Page 103 of Wicked Roses
I scream and drop the mug in my hands. It crashes to the ground and breaks into jagged pieces of ceramic.
Only one face in the group is recognizable.
“Stitches, what the fuck!?” I yell. My arms wrap around myself as I become awkwardly aware of the fact that I’m half-dressed.
His eyes widen from behind his wire-framed glasses and he trips over himself trying to make it to me. He stands in front of me in some attempt to shield me from their view.
“So sorry! I couldn’t stop them!”
The men have descended upon Salvatore’s loft in a full-blown siege. They sweep through the place, overturning drawers and wrenching shelves off the wall. One asshole grabs a knife and thrusts it into the center of the leather sofa, splitting its cushions in half.
“Hey!” I scream, anger heating up my skin. I forget about my clothes situation and stomp over to confront him. “Stop destroying his stuff—who are you and what are you doing here? This is breaking and entering and destruction of private property!”
Yes, I’m ready to go into lawyer mode in nothing but Salvatore’s shirt and my panties. Though it’s clear these guys aren’t law enforcement.
The guy ignores me, pulling out the stuffing inside the sofa. I growl and take another step toward him. Stitches intervenes by putting himself between us.
“You can’t do nothing—there’s no stopping it. We have to stand down.”
“What do you mean? Care to explain this madness!?” I gesture around at the live destruction taking place all around us.
Some of the men have migrated into other parts of the loft. They’re in the kitchen throwing silverware to the floor and in the bedrooms rummaging through whatever is within reach. I hear Salt and Pepa’s indignant shrieks as they dive for hiding spots.
Stitches sighs and takes off his glasses to wipe them on his shirt. “These are Lucius’s men. They’re here to search Psycho’s place top to bottom.”
My next heartbeat is a punch to the chest. “Lucius? As in—”
“His father, the Don,” he finishes for me. He grimaces, his brow lined with sweat. “He’s not too happy with Psycho right now. We should’ve seen this coming.”
“Seen what coming? A gang of men randomly showing up one morning to destroy his loft?”
“I can’t explain right now. But… but Psycho… he’s got something Lucius wants.”
“WHERE IS IT?” A squat, muscular, bulldog of a man barks at Stitches. He snatches him by the front of his shirt and slams him into the wall behind us. He doesn’t care that he bangs Stitches’ head against the brick. “Where the fuck is he hiding it, huh? It’s not even here, is it?”
“You’re asking the wrong guy! Haven’t got a clue!”
The wannabe bulldog punches Stitches in the face, cracking his glasses. “Make sure you tell Psycho the Boss ain’t stopping ’til he turns it over.”
Just as quickly as they rained down on the loft, they’re rushing out. In their wake they leave the loft in disarray. Almost everything Salvatore owns has been destroyed. I haven’t been to the bedroom that’s mine, but I suspect my belongings aren’t much better.
I walk up to the broken lamp they’ve knocked to the floor and carefully pick it up.
“Stitches, tell me what’s going on, and tell me now.”
“I told you. Psycho has something Lucius wants.”
“You know where it is, don’t you? Whatever it is. You were lying.”
“He’d never keep it here.” Stitches shrugs and squints at his cracked glasses. “Can’t believe he fucked up my eyes. This is my only pair.”
I wander the rest of the loft in disbelief. It really does look like a stampede of wild animals passed through. They even destroyed the electronics—the TVs are smashed in and Salvatore’s laptop has been snapped in half.
“My phone,” I gasp, digging it out from under my overturned luggage.
They threw it on the bed and emptied out anything inside. That must’ve been after some asshole crushed my phone.
I call Salvatore, but it goes directly to his voice mail.