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

  Just like Brown should’ve done. Like he should do all the time.

  Papa was so happy to see me again so soon, but sad at the same time when I told him I was just there to grab some more clothes, that I wouldn’t be back for a few days at least, maybe longer.

  Jack gave Papa the rundown on what Lucias had told him about the Bernardi’s call for --not just total war, but death to every living Leone, including himself. I could see how much this troubled him, not being able to take action directly. Jack assured him that everything was being done to keep everybody safe, as well as gather more information before making the next move.

  “They’re broke anyway,” I heard myself saying, absently.

  Papa and Jack looked over at me, like I had just announced I was Santa Claus, and like I was crazy.

  “Don’t ask me how I know, it’s a long story, but the Bernardi’s are toast, financially. They can come after us, Papa, but they only have the cash in their pockets. Someone has been snatching all their offshore assets. Giles says…” I trailed off, seeing the disappointment, and almost hurt in Jack’s eyes.

  My father’s own eyes shot to Jack, flashing with anticipation. “Is this true? What in God’s name?”

  Jack stayed silent, looking down and shaking his head, considering to himself the impact of what I had just said.

  “Then whoever it is, will be coming for your money. Not your daughter, Don Leone. Although, something makes me strongly suspect he’ll want both,” Jack said, now beginning to grind his jaw.

  “He?” I asked, in tandem with my own father. I blushed slightly, looking away, not meaning to cut off my father when he spoke. He smiled softly at me, came and took my hand in his, kissing it lightly. We both stood, looking at Jack now, as if he had all the answers.

  “I wish I had a name,” he told us. “Or even a face. All I remember of him is his voice.” Jack looked intently at us both, then keenly to my father. “Rest assured, Don Leone, it’s as I feared. But that’s not a bad thing. I have met the man I think is behind all of this. He means to play for everything, for every one of us. But if I know he’s real, I know he lives. And if I know he lives, I know he can also die.”

  Thirty-Five

  Jack

  Not much for one to want to be on the phone a lot, it was ringing non-stop. All the colors of the rainbow wanted a piece of me, Mr. Greene, Mr. Brown and Mr. White. The only odd color was Lucias Leone. But he didn’t want my help; he wanted to tell me how things were going to be, now that he was in charge.

  All the others had reports of petty violence, fires and drive-by’s mostly. The Leone name was a target, with money on offer for anyone game enough to throw stones. The Bernardi’s themselves, they were strangely quiet; but word on the street was that there was a dollar to be made for putting the wind up a Leone.

  Lucias’ call was one I didn’t want to take, but at the request of Don Leone, I was to treat him as an equal. He was blood, after all. I was just the hired help. In times like that, being reminded in the same week as being told it was a Leone who made me an orphan, well fuck me, it was a strange tasting pill to swallow.

  Did I mention I fucking kill people for a living, guys? I would happily kill all of you, but now, thanks to your billionaire daughter, my dick is telling me otherwise. Jesus H. Christ!

  Lucias Leone was high, I could tell. I could hear it in his voice. It stood to reason that the head of the narc arm of the family might sample the merchandise on occasion, but his sniffing and rant-a-minute was more than just a sample toot of some Columbian sunshine.

  “Jack, have you heard? Word is out! There’s a contract on every Leone head! What are you doing out there? I need you here, with me. We need to be ready to fight these sons of bitches. We need to be rea--”

  I had to cut him off. This guy had a bug so far up his ass he didn’t know whether to shit, or wind his clock a half hour backward.

  “Don Lucias. I know about the word on the street. It’s nothing more than a few drive-bys and some fires, an insurance nightmare; but nothing we haven’t seen be--”

  He interrupted me this time, with some authority and annoyance. “Listen, you fucking punk! There’s a price on every Leone head. I just heard it from my men in Atlanta. Every fuckin’ mobster in the country has been given a green light, a fuckin’ gold ticket that pays huge for anyone who can take a Leone scalp! I just lost my brother, God rest his soul. I don’t plan on being fuckin’ next! Now get your ass back here and bring some more fuckin’ men! I want that fuckin’ legal team up here as well! I want a reading of my brother’s will, all this is mine now. I’m next in line. I’m the only fuckin’ Leone with the balls big enough to handle anything! You fucking punks!” I heard the phone hitting the receiver before it hung up.

  There were two --no, three things that had been in the Leone estate that mattered. Don Leone, his will, and Mia. All of them were safe in my keeping, for now. If somebody wanted to waste the lead to free the world of the fattest coke hoover on the east coast, they had my blessing. I trusted that Rollins had kept himself clean, and made a good getaway from the house as we had arranged. I had no time for the weaknesses of men. Drugs, booze, emotion...

  I’d cut myself off that time. I was falling prey to as much weakness as that fat fuck coke head, or Mia’s brother. Not in the same way, but it became a habit that turned into a need, which turned into something that you had to have, above all else. I didn’t want Mia to become that drug for me. Did I?

  I made a quick call to some more lucid, reliable sources in Chicago and elsewhere in Florida, as well as the tri-state area. They all said the same thing. The only good Leone was a dead Leone. A million a piece. Cash. Ten million for the daughter’s head, that’s what they’d heard. After I heard it, I didn’t wait one second, I hung up, turned on my heel and made my way back to Mia, willing her to still be in that office, with somebody with a gun within ten feet of her.

  I called her to make sure she wouldn’t move. I’d lost her once, but now there were ten million reasons for some very bad men to want to get to know her. I couldn’t, and I wouldn’t let that happen.

  There it was again. Like a bell, the high pitched tone after a bell is struck. That feeling I had for her, it was just like that. I never felt the strike; I only ever felt the after effects.

  Fuck.

  Once I knew she would stay put until I got there, I had to re-double the defenses of Mia Bella, and make arrangements to have a worthy team for the defense of the keys as well.

  I left a message at the FBI for Agent Gull to call me ASAP, I had some information he might like on the agent Black disappearance.

  That oughta get a call back pretty soon. Sorry Rich, but you’re my new favorite suspect in the Black killing. I’m pretty sure I heard you talking in a bar, bragging about how you shot him through the eye and fed his body to the fishes. Asshole. Double-crossing, two-faced… Anyway, that should keep Rich busy for a while.

  It was stupid to hide, laying in wait for someone to take a shot. And so I decided --business as usual, but a low profile was best. And also, involving the authorities too. Cops, FBI, it was all designed to make it harder for a hitter to get any hitting done. Anyone who wanted a fat check for the policeman’s ball. Two could play at the cash splash strategy, and as far as I knew, Mia had more cash than a small country. I wondered if Mia would be up for a press conference, to go public with the threats. I was suddenly glad for a minute that I was on the Leone side.

  Whoever you are, strange little rat man. I’m coming for you now. I know it’s not a Bernardi job. I just need you to stick your nose out far enough so I can see who or what the fuck you are.

  I got to Mia; she was safe, which meant I could breathe again. I wanted her out of Mia Bella for the time being, until I was sure she would be safe, and that all likely hitters had been taken out of the equation. There were too many windows in that damned building, and Mia insisted on hovering in front of every fucking one, like a moth to a flame.

  Giles and h
is team, whoever the fuck they really were, had better live up to their end of the deal. In the meantime, I wanted the feds to watch Mia Bella. The staff, the basements, the warehouse, everywhere that a rat or his shitty spawn might visit.

  We headed up to her penthouse to get some more of her things. Enough to last her the stay at the keys. I didn’t want her coming back here until I knew it would be safe.

  Don Leone was going to have company too, there would be a full house with all men armed to the teeth with around-the-clock vigils on the whole place. It would be tricky keeping out of the way of any feds, but it was a necessary risk. There was nowhere else for him to go so soon after his funeral. It would be extremely tricky if we had to bury him for real, so he had to live, at any cost!

  “You mustn’t let Lucias get so big headed, Jack,” Don Leone advised me. “He is a little boy inside, but he is also upset that I died. Give him some time, keep him safe, eh?”

  “Yes, Don Leone, of course.”

  I’d pull the fucking trigger myself if I had the time and could be sure you wouldn’t find out... what an asshole!

  I briefed Brown, taking him aside and letting him know, as hard as it was, he had to look straight ahead when talking to Ms. Leone, not at her chest. I reminded myself of the same, losing count of how many times I had stolen glances of her as we had spoken right in front of Don Leone. Brown was good. And if he wasn’t, I’d kill him. He knew that too.

  We were just leaving through the thick steel door, when the sound of a footfall on the top steps made me push Mia back and draw my pistol, squeezing the trigger already as a single hair appeared over the steps.

  “I really wouldn’t, Jack. It’s just me, okay?” Some fingertips appeared as the hands had gone up.

  Fucking Giles.

  “Really, Jack. Mia? Do I look that stupid?” He tut-tutted as he came up the steps, a dozen armed men behind him, flanking out into the stairwell.

  The static orders were chirping in strange echoes off the dull cement and steel. I was trying to block the door, but it was pretty obvious the game was up, and they knew.

  “If it makes you feel any better, Jack, it was only after you almost went to Mia’s elevator that it all clicked. A simple scan of the top floors at a different frequency and we could see and hear Don Leone, larger than life. But I only needed that to get the backup I wanted. It all clicked for me once I saw you go toward that elevator.”

  Slade! You useless piece of shit! Look at what you’ve done now. Drop and lick the floor you fucking maggot! Where’s Little! Get me fuckin’ Little in here! Gonna have us some fun now, with these two pretty boys!

  I felt my hands on my temples. I was working not to let the past spill over into the present. I felt Mia’s hand on my shoulder.

  “It’s alright, Jack. We can trust Giles. I trust Giles.”

  I should’ve pulled the trigger. I should’ve choked the old bastard when I had the chance.

  Fuck it!

  Goddamn you, Rich Little! You fucking double-crossing motherfucker!

  I holstered my pistol, noticing that we weren’t being arrested, or even questioned. We were, in fact, receiving the reinforcements I had so badly wanted.

  Giles’ look softened and he beckoned me over with a wave of his hand, talking to me softly in the stairwell.

  “Sorry, Jack. It’s a have to do situation. We know about the contracts on all Leone’s. We had to get some men up here ASAP. I hope you understand?” I felt myself nodding, but felt weak, dejected, beaten. Like Hagan was in my head again, like he was right next to me, belittling me. Abusing me and Rich all over again.

  I took a breath and collected myself. “It’s alright, and we actually need all the help we can get right now. You’re not interested in the fake death? Don Leone?”

  Giles frowned again, shaking his head and inhaling sharply through his nostrils. “My orders are clear; they don’t involve anything like that. I don’t anticipate it being a problem after this is over, either.” I raised both my eyebrows.

  “Any chance you’re going to tell me who the fuck you actually work for, Giles? I need to know if I’m going to trust you.”

  Giles looked off, almost dreamily, half-smiling to himself. I could see the memory of his own training, his own past, his own story playing across the light in his eyes as he remembered.

  “Let’s just say that certain financial arms of international governments are working to make sure that not too many billions fall into the wrong hands.” His own brows raised in silent answer to the questioning of my own.

  “Mia, darling!” he called out, over my shoulder. “You have friends in high places. We’re going to visit your brother!”

  Thirty-Six

  Mia

  The helicopter on the roof this time looked like something from a science fiction movie. I even saw Jack’s face do a double-take as his jaw opened, then flexed shut again. Papa had been annoyed that he’d been found out, but relieved when Giles told him that he wouldn’t tell anyone if Papa didn’t. He wasn’t allowed to come visit Mikey, something that didn’t bother him, as he didn’t seem to want to acknowledge Mikey as his own son right at that moment. It was something that Papa often did, depending on what Mikey had done on a particular day.

  ‘This is the safest thing we have for you right now, Mia. And yes, you’re paying for it. You bought it already. Hope you don’t mind?” Giles was sincere, but Jack looked furious. Was he jealous?

  I loved it. It had a few more guns and cannons than a girl might need on a regular day, but it was black, shiny, and wasn’t piloted by kidnappers. It was missing a fridge and flat screen, but Giles assured me we could have those seen to once things had settled down a bit.

  “She has stealth tech, which makes us invisible to radar, and we can take a direct hit from most hardware and still get to where we need to go.” Giles said the words excitedly to Jack through the headsets as we silently hummed through the skyscape at a fantastic speed, in almost total silence. Jack was more than interested in the helicopter, I could feel it, but he didn’t want to be told anything by Giles.

  It’s okay, Jack, we can talk to the pilot later, you can play with it when Giles is gone, okay?

  Giles didn’t miss a thing. His eyes danced from Jack to me, back to Jack, sensing what each one of us was feeling. All the while he reeled off strangely useless, yet fascinating facts about the helicopter. I could tell he was doing it to tease Jack, but it also helped to break up the mood, the seriousness of the situation. It was nice to not have to lie to Giles anymore. He was a good guy.

  “Where we headed?” Jack asked, interrupting him, sounding bored.

  “Mia’s old sickroom. It’s a classified medical facility, so I can’t exactly say where. Your phones won’t work in here or down there either,” Giles said, matter of factly, as if reading Jack’s mind as his hand absently strayed to his jacket pocket. He rested it on his strong thigh instead, drumming his fingers.

  I watched Jack’s fingers. Giles watched me. Jack watched Giles. This was our trip to the hospital.

  Jack took up Giles’ offer to stay with the pilot and talk helicopter. I got the distinct impression that Jack didn’t like Giles. He didn’t hate him, but something about Giles made him uneasy within himself, like Giles reminded him of something he’d rather forget.

  Since coming clean, it was too hard for me to read Giles anymore. There was certainly more going on in the shop than the frock in the window.

  “Now, Mia. Mikey’s unconscious, in an induced coma. Don’t be frightened, he’s okay. They’re keeping him under until the worst of his withdrawal is over, and until he’s recovered from the surgery.”

  “Surgery?!” I exclaimed, hearing how loud my voice had become as it bounced off the smooth, sleek corridors leading further down as we walked from the elevator from the roof.

  “It’s alright, darling, just some minor… well, okay, some major liver surgery. He was in a terrible state when they got to him, he’s lucky to be alive.”
<
br />   Giles stopped; I did too and turned to face him. He took both my hands in his and squeezed them gently, his eyes shining with emotion as he saw mine tearing up.

  “He’s going to be alright, Mia. He’ll stay here as long as it takes to get him well, and then we can work on his staying clean. Just be prepared for the shock of seeing him like this, alright?”

  “It is Mikey though, right?” I had to ask, it had been one of those weeks.

  Giles laughed out loud. “Of course, darling!” His own laughter was bringing some light to the dark space, to the sense of impending grief I had growing in my own heart.

  The familiar beep and pushing of a respirator. The smell of a really high grade disinfectant, not the stuff they used in public hospitals though. The curtain. I was almost too afraid to step around it, to see him. But there he was. I heard my own croaking cry before the tears came. I fell to my knees, clutching up at the bed. Giles helped me up, holding me there as I came to terms with what I saw.

  Mikey. My little Mikey boy. He looked broken. Like he had been cut out of space and glued back over it. I knew it was him, but he looked so different. I was glad Papa hadn’t come after all. He wouldn’t have taken the shock of seeing him like this.

  “Can I... can I touch him?” I asked, my own hand trembling out toward Mikey’s gray shape as it lay there, puffed and swollen, like a bruised shadow, a dark cloud over his natural light.

  “Of course,” said Giles softly. “Just hold his hand if you’d like.”

  Giles pulled up a small stool, which I sat down on as I took one of Mikey’s hands. It was so cold. I held it to my face, feeling my tears turn cool as they ran down his flesh, spotting onto the crisp linen of the bed, like dark rain falling from a stone-colored cloud.

  My heart ached, and I could feel it shifting inside me, like it would crack open. The pain at the back of my throat was no better after some more tears and crying. Giles rubbed my back, there was nothing I could do for him here, and we both knew it.