Dancing with the Mob: A Dark Mafia Romance Two-Book Collection Read online

  I had sat there with Rich Little and Agent Gull, spinning them a detailed account of how things were really going with the Leone family. A completely fabricated story to suggest a few reasons as to why Mia might have been kidnapped. I exaggerated the stuff with Mikey, but not a whole lot, to include some Russian drug dealers. I thought that might interest the FBI. What I didn’t tell them, was that I had no idea why, or even who had taken Mia. Because I didn’t know. I couldn’t find out, either, if the FBI kept getting in the way. I had to shake them for good.

  I’d had my suspicions, but the phone call from Rich to Black in the security room at the Leone estate had convinced me. There was more than one mole in the Leone estate, and I had to play a few rounds of whack-a-mole to get clear of it, to start all over again.

  Why Rich? I thought I could count on you? What did they do to you? What have they got hanging over you to make you such an asshole all of a sudden?

  I was powerless at the time to shoot my way out of an FBI building. And it was definitely true that I wouldn’t have stood a chance against whoever had Mia, trying to rescue her all on my own. I had gone into the chopper, devised the rescue plan, to put myself in their hands, so I could convince them that Don Leone was in big trouble with somebody and then have him killed while I was still there with them, just to prove my point.

  Rich and Agent Gull sat across from me; I could tell neither of them were buying any of the bullshit I was peddling.

  “So you’re trying to tell me, that Mia Leone has no idea whatsoever about her father’s alleged activity in the criminal underworld. And that she only speaks with him on the phone, while he has a near-majority share stake in a company with a net worth of nearly eight billion dollars?” Gull asked, dryly. He looked like he hadn’t slept much either.

  “That’s correct,” I said, sounding matter of fact. It was partly true, anyway. It was a strange arrangement that they had, and even I still didn’t know the ins and outs of the family business, financially.

  Gull sighed, holding his head back and running his hands through his hair, making a pair of fists behind his skull in frustration. His jaw tightened, then relaxed. I was waiting for bad cop to come in.

  Gull stood up and left, leaving Rich and I alone again. Rich was smirking, but there was still concern in his eyes. I looked up at him suddenly, catching him off guard.

  “What do they have over you, Rich? Why are you doing this?” He reddened slightly, looking down into a large cradle he’d made with his palms facing up, his exhaustion starting to show as well.

  Rich looked away, considering his words. I could see he’d made an equally shitty deal with himself, like the one he’d made with the feds. Unlike me, he had to believe in his own bullshit.

  “Just tell them what they want to know, Jack. They aren’t interested in Leone’s mob stuff. Really, they’re not. They just want whoever would want to try and snatch Mia Bella; they know that the Bernardi’s don’t have the smarts for that, either. Give them some credit, Jack. They’re trying to help, by not having some ex-marine getting himself killed trying to rescue his girlfri--”

  The table had spun across the room, cracking the two way glass in a split second. I had my strongest hand on Rich’s throat, pinning the rest of his body to the ground with my weight, left hand and both legs so he couldn’t kick out. He could have got his right hand to my eye, but he didn’t even fight back. He just lay there, going from red to purple. I put my face so close to his, our noses touched, my eyes were burning into his.

  “I’m just doing what I swore to do, Rich. I have honor still. Fuck knows how much you sold yours for, you piece of shit!” He grimaced a sad smile at me, and his red eyes had tears in them.

  “Do it! Doo it!” he snarled, his teeth clenching, sending tiny rounds of his spittle to pepper my lips.

  It reminded me of a time much longer ago, when we were both prisoners, of a different kind; forced to do things we didn’t want to. And just so some sick bastard could have one over us both for his own twisted entertainment. To humiliate us both. I released my grip, standing up and turning to leave, without looking back.

  Gull was in the corridor, he was trying to look like he had a handle on the situation, but I could tell that he and the FBI were as much in the dark as I was. I went to push past him, feeling his strong hand gently on my shoulder. Not holding me back, but asking me to stay.

  “Jack, where are you going?” he asked, in shocked disbelief.

  “I’m going home,” I said. And I was. Fuck this whole day, it was a train wreck. I needed to get some sleep, something to eat at least. I needed a change of clothes, and I had an appointment with my shaving cabinet and a 300 lb barbell, in that order. But I knew that was just wishful thinking.

  “You can’t just leave!” called Gull, behind me, not even trying to stop me anymore. I kept walking.

  I managed to find the corridor with some elevators at the end. I punched G and felt a wave of terrible relief wash over me as the doors hummed shut and the mirrored cube I was in began its controlled plummet to the ground floor. My mind wanted to race, to complain, to let the drill sergeant in. I had nothing left, not even enough room for pity for myself.

  Ding.

  I stepped out into a wide glossy foyer with a couple of sleepy looking agents behind some security desks. They hardly looked up as I left, but one murmured, “Goodnight, Mr. Slade,” quietly, just as I walked past.

  The night breeze on my face was bracing, it woke me up, helping to clear my head a little. My cell pulsed, a little late, I thought. It was Rollins.

  “I’m sorry to call you, Mr. Slade. But it’s Mr. Leone. He’s passed away, just now. We tried to revive him, but his cardiac history, recent complications, and the news of his daughter’s disappearance were too much. Time of death was just a few minutes ago.”

  The twin beam of powerful headlights had swung around a corner sharply. The hearse.

  At least something’s on time.

  “Thank you, doctor, I’ll make the necessary arrangements, does the rest of the family know? Good. Keep it that way until I get there. Until then, Mr. Leone is not to be disturbed, okay? Goodbye, doctor.”

  The long black hearse was stark against the cityscape. It’s subtle, gleaming chrome now highlighted and increased the almost menacing darkness it exuded within the darkness of the city itself. The sky had grown starless with the tail end of a strong tropical storm coming. It could have carried anyone, but the smoky tint of the long, thick glass kept its secrets.

  I could be in something like this myself, before too long. Nah. Too… too Italian.

  Brown flashed his pearls as I got in the passenger seat. I could see the casket in back, solid black ebony with gold handles, inlaid with the Leone crest in gemstones and enamel.

  “”Quite a box!” Brown exclaimed, shaking his head slightly. I instantly wondered if it had been a wise move to bring in Brown on this whole thing. Could he be trusted? He saw my glance, and checked himself, growing morbidly serious in an instant.

  Good boy, Brown. Keep it that way, if you don’t want to ride in back, too.

  Brown, reading my thoughts, cleared his throat. “The Leone estate, Mr. Slade?” I heard myself breathing out loudly through my nose, annoyed that he should be speaking again, so soon.

  “Actually, no.” Brown gulped. I had to fight off a smile.

  “Just a quick stop at my place, thank you, Mr. Brown. I need a shower and a shave,” I said casually, looking out the window. Giant, spider-shaped blotches of liquid began to dot the glass as the car pulled out into the empty street and the emptier night ahead of it.

  My mind crumbled back to the thoughts of Mia. I set my jaw and face to a deadpan, kill face. The one I made when I couldn’t afford to show thoughts or emotions. Rich and I had learned it together, long ago. We’d had hours to practice it to each other. It was second nature to us both now, and I wondered again what had gotten to him, to make him sing for the FBI all of a sudden.

  Mia... I c
an’t even hope you’re alright anymore. I have to know it, or know that you’re dead. I can’t go on not knowing. This is killing me!

  My cell pulsed, I glanced at the screen; unknown caller id. Probably the feds again, I let it go to voicemail. The same number rang straight away, but I ignored it. Mia was all there was in my mind now, for the rest of the ride. And I promised I could allow her to occupy my thoughts. The things I would tell her, the things I would do to her, once I had her back.

  “Is Mr. Leone in the box?” I asked Brown, having to confirm the smallest, but most important detail of our trip, before I could begin to even unzip Mia in my mind.

  “Uh, yes, Mr. Slade. I collected him from the institute just before coming to collect you.”

  “Did you see him?” I asked, absently. I had popped a button on Mia’s blouse; she had on a pink, frilly bra that was way too tight. I felt my dick twitch and shift slightly in my suit pants.

  “Oh yes, Mr. Slade! A real double, I would never have guessed it wasn’t him. The tech’s assured me it was a full DNA match as well, with hair, fingerprints… everything!”

  “Uh-huh.”

  I shifted in my seat slightly, subtly stretching the front of my pants, letting my growing hard-on ride vertically for the rest of the trip. My cell pulsed again.

  Distracted, I answered before checking the number this time. “Jack.” It was Black. “Uhh. Bad news I’m afraid.”

  MIA!

  Twenty

  Mia

  Freezing saltwater stung at my eyes, a violent night sky raged above the dark figure hunched over me. I stifled a scream as I tried to move my left arm; it felt like it had been torn off. I could see two brilliant pinpoints of light staring down at me, white teeth set by a gasping jaw, and wet hair clung to a shadowed face.

  Jack? Oh Jack!

  “Sorry to disappoint, darling,” a voice came back, reading my mind and trying to shout over the howling wind.

  I heard myself trying to shout something, but the figure leaned in closer, to hear. “Did you just slap my face?” I shouted, groaning at the end as my shoulder seared with fresh agony. I heard a familiar, dry laugh, then arms a little tighter around me.

  “Yes, ’fraid so, darling, but needs must, y’know!?”

  With my one good arm, my free hand, I returned the slap to Giles’ face. He looked shocked for a second, then we both tried to laugh, but found we were both crying at the same time. He held me until I cried out again, but he hadn’t noticed my shoulder.

  With the precision of a field surgeon, Giles had assessed my shoulder, torn my sweatshirt and his own clothes, making a compress bandage of sorts, tying it so tight that it hurt, but so I could still feel blood getting to my arm.

  “We’ll have to get out of here pretty quickly! That shoulder needs mending; and this whole fucking island’s about to sink!”

  I could barely make out where we were in the darkness. On a jagged rock ledge was all I could make out, with a heaving sea spray all over us every few seconds. Giles held me tight, the rock face even tighter, preventing both of us from being swept away.

  “What happened!?” I screamed up at him. He didn’t hear me; he was scanning the impossible view of driving rain, stinging wind and the salty sea spray, looking out for something.

  “There!” he cried, pointing off into the dark.

  I couldn’t see anything, but Giles’ whole body seemed to relax by degrees. He kissed me gently on the forehead, and his own tears were warm, separate from the driving rain which stung my cheeks.

  “We’ll be alright, darling! Cavalry’s here!”

  I tried to speak, then to shout out something, but a wave broke over us. I felt my head pushed back, striking the rock.

  When I opened my eyes next, I was bound tight, in a cocoon, rising up toward the blinding floodlight of a huge helicopter. Two eyes looked down at me. Cold and neutral, through the slit of a balaclava. They weren’t menacing eyes, but they were indifferent. I wasn’t sure if this was a dream, a rescue, or if I was simply being collected by the Bernardi’s again. I wanted to cry out. In pain, for Giles. I wanted him to hold me again, so I could feel something other than pain and fear. I fought to keep them open, but my eyes closed again.

  When I opened them again, I was trying to sit up, I was screaming. Two huge hands held me back down from either side. I turned my head, trying to see Giles. I couldn’t see anything except the white and red of the sheet I was on, and the silver of the thermal blanket over me. The pain in my shoulder was a white heat, spreading across my chest and down my back. I wanted it to stop. I wanted all of this to stop.

  As quickly as the pain had stabbed again, there was a warmth spreading over me, like I was laying back into foaming bath water. A small smile began to play across my face. I felt the needle come out of my arm, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore.

  “She’ll be a little more relaxed now; we’ll need to tie off that bleed. Get some more gauze underneath that. Restraints. Not too tight, that’s it. Okay, Mia, a little bit of scratching around at your shoulder, but only for a minute…” I was already gone.

  The thumping of the chopper blades was replaced by the sound of the waves breaking across the sandy shore, which stretched out as far as we could both see. Not another soul, just Jack and me...

  I’d seen other couples, even in our own advertising, walking along beaches, holding each other like we were. I never understood how they could manage it. Wouldn’t they fall over? Hanging on like they were still trying to get back inside each other.

  That’s just how it felt. Not desperate, or clawing. Not like the passion we’d felt earlier at not being able to get out of our clothes quickly enough. But the glow, the edge of that heat, warm now. Like the steady embers of a fire that we both wanted to sit and watch, together. Basking in the effect of our own spent heat. Holding each other because we were no longer separate.

  Jack’s huge arm was across my shoulders, and my arm around his waist. My free hand traced lines and tangled his chest hairs as we walked in the soft sand, our footprints tiny dots, finally joining together the pieces of a puzzle we no longer wanted to solve.

  The world seemed to have shrunk, even though it still stretched out across the horizon. I felt something inside me I had never felt. It didn’t have a word, or a price. But I knew it was real.

  I rested my head against Jack as we continued on down the beach. He didn’t say anything either, he didn’t have to, neither of us did. The waves lapped, then some bigger ones rolled in over the top of them, breaking up on the sand. I watched our feet, stepping in time as the water rushed out again, almost making me miss a step, feeling like we were falling or sliding away.

  I felt Jack’s hand on my shoulder. He was gripping it, and I thought he was playing. It started to hurt; it seemed that he was digging his whole hand into my shoulder. Then, right in that moment, I felt the pit of my stomach go out. The fear gripped me again, I turned to Jack, but he’d turned to steel, to chrome. The side rail of the gurney I was on inside the chopper reflected back my own distorted and frightened eyes.

  Damp with tears of pain and red from the salty sea, even the oblong, tubular image of myself looked terrible. I wanted to cry, to reach out for Jack again, but it was useless. I tried rolling onto my back, but cried out in pain as I realized I was on my side for a reason.

  “Try to stay still, Ms. Leone, we’re almost there. I’ll give you some more pain relief… There… that should…” But Jack was gone, there was just the void of darkness as I felt myself falling back from the darkness from behind my eyes, and into unconsciousness. The thumping of chopper blades and static radio chatter left far behind.

  The first dim light of morning was finding its way through slim venetians. A heart monitor beeped regularly, my mouth felt like some other parts of my anatomy at that moment, dry and sore. I blinked, trying to blink away the grit which seemed stuck in my eyes. I felt so dry, prickly and hot.

  A memory of freezing water thrashing ove
r me, and over Giles, now flashed across my mind. If it were real, I hoped he was alright. I hoped I was alright. I tried sitting up, but moving anything was sheer agony, so I let my head fall back onto the crisp linen of what felt like two, medium-soft pillows.

  I was in a large single room, but not a hospital, despite the medical equipment, I could just tell. Maybe it was the ceiling. It didn’t have a grid pattern, or a collection of vents and speakers, any lights, or outlets and pipes. It was a sheer, non-reflective surface. And, to my immediate relief, not a dome shape. Wherever I was, I felt safe for some reason.

  There was a blue curtain to my left, so I couldn’t make out the entire room. And it was silent --save for the beep of the monitor, which suggested the size of the room by its mild echo from off the hard linoleum floor.

  I heard a door click, then beep. The sound of a heavy handle being pressed down. Footsteps. Boots.

  The curtain slowly pulled back. “Hey, baby girl. Miss me?” It was Giles, he looked how I felt, but had a brave face on.

  I don’t think I’d ever been so glad to see anyone. I tried moving again, but winced at the first attempt.

  “It’s alright, dear, plenty of jumping about later on. For now you’re our prisoner!” He was trying to put on a joking tone, but the fear in my eyes let him know it was a bad choice of words. “Ooohh! Sorry darling, don’t fret!” He stroked my cheek, brushing some hair back. I managed to hold my good hand up to hold his. He squeezed it gently. I could see the tears in his eyes before I felt my own. He was better at holding them back though.

  “What happened, Giles? What’s going on? I feel so… so…”