Blizzard: (The Brotherhood Journals Book One) Page 2

  Rose gasped.

  Good. I hope now she realized the type of people she was fighting for. The type of family she had chosen. The Brothers by Blood weren’t perfect by any means, but we had respect and we had dignity.

  “Your club took one of my family,” Gio lowered his voice. His anger was gone. Now he was the perfect calm and calculating soldier his father had raised. His emotions were no longer stopping him. “Now I’m going to take one of theirs. Blood for blood.”

  My body tensed, preparing for the impact.

  “No!” Rose screamed and threw herself at her cousin. My body reacted instantly. She didn’t see it, but I reached out for her. Everything inside me, my instincts telling me that I needed to protect her.

  That simple movement saved my life.

  “Uncle, I’m fine.”

  “People who are fine don’t up and leave without an explanation, Rosalie.” I sighed hearing my Uncle Anthony use my full name, he had refused to call me anything else. Anthony and my cousins had tried so hard to bring me into their family and make me feel welcome.

  Sometimes it was comforting. Since I could remember I’d always prayed for a big family and here I was thrown into one of the largest and most powerful Italian families within the United States.

  But it was different.

  It wasn’t what I’d imagined.

  “I’m just—”

  “Rosalie. We are family. We work out our problems together.” The tone of his voice was almost scolding.

  I hung my head, I knew if I didn’t turn around and head home that he would send someone out looking for me.

  “Okay…” I sighed, “…I’ll head home now.”

  I stared up at the sky. You could barely see it between the buildings that stretched high into the clouds. It was beginning to get dark and the once white clouds were now shaded with dark gray and threatening to storm down on me.

  People bustled down the sidewalk on their way home from work or just trying to escape before they got soaked. I followed suit and dived into the stairwell that led to the subway.

  I’d gotten pretty good at navigating the city over the last couple months. I’d only had to call my cousin Rico to come rescue me three or four times. He thought it was hilarious every single time. I’d learned quickly that he was the best one to call. My other cousin Celia was no help at all. She didn’t leave the house unless it was for school or a shopping spree. She was spoilt and everyone knew it, including her.

  Giovanni, the eldest of them all, I hadn’t spoken to since he shot Blizzard.

  He tried once, but I couldn’t handle it. Every time I looked at him all I could see was Blizzard’s blood spilling onto the broken concrete.

  Gio was a soldier in his father’s mafia army. He saw through feelings and emotions and had been taught to only do what needed to be done to protect his family and their business. He was close to being completely emotionless, and even though we weren’t close, my heart hurt to think about the person he was becoming.

  I pushed my way through the busy underground.

  A girl with long blonde hair playing her guitar sat on the ground against a concrete wall. She was beautiful and young, possibly still a teenager but her music was entrancing. I watched her for a few minutes. Just as I was about to walk over and throw some change into the guitar case she had sitting at her feet, a couple of thugs with their pants hanging low approached her. I frowned as they stood over her, taunting her as they started grabbing at the small amount of money she had collected.

  She scrambled to her feet and pushed at them, yelling for them to get lost. One of the boys pushed her back against the solid wall and the air left her lungs.

  “Hey!” I yelled, my feet carrying me to them before I even knew what I was doing. I raised my foot and kicked the boy who was crouched at her guitar case. He fell to the side and coins scattered over the ground. “Leave her alone.” My voice didn’t shake, the adrenaline in my veins holding it steady.

  I thought someone else might stop to help but people just moved past the altercation, looking the other way as though they just didn’t want to know.

  I felt anger building inside me. I knew what it was like to have no one stand up for me. People looked on, but never made an attempt to help. They were selfish. They always just assumed someone else would do it. Leave it for someone else to deal with.

  “Fuck off, bitch.” Suddenly the second boy was in my face sneering down at me.

  “Leave her alone,” I answered him, holding my shoulders back and refusing to be intimidated.

  “Look at you, little white girl trying to be a hero.” He grinned, a chipped and broken tooth staring back at me.

  I felt it building inside of me. I was sick—sick and fucking tired—of people looking down on me, assuming that I couldn’t protect myself. I was tired of people looking at me and assuming that they could take advantage.

  I wouldn’t let someone take advantage of me again. I wasn’t going to let myself be walked over and destroyed.

  My father had crushed me, and I had taken it thinking that it was what I deserved, that I had to fight for his love. But you know what, I didn’t have to fight because I knew now that I deserved more than that.

  I swung my fist, knowing that I was going to catch the little punk off guard but before it could connect with his jaw a thick hand was wrapped around my wrist, holding it in place.

  The thieving little assholes stumbled back from the confrontation with glaring eyes but they didn't back down. I knew exactly who was standing beside me without even having to turn my head. My uncle was well known within the city, especially with the local gangs. Obviously these kids hadn’t seen New York’s list of ‘people who not to fuck with.’

  “Problem, Rosalie?” Angelo’s voice sent shivers down my spine.

  Angelo ran my uncle’s business on this side of the city. He was tall, sturdy, and sexy as hell. He was also single and actively looking for a wife so he could marry and have children—someone to pass on his legacy to.

  The problem?

  He wasn’t the man I wanted.

  The young blonde girl stood plastered to the wall, her eyes moving back and forth between the two wannabe gangsters and us.

  “Give the girl back her money,” Angelo said clearly and emphatically, the prominent Italian accent in his voice making his words all that much fiercer.

  The younger, obviously more stupid of the boys stood tall, crossing his arms across his chest with a look of defiance. “What you going to do about it, business man?” He lifted the hem of his shirt, revealing a handgun that was tucked into the waistband of his boxers.

  The noise of a train filled the station, the breeze blowing against my skin as it began to pull to a stop. People rushed around us, oblivious to the paltry confrontation. Angelo swiftly slipped me to the side, next to the blonde girl. His thick hand reached out and grabbed the thug around the throat. He pulled him close, and his mouth moved but I couldn’t hear what he was saying because of the noise of the train and the crowd.

  He threw the boy backward but he managed to catch himself. He looked over at me with wide eyes before grabbing his friend by the shirt and dragging him off down the platform.

  Angelo watched them leave before he turned to me. “Let’s go, Rosalie.”

  I took a deep breath and dug my hand into my pocket. I pulled out whatever cash was in there and reached for the young girl who was still staring at us in shock. I grabbed her hand and forced the money inside.

  Not stopping to talk, I jogged after Angelo, who’d already began walking in the direction of the exit. I followed him back outside where, just as I had suspected, it had started to pour with rain.

  There was a dark tinted car sitting at the curb and Angelo drew the door open and waited for me to climb in before following suit. I stared out the window, waiting for the lecture that I knew was coming.

  “Why would you do something so stupid?” Angelo asked casually, but I could hear the sharpness to his tone.
“Gang members are dangerous. They’re young and stupid and that makes them extremely unpredictable.”

  “You were there. It’s fine,” I told him, feeling like I was a little girl who’d just been caught sneaking out at night.

  “And if I hadn’t been?”

  I snorted. “No point in thinking about what could’ve been. Doesn’t make sense.”

  We sat in silence for a few minutes, swaying side to side as the driver weaved through New York City traffic like he was trying out for NASCAR.

  “How do you grow if you never consider the mistakes you’ve made in the past?” His question made my back straighten.

  I turned in my seat so I could meet his eyes. They watched me carefully, and with amusement as if he was enjoying the reaction I was giving him. “How do you move on if you’re constantly dwelling on all the shit you’ve fucked up?” I shot back at him with a little less class.

  “Sounds like you speak from experience,” he noted, his eyes watching me carefully.

  “Don’t bullshit me, Angelo.” I screwed up my nose. “Don’t act like my uncle didn’t inform you of what happened.”

  “Touchë, toroso mio,” he said with a slight smirk.

  The truth was that I did dwell. The choices I’d made during the last year hung heavily on my mind and constantly made me feel sick to my stomach. I desperately wished that there was a way I could make things right. I’d allowed myself to be manipulated and used.

  Somewhere along the way, I’d lost myself.

  I’d lost the ability to tell right from wrong—and love from hate.

  I’d lost friends, family, and all of my pride and self-respect.

  But out of everything, it was knowing that I’d lost him that almost broke me.

  Almost.

  I wasn’t giving up just yet.

  If there were a way to fix the things I had done, I would take it in the blink of an eye, regardless of the consequences.

  “Brother, wake up, man.”

  I could hear the voice through the fuzz in my head, but I was so exhausted. My eyes fought to stay closed. Someone shook my shoulder and I startled. My neck ached, my head ached, and my whole body screamed at me to get some proper rest.

  “Blizz…” I rubbed at my eyes, the blur beginning to diminish and Optimus, my best friend, and president, stood next to me. “How’s he doing?”

  Reality began to dawn and it was more than sobering.

  He had overdosed. And with the amount of alcohol that was in his system and his aggressive nature, they were smart enough to keep him sleeping while they figured out what the hell was going on.

  “When they told me he’d popped too many pills, I was thinking fuck off. This stubborn bastard would never leave this earth voluntarily. He’s too much of an asshole for that.” I told Op as I watched my father’s face. It was the first time in years I’d seen it without a scowl. He was never happy to see me. Whenever I visited, he’d always walked out with a ‘What do you want?’ even if he was expecting me.

  It was never a friendly welcome.

  Hands was a hard ass.

  “They know what’s wrong then?” Op asked, leaning back against the wall opposite me.

  Shrugging, I pushed my chair back and stretched up, loosening my cramped muscles. I wasn’t even sure how long I’d been there. One of the old timers from the club had gone around to visit yesterday and found him passed out on the floor.

  I hadn’t left since they brought him in.

  “The nurse looked a little nervous when she explained that the doctor needed to speak to me. But that could’ve been because of my dashing good looks.” I wiggled my eyebrows and Op cracked a small smile. “Chel didn’t come with you?”

  “Your dad scares the shit out of her.”

  Blunt as always.

  “Scares the shit out of me, too,” I said, picking up the glass of water on the stand next to the bed and throwing back the whole thing.

  There was a light tap on the door.

  Op raised an eyebrow. “You want me to go while you chat with the doctor?”

  I shook my head as I called for the doctor to come in. I wouldn’t admit it, but I needed all the support I could get right now. This was all new territory for me. My Dad was the biggest asshole on the planet, but I’d never seen him broken down—ever.

  The doctor—a short, balding man—and a nurse who looked like she could be on the cover of Playboy came in quietly.

  The nurse eyed me up and down, and I just knew that after this was all done, I would need a release. And she was going to be it.

  “What’s up, doc?”

  He wasn’t amused by my joke but gave me a small smile anyway.

  “This is a bit more serious than we first thought, mister…”

  “Blizzard.” The doctor frowned at my club name and made a quick note on his paper before he continued. “Mister Blizzard. Your father here has Korsakoff’s Syndrome. This syndrome is part of the early onset dementia family, and is usually associated with heavy alcohol consumption over a long period of time.”

  And that was my Dad in a nutshell. He was a drinker—he was the drinker. And apparently now the drinking had taken its toll.

  I scrubbed at my face with my hand, it was unshaven and longer than I usually kept it because of how much time I’d been cooped up in this fucking hospital.

  “Can you explain?” I asked slowly, trying not to let my temper or frustration override.

  Nodding, the doctor flipped over a few pages on his clipboard. “The reason your father overdosed on his medication was because he couldn’t remember taking it. His short term memory is severely affected, so he just kept taking them until he passed out not knowing that he had just taken his pill time and time and time again.” His eyes continued to scan the page. They never looked up at me. I didn’t know if that was because he was too scared to or because he was bored with having to explain this whole thing to me.

  “So he has dementia?” I asked cautiously, looking over to Optimus to check that I wasn’t the only one who had heard that. Op’s eyes were wide as he stared at the doc in shock.

  The doctor frowned, almost as though he’d just explained everything to me and I was still asking him stupid questions. “It’s a part of the dementia family. Your dad is only sixty. It’s not a common age for dementia patients, but it does happen. There’s a chance his circumstances could improve with a lot of hard work—”

  “You’re saying he needs to stay sober aren’t you?” I queried.

  “That among other things. He will need shots of Thiamine and ongoing support.”

  I choked on a laugh and his eyes shot up in complete shock. “He’s going to tell you to get fucked. He’s going to yell and scream and fucking throw shit.”

  He seemed to consider that for a moment. “Maybe we should suggest a care facility if you don’t think you’re capable of giving him the support he needs.”

  “You’re gonna have to lock him up and throw away the key if you think you have any kind of chance of getting him off the alcohol,” I told him bluntly, ignoring the cheap shot at me not caring enough for my father. The bastard had treated me like shit and I still made the effort to visit him once a week and risk a fist to my face.

  The doctors could deal with this shit—like he needed another reason to hate me.

  “I’ll make arrangements. It could take a month or more to find him a place and I can’t guarantee it will be nearby.”

  I looked down at my dad, the man who’d spent more time drunk than he did sober, and always loved to kick me while I was down.

  Did I care if he wasn’t in the same town?

  Everything inside me told me no, I shouldn’t care. Not after what he put me through growing up. But then I think about how my mom left us and a wave of loyalty crashes on top of me. The need to not be like her was so strong.

  “We’ll cross that road when we come to it,” I told the doctor who nodded, satisfied with my answer and promptly made a beeline for the door.
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  The nurse, on the other hand, took her time swaying her hips and flipping her hair. She turned to give me a quick wink over her shoulder as she disappeared out of the room. She was hot but my cock didn’t even twitch at the show of desperation.

  “Bitch wants it.” Op chuckled from his spot across the room.

  “I’ll give it to her later,” I murmured, getting up and walking over to the sink to get another glass of water.

  “You won’t touch the club whores, but the nursing staff is okay?” his question was a serious one, I could tell, even though he tried to cover it with an amused tone.

  I chugged the glass and set it down on the counter. “We haven’t had any new club girls for a while now. Getting sick of the same ole, same ole.”

  “You mean you’ve had a little glimpse of something better and there’s no going back now?” I wanted to smack him, throw my fist in his stupidly smug face.

  But he was right.

  Rose had shown me something else, another world I guess you could say. She was gorgeous and funny and she had shown self-respect, meaning she wouldn’t just give it up to any brother that asked.

  I don’t put down the club girls. They do what they do, they’re paid to do it, and most of them are kind of cool. But I wanted someone I could call my own. Someone that was sexy and smart and that I didn’t have to share with my brothers. I wanted to own her, mind, body, and soul.

  Unfortunately for me, the devil had already claimed her, and I was left wondering how something so dark and deceptive could hide itself inside such beauty.

  My nose twitched, the smell of the hospital room causing my stomach to swirl.

  I’d been lucky to only spend a couple days in the hospital after the day Rose had shown up at the clubhouse. The bullet had only knicked my arm. What had done me in, was when I fell. I’d cracked my head open on the concrete sidewalk and knocked myself out. And let me tell you, head wounds bleed like a motherfucker.

  The boys all thought I’d been shot in the head when they had rushed out, none of them could understand how I was still alive.

  I’d given myself a concussion and a few stitches, but better than a bullet to the chest.