Dancing with the Mob: A Dark Mafia Romance Two-Book Collection Page 27

  “Mikey Leone.” That’s all I could say.

  Five

  Mikey

  They say that twenty-four little hours can change everything. They’re right. I’d woken up Saturday, feeling maybe I wasn’t so lucky after all, being stuck working at the family warehouse; to standing waist deep in cocaine on Sunday. And it was mine. All mine.

  I shook my head to try and clear it. I hadn’t had hardly any of the coke, but my mind was full of that girl from the night before. I couldn’t shake her, which was odd to say the least. I never considered any girl after the fact. This one was different though, and she had green eyes, not blue.

  Why did she take off like that? Most chicks would be so hot and digging for some more of what I had waiting for them. I noticed I was hard again at the thought of her, her chest on my arm, that thing she did with my ear. Wow! I wanted to rub one out right there in the container, but I had to focus, there was serious shit to be done.

  C’mon, Mikey! Man up and fuck’n bring this baby home!

  I was shaking. I was having trouble holding the phone in my hand. I was talking to my sister, Mia. Like most of my family, she was suspicious when I called, but she actually did care about me, so she had time for me.

  “No, I haven’t, I swear. I just have a cold is all. Promise!” The coke was in my voice and my sniffing was out of habit, even though I’d only been putting it in my drinks. I knew well enough not to toot this stuff; it was pure, grade A fuckin’ dynamite.

  “Well, we’ll agree to disagree on that, baby brother, you sound high, and you know what we’ve all told you.”

  “I’m not your baby brother, sis. We’re two minutes apart for god’s sake.”

  Mia chuckled. Her laughter was always carefree and light, like our mother’s used to be. She could literally afford to laugh as well. Her net worth made the national treasury blush.

  “I know, Mikey, it’s just you act like a baby still. Sorry, that came out wrong.” I was counting in my head, a trick I used so I too wouldn’t say something dumbass and screw up my plans with Mia. “I mean, you’re just the same little Mikey I always remember, and I love you for it. You know that, right?” I rolled my pinned eyes at the sound, the tone of her reverie.

  “Yeah, yeah. I know. Look, Mia, this is an official call. I’m working at the warehouse now, no, the other one near the docks. Yeah. Look, I need somewhere to stow a container for a few days, maybe a few weeks.” I heard Mia sigh. This was ultra small-time stuff, the type of thing she paid people four dollars an hour to deal with.

  “Mikey…” Her voice was getting complacent.

  “It’s a fucking warehouse man, stow it down there. Jesus!”

  I had to play it safe here. The guy, Mark, he was due anytime soon to pick the container up and take it somewhere for me. I needed a place for him to take it so that nobody would suspect or even consider looking for it. Mia Bella was perfect, it was a huge company, with its own portside warehousing, even hangars at the main airports.

  “Pleeeaaasssse?” I whined, doing my best baby Mikey impression for my big sister. Hearing her soft laughter, I pumped the air with my fist. I had her.

  “Alright, asshole.” She humored me. Gimme an hour and I’ll…”

  “Mia! It’s kinda urgent. Like, I dunno. Life or death! I need this done like right now, and super quiet too, y’know?” Silence. “Mia?”

  Fuck.

  “Alright, but let me just say this, Mikey Leone. If you’re up to no good, if Papa calls me with one of your antics giving him chest pain…”

  He calls her for that?

  “Mwah! I love you, Mia! You’re a lifesaver. How soon though, time is money, and all that.”

  Big sigh. “Alright, alright! I’ll text you the details, give me five minutes. And Mikey?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Please, please, don’t be doing anything stupid, okay? I love you.”

  “Love you too, sis, ciao!”

  And there it was. Within another five minutes there was a space reserved for the container at the Mia Bella holding dock, the VIP cargo area. No customs, cops or anything. Just good, old fashioned, billionaire security for my container load of uncut Columbian cocaine. I swooned at the prospect I was standing in. The scope of what was happening hadn’t really sunk in.

  How the fuck would I move this much coke?

  Wouldn’t somebody notice it missing?

  How much could I actually get? And how soon?

  My mind raced, like my heart, and each second, each minute was an eternity spent with sheer joy, the knowing I had finally done something right, coupled with the sheer terror of being found out, or caught. Returning to my life as Mikey the screw-up.

  No! Not this time, you bastards! I’ll just have to play it safe and play it smart. I jumped out of sheer fright though, Mia had messaged me again.

  I read the message: Be careful, Mikey. Whatever you do.

  It was a little early for the paranoia to be kicking in, but Mia always seemed to know what I was up to, maybe not exactly what I was doing, but she could see a green or a red light when she thought about me. That day I was running red, I guessed.

  Emptying the crates, there were twelve one kilo packets in amongst the cartons of those ridiculously-expensive Cuban cigars my father insisted on smoking. I guess Lucias shared the passion for burning money. It looked like Uncle Lucias was going for broke. Hey! If you’re going to ship contraband, why not go the whole piñata? A few crates had guns and ammo as well. This was a literal goldmine. By my rough and nervous calculations, there was twelve hundred kilos of cocaine, five thousand boxes of Cubans and enough guns to arm a small country.

  Holy fuckin’ shit.

  I jumped out of my skin a second time in as many minutes, cursing out loud that I kept letting things get the better of me. It was my phone again, fucking Gray.

  Shiiiit!

  “Mr. Leone, I’m in your bedroom at your house. Where are you this morning? Do I need to call in to speak to your father?”

  I was ready for that one. “Gray, didn’t I tell you yesterday? After the truck left? I would be here. At work?” I waited. A bead of sweat was working its way into my eye. If he didn’t buy my bullshit, my plan could be ruined before it got started.

  “Oh, sorry Mr. Leone. I can see now, your cell is at the warehouse with your car, too. My mistake, maybe I forgot what you told me. I’ll be down there in a short while.”

  “Ummm, Gray?” I tried to sound like I was in charge, even though I knew that was useless. These minders had to answer to my father directly, and they could usually smell bullshit before it had even been passed.

  “Yes, Mr. Leone?” Gray was doing a good job at not showing his hand, even though he was the easiest of the bunch to bluff.

  “I have to have a container shipped. Today. I’ll be heading along with it to…”

  “Traveling with a container? Mr. Leone, that sounds most irregular. I’d better run that by your father. I’ll call you back in five minutes when I’m on my way to you.” The line went dead.

  Fuck!

  Shit!

  Calm, Mikey. Calm. I sat on the edge of a crate, listening to the sound of my restless leg as it accelerated from an idle into overdrive within about ten seconds. I bit my nail so close that I cried out as I chomped into my own flesh. Nope. Stressing wouldn’t do it; I’d have to bluff my way through this like I did everything else.

  I had reserved a few of the packets of coke. For testing, analysis, so I told myself. I would have them tested for purity, then have a clearer idea of the value to ask from prospective buyers, who I had no fucking idea how to even find.

  I dotted my index finger into a small baggie I had made up for myself, and rubbed it over my tongue and teeth. It was plenty. I knew myself well enough, like the rest of my family did, that if I started tooting this stuff, I’d be useless.

  Once I started I couldn’t stop. This was like edging without coming on a massive scale, for me. This much coke, more than I’d ever
seen or even thought about, right there in front of me! And I couldn’t even party with it. Not yet, anyway. I’d have to stay lucid for Gray, and Mark. I had to stay sober enough to get this stashed away nice and tight, then I could find a buyer, then I could be free. Truly free. That’s what I was bullshitting to myself anyway. I never could smell it. Even when I was standing waist deep in it.

  As if on cue, I heard the low blast of the truck’s horn. I hastily packed the crates back up, nice and tight, and begun stowing the packs of coke and some handguns with boxes of rounds and cigars into a duffle bag. Next I hopped out of the container and locked it before anyone else’s eyes even dared to think about looking into what might be inside.

  I was so up. Charged to the point of feeling invincible. I knew I had to monitor what I thought before I spoke; it was too easy to give it away when you were high. When I was high, anyway. I was a total slut for it. And I lived for it if I had access to it. It was the real reason why Papa had minders and didn’t give me more than a dollar or two at a time. History had repeated itself too many times.

  Mark looked like shit. I considered giving him some of the blow, but had to check the thought as soon as I had it.

  See! You’re doing it already! Fuck, Mikey! Just Chill. You’re a fucking Leone, act like one.

  “Sorry if I’m late, Mr. Leone. I came as soon as I could, I…”

  “It’s fine, Mark, thank you for being conscious of the time. Here’s the destination for the container, and the bay number. It’s expected and you’ll have no problems once you get there.” Mark was staring at me. I realized I’d been sniffing the whole time.

  Damn coke, turns me sniffing every fucking time. But I didn’t even toot it! Fuck!

  “Now, Mark. It’s imperative that this be our little secret, okay?”

  Mark nodded, then gulped. Like most guys who did the grunt work, he knew, sensed the risk he was taking, and what would happen if it didn’t go right. He didn’t want Slade giving him a ride home from the cop station after bailing him out. That would be bad. I think Mark understood.

  “Good man. Mark, do you like cigars?”

  Dammit Mikey, you are such a fuckin’ lush.

  Mark was still nodding, like one of those plastic dogs some people put on their dashboards. But he didn’t have a cute or sheepish grin. This guy was terrified. “Sure, Mr. Leone, cigars.”

  I produced a box and thrust it into his hands, and Mark’s eyes widened, again; not from surprise, but from fear. Each cigar was worth about a thousand bucks, and it was common knowledge who liked to smoke them. For a Leone employee to be walking around with a whole box, without being on the way to give one to Mr. Leone, well, it was very bad.

  “Uh, Mr. Leone, I couldn’t… it’s…”

  I got in close to Mark, pressing my finger to his lips. “Hush now, Mark. If everything goes well, I won’t have to tell my father I saw you with a box of his cigars just now, will I?” The plastic dog shook his head the other way, a little gray-green now. “Good boy, Mark. Now go deliver that container and let me know when it’s done.”

  As the truck pulled out of sight, I felt myself reaching for the baggie already, but didn’t. Gray’s car was pulling up. Noticing nothing happening, I was standing in the car lot with a duffle bag, and he held his hands, palms up, in a what gives? gesture.

  Gray would follow me home and camp out the front. I was afforded some privacy at least. Enough, I hoped, to find a buyer before anybody noticed that a Columbia of cocaine was missing from somewhere.

  Six

  Natalia

  Any other guy and I would’ve forgotten about him already. I was Natalia Bernardi, not some dizzy teenager getting fingered at a bar. But I was, and I did feel like that. My whole life, it seemed, had been upended in one night. I hadn’t slept, I couldn’t eat. I was having trouble focusing on what exactly was wrong with me.

  Sounds like love… Shut up!

  It wasn’t love. It was something else. Probably MDMA or some other party drug slipped into my drink, and that’s what I told myself. There was no way known on God’s green earth that I would allow myself to be finger-fucked by a Leone, then fall in love with the bastard. It just didn’t happen. I heard myself sighing out loud, my own hand tracing to my mound, trying to recall at least a hint of that incredible excitement I’d felt.

  Who was I kidding? This guy had burrowed into my head --and elsewhere, like a weevil into oats. The same mysterious power that had come over me, making me go right up to him in the first place. And it was charging me again. I had to find him. I had to see him again. I must.

  Definitely love… it is NOT love, dammit!

  I broke my own rule on drugs and took a sleeping tablet. I had to sleep. I told myself everything would be different when I woke up. That much, at least, would turn out to be true.

  Sleep? They should just call it Zonk. A six-hour coma thanks to our little white-coated friends was all I managed. And a headache with a cotton-mouth chaser, thanks. I felt worse than before, but I was busy at least feeling bad physically, so there was little time to daydream about Mikey.

  Mikey. Mikey. Mikey… Mikey…

  I realized then, that I’d been chanting his name in my head since he’d said it to me.

  Fuck… Mikey… Mikey…

  That was not a good thing. I didn’t become obsessed, especially over men. Jesus! I roused myself with a cold shower and some strong coffee, vowing to forget the whole thing and get on with enjoying my little holiday from the permanent holiday that was my life. Then, checking some emails, one jumped out and slapped me. A deal was going down. That night!

  I had a few sources on the street. Eyes and ears that would let me know, anonymously and through re-routed servers that something was going down. It was how I kept in the loop. Organized criminals don’t post their deals online. Disorganized, addicted criminals, well they’ll tell you everything and a whole lot more for half a rock.

  I looked after my sources though. They were given real incentives to get me into real deals. Not buying or selling. I just got off being in the room, it was like… it was like… well, I’d had that now, so deals really weren’t in the same ballpark at all.

  Shit.

  Now I was thinking about him again. What was this guy, a demon? An angel?

  Definitely angel. No demon has a manicure like that. He was a fucking Leone though.

  And don’t you forget it!

  I heard myself sighing again. It just wouldn’t do. I’d get ready, go to a deal and see if I could get my kicks from that. Maybe afterward I could go to a different club and find some poor guy to humiliate.

  The message about the deal had a warning though:

  If shit gets heavy, don’t say I didn’t warn you --be careful.

  For the record, my sources didn’t and still don’t know who I am, so it was often amusing to read what most normal people consider dangerous or careful. Either way, Lady Derringer would be in my pantyhose. It was such a cliché, and I’d never actually used it. There was just something erotic and so fucking sexy about having a tiny, double barrel pistol in your garter. I raised my eyes up; thanking whoever was up there I didn’t have it on me the night before. I could’ve blown Mikey’s hand off.

  Stop thinking about blowing Mikey’s anything. Just fucking get ready and go to the deal.

  I got another email alert on the way to the deal. Just as well, they’d changed the location. I actually took it as a good sign, the new place was closer anyhow, so I was a little earlier than I would’ve liked.

  “The fuck you want, bitch!?” The security at the event was no less than charming.

  “If it’s you, I’ll let you know,” I murmured. That was the code.

  My man was all smiles, ushering me through the huge steel door like a perfect gentleman. I could hear voices echoing off the dark brick tunnels as they led further underground. The click of my heels cut through the soundscape of drips and rats squeaking, like tiny taps of a hammer, something staccato, something off
key.

  That smell. Not the sewerage or the swampy gas smell, but those cigars; they were so familiar. Not the same as Papa smoked, but definitely high-end. My biggest fear was bumping into my own family at one of these deals, but they were generally low-grade affairs, but smelling a thousand-dollar Cuban got my heart racing early. And someone was sniffing. A lot.

  Two male figures suddenly appeared; it seemed they were heading out in a hurry. As they passed me I heard them muttering to each other.

  “Bad deal man, what the fuck’s that prick doing here anyway? Someone’s gonna get killed tonight and it ain’t me!”

  Standing in the wide entrance, a gaping brick arch, our eyes met for the second time, with the same effect. I almost let out a cry, a moan of relief, of joy. To see him, those eyes again. My body remembered every inch of his touch in an instant. I felt giddy, like there was no air. I was right. There was some asshole blowing cigar smoke right at me. He was familiar, but maybe just because he looked so out of place.

  My attention had to stay on Mikey, it was all that mattered at that exact moment. Everything I’d told myself was a lie. I wanted him like nothing on this earth, and I was a girl who could have anything she wanted. But the son of the rival family? A Leone? That was too much, it was impossible.

  I felt myself biting down on my lip. Partly thinking, partly trying to stop myself repeating what I’d done with him the night before, right in front of everyone. The mere thought gave me such a chill; I thought my nipples would burst from being so hard.

  I cleared my throat, announcing my arrival and also letting Anus know I didn’t appreciate what he was billowing. And so he tipped his head in my direction, but that was all.

  Mikey was sniffing, I knew the look. He was high, but not too much. His eyes would be the same whether he was high or not, that was his power, dammit. And damn him for being such a dick! Turning up, out of my fantasy into another one, ruining my chances at ever being normal again.