Hard Up: A Military Mafia Romance (15 page)

“
Y
ou look beautiful
.”

Viola turned to find Vera, the woman her father had hired to attend to Viola for the week, standing behind her.

“Um… thanks,” she said.

She was dressed simply, in a white cotton dress. It felt scratchy and wrong, just like the whole day felt wrong.
Too bad there was no righting it…

“No problem.”

Vera swung around to her side. They were in the bathroom of Viola’s suite, before they headed to the airport.

“Who did you choose?” Vera asked.

Viola looked at her. Obviously she knew what was going on, and chose to ignore it.

“Travis Vespucci.”

“Ah. Seems like a nice enough young man.”

Viola ran a brush through her hair for the thousandth time.

“You’re nervous,” Vera offered. “You were always fidgety when you were nervous.”

“Ummm…” Viola said with a frown.

“When you were a little girl, you used to braid your hair. It made your mother laugh, the first time you did it.”

“I’m sorry. Who are you, exactly?”

“Well… your father’s… good friend. I was friends with your mother, too.”

Viola stared at Vera blankly.

“Are you saying you’re my father’s mistress?” she asked.

“I don’t really like that word.”

Viola looked at Vera, really looked at her. She had bright red hair and green eyes, and she was wearing a teal gown that was too slinky for her age. Viola tried to picture Vera on her father’s arm, and was disappointed when she could see it a little too well.

“You knew my mother?” she asked slowly.

“Oh, yes. For years, until…” she paused. “Well, some things are best left in the past. But your mother and I, we had quite the camaraderie. It used to drive your father mad.”

Viola had made it all day without crying, but the mention of her mother on the day that was supposed to be
hers
…

She burst into a fit of weeping, big fat tears running down her face. Vera was left trying to dry the tears of someone inconsolable.

“It wasn’t something I said, was it?” Vera said, alarmed.

The look of distress on Vera’s face only brought on another wave of tears. Suddenly Viola felt the weight of her situation keenly. Felt like she might cry a whole lake of tears, then drown in them.

“Ohhh,” Vera said, hugging her awkwardly. “I told your father this would happen. He should’ve just left you alone down there.”

“What?” Viola blubbered. Vera kept talking over her, like she wasn’t there.

“When he found you last year in Savannah, I told him to just leave you be. And he did… until he found out you were dating one of Irish boys. ‘Let the girl be happy’, I told him.”

So her father had known where she was… and had chosen not to intercede. Until Callum.

If her father had any idea how deep she was in with the Cúram, he’d kill her.
That thought was more certain than ever… and she was making decisions for two now.

She took several deep breaths, gradually calming herself down, and wiped at her face. She needed to cool off — and she needed Vera
out.

“Hey, could you go get the makeup artist?” she said to Vera.

“Of course!”

Vera rushed out of the bathroom, happy for a task.

The makeup artist, a shy older woman, came back in. When she saw Viola’s face, her own fell.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to start over,” she said.

“No… I think I can salvage what’s left…” said the artist.

It took about ten minutes, but when Viola looked in the mirror again, she looked like a different person altogether.

“Thanks,” she told the woman halfheartedly. The woman smiled and ducked out of the bathroom.

Viola checked the time on her phone and sighed. Twenty-two minutes until she left for the airport. She walked to the bathroom door and peeked out.

There was no one to be seen. She quickly walked to the door of her suite, pulling the door open.

…and found no one around. Not any of the guards, not Vera, not even the makeup woman.

She didn’t know what was going on. Was there a bomb threat she hadn’t heard about? She pulled the latch in front of the door and stepped fully out into the hall.

“Hello?” she called.

Silence.

The elevator at the end of hall dinged, drawing her attention. She suddenly wished she had a weapon, because the elevator door opening seemed… threatening.

A man’s blond head popped out, checking both directions.

Callum
.

“Callum!” she cried, unable to help herself.

He looked her way, and for a second she was able to see his entire face light up with relief. He stepped out of the elevator, wearing an elegant dark suit and carrying his gun in his hand.

“What are you
doing
here?” she asked as she rushed toward him.

“I could ask you the exact same thing,” he said.

They met in the middle of the hall, breathless. Callum reached out and drew her into him, her lips already parted for his kiss. They crashed together, hands in one another’s hair, kissing like there was nothing else in the world worth living for.

When she pulled back, breathing hard, she felt tears beginning to well up in her eyes.

“You can’t be here. My father will kill you,” she said softly.

“I can’t be anywhere else,” he said. “I love you, Viola.”

“I… I love you too, Callum. But my father—”

“Fuck your father. He threatened me, so what?”

“So he means it!” she protested.

“Yeah, well. I say I love you, and I mean that a lot more. He’s not going to keep us apart.”

He looked at her, his green eyes intense.

“Don’t you want this? Want us?” he asked.

The tears came then. “Yes. More than anything.”

He slid his arm around her, pulling her tight against him. She loved it, loved the feel of him… if only she wasn’t afraid.

“You’re sure that you want this? Me?” she said, swallowing. “You could have any other girl without a fight.”

“I’m sure, damn it! I’ve never flown halfway across the country just to stop a wedding… If that’s not certainty, I’m not sure what is.”

She was quiet for a moment. “You know about the wedding, then.”

“I know enough.”

She looked at him, then looked down the hall.

“Okay,” she said slowly. “If you’re really ready to run away with me, I’ll go.”

He shook his head.

“No running away from this. I’m going to tell your father in person. He needs to understand that you’re mine.”

Her eyes went wide. “What?”

“You heard me.”

The statement just hung there between them for a moment. She bit her lip.

Callum was a violent man, that much she knew. He was a man that fought for what he believed in — and he didn’t run from something just because it was messy.

She knew that about him. Hell, she
loved
that about him. She had to tell him about the pregnancy, though. It wasn’t fair for him to be walking into something like this half-cocked.

“I’m pregnant.”

She watched his face, saw the look of shock that came over him. He didn’t say anything for a few seconds, intensely concentrating.

“Really?” he asked.

“Really.”

She gasped as he swept her up in a hug, long and hard. She hadn’t really considered what his feelings about the baby would be, but apparently he was happy.

“Hey,” she said. “Let’s go somewhere safer.”

“No, I’m going downstairs.
You
are going back to your room.”

“You can’t ask me to stay in my room. What if something happens to you?”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry, but that’s how it has to be. You can’t drop a bomb on me like… like
that
, and expect me to forget it.”

She sucked in a breath.

“If I don’t go, they’ll kill you.”

“They might anyway.”

She stared at him, and he stared back.

“I was willing to marry someone else, knowing about my pregnancy, rather than have you gunned down by my father,” she said.

He thought for a moment.

“Is there anything I can do to dissuade you?” he said.

“No. Not if you insist on living out in the open.”

He paused. “There might be bloodshed. In fact, I plan on it.”

She looked into his eyes, so he would know that she meant what she said.

“Good. As long as it’s not yours, I don’t care.”

He pursed his lips for a moment, then nodded.

“Okay. But let’s go back to your room for a second. Better the hotel staff doesn’t see how many weapons I have, and I need to get ready.”

Viola nodded. She led the way, opening the door and going through first. She turned, looking to him. He stood on the other side of the threshold, the doorknob in his hand.

“Don’t be mad,” he said. “I love you.”

“What—”

Then he closed the door, jamming the electronic lock with an audible sound. She heard a soft whirring noise, and guessed that maybe he’d inserted the wrong card into the lock.

“Callum!” she said, moving to the door. She tried the handle; it was impossible for her to even jiggle it. “Callum! Don’t do this!”

She looked through the peephole, but he was gone.

Damn you Callum
, she thought.

She turned her back to the door and slid down. There was nothing for her to do but wait…

C
allum’s heart
was in his throat as he walked to the elevator. He hated walking away from Viola like that, but she’d given him no choice.

He never would have let her walk into a situation like that in the first place, but carrying his baby?

His baby.

He pressed the down button in the elevator, rubbing a hand over his face.

It was too much. Too big for the moment.

He put that fact in a box in his mind, to be taken out and examined later. Now was not the time to think about babies.

He moved his thoughts to the person who they needed to be focused on: Antonio Valetti. He’d done his homework on Valetti, had looked at a dozen pictures of the guy.

With his slicked back greying hair and his nice suits, Valetti should be easy to spot.

He also knew that Valetti was staying two floors below Viola.

He blew out a breath and rolled his neck. He was sweating a little bit — sometimes he still got nerves when he had to do a hit.

And this was no mere hit… it was her father, for God’s sake.

He got his two guns out, readying himself.

The elevator door opened and chimed.

Showtime
.

He popped his head out, saw two guards in the hallway. Big guys, wearing suits.

Will the mob ever learn? Don’t dress your guys like identical fucking idiots.

One of them was looking his way, snapping his gum and he stared.

Callum stepped out into the hallway, heading their direction. He counted the footsteps before they realized he was headed their way.

One, two, three, four, five…

Now he had their attention.

Recognition bloomed on one of the guard’s faces. The other guy just saw Callum’s weapons. Both went for their guns, turning.

Neither got so much as a shot off. Callum put them down mercilessly, moving forward to step over their bodies.

He didn’t give himself time to feel remorse or guilt. They were useless emotions in this situation.

The shots brought someone, maybe a guard, to the door. Callum closed in, listening, but stood so that he couldn’t be spotted by someone looking out the peephole.

Whoever it was, they were stupid enough to partially open the door. Callum shot the door twice; at this range, both were fatal shots.

He got his foot in the door before the body’s weight slumped on it and closed it. He swung the door open as best he could, shoving the body aside.

He peeked around the corner. He identified Antonio Valetti and four made men inside, scrambling to get behind chic, modern living room furnishings. Callum took one man down without reservation, then ducked back in the small amount of cover provided by the door.

A shot buzzed by his head — a shot that came damned close to killing him. He ducked his head and kept himself low, waiting for another shot.

It made adrenaline buzz through his brain, fast and furious. He had to wait a few seconds, let his head clear a bit. Then he just waited for them to fire another shot.

It came, though this one was wide of Callum’s body. Just that quick he popped out and claimed another victim. The guy Callum shot fell with a groan.

“I don’t want to shoot all of you, but I will if you make me!” Callum called out.

Silence. Callum counted the seconds — fifteen — until he heard whispers.

“I’ve killed four of your men…” Callum called.

“Okay, okay!” came a voice. Younger, likely not Antonio. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Callum Connor.”

They stilled a beat, then: “What the fuck do you want?”

“I want to talk to Valetti.”

“I’m right here, motherfucker.” There, that was Valetti. “Talk.”

“I think you know why I’m here. I want to marry your daughter.”

“You fucking Paddy motherfucker. Do you have any idea how dead you are? A dead man can’t marry my daughter, you filthy fucking Mick!” Valetti spat.

That gave him pause. He genuinely hadn’t expected racial slurs, but he could get with the program.

“I love her, and she loves me. It’s enough.”

“And you’re telling me… why? Because you think that slut is worth your life?”

Callum felt his grip tighten around both of his pistols. The old man didn’t need to call her that.

“Watch your language,” Callum warned.

“What, you’re my fuckin’ schoolmarm? I don’t get why we’re having this fuckin’ conversation.”

“So, I’m giving you the chance to give us your blessing. Maybe see your grandchildren someday.”

“My grandchildren?”

He’d said too much, given his opponent an edge.
Time to walk it back
.

Callum sighed. “Hypothetical grandchildren.”

He heard Valetti’s laughter, low and menacing.

“No grandchild of mine. I would as soon drown it as rock its cradle, I swear that.”

Callum felt that buzzing again, adrenaline filling his veins.

He didn’t let that stop him this time, though. He just leaned out, barely looking at Valetti. A gift from his SEAL days, he never forgot once he had seen a target.

He just shot at the couch where Valetti hid, strategically and calmly filling it with lead. He emptied the entire magazine of his gun into the couch, bullet after bullet.

He heard the old man’s taunt echoing in his head.

I would as soon drown it…

He heard Valetti get hit, multiple times.

Then he forced himself to stop. This was no old-time mafia shooting, this was modern vengeance. No need for any more bullets, he told himself.

So Valetti hadn’t taken a serious hit, maybe. But it was still enough for the old man to be in the hospital for good long while.

Good enough for Callum. He didn’t need it to be critical, he just needed to put the Don out of commission. Long enough that the buzzards would be circling his throne, and he would never be able to trust anyone again.

“That’s from your grandchild, you bastard,” he muttered.

Speaking of buzzards…

To the other guy, he called: “You can come after me… or you can stay and protect your Don. Your call.”

Callum listened for a second. Then he heard, “Hello? I need an ambulance!”

The guy had made a wise move. He was calling 911, trying to staunch the flow of blood from Valetti’s wounds. Maybe trying to name himself successor…

Fine by him.

Callum turned and headed down the hall, feeling the particular lightness that he sometimes felt after a hit.

He looked left and right, then stepped into the stairwell. He stopped to tuck his weapons safely in their holsters, then ran his hands over his face.

Valetti, his threats… they were over. Now, it was time to get to the whole reason for all that, the woman he loved.

He spent the next couple of minutes slow climbing the stairs, regaining his self-control. By the time he got to the top floor, he was breathing normally again, seeing normally, too.

He wiped a splotch of blood off his knuckles onto his pants. There was no need for Viola to see that.

He went down the hallway to her doorway, pulling the wrong keycard from the lock. He raised his hand to knock, but Viola pulled the door open first.

“Already?” she asked, quizzical. “You already…
dealt with
my father?”

“Yeah. Turns out, neither of us had much to say.”

She surprised him by throwing her arms around him.

“Don’t think that this means I’m not mad at you for locking me in the room,” she said, tears in her voice. “I am so, so mad. But right now, I just need to hug you.”

He relaxed into the hug for a minute, putting his arms around her, too.

“I’m sorry.”

“Just… shut up and let me hug you.”

He let it go for a few seconds longer, then pulled back and kissed her forehead.

“We should go, while the paramedics are here. We don’t want the cops to show up while we’re still here.”

She nodded at him, tears threatening. “I just need to grab one bag.”

“Hurry.”

She hustled to the bedroom of her suite, and returned moments later with the bag in tow.

“Here, let me take it,” he said.

She looked at him while she handed it over, but didn’t say anything.

What were you supposed to say to the person who’d just gunned down your father?

Thanks for not making me marry another man?

Callum’s jaw tightened. That was never going to happen, not while he was alive.

He’d see to it that she was branded his forever, wearing his ring, called by his name.

“All right, let’s go,” he said.

He walked her to the elevators, and they rode down to the lobby in silence.

They walked through the lobby, passing a couple of paramedics running upstairs. He saw Viola glancing at them as they went by.

He knew that even as much as she hated him, she needed to know that her father wasn’t dead.

“He’ll be okay,” Callum said, taking her hand in his free one.

“Yeah…” she sighed. “I just… it’s a shame, and a relief. Both at once.”

He nodded, as the paramedics disappeared into the elevator.

“I know,” he said.

He led her out of the lobby and onto the street. People were suddenly everywhere, and they were suddenly moving along briskly. Blending in.

Viola was nervous, holding his hand tightly. He looked down, thinking how days ago he’d thought he would never see her again, never touch her again.

He squeezed her hand, thankful. God, was he ever thankful.

They walked a block and a half before she came to a halt, looking around.

“Now what?” she said, glancing at him.

“Well… tonight, we’ll be booked on a first-class flight. Boston, Savannah… hell, I’d go to Antarctica if you asked me.”

“Oh yeah?” she said, a crooked smile starting across her face.

He slowed his footsteps, a store catching his eye. “Definitely.”

“And until then?” she asked, cocking her head.

“Until then, I guess we’ll have to do some shopping…” he said, turning her to point her in the direction of Tiffany & Co.

“Wh— you can’t—” she started. “You don’t mean that.”

“I can, actually. I declared my intentions to your father. And as it happens, I was just thinking about how to make you mine. Forever.”

She was speechless. “I— You—”

He dropped her hand and grabbed the suitcase, walking straight to the somber stone entrance, Art Deco at its finest. She was left to follow, mouth agape.

When he stepped inside, everything was
dazzling.
Beautiful displays of gold and crystal… and of course gemstones.

“Can I help you find something?” a refined sales associate asked, dressed in a flattering black suit.

“Engagement rings.” He shot a look Viola’s way; she seemed to be in shock.

Well, it was a lot of changes in one day.

The salesclerk lit up. “We have a whole selection right this way…”

Throwing a glance over his shoulder to make sure Viola was following, Callum followed the associate into a quieter showroom. Several couples were browsing together, looking very lovey-dovey, each followed by their own salesclerk.

The salesman went to a case, pulling out a tray of jewelry for them to look at.

“Let’s see… here are some of the classic engagement rings…”

Callum looked behind him, then beckoned Viola. She was turning a lovely shade of pink.

“Care to weigh in?” he asked.

Viola swallowed visibly, then stepped forward.

“Are you the young lady who this is for?” the salesman asked.

She nodded, looking uncertainly at Callum. “Yes?”

“Lucky you. Come, look over here…”

But Viola didn’t follow him. Callum knew that look in her eye; she was riveted by something. “What?”

She bit her lip, then pointed to a ring that caught her eye.

“Ah!” said the salesman, returning. “A classic piece, with a canary diamond. Emerald cut, two and one half carats…”

“Give it to me,” Callum said, pulling out his wallet and Amex Black Card.

“Right away.”

The salesman removed it, handed the ring to Callum, and the card to another associate waiting in the wings.

Callum turned to Viola, who was already welling up with tears.

When he walked over and got down on one knee, she started crying.

“Viola… what do you say to the woman who not only stole your heart, but saved your life? Just… I thought that I would never love anyone, not like I love you. And the surprise you gave me…”

He felt a tear intruding on his moment, and wiped it away with his cuff.

“Please say you’ll do me the honor of being my wife.”

She was wiping away makeup along with her tears, not that he minded a bit.

“Y-yes…” she said, breathless.

He slipped the ring onto her finger. It was a little too big, but it was like their love: sometimes imperfect.

He stood up and drew her in for a kiss, long and hard. She pulled away with a laugh.

“Forever?” she asked.

“That’s what I mean. Forever.”

She pulled him down to kiss him, and he let her.
Why not?

After so much darkness, their future had a very bright beginning.