Trapped in his End Game (Series)

The door swings open and slams shut so hard that I can feel the vibrations through my feet. We’re finally back from the cake tasting, and Vince seems to be in a shitty mood. I wait for him to walk closer, to give me a beaming smile as his arm wraps around my waist. My skin tingles in anticipation, and then I get a closer look at him. The look on his face makes the blood drain from my limbs.

Vince walks past me without a smile or a hint of happiness in his eyes.

He gets like this sometimes, but I never know why. Since everything that happened, we agreed that the less I know, the better. I don’t particularly want to know everything that he does, anyway.

It still doesn’t stop me from wondering.

Vince takes off his leather shoes and hurls them down the hallway. Then he rips off his jacket and throws it on the floor as if it did him personal harm.

“Fuck.” His lips mouth the word several more times as he paces back and forth, his dark eyes flashing.

Okay. That’s a bit more dramatic than usual.

Then he walks to the freezer, pulls out the bottle of vodka he thinks I don’t know about, and two glasses from the cupboard. He pours two glasses.

His face steams with rage. The olive-skinned face that I know so well is clenched together. I can see him barely holding it in, probably for my sake. His black, fiery gaze meets mine for a moment and I look away, heart beating fast. He grabs both glasses, pounds one after the other, and then he sinks his face into his hands.

Jesus.

Nerves flutter in my stomach as I stand up and walk towards the completely still Vince. I’m almost afraid to touch him, as though he’ll jump violently or snap at me. My hand lifts to his dark hair and I tremulously lower it until the fine strands tickle my palm.

He doesn’t move.

I let it fall down his trim neck, to the slightly wavy bristles, and across his shoulder. I seize his shoulder muscle and I dig in hard with my thumb, trying to loosen him up. He finally responds, letting his hands drop and turning into my body. Still seated, he wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me closer, and his head rests on my chest. My skin tingles when I feel his fingers lightly stroking the exposed skin on my lower back, but it’s not sexual.

For once, Vince seems vulnerable. Scared.

Holy shit.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, hating how reedy my voice sounds.

“I haven’t been telling you the truth.”

I pull myself away from him, starting to feel a sharp, prickling sensation over my skin. He can’t even look at me.

“I need to ask you to do something,” he says finally. “Something that I promised I would never ask you to do again.”

My mind runs, heart beating frantically. I think of gunfire smashing through the thick panes of glass at the restaurant, the loud cracks shattering the air, and blood. Thick pools of dark red.

“What?”

“They want you to work for them. As a dealer in a casino.”

Is that all? My heart still thuds like I’m running a marathon. “Who?”

Vince lifts his head and begs me with his eyes. “The Rizzo family.”

The Rizzo family. The thugs who murdered my father and made my life hell. Heat flushes my face and I step away from Vince.

“How could you ask me that?”

He looks miserable. “Believe me, if I had a choice, you would never see them again.”

“What kind of trouble are you in?” My voice rises sharply, bouncing off the ceilings. “I thought you said that everything was fine!”

He lied.

Vince’s mouth presses into a firm line. “It’s not. It was never fine. We almost all fucking died weeks ago, remember? That’s not going to go away because you or I want it to.”

“So you decided to lie to me?” I rip my hand out of his grasp as hot anger bubbles in my chest.

He stands from the stool. “I wanted to keep you the fuck out of it. That’s why I lied. I did everything I could so that I could protect you and I tried fighting against it, but I have no control over Tony. He’s determined to punish me, and this is how he’s doing it. You’re a small piece in this whole thing, but you’re the piece they want. They want you to work until you pay off your father’s debts. They won’t take my money.”

“I can’t fucking believe this!” I return the angry look on his face. “Why should I be responsible for my dad’s debts? I haven’t done enough supporting my mother half my life? Why do we have to do this?”

“Because if we don’t, they will kill us all.”

I stumble back from the gravity of his words. I’m overwhelmed, I’m angry-This belongs to NôvelDrama.Org: ©.

“Jack is desperate for a truce,” he sighs. “Tony came up with these terms and wouldn’t compromise. I don’t really have a choice. They still don’t know about those two guys who showed up at your mother’s house.”

Only Vincent’s hands running up my arms make me feel like my body is still capable of warmth. His fingers run over my arms lightly before they curl around my biceps. I can already feel my anger with him melting away.

He’s right.

“I don’t know-”

“It won’t be that bad.”

He leans in slightly and kisses my forehead. The heat of his lips makes my breath quicken, and then he does it again and I shudder.

“It’s in a casino. It’ll be completely safe, unlike the bullshit we had at my card games.”

Like anywhere is safe. “A mob-owned casino,” I remind him. “Might as well hold a billboard to the FBI.”

“It’s not owned by-oh, fuck.” His eyes widen suddenly and his hands tighten on my arms. I feel fear transferring from the bruising grip of his fingers to my heart like an electrical impulse.

“No one knows that the FBI is tailing you. Not Jack or anyone else. If they knew-if they found out-fuck.”

Jesus.

The same bastards who killed my father will kill me. I can see it written all over his face.

“Oh my God. I’m going to be sick.”

Turning away from him, I slip off the stool and head straight for the door. Violent images and sounds churn through my head. I gulp down air. Everything’s smaller. Dizzy. I need to get out.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?”

His raised voice follows me as I stumble down the hallway, but for once he doesn’t follow. I grab my coat from the closet and slam the door on my way out.

When I’m downstairs and breathing in the crisp air of the Upper West Side, I feel a little better. I need to get away from all the madness, just for a little bit. Vince will understand.

Heaviness fills my chest as I walk down the quiet streets. Why am I such a coward? Why can’t I just deal with it like he does? I know I’m not perfect, but he loves me. I never get to show him how much I love him, too.

I’m not as strong as he is.

“Adriana.”

My scream slices through the night as a man stares at me through a car window. A black car rolled up beside me without me even noticing. The man raises his eyebrow as I clutch my chest, which feels like it might explode.

“You scared the shit-”

“Sorry-”

“-out of me.”

He smiles apologetically and shrugs. Who the hell is he?

“I’m Jamie. The boss would like a word with you, if you don’t mind.”

“Jack?”

The passenger window on the Mercedes rolls down and I see Jack’s venerable face staring at me impassively. “I just want to talk. It’s about Vince.”

Another painful thud against my ribs makes my voice crack. “What?”

“Come inside, please.” This is not an invitation I can refuse.

Even though I don’t trust this asshole, for once I’m eager to hear what he has to say. Does he have some way out of it? Something that will fix it all?

Trembling, I reach for the door handle and open it, stepping inside as Jack moves into the car.

Once I close the door, I shudder in the dark interior.

“Go,” he says to the driver.

My hands flail out as it suddenly moves forward. “You didn’t say we were going anywhere!”

Jack’s face looks grim. “We’re going to meet someone. Tony Rizzo, the boss in Jersey. You know him?”

I know of him. Based on my history with the Rizzos, I have no desire to speak to him, much less be in his presence.

“Why?”

Yellow light slides across his face ominously as he shakes his head. “I don’t know yet.”

Well that sounds fucked.

“Vince doesn’t know where I’m going.” I dig into my purse for the phone, suddenly compelled to tell my fiance that his boss just abducted me, but he grabs my wrist very much like how Vincent grabbed mine. His grip is surprisingly strong for such an old man.

“I’m sorry, honey, but Vince can’t know about this. Not yet, at least.”

The world shrinks around me. My legs feel trapped against the car seat in front of me, and the walls squeeze. All the windows are closed in the car, and I suddenly have the urge to roll them down. Can’t breathe.

I manage to gasp out a question, “Why not?”

He ignores my question. “Just pull up here, Jamie.”

The driver stops the car and my stomach roils as Jack waits for me to get out. I open the door and spill out, stumbling a little. Maybe there’s a subway nearby, and I can make a break for it.

But I’ve tried outrunning them before.

We’re somewhere on Canal street, the part of Chinatown with all the counterfeit purse shops. My head reels with the strangeness of it.

Jack palms my back as he moves forward, looking quite nervous himself. I don’t know what’s gotten the boss of New York City so wound up, but it doesn’t seem like he’s against me. He seems like an unwilling participant.

I hope.

We enter a brightly lit shop filled to the brim with counterfeit Louis Vuitton and Coach purses.

What the fuck? He wants us to meet here?

For a moment, I’m tempted to stuff one of the purses inside my jacket.

Jesus Christ, Adriana. I thought you got your shoplifting under control?

A black man sits behind the counter, looking bored as we huddle in. “He’s in the back.”

“Come on, sweetie.”

Jack prods me with his fingers and I surprisingly move forward.

Whatever. This is probably just a bizarre dream. I might as well go along with it.

In the back room there are shelves and shelves stuffed with boxes of counterfeit purses, fake quilted leather, cheap stuff. A hulking man sits behind a table erected in the middle of all of it.

Tony Rizzo.