by Kitty Thomas
“My brother thinks he’s too good for us. He’s always thought so,” Angelo said. “May as well rub our noses in it with this fine house, better than anything any of us have, because he can justify it with the IRS. All bought with his honest money that he flaunts at us every Christmas.”
On top of everything, Angelo had to bring the money up again. Well, why not? It was overdue. “I don’t think that. All I’ve said is that there are alternatives. Either own what you do, or don’t do it, but stop fucking whining about it and making excuses. But that’s not the point of this meeting, and you know it. Faith is not a threat. She doesn’t know anything more than what anybody can find with an Internet search.”
“And we know that how?” Leo’s Uncle Bernie asked. Uncle Sal had already voiced his issues.
“I’m too old for this shit,” Carmine interjected.
“Papi…” Leo said.
“What? It’s the truth. We need to move to the front business and forget the back business. It’s not like it used to be.”
“Right. Because there’s a ton of dough in carpet installation,” Vinny said. “How would we feed our families?” It was one of many businesses, and at least on paper, it was successful. The Raspallo front businesses ran more to casinos in Vegas and construction work in New York. It was hard to prove bids were rigged. And a little illegal gambling alongside the legal stuff was easier to paper over, especially given that most mob families had largely abandoned Vegas, so the heat was elsewhere.
“You work in Vegas at the casino now. You wouldn’t be doing installation,” Leo’s grandfather retorted, still remarkably sharp for nearing ninety.
“I just want to do the sandwich shop,” Fabrizio said.
“Oh, so you’re out of the business, now,” Angelo said. “Maybe you’re the liability.”
“Hey!” Leo said. “Leave him alone. Even if he ran a sandwich shop, you know he’s not going to sing. No more than I would. Aren’t we all self-employed in our own ways? Can’t we respect each other’s choices without acting like everybody who does something different has gone Judas?”
“I didn’t say I was out of the business,” Fabrizio said. “I’m saying if we all went straight…” Fabrizio must have rethought the extra connotation of that word and changed midstream. “…Honest… if we all went honest, I’d do the sandwich business. I’m just saying I’m not into carpet installation, all right?”
“Nobody is seriously considering doing carpet installation,” Angelo said, as if the idea turned his stomach.
“Papi is.”
Carmine cleared his throat from across the room. “When I formed this family, I mirrored what the Ndrangheta in Calabria does… keeping it all in the family or married in. It’s easier to keep the omerta and harder for the feds to work their way in.”
Leo’s gaze shifted to Davide. Davide wasn’t married in, but then he’d been in already. Papi had started the family with a few friends who weren’t related, and Davide was the grandson of one of those friends. Same with Vinny. But ever since then they’d been strict about who they allowed to join. A blood relation of one of the original members, or married to one of their women. There was no other way in, and Papi wasn’t wrong. It had made their organization harder to penetrate and kept most of them out of the system. And when they did go away, it was always for something relatively small.
Carmine took a sip of his drink and continued. “I wanted a tight ship, not all this fighting. It was the idea that eventually we’d get out when there were better opportunities, but even with what we do, we’re no more corrupt than most of the corporations of the world. Aren’t we doing the same things? Bribing the government to operate how we like? They call it lobbying. But we’re all using the same playbook. You think there isn’t crime and death in most large corporations? What about the pharmaceutical companies? You’re in medicine, Leo, tell me that’s not corrupt as hell. Tell me thousands or hundreds of thousands of people aren’t dying each year because of drugs rushed through the FDA that aren’t safe. Your Grammie almost died from one of them last spring.”
“I can’t argue with you, Papi,” Leo said.
“Damn right, you can’t. Their hands are stained with blood, yet it’s respectable, but what we do isn’t? And don’t get me started on the government. The government is mafia. Big corporations are mafia. They all screw the little guy, intimidate, threaten, and harm. They’re all out for money and power. The only difference is public tolerance. I want us to go honest to get out from under the law, but what does going honest mean? Everyone with power and money is mafioso. Every single person.”
“Even Leo?” Angelo piped up.
“Leo’s a part of this family whether or not he chooses to be involved with everything we do. I can’t speak to the honesty of his business. I’m sure there are exceptions.”
“Of course. He’s the golden child. We all take huge risks for this family, and Leo gets a free pass. He forgets those stock scams that financed his honest business.”
“That’s enough, Angelo,” Papi said.
Angelo sank into a chair with his cigar and brandy and pouted like he was twelve.
It could be argued that Papi was an old man talking nonsense, or that in his old age he sought justification for his life of crime, but there was an eerie level of truth in his words.
“Things used to be so much better,” Sal said. “This all used to mean something. And now we’ve got this shit with Faith. How much can we trust her? Women aren’t like us. They’ll talk sooner if they feel threatened or scared. They can’t keep the omerta like we will.”
Unlike other families, the women had been strictly forbidden from doing anything illegal. No drugs, no shady dealings. They weren’t even allowed to smoke pot. It might be sexist, but it was true. Women talked easier. They betrayed easier. They had a lower threshold for pain, and most of them couldn’t be trusted to keep the code of silence. It was work for the men and only the men.
“Nobody is hurting the girl,” Papi said. “I’m still boss of this family. If anyone lays a finger on her, they’ll be dealing with me. Leo loves this girl. They’re getting married. So what if she knows we’re mafia? If you think your women don’t suspect this family is mixed up in crime or that most of us have killed someone at one point or another, you’ve all got your heads up your collective asses. You know they know, or at least suspect to the point that actually knowing would make little difference. But they’ve got plausible deniability. That’s what’s important. And we keep it that way. Understand?”
Leo let out a breath at Papi’s pronouncement of protection over Faith.
“Fine,” Uncle Sal said.
“Whatever,” Angelo said. As if Angelo had intended to kill her. He had to keep up appearances. If Uncle Sal caught wind of how Faith had come to be here, it would be his head on a pike.
Everyone else nodded.
The mood in the room lightened and Davide said, “Hey, I was in Greenwich Village the other day and I saw a T-shirt that said New York City, Family owned and operated since 1920.”
Several of the guys chuckled; even Papi cracked a grin at that. Despite his grandfather’s talk and hopes, Leo knew the family wouldn’t ever go honest, but he also knew the old man was proud of the way Leo had made his money. Carmine lifted a glass to his grandson and Leo nodded in return.
***
Faith had been lying in bed tossing and turning for close to an hour when there was a knock on the door.
“Leo?” she said as she approached, wrapping a robe around her. She was a split second from opening it when she heard a drunk voice on the other end.
“You stupid cunt,” Angelo slurred from the other side. “I ought to kill you. Do you know the trouble you’ve caused for this family? You aren’t doing your job. Why aren’t you doing what all good sluts do? My brother owns you, bitch. He owns you. You owe him gratitude and blow jobs and anal and whatever fucked-up shit he’s into for stepping in to save you.”
Faith backed away,
stumbling over the foot of the bed in her attempt to get to the intercom.
A groggy Demetri answered when she pressed the button. “Yes, Miss Jacobson?”
“Angelo is outside my door, drunk,” she whispered.
Demetri became alert, and the touch of annoyance evaporated from his voice. “It’ll be taken care of.”
A few minutes later there was arguing on the other side of the door and then silence and then another knock. This time, Faith didn’t make a move, having learned that lesson—almost the hard way.
“Faith, let me in. I don’t have my key on me.”
She released the breath she’d been holding and let Leo in.
“Get your cat and come with me.”
“W-where are we going?” Although it was ludicrous, by this point she worried he’d lock her in the dungeon and tell the family they had a fight and broke up. Angelo was right about the trouble her presence was causing.
“You’re sleeping in my room.” He must have seen the fear that passed over her face, because he continued with, “I need you where I can keep you from my brother. He’s not going to start banging on my door and being an ass in the middle of the night.”
Faith tied the robe around her and bent to pick up Squish, who’d been rubbing against her legs and purring, oblivious to the surrounding drama.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she took Leo’s warm hand. In spite of everything that had happened tonight and the heightened danger and seeing Leo’s anger and Gemma’s warnings about her brother’s dishonesty, Faith couldn’t help the way she felt safe with him. Her hand in his had become a welcome comfort.
Even so, sleeping in his room reminded her of when he’d first brought her home. Would he try something now? She was surprised to find her attitude to that possibility had shifted when she wasn’t paying attention. Being the object of his protection, and the displays of public affection he’d shown her for the sake of the family, had done a funny thing to her heart. Now the idea of sleeping with him didn’t seem quite so terrifying or horrible.
But it didn’t mean she was stupid.
When they reached his room, she dropped the cat on the floor, who went right up to the love seat Max was curled on and hissed. The dog jolted from a dead sleep at the sight of her and leapt off the furniture at her demand. She stretched in the spot he’d made warm for her and then flicked her claws a couple of times before snuggling into the soft fabric. Max did the dog equivalent of a shrug and slunk to the chair, curling his large body into the smaller space that would have been better suited for the cat, had Squish been willing to settle for second best of anything.
Leo locked the bedroom door and shook his head at the animals. “I think Max doesn’t realize he ever got bigger than a puppy and can actually defend himself.”
Faith stood frozen on her side of the bed. Would he make her sleep naked again?
“Get in bed.”
“I… um…” She blushed.
“Take off the robe and get in bed. It’s after three. I don’t do well on little sleep.”
Leo peeled his robe off, revealing nothing underneath. Faith quickly averted her gaze from his erection. It seemed a permanent fixture of his physique.
“I can sleep on the couch,” she said.
“You are sleeping in the bed. Get in. You can wear your pajamas. I already told you I’m not going to fuck you, but you aren’t going to be in my house sleeping on a damn couch.”
Had he lost interest? What a stupid question. Her gaze flitted briefly back to his hard on. Of course he hadn’t lost interest. And why should she care anyway? Didn’t she want to be safe from him? Wasn’t having her own space in this house the kindest thing he’d done for her? Maybe it was the adrenaline of fighting with his brother and no real outlet to release any of that pent up energy.
She took off the robe and slid into bed, tense and waiting for… anything.
But the bed was large, and it wasn’t difficult for him to sprawl comfortably on his side without touching her. She held her body rigid for several minutes before allowing herself to relax. He wasn’t going to touch her. She quickly buried the unexpected disappointment that accompanied that realization.
“Leo?”
He sighed. “Yes, Faith?”
“Do they want to kill me?”
“Nobody is killing anybody. Go to sleep.”
A few more minutes of silence passed. Then, “Leo?”
“Yes, Faith?”
“T-the stuff you do in the dungeon… is that why you were going to become a priest?” It was the only thing Faith could think of that Leo might have been trying to suppress.
“Yes. Go to sleep.”
She had more questions, but they were things she’d never ask him. Things about Emilio to convince herself that the death Leo had meted out wasn’t only deserved but had come from protective urges and nothing else. A kind of self-defense by proxy. She could cope with self-defense. Uncontrolled violence for its own sake, she couldn’t.
Gemma’s voice drifted into her mind. And I suspect he wasn’t quick about it. What made her suspect that? Had he tortured Emilio? Was that another flavor of whatever was inside him that he needed the priesthood to erase?
How long had he harbored the desire to hurt Gemma’s husband before he’d snapped? How long before he snapped with Faith in other ways?
Chapter Eleven
Morning was heralded by kids running down the hallways banging on doors and shouting for everyone to get up. The cacophony resembled a frat house filled with unruly college boys. Faith glanced at the wall clock to find it was seven-thirty. A tiny strip of sunlight slipped between the heavy curtains at the far end of the room. The cat was already lying in the beam.
Squish twisted her head and yawned at Faith, then went back to sleep.
Leo rolled over and pressed a pillow over his head. “Goddamn kids. And my mother wants me to have a house full of them. If she likes them so much, they can live with her.”
Faith sat up against the headboard and stared at the glittering diamond on her hand. Even in low light, it was dazzling. “This isn’t going to work.”
“What isn’t?” His voice was muffled underneath the pillow.
“This. All of it. We can’t maintain this lie forever. Half your family wants me dead so I’m not a threat. The other half wants me to have babies. This is a mess. I wish Angelo had shot me and been done with it.”
But it wasn’t just that. It was the carrots that were being dangled in front of her that weren’t real. An attractive, successful fiancé. A beautiful home. Family. Even as screwed up as Christmas Eve had been, a real family holiday with everything she’d dreamed of. The food, the laughter, the warmth. All the things she’d always wished she could have, presented to her with all the reality of fool’s gold. “Just give me back to Angelo and let him finish it.”
Leo got out of bed without a word and threw on his robe. On his way out the door, he said, “Don’t leave this room.”
Ten minutes later, he returned with a grumpy, yet fully dressed, Angelo. Leo locked the door and came to stand next to the bed. Faith’s eyes widened at the sight of the gun with the silencer in Angelo’s hand. Despite his tiredness, his eyes lit with a malevolent gleam.
Leo’s voice cut through her mental hysteria as he looked at the gun. “Assassin’s special? Nice.”
“I still carry it from the old days before I got promoted,” Angelo said.
“Faith has decided she doesn’t want to live anymore. She’s right, this lie won’t work. So go ahead, Ange. Clean up your mess.” He crossed his arms and took a step out of his brother’s way.
“I should have killed the bitch to begin with. See, baby? This is the price of not giving my brother what he wants.”
“We don’t need the commentary,” Leo said. “Do it and get out.”
“W-what?” Faith pinched herself, sure she had to be having a nightmare. This couldn’t be real. It wasn’t until this moment that she realized she’d actually trus
ted Leo a little.
Angelo raised the gun. Leo didn’t stop him. Her instincts engaged, bypassing the denial still going strong in the forefront of her mind. She rolled out of the bed. But both Leo and Angelo were in the way of the door and she wouldn’t be able to unlock it and open it in time. She backed away, her hands held out in front of her.
“No. Leo, please. Please.” The panic started to bubble up.
The brothers moved almost as one unit toward her. If not for Leo’s scar, Faith wouldn’t know which was which right now. Leo stood the closest, with Angelo a few feet behind and to the side of him. The gun raised again, aimed to kill—not wound.
Having nowhere to go, she dropped to her knees. “Please don’t let him do this. I don’t want to die. Please. Please. Please.”
A moment later, the gun went off, and even with the silencer, it was the loudest sound in the world. The bullet lodged in the wall, a couple of inches above her head.
She fought not to hyperventilate as she looked up for Leo’s reaction. Maybe he was bluffing. Maybe he would be angry at Angelo—if for no other reason than for the bullet hole in his wall. But his face remained stoic, cold. It was as if a switch had flipped inside him. There was nobody home. She was locked in a room with identical sociopaths.
Even so, she scooted closer, pressing her face against his leg, as if getting close enough to her former protector would prevent a bullet from going through her. “Please, don’t do this, Leo. I’m sorry. Please. I’ll do whatever you want. Please. Please.”
Had Angelo meant to miss? The slightest miscalculation would have killed her. Or maybe it was the slightest miscalculation that had left her breathing. It was impossible to determine the true scenario.
“Faith, I’m going to say this once,” Leo said. “I have sacrificed everything for you. Any hope of the kind of life I would want for myself. All so you can live, because I can’t take more blood on my hands. I’ve chosen not to violate you. Everything I’ve done has been unselfish and for your safety and interest. I’m sorry that your life as you knew it has been taken from you. I’m sorry you’re in this situation, but the words you speak have consequences. Do not ever imply you want to die or wish Angelo had killed you again, unless you are truly ready for death, because you might bluff, but we don’t. Do you understand?”
