The Holy Ghost

by M. E. Clayton

  “Good evening, Neil,” I chuckled. I might not have a soul, but I did find joy in the little things.

  “Uh…”

  I took a step back and eased off the pressure of the gun, so he could turn around and see his fate. Again, normally, I didn’t play games like this, but I was feeling…irritated having to wait so long to off him. When he turned around and saw me, his eyes widened, and though we’ve never met, he knew who I was.

  I smiled.

  “I promise-”

  I tsk’ed at the poor man. “Now, now, Neil,” I sing-songed, “I’ve heard all about the promises you make. I heard them all from Ciro Mancini as a matter of fact.”

  “But-”

  I shook the bag out of my back pocket with my free hand, and I had it over his head and a bullet in his brain before he could beg some more. Letting his body fall, I held onto the bag and stuffed it in my back pocket to get rid of later when I got rid of everything else. Now, some might think it was morbid to carry around a bag with brain splatter in it, but that kind of shit stopped bothering me years ago.

  Sneaking out the way I snuck in, I jumped the back yard into the adjoining yard of the vacant house next door. In the dead of night, no one would see me, but I took great care in everything I did. Nothing would lead the cops to my door.

  They didn’t call me The Holy Ghost for nothing.

  Chapter 2

  Francesca~

  I stared at the twenty-seven cents on the table, and it was all I could do not to visibly cringe while other customers were still around. I didn’t want to feel ungrateful for the change, but I never understood why people did that. It was insulting and unnecessary. However, scooping up the change along with the dishes, I reminded myself that every little bit helped.

  It wasn’t that I was starving or anything like that. I got paid a decent wage at Brighton’s Steak House and, usually, the tips made it possible for me not to have to live paycheck-to-paycheck. But I knew my customer service was worth more than the change I just dropped in my apron. I wasn’t one of those people who thought I was owed a tip, so I made sure to do my best to earn one. I was all smiles and politeness, even to the rude customers.

  Plus, I enjoyed my job. Was it what I saw myself doing for the rest of my life? No. But life doesn’t always turn out the way you expect it. A couple of the girls knew I was only a semester away from getting my degree in Business Finance, and they always encouraged me to go back to school, but I was a realist.

  Or maybe I was just a loser.

  Either way, school wasn’t in the cards for me right now. Or ever if I was being completely honest. I just didn’t have the…drive anymore. When I had graduated from high school, I had been young and eager to conquer the world. I was going to go to college, get my degree, and make a good life for myself. But when that dream died, carving out a nice, quiet, low-key life had become the goal, and I’ve been living it for the past six years.

  I finished cleaning off the table and took the dirty dishes back to the kitchen. We had busboys for this, but I liked to keep busy, and being a Tuesday evening, Brighton’s was slow.

  “I need some rich, handsome, single stranger to stop in for dinner, fall madly in love with me as soon as he spots me from across the room, and carry me away from this lower-class, change-counting life,” Mona muttered as she dumped a tray of dirty dishes on the counter beside me.

  I laughed. “I saw the pictures you posted this weekend,” I informed her. “You wouldn’t be living a lower-class, change-counting life if you didn’t buy top-shelf liquor every weekend.”

  Her blue eyes flew sideways, and she smiled. “How else am I supposed to cope with having to count out my change to pay the bills?” she teased. “It’s a vicious cycle, for sure.”

  “Well, when you come across that rich, handsome, single stranger ask him if he has a brother,” I joked. “Preferably one who is also single, not gay, has a job, and isn’t an asshole.”

  “No rich and handsome?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Looks fade, the love of money is the root of all evil, and, Christ, Mona,” I grumbled, “at this point, I’d settle for a man who doesn’t give me a headache when he talks.”

  “Amen, sister,” she agreed. “Is Edmond still asking you out?”

  The dishes in the dishwasher, I turned towards her. “Yeah, but he just seems too…normal,” I excused lamely. “Plus…I don’t know, Mona. There’s absolutely no butterflies when he flirts with me, and there should be some attraction, don’t you think?”

  She laughed. “There’s nothing worse than lugging around a man who doesn’t do it for you. If you don’t feel the butterflies, don’t even bother.” Mona walked out of the kitchen and left me there to stew on my lonely thoughts. Truthfully, the only man who’s ever made me feel butterflies, or any-damn-thing for that matter, was Phoenix Fiore.

  I met Phoenix when we were children, five-years-old to be exact. We had all gone to the same neighborhood daycare, and he and my brother, Ciro, had become fast friends. Ciro, being the big brother that he was, always had me with him, so it had been natural to become friends with Phoenix, too.

  That was, until we became more.

  At seven-years-old, he had told me he was going to marry me and, over the years, our friendship had become more, until I was so in love with the boy, I hadn’t known how to live life without him. Even when Luca Benetti had come into the picture, nothing had changed between me and Phoenix. Sure, Ciro was my brother, and Luca had become my best friend, but Phoenix had become something more.

  He had become part of my soul.

  He had taken pieces of me I couldn’t get back and those missing pieces have made it hard for me to date anyone else these past six years. And because I loved him so deeply, it also felt as if I were still dating Phoenix and being with another man would be like cheating on him. I knew it was stupid and untrue, but that’s how I felt. Whenever another man flirted with me, that’s how I felt.

  Most people would label me stupid or crazy to be faithful to a man I left-a man who betrayed me, but I felt what I felt. It didn’t matter that I was sure Phoenix has moved on after all these years, I could only handle what I felt. And I wasn’t going to jump into bed with a man I wasn’t attracted to just to prove a point.

  The door swung open just as I was ready to head back outside and my best friend, Roberta Regal, came flouncing in. “Jesus, it’s slow as shit out there,” she complained. Robbie was in the same boat I was. While she wasn’t starving, she counted on her tips the same way I did. The only difference was I didn’t have a boyfriend who didn’t work sponging off my paycheck.

  “I know,” I agreed. “But that didn’t stop some dude in a suit from leaving me a golden treasure of twenty-seven cents.”

  She winced. “What a shit,” she grumbled.

  I shook off my dark mood. “That’s what the weekends are for,” I said with as much enthusiasm as I could muster. “We’ll make it all back then.”

  Her pretty brown eyes shifted, and I got a sinking feeling in my stomach. “Yeah, I uh…”

  “What’s wrong, Robbie?”

  “Nothing,” she mumbled. “Well, I don’t think it’s anything to worry about yet.”

  My brows shot up. “What isn’t?”

  She started to bite on her lip, and I wondered if she was going to answer. She finally said, “I overheard Randy on the phone last night and it sounded like he was arguing with someone over money. And, well…I’m just hoping he doesn’t expect me to bail him out again.”

  It took everything I had to bite my tongue. I could go on a rant of what a loser her boyfriend was, but I didn’t want to be that friend. I wanted to be the kind of friend that could give Robbie advice based on her life and her personality, and not on what I would do in her situation. Besides, what the hell did I know about relationships? The first and only one I’ve ever been in crashed and burned.

  “Well, you know what you can do and what you can’t do,” I said cautiously. “Don’t overextend your
self if you can’t afford it.”

  She shook her head and plastered on a smile. “You’re right,” she agreed. “Besides, he hasn’t even asked, so I probably shouldn’t be borrowing trouble.” I smiled back at her for a lack of something better to do. “I’ll see you back out there.” She winked and flounced back out the same way she came in.

  I took a deep breath and prayed she’d listen. I’ve only met Randy a couple of times when we’ve gone out for drinks together and, plain and simple, I didn’t like the man. He was a mooch and had that troublesome vibe about him. But, as long as he made Robbie happy, I planned to watch what I said about the guy and word my advice carefully. However, I still didn’t like him.

  Growing up, I was used to men who took care of their women. From where I came from, men were men and women were women and there was no confusion. If a man didn’t outright support his woman, then he had a partnership with her, and they took care of each other. From what I could see, Robbie took care of herself and Randy.

  Shaking off my thoughts, I went back outside into the restaurant and tried to mind my own business. Robbie wasn’t a stupid woman. She might be putting up with more than most because she cared about her boyfriend, but she wasn’t stupid. All I could do was be there for her when enough became enough.

  As I entered the floor of the restaurant, I realized it was true what they said; say the Devil’s name, and he shall appear. But, in this case, it was Edmond who appeared, not the Devil.

  He was sitting in my section, and he was all smiles when I approached. “Hey, Frankie,” he greeted me. “How are you?”

  I put on my service smile and made sure not to hint at anything more. “Hi, Edmond. I’m doing well. How are you?”

  It wasn’t that he wasn’t good-looking; on the contrary, he was. He had sandy blonde hair and sweet, light blue eyes. He had that surfer vibe even though there wasn’t an ocean or lake anywhere near Cedar Creek. There wasn’t even a creek. He was also tall and athletically built. He wasn’t a gym rat with too many muscles, but he also wasn’t a slob with a pouch over his dick.

  Overall, he was a nice-looking man. He just didn’t do it for me.

  No one did.

  “I’m great,” he answered. “I’ll be doing better if ever you take me up on my offer of dinner or drinks.”

  I kept my smile in place. “What can I get you, Edmond?”

  “Okay, okay,” he teased. “I can take a hint.”

  Since he’s been hitting on me for weeks, my money says he can’t.

  Chapter 3

  Phoenix~

  It didn’t matter how many times I’ve been in this house, this study particularly, it always felt like I was sitting down with the sorry souls who were unfortunate enough to cross paths with Giovanni Benetti. Or any Benetti, for that matter.

  It was also how I knew when Luca was talking to us as a Mob Underboss and not the boy who we played tag with as children. Whenever we were invited to meet him at the Benetti home, which was still occupied by his mother and father, we knew we were here for business.

  Luca owned an apartment building on the outskirts of Morgan City. He occupied the entire top floor while me and Ciro shared the floor underneath, our apartments separated by a shallow hallway. No one had access to our floor or Luca’s save us three. The remaining six floors were empty of residents except for the first floor which consisted of the lobby and the smaller apartments that housed a few guards. The second floor housed a gym, swimming pool, sauna, etc. Any member of the Benetti family was required to be healthy and in shape, so Luca made access to a gym easier for his men. No one in the Benetti family got soft, not even the retirees.

  No one.

  The third floor was a common area, where a lot of our impromptu meetings were held. The fourth and fifth floors were empty and completely gutted of anything besides structure beams. The sixth floor was our arsenal floor. Only a few people had access to the floor, and one of them was Vincent Costas, our weapons expert and manager. His sole purpose in life was to issue our weapons and firearms and make sure they could never be traced back to any of us. We had more firepower on that one floor than most gun stores. Needless to say, the security in Luca’s building rivaled that of The Pentagon.

  Whenever Luca wanted to spend time with me and Ciro as friends, we were called up to his penthouse, or he’d stop by one of our apartments. Being called to the Benetti home meant he wanted to talk business. It was no secret that Giovanni Benetti didn’t care for the fact that mine and Ciro’s alliances were with Luca and not him, so he didn’t appreciate our presence or called on us often. He tolerated us because we were good at what we did, and he didn’t want to cause a rift between him and his son. No one voiced it out loud, but we all knew Luca was ten times more powerful than his father these days.

  When I had driven through the gates and circled the arched driveway until I was parked in front of the house, well, mansion really, no one had stopped me, and no one had greeted me. When I had gotten out of the car and walked up the steps to the house, even though there had been a dozen pairs of eyes on me from the moment I had turned the corner on Park Street, no one had stopped me because they knew.

  They knew who I was.

  And they knew I belonged here.

  I sat on the deep brown leather couch, my elbows braced on my knees, a tumbler of whiskey in between my hands. Ciro was seated on one of the bar stools near the bar on the right side of the study, while Luca’s ass was perched against his father’s desk. Well, technically, his father’s desk, but we all knew the truth.

  “So, what warrants a visit to Daddy Benetti’s house,” Ciro asked in that flippant way that irritated Giovanni Benetti and I couldn’t say I blamed the man.

  Luca shrugged a shoulder. “Nothing business related,” he clarified immediately. “I just had some business to attend to and I knew you guys were near.” While Luca’s apartment building was on the outskirts of Morgan City, the Benetti home was on the north side of the city where the wealthy dwelt and the homes sat on acres of land, making neighbors a mile-wide non-issue. And because the Benettis had enemies by the thousands, it was rare for Luca, Ciro, and me to be seen together. Even though our homes were in the same building, we each had three different residences that were spread throughout Morgan City.

  “So, what’s up?” I asked.

  “Have either of you been to see Massimo today?”

  In the poor neighborhood of Silver Heights, Massimo had been every child’s favorite uncle. His wife had died young, taking all his love with her. He never remarried, and since she died so suddenly, they never had kids. Massimo took to adopting all the neighborhood children and making them his. He bandaged wounds, bailed out troublemakers, fed the neglected, and even harbored fugitives. Even his nails were often painted by little girls whose mothers were too busy turning tricks or passed out from drugs to play with them. Every one of us held a special place in our hearts for Massimo. Even those of us who no longer possessed one.

  And one week ago, he had landed in the hospital, stage-four cancer, and he hadn’t told anyone. He had wanted the last few months of his life to be happy ones, not to be drowned in sadness and depression.

  “Yeah. I was there this morning,” Ciro answered. “Around two, maybe.” Luca donated a shitload of money to Mercy Hospital for round-the-clock premium care and visiting hours for Massimo.

  Not to mention, a fuckton of guards switching shifts.

  “I stopped a couple of hours ago,” I added. “In time to have lunch together.”

  Luca didn’t comment. He just nodded, thoughts already organizing themselves in his head. Luca was a thinker. And the motherfucker was always ten steps ahead of everyone else. The man’s mind never stopped.

  We watched as he reached back, grabbed his glass of Louie Xiii, and downed it in one swallow. My eyes darted towards Ciro to see if he was seeing this shit, because that brand of cognac was supposed to be savored, not abused.

  And Luca never abused his luxuries.

&
nbsp; “I was there last night,” he finally said, his dark gaze continuously dancing back and forth between mine and Ciro’s. “We talked for about two hours or so.” People said Luca didn’t have a soul, but he did. Massimo’s sickness and impending death was hard on all of us. “He gave me an update on his condition, and he was completely honest when he said he had only a few days left. Maybe a week.”

  The silence in the room was heavy. We saw evil all the time. Hell, we were evil. Things like this shouldn’t happen to good people, and Massimo was as good as a person could get.

  This time Luca’s eyes stayed glued to mine as he said the last thing I ever expected him to say. “I’m going to go get Francesca tomorrow.”

  My entire body stilled.

  My heart stopped, and my blood turned to ice in my veins.

  Frankie.

  We’ve always known where she was, who she was with, and what she was doing. The night she walked out on us, she was only allowed to go under the condition that she was never really gone. Of course, she didn’t know that we knew every minute of how she spent her days, but we weren’t going to apologize for it. At the end of the day, no matter how pissed off she was at us, she was Ciro Mancini’s sister, Luca Benetti’s best friend, and the love of my life. She would always be protected.

  Ciro didn’t say anything, but I knew his eyes were on me the same as Luca’s. I finally managed to find my voice. “Frankie,” I repeated, tossing back my whiskey. Fuck savoring.

  “She’s the only person from the neighborhood that doesn’t know about Massimo yet,” Luca explained. “And he made it clear he’d like to see her before it’s too late.” I knew Luca wasn’t asking permission. His decision was already cemented in his dark gaze. “I’m not going to deny that man whatever it is in my power to grant him.”

  I didn’t blame him.

  I couldn’t.

  Massimo was a good man, and he gave himself to us lost, neglected children and, if he wanted to see Frankie, then it’s the least he deserved.