Hold Him Like Gravity (Lombardi Family #4)

Chapter Ten

CHAPTER TEN

Kick

Rico and I sort of just… didn’t happen to interact when I returned to work the next day. Or the days following that.

It wasn’t exactly, you know, unusual. There were many days when Rico either only dropped in for a few minutes, or didn’t show up at all. The place practically ran itself. There was no reason for him to micromanage it.

I wouldn’t lie and say some part of me wasn’t disappointed, though. Even if the logical part of my brain was constantly reminding me that the last thing I needed right now was a complicated fling with my boss.

Jake was still missing.

And I’d taken to hauling my ass to and from the Bronx every night after work, hanging out in dark alleys or the backs of seedy bars, trying to avoid the attention of anyone around while I attempted to spy on the local organizations I’d narrowed my search down to.

So far, I’d knocked two names off my list. One, because I overheard them boasting about breaking into houses and how it was safer than trying to hold up businesses.

The other, because I’d managed to happen upon some kind of meeting that involved the whole crew.

Jake wasn’t with them.

I had no emails from Bobby.

When I called Jake’s phone again myself, it was still deactivated.

I tried to keep the panic at bay, reminding myself that I’d seen him with my own two eyes. That he’d been alive and, seemingly, well. That he hadn’t tried to get any sort of message to me when we’d been in the meat shop to make me believe he was under duress.

I just… couldn’t shake it.

Something wasn’t right, wasn’t adding up.

Yeah, Jake was a fuck-up. Yes, he was notorious for getting himself involved in any number of shady crews. Even doing shit like hold-ups.

But… something was off about that robbery.

About how, I don’t know, he was trying to keep my identity a secret? Why would he do that? Jake had never, ever, in our entire lives, tried to protect me.

That was, you know, part of the reason I’d gone no-contact with him, after all.

“Babe, the fuck you doing?” a deep, masculine voice asked, making me jerk and let out a choked gasp as I looked over to find the source of the question.

He was standing maybe a yard away, a tall, fit guy in an expensive-looking suit with dark, slicked back hair, and chocolate-brown eyes. Everything about him oozed power and intimidation, making me worry that I’d somehow stumbled into a more important criminal kingpin’s territory without realizing it.

“Nothing,” I squeaked, my hand slipping into my pocket to close around the pocketknife I’d brought along just in case I got into any sort of trouble.

“Nothing, huh?” he asked, glancing across the street, then back at me, half-hidden in a small alley between a Chinese food restaurant and a bodega. Even with the weather cold, the stink of rotting food in the trash had been making me take small breaths to fight off the inevitable nausea.

Now, though, my heartbeat had tripped into overdrive and my breath was coming fast and shallow.

“Then why the fuck you been hiding in an alley for two nights in a row?” he asked, making my stomach twist. If he’d seen me, what were the chances that the guys I was watching had as well?

My mind went blank as he waited for an answer. And I was pretty sure I could blame his whole tall, dark, and deadly vibe for that.

“Look, if you’re planning something, I’m gonna go and advise you against it,” he said. “This is my area. And while I don’t like having to find ways to punish women for starting shit, I won’t hesitate to do it, either.”

“I’m not… planning anything,” I insisted. I wasn’t. Right?

I mean, I hadn’t really given it much thought past ‘Find Jake.’

What happened when I found him was up in the air. Beating his ass had come to mind a time or two. Though, if he was in some sort of trouble like my gut was saying, if he was with these guys against this will or something, I had no idea what to do about that. Call the police?

The man was still standing there, unconvinced, watching me with expectant eyes.

“I’m looking for my brother,” I admitted. “He’s… been missing for a while.”

To that, I didn’t actually see any softness from the man, just a nod. “Look, the addicts usually shoot up two blocks that way,” he said, nodding his chin down the block. “And the ones who are living on the street? They’re closer down by the church. They get free hot meals there. And on the cold nights coming up, the church will let ‘em sleep inside. Look for him there. Don’t be hanging out around here,” he told me before moving off.

He slowed half a block away, stopping to talk to a few other guys who were equally as well-dressed as he was. I sensed he wasn’t going to go anywhere until he knew I was gone.

I moved out of the alley, ducking my head against the wind that had been whipping all night, and made my way toward the subway steps.

My fingers had gone numb hours before and as I waited on the platform, I pressed them up under my shirt, hissing at the coldness as I rested them against my stomach to warm them up. They burned as life came back to them, and the pain helped to fight back the panic I’d felt at being confronted by some random criminal boss in the street.

I wondered if maybe I should have taken him up on the information he’d provided, gone and checked out the church and the area where the addicts used to get high.

No, drugs had never been Jake’s problem. But that didn’t mean it couldn’t have happened. Every single day, someone became addicted to a substance they’d never touched before.

And I could see how, if Jake had gotten hooked on something, he might have let everything else in his life slip away. Even gotten involved with a new crew for some quick cash to chase that high.

That niggled at me, though, on the ride back to Brooklyn.

Because if he was desperate for a fix, why wouldn’t he go to his old apartment? Take and hock his gaming systems? His old TV? Collectibles? Even hit up the too giving and often gullible Bobby for cash?

It didn’t fit.

And he had no reason to sleep in a church when he still had a room at Bobby’s apartment.

It didn’t fit.

The thing was, neither did anything else.

If he was okay, and he’d just hooked up with a new crew to make money—because heaven fucking forbid he have to go out and get an actual job for once—why would his phone be off? Why was he no-contact with Bobby, who he’d been friends with forever?

I was dead on my feet when I dragged myself down the hallway toward my apartment.

I sighed when I heard something falling to the ground inside.

I’d locked in Evander when I’d stopped in to feed him and change after work, not wanting him shrieking on the fire escape all night if I wasn’t around to let him in. Clearly, he was protesting by knocking shit off of my counters and tables.

Luckily, I didn’t exactly have much by way of possessions, so he couldn’t have done too much damage.

It wasn’t until I was already in the apartment with the door closed behind me that I realized something was off.

It was dark.

Pitch-black dark inside of my apartment.

I’d not only left the light on in the living room and the bathroom where his litter box was located, but I’d also left the TV on so he had some noise in case he started to throw a fit about being trapped inside.

Sure, there was a chance that the TV had glitched while streaming and gone back to the home screen. And, yeah, lightbulbs went out.

But not all at once.

My hand shot backward, trying to find the knob in the dark, wanting to just quietly make my way back out. To go where, I had no idea. But I wasn’t about to walk further into an apartment until I had some light. And maybe something heavy to knock someone on the head with.

My hand overshot the knob, though, knocking into it, making a sound that seemed like a thunderclap in the silent apartment.

My heartbeat pounded harder and sweat was beading up in my hairline as I grabbed the knob.

It was right then that the light flicked on.

The one that was attached to the light switch just two feet away from me.

Then there he was.

Towering over me.

With hauntingly familiar piercing blue eyes.

The last time I’d seen them, they’d been leering at me through the hole slits of a ski mask. As he tried to hold me down and remove my pants.

A little whimper escaped me before I could fight it back.

“That’s probably an appropriate reaction,” he said with an evil little smirk as he raised his hand a little higher, showing me the gun he was holding.

I hated that he was attractive.

There should be some genetic rule that your internal ugliness had to be displayed on the outside, so everyone knew who to steer clear of.

But there he was.

Tall, classically handsome with his cut-glass jaw, his rugged bone structure, his blue eyes, and his carelessly tousled brown hair.

“What do you want?” I asked, frustrated with the shakiness in my voice.

I needed to calm down.

This wasn’t the empty meat shop, flanked on either side with other businesses that had shut down for the night.

This was an apartment building filled with people. Most of them home on a weekday night. I could even hear the muffled conversation from the family on the floor above mine.

True, this was the city full of people who minded their own business. I mean, I didn’t call the cops when I heard nasty-ass, top-of-the-lungs fights from couples in the building. That said, there was a difference between a couple of drunks getting pissy and screaming at each other and someone being assaulted.

Someone would call the cops.

I wasn’t going to be raped and murdered in my own apartment, damnit.

Besides, I was right by the door.

If I could just distract him for a second, throw my purse at him or something, I could rip the door open, rush outside, and run for my life.

“Walk over to the couch,” he demanded, like he’d been reading my mind. “Move,” he snarled, pressing the muzzle of the gun against my temple.

With the gun against my skin, the chance of him accidentally—or purposely—firing were too high if I tried to run.

Swallowing back the cry that was building in my throat, I stepped forward, making my way over toward the living room.

It was only then that I realized that the sound of something being knocked over hadn’t been Evander at all. This guy had tossed my whole apartment.

Looking for what?

One glance around and anyone could see that I didn’t have anything worth stealing. The most expensive thing I owned was the TV. And even that was pretty low-end in the grand scheme of things.

The money , I realized as the gun shifted, pressing hard into the center of my forehead, a silent demand to lower down.

My stomach twisted as my ass dropped onto the couch cushion. There was nothing within reach that I could use to defend myself.

All I had was the pocketknife in my purse.

If I moved slowly when he wasn’t looking down, I could slip my hand inside, grab it, and try to hide it in my palm or under my thigh until I found an opportunity to use it.

Again, reading my mind, he reached out with his free hand, grabbing my purse. He yanked hard, making the straps pull me forward as they dug into my shoulder, which pressed the gun even more firmly against my forehead.

He made a grumbling sound, finally pulling my purse off, then simply tossing it across the room. It hit the wall with a quiet thud before falling on its side, the contents spilling out.

My phone that I could have used to call for help.

The pocketknife that was my only hope at self-defense.

His gaze followed mine. And when he looked back, that nasty smirk was tugging at his lips again.

“There goes that plan, huh?” he asked.

“What do you want?” I asked, proud of how strong my voice sounded, despite the way my insides felt like they were vibrating.

“Oh, a lot of things,” he said, his gaze moving over me. Despite wearing several layers to fend off the cold as I looked for Jake, I felt suddenly naked, like he was seeing me bared to him, like he was thinking of all the ways he wanted to use me for his own sick pleasure. “But first, we are going to start with the big one.”

“The big one?” I asked as he took a few steps away, the gun no longer raised, but still heavy in his hand.

“I have a job for you," he said, then waited, wanting me to ask. He was enjoying this. Getting off on my powerlessness. Knowing that my only choice here was to placate him.

“I already have a job,” I said, lifting my chin a bit, not wanting him to see my fear. Even if it had turned my blood to ice in my veins, chilling me from the inside out.

“Yes, that’s what makes my job for you work,” he said.

“Are you going to get to the point sometime soon? Or should I put on a pot of coffee while I wait?” I asked, fear making me angry.

To that, he snorted. “I heard you were a piece of work,” he said, making my spine straighten.

Who had he heard that from?

Jake?

Was this asshole Jake’s boss?

If so, why would Jake save me from him only to sic him on me a few weeks later?

He was waiting for me to ask, but when I just stared up at him, trying to make my expression as bored as I could possibly muster, his jaw got tight, irritated that I wasn’t whimpering, crying, begging.

I’d be damned if he got that out of me.

“You are going to get me some money. Actually, you’re going to get me a lot of money.”

“I don’t have money. Have you looked around?” I asked, waving at my apartment as a whole.

“No, you don’t have shit,” he agreed. “But you have access to money. A fuckton of money.”

“No, I—“ I started, but then it hit me what he was saying.

He wanted me to steal from the meat shop.

“There it is. Thought you were supposed to be smart,” he added, again making me wonder who the hell he was getting his information from.

Compared to Jake, yes, I was, objectively, smart. But Jake never would have called me smart. He never wanted to give anyone their props, thinking it would take away from his own positive attributes. As few and far between as they were.

So who was this guy’s source?

It’s not like I had a lot of close friends. Or, you know, any friends. And Jake was the only family I had.

“You are going to take money from your job.”

“Why?” I asked, squinting at him. “You already robbed the place. There’s not that much money there,” I said, thinking of the cash drawer.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he said. “Your boss has money there. A lot of fucking money there. And you’re gonna get it for me.”

“I don’t have access to the safe,” I said. “I wouldn’t even know how to try to get the code for it.”

I didn’t know a lot about safes. Every job I’d ever worked had them, of course. You always needed access to more cash and coins to fill the register when it got too full of large bills, making it impossible to make change.

But on the off-chance that I was working alone at night when I ran out of the proper change, I would need to call my boss to come in and go into the safe for me. I’d never had direct contact with one before.

I knew where Rico’s was, of course, now that he’d moved it from under the display case and into his office. It was tucked under the desk.

But it was kind of… small.

I mean, those things had thick walls to make them fire safe. So the space inside couldn’t fit more than maybe, I don’t know, fifty grand?

I guess, though, fifty grand was a lot of money.

It would be life-changing money to me for sure.

Who was to say it wasn’t the same for this guy.

He’d been willing to rob a store just for the couple grand he got out of the cash drawer, after all.

“There’s not that much money in there, I don’t think,” I said, feeling like I needed to forewarn him, in case he was thinking this would be some half a million dollar score.

“I’m not talking about the safe,” he said. “This is a long-term plan. Little bits over time.”

“I can’t do it,” I said, stomach twisting at the idea of betraying Rico like that.

No, it wasn’t like he was my best friend or boyfriend or anything like that. But the man had been nothing but good to me. And, well, there’d been that whole thing after he’d taken me to dinner…

“You don’t have a choice.”

“I’m not doing it,” I said, voice fierce, ready to jump up off of the couch and rush him.

“Yes,” another voice said, making my stomach drop out, “you are.”

I was afraid to turn around, to confirm with my eyes what I knew with my ears.

Because I knew that voice.

I knew who it belonged to.

But this couldn’t be happening.

He was dead.

I’d killed him.