Page 17

Chapter 17

Eden

Could this day be over already, for Christ's sake?

I want to shower and bury my head in the pillow, maybe sleep for a week. In a coma. That way, I won't see some bitch, who I want to kick in the cunt, on her knees sucking Vito off.

I press my fingertips into my eyes hard enough to make dots and starbursts appear, which help to block out the vivid image.

Why do I give a shit?

And why do I want to believe Vito and his stupid-ass story?

I glare at the beer in my hand and decide I don't want it. I put it back in the fridge and slam the door. The kitchen falls back into dark shadows, illuminated only by the streetlights from outside. But I like the dark; that way, I don't have to look at myself.

Rubbing my face roughly, I take my phone from my back pocket and check it again. My heart does a weird clenching thing when there are no missed calls or texts from Vito.

Why do I care that he hasn't tried to call me since I stormed out?

Angry at myself, because I'm a goddamn idiot, I turn my ringer off and toss my phone on the island, then stalk to the bathroom.

Slamming my hand on the light switch, I turn on the light. Ignoring my reflection in the mirror, I lean in and turn the shower on. Rage flows through me, making me want to punch and kick and destroy something.

The bodega I live above was dark when I came home, which means I have the two-story building to myself. No one is down there to hear me if I screamed and punched out my rage.

I sit on the edge of the tub and fist my hair.

Why the hell do I care about some woman sucking Vito's cock?

Suddenly, I hear something over the noise of the shower. I lift my head, listening intently over the running water.

There's a song playing.

The only source to play music in the apartment is my phone—there's no radio, TV, or computer. My phone is in the kitchen, and I had silenced it for calls and texts.

I slowly stand, listening to the song with a shiver of alarm rippling down my spine. The song playing is one of Aiken's favorites: Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody . I programmed that song as an alert if there were any security system breaches here.

Which means someone is trying to get in… or is already inside.

Keeping my eyes on the open doorway, I move to the cupboard under the sink and open it as quietly as I can. The hinges don't make a sound, and I grab the knife and gun that I had stashed in there after I moved in.

I've hidden weapons all over the apartment. I was always safe when I lived with Ohith; however, he instilled caution and to be prepared and ready for anything. Since returning to San Francisco and becoming Gilly's owner-operator, my need for being prepared has only amplified.

I tighten the silencer on the gun and double-check the action and the magazine to ensure it's fully loaded, then take the safety off. I raise the gun in my right hand and use my left hand, which fists my knife, to steady my gun hand.

Crouching low, I move to the open doorway and listen, trying to block out the sound of the song/alarm notification still playing on my phone.

Even though I don't know what awaits me outside of the bathroom, I can't stay in here. If I do, I'll be pinned in with no exit and no place to take cover.

I keep low, my weapons ready, and move like a stealth cat out of the bathroom. The song hits the part with the lyrics, ' Mama, I just killed a man ,' making a foreboding shiver run down my spine.

I'm fully expecting to be attacked, but I make it to the kitchen island, which tells me the intruder is in a bedroom or the front entranceway or hasn't gotten in yet. I keep low and position myself with the island at my front and the fridge and stove at my back, and I wait.

It doesn't take long to hear the rustling of a jacket and the quiet thud of boots walking. The song is still playing, but my hearing feels supersonic as I sit in the dark. The only light on is in the bathroom, and the water is still running, so the intruder likely thinks I'm in the shower.

From where I'm sitting, though, if they turn around at the bathroom door and look back to the kitchen, they could see me from that angle, even in the shadows. I shift in my crouched position to move around the island.

There's a noise to my right, and I realize too late there are two intruders—men based on their shape and size.

I pivot quickly, and without hesitating, I fire my gun as the guy lunges for me. The silent bullet hits him in the stomach. With a pained grunt, he falls on me, taking me to the floor with him.

I'm trapped under his weight; the gut shot wounded him but didn't instantly kill him. He's sucking in, trying to breathe, but is still trying to get his hands around my throat.

"Give no quarter," Ohith's warning fills my head.

My gun is trapped between us, and I work to get it free. My biggest immediate threat is the guy on top of me, and I fist my knife, swinging it to stab his back. He grunts and jerks, and I do it again, spurred on by his weakening fight. The quiet sounds of our grappling will draw the attention of the guy by the bathroom, who's my next worry, especially since I'm pinned under this guy's weight.

I can hear the other guy moving closer as I breathe heavily and finally get my gun free. I have to reach over the guy on top of me, and I hold the gun steady, ready to shoot as soon the other intruder comes into view.

Everything feels like it's in slow motion.

The lights from the bathroom and the streetlights illuminate the dark, and the other intruder comes into view.

It's Jax.

My brain doesn't have time to process any other info before his neck suddenly gapes wide open with a slash that looks like a psychotic grin.

Blood sprays out, and Jax drops to the floor. His eyes are wide, staring right into mine as he chokes on his blood.

The now-still body on me is wrenched off, and instantly, I feel the cold from my soaked, bloody clothes.

I'm free, and I struggle to my feet.

And stare.

My brain must be misfiring. I blink, not believing what I'm seeing.

It can't be actually happening.

The guy who attacked me—who I shot and stabbed—is Cutt, and he isn't quite dead yet from the wounds I gave him.

Vito holds Cutt up by his throat, and he rams a knife into his stomach and rips it upward. Cutt's choked screams sound weak, and his blood spurts and gushes. Then Vito tears the knife free and slams it into Cutt's eye, embedding it to the hilt.

This can't be happening.

I blink again, staring at Vito as he drops Cutt like a bag of shit.

I stumble back, and someone steadies me. I rip away from them, spinning with my knife raised, and bring it down.

"Fuck, Ed!" The guy barely dodges my blade as it slams into the cupboard door. "It's me. Raf." He backs away, hands raised.

My chest heaves as the light from the bathroom illuminates Vito, covered in blood, standing over a dead body.

Cutt—a member of the Havoc Guardians—is dead in my kitchen. I wounded him, likely mortally. But Vito finished him off. Violently.

The kitchen lights turn on, and I see Raf standing by the light switch. My eyes swivel back to Vito.

His blue-green eyes are wild, and he rushes for me. I don't move. I can't. I'm too stunned. Too in shock.

We're so fucked.

Vito's big, scarred hands are bloody. He grips my face, searching it, and then he pats me vigorously.

He's covered in blood, and so am I.

"Are you hurt, baby?"

I stare at him in shock.

"Are you hurt, Eden?!" Vito shouts, then lifts my soaked shirt. But the blood is Cutt's from when I shot and stabbed him.

"No." My body shakes as the full reality of what happened sinks in.

I don't give a shit about Jax, but Cutt isn't just a Havoc Guardian; he's the Prez's cousin .

I rip free of Vito's hands, staggering back, staring at him. "Why would you kill Cutt? Why would you kill someone that could start a war!"

"They were in your home, Eden," Vito says calmly, covered in blood and gore, unfazed, looking at me like he'd do it all over again. "They attacked you."

"Then fucking shoot them in the ass!"

He bursts out laughing, and Raf tries to hide his smile.

I grip my hair. "This isn't funny."

Vito sobers. "You're right. I should've shot them in the ass. Patched up Cutt's wounds that you gave him, took both of them to my playroom, and made them scream. For. Days."

"What?" I gasp. "Why the hell would you do that, Vito?"

"They came for you," he growls. "To hurt you… or worse. They don't get to fucking breathe."

"That wasn't your call to make. This could start a war… Goddammit. I need to call Ash—"

"Nope." Raf grabs my phone off the island, finally silencing it. "Not letting you do that."

"The Chamber—"

"Will know nothing about this, Eden." Vito's look is hard and resolute.

I stare between the two of them. They're serious; they're going to cover this up. I can't process the why right now.

Raf moves, careful not to step in the pools of blood, and closes all the blinds and curtains.

"We'll get a team here to clean this up and get rid of these cunts." Vito hasn't taken his eyes off me.

"No, Vito."

"Yes, Eden."

I clench my fists and realize I still hold my weapons. I put the knife on the counter, then put the safety on the gun and put it down, suddenly feeling like it's burning my palm.

"I'm not using Santoro family resources to clean this up," I grit. "I'm not connecting you and your family deeper into my mess."

"This isn't your fucking mess." Vito stalks to me. I back up, but he keeps coming until I'm between him and the counter. He stops in front of me, not touching me.

"Ash and the Chamber might understand." I swallow hard. "That I killed Cutt."

"I killed Cutt. And that other piece of shit."

I shake my head. "Cutt broke into the home of Gilly's owner-operator; they could understand me defending myself."

Vito fists his hands. " I ended their fucking lives. And I'm not taking the chance that Ash or the Chamber will look the other way and not come at you. We're doing this my way."

I turn away because I can't think straight with Vito looking at me like he is. Like he wishes he could kill Cutt and Jax all over again.

I hold my hand out to Raf. "Give me my phone."

"Don't you fucking dare, Raf," Vito warns, low and dark, sounding like the apex predator he is.

I stare up at Vito and his bloody face, neck, clothes, and hands.

Between my legs is more than a mild throb.

Fucking twisted traitor cooch .

"I'm not calling Ash or anyone connected to the Chamber," I grit.

"Promise?" Vito's voice is deep as he stares hard at me. I can't read his expression.

"Do you want me to cross my heart and hope to die, too?"

He leans down. "Just cross your heart. I think I already proved that I don't want you to die." Then he straightens and nods at Raf.

"Tell me the contact," Raf says. "I'll hold the phone so you don't get blood all over it."

I have Cutt's blood on me, including my hands, and I grind my jaw. He's right.

"Pizza Jim's," I tell Raf the contact I want, then give him my code to unlock the phone—another code I'll have to change.

Needing to be away from Vito's intoxicating closeness, I push out from between him and the counter. I walk into the open space between the kitchen and living room.

With two dead bodies pooling blood on my floor.

I close my eyes but don't go anywhere else, so I don't track the bloody evidence everywhere.

When I open my eyes, they're watching me. Likely curious about how I'm handling this.

"Are you ready?" Raf comes closer with the phone.

Taking a deep breath, I nod.

"Put it on speaker," Vito orders.

The phone rings twice, and then an accented voice—one with a unique blend of French, English, and German—answers.

"You're on speaker," I say before Ohith can say anything other than hello.

Vito frowns at my warning.

After a long pause, Ohith asks, "Are you alright, my girl?"

"Yes." I look around the kitchen. "But two intruders aren't. One is a Havoc Guardian; the other is Jax."

Ohith hisses out a breath. "Good riddance. Did you end them?"

"No," I say as both Vito and Raf watch me, listening intently, and no doubt wondering who the hell I just called for assistance with this shitfest. "Two members of the Santoro family are here. One of them finished them."

Another pause. "Is one of those men Vito Santoro?"

My gaze swings to Vito, who's frowning. "Yes. How did you—"

Ohith tuts. "Eden Dallas Fallen, did you really think your father would not know everything?"

Vito's frown deepens, probably realizing this voice doesn't sound like Peter Fallen's.

And I don't know how Ohith can know everything. I'm fucking clueless about most of what is happening, even with myself.

"Anyway, adopted -dad." I rub the middle of my forehead. "I need a clean team at the apartment over the bodega."

I chance a look at Vito. His blue-green eyes widen in surprise at my request and that I have someone on my speed dial—AKA some mysterious adopted father—to help me out.

"I'll send one immediately," Ohith says. "We'll have to do on-site prep for disposal."

I wince, not looking at Vito anymore, but I can feel his stare boring into the side of my head. Raf quietly mutters, 'Holy shit' under his breath.

"That way, the bodies can be transported more easily," Ohith continues, as if we're discussing the best way to cook a steak. "Your apartment is too public to carry out two bodies, even rolled up in something, and it will take too long to do the full disposal there."

Full disposal… AKA something like dissolving the bodies in acid. I wince again.

"The bodega is empty?" Ohith asks.

"Yes. At least it was when I got home." I look at Vito, who nods to confirm the bodega was empty when they arrived. I relay that to Ohith.

He clicks his tongue as he quickly plans. "I'll post another team to watch and make sure it stays empty for the duration of the process."

The process… For fuck's sakes.

I pinch the bridge of my nose. Why can't I live a normal life?

"We'll use a dump site outside of the city, well beyond the zone the Chamber would ever use."

Vito and Raf both look at me with undisguised surprise and increasing curiosity.

"Eden, once I get you the coordinates, can you go ahead and dig a grave so the transport team can dispose of them quickly?" Ohith asks. "That's the least risky, as you know."

As you know .

I grimace because I do know. Not because I'm part of a clean-up crew, but because this is Ohith's world and specialty—or it had been until he faked his death so we could leave this city with no ties to pull us back. He had done that for me, and look where I ended up—back in San Francisco, running Aiken's bar and needing his expert clean team services.

Let the good times fucking roll.

"Yes," Vito and I reply in unison to Ohith's question about digging the grave.

Ohith pauses and then says, "Vito Santoro. Eden mentioned two people from the Santoro family are there with her. I am assuming the second person is Raffaello Romani."

Vito's jaw is tight. He and Raf still don't know who is on the other line, but he answers, "You're correct."

Ohith hums, then continues, "Eden, I suggest you clean up. Then, go somewhere public where people can say they've seen you. The clean team will decontaminate your entire apartment. "

"I'll go back to Gilly's for a bit."

And just hand me the Golden Globe afterward, please.

"I'm clean," Raf says, meaning he doesn't have blood all over him, and he double-checks the bottom of his boots to make sure. "I'll go and get clean clothes for Vito. Even if there's anything here of Aiken's, it wouldn't fit Vito."

"Perfect," Ohith says. "Sounds like we're all set."

Perfect is the last word I'd use to describe this mess. I swallow my snark because the blood on my skin is itchy. The shower that's still running will feel heavenly.

"Boys," Ohith says. "One more thing… Do you have any idea who you're dealing with?"

Vito stares at me. "I'm coming to appreciate that I really have no fucking idea."

I brave myself. Not only because of Vito's mild accusation, but also because of what I know is coming.

"Many in your world knew me as Ohith."

Raf sucks in sharply, and Vito's eyes fly to mine.

"Master cleaner who contracted for many organized crime groups," Vito says slowly. "Until you were killed. Only it's rumored you didn't die and are actually…"

"Yes?" Ohith prompts.

"The Black Ghost," Raf breathes in awe.

"The deadliest assassin operating in the world right now," Ohith's voice is calm but cool. "I suggest you remember that when you're dealing with my daughter."

The call disconnects, and I look up through lowered lashes. "I guess you'll be wanting an explanation."

Vito grabs my hand so I can't move away from him. "You think?"

Raf points at me, walking backward toward the hallway. "Don't start without me. I'm going to get you clean clothes, Ed."

"Stay the fuck out of her underwear drawer," Vito barks.

Raf openly eyes my chest and quirks his brow at Vito. "With a rack like that, you think her having 'free-movement tits' is a better alternative than me seeing her panties and bras?"

Vito growls and flicks his hand at Raf, who laughs and disappears.

I don't even want to know what that exchange is all about. Raf probably has a fetish for stealing women's underwear.

"Why are you here, Vito?"

His scowl eases. He lifts one bloody hand, then drops it before he touches me. "I wanted to see if you were okay."

Memories of the bitch on her knees in front of Vito come back, and I shove down the potent jealous anger that sizzles through me. "It doesn't matter who sucks your cock," I say as flatly as I can.

He hisses a breath and drags his hand over his head, either not noticing or caring that he smeared blood through his close-cropped hair. His eyes are frustrated and filled with regret.

Dammit… My idiot self wants to believe his story about being passed out and not knowing what was happening.

"I called Gus," he says instead of trying to proclaim his innocence again. "He mentioned what happened, that you went home for a bit… He was distracted with running the bar, and I understand why he might not have made the same risk assessment as I did, or maybe he believed someone like Cutt would never move against you." He's staring down at me intently. "All I saw was Aiken lying there… My gut told me to get here, especially since Gus couldn't find Cutt or Jax in the bar."

My face is impassive, but my hands shake.

Vito gently takes them in his bloody ones. "I couldn't let anything happen to you, Eden."

The honesty and raw emotion on his face hit me. I slam up my walls to stop myself from leaning toward him. I pull my hands free, needing to break physical contact with Vito because it will be my undoing.

Raf is back. "I put your clothes in the bathroom, Ed. Eden… Shit, I don't know what to call you."

Vito scowls at him, as if only he has the monopoly on criminals who can call me Eden.

Raf holds up his hands with a small smile. "Okay. Ed it is."

I remember Vito's comment that we had 'pet names' for each other. He's the only criminal who calls me Eden, and I call him…

"You're a fucking cunt," I deadpan.

Which, of course, makes Vito grin.

My skin itches again, and I bite the bullet about confessing about Ohith. "There's not much to tell." I rub my forehead when Vito scoffs. "You already know I ran from home at fifteen."

"I don't know the why, though."

"And it's irrelevant," I say tightly, my defenses rising. "This is the Cliff's Notes version. You get that or nothing."

His jaw hardens, but he nods, telling me to continue.

"I lived on the streets for a bit. I encountered Ohith by accident; he was coming out after a cleaning job. For some reason, he let me live. I met Jax shortly after."

My eyes involuntarily flick to Jax's dead body lying on my kitchen floor between the island and the bathroom. I'm having trouble reconciling the fact that Vito killed both him and Cutt to save me. And we're standing within eight feet of them, discussing how I came to have an adopted father who is sending a team to clean this all up. Oh, yeah, and who is an assassin.

Fuck my life .

I sigh, looking away from Jax and focusing on Vito, who's letting me take the time to process this.

"Jax was a bastard even back then. Ohith kept popping up like he was tracking me. I was like a feral cat, but he didn't relent. When Jax was trying to become a prospect for the Havoc Guardians, he got excessively controlling, abusive…"

"I'm glad I ripped that motherfucker's throat open," Vito growls.

Cue the pussy throbbing harder.

I shake my head. I'm a sick, twisted bitch.

"Ohith took me," I continue. "We left San Francisco and went underground."

"He faked his death to get out of the life for you," Vito surmises.

"Yes," I admit. "If people knew he was alive, jobs would invariably pull him back here, and he wanted to cut all the ties to this place."

For me.

Because I'm stubborn and weak. Aiken isn't the only one who sacrificed because of my inability to cope and face what had been done to me.

"Why was it so important for you not to return here?" Vito's eyes search mine.

"That's not part of the Cliff's Notes version."

Vito clearly doesn't like it, but he doesn't press it further.

"That's amazing." Raf still sounds in awe of having spoken to Ohith, a legend in their world and the deadly assassin. "You stumbled on him, and he didn't kill you." Vito stiffens, and Raf chuckles. "What? That part is fucking amazing."

I frown. "Ohith never could explain why he let me live after that first encounter, or why he felt the need to watch over me and finally rescue me. He always said it was a connection… a feeling of kinship he couldn't explain."

"So, you are an assassin, too?" Raf looks a little awed.

"No, but I may have picked up on a few pieces of the trade, so don't piss me off."

"Fuckin' rights." His eyes are wide.

"Okay, fanboy. You're both killers yourself; why is this such—"

"It's the Black Ghost ," Raf breathes. "I know someone who knows the Black Ghost personally."

I roll my eyes at his fanboying, then turn to Vito. "I need to shower and get back to Gilly's."

His jaw is tight. "I need to stay here until I get cleaned up and get some new clothes. You'll be there alone."

"I'll be fine." I tilt my head, trying to assess that statement and his expression, but then give up. "Text me the address of where to meet you so we can head out to the dump site."

He jerks. "You're not coming."

"Three digging is faster than two. Plus, I'm the one Ohith is giving the coordinates to."

Vito drags his hand down his face as his jaw clenches.

Gritting my teeth, I say, "This is my mess—"

"Fuck. Eden…"

His blue-green eyes glow with a searing heat. I glance down, noticing the prominent bulge in his pants.

Christ, he's hard as a rock.

Me demanding to be part of the clean-up of this shitshow is turning him on?

He catches me looking, but doesn't smirk. "This isn't your mess. It's our mess."

"There is no our , Vito. There can't be."

I stalk to the shower, avoiding the bodies and blood as much as I can, and hear Raf say to him before I close the door, "First time you ever do complicated… and you do complicated even fucking more complicated than I could've imagined."