Ruthless People (Ruthless People 1)

He pointed at the crumbling wall, which now exposed us. “Did that look like weakness to you, or are you so blinded by the thought of power that you have forgotten everything I have taught you?”

I sighed deeply, dropping the gun on the table before I pulled the trigger. “Everything I did today, you would have done as well.”

“Yes, but I would have made sure it didn’t hurt my wife first. Congratulations, you have proven to Vance and his brothers that you are just as merciless as they are. You won the pride of your men, and you pulled off a job no one will tie to you,” he snapped angrily. “But if you had heeded my words and tried to make peace with Melody instead, you would have used your access to the Giovanni files and did your homework on what happened to Melody and her mother to bring you both together in the first place.”

I froze, not understanding what Aviela Giovanni had to do with this. She had died years ago.

“Think about it, then go back to her and grovel.” With those words, he left the room.

Taking a seat at one of the only computers not blown to the heavens, I pulled up the very files he was bitching about, and my blood froze.

MARCH 19: FLIGHT 307 CRASHES INTO THE ATLANTIC OCEAN; ONE SURVIVOR, SIX-YEAR-OLD MELODY NICCI GIOVANNI.

“Fuck,” I murmured to myself as I read the title, but it only got worse.

NOTES:

According to young Melody’s memory, there were four men on the plane who stood up mid-flight and started shooting and demanding Aviela Giovanni, wife to the Boss, to show herself. Mrs. Giovanni, with the help of her bodyguard, placed Melody into one of the overhead compartments right before they were both shot and killed. The men, who were later identified by the V tattoo on their arms, were Valero. After the death of Mrs. Giovanni, they proceeded to kill everyone on the plane. It was due to her tears and whimpering that the men found her. Landing the plane on the surface of the sea, they filled the chambers with smoke before dragging young Melody onto an awaiting boat.

Melody explained that, because she was praying, they decided they would let God decide her fate and threw her back into the ocean holding on to a piece of wreckage. As they drove away, they told her that if she survived to join the Valero when she was older.

The Boss found his daughter the next morning clinging on to one of the broken wings of the plane. The plane was torched beyond recognition, and the body of Mrs. Giovanni was never recovered.

Melody was alive, but suffered from hypothermia, and developed extreme Achluophobia, which she still has not recovered from. With therapy, it might lessen with time.

COVER-UP: PLANE CRASH DUE TO ENGINE FAILURE.

“Fuck.” I sighed running my hands through my hair. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Mother of fucking fuck.”

My mind was so messed up. I couldn’t think straight, all I could see was a younger version of my fiancée, clinging to a wing in the middle of the fucking Atlantic Ocean.

In the dark. Just how I fucking left her. “Fuck.”

My father was right. I truly needed to grovel, but even that wouldn’t change things. It wouldn’t be enough. Nothing would be enough, and I had nothing left to give.

I had no idea I was even moving until I found myself standing outside my bedroom, dreading the thought of going in. My bedroom was my sanctuary, and now, it was going to be place of my death. But, I needed to man up and deal with the consequences of my actions.

Inside, she stood at the foot of my bed, dressed in gray with a gun and a knife strapped to her thigh. She seemed to be taking it all in, from the dark reds and gold of my bed and walls, to the wooden floors, large windows, lion-skin rug, piano in the corner, and flat screen plastered on the wall. She turned around slowly, and I really wished I could hear her thoughts. It wasn’t a woman friendly room. However it was wasn’t meant to be.

“We had a machine onboard recording their conversations. It’s now somewhere in the ocean. A team and I will be getting it back,” she told me as she tried to leave the room, but I grabbed hold of her arm first.

“I can go,” I said as she glared up at me. “I should go because it’s my fault. I’m sorry. For everything, I . . .”

“Look who finally did a background check. If you want to come, I can’t stop you.” She ripped her arm from my grasp. “You are everything I thought you would be—a child in a grown man’s body. You’re brash and wild, and you don’t seem to get the gravity of our situation. You don’t impress me, Liam Callahan. So get that poor little girl out of your head, because I am not her.”

Closing the small space between us, I glared down into her brown eyes, wanting to rip them from her oval-shaped face.

“I am brash? I am wild? So says the woman who blasted her way into a private meeting nearly killing her future in-laws. You do not know me, Giovanni. Do not be fooled by my wit or charm. It has taken all my strength not to kill you.”

“What wit? What charm? You’re nothing but talk, and I do not need to know you, Callahan. I just need to marry you.” With that she held her head high and left.

I would not bow down. She would not bow down.

The gravity of our situation was starting to eat away at me. I needed this to work. The Irish needed this to fucking work. But how the hell was I going to handle a lifetime of her—a hot-blooded Italian Boss?

Step one, accept she was a damn boss.

Step two, hide all the knives, guns, and maybe the pillows, too.

NINE

“One murder makes a villain,

millions a hero.

Numbers sanctify, my good fellow.”

~ Monsieur Verdoux

MELODY

There was something about Liam Callahan. He was immature, rowdy, and impatient. Those were just the kinder things I could think of, and yet I knew he smelled like cinnamon, spices, and apples. I had taken the time to reflect on his scent, even enjoyed it. Ugh. On top of that, I enjoyed how he looked up close. The way he flexed his muscles out of habit and cracked his knuckles when he was tense. I had noticed that in just two days. I had a whole arsenal of men under my control and many were attractive in some way, shape, or form, and yet there was something about Liam Callahan.

When he stepped out of his room, he was dressed in dark pants paired with a black and green vest with the letter C on the breast. He looked surprised to see me, as if he wasn’t sure why I was here. On his arms were bruises and marks from our fight. The idiot should have treated them, but instead, he had to be a man’s man and leave them.

“Took you long enough, Callahan. Did you need to fix your hair?”

He glared at me before smirking. “It’s called sex hair for a reason. That’s the only way I fix it. You done being a bitch?”

Fedel came down the hall, before I could respond.

“Ma’am, the helicopter is ready. Monte is fine, and we are ready to aid,” he said, waiting for orders.

“I already contacted Monte, and he’ll tell you what to do.” His eyes widened, knowing what I meant. He just lost his title as right-hand man, the fucker. “Next time, Fedel, when I tell you to fall on your sword, do it without hesitation. You waste my time and insult my intelligence with a statement like, ‘we’re outnumbered.’ That is all.”

He nodded and left quickly, leaving Mr. Sex Hair and me alone. Liam stared at Fedel’s with narrowed eyes then turning his glower on me.