Permanent Lines (18 page)

Her hands covered her face, hiding her emotions. I stood tall, my hands in my pockets
and heart knotted in my chest, waiting for her reply.

She shook her head as her hands dropped lifelessly to her sides. “Please don’t do
this. Please just let me go; it’s the best for both of us.”

“Answer the question, Amelia.”

Two tears streamed down her face as she slowly shook her head. “No,” she said quietly,
not able to look me in the eyes. “I’m sorry,” she added before hitting the button
for the doors to shut.

I stepped back, letting them. Her face remained on the floor; she wasn’t allowing
herself to face the mess that she caused.

I stood there for a moment after they closed, staring at the reflection of myself
in the gold metal, not believing what just happened, not believing that she left.
I shook my head. There was no way! There was no fucking way that girl didn’t feel
the same way!

“Bullshit!” I shouted to no one in particular, pushing the arrow button down so hard
that I wouldn’t be surprised if I broke it. “Why aren’t there any fucking stairs here?!”

The doors opened on cue, and once inside, I cursed the slowness of the elevator; it
wasn’t moving nearly fast enough. I would never forgive myself if I lost her for good.

When the doors finally opened, I turned the corner like I was being chased by a serial
killer. Her hand had just lifted to the handle of the glass door when I saw her.

“Bullshit!” I shouted out again from the other side of the room.

Her body froze, still gripping the handle. She didn’t turn or even move as I walked
towards her with authority.

“Sir …” the woman started speaking to me from behind the front desk, but I put my
hand up for her to stop.

“Bullshit,” I said again, but in a lower tone now, only a foot or two behind her.

Her hand fell slowly as she gradually turned to face me. “What did you say?” she asked,
her face blank and eyes squinted, looking at me in question.

I removed the space between us, a sly grin on my face. “Bullshit,” I told her again,
my words almost a whisper this time. “You’ve gotta stop trying to protect me, baby,
because no irate mobster would ever make me feel pain like I felt when we weren’t
together. You can try and tell me all fucking day that you don’t love me, but I’ll
call bullshit each and every time.”

Her tongue pressed against her upper teeth and I knew she was questioning her next
statement. I stood there, waiting, smiling and ready for the next line of BS she was
going to throw at me. There wasn’t a damn thing she could say to make me let her walk
away again. Call me a controlling fuck, but it wasn’t happening. I wasn’t just a lovestruck
fool—that girl loved me and what we had was real, Goddammit, and I wasn’t going to
let her say otherwise.

“You
do
realize how stupid you are for loving me, right?” she asked, a smirk appearing on
her face.

“Baby, I would never argue the fact. I’ve been a stupid fuck my whole life; no need
to change that now.”

Her smirk changed to a smile. “Well, good, because you’re the stupidest asshole I’ve
ever met.”

“Somehow I don’t think that statement is accurate.”

She chuckled. “You just might be right.”

I wrapped my arm around her waist and kissed her forehead before turning back towards
the elevators, grabbing her hand once we were walking. “You
do
realize your ass is going to be hauled over my shoulder, stripped naked, and thrown
down on the bed two seconds after we step foot in that apartment, right?” I warned.

“I thought you said you could never make love to me again now that you saw my tattoo?”

Turning to face her, I grabbed her hips firmly with both hands, holding her close
and tightly to my body. “I’ll just close my eyes right before I make love to that
sweet pussy,” I whispered against her lips.

Her eyes shot opened, shocked by my choice in words, making me chuckle.

“Say it,” I said, our faces almost touching.

She tilted her head with a peculiar look, apparently confused.

“Tell me you love me.”

Her arms reached up and wrapped loosely around my neck. She inched closer, her lips
so close to mine that a sheet of paper wouldn’t even fit in between them. “I love
you.”

My cheek lifted with amusement. “Say it again.” I bit my lip, trying to contain myself
from yelling with excitement.

With our lips now touching, allowing me to feel her words, she said, “I love you,
Merrick Drake.”

It was just after seven when Kayla and Miles came over. Amelia and I were sitting
at the kitchen island eating the dinner that Mrs. Doubtfire made for us and talking;
it seemed almost normal. I was actually liking the food at whatever hour we wanted
and the chicken riggies made from scratch were balls fucking good.

“Hey,” Kayla greeted us, using my fork to help herself to some of my food.

“Help yourself,” I told her sarcastically.

She smiled. “I did. Thanks.”

I stood, noticing Miles quietly glaring out the windows at the space where the new
skyscraper was being built at Ground Zero. I’d never seen Miles so standoffish and
intense. Yeah, he was business 24/7, except when he was with Kayla, but this was a
whole new level. He was mute. Intimidating … even to me.

Without speaking a word, I moved to stand beside him, my hands in my pockets, looking
at the same thing. It was pretty unbelievable, actually. The new building was going
to be huge and covered with mirrors. I think any New York City resident held a special
place in their heart for that area of the city. I didn’t live here when it happened,
but it didn’t matter; it happened on my home turf and it wasn’t something we took
lightly. Seeing the progress and the beauty going into the place where such a dreadful
thing happened was a pretty amazing sight.

“Pretty amazing, huh?” I asked, breaking the silence.

Within the last day, Miles and I had spoken more than we had over the six months he
and Kayla had been together. I hated that it was because I needed him, but I guess,
whatever way you looked at it, it was bringing us a little closer. Not the way I think
Kayla was hoping, of course, but we were communicating nonetheless.

He didn’t respond to my question, getting to business instead. “I had some guys stop
at McShane’s today.”

My gut clenched. The bar was my baby. As ridiculous as it sounded coming from a guy
like me, it really was. That place was my new beginning; I kind of saw the bar as
when my life finally began.

I nodded my head but didn’t speak. I didn’t know what the hell to say.

He shook his head and I steeled myself for his report. “It didn’t look good,” he said
succinctly, keeping his gaze outside. “They destroyed the place, including the living
space upstairs.”

I swallowed hard. I kind of figured the fucker would do that. I had what he wanted.
I’m pretty sure that didn’t sit well with a controlling mafia bastard.

“I can’t be sure if they took anything. I’m not aware of your belongings, but drawers
were pulled, cupboards torn apart, the mattress pulled apart and flipped. I’m sure
they were looking for any collateral to hold against you or information for a lead
to your whereabouts. I’m almost positive he knows you have Amelia.”

“Well, shouldn’t I call the police? Maybe they can take care of him, and I’m sure
I’ll need a police report for insurance.”

He shook his head sadly, some of the first emotion I’d see him show towards me and
my situation. “That would do you more harm than good. The mob pays out the police
force and you would have to be present when searching through the damage.”

“Revealing my identity,” I supplied.

“Precisely.”

“Awesome,” I said through a clenched jaw, 100% pissed. I was a fucking sitting duck.
The fucker could destroy whatever he wanted and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.
I hated the fucking mob. HATED them! A bunch of Italian fuckers that thought they
were hot shit only because they were fucking psychotic and would kill off any person
that looked at them wrong. Funny thing was, they were the biggest pussies ever, never
doing their dirty work themselves, always having their minions do it for them. At
least, that’s what I’d heard. Before now, I’d stayed the fuck away from the mob.

We turned as Amelia and Kayla joined us, both Miles and I trying our best to not look
either pissed off or panicked, but Amelia obviously could see through it, asking right
away, “What’s wrong?”

I rubbed my face and exhaled before looking at her. “They destroyed my place and the
bar.”

Shame covered her face, and I hated it.

“It’s not your fault, baby, so don’t even go there,” I told her.

“But it’s your bar, your home,” she protested.

I heard the emotion building in her tone and grasped her arms, squaring myself to
her. “All material things, love. They can all be replaced,” I told her. “You … me.
We can’t.”

She nodded her head slowly; she got what I was saying but had no other response. I
kissed her forehead gently before turning back to Miles.

“So what do we do now?” I asked bluntly. I was anxious to take care of this fucker.
I couldn’t handle just sitting around and let him take my life piece by piece. I wanted
the bastard gone … and as fast as possible. I guess in my head, I already knew what
had to be done. Getting it done was now the million dollar question.

Miles turned to Amelia. “My sources have discovered that their ring is under your
studio. Is that correct?”

“Yeah,” she answered quietly. “Antonio’s office is in the back.”

A light bulb went off and I knew why she was so nervous for me to be in the studio
yesterday. Business as usual was being conducted right behind that door that she was
so afraid to open while I was inside.

Dammit!

“But everything is set up in the basement,” she continued.

“So your studio is just a cover then?” I asked.

“It wasn’t at first,” she said, her anger building clear as day on her face. “It started
out as my birthday present. I loved art. I loved painting, so I thought he was doing
something nice for me, and it was … originally,” her voice wavered.

“Until his Uncle Marty died and he took over?” Miles finished for her.

She nodded her head. “Yup. That’s when the studio became his cover.”

I shook my head. I hated how he manipulated Amelia and made her believe that he was
this stellar guy. When it came down to it, nothing came before the mob, and it didn’t
matter who they hurt. They didn’t recognize the fucking amazing people like Amelia
that they had in their lives. I just didn’t know how anyone couldn’t see Amelia like
I did. I couldn’t even imagine taking her dream away from her, though he probably
saw it differently—like a win for both of them. She could still run the studio while
he used it to cover up his illegal business. Of course, the fucker didn’t see that
it wasn’t all hers anymore. He took away her escape and she couldn’t indulge in her
passion anymore. It was tainted now. God, I fucking hated him!

I wrapped my arm around Amelia’s shoulders, pulling her into my side before kissing
her forehead. Never would my girl ever feel replaced like that again. Nothing would
come before her in my life. She was it. She was my number one.

She snuggled closer into my side, squeezing my waist with her arms like she knew what
I was thinking. I wasn’t going anywhere and the way I felt about her was concrete—cement—nothing
would break through that shit. We were solid.

“From what I’ve been told, that’s the only location business is conducted,” Miles
stated, looking at Amelia.

“The only place I’m aware of. That’s where I always see them.”

“But they’re trying to take over another group right now, though. Correct?”

She nodded her head. “Yeah, they’ve been taking trips west a lot lately. There’s a
ring in Southern California. It was falling apart.”

“Like Antonio’s. Therefore, the idea is to join forces to gain more control, to work
together and cover more territory,” Miles added.

“Yeah, sounds like what was going on,” Amelia agreed.

“He didn’t tell you any of this?” I asked her, confused.

She shook her head. “No. He never discussed any of that stuff with me. I was never
even allowed downstairs. I knew very little, but I knew he had work on the West Coast
with another group.”

“So how do you know any of this?” I asked with an eyebrow raised.

“His cousin, Joey,” she was quick to answer. “He was in the same boat as Antonio.
He wasn’t involved in much of it, but was kinda forced in when Marty died. It was
like all hands on deck in the family. Antonio was all about it; Joey, not so much.”

“The power,” Miles concluded.

She agreed. “Yeah, but Joey hated it. He wanted nothing to do with it, that’s why
he never went on any business meetings with them. So we talked—we both were like the
outsiders.”