Mobster's Gamble: Chicago Mob Series Book 1

by Amy Rachiele

  “We need to take her out of here for that?” I wonder, oddly not wanting her to leave the premises.

  “Yeah, I’ll call a friend and get her in immediately. Eight a.m. is the earliest he gets into the office.” The doc checks his phone. “It’s only a few hours away. But I will need to wake her in one to two hours to make sure there isn’t any swelling.” The doc checks her pulse again. “I will stay up with her. You two go get some sleep. You have work in the morning.”

  Alex yawns. “Let me know if you need me. I’m going back to bed. But I’m serious, Doc, you wake me if you need anything. This is some fucked up shit!”

  I gaze down at her, helpless and a complete banged up mess. “I can stay.”

  “Carlo, go to your room. I will take care of her, then first thing I will get her into an MRI.”

  My feet are rooted to the floor by her bed. I don’t want to leave. “If anything happens in the next three hours and forty-five minutes, I will call you,” I say. “Go. I’ll make sure she’s okay.”

  “I’m the doctor, Carlo. I need to be here if she goes into duress.”

  “Fuck, I’m not leaving, and I sign your paycheck.”

  Doc sighs, understanding it’s a losing battle. I go to the other side of the room, grabbing an armchair and dragging it toward the hospital bed. The screech of the protesting legs echoes in the cavernous space of his apartment. I drop my ass into the seat and lean my chin on my palm, settling in to keep watch over her. I’ve seen friends beaten this badly, I’ve watched bare-knuckled fistfights, and never during my hard upbringing have I seen anything this fucking sick. To beat a woman so badly is the worst crime in the mafia code. I may be a lot of things and I may know a lot of seedy people, but even the lowest of the low in my experience would never treat a woman this way. Pop would never allow it and would kill anyone he ran into that did shit like this. I shake my head and Doc Howie catches the movement.

  “This isn’t her first time. She has other injuries that look older and were in the process of healing. If I were to guess, over the past week she has been beaten on at least twice.” Doc Howie’s face is grim. “Do you know where she is from? I’ve examined her and she doesn’t have any injuries indicating prostitution.”

  “I know exactly where she is from. It is taking every ounce of my self-control not go put a hit out right now or personally do the deed myself. She is part of that fucking cult.”

  “Oh.” He pauses, thinking, then Doc Howie draws out his response, taking in the information. “Why bring her to me? A hospital could meet her needs better.”

  Words get stuck in my throat. Why didn’t I? She needed immediate attention. I swallow hard.

  “I trust you…” I stutter, my emotions rising to the surface, and add, “She is now under the protection of the Caruso family.”

  “I see.” I know what he is thinking. I hate that telling tone. He thinks I have some kind of connection with this girl. It’s not that. This is a shitty thing that happened to her.

  “I want the upper hand. She is Priest’s.”

  “I see.” He doesn’t believe me. To bring someone to the family floors is rare and needs to be approved by Pop unless there is a cloth bag over the visitor’s head. Pop takes no chances. “You know best. I just hope you know what you are getting yourself into.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” I flex forward in the chair, annoyed.

  “It means a lot.”

  “Why do doctors have to be so fucking cryptic sometimes?” I sulk back down, letting my feet jut out in front of me.

  “It’s what we do.”

  I jab my finger down, tapping on the armrest. “I know what I am doing.”

  “I’m going to check her pressure again.” The doc dismisses me by getting the cuff and wrapping it around the top of her arm, which is bluish green where she has been hit or held down. He puts the earpieces of his stethoscope in his ears and counts out her pulse. I notice the ratty blanket on the floor by the bed. I get up, taking the sickening thing and throwing it in the doc’s trashcan in the corner. Clothes—she is going to need them.

  Chapter 13

  Anya

  My eyes don’t want to peel open when the rays of sunlight hit my face. Am I dead? Did he kill me? I struggle to inch my eyelids from a locked position. A shock of fear trips its way down my body. Has Priest blinded me? I stir, checking to see if I can move my limbs. I take my time lifting as each one screams in protest. I raise my left hand to my face gingerly, reaching for my eyes. They seem swollen to the size of grapefruits.

  “Good, you’re awake.” The voice behind me is chipper but whispered. “Do you mind if I listen to your breathing?” Apparently, this guy is a doctor but I’m not in a hospital. The ceiling is painted gold. Not just a flat gold color but amazing swirls of golden shades.

  “Where am I?” The sound from my mouth echoing in my head is foreign to me. My mutter is rocky. I raise my arm to my tender eyes again.

  “You are at La Bella Regale Casino.” Wow, it is just as pretty as I imagined and I’ve only seen the ceiling. I try to sit up. “Lie back down please. I’m Doc Howie. You have injuries that I am not sure about. I am taking you to my friend’s office. You need an MRI.”

  “What is that?” Confused, I swivel my head. I take in the opulent room of fattened furniture in soft hues all surrounding the biggest television I have ever seen in my life.

  “It’s a machine that will tell me what is going on inside you.”

  The mild creak of a door opening gives me a start. My head jolts forward.

  Doc Howie rests a hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay. It’s just Carlo. He went to get you some clothes.”

  “Clothes? How did I end up here?” My mind is so foggy. I only know one thing very clearly. Priest and his new friends beat me again. The memory of being dragged from my bed flashes before my eyes.

  “I found you,” a husky male voice answers. It is one that I have heard before. His masculine face with dark eyes appears over the bed I’m lying on, strips of his longish black hair swishing forward as he gazes down at me. Too quick for me to read completely, an emotion crosses his features—anger, annoyance, lust?

  “Thank you,” I respond. It is the proper thing to say to someone who has given you shelter but a tingle of something other than gratitude accompanies my words. Carlo is very attractive and it makes me very uncomfortable as he looks at me. I take my gaze off him and try to move.

  “Please don’t. We are going to take you out of here right on this bed. We have hired a private ambulance.”

  “I have to leave,” I tell them. They both look to each other, perplexed and even a bit stunned at my announcement. “I don’t want you to go to any trouble over me.”

  Carlo leans forward, his face a dark mask. “Why do you have to leave?”

  “The compound. I have to get back there.”

  Carlo tilts back like I have struck him. “Are you serious? They beat you to within an inch of your life! Those fuckers...”

  A hand shoots out, pushing against Carlo’s chest. “Stop. I’ll handle this,” Doc Howie says softly.

  Doc Howie takes my battered hand in his. “You can go back if that is what you want. No one is going to stop you.”

  “Wha!” Carlo bellows and the doctor cuts him off with a glare.

  “But right now isn’t the time. I have been assigned to be your doctor.” He smiles. “I get paid very well and have very few patients. I am sorry I can’t let you go…yet.”

  The doctor turns and says very quietly to Carlo, “Leave.”

  “But…” Carlo’s hands flail in the air and slap down on his thighs in frustration.

  “Get Julius. The ambulance will be here in about ten minutes.”

  “Are you giving me orders, Doc?” Carlo looks stunned. The doctor continues holding my hand.

  “Yes, I am.”

  Carlo hesitates, a hint of betrayal crossing his face. He throws up his arms in anger and I flinch. His actions remind me so much of
Priest. Carlo storms out of the room, shutting the door with force.

  The doctor releases me and picks up a very soft-looking feminine matching sweatshirt and pants that were thrown on the chair beside the bed.

  “The pain medication is probably wearing off. Let me get you some more before we get you dressed.” The doctor steps behind me. I attempt to check out the room again by lifting my groggy head. It is an effort but I’m excited to see a place I always dreamed of coming into.

  “Do you live in this apartment alone?” I ask.

  “Yes.” He hands me two small white pills to swallow with a glass of water. I take them.

  “Does everyone here have one?”

  “Yes. They are all a little different though. Some are larger than others.”

  The doctor presses a button and the bed I am lying in starts to move. My head is being raised.

  “This will help to put less stress on you to get a shirt on.”

  “Thank you,” I say as the whirl of the bed lifts me. He scrunches the sweatshirt up to the hole that my head will go through. He puts his hand behind my back and lifts me forward before slipping it over me. The fabric is soothing. “It’s so soft.”

  “We have wonderful shops off the main casino floor. They carry women’s clothes, purses, shoes. Just about anything you can think of. There are restaurants too. I am sure when you are better, I can take you down there to dine.”

  I rub the fabric between my fingers. It isn’t scratchy or white. “I can’t pay for this.”

  The doctor stops fussing. “You don’t owe a dime. It is a gift.”

  “From Carlo?” I wonder. He nods. “He is an important person, isn’t he?”

  The doctor pushes a button and lowers the bed.

  “He is but he doesn’t seem to think so.” What does the doctor mean by that?

  Knock, knock.

  “Come in, Julius.”

  “You need me, Doc?”

  “Stand on the other side of the bed.” Julius is tall and dark like Carlo. He walks over and gives me a quick smile. He is not shocked by seeing me. “Anya, this is Julius. Julius this is Anya.” He does a quick head bow, acknowledging me. “Julius is the person who found you on the monitors last night.” The doctor is ripping the tags off the sweatpants. “Hold the sheet down over her middle.” Julius does what the doctor says. “I’m going to put these on you. Julius will keep you covered up. Can you brace your arms on the bed and elevate yourself?” The doctor does the same thing with the sweatpants, scrunching them up and putting each side over each foot. I hold my body steady and raise my leg as he moves the fabric up them. They are so comfy as they travel up my bruised body I could live in them. When he gets to my hips, I jump. A pain shoots up to my ribs. I wince.

  “Is she okay, Doc?” Julius is concerned.

  “No, that is why she is here.” He straightens the pants and smooths out the sheet. I appreciate him protecting my modesty. “I think we are good to go,” he announces.

  Julius pulls out his phone. “The ambulance is here.”

  I hate putting these people out like this. I feel helpless. They are all so kind and considerate.

  “A couple of days’ rest and I should be fine. This really isn’t necessary,” I almost plead.

  I can’t afford all of this and Priest is going to go crazy. He’ll come here. He will come looking for me when his temper calms. He always does. A shred of insane hope fills me that maybe once and for all he is done with me.

  “Nonsense. I’m the doctor and I take very good care of my patients.” Doc Howie releases a button and the bed rolls. Julius pushes it toward the door. For a second, I don’t think it will fit but the doctor guides it through and past the threshold, leaving only enough space for the width of a piece of hair. “See.” He grins.

  The doctor summons the elevator by pushing a button. The three of us wait. It dings and the doors slide open. I am pushed through and the two men squeeze on with me. Julius uses a card, pushes a button, and the elevator whooshes down to Lord knows where.

  They wheel me down a narrow hallway and I am ashamed. The doctor and Julius are going to a lot of work to get me to the ambulance. They are skirting around narrow doorways when we reach a familiar place but unlike anything I have ever seen before—a kitchen. The huge room gleams with stainless steel everything. Large pots, pans, and utensils hang from the ceiling. Crowding the area, people are dressed in white outfits that chefs wear. I am in awe. A woman, probably in her thirties, is yelling at just about everyone.

  “I want this place to shine, breakfast is over!”

  In a flurry of short bursts, each person takes rapid steps between the large counters with purpose.

  Her head whips around and her hand slaps her thigh. “What is this?”

  “There is an ambulance outside. We are taking her through here,” Julius informs the woman.

  “Sorry to disturb your kitchen, Jessie,” Doc Howie apologizes, steering the bed clear of a particularly high stainless cabinet. The woman’s face is hard but softens when she meets my gaze. I know I look as bad as I feel. Her high white hat tips as she looks away muttering; her anger is back.

  “Son of a bitch… Carlo…better make him pay,” is barely audible while she stacks bowls that clank together.

  Does she think Carlo did this to me?

  “Get out of the way!” Jessie bellows. “For God’s sake!” She takes to yelling at the staff again. “Bobby! Open the door!” A younger-looking guy with dark hair and eyes pushes on a metal bar and swings the door open. He looks away from me, pity evident in his gaze. He seems to think better of it and rallies himself to smile at me. I try to smile back but my split lip stings.

  The bed jostles as it is hauled over the threshold into the cool morning air. The alley is filled with a large red truck, the ambulance to take me for tests. Two large men in uniforms that say EMT on their chests carry me and the bed with ease into the back.

  Doc Howie jumps in and sits on a small bench beside me. “Julius, we will be back by eleven. Have Jessie make Anya an early lunch.”

  The doors slam shut. I want to protest. I don’t want to put the chef out. I can wait. I am used to fasting so missing a meal isn’t worth being fussed over. Jessie seemed like a person that doesn’t like her scheduled disturbed.

  Chapter 14

  Carlo

  “What the fuck is going on?” Pop asks, shoving a greasy piece of bacon into his mouth.

  I have walked back and forth to the window on the back side of his apartment at least a dozen times.

  “I told you there was an incident last night.” My voice is highly agitated, bordering on disrespectful.

  “That doesn’t fuckin’ tell me anything.” He grabs a glass of orange juice and chugs it down.

  I spin toward him and roar, “I’m handling it!”

  Pop stands. His chair kicks back. His face is murderous. I have crossed a line. He stalks over to me by the windows. I think he is going to hit me. If he does, I deserve it. I have no right to yell at Pop like that. When he makes it to me, he doesn’t raise his hand, though, he looks down, sees the ambulance, its red lights bright even in the morning sun, and a girl on a stretcher being loaded into it. Following her into the back is Doc Howie. A sharp unfamiliar pain radiates in my chest.

  Pop puts a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Start at the beginning.”

  *****

  “When is she coming back?” Alex asks.

  “Julius said the doc said they should be here by eleven. He wants Jessie to have her lunch waiting. You know she asked to fucking go back.”

  Alex shrinks back in shock. “Back? To those fucking losers!”

  I nod sharply.

  We are doing our rounds. We walk the entire building, including the service areas and perimeter, every day. If it isn’t us, someone else on security duty does it.

  “What are you going do?” Alex shrugs his shoulders. “She’s brainwashed.”

  I seethe at Alex’s words. I don’t agree. I
think she has no out so she stays. I see it in her eyes. She doesn’t have the same vacant look as the others. The Anointed Heavens have a flock of blank-eyed followers.

  “What did your father say? Did he shit a brick when he found out we took her to the family floor?”

  “No, surprisingly. He listened to her story, what happened, and told me to do whatever I have to.”

  “Huh.” Alex pulls on a door, making sure it is locked. “Your father isn’t an asshole. He would understand why we did it.” Alex has a conscience and I trust him with my life. Others in this business have no scruples at all, no morals, and don’t give a shit about anyone but themselves.

  “We could have taken her to a hospital,” I remind him, wondering why I didn’t. Why did I scoop her into my arms?

  He shakes his head. “It was your call to take her to the doc and that is what we did. I don’t see anything wrong with it. I thought she was dead.”

  I shudder. “So did I.”

  “You did the right thing, Carlo, never doubt it.” Alex’s eyes level with mine and the unspoken bond between us resonates. His support is important to me.

  The kitchen staff is running around and Jessie is screaming at everyone as we step inside the area. I don’t know how they stand it.

  “Carlo!” She turns her steam on me and stomps toward me. “What the fuck happened to that girl the doc brought through here?”

  “Somebody fucked her up.” My gaze shifts to Alex. What I was thinking goes unsaid between us. He knows I didn’t want to get into who I suspected did it or where she is from because with Jessie’s temper she’d be running outside with a butcher knife carving up people wearing blue, not just someone in a blue robe named Priest. She lets it go—unhappily.

  “Alex!” Jessie then shouts, stabbing a piece of cake with a fork. “Taste this.” Jessie is still pissed at me from the other morning so I take her directly talking to Alex as a dismissal. That chick can hold a grudge. “Come here,” she calls to him. He steps closer to her. The fork is raised, ready and waiting for him. “I don’t let assholes taste my shit. But you, you’re nice to me.” Alex swipes the bite of some amazing-looking chocolate cake with his lips off the fork she offers. He nods and chews, his face registering that is it pure heaven.