Awakening Read online

  Evelyn Montgomery

  Awakening

  Copyright © 2020 by Evelyn Montgomery

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

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  To everyone who has ever suffered.

  “And if today, all you did was hold yourself together, I’m proud of you.”

  -Unknown

  Contents

  Foreword

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  Foreword

  Gaslighting:

  Manipulate (someone) by psychological means into questioning their own sanity.

  Awakening:

  An act or moment of becoming suddenly aware of something for the first time.

  Chapter 1

  Justin

  3 years ago

  Italy

  I lift the bourbon to my lips and take a sip as my eyes scan the bar. I see our target, fucking Piero Bianchini, a rat if there ever was one, but as my gaze scans to the door, it opens, and another couple walk through, the tension in my shoulders grows stronger knowing this is far from over since Leonardo hasn’t even shown his damn face yet.

  I set down my glass and check my phone. Nothing. Rolling my eyes, I sit up a little straighter as I grab the tumbler again and my grip on the glass tightens when I notice someone getting up from Bianchi’s table. I don’t have much time. We don’t have much time. If Leo doesn’t get here soon we’ll lose him, and it took us three damn weeks to track him down at that.

  One of Bianchini’s friends excuses himself for the restroom and I breathe out a sigh of relief, motioning for the bartender to pour me another drink as my eyes once again dart back to the front door. Nothing. Fucking hell.

  I push back in my seat and light a cigarette. I don’t smoke, or at least that is what I keep telling myself. But something about the hell I’ve been through, the shit I’ve gotten myself into, and the fear I might never escape it all has made me pick up this nasty habit. For now, that is.

  Right, keep telling yourself lies Gatz!

  I take a drag and hold it in as I watch the bastard across the room. He laughs at something someone at the table says before looking up my way and meeting my eyes. Exhaling, I take my drink from the bar top and bring it to my lips. I don’t take a sip, just hold it there as Bianchini turns, holds my stare, and then whispers something in the ear of the person sitting next to him making my blood turn cold.

  The door to the bar opens and my eyes dart back as three men walk in. The two in front I don’t recognize, but the one in back, I’d know that son-of-a-bitch anywhere.

  Leo lowers his head and takes off his hat as he proceeds to make his way into the room. He stops at a few bar stools, hugging and kissing the cheeks of a few people I would consider strangers, but he obviously knows them well. It’s his fucking job to, recently being promoted to Capo for one of the highest ranking mob families in Rome. His eyes lift when he pulls the third one, a woman, in for a hug and they lock with mine.

  Grabbing my drink, I make my way towards the side corner of the bar and stare at the jukebox. Taking another long drag off my smoke, I can’t help but let my mind wonder why and how this place still has a novelty item such as this in it. I allow this small break in my thoughts only for a moment as the stress eating me whole the longer I’ve been forced to wait for the man who finally made an appearance behind me slowly dissipates. But as I set my drink down on the glass and start scanning the listed songs my ear trains to the man in question, Leonardo, as he addresses the man at the table, the main reason why we are here.

  “Bianchini, ciao,” I hear Leonardo say. My free hand reaches into my pocket and starts the recorder I always carry with me and I won’t lie and say my fingers don’t tremble, just a little, as I press record. “Tua madre come sta?” I listen for a moment, hearing them exchange pleasant hellos and take another sip off my glass.

  I met Leonardo on assignment when I took a job at La Repubblica after my last tour as a Seal. Covering a court case for Luigi Lombardi, a mob boss who walked away a free man when everyone in that damn court room knew he shouldn’t, I saw Leo lingering in the hallways, studying me and the other reporters every move the entire court case, which took three whole damn weeks. The other journalists there were quick to tear the Lombardi family apart in their weekly reporting. Most of them also ended up six-feet under the following week after being found beaten, murdered, dismembered, and it doesn’t take a damn rocket scientist to figure out who was to blame. And those were the lucky bastards. Some they haven’t found yet, and I doubt they ever will. But like always, even with a damn trial going on, the government turned its head and showed once again just how much power really does lie in the hands of the fucking mafia.

  Me, I kept my fucking mouth shut unless I needed to report a fact and didn’t spin the hell out of the story either. Call it being new to Italy. Call it knowing what the fuck I was getting into. Regardless, I had no intention of ending up a dead man, and still don’t, which is why meetings like this cause me to lose some of my nerve as my shaking hand comes up and grabs my bourbon to take another sip.

  After that court case, I quickly worked my way up to Editor and even did some international corresponding for the New York Times when needed. None of which involved the work of the family or the man standing behind me. Once I filled my seat as Editor in Chief, Leonardo, who had recently made his new position of Capo with the Lombardi family, paid me a nice visit.

  You see it isn’t any fucking breaking news story that the Lombardi and Nitti families have been fighting for power in Rome since fuck, as far back as many can remember. My predecessor wanted nothing to do with getting his hands dirty or helping keep order in the damn Italian streets. One reason why he no longer holds his position, and another reason why he was found shortly after my promotion shot through the head in broad daylight in the Italian Forum.

  Me? I’d like to keep my fucking head, even if it means getting my damn hands dirty from time to time. Besides, for my first job, when Leonardo explained only what I assume is half of what he knew, I found myself oddly game to help in any way I could. The target? A pedophile, who preys on young girls and boys before he guts them and sends pieces home to their parents is no fucking devil the world can’t afford to live without.

  Most people think the work the mob does goes against all rules in modern society. Me? I know the man behind me and he doesn’t do anything without reason. Making him more of a vigilante in my eyes.

  The first job, I was hired to use my information and resources to track down our target. And even though it took a little more work than I thought it would, I finally succeeded and even led Leo and his men to where the bastard was hiding out. It should bother me that I can still remember his screams as they slowly ripped him apart alive, but truth be told, I have no fucking remors
e for a monster like that. Something that plagues me even more when I think about it, and so I don’t allow myself the pleasure often.

  That was a little over a year ago, and I’ve been helping out the family ever since. But me? I’m just a damn associate. Someone that works with the family, helps in any way they can to bring justice. So what is my role in all of this and the damn meeting taking place behind me? Just like it has been every other damn time I get a call, to record a private conversation, write up a front page story, and help the family take down another damn criminal that stands in their way from their ultimate goal, domination. The real dirty work they do themselves, I just help put them behind bars. That is, the ones that don’t end up like the first man I tracked, missing without any fucking trace. Vanished. Their name never to be spoke of again with just the memory of it leaving a bad taste in anyone’s damn mouth.

  Bianchini? He fucking deserves more than just jail time. From what I was told, the bastard kidnapped a barely legal girl, raped her, and then left her for dead in a back alley. What he didn’t know, that girl was one of the Lombardi soldier’s daughters. Really fucking sucks to be him now, doesn’t it? If it had been a capo or boss’s daughter, fucker would already be six-feet under. But, the soldier is new and his full allegiance isn’t proven yet, so an Italian jail cell it is, because the only thing on Bianchini’s side right now is that fact that he is one of Nitti’s top Capos. The Lombardi families sworn enemies. And even though I know the family would like nothing more than to take down Vincent Nitti, I also know there is a bigger plan they are working on and offing Bianchini now would ruin it.

  I hear a few of the men shuffle out of the booth behind me as Leonardo sits down to join Bianchini. Leo’s sigh is contagious as I wait for them to talk and time draws out way too long as my ear trains to every clink of a glass, every swallow of liquor and every voice in the crowd waiting for what comes next.

  “That girl has been giving me fucking eyes since I walked in the front door,” I hear Bianchini say just as I turn and look their way and watch as he palms his dick under the table. “But her marito, won’t fucking walk away long enough for me to take her.”

  I watch as Leo throws his arms over the back of the booth before my eyes drift to both men’s soldier’s posted at nearby tables and the front door. “Marito?” I hear Leo question, knowing exactly what he is going to say next because it is the same damn thing I’m thinking. “That girl isn’t old enough to have a fucking husband.”

  Bianchini scoffs before leaning forward and ashing his cigar in the glass tray in the center of the table. The action makes me take another drag off my own damn smoke and tell myself once again I’m going to fucking quit, after this shit is all over that is. If it ever will be. The thought makes me sick, almost more so than the fucking thing I am smoking, and so I quickly find myself snuffing it out in a nearby ash tray.

  “Makes them more fun, capire? You can fuck them with no damn strings attached, Amico. If they want you to or not. Who the hell believes a little girl over a woman when they say they’ve been raped? Little ragazza’s (girls) they’re always just trying to get attention when what they really want is a man to fucking show them who is boss. The struggle makes it more satisfying.”

  The pit of my stomach turns at his words and makes me want to unleash hell on him myself as I stand in the corner and nurse my drink, but I don’t. I can’t blow my fucking cover. All this time no one knows who the source is at La Repubblica, and I am not about to ruin the secret now.

  “Bianchini,” I hear Leo tisk. “We’ve been over this. Luigi, hell fucking Vincent warned you, you take something that is not willingly given, there will be consequences.”

  “Like hell,” Bianchini says as I lift my drink to my lips and my gaze snaps up to watch the men at the door. None of his men have given any notice to me, and Leo’s are aware of just who I am and what I always do so I know there won’t be any problem there. When I hear shuffling at the table, I turn my attention back to the reason we are here, pray we get what we need fast, and wait for my cue.

  Leo rises and buttons his suit jacket. “Warnings. Consequences.” He repeats as he picks up his drink a waitress only just moments before brought to the table. He takes a long sip and studies the man in front of him over the rim. “Little blonde girls don’t like to be fucked and then dumped in a back alley, no matter what your dick says, Bianchini. And we’re all tired of covering up your damn sloppy fetishes when what Luigi and I should be doing, especially when this shit happens in our streets, is handing you over to the fucking authorities.”

  “You wouldn’t dare,” Bianchini seethes. “That girl was fucking prime. She wanted it, I could tell she did. It wasn’t my fault she slipped and fell, busting her damn head open and leaving her pretty much dead to the world.”

  Leo throws his glass across the room. The shattering noise making everyone look up as he quickly leans across the table and grabs Bianchini by the collar. All men stand guard, hands on their pistols, ready for a damn fight depending on just what goes down right now. “But it was your fucking fault that you continued to fuck her even after she was unconscious, Amico,” Leo sternly says glaring at the man as he holds him in a death grip. Bianchini tries to hide his tremble as his lips curl into a sinister grin, but I see it. The fear. The knowledge that his life is in the hands of the man holding him hostage for the hell of a sin he committed. “That you violated her, took shit from her she didn’t want to give. Sodomized her, a 16 year old girl, whose father is one of my fucking soldiers.”

  “She can’t prove what she doesn’t remember,” I hear the man across from Leo grit out as he holds him tight. “No one can.”

  Leo pushes him back in frustration and I feel just as much damn tension he does knowing we don’t have everything we need yet to fully get the girl justice she deserves for all this sick bastard did to her. Leo turns to walk away and it takes a moment before I hear Bianchini continue.

  “Her tight ass was better than any pussy I’ve ever had, Amico. Maybe you should give it a try some time.”

  Before I can even blink Leo’s gun is pulled and aimed at Bianchini’s head. The man in the booth flinches right as his men pull their own weapons protecting their capo, and I hold my breath seeing Leo’s men do the same. Setting my glass down on a table to my left, I watch as the patrons in the bar gasp and scurry away for protection all while I rest my hand right above the pistol I have strapped to my hip.

  “Consequences, Bianchini,” I hear Leo say before he pauses, cocks his weapon, and then slowly gives me the signal.

  Putting on his hat and tipping back the brim, I take my cue and walk over to the bar top and pay my bill. The action of something normal happening in the room when all that is going on around everyone here is anything but normal causes some tension to leave the space. The bartender steps forward and accepts my cash as I shoot back the last drop from my cup. Bystanders ease back into their chairs as Leo lowers his gun and I begin to make my way to the front door. “No more fucking warnings, Amico.”

  I push out into the late afternoon sun and breathe for the first time in about a damn hour. Beginning to walk across the street, I fight the urge to look back behind me when I hear the door to the bar open. I wait until I reach the other side, and then stop, pausing for a moment while I light another cigarette.

  “Fucking Bianchini,” I hear Leo hiss out a few seconds later as he takes a step up besides. “Did you get it?” He asks, as I light the end of my smoke and then watch out of the corner of my eye as he does the same. I simply give him one nod before exhaling and putting my lighter back in my pocket.

  “Good!” He exclaims before pulling his hat lower and beginning to walk away. “Bring your ass to the house around 8, Luca. Luigi has something he wants to run past you.”

  To the newspaper I am Justin Gatz, editor in chief, and a man who hides behind the desk, never showing my damn face in public. But on the streets, to Leo, the Lombardi’s, I’m Luca Siciliano, an associate who wishe
s to make soldier and climb the ranks, trying to prove himself in a dark underworld I never saw myself being a part of. It’s the only justification I have for being on any job when any of the family’s men get to asking questions.

  The only one who knows my true identity is Leo, and why he has gone through so many damn measures to keep it a secret, erasing every damn thing that would point back to me after our first meeting, I will never ever know.

  I nod in agreement, even though he can’t see me and then turn, walking down the street in the opposite direction. I’ll do whatever Leo says because I owe the man behind me my damn life, and we both fucking know it.

  Georgia

  Present Day

  My hand trembles just like in that damn bar three years ago, as I pick up the tumbler in front of me and take a sip of bourbon. The space is dark. The people around me oblivious as to the hell I’m fighting.

  The bourbon burns as it slides down my throat and I enjoy it, hoping it ignites a fire and takes away the ache in my damn soul for what is happening and how fucking hopeless both Rose and I feel. Setting the glass down, my head falls to my hands as the ache inside reaches a piercing high, making me feel like I’m about to break in two.

  What the hell do we do now?

  For the first time in a long time I don’t know and shit, that makes everything so much fucking worse. I am used to knowing. Used to putting together facts, quotes, writing fucking front page stories that bring justice and uncovering the hard truths. But this damn one, the alarming fact Rose and I have both been running from, where the hell Liam is and how we are going to get him back, it’s something I never saw coming.

  Blinded by the unexplained. Pushed back into my own fucking darkness because I couldn’t protect him. The only way to justice is blurred by my own fucking feelings I told myself not to have. How I promised myself I wouldn’t get too close, wouldn’t feel, but then let myself go back on everything anyways because of her.