Monster Inside Me: Volume I (A Dark Mafia Romance Book 1)

by Faye Byrd

  With a proud flourish, he grabs his whiskey and sits back, looking completely satisfied with himself. My brows furrow as I shift my eyes to Henry, who just shakes his head with a little chuckle. Fucking facepalm. I stretch my leg out and nudge Pop’s foot, bringing him back to the present.

  “You were saying?” I prod, completely ignoring the fact that he took a visit to La La Land.

  “Oh, yes!” He sits up straighter and excitedly takes a sip of his whiskey. “The year was 1938, and your great-grandfather, Tony, was the Boss of the Outfit. Now, he hadn’t been in charge long, as his father was assassinated only a couple years earlier. But by this point, Prohibition was over, and the Outfit was expanding its enterprises.”

  I nod along because our history is something I’m familiar with. Antonio Simone was an efficient and fucking ruthless Boss. The Outfit prospered greatly under his long-standing rule, only to falter in ’76 when my grandfather, Salvatore, took over after Tony’s death from natural causes.

  My grandfather was a disappointment like no other. The Outfit almost crumbled during his short nine-year rule. He killed himself in early ’85 after a local gang murdered my grandmother for revenge against him. At this point, my pop was only twenty-six, but he stepped the fuck up. He chose a wife and took over the family, producing two male heirs and moving the business into the twenty-first century.

  “What nobody knew, though,” my father continues, breaking me from my thoughts, “is that by this time, a Chicago P.D. officer had infiltrated the Outfit, even making it so far as to being inducted. Chester Tate had been working the case for eight years already, proving himself and moving up in the ranks. He’d already made Capo before Tony’s father died.”

  My brows climb up my goddamn forehead. This is some serious shit. The fact that it’s not a known story tells me that something happened—something big. The only cop I’ve ever heard of infiltrating the organization was a Fed named Ernesto Branzo, who entered under my grandfather’s rule. In ’87, my pop discovered his deceit and made an example out of him. He was tortured, cut up into tiny fucking pieces, and dropped to the bottom of Lake Michigan. Only his lips were held back, and they were delivered to the local office anonymously.

  “Now here’s the kicker.” Stefano sits up straighter and swirls his glass, watching the amber liquid as it rolls around the edges. “All this time, Chester had a family on the other side of town. He’d sneak and visit when he could but kept them hidden from the Outfit.”

  I shake my head. “There’s no way that shit could happen now. It’s hard to imagine there were times when everything you ever wanted to know wasn’t at your fingertips.”

  The Boss’ eyes sharpen for the first time since he started this little tale, and they zero in on me like frozen shards of ice. “Yes, Dante, I can imagine it. I fucking lived it. I ran this organization from rotary phones to cordless to cells and everything that came after.” His voice softens now, but only a little. “The question is, son, will you be able to keep up as the advances continue coming?”

  I scoff and wave that shit off like it’s nothing. “With Ivan by my side, we’ll be the ones making the advances.”

  “But that’s where you’re wrong,” Stefano says as he leans forward and places his glass on the coffee table. “Ivan isn’t one of us. He may want something different one day. Something that takes him away from here.”

  “That’s not what we’re discussing,” I say, shaking my head defiantly and waving between Agent Tate and my father. “Back to the story at hand.”

  Though Ivan isn’t one of us, he stays close and helps me, probably more than he fucking should. I’m willing to admit that it’s wrong of me to expect, but I like things just how they are. Aside from Pop and Joseph, there’s no one I trust more than my little brother.

  The Boss stares at me hard for a second before giving up and leaning back in his seat with a huff. “Kids these days.”

  “Tell me about it,” Henry chimes in, crossing his arms over his chest. “They think they know everything.”

  Stefano throws his head back and laughs. “Don’t I know it.” He taps Henry’s arm. “They don’t know anything about hard work. They’ve never had to do any legwork for anything. All they do nowadays is depend on those damn computers.”

  “I’m telling ya,” Henry agrees, nodding away. “Those younger agents, they think the answer to every crime can be found in cyberspace. Forget the groundwork.” He waves his hand. “Last week—”

  “Pardon me for interrupting,” I say loudly, leaning forward and motioning to get their attention. “But weren’t we in the middle of something? An important fucking discussion maybe? Because if not, I can still salvage my night with Piper.”

  Henry Tate leans forward, pointing his meaty finger toward my face. “Don’t you even speak her goddamn name!”

  “How about I make her scream my name instead?” I offer as a compromise, already expecting his overreaction.

  When he jumps from his seat, I stand and tower over him. “Don’t fuck with me, Agent,” I snarl, anger over my ruined night making a grand fucking comeback.

  “All right,” Stefano says, standing and pushing us each back in our own direction. “That’s enough, Dante,” he warns, pointing to my seat.

  “Non mi rompere il cazzo,” I mumble as I sit down, telling him to quit busting my chops.

  “Never,” he responds with a chuckle as he turns to Agent Tate. “Henry, you gotta quit letting him bait ya.”

  Agent Tate flops back onto my ten-thousand-dollar sofa and sighs. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

  The Boss smiles widely and retakes his seat, all happy again and shit. I just shake my head because what the fuck else can I do? Pop may be a little eccentric at times, but make no mistake. He’s still as sharp as a tack and has a radar as keen as anyone I know.

  “Now, where was I?” he says, and I can see him sifting through the memories. Or at least as he perceives them in his mind. “Ahh, the kidnapping. Turns out, another member of the Outfit was jealous of Chester’s ambitions and put a tail on him. When Alberto discovered Chester had a family, instead of going to Tony, he decided to make his own move. He kidnapped the wife and two kids, hoping to use them as leverage to blackmail Chester into leaving the Outfit. Of course, Chester had the Chicago P.D. behind him, but he found himself in between a rock and a hard place.”

  I nod along, catching my father’s drift. He couldn’t necessarily go to the Boss since he’d hidden them this whole time, and working with the P.D. was dangerous since he was deep undercover and had already been tailed once. But this was his family, and I imagine, his top priority. Case be damned.

  “So what’d he end up doing?” I ask, pretty fucking curious at this point.

  “He grew some fucking balls,” Pop says, lifting two cigars from his inside pocket and offering one to Agent Tate before placing the other between his lips. “He went to Tony and laid it all on the table.” He pauses as Henry takes out a Zippo and lights them both, and while I internally cringe as the smoke rises into my living room, I don’t say shit. “He pleaded for his family’s life, as Tony had the power to save them, and confessed his whole operation.”

  “Holy shit,” I say, leaning forward and propping my elbows on my knees. “You mean this cop went to Tony and told him he was undercover?”

  “Yep.” The Boss smirks. “Like I said, huge balls. Instead of killing him on the spot, Tony listened, and they came up with an arrangement. In exchange for saving his family and allowing Chester to kill Alberto personally, they agreed that he’d leave the Outfit, using the kidnapping as his excuse, and return to law enforcement.”

  “What’s the catch?” I ask, because there’s sure as hell more to the story than that. It’s eighty years later and the families are still in business, judging by the closeness of the two men who’re now sitting before me.

  “From that point forward, Chester made sure Tony was in the know about anything pertinent to the Outfit, and what’s more, when
someone in the Outfit fucked up, Chester was made aware and they were nabbed. After he died, the very son Tony saved, Charles, stepped in, only he aimed higher. He was a Federal agent.” Stefano cuts his eyes to Agent Tate and lifts a brow.

  “That was my father,” Henry adds, giving Pop the stink-eye. “I wouldn’t be alive today if it weren’t for your family, and I pay my debts.”

  The Boss chuckles fondly, nudging him in the arm. “Oh, come on, Henry. We both know it’s more than that.” He cuts his eyes back to me. “We’re friends. Have been all our lives. It was no secret my father was a scatterbrained nincompoop, so my grandfather cultivated mine and Henry’s relationship as much as possible while he was still alive, even made sure we were sent away to the same boarding school as boys. Me under an alias of course.”

  “So you’re a dirty cop,” I surmise, smirking at Agent Tate. “In the pocket of the criminals.”

  “Not at all,” he replies, delivering his own smirk. “I do my job and arrest criminals. I keep Stefano abreast of investigations that may affect him, and he occasionally sends a criminal my way. I don’t cover up things for your organization, nor do I answer to you. I simply show my gratitude by keeping my friend informed when necessary.”

  “Huh.” I sit back, scratching my brow as I consider this relationship. “So Piper and me fucking interferes with this, how?”

  Henry’s smirk falls, and the red creeps over his face. “Don’t say her name!” he says, each word distinct.

  I stand and start pacing, the whole scenario now becoming clear. “Actually,” I start, my gaze flicking between the two men, “the next generation to this twisted little game is Piper and me. So what gives? Why such a show of force to separate us?”

  Pop’s eyes land on Agent Tate before he sighs. “Sit down, son.” I comply, but in doing so, I expect a goddamn answer. “It does look bad for the agent in charge of the Organized Crime Division’s daughter to be associated with a Simone, but it’s more than that.” He drops his cigar into his whiskey glass, much to my fucking displeasure, and sits forward. “When Henry realized, many years ago, that Piper would be his only child, he made a decision and I agreed. As long as he lives, our deal still stands. But it ends with him. When Rita left him, he let Piper go to keep her safe, away from his life as an agent and away from us. He’s kept her at arm’s length all these years so she’d never know this part of his life. He never expected her to show up here.”

  I brush my hands over my face and up through my hair as I think this fucking shit over. The relationship with Henry means shit to me; I have my own cops in the know. But the one with my Boss does, and apparently, he gives a fuck about how this plays out ... but to what extent, I wonder.

  Slipping my hand under the edge of the cherry end table, I relish in the weight of power as my fingers close around the handle. “So while you’re still alive, this arrangement is ongoing?” I ask, lifting my hand to aim my compact but powerful R9 Stealth Elite right between his eyes. “Because I can end that shit right now.”

  “Dante,” the Boss warns, eyeing the Ruger he laid on the end table earlier. “Don’t do something stupid.”

  I lift a daring brow. “The way I see it, if Henry’s dead, the arrangement is over, and Piper’s free to make her own decisions.”

  “You’re not going to do this, son,” my father states clearly and concisely. “Think of how Piper would feel if you killed her father.” When my eyes jump to his, he smirks, and in my moment of hesitance, the agent has his own gun aimed at my fucking head.

  “Even as a boy, you could never follow the rules—” Henry’s jaw snaps shut and his eyes cut to my father, where they share a tense look before zeroing back in on me. “Here’s the deal, son,” he says snidely, and my finger tightens on the trigger. “I tried taking the reasonable route, but it looks like that’s not going to work, so this is what’s going to happen. If I catch you with my daughter again, I. Will. End. You.”

  I can’t fucking help it. I burst out laughing. Special Agent Henry Fucking Tate is in my penthouse, brought in by my own fucking father, and is threatening me. But when I realize that same father is simply staring, waiting for my reply, the laughter dies.

  “Are you fucking serious right now?” I ask my pop with wide eyes, my aim as steady as ever. “You gonna let him threaten me in my own home?”

  The Boss sighs and waves his hand between Henry and me, as if the stand-off means nothing to him. “Son, I hoped it would never come to this. But leave it to you to pull this kind of stunt.”

  My eyes widen to the size of goddamn saucers. “Pull this kind of stunt?” I repeat incredulously. “Did you forget you had a gun aimed at Piper’s head not even one fucking hour ago?”

  He shakes his head. “I was trying to prevent this very situation. Why is this so important to you? You planning on marrying this broad or something? There’s pussy everywhere.” His arms go up in exasperation.

  “Fuck no. I’m not marrying her,” I respond, just the idea freaking me the fuck out, but still, I didn’t even get a chance to get to know her.

  Pop leans forward and points his finger at me. “Look, Dante, I’m done here. Henry knows the consequences of his actions, and now you do, too. He left her to keep her away from this life, and I hope you’ll honor that.”

  Un-fucking-believable.

  I grip the R9 even tighter and set my laser stare back on the fuckwit who thinks it’s okay to come into my home and point a gun at me. “Get the fuck out,” I grit very slowly. “Get the fuck out of my house and don’t ever let me see you again.”

  Pop stands and grabs his Ruger, holstering it inside his suit jacket. “Come on, Henry. Let’s leave him to stew over all he’s learned tonight.”

  Agent Tate lifts a brow in my direction before standing. “The only reason you’ll ever have to see me again is if I’m there to put a bullet between your eyes.”

  Never lowering my arm, I keep him in my sights as he and my pop make their way to the elevator, with seemingly not a care in the world. But he better fucking care, because I won’t let this shit slide.

  Once the doors have closed, I smirk and lower my weapon.

  “Game on, motherfucker.”

  FIVE

  EVEN MORE PATHETIC

  I flip the last of the blueberry pancakes and move to take the bacon from the frying pan, placing it on the rack to drain. “How do you want your eggs?” I ask over my shoulder.

  “Eh, scrambled is fine,” Ivan replies as he sits at my marble island, sipping orange juice.

  The soothing sound of Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 21 in C major filters through the surround sound as I work to finish up breakfast, scrambling eggs and taking the pancakes from the griddle. When everything’s ready, I arrange the food on a platter and pour the warmed maple syrup into a small pitcher.

  “Here we are.” I smile as I lay the platter on the bar top.

  Ivan’s baby blues peer at me over the square glasses that are perched halfway down his nose. “Who are you, and where’s my brother?”

  I chuckle as I grab two plates and our eating utensils, placing one in front of him and keeping the other for myself. “You know I like to fucking cook.”

  He smiles then, the first real smile I’ve seen this morning. “There he is.”

  I roll my fucking eyes, but he’s right. Ever since my talk with Henry and Pop the night before last, I’ve felt off fucking kilter—like torn and shit. On the one hand, Henry’s stance is goading me into challenging him; I burn to show him who the fuck is running this show. But then I think of Piper, goddamn sexy as fuck Piper, who doesn’t deserve me using her as a tool to piss off her dad.

  If only he’d kept his fucking nose out of our business, we could’ve had our fun, gotten it out of our system, and moved the hell on. And yeah, I’m dying to finish what we started in the elevator, but the whole shit is complicated now—more complicated than it ever needed to be.

  “Hey,” Ivan says, waving his fork in front of my face. “You gonna
eat that bacon?” He points to the pieces that are still on the platter because my dumb ass got lost in thought and only put two pancakes on my plate.

  I wave it away. “Go ahead. This is good enough for me.” Lifting the syrup, I soak the blueberry goodness.

  “So,” he starts as he spears the remaining slices of bacon, transferring them to his plate. “What’s up? You need something?”

  I ignore his question for a second, chewing my food slowly and mentally assessing the buttery fluffiness of the pancake. Finally, I say, “Yeah, I think I do.”

  Ivan’s fork clatters to his plate, but I fucking ignore him and shovel more pancake into my mouth. “What the fuck, dude? When have you ever stopped to think about anything?”

  “Har, har,” I say sarcastically after I’ve choked down my food. Reaching for my milk, I very nonchalantly say, “Can you get cameras covering Piper’s alley?” There, I said it. Not with as much finesse as I’d have fucking liked, but it’s done ... out there.

  Ivan shrugs like it’s no big deal. And I guess it isn’t. It’s only that way in my head since the My Two Dads reunion was all secret and shit. “Sure. It might take me a couple days, but it’ll be no problem. You interested in the new footage?”

  The milk that was passing through my esophagus takes a fucking jolt, and I’m suddenly coughing and sputtering. “There’s new footage?” I choke out, my heart thumping at the goddamn prospect.

  What the actual fuck?

  “Sure.” Ivan shrugs and narrows his eyes. “Why wouldn’t there be? I’ve been casing her for over a week.”

  I school my expression and stand to take my plate to the sink. “You done with that?” I tilt my head to his licked-clean plate. At his nod, I grab it up too. “There’s just been a lot of shit going on, and I guess I forgot.”

  I head to the sink and rinse our dinnerware before stacking it neatly into my professional stainless dishwasher. Then I get to work on the cooking utensils. I stay silent as I rinse and load each item, using the time to decide how I’m going to keep Ivan quiet when it comes to the Boss. Technically, Ivan answers to no-fucking-body, but he also sure as fuck doesn’t hide shit either. And I need my continuing to monitor Piper just that—fucking hidden.