Page 32 of His Wicked Wants (West Coast Mobsters #6)
CHAPTER 29
GAbrIEL
“I just wish he’d stop making me feel like I’m the one with a problem,” I complain to Yvonne as we drive down to the community garden. The streets get progressively darker and emptier as we get closer to the port, and it’s freezing in the van because there are sacks and sacks of crushed ice piled up in the back. I get nervous sometimes, coming out here at night, but we need to finish up preparations for our distribution day tomorrow. Everything is ready except the leafy greens, and we wanted to prepare those tonight as well as dropping off all this extra ice.
Yvonne, relegated to the passenger side after slamming back all that champagne, sighs in the manner of someone who has heard the same complaint several times already. Probably because she has. “Maybe he doesn’t want you involved in, you know. The shady stuff?”
“I am involved in shady stuff. Just not…” I trail off. There’s a pretty big difference between planting flowers in crappy median strips and burying people in concrete.
Yvonne, wisely, doesn’t comment any further. But then I see why she’s fallen silent: the chain-link gate to the abandoned buildings is not only wide open, it’s bent and broken, as though someone drove straight through it.
“Shit,” she mutters, as I pull up to the building itself. The front doors have been smashed in.
“What the fuck?” I explode out of the van and head toward the entrance. But Yvonne runs after me and yanks me back.
“Wait, Gabe!” She’s frightened and upset. “Please. They might still be in there.”
“I hope they are, because I’m gonna fucking kill them!”
“ No .” She puts her whole body behind dragging me back. “Gabe, please, we should just get out of here. This is dangerous?—”
“You know ,” I say, something clicking as I look into her face. “You know who did this.”
Tearfully, she shrugs. “Those heavies came around again and threatened to do this if I didn’t pay up. But I didn’t have enough cash on hand, so?—”
“Why didn’t you call me?” I demand, aghast.
“Because I thought the men Nero set around here would be enough protection. But I guess…I guess not.”
“ Shh ,” I hiss, and we both fall quiet, listening hard. There are no sounds at all coming from inside. “You stay here,” I tell her roughly, escorting her quickly back to the van. “I need to see what’s happened in there. They’re not here anymore—they’d be out here threatening us again if they were.”
At least, I’m pretty sure they would be.
I head in quietly, trying not to make any noise, but as soon as I get past the broken doors, I kick something that goes clattering across the floor. Shit . But pretty soon after, I can’t stop myself rushing forward. Even before I turn the lights on, I know it’s bad, and when the flickering sun lamps come on, I can see that all of the raised garden beds have been split open like broken ribcages, spilling their dark soil across the cement floor, irrigation pipes sticking out jaggedly here and there like shattered bones. The sweet smell of crushed tomatoes is heavy in the air. In the next row, all our large planter pots have been smashed open to spill out their roots like they’ve been eviscerated.
Worst of all, the distribution area looks like a tsunami has swept through it. Nothing is recoverable. The destruction is total.
When I walk back out on dejected feet, Yvonne is on the phone. “Okay,” she says quickly, and then hangs up. “Gabriel, you shouldn’t have gone in there!” she scolds me. “I called Nero, and?—”
“You what? ”
“—he’s going to be right here. He said he was just around the…” She breaks off as headlights sweep over us, and we both throw up an instinctive arm to shield our eyes.
For a moment I panic. It’s the vandals, back to finish the job. But then they pull up and I see that it’s Nero and some other guy.
Nero is here. Seconds after Yvonne’s call. Was he following us? The doors open and close, and I recognize the man with him as the one who picked Nero up a few times recently at Redwood.
Nero walks around the car, silhouetted in the headlights and casting a long, black shadow across the ground as he walks toward me.
“Stay there,” is all he says as he brushes past.
The other guy trots up to wait with us. “Hey,” he says with a grin, putting out a hand to Yvonne. “I’m Ray. My wife sure loved those gloves.”
“I’m so glad,” she replies faintly, shaking his hand.
Nero reappears moments later, and the look on his face makes me go cold. “I will take care of it,” he says to Yvonne, with that veneer of charm he always likes to use on women in particular, but I can sense the fury underneath.
And he hasn’t even looked at me.
Yvonne is getting teary. “It’s just that we were supposed to hand out the food tomorrow, and now?—”
“I will take care of it,” Nero says again, firmly. “Ray will stay with you and help you start to clean up.”
That seems like news to Ray, who stares at Nero in surprise, but then he just shrugs and nods. “Sure, I’ll help.”
“I will be back soon,” Nero goes on. And then he reaches out and squeezes Yvonne’s upper arms gently. “Courage, bella . All will be well.”
He turns to leave, but I jog after him. “Hey. Hey .” I stop dead at his expression as he turns back to me. I’ve never seen him look so…
Well, murderous.
“I will be back soon,” he spits out.
“Nero,” I say nervously, “please don’t—you know. Don’t hurt anyone over this.” He gives a sharp, humorless laugh. “I mean, don’t kill anyone. Please. This place is…” I throw my hands up, lost for words. But what I mean is, this place is a force for good. “Don’t stain it. Please.”
His eyes bore into me. “You ask a snake not to strike, a scorpion not to sting.”
“Please,” I repeat softly.
He turns abruptly and walks back to his car.