Dancing with the Mob: A Dark Mafia Romance Two-Book Collection Page 5

  I stood staring. I wasn’t tech savvy when it came to men’s fashion accessories.

  “It’s a sedative pump, Jack. Looks like they were stitched into our shirt collars. They can be activated remotely. It injects the subject in the throat, then pumps enough goodnight into a man to put him down, dosing him again if he moves, keeping him down.”

  My brow went up instinctively. “Nice, but why would you want to wear one to work?”

  “Asshole,” Rich sneered, steadying himself as he yanked the mechanism from his shirt. Then he tore off his jacket and pants, scanning the material for signs of tampering. He was in good shape, his legs were taught and muscular, and his body was ripped like an athlete, mapped with handsome veins and a perfect tan. I always had to look away when Rich got naked, or near to it. There was just something about him I couldn’t allow myself to even consider. I was definitely not gay, but fuck he was so good-looking it was hard not to notice him.

  “Looks like all your men are down, Rich.” I observed them, looking around. He looked up at me as though I was a rookie, telling him the sky was blue. I shut my yap.

  He put his pants back on, but ditched the shirt. I followed him as he took a desert eagle 50mm from the shoulder holster he’d tossed. He knew his way around there better than I did, so I got behind him as we started to recon the area.

  “Still got the hand cannon?” I whispered to him. The Desert Eagle was the biggest handgun I’d ever seen, it suited Rich though, and he was big enough to handle it.

  We swept the whole area up to the doors, and then Rich went out to the helipad as I covered him. We’d checked the others along the way too, all sleeping, except the ‘non-suits.’ They all shared the same, red, dot tattoo. Whoever hit this place had been professional about it. It was an inside job, and they knew exactly when and where to strike.

  Rich had lowered his gun, uncocking it. The all clear sign. He sagged instantly, no longer trying to keep up the act he’d been putting on for my benefit, and then he kissed the tarmac, face-first.

  I dragged him back inside, he was stable, but like the other men, very heavily doped. I went from man to man and unplugged the barbs from their necks. Some had come around, but slumped straight back down again.

  I got on the phone to Brown. I assumed he was still in the building. Two rings, yep, he was here, and in the fucking john. “The fuck, Brown?” I growled when he answered.

  “Sorry Mr. Slade, my gut. I think I have IBS.”

  “Irritating Bitch Syndrome? Yeah, you got that, Brown. Get your ass up to the roof. Yes! The fucking roof, we’re too late, but we can find some answers up here. Oh, and Brown, find a men’s shirt, size 44, and bring it with you, will you?”

  I went back over to Rich. He was up again.

  “What do you want me to do, Rich? This is your gig. I don’t want to tread on any toes here.”

  He scowled at me, then looked down, kicking his heel into the carpet. “My ‘gig’ is, was to protect Mia fucking Leone! I’ll catch up with whoever, or whatever did this!” he said, spreading his arms wide, circling the whole area, where bodies lay still, and the smell of blood and gunpowder still filled the air.

  I took that as a green light to do whatever the fuck I liked. And right at that moment, I wanted to find out where Mia’s helicopter was headed.

  “Bird got a trace?” I asked, jutting my chin back to the office.

  “Of course,” Rich said, coming back from his pity party, some fire in his eyes.

  We both made our way back to the office, and Rich pulled up an extra chair to his desk for me as he punched in some details. Nothing...

  “Fuck! Well, I guess it’s no surprise, they jammed the trace. Pilot’s heart monitor and personal GPS, nada. Emergency channel, bird’s radar and sat-nav, tracking, everything --burned out or jammed with a large dose of what the fuck. They’re pro’s, Jack, but they picked the wrong guy to fuck with.” He said the words as he was bringing up other data and schematics on his computer.

  “The wrong guys,” I corrected him. “What’s the range of that thing on a full tank?”

  “Tanks,” Rich corrected me. “She has four tanks, around about eleven hundred pounds of fuel. She can do 350 miles, 400 at a stretch, before she needs a drink.”

  I knotted my brow, that was a bigger radius than I liked, considering that whoever had Mia could take her anywhere at any point, and in a circle of about 700 miles across.

  “How fast?” I asked, hopeful a bird that big would be sluggish, even though I knew better.

  “Around 130 knots. 150 miles an hour, top speed."

  “Fuck.”

  Rich was nodding in agreement. “It’s why they didn’t use a car, or anything else. In the air like that, untraced, it’s like looking for a needle in a haystack… from space.” I felt my heart sink. I wanted to punch something, or to cry out.

  MIA! Oh my god, Mia!

  I bit my lower lip, it felt like I’d bit through it. Rich looked at me, I could tell I looked more concerned than he did. Sure, he’d lost his employer, but he was looking at me and read how I felt. He didn’t say a word. The man I could trust was right in front of me. God, I’d missed him.

  “Well,” I started, trying to sound optimistic. “They haven’t got too much of a head start on us, and I do know they headed east.

  Rich’s eyes widened as he looked over at me. “How the fuck could you possibly know that?”

  “I saw her, I saw it leave. I was on the ground when it took off. I was trying to get here in time…” I looked down, feeling how Rich felt earlier, all over again. I’d fucked up. This was my fault.

  “Okay,” said Rich, brightening a little. “Some intel is better than no intel.”

  He opened another window on the screen and picked up the phone simultaneously, barking orders to be put through to the nearest airport. Like NASA, or anybody who had an eye on what was in the air within a 300-mile radius.

  “Exactly what were you trying to get here for, Jack?” he continued, holding on the phone while scanning the computer without looking at me. We sat in silence. He didn’t press me for it, but he knew. It must’ve been written all over my face.

  Mia.

  Over the groans of some of the men as they woke up, we both heard the heavy footfall of boots from the wide corridor. Rich’s whole torso flexed as he reached for his huge weapon. I already had my gun pointed at the doorway as the figure ran past, then lowered it. It was Brown.

  “In here, Brown!” I called. “It’s okay, Rich, he’s with me. Heads up, he’s special needs.” Rich looked at me quizzically, then smirked as soon as he saw Brown.

  Brown was standing himself up, holding the huge steel doorframe for support, he was sweating and panting. It looked like he was holding a Mardi Gras flag, scrunched up. He almost instinctively wiped his face with it before holding it out to me.

  “A shirt, boss. Just like you asked. 44.” He bent over after I took it, his palms spread flat on his knees as he struggled to catch his breath.

  Rich put his gun back on the table, looking at me again with a giant question mark. I held up the shirt to see how it would look on him.

  “Perfect!” I exclaimed, slapping the shirt onto Rich’s huge rock-hard chest as he rolled his blue eyes so I could only see the whites. “It’ll match your… it’ll match… ah, who fuckin’ knows?” I laughed, trying to feel something other than the pangs of fear, loathing, stressing, and regret which threatened to tear me apart. All from just thinking about Mia, about what could be happening to her at that very moment.

  Seeing Rich in the very-loud shirt was funny, though. The Hawaiian shirt lifted all our spirits, momentarily. He’d put it on for my benefit. Not because he liked it or wanted to cover up, but because I’d thought to get him one.

  “Y’know…” he joked. “There’s not too many shopping days left until Christmas, Slade.” I respected his brilliant smile. That shine in his eyes, the smell of gunpowder, danger, and disappointment in the air. It was like being bac
k on tour all over again.

  I gave Brown the rundown on what had happened to the security team. And then, like a bit of an idiot, he scratched his head and looked at me like I was trying to explain quantum mechanics. Then he did as I asked, getting the men up, making sure they were free of their collars, and that they had no other injuries. There wasn’t anything we could do for the dead; they lay where they’d fallen.

  Rich was programming all possible trajectories from the building, due east. Where the nearest helipads were, where there was known fuel supplies, airports; anything that could give us a clue as to their whereabouts.

  “We could just call her,” Brown suggested.

  I looked over to him in disbelief, and then to Rich, who’d raised an eyebrow. I mouthed the words special needs to him as he smirked again, and we both got back to looking at the screen, and our thinking.

  “Mr. Brown,” I stated with authority. “When somebody is kidnapped, they don’t usually have access to a cell phone, nor do the kidnappers allow them a phone call. It’s a kidnapping, Brown. Not county jail. You don’t get to make a phone call!”

  Brown muttered something to himself. I just made out what he said as he turned away. “Wouldn’t hurt to try. I would if it was my girlfriend.”

  Eight

  Mia

  The way into the house was easy. In fact, there was a steady line of men with guns who, by simply being there, showed me the way I was meant to go.

  Stepping into the huge domed atrium, out of the wild weather was a relief. The door hummed shut behind us, as the instant hush was filled with a soft piano concerto, instead of the howling wind and rain soundtrack that was playing outside. I could see it, beating against the huge glass panels, but inside was another world. One I hoped to see a bit more of, while I was alive... if possible.

  “Please, Mia. Allow me.”

  Carlo Bernardi had placed a fluffy robe around my shoulders. A small Hispanic woman who never looked up appeared. She was carrying a silver tray with steaming towels.

  Bernardi held his arm out toward a huge glass top table. It was set for two. “Take a moment to freshen up, have a seat. Please.” His please was more of a command than an invitation. I had kind of gotten the idea that I was here against my will. If I had to come here willingly, it would’ve been with Angelo, my architect, and my team of interior designers. Each to their own though. What a waste of fucking money…

  I figured warm and dry was preferable to cyclone or helicopter filled with dead guy, so I allowed myself to be eased into the high-backed chair. I gracefully took a steaming towel and gave myself a little mini facial. They smelt great, and the steam did help to refresh my skin.

  I let the robe fall back from my shoulders, hanging on the chair behind me. My dress had held up, it was a Mia Bella, and I used it to my advantage, pushing out my chest with my shoulders held back and my head still high. Poise wasn’t something you were born with, you learned it. Bernardi had trouble focusing on my eyes as he was about to speak. Round one: Leone.

  While Bernardi filled up on eye candy, I spied the spread of food on the table. Being kidnapped in your own private helicopter does make you hungry, and the strawberries and chocolate didn’t count that day, or so I told myself. The lobster looked good, with chilled melon salad. I thought I’d pass on the overpriced bubbly. A girl had to keep a clear head, plus I didn’t touch the stuff anyway.

  I waited patiently for Bernardi to regain his senses. I would’ve appreciated the opportunity to have restored myself in a proper bathroom, with my own dressing room and wardrobe, at home. But, needs must. I was sure I’d be able to work some more charm on Bernardi, given half a chance.

  I’d gazed around me for a while, then back to Bernardi. His eyes were cold, his jaw clenching and unclenching with a seething rage. As soon as my eyes met his, he smiled, gesturing to the food.

  “Eat! Eat! You are my guest, and you must be hungry after your journey.”

  I put a lobster tail on a plate and poked it with the blunt fish knife. Bernardi began to chuckle. “Is alright, I’m eating too, see!” He stuffed a whole lobster tail into his mouth, and had cocktail sauce running down his whole chin as his eyes glared at me madly. Ok, so he’s not going to poison me… yet.

  The food was excellent. What Bernardi lacked in personal taste, his chefs had made up for. He managed to tone down his obviously piggish eating habits for my benefit, even using a knife and fork at one point, but only briefly.

  Once he saw I was done with food, he pushed his own plate forward, took a large gulp of champagne from a wine glass, and studied me from across the table. Eventually his eyes were drawn to the rock on my finger.

  “Oh! I nearly forgot! I’ll have to look after that for you as well, during your stay here with us.” He had the demeanor of an evil hotel clerk, practically rubbing his hands as his eyes caught each ray, just as the stone was passed from my small hands to his. That’s one to the Bernardi’s, I guess. Fuck.

  As he was hypnotizing himself with the rock, I took the chance to get it straight as to why I was there. “Mr. Bernardi, I am a rather busy girl. It’s nice to have met you in person, to have seen your… lovely home, but I really must insist that I get back to work. To get back to my office. Immediately.” I intoned the last few words with as much conviction, authority and badass bitchiness as I could muster.

  Bernardi didn’t flinch. His eyes got dark again. “You’ll do as you’re told you little fucking bitch!” He stood up abruptly, and I waited for him to come over and hit me, but instead, he turned his back, went over to the glass and stared out at the storm with his hands behind his back.

  The three guys at the door, the ones I could see, were all deadpan, but their machine guns told me to stay still, and quiet.

  Jack? Now is an excellent time to do that thing I was wishing for. No, not the fucking part. Not the sucking of my tits while I come on your cock… it’s that part where you burst through the door, shoot everyone and FUCKING RESCUE ME!

  It was as if Bernardi had read my thoughts. He turned slowly, and his eyes were kind again. He looked a little sleepy from too much food, drink, or just being too old for this kind of shit. Probably all three. He’d placed the ring in his waistcoat pocket, patting it like a small dog who had come to heel.

  He replaced his hands behind his back and began to circle behind me. My anxiety was high before. But it was fever pitch now. The room swam slightly as the storm outside seemed to sway with the interior, with the fish in my stomach. The lobster, melon, strawberry and chocolate, were all conspiring to shoot out of my mouth as I felt the sickness, and the sheer helplessness of my situation which was dawning on me.

  I jumped slightly as I felt Bernardi’s hand on my shoulder. He had put it there gently, to reassure me, but his fingers curled across my collar bone just enough, and in such a way that showed his power over me at that moment.

  He began to speak softly from behind me, lowering his head slightly, so no one else would hear. “Mia. Ms. Leone. I have your interests at heart, and I certainly mean you no harm. I have signed my own life away by bringing you here. Maybe. We shall see. All I ask is that you treat me with a little respect, humor me even; and I will reveal the purpose of your stay with us, in good time. Alright?” I felt my head nodding, but in my mind I had put a fork through his eye, just as Jack imaginatively smashed his way through the roof, coming to bring me home.

  The fork was still on the table though. The glass was silent. I heard an ancient clock chime the hour, somewhere in the house, and heard Bernardi move away from me, closing a solid sounding door as he left. The sound of a heavy bolt reaching its home toned in time to the last chime of the hour. It was nine o’clock.

  Oh Jack. I’m so scared.

  After a short time, the men from the door moved slowly over to me. I got the picture, standing up and following the one in front, with two more behind. They were like stone.

  The house consisted of a series of huge geodesic glass domes, interconnected with
a series of corridors, tubes of glass and chromed steel. I was led down several of these corridors, which began to have no glass, being blocked out, and seemed to be leading downward. I thought I heard a scream, I spun round and the two behind me motioned politely forward with their arms.

  I was led to a reasonably large, dome-shaped room, totally white, with no windows. The men left and the door swished closed, an electronic sound from the other side, and no handles, letting me know I was in here for as long as they wanted me to be.

  I found a spacious bathroom, with a dressing table by what would normally have been a large bay window. The recessed shape was molded into a white leather couch, which arced around in a semi-circle, following the line of the room.

  I could feel the tears welling up from the ache of my predicament, but I could also feel eyes watching me. Looking up, there were several tinted divots in the ceiling. I checked the bathroom; there was one, but only in the doorway. The shower and toilet area was partially blocked by a low, tile-lined wall. Some privacy at least.

  Making my way back to the dressing table, I was stunned to see it was all laid out exactly like my own was, just the same as in my dressing room back home. The same makeup, the exact same fragrance. The jewelry I kept out. A complete, watered-down replica of what I was used to. Scanning the room, I could make out a sliding door, opening into a small wardrobe, filled with, of course, Mia Bella fashions. Shit.

  Everything in the wardrobe was still in the design phase. None of it had even been shown to the assembly team, let alone the public. How the fuck…?

  This guy was using mind-fuck techniques. And they were working. I wanted so badly to use the toilet, to shower. There was even a huge tub in there. I couldn’t even bring myself to touch any of it. I curled up on the circular bed, wrapping the white mink cover over myself, covering my head. And it was then that I began to sob quietly to myself.

  Look all you want Bernardi. You got me, I can’t do shit right now.