayed us, she ran away and had us all thinking she’d been raped and killed. I’m going to take every inch of that disrespect out on her virgin pussy and if you or anyone tries to stop me, I’ll gut them.”
So it’s sexual compensation he wants. To punish January for making him feel things he hasn’t felt since his sister died—if he’s ever felt them at all. That is understandable and something we can work toward. But not now. Now I need to save the girl’s sister and her sanity for all our sakes. “Do you agree to a contract or not?”
Doc looks at the floor. “Do whatever you want.”
“That isn’t going to work, Valente. What’s your answer?”
“Fine. Do it.”
Doc moves to duck past me, but I grip his shoulder. “You mean it? You agree to a contract?”
“Yes! Now get the fuck off me.”
I hold him fast. There’s still another blow to deliver. One last barrier to overcome.
“Parker isn’t going to want to negotiate with us. He’s too angry that January’s gone and too stupid to see the benefits of a contract. We need something to bring him to the table. Something he can’t turn down.”
Doc shoves my hand aside. “Give him whatever you want, I don’t give a shit.”
“You will. I’m going to offer him Orchard.”
Doc’s head draws back. “Oh, is that all you want? Is there anything else you wanna take? My Charger? My nuts? You gonna dig up Alessia and grind her into Parker’s cornflakes?”
“I have no intention of giving Parker the formula,” I say, trying to hold his gaze. “But it’ll bring him to the table and give us leverage to negotiate a cease-fire. There’s no other option.”
Doc looks to the monitor, where January sits combing her hair. His face goes limp and his eyes dull. “I’m going.”
“I’m calling Bianchi,” I tell his back. “If you leave, you’re forfeiting your right to make decisions in the initial negotiation.”
The look Doc gives me is just short of hatred. “What the fuck is left for me to negotiate, Morelli?”
It is time for the truth, unvarnished and uncut. “You love January Whitehall. You will not let her suffer willingly and we all know it. Be a man and accept responsibility for your actions and her future.”
There is a moment, a beat, when Doc’s mouth twitches and for a horrifying second, I think he’s going to burst into tears. Then he storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him.