End Game (28 page)

Joe’s facial hair is a little more stubbly than usual. There are more creases around his eyes, which look so goddamn sad. It’s as if he didn’t take care of himself for a few days. Then he slides closer without asking for permission. His warm hand anchors on my shoulder and pulls me against his broad chest, and I let him. His head bends and he kisses me, his arms wrapped around me as if he actually loves me. I feel something stirring in my chest for him, too. I can’t fight it. I’m so fucking exhausted.

“Kill Jamie Tucci and we’ll be square.”

He’s silent for a moment, and then he smiles mysteriously. “Careful what you wish for.”

I swallow hard. I hadn’t really meant it. Did I?

“I’m going to meet him.”

Joe’s eyes blaze. “Why?”

“Because he slandered my goddamn name. Maybe there’s something I can do—something I can say that’ll make him—”

A finger trails down my cheek and I look into his pitying eyes. “Honey, you can’t
make
a man like him do anything.”

I bristle at him. “I’m going to have a talk with him, regardless.”

“Stupid idea. You’ll only get yourself hurt.”

“I’m
going
.”

It is a stupid idea, but my head is consumed with it. I can’t just let him get away—I can’t.

“I can’t take this lying down, Joe.”

“You don’t even know where he is!”

“Yeah, I do. It’s a restaurant filled with bullet holes in Newark.” I stand up from the bench, but he catches my arm and pulls me back down.

His eyes narrow. “I know the place you’re talking about. It’s way too dangerous.”

“Well, I made it back from there in one piece.”

Joe’s face turns ugly. “Only because they wanted you to.”

“Maybe I can get him to confess to something and record it on my iPhone.”

He shakes his head angrily. “Marisa, you’re being an idiot. You will get killed.”

Heat singes my throat. “You don’t fucking get it. You’re just a mobster. What the fuck do you care about your reputation? This is my
life.
How am I ever supposed to get a job again with these accusations? I can’t just forget about it.”

“Then I’ll go with you.”

“No—”

His fingers bite into my arm and he gives me a deadly look. “Marisa, I’m not letting you go there alone. Don’t test me.”

I struggle with myself, consumed with the urge to deny him. Those brown eyes won’t let me go. There’s no denying them.

“Fine,” I utter finally, “but we’re taking my car. I’ll drive.”

Yes, I’ll drive and he will have to just deal with it.

Joe clenches his teeth and simmers. “Fine.”

Seized with a surge of energy, I stand up from the bench. “Let’s go.”

“
Now?
”

“When the hell did you think we would go?”

Joe scowls at me and walks by my side. “There has to be a way I can change your mind about this.”

My nostrils flare. “Nope. Not going to happen.”

My feet kick through the leaves scattered in the park. Grey clouds are broken by tree branches overhead, and I see the road, slightly reflective with rain. I’m not dressed for the rain, but I don’t care. Without even looking, I step into the street and a hand pulls me back. Joe’s voice yells in my ear, swearing loudly as a car barrels down the road.

“
Fuck you!
”

The driver’s insult rings in my ears. The close brush with death rolls right off my shoulders like the rain. The car speeds down the street and disappears. Joe keeps me clamped to his side, his grip painful on my arm.

“Jesus, Marisa!”

I yank my arm out of his grasp without a thank you. Suddenly, my anger’s back in full force. Fuck him for pretending to care. I don’t care what he says. I can’t forgive him for what he did.

He didn
’
t have a choice.

Fuck that, too.

The rain pelts my head as we cross the street, Joe’s hands deep inside his jacket pockets as he walks. He looks deep in thought, his face pinched in a worried expression.

Rain splatters all over my hair, chilling my skin. It soaks through my thin cotton long-sleeve and I shiver slightly. I unlock my car and we get in, Joe settling in the passenger’s seat.

I sit there for a moment, my wet hair dripping onto my forehead. The cold drops run down my face like tears. I turn the key in the ignition and haul ass out of Brooklyn.

Joe shoots me unhappy looks as I drive. His mood spreads over me like an oppressive fog and I clench my teeth.

The rain makes New York’s streets slimy. It’s as if it’s purging all the filth from the city, washing away all the exhaust and the cigarettes littered everywhere, but I don’t feel purged. I feel rotten. The anger coursing through my veins is like poison. When we pass Jersey City, Joe shifts in his seat and takes out his gun, checking the chambers.

“What are you doing?”

“Making sure everything is in order. If I had known we were going there, I would have brought a different gun.”

A leap of anxiety settles in my chest. “I really don’t think that’ll be necessary.”

The car is silent for a moment except for the pattering of rain.

“You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

I give him an angry look. “Yes, I do. If he’s a businessman, he’ll listen to sense.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

I shrug. “I’ll go to the police.”

“
What?
”

The pitch of his voice alarms me. “They ruined my reputation, Joe. What do you expect me to do?”

“That is not an option,” he says in a dark voice.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do, not after what you did.”

“Marisa, be smart! They will kill you if you go to the police. I can guarantee you that.”

“But—”

“You can’t expose them without exposing us, and then you’ll have both families after you. You won’t stand a chance.”

“This isn’t fucking fair!” I pound the steering wheel and feel a rush of tears behind my eyes. “This is
my
life.”

If what he says is true, I can’t possibly go to the police. No matter how angry I am, I don’t have a death wish.

So I’m supposed to be seen as a drunken moron who spent tens of thousands of her daddy’s company irresponsibly?

His hand snakes over my lap and gently touches my thigh. “I’m sorry.”

In tears, I look at him. Why does he even care? “Why are you doing this? Why do you care about what happens to me?”

“You helped me more than you know.”

“I didn’t do anything for you. You haven’t told me one reason why you think you love me.”

“I don’t think,” he says in a voice with an edge. “I
know
.” Then a smile twitches on his face. “I love you because you’re fun to be around, because you make me laugh. I love you because you changed my life. I don’t feel like I’m drowning anymore.”

Tears prick the corners of my eyes, and I suck in my lip biting it to keep from trembling. I take the hand resting on my thigh.

“Believe me…I care about you more than I care about myself. That’s why I’m going with you on this fucking thing.”

Air somehow returns to my lungs. “What do you mean?”

“We’re at war with Carmine’s outfit. I’ll be lucky if they don’t shoot me on sight.”

Suddenly I realize the consequences of Joe being so far away from New York, with no back up. If he got shot because of me—a sick feeling rises in my chest—I’d feel horrible.

“Maybe you shouldn’t come.”

“I shouldn’t, but I will.”

And nothing I say will stop him. He gives me a beady look, and I realize he’s determined to follow me right into gunfire if that’s what it takes.

I can’t really describe how that makes me feel.

Joe tenses when we drive into Newark, his eyes scanning the crumbling streets as if he expects to get shot. It’s not hard to find the restaurant. Joe swears under his breath when we drive past it.

“If they’ve been here the whole fucking time, I’ll laugh.”

I park a few blocks away from the restaurant and we get out. His head whips down the streets.

“Listen, maybe you should let me do the talking. In my world, it’s unusual for a woman to seek out an underboss like this.”

Sexist pricks.

“I’ve talked to him before, remember?” I say to his wide-eyed face. “It’ll be okay.”

My guts churn as we walk closer to the restaurant, Joe gripping the gun inside his jacket. I notice that there are actual beads of sweat on the side of his face. I’ve never seen him look like this. He’s actually scared.

There’s no guard outside the restaurant. Joe grabs my arm, his hand like ice. I wince and open the door towards me, stepping inside the dilapidated restaurant. The tiles slide under my feet and the walls are still a fucking mess, the plaster ripped with bullet holes. Joe swallows hard beside me.

“Jesus Christ. So this is where it all went down.”

His voice echoes in the deserted place.

I wonder if I imagined it all. Were the men who abducted me ghosts? Did they materialize out of thin air? I don’t feel ashamed to hold Joe’s hand, not when so much violence happened here.

Why the fuck am I here?

“Who the fuck are you?”

I’m shoved to the side as Joe whips out his gun, aiming it toward the voice. I hunch down as Joe stretches his arm, his jaw clenched. “We’re here to talk to Jamie Tucci!”

“Put your fucking gun down, asshole. The boss don’t hang around here.”

The man approaches Joe, hugging the side of the restaurant. He points a gun at his face.

I stand up warily. “This was where I met him.”

“I know you. You’re that
fucking
asshole who killed Frank.”

It was such a bad idea to come here. “You need to call your boss and tell him to come here. Tell him one of the board members of Worlds Casino wants to talk with him.”

He moves closer in the light, still pointing a gun at Joe. He’s a slim, balding man with round, black glasses. His overlarge ears make me think of bats as he slips his hand into his jacket and pulls out his cell.

“Who are you?” he asks me.

“I—I’m Ms. Toffoli. I met him here.”

He gives me a Cheshire cat-like grin. “I don’t know who the fuck you are, but I know the boss wants to get his hands on
him
.”

The men move around each other carefully. They both jump when I back into a wooden table and Joe looks away, swearing. “I just came here to talk.”

“I don’t give a fuck why you came here. You’re here.”

Fuck.

Joe gives me an anxious look as the man opens his phone. We wait for a few tense minutes for Jamie and his men to arrive. They walk in like overweight rats, filthy and beady-eyed except for Jamie, who looks like a suave businessman. The black suit he wears makes his pale skin shine, and his grey hair is slicked back. He gives us a grin very much like the man who holds the gun against Joe’s temple.

“You’re outnumbered. Drop the gun.”

Oh, God. What have I done?

I force my voice into an even tone. “Mr. Tucci, this is unnecessary. I only came here to talk to you about your recent—
ah
—acquisition of my company.”

“Why is he here, then?”

I glance at Joe. “Frankly, after what happened last time, I didn’t feel safe coming here alone.”

“I don’t think there’s much to talk about. The sale will go through, Ms. Toffoli. There’s nothing you can do to change my mind.”

“How about the fact that I could go to the police and tell them that you intimidated my shareholders and convened an illegal board meeting without me present. All decisions made during that illegal meeting are irrelevant, because I wasn’t there. Do you still think there’s nothing to talk about?”

The men around him instantly tense and Joe gives me a furious look, but Jamie’s smirk widens.

“All right. Guys, would you give us some privacy? Put the gun down, Georgie.”

Blood seems to melt from my face as they lower their guns. Joe tucks it back in his waistband, looking nervous but relieved. Somehow, my limbs unfreeze and I walk towards a booth. I slide into the red vinyl and Joe’s warmth joins me. He touches my leg gently and gives me a warning squeeze.

Remember who you
’
re dealing with.

I’m on the precipice of life and death with this guy. He doesn’t strike me as someone who can be conned, threatened, or manipulated. Maybe he’s still willing to listen to reason. I’ve already accepted that it was a terrible mistake coming here, but I’m determined to make something out of it. I can do this.

Jamie pats himself down as he sinks into the chair across the table. His fine eyebrows narrow.

“Just so you know, Ms. Toffoli, I don’t respond well to threats.”

Oh, go fuck yourself.

“Neither do I.”

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t kill you both.”

My back straightens and a chill creeps up my spine. I wonder why I’m not more afraid; he certainly has the ability to kill me. Maybe my body is keeping myself calm out of self-preservation.

“Look, I just want you to make a statement retracting the claims you made against me. You do that, and I won’t go to the cops.”

“Why do you even care? Do you know how much money you’re going to get from those shares?”

“I could give a shit about the money. You’ve ruined my reputation. I’ll never be able to get a job again.”

Harsh fingers pinch my leg. I throw Joe an irritated look.

Jamie nods sagely and leans in. “How about this? You get the fuck out of my restaurant before I kill both of you. You’re in no position to bargain with me.”

My shoulder wrenches as Joe yanks me to my feet. “We will.”

“It was a mistake coming here, Ms. Toffoli. You better watch your back from now on.” He laughs at my blanched face, and turns towards Joe. “And
you
. Consider yourself lucky that it’s the middle of the day, and we’re in a public place. You’re a dead man.”

“Maybe I won’t go to the cops—”

“Dammit, Marisa, be quiet—”

“Maybe I’ll go to
Forbes
magazine and give them my side of the story. You don’t think I can’t do damage to you? You’re wrong.”