Trapped in his End Game (Series)

“Melanie!”

My eyes flicker open.

“Melanie, are you home?”

A deeper voice calls out my name and a pair of footsteps frantically moves around the house, looking for me. I pull the sheets down, still caught in that confused fog of sleep. My mom appears at my doorway, clutching her chest as she stares down at me.

“She’s here!” In tears, she hurries to my side and places a hand on my head. “Baby, are you all right?”

No. Not really.

Rousing myself, I sit upright and look at them both. “Mom, Dad, we can’t stay here.”

“Melanie, what happened? The FBI agents wouldn’t tell us why they were bringing us back.”

Dad’s frantic voice makes me feel a twinge of guilt. “It’s a long story.”

“They took you from the motel, didn’t they? Those fucking bastards-”

“I’m not testifying against them anymore.”

I quail under the look on his face.

“You what? Melanie, you don’t have a choice!”

“Yes, I do!” In a fury, I don’t even care that my voice probably carries through the thin walls. I stand to my feet, pointing at his chest. “You made me feel like I never had a choice. I gave up my dreams to help you do something I hated. I can’t do it anymore, Dad. I’m not leaving New York.”

Mom clutches her purse to her chest. “But, sweetie-”

“No. I need to live my own life. This is my decision.”

Grabbing an empty bag, I yank clothes from my hangers, stuffing everything inside in a rage as they stare down at me. “You both need to leave this house. Find a motel and don’t use your real names. I’m leaving.”

Having no idea what time it is, I glance at my watch. Nine a. m. I ignore their sputtering complaints as I shoulder my bag and head out the front door. On the way out, I catch a glance of my father’s defeated face and a sob shakes from my throat. They’re my parents, and I love them, but I need to have my own life.

Even if it makes me feel like a selfish bitch.

Outside, a gust of wind blows into my jacket and I shiver all over, and wonder where the hell I’m going to go. There’s only one place I can think of, but he told me to leave. For my own good, he said. I was better off without him. Said he planned to end my life the whole time. It cut me deep when he admitted that. Part of me hoped he was telling the truth, but I knew it all along, really.

And the fucked-up part is that I’ve already forgiven him.

You deserve to follow your dreams without someone like me in your life.

My eyes sting with tears when I think of how earnest his voice was. He meant it, unlike the other people in my life who expected me to follow the choices already made for me. He wanted me to be free of him.

That’s why he wanted to hurt me. To make me go away.

Well, he doesn’t get to make that choice.

I’ll break down his door if I have to.

I descend the stairs to the metro, taking it all the way to West Village. My spirits lift as I climb out of the subway, spotting his house down the road. I slip on the stairs and grab the railing, hauling myself to the top. Then I hammer on his door. The heavy knocks rattle the door and I inhale my breath, waiting for him to wrench open the door with a scowl on his face.

Several minutes pass and I blow freezing air through my nose. There’s nothing but the distant sound of traffic rumbling through the streets. I knock again, making sure to hammer the door.

Still nothing.

So he isn’t even fucking here. I glance at my phone uselessly because I don’t even have his number. A swell of disappointment rises in my chest and I move away from the door to descend the steps. The snow crunches under my feet as I weigh my options, scrolling down my list of contacts. Working full-time at the club meant very few opportunities to make friends, except for Michelle, who turned out to be only interested in my friendship so that she could screw me over.

Nice, eh?

I suppose I could use the meager amount in my savings account to get a hotel somewhere. Home is out of the question. I mull it over in my head as a car pulls up the side of the road, and I instinctually move away from the curb. An electronic sound of the window rolling down makes me tense all over-I expect that some jerk is going to scream something obscene to me.

“Miss, could you tell me where Christopher Street is?”

I stop in my tracks, looking at the man’s friendly smile through the window, and I approach the window. “Yeah, it’s just-”

I point down the road, turning my head, and suddenly a large force tackles my side. My scream hardly lifts to the icy air before a gloved hand clamps firmly over my lips.

It’s just like what happened at the motel, except I don’t recognize the man wrestling with me. My elbows jut out like sharp weapons, and I slam them repeatedly into his chest. It’s like a brick wall. My blows glance off and he wraps an arm around me, pinning me down. The hand around my mouth slowly suffocates me, and my eyes wildly search the whiteness.

Someone help me!

The car door opens and I twist violently in his grasp. For a moment there’s only the sound of my suffocating breaths and his grunts.

“Hold the fuck still.”

He lets go of my mouth long enough for me to inhale a chestful of air, and once again he muffles my scream. I stumble forward and then I’m thrown bodily into the van. My scream rebounds in the van as I reach for the door, finding it hopelessly locked.

“NO!”

“Shut the fuck up!”

A fist slams against the side of my face, crunching my bones and jarring my head. I drop like a stone, clutching my head as the door slams shut and the car lurches forward.

No, I can’t just give up. They’ll kill me. They got what they wanted from me, and they’ll have no qualms about killing me.

My fingers tear at his hair and I launch my body forward, hand reaching for the door.

“Fucking cunt!”

“Get her under control!”

He knees my stomach, knocking the wind right out of my lungs. It’s a hard, swift blow that jars every organ inside me. The ache spreads and I retch from the pain. My screams cut off into a deep, shuddering moan as I wrap my arm around my stomach, rolling on the floor.

I just can’t. I couldn’t escape Tommy. I sure as hell won’t be able to escape them.

Tommy. I wonder where he is, if he even realizes what’s happening to me.

Against my will, because I don’t want these bastards to see me crying, tears slide down my cheek into the abrasive carpet of the floor. My jaw already swells with the blow he gave me, which radiates pain into my skull. Too soon, the car stops in some darkened alley and adrenaline sears through my veins like liquid caffeine.

He grabs my arms, twisting them behind me as someone opens the doors. His foul hand slaps over my lips. I see a burst of blue sky and white clouds, and I wonder if it’ll be the last time I see sunshine and blue skies. The beauty of it brings tears to my eyes, and suddenly all the things I took for granted mean everything. The smell of fresh air, all the colors of the day, and even the taste of Tommy’s lips. I wrestle madly in his grip, escaping for a moment to scream, but then another one grips my jaw shut, and my teeth bite into my tongue. Blood swirls in my mouth, the metallic taste making me gag.

A door shrieks open and a pair of hands shove my back. The world spins around me as I trip over the threshold and collapse on the floor. I’m in a room with concrete floors-a pool table sits in front of me. There are desks and chairs, a refrigerator, and a handful of men whose faces blur together as my eyes search for an escape-something to defend myself. The door slams shut and I flinch at the sound, looking around wildly at the two men who abducted me. Standing in the back, looking at me with his jaw dropped, is Tommy.

He wears a midnight-blue suit, his face unshaven and a pinched look around his eyes as if he slept badly. The sight of him brings relief so strong that I can’t hold back the emotion building up behind my eyes and his name rips out of me with a strangled cry.

“Tommy!”

I cry in relief when he takes several strides toward me, but one of them, a skinny, young boy, blocks his path. He was the driver.

“We brought her for Jack, not you.”

Tommy doesn’t say a word. He just takes the scruff of the boy’s neck and hurls him headfirst into the edge of the pool table. Screams of outrage fill the air as he slams the man’s face into the sharp corner of the wood again and again. Blood sprays over the table and a sickening crack splits the air. The man screams, clutching his face as Tommy lets him drop to the floor. The other one attempts to rush him, and suddenly Tommy pulls a pistol from his jacket. Deafening blows crack from his gun, exploding into the man’s chest. I scream at the noise and back away from the table as the men in the room instantly grab their guns, drawing them at Tommy.

Holy shit!

He lowers his smoking gun as the man falls to ground, dead. A stupid, faintly surprised look is frozen over his face as blood silently spills over the concrete. The other young man lets out loud wails. Everyone stares at Tommy, too shocked to speak, until he turns toward Jack, who clenches the edge of the table.

“What the fuck is this?” Tommy snarls.

“They weren’t supposed to bring her here-fucking morons.”

I’m appalled by his lack of concern over the dead man on the floor. Jesus Christ.

Jack steps around the pool table. “Tommy, listen to me-”

“No, you fucking listen. You went behind my fucking back like a coward, after she gave you what you wanted.”

“She was never going to live, you fucking asshole.”

He raises his arm, his voice dripping with that deadly calm. “Then I guess I’ll shoot you right in the fucking head.”

My heart slams against my chest. Is he crazy? There’s no way he can win a gunfight against all these men, unless he’s planning on going out in a blaze of glory.

Suddenly Vince approaches the table, his face blanched. “Everybody just calm down-”

Tommy’s handsome face twists with rage at the word. “I’ve never been appreciated by any of you fucking jerks. I saved all your asses, and this is how you repay me?”

“Jack, I don’t have a problem with letting the girl live,” Vince says quickly, placing a hand on the boss’s shoulder. “He’s done a lot for us.”

The man’s tortured moans slightly distract Tommy. He flicks his head toward the man twisting on the floor with the air of an elephant ridding himself of a fly.

“You’re not off the hook yet,” he snarls at Vincent. “She still hired that FBI twat who has evidence linking the coke dealing to all of you!”

“None of us saw that coming.”

“We do not let rats live, how many fucking times do I have to explain that to you?” Jack shrugs the hand off his shoulder. “That’s why you’ll never be made, Tommy. You’re too weak-”

Another series of gunshots ring in the small room as Tommy fires at the man clutching his head on the floor, making the others draw their weapons. He doesn’t even scream as the bullets rip through his back. The man’s body jumps slightly with the gunshots and then he stops moving.

Oh my God.

Jack’s apoplectic scream cuts through the ringing echoes. “Fucking psycho!”

The others aim their guns at Tommy, who looks supremely unconcerned.

“Maybe I’ll leave this crew and take my talents elsewhere,” he says with a threat in his voice. “I hear Johnny in Montreal opens the books for non-Italians all the time. I’ll fucking do it, and you assholes will be without your highest earner.”

“Jack,” Vince hisses, his dark face lit with frustration. “We need him.”

The older man whirls on him, grabbing him by his lapels and slapping him hard against his face. “Are you the fucking boss? No? Then shut the fuck up!”

Vince hardens as a red mark blossoms on his cheek. A threatening leer painfully spreads across his face and I can almost see him lunging at Jack, but he carefully keeps himself still. The others look pale and confused, unsure of what to do.

Suddenly I feel a gentle arm around my waist and I stand up into Tommy’s arms. I hear his shaking breaths behind my ear. Taking advantage of their indecision, he leads me to the door.

“I’ll let you leave with her for now, but this isn’t over.”

Jack’s cold voice rings in my ears long after we step outside. I’m still in a state of shock when Tommy opens the car door for me, his face flushed with cold. The gunshots still pound in my ears, and I suddenly realize that I’ve witnessed two deaths.

“Tommy-what just happened?”

He takes a shuddering breath, the first sign of weakness he’s shown since I saw him. “Get inside.”

My body obeys his command before I can process his request, and I sink down in the seat, staring at my shaking hands but not feeling any of the terror. What’s happening to me? I don’t even feel the leather beneath my legs. A muffled sound barks at my ear, over and over, until finally-

He seizes my hand in his, squeezing hard enough that my knuckles protest in pain. The heat of his hand wraps around my skin and I feel it-I feel everything.

“They were going to kill me-they were-”

He pulls me into his chest briefly. “It’s okay, hon. You’re safe.”

“How can you say that?” I ask, blinded with tears. “He just said that it wasn’t over.”

“I know.” He pulls away with a violent look on his face, wrenching the gear in reverse as he starts the car.

I can’t keep my eyes off him the entire drive, wondering how he can look so calm when his boss just promised to kill us both.

Suddenly a car cuts us off and Tommy screams a stream of expletives as he lays on the horn. “Motherfucking, cock-sucking piece of shit. Learn how to fucking drive!” A vein bulges from the side of his neck, and I’m afraid to look at him.

My hands swallow my battered face as I bite into my lip, trying to stifle the sounds shaking from my chest. His hand lays on my upper back, stroking my skin back and forth as he lets out a long sigh.

“Just hang in there. We’re almost home.”

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Does he mean it?

I don’t feel safe until I’ve stepped into the warmth of Tommy’s apartment. Immediately he wraps his hands around my face, abandoning the calm pretense. I hiss from the painful contact.

The rawness in his voice surprises me. “Melanie, I’m so sorry. I was a fucking moron for letting you go like that.”