Deception

by Aleatha Romig

Carmine leaned back and nodded.

  “Of course you’re familiar with the one near here. The other two—”

  “I know where they’re located,” Carmine interrupted. “I also know that you’ve been talking to the other families.”

  I fought the urge to sit taller. “Yes. I’ve been in negotiation.”

  “Have I missed our negotiation?” Carmine asked.

  “Sir, I’ve spoken with Vincent multiple times. He’s been aware of everything. He told me to wait before I brought it to you.”

  Carmine leaned forward, placed his elbows on his desk as his fingertips met, one at a time, until both hands came together. I was most certain he wasn’t about to pray. If he was, I was the one who needed divine intervention. “I see. So it’s Vincent’s approval you seek?”

  “No, sir.”

  “You don’t seek my son’s approval?”

  Over the years, everyone knew that Vincent had become Carmine’s second-in-command. He was a made man, had been for nearly ten years, back when the families wielded more power than they did today.

  That said, I was quickly discovering that their loss of power could be more myth than reality.

  “I do seek Vincent’s approval, but yours is the most vital. Even the other dons are waiting…” My words trailed away as Carmine’s hand came up indicating my silence.

  When the room was silent, he nodded to Jimmy, the man on his right. The burly hulk was more than a bodyguard: he was known as the enforcer. The last thing anyone wanted to see was Jimmy’s mug at his door in the middle of the night. If that ever happened, it would be the last thing that person ever saw, as well as the only warning that morning wouldn’t come.

  Without speaking, Jimmy stepped back and led the parade as the room cleared, leaving Carmine and me alone.

  “Oren, you’re family. My Angelina, she loves you. Lennox, he’s family.”

  My chest constricted as I tried to breathe. Lennox was only ten years old. He was the real reason I’d moved Angelina to Westchester County and the reason I wanted to make Demetri Enterprises legitimate. I didn’t want him to be sitting in the same position as me. If I had my way, he’d never know the truth behind the business. That was why I worked countless hours. I secretly hoped that with time, the families’ powers would be whittled away. By the time my son was old enough, he could truly run legitimate operations.

  “Yes, family,” I confirmed.

  Carmine nodded. “Trust, Oren. I’ve trusted you with Angelina, but you see, I’m not convinced that you’ve made her happy. Will you make me happy?”

  “Sir, our marriage is healthy. I love Angelina, and her happiness is my goal. Sometimes she is… feisty.”

  Carmine’s laugh filled the room, echoing from the bookshelves to the walls. Being an interior room, it lacked windows. I’d never thought that was by accident. “Feisty… good word. She’s a Costello. We’ve been called worse.” He lowered his voice. “She confided in my Rosa that she wants a daughter.”

  I couldn’t hide the surprise from my face. “We—we talked about it.”

  “Sometimes women, they say one thing, they mean another.”

  “You want me to give my wife a daughter? I-I can’t promise a daughter. Even if we were to have another child, it could be a boy.”

  Carmine nodded. “But you’re willing… to try?”

  What the fuck?

  “Angelina and I should talk.”

  “Yes, you should.” His forehead wrinkled. “But I’m sure I don’t have to tell you… talking won’t give my girl her daughter.”

  I was at a loss for words as I simply nodded my head.

  “Oren, I have a job for you. You do want me to be happy, don’t you?”

  He has a job? Impregnating my wife is a job? Or is it more?

  “Sir?”

  “I want you to accompany Vincent to California.”

  I clenched my jaw and immediately regretted the knee-jerk reaction. Perhaps if I relaxed it, my tension would go unnoticed.

  Carmine’s eyes widened. “Or are you too busy to take a trip with my son?”

  Of course it didn’t go unnoticed. “No, sir, I’d be happy to go to California.”

  “I’ve never asked you to help the family before, but, son, I need to know where your loyalties lie. After all, you have been negotiating with others and not with me.”

  Loyalties?

  “I assure you that my loyalties—”

  “Words. It’s all words until I see evidence with my own eyes.”

  “May I ask,” I began, “what this job will entail?”

  Carmine shrugged. “It isn’t a family connection. It’s a debt—a favor. A man who once helped me asked me for assistance. That’s what we do: we help our friends. Right, son?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “This man,” Carmine said, “has a problem and asked that we help him get rid of it.”

  My pulse raced. His words between the lines were louder than the ones he spoke. I’d lived around it, even before Angelina. After all, my father worked the docks. I knew the score. I knew what was done, but I’d never participated, not in anything of this magnitude. I’d arranged money laundering, even allowing my reputable business to service those needs. I’d collected debts—financial debts—but never had I participated in murder.

  “Son, you want my help. I’m requiring yours in exchange. After the jewelry stores, there will be other businesses, other endeavors. I’d like to offer my allegiance. I need to know it’s reciprocated. Is that a problem?”

  The knots in my stomach painfully twisted. “No, sir. No problem.”

  “Tomorrow.”

  I looked around the office before my eyes settled again on Carmine. “Tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow, you and Vincent will help my friend. It’ll look like an accident—quiet and quick. It needs to happen fast. This problem is due back to his home in Savannah in a few days and if he returns, well, let’s just say, my friend won’t be happy.”

  “Sir, I’ve never…”

  “But this time, Vincent, he’ll teach you. You’ll learn. You’ll witness and participate.” And then you too will be indebted to the Costellos for their silence.

  Carmine didn’t need to say the last part. It was more than implied.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And,” Carmine said, “when you return, I’ll not only consider your request for the jewelry stores, but I’ll have a gift for my Angelina.”

  “A gift?”

  “Let’s not ruin the surprise. Go. Come back when it’s done. The future is full of possibilities.” Carmine stood and walked to my side of the desk. With his hand upon my shoulder, he smiled. “Because, son, we’re family.”

  I SAT BESIDE Vincent at a table in the hotel bar. Our backs were against the wall as we watched the red-haired Irishman at the bar. He wasn’t drinking alcohol, like the other businessmen around him. Instead, I’d heard him order his meal with a sweet tea. Stupid Southerners. Alcohol could plausibly cause an accident. Not so much sweet tea.

  “Go talk to him,” Vinny said with a tilt of his head.

  The knots from yesterday’s meeting with Carmine had yet to unwind. If anything they’d grown larger and tighter. My gaze went back to the man. I didn’t want to talk to him, get to know him, or even be associated with him. Why? Why would I want to do that?

  I had so many fucking questions that I’d never be able to ask.

  Too deep. I’m in too fucking deep.

  “Talk to him? Why?” I asked.

  “Because an accident needs to look like an accident. Falling from a plane, if the person don’t fly, looks suspicious. We need to know his likes and dislikes.”

  “Like a fucking dating service?”

  Vincent’s eyes narrowed, reminding me of my wife’s. “Like a job. You’re a negotiator, go talk.”

  That fucking word—negotiator. It was Carmine all over again.

  “Find out what he likes,” Vincent said, “what will help us. What will work. I�
�ll be here, waiting.”

  I turned my stare from the man at the bar to my cousin-in-law. “I don’t want this for Lennox.”

  Vincent’s brow furrowed. “You have balls. I’ll give you that.”

  “I mean it. I married Angelina. I made my requests and ambitions known. One day it’ll be you in the large house with the goons at your side. I don’t want this for Lennox.”

  “This life is an honor. I’m taking after my father, who took after his. It’s what Luca will do, what he should do. The honorable thing. You don’t want your son to be honorable?”

  “I want my son to have choices.”

  “Family isn’t a choice,” Vincent said.

  “It can be. It’ll be your choice.”

  “Then don’t disappoint me or my father. The future isn’t written.”

  It wasn’t a written promise, but it was the best I’d get.

  Nodding, I took a deep breath and stood. My eyes swept the bar. The barstool to the left of the man was empty. Easing my way across the crowded bar, with an exaggerated breath, I eased onto the stool and nodded in his direction.

  When the bartender came close, I flagged him down. “I’ll take a tall of whatever you have on draft.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Rough day?” the red-headed man asked.

  “Worse than normal,” I replied.

  He looked up from his plate to the television above the bar. Brightly painted cars were circling on a track. There were lights and people in large stands. Wherever the race was occurring, it was nighttime. The sound was muted, but the ticker near the top of the screen ran continually with numbers in order of their laps led. I’d never been much into racing, especially NASCAR. I didn’t have time for such pastimes.

  “Who’s leading?” I asked, feigning interest.

  “Gordon, but the damn caution just started. I hate when they end under caution.”

  I looked back at the television. “You like racing?”

  “Yeah, the faster the better. How about you?”

  I shrugged. “I’m not much of a fan. Kind of busy these days.”

  The man nodded, turned my direction, and extended his hand. “Russell, Russell Collins. What brings you to LA?”

  I shook his hand. “Oren. I’m here on business.”

  “Yeah, me too. Where’s home?”

  “New York. You?”

  Russell ran his hand over his hair. “Georgia, for now.”

  “For now?” I asked.

  “I’m not looking forward to going back.”

  “You’re not?” I asked casually, sipping my beer.

  “No. Fucking shit’s going to hit the fan. But it’s been a long time in coming.”

  I took a longer drink before setting the glass in front of me. “I’m not an expert, but you can talk about it. My wife tells me I need to talk more.”

  Russell chuckled. “So you have one of those too?” He looked down at his left hand and then over to mine, assessing our wedding bands.

  “Yes, for now,” I confessed. It was the first time I’d said it aloud. It was cathartic and safe. I figured in the grand scheme of life, it wouldn’t matter. This man wasn’t long for this world. Maybe for once I could be honest and say that my marriage was not getting better; it was falling further and further into misery.

  “I told mine that it was over,” Russell said. “Let me just say, it was fucking liberating. Saying the words was like loosening a damn vise from my chest.”

  I wasn’t sure what it was about the anonymity of conversing with a stranger, but for the next hour or so, both Russell Collins and I took full advantage. We said things that cleansed and relieved. I wasn’t a fucking priest, but maybe, just maybe, I was able to help him, because I knew that come tomorrow, his time for absolution would be over.

  AFTER THROWING A suit coat over my shirt and not bothering to change out of my jeans, I made my way down to the bar. The area was large with clusters of tables and plants surrounding a central circular bar glistening with glass columns illuminated in blue light. As I scanned the room, I didn’t see Davis, but many tables were occupied by familiar faces. If Davis had been looking for privacy, this wasn’t the place. Then again, maybe that wasn’t his objective. Maybe it was to have us seen together.

  Well, game on.

  I wasn’t Oren meeting in a closed office building.

  Near a back corner, I found an available table with high-back chairs and settled in. Directly behind me within the far wall of the bar was a giant fish tank holding an array of colorful sea creatures, strangely shaped fish, and bright coral. It was a world within our world, carrying on their lives as if they weren’t placed behind glass for the entertainment of others.

  From my vantage point, I could survey the growing crowd, which included a good number of the same faces from today’s hearing. My gaze settled on the profile of a man I’d never met, but his exploits were well renowned. Though young, he didn’t have a problem with standing by his convictions. The junior senator from Oregon could just possibly be the person to help swing the vote our way. Oregon was one state where Demetri wasn’t invested. Maybe it was time? As I stood to introduce myself, a waitress approached.

  “Hey honey,” she purred, “can I get you something?” Her eyes scanned from my face to my feet and back to my eyes as her smile grew even wider. Maybe it was because if someone had looked at Charli the way this woman had just looked at me, I’d lose my shit. Instead of feeling flattered, her attention turned my stomach. I’d much rather be back with Charli.

  “Grey goose, straight up.”

  “Sure thing, honey. I’ll be right back.” She winked. “If I can do anything else, don’t hesitate to ask?”

  “Drink’s all I need.”

  “Suit yourself, but the night’s young. You can always change your mind.”

  Her plastic smile never wavered as she walked away, her hips suggestively swaying from side to side.

  “Looks like you could have some company tonight, if you’re so inclined.”

  I turned toward the voice of Severus Davis, who now had landed his hand upon my shoulder.

  “I’m not so inclined,” I replied.

  He nodded toward a woman I knew wasn’t his wife, Maura, nor was she Chelsea. He puffed his chest. “I’m a little tied up myself.” Lifting his brow, he asked, “If you know what I mean?”

  I wasn’t sure why he felt the need to share or why he thought I’d be interested. It wasn’t as if I was about to suggest a three-way with the waitress.

  Asshole!

  The woman who’d been with him walked away and settled at the blue bar. The way her long bare legs were crossed suggestively at the knee caused her skirt to ride higher on her thighs. Her breasts were covered, but the material of the blouse was tight enough to make out the straps of her bra. Her center of gravity was definitely ill-proportioned. If she wasn’t careful, she could topple over into the drink she’d just ordered.

  As we both sat and he mumbled something else about his companion, I thought about how hearing the details of Davis’s sex life was not on my list of desirable activities.

  “Your wife is welcome to join us,” I suggested.

  Severus laughed. “My wife doesn’t travel with me, not if she can avoid it. Catalina does.”

  Nodding, I pursed my lips. “That’s convenient.”

  He shrugged. “She’s new, but so far I like what I’ve seen.” He leaned closer. “And there isn’t much I haven’t seen.” He looked around. “Where’s that cute little waitress that’s hot for you. Flag her down. I could use a drink.”

  “New? You recently became involved?” This wasn’t any of my business, but I wanted to know what the hell happened to our plant. Why wasn’t Chelsea the one with him, learning his secrets?

  “Yep.” He inclined his head toward the bar. “Real looker. I’d say more, but I plan to have her around for a while.”

  “I would suspect in your line of work it’s difficult to know who you can trust.”


  “It can be.”

  “Congratulations on finding someone.” I tried to push my questions about Chelsea and Infidelity out of my head. Something had obviously happened and as soon as I got back to the room, I intended to find out what. Changing the subject, I asked, “Now, what progress were you talking about earlier today?”

  “I’d say this is an example of knowing who I can trust. Is that someone you?”

  The waitress returned with my drink. I swirled the colorless liquor as Davis ordered his own poison and told her to put Catalina’s drinks on his bill.

  She turned back my way. “Would you like me to put your vodka on your room, sweetie?”

  I grinned. Certainly sweetheart, let me give you that number. “No.” I pulled a hundred-dollar bill from my money clip. “Keep them coming, I’ve got it covered.”

  “Sure thing.” Her lips teased a smile as she turned and walked away.

  “Shame,” Davis said. “Look at those legs. There’s a lot that could be done—”

  “Severus, to answer your question, trust is a two-way street. First, why don’t you fill me in on your thoughts about the uninformative meeting with my father?”

  “WHO IN THE hell is Catalina? Is she from Infidelity? What happened to Chelsea?” My questions came fast and furious.

  “Mr. Demetri, I’ll try to explain.”

  I gripped my phone tighter as I paced back and forth in front of the windows. In my current state I didn’t notice that the lights of Washington DC shimmered stories below. “Mrs. Witt…” If we were going to play this professional tone, I was ready. “…this was your plan. This was your idea, and now it seems to have been blown to hell. I’m not accustomed to incompetence coming from you. What happened to Chelsea?”

  “She interviewed with Infidelity while in California. She was accepted as an employee. Her profile was being assimilated just the other day. I’d kept Severus Davis’s request on the back burner, hidden to the Infidelity staff. That was where it all stood the last time I looked, not more than a few days ago. Something must have happened.”

  “You think?” I felt the vein in my neck throbbing. This fucking day needed to end and the next two along with it, so I could be back with Charli.