Dancing with the Mob: A Dark Mafia Romance Two-Book Collection Page 17

  The interior of the cathedral was huge. No part of it had been blocked off for the ceremony. I stood for a moment, casting my eyes above the scene. I wasn’t surprised to see a few clowns with cameras up there in the rafters. I grabbed somebody with a radio and got them taken out of the building. I would’ve thought that whoever threw them out had the sense to take their cameras too, but not everybody was born with the good brights that some of us carried naturally.

  I got myself briefed and rigged up with a headset. I wasn’t in charge at all, that was made clear to me by some real secret service types, trying their best to look natural in three piece suits and mirrored shades. Mia’s chums, I figured. It was okay, they’d rescued her and they were keeping her safe for now. I would give a lot to be a fly on the wall in one of their briefings though.

  They must have some intel on who was behind Mia’s kidnapping. They must.

  I felt my cell buzzing, it was Mia herself. How on earth she always managed to call me when I was thinking about her or her new friends really made me wonder. She sounded hysterical, but there wasn’t a lot I could do. Turns out the guys with the cameras had a live feed, or had sold the footage in three seconds to the highest bidder. The scenes of Don Leone’s body in the open casket were all over the media within minutes.

  I had so many things I wanted to say to her, to tell her, but I forgot them all. I was so tied up with what was happening around me, plus she had the knack of calling at the worst times. I wanted to thank her for the note, to tell her that her dad said hi, that he loves her so much, that I…Well; I wanted to thank her for her note and hopefully make a time to see her again, even in a work capacity. There was a mountain of paperwork for the lawyers, and somebody had to be there to make sure they only got what they were supposed to.

  I wanted to tell her how much my life had sucked before I realized I had feelings for her. I wanted to tell her that I wasn’t just a stone-faced killer. That I was --I thought I was... a real person inside, that maybe it was time for me to hang up the gun and settle down, live like a normal person. I at least wanted to try and hear myself say things like that, or even just think them to myself as I spoke to her. But, I screwed it up again, she got pissed with me and hung up. I had wanted to tell her I was thinking about her, even though I hadn’t been, but I was, from that moment. All day.

  Twenty-Eight

  Mia

  Giles wanted to tell me that all men were pigs, and that I was better off without them, but the look in his eyes was a reflection of my own feelings, even if I had been cross with Jack. I was letting myself get caught up in the whole fake funeral thing. I had tasted Jack; I’d had him inside me. I was hooked and I wanted more, much more. I just wasn’t sure he felt the same way, nor did I think he would tell me, even if he did.

  I’d lost all my enthusiasm for the huge basket of food Giles had brought in, my heart sank and I started to feel more helpless than ever as I thought about the future, about Papa and about Mikey too.

  Giles, the polished host, had read my thoughts and patted my arm, assuring me that, although he couldn’t tell me everything just yet, everything would work out fine. Then, without another word, he pushed the large wooden box across to me.

  I lifted the lid. It was a set of handguns, like the one he’d left for me on the island. Except, one was missing. Lost now, never to be recovered.

  “They were supposed to be a pair,” he exclaimed, dramatically.

  “You didn’t have to do that Giles, really. I don’t even like guns.” I lied, eyeing the pearl handle again, feeling my breath catch as I traced the engraving of my name on it.

  “Oh yes I did,” he carried on. “The wages you paid me had to be spent on something that was given back to you, house rules. We aren’t allowed to keep anything we earn when we’re on placement. Shame, too. I loved that job! The pay was okay too, but yes, those babies cost quite a bit, every cent I earned, and a fraction more.” He winked at me. “I hope you keep it as a memento of the whole experience, how you survived and all that.” He trailed off, boring himself with his own excitement and probably reliving how much the pistols had cost him.

  “I’ll treasure it,” I said, carefully closing the box, fighting the urge to pick up the gun and examine the detail, the ammunition, as well as the extra clips laid into the box underneath.

  “Mia, I know it’s a hard time for you, with your dad and all,” Giles began.

  Here it comes, I knew it.

  I had rehearsed a sort of speech, for when the time came. I hoped Giles and the others would buy it. No time like testing it out there and then.

  I cut Giles short. “I loved my father, Giles. But to be honest, we weren’t terribly close. Since my mother died when I was still quite young, we never really connected, he sent me away to schools you see.” Giles nodded, understandingly. I couldn’t tell if he was buying it, but it was the truth, mostly. I knew Papa was alright, and I didn’t ever want to think about him dying, not even pretend to.

  “I understand Mia, it’s just… well... there’s some financial details that we will need to go over at some point.” I made like I was about to get upset, on my father’s funeral day as well! The fact I couldn’t even be there was made worse by him dredging all this up now.

  Blah, blah, blah… Are you getting this Giles? I’m having some trouble with it.

  Giles was so good at acting, at reading people, and he was so close to me right then, it was like he could read my mind, but was choosing not to. He apologized for bringing it up, and we tried to enjoy a pretty over the top breakfast-come-brunch out of the basket.

  As we ate, I was considering what he had said. There were financial details to be dealt with, but behind closed doors. We would have to show something to these guys, and to the feds, to give them something to go on if they thought that somebody, or something was actually trying to rename offshore trustees to include themselves.

  It didn’t help that Jack had murdered the family lawyer, but from what I understood, he was the most suspicious of the lot. I was surprised Papa had let it go on for as long as it had. Even before he got sick.

  Oh, Papa. I need to speak with you! I can’t wait for this day to be over so we can get on with business.

  I needed Jack too. I was having trouble putting priorities straight in my mind, and his face kept popping up in their place. How was I supposed to get anything done if I kept thinking about him? I wanted to find out how he felt about everything, but I didn’t want to risk losing him by seeming too needy. I also needed a security head I could trust. My judgment must have been way off. I would never have picked Giles as a… whatever he was, secret agent, undercover, or whatever it was that he actually did.

  “Can I go to the church? After the funeral, when everybody’s gone?” I asked Giles, trying to gauge when they would let me leave the keys. I was itching to get back to the office, to get home and to see Papa.

  Giles was frowning, rolling his eyes as he finished his mouthful of food, giving me a not fair look before he could speak again. “Mia… don’t do that. Please. We went over it all on the way down here, remember? It’s enough of a to-do as it is. I am sorry about the whole thing with your father, with your family, I truly am. But, until we know who it is that’s trying to get to you, we can’t let you go anywhere. We should know something more by the time the service is finished.”

  “So, you were sent here to distract me, maybe pump me for some more info on the family’s finances while they burn my dad?” I asked, trying my best to sound huffy. It had worked.

  Giles reddened, then collected up the remnants of his basket contents. He was trying to return the huffy favor, but we both let out a loud belch each as he packed stuff away, making us both break out into laughter like a couple of schoolgirls at a slumber party.

  “I’ll leave you to your morning, girlfriend,” Giles said as he made his way back out through the French doors. “It’ll work out. I don’t know exactly how yet, but it will. Bye, hun!” And, just like that, he wa
s gone. On an isolated key surrounded by invisible secret agents, I felt suddenly alone again.

  I explored the house a little more, but it was just a house. If anything, it made me want to go home. My real home was the office, the buzz of the place, with new ideas, deadlines, and deals that could make or break a new line or even a whole season. It was my drug and I was in withdrawal already.

  I ran a shower and, letting my hands run over myself, was plagued with the yearning for Jack’s touch. I didn’t feel like I wanted to pleasure myself, I had to have him there doing it for me. This was quite a shock to me, as I was no stranger to my own body and how I liked to come whenever the mood struck. Without Jack, without knowing if he even really wanted me, I felt useless.

  I dressed and did my best at lounging around doing nothing, which lasted all of five minutes. Thinking about Jack, how he’d been with me on the beach, and how I wanted him again, desperately so. I felt the obsession returning.

  I switched on the TV again. I told myself there was nothing to be upset about if they showed that dead guy made up to be Papa, it was just like a movie. What I was doing was seeing if there was any new footage, footage of Jack. I wanted to see him again.

  Several stations had running commentary about the media blackout, but they all had plenty of footage for some reason. They even had choppers with giant zoom lenses, hovering overhead; trying to catch a glimpse of what was going on.

  I felt like one of them, my eyes like slits, straining to see Jack in the crowd, as if he really would have been there, standing with all the people out on the street. But that’s how my mind was playing it. I would have done almost anything to catch a glimpse of Jack again. The thought of him was making me so hot, but I dared not start fingering myself, in case Giles or someone else made another one of their little surprise visits. I was sure they had the whole place bugged, and probably had cameras everywhere, anyway. It was kind of a mood killer.

  I was just about to change stations when my heart stopped, then I stopped the live feed from the set, taking it back a few frames at a time. I recognized him. He was disguised somewhat, with a big hat and a loud shirt, but I would know that body anywhere. It was Carlo Fucking Bernardi, and he was getting into a car with somebody. Mikey.

  I desperately hopped across some other networks, hoping for some footage that had seen them in the background at the same moment. It had been a fluke to have spotted them, but I found a station which had a different angle, and was slightly closer. There was no doubting it, it was them alright. They looked pretty cozy together. Mikey was a giveaway, even wearing a poor disguise. He was so coked up it was obvious to me who he was. I could recognize Mikey from the moon. My mind was switched from obsessing about Jack, although it would’ve been nice to see him as well, to seeing those two, now bringing back the whole terrible memory of being held on that island.

  How the fuck did they get away? And why the fuck were they at Papa’s funeral, so openly?

  I called Jack again, after hesitating, dialing, then hanging up; then dialling again.

  Fuck it, I’m his boss now. He works for me! If I want to call him, I damn well will.

  I felt some fire returning to me, something I hadn’t felt for a few days now. I hadn’t been myself at all. I wanted to take charge of something, to bark orders and have people scurrying off to do things as best they could in case I wasn’t happy. I wanted to be in control, but as I was thinking that, I got wet thinking about how much I wanted Jack to control me, like he had on the beach.

  I needed answers, and I’d have them, I’d have it both ways. I could have Jack do my bidding as head of security, then I could have him treat me like he did. Pushing my legs apart, holding my head back by my hair in his strong hands. I gasped, and felt my hand straying down to my crotch at the mere thought of it. It was more thrilling than a new line, than any amount of makeup or clothes. The very thought of it sent a ripple of current from my belly to my clit, which I felt bristling against the lace of my panties.

  I fumbled for the phone again, trying to regain some composure. It rang in my hand, it was Jack. As soon as I spoke, I realized how hot the thought of him had made me. I was trembling.

  Twenty-Nine

  Jack

  I’d been the cause of countless funerals. Ironically, I’d never been to one. Not anyone I knew anyway. Technically, this one wouldn’t count either, but I had to make it look like I was part of the process, part of the memory of Don Antonio Leone.

  I watched members of his family, close and distant, and their outpouring of grief was very real. I stopped to consider if there had been a funeral for my parents. If Don Leone had been there, if he’d felt any guilt after killing them. He’d made sure that I was cared for, when he could’ve just left me in that burning house.

  I scanned the crowd as I grappled with the recent memory of Don Leone’s confession. Had he been delirious, convinced he was about to die? Despite the criminal lifestyle he and his family led, he was a deeply religious man. A point I never identified with him on, nor was it one I was expected to share with him.

  I could see Don Lucias, his whole side of the family stayed to one side of the service. The other side was a mix of distant and possibly exiled family members, who like many others, were at the back of the service that poured out onto the steps of the cathedral. And had most likely come just to make sure that the old fox was actually dead. The open casket had been a stunt for that reason alone. It was for the benefit of those who doubted the fact. The feds had released the body just in time for the service. They bought the whole story, including the paperwork and physical evidence presented to them. It had all gone exactly to plan. That part of it had, anyway.

  I recognized a lot of feds in the crowd. Not by name or by face, just the way they carried themselves, some with the tell-tale headsets, or murmuring into their cufflinks. I noticed a few others, too. Spooks we called them in the service. They weren’t FBI, but these guys didn’t look like typical CIA either. I didn’t know why there were so many of them there, along with the FBI. The back, middle and very front rows looked more like a secret service convention than a funeral. It was unsettling, but only because I had chosen to stay.

  I replayed the moment when I had a pillow over Don Leone’s head, suffocating him after he’d told me he’d killed my parents. My life’s mission, my real purpose for living would have been fulfilled at that point, but I didn’t go through with it. I had been distracted by a call from Mia. I had folded, allowed my emotions to rule me instead of my instinct.

  Now I really was in deep. I’d slept with her, and I had the feeling her old man knew that too. He wouldn’t have approved, but he wouldn’t disapprove entirely either. At least he knew I wouldn’t hurt her, and that I wasn’t capable of that, because of my loyalty to him. Thinking about it to myself, I longed for the days, not too distant, where my only responsibility was myself. No feelings, no real thoughts, just action.

  Did Bernardi go to your wife’s funeral, Don Leone?

  It was an absent thought, but an automatic one when I saw a man who looked a lot like Carlo Bernardi on the other side of the vast congregation as I was doing laps of the edge of the service. He had a few men walking with him, they looked kind of familiar, but there were so many people in the crowd that looked similar, and these guys had on hats and sunglasses. They were too far to tell for sure, but something went twang in my gut.

  For someone who was in charge of the security at the event, I realized that was just something I was telling myself. This was orchestrated and happening outside of my direct control. I had planned a small service, with blood relatives only, no media. There wasn’t a lot I could do for the moment, and the effect of presenting Don Leone as dead was now done. The rest was all trimmings as far as I could tell.

  I made my way to the men’s rooms for a much needed bathroom break.

  Closed for cleaning?

  I’d seen rows of portable bathrooms outside for the crowds, but, being an insider here, I figured I was
at least entitled to use the men’s. I stepped over the yellow rail and past the safety signs, down the magnificent little corridor that echoed my footsteps off the ancient marble. Despite the huge crowd only a few yards away, I felt as though I was walking back in time, a little piece of true privacy in the coolness of the massive, domed building.

  The uniform black and white mosaic with a mild religious theme greeted me as I pushed past a heavy, black, enamel door marked Men. In hindsight, I should have taken the word on the door literally, and as a warning.

  I had only just unzipped myself, when I felt my feet lifting off the ground. Both my arms and then my legs were being held by what felt like iron vices, but I felt the movement of firm long hands and fingers. I struggled to turn my head, to break free. It was useless. I relaxed from a struggle, giving myself instant inches of play as my captors felt me relax. One of them let his grip loosen just long enough for me to free my arm up enough to reach my gun. It was no use. There were too many of them and they were crazy strong. I was strong. These guys were crazy strong.

  One on each limb, another behind me; who had stopped my arm and taken my gun. I heard the hammer click behind my left ear as I stood suspended about a foot off the ground, painfully aware that my dick was still out, and that I badly needed to piss.

  Well, I guess I owe you one, Cartwright, Hamilton. Last time I make a piss joke to someone who has the lesser hand.

  There was the muted sound of a single applause from behind us. I was kept facing the wall. I couldn’t hear anybody moving or straining. I couldn’t even hear these guys breathing. I doubted they were seeking employment, but these were the kind of men I needed on my team, not the other way around.