Resurrection (Wesson Rebel MC Series Book 3) (4 page)

Prophet/Charles

I don’t want to admire her, but she keeps pulling tricks out of her bag. Resilience is a necessary trait. Not every woman has it. Whatever her flaws, she’s not waiting around for someone to save her.

Unlike Jewel.

The thought of the Judas makes my anger flare. It pulls me from the moment as we back out of the driveway and turn onto the road. The tires crunch over the dry dirt and I’m back, living my worst nightmare as the horrific memory plays in my head…

….The room spins. I close my eyes.
My stomach is sour and it’s only by sheer force of will, I keep my lunch from climbing back up my throat. Clutching my bedpost I wait for the spell to pass. I’ve been on a downhill decline since everything happened with my family. We hadn’t been on the best of terms since my marriage to Jewel, and now I’ll never get to make up for the lost time. It’s an unbearable burden. I stumble.

“What are you doing out of bed, Chuck? You are not yourself right now.” Jewel slips in.

I manage a smile. She’s been my saving grace through all this, keeping me upbeat and hanging on. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

“Well, let me help you. You know I’m here for whatever you need.” She wraps her arm around my waist and together, we shuffle out of the room.

It’s embarrassing having to depend on my wife for so much.
But a large part of me thinks it’s what I deserve…

Snap, snap.

I flinch as I come back to the present.

Vita is snapping her fingers from next to me in the car. “Are you back with me?”

I nod as I see we are parked on the side of the road.

“We’re about a mile away from my aunt’s house. Be prepared for insanity. I’m pretty much pulling a Lazarus, but it’s been a hell of a lot longer than four days.”

A Lazarus…as in back from the dead? It somehow coincides with the memory I just had. I’m grateful when she moves forward, instead of asking me questions.

“Open the glove compartment.”

I do as I’m asked and find a nine millimeter. I don’t have to look to know the serial numbers are probably long gone. I turn to her. “What about you?”

She pats her thigh and winks. “Believe me, I’m loaded and ready if it comes to it. Can I count on you to have my back?”

“Of course,” I sign, offended. Regardless of my emotions, I’m here to protect her and help get Houdini back. He’s our brother and more than that, he’s always been there for us in a jam. I’m going to do right by him.

She slaps the steering wheel, faces forward, and puts the car back in drive. Her hands are steady, but her knuckles are white and her face is strained.

She’s terrified.
I have to give her credit though. She’s been hiding from these people for how long? Yet, here she is, walking in like she owns the place.

Hell, maybe she does. Of course, she’s scared out of her mind. That’s no act.

I want to believe the voice in my head, but I can’t trust it. Believing a woman was what she appeared to be, damn near got me killed the last time.

We pull up to a mansion with a massive wrought iron fence that angles up like a bat’s wing.

I’m shocked they don’t have stone lions. They do have a massive fountain that pumps more water than most people use in a month for their homes.

She pulls up to the intercom and presses the button. “Say what I tell you, please.”

I nod.

The voice box beeps. “Lorello home, how may I help you?”

“I’m here to see Giada Lorello,” I answer.

“State your name and business.” The voice crackles.

Vita signs all the responses to me.

“Have her come to the camera and she’ll know everything she needs to know, Mario,” I answer the voice.

“I know you?” the man asks.

“No, but you know my associate.”

The box goes silent.

I can’t help but picture large men in suits, digging into a stash of weapons.

She stares into the camera trained on us.

The gates open silently and I lean back in my seat, as we drive up along the blacktop. My mouth goes dry, my palms sweat, and my heart decides to pump blood through my body overtime.

We round the curved driveway and the door opens. Two broad-shouldered men with olive skin and dark hair slicked back from their faces come out.

Vita parks and exits the car, so I follow her lead.

She takes two steps from the car when a woman parts the men like the Red Sea and rushes down the stairs. Despite her severe bun, heavily made up face, and well-cut black dress, the emotion on her round face is undeniably real. Tears spill from her almond-shaped brown eyes, smearing her mascara. She barrels down the stone stairs and pulls Vita to her, babbling in a language I can only assume is Italian, given their heritage.

I clear my throat.

The older woman glances up.

“She can’t talk.”

“What?” she asks, stunned.

“The attack, they sliced her throat and damaged her vocal box. She’s unable to talk. She relies on sign language and writing now.”

“Mi bambina,” the woman whispers while seeming shocked. She places sweet kisses on Vita’s head.

The scene is so intimate I want to look away. I don’t belong here among this reunion. I shift my weight.

“Why? Why wait until now to come forward?” She pulls back from Vita, holding her at arm’s length as she devours her with a hungry gaze. “Elisa, why?”

“That’s what we’re here about, actually,” I say.

The woman, Giada, nods her head. “Yes, we will speak. You are?”

“Charles.” I shove my hands in my pockets, not giving a damn if she thinks I’m rude.

She inclines her head and peers down at me from atop her towering heels. “Okay, Charles. My men will search you for weapons now.”

“All due respect, ma’am. Neither of us is going in there unarmed. It was a leap of faith even coming this far. I will tell you, I
am
armed.”

“He speaks for you? This Charles?” Giada asks.

Vita steps back and turns to me, signing.

“Yes, he does. I’m sorry it has to be this way, but we both know times have been troubling for years. Show us your weapons and we will lay ours down, once we are safely closed away in a room together.”

“You still remember,” Giada says. The pride in her voice is unmistakable.

Vita nods.

“Oh, Elisa, I want to know everything.”

She shakes her head.

“What’s wrong?” Giada asks, glancing from Vita to me, clearly confused.

“Not Elisa. Not anymore…Vita.”

“Vita.” Giada rolls the name on her tongue. “All right, come, Vita and Charles. You are guests in my home. And I assure you…no harm will come to either of you.” She narrows her eyes at the men a few feet away. Wrapping an arm around Vita’s waist, she leads her toward the stairs.

I follow a few paces behind, carefully scanning the area and watching the men for any signs of threatening movement. We enter through the massive wooden doors with decorative glass.

This is a lavish looking hell. Decorative and opulent with nothing but danger and demons lurking inside, waiting to lay waste to you.

The entryway is extravagant with marbled tile while a crystal chandelier hangs down from the high ceiling in a sparkling spiral that probably costs more than my motorcycle. I vaguely get the impression of expensive pieces of art, and sleek, dark wood furniture, crafted in an old world fashion. It was a dwelling fit for royalty. We enter a room that’s straight out of the movies. A large desk rests in front of the window.

Giada sinks into a plush leather seat.

Her men enter with us.

“Please place your weapons on the table behind you. My men will wait outside and it will be just us,” she says.

I look at Vita, who nods. We relinquish our weapons, placing them on the table, and the men slip from the room.

“This room is regularly swept for bugs. Please feel free to speak plainly.”

I sit up in my chair and focus in on Vita’s fingers. I’m counting on her to get us out of here safe and sound.

“I’ll be honest. If Matteo’s life weren’t at stake, you never would’ve seen me again. We gave this life up after Uncle Lorenzo turned on us. If he could kill us all and hunt us down like dogs for a year, how could we ever really feel safe again? The money, the position, none of it mattered. We wanted to be happy and safe. For all these years, we were. That changed last night when I got a call telling me they had my brother and I was next. What I want to know is why?” I repeat the words out loud. The story she paints turns my stomach.

The fire in Giada’s eyes is real. “Lorenzo is doing what he does best, alienating people and setting others on edge. He’s been playing Russian roulette ever since he got into the position. Eventually, he’s going to get a bullet in the brain. People are tired of dealing with his unpredictable brand of crazy. You never know when he’s going to turn on you. It’s had everyone tiptoeing around the eggshells that cover the ground. People are to their breaking point with it.”

“So, why is he still in power?” Vita asks.

“Fear. Who’d go up against him? By right, he’s the head of the Lorello family.”

Except he isn’t.

“Does everyone think we’re dead?”

“After all this time, yes.” Giada looked down. “Understand, I wanted to avenge you and my brother. Marco… You know how much I loved him. But Gino.” She clears her throat. “He didn’t want to take the risk of ending up…” She cringes.

“Like them,” I finish, disgusted. They left these poor kids out to dry. I turn to Vita. “How old were you when this happened?”

“Seventeen.”

Jesus Christ. She was a baby. Still is really.
As an innocent who suffered a horrific event at the hands of someone she loved and trusted, she never had a chance of normally developing. “And your brother?” I ask, thinking of the stoic man who made a habit of keeping to himself.

“Twenty-one.”

“What?” Giada sits on the edge of her seat. “What’s going on?”

Vita begs me to remain silent with the slight shake of her head and those damn expressive eyes.

I’m softening toward her. “Just clarifying a few things,” I assure Giada.

Vita continues to convey her message and I slip into the role of being her voice. “Now that she’s come to you, revealed herself and told you Matteo is in danger, are you finally going to make this right?”

Giada’s face clouds over.

This bitch is going to throw her out on her ass again. I tense.

“You must understand my position—”

Vita slaps her hand on the desk.

“I don’t think she gives a fuck about your position, ma’am. She says you owe her this, at the very least.”

Giada bows he head. “You’re right. But Gino—”

“Fuck Gino! You are the Lorello with the power. You always have been. Get off your ass and help me take back control of this family. The older families like and respect you.”

“A lot of things have changed over the years,” Giada whispers.

“The woman I knew wasn’t afraid to do what’s right.”

Giada’s head snapped up. “You think you get to come back here and judge me?”

“Frankly, I don’t give a fuck about what you went through. You will do this, or you’ll get left behind. You say things have changed. Do you like the way they are?” I say, stunned and completely in agreement with Vita’s decision to be vicious.

“Do I look like I do?” Giada whispers.

“Then do something about it. You know how this goes. With you backing me, I have a chance. Every second I waste trying to convince you is another tick on the clock running out on my brother’s life.”

Giada wrings her hand and fidgets in the seat.

“Am I wasting my time?”

Vita’s chest heaves. Her face is flushed and her eyes are full of fury. She’s a force to reckon with.

“I said…am I wasting my time?” Vita places her hands on the edge of the desk and leans forward, staring the older woman down. The air gets thinner by the second.