Broken Saint : a mafia romance (Mafia Mayhem Series)

by E. M. Gayle

  Broken Saint

  EM Gayle

  GYPSY INK BOOKS

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Also by E.M. Gayle

  Books Writing As Eliza Gayle

  1

  Catherine

  June 2nd

  Five years ago

  With more than a little trepidation, I slid the glass door open that led to our backyard and stepped out into the oppressive heat. Las Vegas the first week of June might as well have been the dead of summer. With temperatures already hovering at or over 100 degrees, it felt like we'd completely skipped over spring.

  I smoothed down my new black dress, the latest prototype of my own design, and skirted my way around the small pond that defined this area of the estate and headed in the direction of my father's casita.

  His private domain.

  While the main house was open to family and guests alike, only a select few were allowed to enter my father's private space. And none without invitation.

  I couldn't remember the last time I'd been allowed out here.

  Well, that wasn't true.

  Thanks to my father's knack for cruelty and harsh discipline, that night had been etched into my brain for all eternity. Hence my trepidation now. I would have been fine if I never had to step another foot into his domain for the rest of my life.

  Guests for my party had already begun to arrive, and I didn't want to miss a second. The caterers had already set up inside, and the party planners had gone above and beyond with the decorations. I needed to be there. Since my birthday happened to fall on graduation night, my entire class had been invited, including the boy I hoped would take the gift of my virginity I intended to give him.

  Not as something incredibly precious so much as a thing I desperately wanted to get rid of, and if I had to pick anyone to give it to, it might as well be the broody bad boy with his bad ass motorcycle and the sexy scar on his left check that no one knew how he got.

  My unforgiving father would hate him. Not that I needed his approval. Those days were long gone. Eighteen might have been a little young to be this jaded, but growing up in a crime family, where keeping secrets was the job du jour, didn't make for an easy high school experience.

  In fact, I'd had to fight to even be allowed into a public school. Luckily, my mother had argued for normalcy, and my father had a difficult time saying no to her. She was the only one who could get under the rock hard exterior he called skin.

  Although, let's be real. If not for the fact my brothers wanted to go to school instead of being home schooled, she would not have given a damn about my requests. Whatever they wanted, they got. Because they were they precious heirs.

  Swallowing down the bitterness, I stepped up to the door and knocked.

  I hoped like hell whatever meager kindness my father would bestow on me for the sake of my birthday, he would do it fast.

  I didn't want to leave Shane waiting too long. He'd promised me a ride on the back of his bike, and I couldn't wait to have his hard body pressed between my thighs much longer.

  I was nothing if not unconventional and sleeping with some perfect do-gooder like a jock was not ever going to be my style if I had anything to say about it, and I certainly did.

  Francisco jerked the door open, a mean scowl stamped across his face. "What took you so long?" he asked.

  I didn't care for his tone, but as my father's right-hand man I was expected to show him a certain amount of respect. There were rules and etiquette in this world. Rules that had been driven into me over and over again.

  Break a rule, get punished.

  Break two rules, the punishment gets worse.

  Break three rules, and well, I didn't know exactly what would happen at that point, but I had a vivid imagination, and I could imagine no one would like it. Especially me.

  "The party," I answered. "I had to get ready and greet my guests."

  Francisco mumbled something under his breath, which I chose to ignore, stepped back, and motioned for me to enter.

  I stood there for a moment, taking in the space I hardly recognized. Obviously, it had been redecorated since my last visit, but beyond that it still felt foreign. How could an office less than one hundred yards from my house be nothing I knew about?

  "Go on now. He's waiting."

  The surreal moment ended as I followed the hallway to the room near the back. I remembered at least that much. The hallway opened to what would have normally been a large living space on the left and a kitchen on the right. However, the living space had become his office and the kitchen removed and relocated to what had probably once been a dining room off of the entry.

  I found my father at his desk, bent over some paperwork as he hastily scribbled something across them with his pen.

  He also wasn't alone. Another man about my father's age that I did not recognize sat at his desk. My mother stood by his side. She didn't look at me as I entered, instead, she watched my father. Always the devoted wife.

  "Father." I had a difficult time making that word come out of my mouth. Once upon a time, he had been simply Daddy, and it still stung that my childhood connection with the man I'd clung to had been broken.

  It had happened at thirteen. I'd been with a group of my friends at the mall, shopping and laughing. I don't even know why I did it. I had money in my purse. A credit card from my mother. But there had been something about the way the saleswoman had sneered at me when I'd inquired about the cost of the tube of lip gloss I coveted. I couldn't even remember now what she'd said. I only remembered thinking how outrageous a number it had been. I'd dropped it on the counter and started to walk away.

  The woman behind the counter however, had said something snarky about me wasting her time and turned away to what she probably thought would be a better customer. I'd gotten so mad at her attitude that I'd turned back before I realized and swiped that lip gloss from the counter and dropped it into my bag.

  Satisfaction and triumph had filled me as I headed back to my friends near the door. It wasn't until someone grabbed my arm I'd realized the mistake I'd made.

  "Miss, you need to come with me."

  Panic seized me then, much like it did now, as my father lifted his head, a frown marring his good looks. At age forty-nine he didn't yet show any signs of aging other than a few fine lines around his eyes and mouth. However, unlike my mother, who smiled on occasion, he never looked anything but serious.

  I don't know why I expected kindness from him now. He'd proven that night, when Francisco threatened to cut my fingers off, that his love for me had limits.

  "Catherine." He returned my greeting as coldly as I had greeted him. "Take a seat."

  My stomach twisted further as I moved to the only empty chair in front of his desk and did as told. I figured the less resistance I displayed, the quicker he would get this over. I was sure he had to get back to work, and I would be nothing more than a brief diversion.

  "Now that you're an adult, it's time for you to step up for this family. You have a duty and it's time to be fulfilled."
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  My duty? What the hell was he talking about?

  Since when did he allow a woman, even family, within ten feet of his business?

  "What do you mean?" I tried to keep my voice even, but it wasn't easy. The unease in my stomach had grown exponentially, and I didn't know how to react.

  "Your duty as my daughter. I have just struck a generous deal for your hand with Arnald Onofrio and I've called you here to make it official. While I know it seems sudden to you, you should know that I have taken the utmost care to get the best deal for you that I could, all things considered. So tonight, you are to become the wife of Arnald."

  "Wife," I choked. He couldn't possibly mean what it sounded like. No way. "I don't understand."

  He looked up from the paperwork he had returned to and narrowed his eyes. "Don't play coy with me, Catherine. I didn't raise a stupid child."

  How the hell would you know? I wanted to yell. He hadn't raised shit. My mother took care of everything for him. Well, that wasn't entirely true. My father had taught me lessons in intolerance and hatred. The latter, I was feeling more than ever before.

  "You expect me to get married? Right now? I'm in the middle of a party with all my friends from school."

  "This is what you were raised to do. So yes, you will be getting married right now. I made sure your mother was present so you wouldn't feel so overwhelmed, and she was gracious enough to make all the arrangements."

  "Overwhelmed? Is that some kind of joke?

  "I never joke. Especially not about business matters. I'll admit, I hadn't planned to do this quite yet, but as it turns out, my virgin daughter is far more valuable than I thought. Your mother has already taken the liberty of packing up your things and after the ceremony and formal consummation ritual, you and your new husband are headed to the airport."

  "He is taking you to Italy for your honeymoon. Isn't that exciting?" My mother injected.

  My head was spinning faster the more my father talked. Although I did notice that the man sitting next to me, my proposed future husband, had yet to utter a word. I turned to look at him, noticing first the deep scowl etched into his face. For some reason he looked no happier than I did over all of this.

  I couldn't speak. I mean, I opened my mouth and attempted to push words out, but they wouldn't come. Shock had taken over.

  I wanted to vomit.

  Not that I would give him the satisfaction.

  My father was out of his mind. He had to be. But why was my mother just standing there? Even that question wouldn't come out.

  I blinked a couple of times, hoping that somehow this really was a dream, but nothing changed. My father continued to pen words without sparing me another glance.

  "Go ahead into the other room where the priest is waiting for you, Catherine. In this case, there is no need for a grand ceremony or thousands of dollars wasted. We will be in as soon as the paperwork is completed."

  His cold demand uttered so matter of factly and with no emotion fired something in my brain.

  "I am not getting married." My words were measured and low, but I knew he heard them.

  He slowly raised his head. "Excuse me?"

  I straightened my spine and sat up straight. He might not know it yet, hell, I wasn't sure I knew it yet, but I was more my father's daughter than either of us knew.

  "I have already accepted an internship in New York. A designer is interested in working with me to develop my designs. I am supposed to leave in two days."

  "That's outrageous. Why was I not informed?" He glanced at my mother, who suddenly looked as frightened as I felt.

  "I didn't know," she said, hesitating before she continued. "I swear, Anthony. She's obviously been keeping secrets from both of us."

  He scrutinized my mother for a minute more before he finally turned back to me. We had embarrassed him, and I knew there would be hell to pay later.

  "No matter. You will cancel. This family is far more important than a young girl's silly dream. Besides, it's all arranged. And in case you were wondering, young lady, your mother threw away all your artwork. Your husband does not need you to clutter his home with your incessant sketching."

  I shook my head, trying to clear the fog of disbelief. This could not be happening. "What did I do to make you hate me so much?" It may have been a question he would never answer, but I couldn't keep the need to know inside.

  He sat back and stared at me. Seconds ticked by as he steepled his fingers in front of him and seemed to contemplate me and my words. When I was about to break from the silence he finally leaned forward to answer.

  "I don't hate you, Catherine. Far from it. But like it or not, you are part of this family, and as such, you have a duty to do what is best for the family. This is what we do. There are no other options."

  I knew he wasn't just referring to him, my mother or my siblings. The family in our life had a much larger scope than it did for most people. The family comprised everyone inside his business—all the way from the top to the bottom.

  I seemed to fall at the bottom.

  I might be the boss's daughter, but that only meant so much. When it came to the business, everyone had their own role. My mother's duty was to raise his children, keep their home and personally support my father. My brothers' duty was to follow in our father's footsteps, learn the business, and probably, also marry for the good of the family. Love clearly didn't factor in at all.

  "Please, father. I'm not ready for this. I need to go to college, gain some experience. I need more time."

  Again, he went silent as if thinking about my words or maybe at least considering them. I wasn't sure, but I was frozen, unable to take a breath for the small sliver of hope still filling my chest.

  "The family needs your cooperation, Catherine. To defy me is to betray me. I'm sure you understand the limitations we all face."

  Did I? Until this moment, I hadn't truly considered it. Had I been too naive? I'd made plans without consulting anyone, knowing darn well it wasn't going to go over well. But still...

  "What if you gave me some time? What good do I have to offer this man with no experience in anything? Just a few years. I'm certain then I could offer much more to the family than I can now."

  He shook his head and slammed his palm down on his desk. "Enough arguing. You embarrass me with your begging. I have made my decision, and it's final. You will do as you are told, or I will have Francisco help you do the right thing."

  My future husband snorted. "I like that she is feisty. It will actually be my pleasure to break her for you."

  My father shot him a hard look, but said nothing. The dark cloud on his face scared the hell out of me, as did the idea of Francisco helping me with anything. That bastard took pleasure in hurting people.

  "Sandra, take her in the other room and prepare her. We will join you momentarily."

  My mother nodded before rounding the desk and grabbing my arm in a surprisingly hard grip. Not once had she ever touched me in anger, but I could feel it now. It practically radiated off of her.

  As for my father...

  How could he be so callous? What the hell was wrong with him? If he thought—

  Wait.

  An idea sprang into my mind. One so desperate it just might work. If it didn't get me killed first.

  2

  Rock

  Six weeks ago

  Sitting in the dark corner of a casino bar on a Saturday night was not my idea of fun. But it was what the job called for, and I was nothing if not dedicated to my work. A deep sigh filled my chest. The woman I'd been waiting for had yet to show, and it looked like, for the first time in weeks, she was going to break her pattern and not come in for her nightly drink.

  Which meant I could have gone home to my shitty apartment hours ago with some fucking takeout and a beer or three. When exactly was the last time I'd gotten home before midnight?

  I didn't want to actually state the answer because in truth, it had been a long damn time. The sex trafficking case I
'd finally resolved a few months ago had consumed my life for years, and I'd forgotten what my normal life was supposed to be.

  Taking down one crime family out of Seattle and their foreign counterpart hadn't changed much though. Being a mob hunter was pretty much like playing a sick and twisted game of whack-a-mole. You take one down and two more just like them pop back up, and so and so on. That was never going to make for a "normal" life.

  I should have taken a fucking vacation.

  A trip to some tropical island where I could have found a hot chick in a bikini to ride my dick for a couple of weeks might have been nice. Or maybe taken a face plant into some pussy and gorged after a long drought. I'd certainly deserved it.

  What had I done instead?

  Picked up a new case the next morning. This one seemingly revolved around a mafia boss right here in Vegas. This town had no shortage of those fuckers. Couldn't walk down the street without tripping over one or two of them.

  Anthony Cullotta. He made Frank Mazzeo almost look like a choir boy. His transgressions were a mile long, and getting longer every day, after an apparent truce between his family and the Rossi family in Italy. Something big was brewing, and it made everyone nervous, from top brass down to the field agents.

  My network of confidential informants weren't always the most reliable, so I had to take a lot of the information I received with a grain of salt. But the FBI had eyes and ears everywhere so it wasn't too difficult to piece together a decent picture of how the network worked. Proving it all in a court of law, however, was an entirely different story.