Hold Him Like Gravity (Lombardi Family #4)

Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

Rico

Our investigation went nowhere.

Sure, we had footage. But the guys had been masked and gloved. So aside from having general body types and an eye color or two, we had nothing else to go on.

The footage from the office had been what had me out of my chair, wanting to hit the streets, and beat someone to death.

Sure, Kick had been pushed around in the front of the store. Had her lip split open. But that was all, you know, part of the robbery. As fucked as that was to think.

But that fucker walked her back into the office under the guise of getting the money from the safe. Only to get her alone to try to assault her.

That shit was hard to watch.

But I wanted to make sure I didn’t miss anything.

And, really, there didn’t seem to be anything.

Until the other guy came in, grabbing the one who was attacking Kick, claiming Kick had hit a silent alarm that didn’t exist.

Sure, maybe the guy just had his conscience kick in and wanted to stop shit before they went any further. But I dunno. Something just didn’t sit right with me about it. I couldn’t put my finger on why, so I had to let it drop.

All the capos had their ears to the ground, but no one was talking about the robbery. It was rare for petty criminals like that not to run their mouths. Something always slipped eventually.

Unless they hadn’t known who they were stealing from and were now lying low in fear of retribution.

All I knew was a week and a half passed with no leads and I found myself dropping into the meat shop even when I didn’t need to be there on the off-chance that Kick would be back early.

Not that I’d given her much incentive to do that when she had ten grand in her hands. Judging by her place, that kind of money could set her up for months.

That didn’t stop me from tensing as I walked up to the shop, wondering if she would be there behind the counter, making sandwiches. Or pushing through the crowd and threatening guys who got too handsy.

“Boss,” Ricky called, making me jerk, realizing I’d been lost in thoughts of Kick walking through the door.

He wasn’t back at a hundred-percent yet either. But he claimed he was suffering at home, that his wife was only feeding him ‘rabbit food,’ and not letting him sleep for more than half an hour at a time without waking him up, despite the doctor telling her that was mostly an old wives’ tale about concussions.

So we all went with the story that he’d fallen and smacked his face. Which wasn’t even much of a lie.

“What’s up?” I asked, rolling a crick out of my neck.

“Got someone here to see you,” he said.

“A customer?” I asked, not sure I was in the mood to deal with someone’s bitching about the price of roast beef or how their ‘thinly-cut’ meat wasn’t thin enough. Or whatever the fuck someone wanted to complain about.

“No. Well, he ordered a sandwich, but no.”

“Alright,” I said, brows pinched as I followed him out.

Only to find my fucking cousin standing on the other side of the counter.

“Bastian?” I asked, taken aback. “The fuck?” I added, going around the counter to grab him and pull him in for a quick hug. “I was supposed to be picking you up.”

“Yeah, well, now you don’t gotta.”

We were only cousins, but the family resemblance was strong with us. Our old men were practically impossible to tell apart. And their genes had been strong.

We were both tall with a slim, but strong frame. Though, with his time away, Bass had clearly been doing more working out than I’ve been.

His dark hair was shaved short and the time away had etched his features a little more sharply. He had dark brown eyes with lashes chicks were always commenting on.

“You got some prison ink, huh?” I asked, pushing his head to the side to inspect the tattoo on his neck that hadn’t been there the last time I’d seen him.

“Gotta do something to kill the time,” Bass said, shrugging.

“Roast beef on rye,” one of the guys called, making Bastian raise his hand.

“That’s on the house,” I said to Ricky, who gave me a nod. “Anything he eats is on the house,” I added.

“Perks to having a cousin in high places,” Bass said, taking the food. “Place is nice.”

“Just finished some renovations. Eat in the back where we can talk.”

“Huh,” Bass said as he followed me into the back.

“What?”

“Just curious if having a fully plastic room with a drain in the floor was part of the decision-making process in buying the meat shop,” he said, shooting me a smirk.

“To be fair, the walls didn’t exist before the renovations,” I told him, getting a little grunt out of him as he took a bite of his sandwich. “How’d you get all the way here?” I asked as we got into the office.

“They give us all a Q100 to get off the island. But I had a nice chain on when I was brought in. Walked around, found a pawn shop, got the cash, and used the cash to get here.”

“Woulda been easier to wait for me to come get you.”

“Been in a cage for years. Felt good to be able to move around. Haven’t been away so long that I forgot how to get around.”

That was fair. Both having shitty home lives, we’d been kicking around Brooklyn and the rest of the boroughs since we were in elementary school.

“So what are your plans for the day? Figure after food and a change of clothes, it likely involves a woman.”

“Gotta admit, it was disappointing as fuck not to see a single one here.”

“We have one. She’s been out for a few weeks.”

“There’s more to that,” Bastian said between bites, his eyes on me.

He’d always been good at picking up on shit even when no one else could.

“About a week and a half ago, we had a robbery.”

“A robbery? Here? You’re shitting me.”

“I know. Couldn’t believe it either. And there’s been no developments about who did it.”

“We lose anyone?” he asked.

“No. Up until then, I kept this place fully legit. But, as you could see out there, my manager got jumped. And our only female employee was knocked around, then dragged back here and almost assaulted. So, she’s been on paid leave since.”

“Don’t want her messed-up face broadcasting to the neighborhood that this place can be robbed.”

“Exactly,” I agreed.

“Shit been that rocky?” he asked.

Sure, some of us had kept money on his books while he was away. And we even went to visit him. But you had to be careful as fuck with what you said to someone through letters or visits. Everything was scanned or recorded. The last thing any of us wanted was for there to be a chance that something got overheard and screwed up Bastian’s chance for release.

So he was in the dark about just about everything that had gone down the past several years, save for tame shit like people getting married, having kids, or starting new business ventures.

“No. Things have been calm. I mean, compared to how shit was when Renzo was first working to take over here. We had some issues with Renzo’s marriage, then some feud involving Cinna. More recently, we had some… negotiations with the Bratva. But in the end, they willingly moved on over to East New York. We haven’t had shit else going on. Save for the usual people not wanting to pay thing.”

“Well, you got me now. If you want to use me here, an added layer of protection, or want me out on the streets doing something, I’m there.”

“Appreciate that. But you deserve a chance to enjoy your freedom for a bit before you get back to work.”

“Oh, I’ll be enjoying all night and half of tomorrow. But after that, I’m anxious to get back out there. Earn my way.”

“I’d be happy to have you here then. But we’ll have to talk to Renzo first. Figure that can wait until tomorrow, though, if you want to go have some fun.”

“Anywhere good to get a drink around here?” Bass asked.

“Yeah, I’ll come with.”

A drink turned to several, some meeting up with others, food, and then a club that I ducked out of as soon as Bastian got himself occupied with some women. I didn’t expect to see him until sometime the next day.

I didn’t realize how close the club was to a certain someone’s place until I found myself looking down her street, wondering how fucking creepy it would be to show up at her door.

Before my rational mind could talk me out of it, though, I was walking up the steps out front. Only to find the fucking front door not only open but the lock busted.

Real safe.

I reached for my phone, shooting off a text to Coal to deal with the lock before going into the elevator to make my way up to Kick’s floor.

Inside, I heard the low chatter of something on the TV, and had a moment where I almost turned around.

But then my hand was lifting and I was knocking on her door.

“It’s Rico,” I called when the TV muted.

“Rico?” she called back, confused, as she made her way to the door, sliding the lock and the chain before opening.

Then there she was.

In a pair of barely-there sleep shorts in yellow and pink stripes and an old, worn, soft from too many washings white tee that she clearly didn’t have anything on underneath.

“I was… just checking in,” I said, forcing my gaze to stay on her face even if I was dying to let my eyes wander.

She looked better.

The bruise was practically nonexistent on her cheek and the split on her lip had become more of a light pink scar that you probably wouldn’t even notice if you didn’t know to look for it.

“Oh, that’s… nice,” she said, sounding a little distracted.

Just then, her cat came striding down the hall, flicking his tail in the air, then making a beeline for me, slamming his body against my legs and rubbing against me. He weaved through my legs, letting out little satisfied purrs as he, essentially, used me as a rubbing post.

“You traitor,” she said to the cat, narrowing her eyes at him. “Meanwhile, this is what I get for trying to pet you,” she said, showing me her arm with some fresh red scratches. “You want to come in?” she asked, taking a step back.

“Sure,” I agreed, leaning down to pick up the cat so I could move inside and close the door.

My gaze slid to the coffee table where there was a bunch of shit spread across it. Including a map. One of those ones that fold out that tourists buy.

“Oh, sorry about the mess,” Kick said, rushing forward to quickly fold it all together. But not before I saw a bunch of Xs all over the map. It was gone, though, before I could figure out what area it was a map of, let alone what the Xs might be crossing out. “I’ll just… be right back,” she said, clutching the papers to her chest before turning and rushing down the hallway.

“That was weird as fuck, right?” I asked the cat that was staring up at me.

“Okay. Ah, coffee?” she asked as she came back, seeming no less flustered, her aura all bouncy and awkward.

“Sure,” I agreed, moving toward the kitchen with her. “How you feeling?” I asked.

“I’m okay,” she said. “I was coming back this week,” she added. “I promise.”

“I don’t care about that,” I told her. “I was just in the area and figured I’d make sure you’re doing alright.”

“I wasn’t even that hurt,” she said, shaking her head at my concern.

“Didn’t just mean physically.”

“Oh, well, yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

She wasn’t, though.

There were bags and dark circles under her eyes like she hadn’t been sleeping. She was jumpy. Then there was whatever that was with the maps and papers she clearly didn’t want me to see.

Something was up with her.

I just had no fucking idea what it was.