A Bad Man: Joey (4 page)

The sound of Little Johnny moving behind him had Joey shutting the backdoor and turning. “All good?”

Johnny nodded. “Luciano is just a few blocks away.”

Headlights flashed across them, but Joey knew it was Luciano. The car came to a stop behind Joey’s, and then Luciano climbed out. Another man came out of the passenger side, and without saying anything, just tipping their chins in acknowledgment; Luciano and his partner went into the alleyway to clean up.

“You want me to take care of her?” Johnny asked. He reached in his coat for a cigarette, and stared at Joey.

“No, the only one taking care of her is me.”

Johnny nodded. “Understood.”

Joey climbed into the driver’s seat, and Johnny headed over to his car. Joey adjusted the rearview mirror so he could look at Marra. What in the hell was he going to do with her?

Chapter Four

The gun pointed to her head was warm, and it burned her skin. She wanted to scream, but it was like rocks were lodged in her throat, making it impossible to do anything but stare in horror as her life was about to be taken from her. Marra would be snuffed out like a candle, and there wouldn’t be anyone that would care if she was gone. But then that fear was made real by the warm coating of blood on her face, and the intensity of the situation slammed into her . She could smell it: metallic, tangy, and rancid.

Marra shot up, her head throbbing, pounding like a drum was inside of her skull, and then her stomach roiled. She could still smell the blood, could feel it on her skin and hair. She rolled to her side and emptied her stomach. Taking her shirt she lifted the edge to wipe her mouth. She felt marginally better, but the night’s events played through her mind like a broken record.

“You thirsty?” The deep voice came from the shadows.

Marra pushed herself up, and realized she wasn’t in that back alley, but on a bed. Swallowing hard, and feeling like razor blades were in her throat, she glanced around the room quickly. A large window showed the city of New York right outside, and judging by the light of the tops of the skyscrapers and the night sky, she knew she was high up in an apartment. The lights were off, but the light from the city came through and showed her a massive room with the standard bedroom décor: dresser, mirror, end tables, bed, and the bathroom off to the side. But the furnishings looked posh and expensive.

“Where am I?” she asked and stared at the massive form that made up Joey. He leaned forward in his seat and rested his forearms on his thighs. He stared at her, and this sinister air surrounded him, crawled forward, and tried to wrap itself around her, too. And then light illuminated the room, and she closed her eyes momentarily at the harshness of it. When she opened her eyes again it was to see that he had turned on the lamp that sat on the small table beside him. He held her gaze with his own, didn’t show any emotion at all, and she felt the chill in the room intensify.

“Well, where am I and what happened?” She swallowed, seeing visions in her head of what had happened, but also finding these black holes in her memory. Maybe it was from the shock, or from the trauma, or from the entire screwed up situation.

“If you’re thirsty I put a water bottle by the bed.” He stood and walked over to the dresser.

She glanced at the table beside her, saw the bottle of water and a bottle of aspirin, and immediately turned her focus back on Joey. He was undoing his cuffs, and then rolling them up his thick, muscular forearms. He then went to remove his tie, set it on the dresser, and undid the buttons of his shirt at the collar. But he was watching her through the reflection in the mirror. His focus was hard, unrelenting, but most of all unreadable.

“Your head has to be hurting.” He turned around and leaned against the dresser, and crossed his arms over his chest. His biceps flexed when he did the act, and she could see the definition under the white material. “Drink the water and take the aspirin, and then I’ll answer your questions.” His tone brooked no argument, but her head and wrist were killing her, so she didn’t bother saying anything in retaliation to his domineering attitude.

She looked down at her wrist that she had landed on and saw the black and blue bruise that crept out from under the bandage he’d clearly wrapped it in while she was out. “You did this?” She held up her hand. It was more of a statement than a question, because obviously he had been the one to do it.

He cocked an eyebrow. “It isn’t broken, so you’re very lucky. But it’ll hurt like a motherfucker for a while.”

“And that man, you killed him, too.” She stated it. All of this she knew, but she also knew she needed to get her head clear, and with the pounding in the back of her skull, the blood that covered her, and her wrist feeling like it was run over by a semi, she wanted to hear him say all of this.

“What surprises you more, that I took the time to help someone out because I can feel a semblance of compassion, or that I killed someone that was about to put a bullet through your head?”

Her pulse started to beat rapidly. No blood marred his body, and his tanned, firm flesh could be seen at the junction where his shirt collar gaped open. Marra swallowed and turned to grab the pills and water. She took a few, and washed them down, but one sip wasn’t enough. It was like she was starved for the water, and guzzled half of the bottle in a matter of seconds. When she was finished she looked at him again, knowing that Joey would continue to ask her that question. Taking a deep breath, she stared at her hands in her lap, and then ran her hand over the bandage. The silence stretched between them, but Marra knew a man like Joey, one that dealt with death in his chosen “profession”, had an abundance of patience.

She stared at him and finally answered. “Your compassion, Joey. I’m surprised by the time you took to save me, to bring me to wherever it is that I am at, and to care enough about my life to even save me.” Sweat was beading between her breasts and down her spine, and the longer he stared at her, not speaking, the more she grew warm and uncomfortable from the situation.

Joey exhaled and then pushed away from the dresser and moved back over to the chair he had been previously sitting on. “Right now you’re at my apartment in the city.”

She glanced out the window. “But why?”

He exhaled again and ran his hand over his face. He looked exhausted, and those two things were not something she had ever seen in Joey Bacelli before. He was always in control. He dropped his hand back to rest on his thigh and leaned back. His muscular thighs were spread slightly in a relaxed position, and he rested an arm over the back of the chair. “Is it so fucking hard to believe that I wouldn’t want anyone to hurt you, Marra?” he said evenly, calmly. “Is it a damn mystery that I would want to interact with you on more than just a sexual level?”

She didn’t know how to answer, didn’t know what to say to any of that. She had assumed Joey wanted her as a piece of ass, and because she kept refusing his advances he got more adamant on having her. It was like he wanted her more because he couldn’t have her, and Joey Bacelli was used to getting what he wanted. “Yes, Joey, it is a little surprising, given the fact you are…” She licked her lips, not sure if it was smart to say what she had been about to say out loud.

He leaned forward once more, now looking very interested in this conversation. “Say it, Marra. The fact that I’m what?”

“That you run the Bacelli crime family,” she said quickly and on a long breath.

He smirked and leaned back in his seat. “So because I chose to live my life a certain way means I would let an innocent woman die?”

Marra stayed still, and when she didn’t answer and he stood and walked toward her, she finally found the strength to push back against the headboard. The scent of him filled her nose as he came closer, and it was the same spicy, potent cologne she smelled on him every time he came into the café. It was subtle, yet dark and dangerous. And when he sat on the edge of the bed and she felt the heat from his body surround her, she started to feel lightheaded. Joey reached out and brushed a piece of hair away from her face.

“You need a shower,” he said and removed his hand from her. “You have blood all over you.” He stared into her eyes, and she got lost in the grey depths. “I have some questions I want to ask you, but I’ll let you get cleaned up first.” He didn’t move right away. He had one arm caging her in place on the bed beside her outer thighs, and the other on his lap. She felt like a small animal, a piece of meat in this predator’s clutches.

“How long do you plan on keeping me here?”

He leaned back an inch, not enough to give her breathing room, though. “We won’t worry about that right now, because we have other pressing issues that need to be laid out.” He stood and moved over to the door. “The shower is through that door.” He pointed to the bathroom she had already scouted out as such. “There are some clothes on the shelf for you, and when you’re finished meet me out in the living room.” And with that he turned, left the room, and shut the door behind him.

****

Joey grabbed the bottle of Bourbon off the counter and poured a shot for himself. He could have laughed at the absurdity of drinking bourbon and having another residence in the town of Bourbon. It was pretty fucking cliché, but what did he care? He poured himself another shot, and once he finished that off he drank a third. He had nowhere to be tonight, and every reason in the world to get good and trashed, although he reminded himself he needed to keep a clear head because he still had to ask Marra what she had heard from Mario and that Gondalo fucker. Even now Joey could see the snake tattoo that had been inked on the neck of the fucker he had blasted. Michael had the same tattoo in the same spot, and it was some kind of gang mark, which led Joey to believe that the Gondalo crew was nothing more than an organized group that had nothing better to do than try to start turf wars.

He took one more shot and pushed the bottle aside. Since the Gondalo crew moved in to the town right next to Bourbon six months back, Joey had let it go. They had kept to themselves, running petty money making scams that didn’t interfere with anything Joey or the Bacelli crew had working, and didn’t test the boundaries of his power. But slowly they had started coming into
his
town, eating at his businesses, and starting to make it known that they were trying to set roots. He had no fucking clue who their boss thought he was, but Joey had had enough of Carlos’s shit, and a confrontation was coming. Joey was strong, had power behind him, and a reputation that leveled others. If some lower class gang leader thought he was going to come in and stir shit, he clearly didn’t know anything about Joey or his family.

The shower cutting off had sounded about ten minutes ago, and he knew Marra was probably stalling. She was confused, hurt, and didn’t know what his intentions were. Hell, Joey didn’t know what his fucking intentions were. He wanted her, had for the last year, but then all this shit to get her into his bed and his life had gone down when he had blown the brains of some fucker all over her face. It didn’t matter if he had done it to save her life. She was innocent, and the life she led was in the farthest spectrum from how he lived his.

The door opening behind him had Joey turning around. She stood there, her dark hair wet and curling around her face, and the white t-shirt and sweatpants he had given her about three sizes too big.

“Sorry about the clothes, but I didn’t expect to have a female guest over.”

She moved closer, glanced around the room, and then stopped a few feet from him. “Nice place,” she said a little timidly. “Why do you have me here again?”

Well, she got right to the point. He grabbed the bottle of liquor and held it up. He didn’t expect her to want some, but he was a gentleman—at times, at least. But she surprised him once again and nodded.

“After the night I’ve had I could probably use the whole bottle.”

He smiled and grabbed a shot glass. After filling it and handing it to her, he watched in amusement as she tossed it back and then promptly gasped out. Joey shouldn’t find anything funny right now, but there was something about Marra that made him feel a little lighter.

“Another.” She handed him the glass. “Please.”

He lifted an eyebrow and smirked, but grabbed the bottle and topped off her glass. She threw that one back with the same disgusted finesse, and then shook her head.

“I think that’s my limit, especially since I’ve already been drinking tonight.”

“Are you hungry?”

She clutched her stomach and shook her head.

He stared at her until she finally looked up at him. “I have you here because I want you here.” He waited for her to respond, but when she didn’t he moved over to the fire he had started, and leaned against the mantle. She didn’t follow him, but it didn’t matter because she’d hear him well enough. “Not only did I save your life, but I took you out of an equation that could very well get you killed again.” He glanced at her over his shoulder.

“What do you mean, took me out of the equation of getting killed again?”

She looked honestly perplexed by it all, and it made Joey realize even further that she was so fucking innocent and blind to everything that he truly did. He turned so he could face her, and gestured for her to have a seat in the chair in front of him. She was slow in moving, probably because she was so unsure of this whole thing, but she did finally have a seat.

“What exactly did you hear before that fucker grabbed you?” he asked with a deadly calm voice. He saw her throat work when she swallowed, watched the droplets of water land on her shirt from the tips of her hair, and noticed the way the white material became transparent. Joey shifted in his seat, knowing he shouldn’t be feeling any kind of arousal at a time like this, but also knowing that when it came to Marra he tended to go against the grain.

“All I heard, and remember, was the man that was holding the gun said he wasn’t any use to Carlos any longer. The guy called him Mario, and that Carlos would have fun making Mario’s wife his whore.” She exhaled loudly and rubbed her hands down the length of her thighs. “He also said Kelly might have been innocent of ratting his crew out, but he’d dirty Kelly right up.”

Joey let her words play through his mind. It was clear that there was something up with Mario and the fact everyone in Joey’s crew thought she had left him. Obviously that wasn’t the case. Was Carlos using Mario’s wife, Kelly, as leverage to get Mario to do what he wanted? That would make a hell of a lot of sense seeing as Carlos might be trying to get intel on Joey’s operations. The problem was that Carlos was a dumb motherfucker because if he had been smart, or knew anything about the Bacelli crew, he wouldn’t have tried to get a made man to turn and instead gone after someone low on the totem pole.