Cruel Betrayals (Savannah Sharks Hockey and Mafia #3)

Chapter 2

Chapter Two

JOSEPH

Blood can’t actually boil in your veins, but I’m pretty sure my blood is damn close to it. My foul mood is still lingering days later, even though I’ve hit the gym for two hours.

I’m sweaty, my muscles are sore, and I’m pissed and ready to take it out on anyone that dares to cross me, starting with the guy downstairs in the interrogation room.

I’m pissed at the family I was born into.

I’m pissed at Alexandra.

Most of all, I’m pissed at myself.

Why couldn’t I tell her the truth? Why couldn’t I just man up and agree to take her out on dates?

I shouldn’t have strung her along as long as I have, but I can’t promise her a happy future. I can’t promise to keep her safe. Just look at Francesca and Savannah.

Alexandra deserves a safe and stable life, not one filled with danger and crime. She deserves to be treated like a queen and shown off.

I can’t give her the life she deserves.

It’s more like I can’t, and I won’t.

I let out a sigh and jog down the flight of stairs to the basement. It’s quiet and dark. Everyone else is out enjoying their lives and their girlfriends while I’m here alone, trying to deal with my pent up anger.

I’m turning into my father more and more by the day, and not in a good way.

I stretch my neck from side to side and crack my knuckles before heading inside the interrogation room.

It’s dark and quiet except for the small red light hanging from the ceiling beams. It illuminates the man sitting on the metal chair.

The air is stale and musty in here and reeks of piss and shit, no doubt from the prisoner soiling himself.

Rhett came in earlier and tied him to the chair and gagged him. The man’s head is slumped forward with his chin resting on his chest.

I rip the gag out of his mouth and take a few steps back to keep my distance. Men like him are prone to spit, and if he spits on me, I know I’ll kill him.

There’s nothing more disrespectful than spitting at someone.

I can’t ruin my family’s chance of getting dirt on Rossi by letting my anger get the best of me. Not right now.

Pulling out my pocket knife, I gently run the blade over my fingers. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. If I were you, I’d choose the easy way. The other way is going to be extremely painful and drawn out.”

The man doesn’t bother looking up. He’s bruised, beaten, and exhausted, like he’s been through an interrogation already.

Did we do this to him? Or perhaps the Reapers got to him first.

“What is your name?” I growl out.

He doesn’t speak.

I stalk over to him and wrap my fingers in the back of his hair and yank his head back until he’s looking at me. I press the knife blade against his throat.

There is a hint of fear in his eyes, but it’s mostly a haunted, dead look. It’s almost as if he’s wishing for death, but why?

“Tell me your name!” I yell. Standing over him, I watch his expression change from fear to shock to anger.

I remove the blade from his throat and run it down his forearm, pressing the tip into his skin with enough force to draw a small amount of blood.

“John Smith.” He croaks out.

“Like the Englishman?”

He nods and gulps.

Rossi chose a man named John Smith to work with? That is the most common and generic name ever to exist.

I let go of his hair, and his head slumps forward.

“What is Rossi up to? What is his plan of attack? How is he going to get revenge on my family?”

I bark out question after question, to which the man shakes his head over and over again.

“Answer me!” I yell as I dig the knife into his other arm.

He flinches and his voice cracks. “I don’t know anything. I swear. I have no reason to lie to you.”

Turning away from him, I take a few steps back again. “How can you not know anything? Rossi doesn’t keep his plans to himself.”

Unless he just started keeping future plans to himself and his right-hand man. Maybe this guy is being honest, and he really doesn’t know. He does seem to be low on the hierarchy.

“What do you do for Rossi?” I put my knife up.

“I gather information for him.”

I spin around and level a glance at him. “What kind of information?”

He takes a deep breath but doesn’t answer. I put my knife up and stalk back over to him. I yank his head up, ball my hand into a fist, and swing. I land my punch right on his jaw.

Blood spurts all over my hand.

He groans in pain but doesn’t answer my question.

“Do you really want to do this the hard way? I will get the answers out of you one way or another.”

“He usually sends me out to get random pieces of information. It’s never consistent and never jaw-dropping.”

That doesn’t sound like Rossi.

Is John lying to appease me?

“What was the last thing he had you do?”

“He had me count the number of houses on his street.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I just did what he asked.”

“How many houses were there?”

He looks at me with wide eyes. I’m even surprised to hear myself asking this.

“Thirteen.”

“What did he ask you to do before that?”

“Count the number of parking spaces at random businesses all around town.”

Was Rossi just seeing if John was loyal to him? This seems almost like an initiation, albeit different from the Marino initiation.

“And before that?”

There has to be something worth noting here.

“He told me to take pictures of different places around town.”

I give him a pointed look to explain, and he continues.

“I had to climb to the Tybee Island Lighthouse, face north toward South Carolina, and take photos of the water. I had to go to two different ports and take pictures of their loading docks. There was also a new club being built that I had to take pictures of during the framing stage.”

He takes a deep breath. “None of this made sense. It was like he was sending me on a wild goose chase, but secretly they already captured the goose.”

The lighthouse doesn’t make any sense. What could he want with the dual state waters?

The ports could be my family owned port and the east port they switched our cargo order to.

I have no doubt the new club Rossi had John photograph is ours. The same one that is re-opening soon.

Why does Rossi want pictures of the framing? The blueprints are public knowledge. All he’d have to do is make a trip downtown and request a copy.

“Is there anything else Rossi had you do? Big or small?”

“Well, I-” He glances down at the ground and stops mid-sentence.

“You what?”

“I had to get addresses and photographs of three women. I had to show him where they go during the day, where they live, what cars they drive, and any friends they have. They all seem like loners. They never hung out with friends. They seem to live quiet, peaceful lives.”

My heart pounds in my chest, and I yell out, “Who? What women? What are their names?”

I swear to God, I will rain pain and destruction on the entire Rossi organization if John names Francesca, Savannah, or Alexandra.

John looks at me, eyes wide and lip trembling. “Savannah Whitlock, Alexandra Ferguson, and Avery Brown.”

Damn it. This isn’t good. He’s going after our women. I’ll die before I let them touch a hair on Alexandra’s head.

My vision blurs as I unleash all my anger on John. Unbeknownst to him, he just handed Rossi the gun to take us out. If there’s something I know about the guys, it’s that they will do anything to protect their women.

Even sacrifice themselves.

After several minutes, my knuckles scream in pain. I turn around and leave the room. Rhett or Spencer can come in, untie him, and bandage him up.

I have to inform Dad about what I just found out.

Running up the stairs, I quickly shower and change into proper mafia attire. My suit is fitted and wrinkle free, my shoes are shined, and my knuckles show that I’m not afraid of getting the job done.

I hop into my car and race to the arena for the weekly meeting with Dad and Alexandra.

I park in the empty parking spot next to Dad and make my way inside the arena and up the stairs to the conference room.

Dad is sitting at the head of the table, talking on the phone with a supplier.

Alexandra ignores me as she brings Dad a cup of coffee. I walk over to the coffeemaker and pour myself a cup. I add a splash of non-dairy French vanilla creamer and take my seat at the opposite end of the long table.

I guess I do deserve the cold shoulder, but I’m not going to stop caring about her.

While waiting for Dad to get off the phone, I send Rhett and Spencer a group message.

Will you two be around in half an hour?

Spencer immediately responds.

I’m downstairs in the gym. What’s up?

Not waiting for Rhett to reply, I respond to Spencer.

I need to talk to you two after my meeting with Dad.

Spencer’s reply is everything that I expect it to be.

Is everything alright? I can come upstairs now if it will make things easier.

Having Rhett and Spencer here will help keep me from repeating everything that is discussed during the meeting.

Yeah, get Rhett, and come join us in ten minutes.

The conference door opens and Francesca steps inside, joining the meeting.

“What are you doing here?”

If she’s here, then where is Rhett? The two of them are practically attached at the hip.

She plops down in the chair to the left of Dad. “Uh, attending the meeting because I’m part of the family and want more responsibilities. My opinion matters, too, you know.”

I shake my head and apologize. “I’m sorry. That didn’t come out how I intended it to. I was trying to get in touch with Rhett to have him come up here for the meeting and assumed the two of you were together.”

“We were, but he was heading downstairs to find Spencer. Why do you need him here for the meeting?”

“There are some things I need to discuss, and it will be easier if Rhett and Spencer are here to hear as well.”

“What’s going on?”

Dad ends the call and offers Francesca a smile. “Glad to have you join us this morning.”

“Joey was just telling me he invited Rhett and Spencer to the meeting.”

Dad quirks his eyebrow. “Is that so?”

Alexandra sits down in the chair opposite of Francesca, briefly distracting me.

I clear my throat and keep my gaze off her. “I told them to come up here in ten minutes. That way, we have a chance to go over whatever is on your agenda first.”

Dad nods. “The only thing on my agenda is to check in with Alexandra regarding the grand opening of the club.”

She sits up straighter in her chair. “Everything is finalized. The caterers and reporters have confirmed their end of things. All we have to do is re-employ the dancers and bartenders.”

Dad grabs his notebook and makes a note for himself. “I’ll handle that this afternoon.”

A knock sounds on the conference room door. Looking over, I see Rhett and Spencer standing there waiting. I wave them in.

“Sorry to interrupt.” Spencer says as he walks around the table to sit next to Alexandra while Rhett sits next to Francesca.

“You’re right on time. Joseph was just about to catch us up to date on what’s going on.”

Everyone glances my way, waiting for me to spill the secrets.

“I interrogated the guy in our custody. His name is John Smith, and he works for Giuseppe Rossi and has had to go on seemingly random scavenger hunts.”

Several snickers echo throughout the conference room at his name.

“He had to count how many houses were on the same street as the Rossi estate, count the parking spaces at businesses around town, take pictures at the top of the Tybee Island Lighthouse, take pictures of a couple of ports, and-”

Dad interrupts me. “Why the hell does Rossi need to know these things?”

“I can only assume it’s John’s initiation to prove that he’s loyal to the Rossi family.”

Dad frowns. “That doesn’t seem dire enough to call Rhett and Spencer in.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Of course, Dad jumps straight to the wrong conclusion. “That’s not all I found out.”

I chance a glance at Francesca, then Alexandra.

“John had to take pictures of the club while it was being framed, and he had to get information on Savannah, Alexandra, and Avery.”

Spencer jumps out of his seat and slams his hands down on the desk. “What kind of information?”

If he wasn’t dating Savannah, I’d yell at him about decorum, but I know he’s worried about her.

“He had to get their addresses, their car make and model, and who they hang out with.”

My gaze moves to Alexandra, who is fear-stricken and panting, and I instantly regret openly telling them about the information I discovered.

Francesca whispers, “What can we do?”

“I’ve been brainstorming. Savannah is practically living with Spencer, so she’s protected most of the time, but we can hire extra security to follow her around. Avery has her father, but she’s probably left alone a lot, so she would benefit from having her own security detail.”

My gaze meets Alexandra’s.

“Alexandra is here most of the time, but I think if we have a couple of extra apartments, we can have Avery move into one and Alexandra move in another. There’s security there all the time. Players live there and can keep an eye on them. Francesca is there when we have away games.”

This makes the most sense for the time being.

Francesca perks up. “My apartment is completely furnished and clean, so Alexandra can have mine.”

Alexandra shakes her head and glares at me. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m fine in my apartment. It’s safe and secure, and every building can only be accessed by a keycard.”

I clench my jaw before saying, “You can move into the apartment with the team or the guesthouse. Your choice.”

No one speaks as the two of us stare at one another.

She doesn’t want to start her shit with me today because I will get my way, and my way will be to have her close to me.

I imagine sneaking into the guesthouse at night. Having her so close will be a blessing and a curse.

She will still want more from me, but being so close will give us a chance to grow closer to one another.

Maybe then I’ll be able to move past my issues.

Her voice drags me from my thoughts. “What about my lease? I can’t afford to break the contract.”

Is she going to fight me every step of the way?

“We’ll pay the fees to terminate your lease. Your safety is more important than a couple thousand dollars.”

She crosses her arms and narrows her eyes at me. “Fine. I’ll move into Francesca’s old apartment, but I’m not moving until this weekend.”