Cruel Betrayals (Savannah Sharks Hockey and Mafia #3)

Chapter 3

Chapter Three

ALEXANDRA

Rushing around to finish up work, I grab the last receipt off my desk and make a beeline to the scanner. I quickly close the lid, pinching my pinky finger in the process.

“Shit!” I yank my hand back, grabbing my hurt finger.

This is what I get for rushing and trying to leave work before lunch on a Friday morning.

My computer chimes with an instant message. I finish scanning the last receipt, put it in the correct folder, and close the filing cabinet.

I plop down in my office chair and move my mouse to wake up my computer to see who the message is from. Arturo is in a meeting with Alvin Brown at a secret location and Joseph is with the team, traveling to Florida for an away game.

Francesca’s name pops up as she sends me another message.

Can you help me finalize something?

It’s an outing for the team, but Dad will be there, too, so I could use your advice on security.

I stare at her messages for a few moments before replying.

Is a team outing wise with everything going on?

John Smith, one of Giuseppe Rossi’s men, specifically named me as one of the targets Giuseppe Rossi is coming after.

While I wait for her reply, I close my blinds and turn off my essential oil diffuser. The chime on the computer sounds again.

We can’t show the public that we are afraid. We have to keep up appearances. They can’t know we are dealing with outside threats.

I mentally roll my eyes. Of course, she would be more concerned about the public’s opinions rather than keeping her and her family safe.

That’s one of the few things I agree with Joseph on. Francesca is na?ve and doesn’t really think about the consequences until they are right in her face, but at least she is trying to think about security beforehand.

Whether the public is supposed to know or not, they are going to see the increased security and wonder what’s going on.

If they listen to the news, they will already know that someone burnt the club down. They will already be aware of the connection with Arturo, but I’ll come to your office.

I exit out of messenger and turn off my computer. If Francesca sends a reply, I won’t get it. I grab my stuff and head down the long hallway to Francesca’s office.

There’s soft music floating through the open door.

“Hey.” I say as I sit in one of the chairs nestled in the corner of her office.

She glances at me before returning her gaze back to her computer screen. “I just need to finish replying to this email and then we can put our heads together.”

Her fingers tap against the keys at lightning speed for a few minutes. “There. All done.”

“So, what do you have in mind for the team outing?”

She picks up a folder and hands it to me. It’s full of ideas for outdoor events with the community.

“What if we combined some of these ideas? We can do a meet the player type event and a charity event.”

I continue reading her ideas when an idea pops into my mind.

“What if we host a skate with a player day where fans can buy tickets to come skate with their favorite player for a certain amount of time? It will be inside the arena so more secure than an outside event, and we have cameras everywhere.”

Francesca nods slowly while mulling over my idea.

I continue to speak my thoughts. “What if we host an auction and all proceeds go to the children’s hospital? We will need to get a bunch of raffle tickets, though. We can have the auction set for a couple of days before the event and draw tickets live.”

Francesca grins. “That’s a great idea. We can set it up so fans can buy tickets online or here at the arena in person.”

“What can we auction off? When were you wanting this event to take place?”

The charity auction will bring good publicity as well as keep Arturo in the public eye. Surely, the Reapers and Giuseppe Rossi won’t do anything stupid with the team in the spotlight.

“Next Saturday, and we can auction off signed pucks. Fans love getting autographs.”

My eyes almost bulge out of my skull. “Next Saturday. As in eight days?”

Is she seriously thinking we can get extra security in place for an event happening in a week?

She nods. “Yeah, next weekend.”

“Isn’t that too soon to get the word out and get people to show up?”

“Not at all. I’ve already talked to the team’s reporters and put the word out on social media. The fans are eagerly waiting for the official announcement on what will be auctioned off, so it has to be something great.”

This might be doable. Plus, she will be the one organizing it, not me.

“What if we auctioned off a date with the players? It’s during the break, so the guys won’t have practice or games. The second highest bidder can get a bag filled with team merchandise and something signed by that player, and we can still raffle off signed pucks for those that can’t afford the bids on the date.”

She scrunches up her face. “That all sounds great, but is a date a good idea? That can get out of hand and reeks of the potential for bad publicity and allegations. I do think the fans will go crazy for a chance to spend time with their favorite player.”

“I didn’t think of that. What if the so-called date happens here in the arena? We can get catering from a local restaurant and then the players and the highest bidder can eat a nice, safe meal where everyone is protected.”

Francesca’s face lights up. “Yes! I love that. Okay, so we will have raffle tickets for a random signed puck. Fans can buy them online or in person. Saturday night, we can choose like ten or twenty winners.”

“I think that’s a great idea. With twenty winners, more people will feel like they actually have a chance to win a puck.”

Francesca leans forward, resting her elbows on her desk. “Exactly. Saturday morning, we will have the skate with a player event where fans can buy tickets online to skate. Let’s say, uh, fifteen minutes with a player. They can arrive early to get rental skates.”

“That would be great because then they will be ready when it’s their time and won’t spend half their time putting on skates. We will have to make sure they are wearing appropriate attire.”

She jots down our ideas. “And then after the skate event, fans can fill the stands for the live raffle for the signed pucks.”

“Will you be announcing the auction winners after the raffle? How will they know when the date with a player will be?”

It would be nice to win a date with Joseph, but I don’t want everyone to know if I bid on him.

“I don’t think we should broadcast the winners live because they will be spending a lot of money. We can send the winner an email that they’ve won and the time and place of the dinner. It will probably be a couple of weeks to a month later when the guys have a string of at home games.”

Moving onto the reason she wanted me in here, I say, “We can use the normal security and local police we would for a home game. They are familiar with the arena and the crowds and will probably appreciate the extra money.”

“That’s perfect. To the fans, it won’t seem abnormal or excessive because security is here every game.”

“Great, so I guess I should leave you to plan these events. I’m going home to finish packing.”

I haven’t started packing yet. I don’t own that much, so I waited until the last possible minute. Plus, I was hoping things would settle down and I could keep my apartment, but all week, Joseph and Arturo kept asking how packing was going.

Francesca digs inside her purse and hands me the other key to her apartment that was in Rhett’s apartment. “Do you need help? I can work on this from home later and come help you pack.”

“Thanks, but it’s not necessary. There isn’t a lot to pack since the furniture is staying. I’ll be done in no more than fifteen minutes.”

She gives me a worried glance. “If you’re sure. My apartment is on the second floor. I decorated the door for you, so it’s not hard to miss.”

“Thank you.”

We say our goodbyes and I head downstairs to grab a couple of empty boxes before heading to my car.

Six boxes should be enough for all of my stuff.

Traffic is much lighter than normal, so it only takes a few minutes to get to my apartment.

I park in my assigned parking spot, grab the boxes from the backseat, and make my way to my bottom floor apartment.

I’ve never been happier to live on the first floor than I am right now. At least carrying the full boxes to my car will be effortless.

Grabbing two of the boxes, I head straight to my closet. I fill one box with my dressy, professional attire and fill the other box with the rest of my clothes. Grabbing a trash bag, I throw my four pairs of shoes inside and place the bag in the second box.

I should be surprised that all of my clothes fit in these two boxes, but I’m not.

I moved to Savannah with just a backpack. I was living on the streets until I got the job with Arturo. It took me three months to get this apartment and a year to buy a car outright.

For the past year, I’ve been saving as much as I can in case I need to run away and start over again.

I carry the two boxes to the living room before returning to the bedroom. I grab all of my personal items from my end table and throw them in my purse.

My bathroom items take up less than half of the box. I add my cleaning supplies and the few pictures I have from my childhood.

I sit on the couch as I stare at the na?ve, young girl in the photograph. She’s smiling and having the best day of her life.

Little did she know that in just two brief hours, her life would turn into a living nightmare.

The house she grew up in would become a distant memory. Her bed, toys, and friends would be a thing of the past.

She would learn about the horrible world of drug and gambling addiction and how it affects everyone around the troubled person.

She would see her father lose all control and give into his anger. She would become helpless to protect herself.

My vision blurs as tears sting my eyes. I haven’t been helpless for a long time. I’m stronger now and independent. No one will ever make me feel that way again.

No one.

I swipe my tears away and place the picture in a box before packing the rest of my stuff. I have bigger issues to deal with. There’s no time to reminisce about my tortured past.

My father won’t ever see me again. No one knows about my past, and my future is hopeful.

For the most part.

When my apartment is void of all my belongings, I carry the boxes to my car. The bigger clothes boxes fit in my trunk with the cleaning box, and the other three boxes fit in the back seat.

I run back inside to grab my clothes hamper and my pillow and place them in the front seat.

Large hands wrap around my arms and a deep male voice says, “Don’t move and no one will get hurt.”

I gasp. “I don’t have any money and have very few belongings.”

“Shut up, bitch.”

“Please, just let me go.”

Another man cackles. “It’s cute when they beg. It’s even better when they beg on their knees when my cock is in their mouth.”

The man behind me chuckles.

I spin around, catching him off guard. I punch him in the stomach. He grunts in pain and hunches over, giving me an opportunity to punch him in his nose.

“Fucking Bitch. You’ll pay for this.”

Ripping his grip off my arms, I run around the car and reach for my door handle.

If I can get in my car, I can get away from him.

The other man anticipates my move. He stalks over to me and wraps his arms around me in a bear hug.

I try to throw my head back to headbutt him, but he pushes me into my car door. The door handle jams into my hip. I have to bite back the urge to scream out in pain.

His hand threads through the back of my hair a second before he yanks on it. My head snaps back, forcing me to stare up at the sky.

“Stop fucking fighting, or I’ll shoot you. The boss may want you alive, but you’re not worth the trouble.”

I ignore his warning and fight back.

I’m not going down without a fight and if his boss wants me, then he’s going to have to earn it.

I lift up my leg and push back with all my strength.

“Son of a bitch.” He grunts as I kick him in his knee.

He lets go of me with one arm a second before something hits me in the back of my head.

My vision goes black as I’m knocked out.

I guess I’m going to meet their boss.