~~~
This time, when Trey turned in for the night, Mandi was waiting up for him. Sitting in a chair facing the door with her arms crossed.
Seeing her, he asked, “What’s wrong?” as the door closed behind him.
“I called the Strip Dive,” she said, and she could see a slight hesitation in his step. “And apparently I’ve been taken off the payroll…on your order.”
He shrugged out of his leather jacket. “Right. I meant to tell you about that.”
“We agreed I’d take some time off while the bruises healed and I got past what happened,” she said. “I never said I wanted to quit.”
“You don’t need that job anymore, Mandi,” he said. “It’s simple.”
“I wanted the job,” she snapped, standing up. “Trey, you know how important my independence is. If you don’t, then you should.”
He turned to her, his eyes brimming with impatience. “You’re pregnant,” he said, as if she was stupid and didn’t already know this. “You don’t need to be dancing around on some stage, taking your clothes off for guys who are too pathetic to get some real ass or aren’t satisfied with what they have.”
“Since when is this your decision to make?”
“Since you’re carrying my kid.”
Hot rage swamped over her. “We’ve been over this before,” she said. “You don’t own me!”
“I never said I did! This is just common sense, Mandi. You wouldn’t be able to work for much longer anyway. What’s the big deal?”
“What’s the big deal? You made this decision without even talking to me. Without even stopping to consider I still have bills to pay. That abandoned apartment of mine costs me $400 a month, you know.”
“I told you I’d take care of all of that.”
She sighed in exasperation. That wasn’t even the point. Why didn’t he understand she didn’t want to be one of those women who lived off of her man’s money? She didn’t want to depend on Trey for everything, and it seemed like that was exactly what he was trying to make happen.
Closing the space between them, he placed his hands on each of her shoulders, looking her in the eye. “Let me take care of you,” he said. “Let me treat you like the queen you are. You’ve worked hard long enough.”
“I’m not Cinderella,” she said. “I’m not just going to let you carry me off to your castle and…”
“Why not?” he asked.
“Because Happily Ever After doesn’t exist,” she snapped. After everything he’d seen while working on the streets, did he really believe it did? “Because sooner or later this relationship is going to implode or you’re going to wind up dead. What happens to me then? I’ll tell you. I have to start fresh, with nothing to my name. Again.”
He looked at her, studying her. “It doesn’t have to be this way.”
“Does that mean you’re going to quit your job?”
His eyes widened in surprise. “I can’t quit, Mandi. It’s who I am.”
“Then how can you tell me everything’s going to be okay?” she asked.
“Because I’m going to make sure it is.”
~~~
Bela used her key to let herself into Vincent’s apartment, surprised to find him packing. He didn’t own much, but what few belongings he had, he was stuffing into a tattered duffel bag.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
He stopped moving long enough to look at her, then past her to the hallway. “How’d you get here?” he asked. “Where’s Gio?”
“Looking for me as we speak, no doubt.” She gave him a sly smile. “I gave him the slip. I thought we could spend some time alone.”
“Bela, you can’t do that.” He sighed, reaching into his pocket. He came out with a cell phone. “Not at a time like this.”
“A time like this?”
He didn’t respond. Instead, he said into the phone, “Gio, Bela’s at my place. When can you get here?”
“What are you doing?” Snatching the phone from his hand, she hung it up and then lifted her gaze to his in question. “Vince, you better tell me what the hell’s going on.”
“Listen to me,” he said, taking her hand. “I know you feel smothered, but it’s important you let Gio protect you. You can’t be running off without telling anybody.”
“Why not?” she asked.
“I ran into my brother today,” he said.
“Rafe?” A nervous feeling settling into her belly. She’d heard of him; the ruthless and arrogant Capo who owned most of the east side. He was the Marcano family’s equivalent of Trey—except he was a good five years older and ten times more brutal.
He nodded. “He threatened you.”
“Me?” she asked. “Why?”
“Why?” he snapped. “Because I love you. And hurting you would devastate both me and your family with one blow. You’ve got to be careful.”
“Okay,” she said, “I’ll be careful. But…is there more to it? You seem…shaken up.”
“Yeah, there’s more.” Turning away from her, he continued to pack. “My dad put a price on my head. Fifty thousand to whoever brings me to him. Meaning any guy looking to make a name for himself or a little extra cash is going to be hunting me.”
“Are you leaving town?” she asked.
“No. I just need to find somewhere safe to stay.”
“Come stay with me,” she said. “There’s plenty of room and no one will be able to get to you at my house.”
He shook his head. “No. No, that only puts you in danger. It’s better if you don’t even know where I’m staying.”
“Let me talk to Trey,” she said. “He’s good at this kind of thing. He can help.”
“This is my problem,” he said. “I’ll handle it.”
“Dammit, Vincent,” she snapped. “You won’t let me help you, you won’t let me hide you. This is your life we’re talking about so stop being so stubborn!”
“You are my life,” he said. “So as long as you’re safe, I’ll be fine.”
She shook her head in disbelief.
Stepping up again, he did his best to speak in a soothing voice, but she could tell beneath his façade, he was rattled. “I’ll be okay, Bela. I’ve been hiding from them for a long time—I’ve got this part down. I’ll find a motel—one of those places that won’t ask for my name. I’ll pay cash, I’ll ditch my bike. When I’m sure it’s safe, I’ll come find you okay? Until then, we need to keep our distance. And you need to stop ditching your bodyguard.”
It seemed too hard. With something so high risk, she wanted to be at his side every step of the way. But if being there meant putting him in more danger somehow, then she’d have to do what he said and stay away. She managed to nod, but was too emotional to form words.
He gave her a kiss. Soft and deep and sweet, putting her at ease…for a moment. His kiss always had that affect on her. Before their lips could part, someone knocked on the door. They both went stiff and still, until a voice called out, “It’s Gio.”
Vincent looked out the peephole just to make sure and then opened the door.
“Gotta hand it to you,” Gio said as he leaned against the doorjamb. “Not many people can pull a fast one on me.”
The second he laid eyes on her, his amused smile faded. With a glance around the room—the duffel bags and cleaned out apartment—he sobered up. She gave Vincent one last look as she walked past both of them.
Once they were out in the hallway, Gio fell in step with her. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” she muttered, blinking back tears of worry.
“It’s something.”
“You think I don’t know what this is?” She scoffed and picked up her pace as she ranted, “You follow me around and then report back everything I do. I don’t know if you’re working for my dad or my brother, but you’re definitely a spy. And I’m not telling you a damn thing.”
With her head held high and her vision blurred with unshed tears, she continued a brisk walk down the
hallway, leaving him to catch up.
4
Pillow Talk
Trey couldn’t sleep. Even though Mandi was within arm’s reach, he felt like she was miles away. With her back turned toward him, she lay curled up on her side, keeping a good six inches of space between them. She was pretending to sleep. He could tell because her breathing was smooth and even—too calm. In her natural sleep state, Mandi’s breathing patterns were always fluxing and changing as whatever demons from her past came back to haunt her subconscious. He assumed that was what was happening, but he knew she’d never tell him.
But she sure hadn’t been shy about telling him how he’d overstepped his bounds earlier. She’d let him have it good. So he’d messed up…somehow. What was wrong with not wanting his pregnant girlfriend to work at a strip club? Absolutely nothing, in his opinion. Maybe he should’ve discussed the issue with Mandi first, but he hadn’t seen the point. He’d known the stubborn and independent beauty would just argue her case and win. Besides, it was his club. He could fire any one he wanted, whenever he wanted. That didn’t get him out of the doghouse tonight, though.
He rolled over on his side to face Mandi’s back. He could see the soft glow of her skin against the white straps of her silky nightgown. She was so beautiful, with her golden blond hair spread across her shoulders.
Looking at her a moment, he searched his mind for a way to break the ice. “Did I ever tell you I wanted to be a fireman when I was a kid?” he decided to say finally.
A slight hesitation in her breathing told him she’d heard him. After a moment, she rolled over and brought them face to face. “Really?”
“Yeah.” Smiling, he thought back on those simpler years. “I wanted to run into burning buildings and rescue people. Wear all the cool gear. The whole nine yards.”
“What did your dad say about it?”
“I never told him,” he said.
Something in her eyes softened. “Why not?”
He had to think on that one a minute. “I guess I knew it wasn’t an option. For as long as I can remember, he’s talked about teaching me the family trade. Grooming me. Telling him just would’ve gotten me another speech, and I didn’t want him to ruin the dream. Dreams are good for you.”
She gave a light scoff.
“You don’t think so?” he asked. “Come on, you must’ve had a dream at some point, right?”
“Nope.”
“Come on.” He flashed her a charming grin and gave her nose a playful tap with his forefinger. “Tell me what it was.”
She was fighting a smile, but she caved and it grew. “All right, all right. I wanted to be a ballerina.”
“You did?” he smiled, picturing her in a leotard and a tutu.
She nodded. “Or I wanted to teach ballet. Mostly, I just wanted to dance. I loved it. Still do.”
Reaching out, he took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “What about now? Do you have any new dreams?”
“Does being happy count?” she asked, her gaze turning distant.
“You’re not happy?” he asked, concerned. This should’ve been obvious to him, and in some ways, it was. He kept hoping something would happen and bring back that smiling blond that had captivated him.
“I don’t know why I said that. I didn’t mean it.” Avoiding his gaze, she turned over on her back and stared up at the ceiling.
“Yes, you did.”
Silence settled over them. After a few moments, Mandi said in a small, quiet voice. “It’s not like I’m depressed. I mean, I’m fine. I always have been, you know? Fine, just fine.” She sighed. “I’m tired of being fine. I want to be better than that.”
He let this sink in. “You will be happy someday, Mandi,” he said gently. As he made his vow, he intended to keep it. “I promise.”
~~~
Something inside him had changed. When Vincent returned to New York with the intention of bringing both mob families down, he’d been so set on his mission. Nothing else had mattered. Not only had he risked his life again and again to make a new name for himself, but he’d also shamelessly gone into hiding time and again to keep himself safe.
It was easy for him to fly under the radar, to disappear if he needed. At least, it used to be.
Loving Bela changed things. He no longer wanted to destroy the mob out of revenge, but out of the desire to free her from their control. Though justice was important to him, it didn’t matter as much as Bela and her dreams. Though he could easily run away with her, he knew they’d always be looking over their shoulder. How could they truly be happy together, knowing the past could catch up with them at any moment?
Because he loved Bela, running and hiding were no longer options. The only way to gain freedom was to take a stand.
That was why he decided not to hide from his father. For Bela, he did something he swore he’d never do.
He went home.
5
Home Again
“My son, the traitor.” Dante Marcano hovered in the doorway of the holding cell. It was about the size of a utility closet, with no windows. As expected, he’d been seized the second he stepped onto his father’s property. Captured and tossed into the cell without a second’s thought. There were bloodstains on the cement floor. Vincent wondered how many people lost their lives in this room…and if he was going to be one of them.
“As if it didn’t break my heart enough to watch you walk away, you have to go and join my sworn enemy?”
With his hands cuffed behind his back, he struggled to push himself to his feet. “If you’re gonna kill me, then do it. Save me the speeches about my betrayal and just get on with it.”
“You think I’d kill you?” he asked. “My own flesh and blood?”
“You put a bounty on my head,” he said.
“With orders to bring you in alive.” Shaking his head, Dante entered the room. “You’ve been spending too much time with DeLuca if you think I’d kill you. As it turns out, your betrayal could benefit me.”
“Benefit you?” Vincent repeated, confused. “How?”
“I want you to give DeLuca a message for me,” he said. “Agree to do that, and I’ll let you walk out of here today a free man. No one will ever hunt you down again.”
There had to be more to it. Vincent knew his father well enough to know he never let anybody go. Still, if it got him out of this room—if it meant no longer needing to hide, it was worth a shot. “What’s the message?”
“I want to meet with him,” he said. “I want a truce.”
He stared at his father with skepticism. “A truce.”
“This rivalry has gone on far too long, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, but—”
Dante took a set of keys out of his pocket and then walked behind Vincent. The hairs on his arm rose as his father reached behind him and unlocked the cuffs.
“Tell him for this one time only I’m extending a dinner invitation. We’ll meet some place nice and public and discuss the terms of a peace treaty.”
With his hands freed, Vincent stood. He studied his father a moment. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Absolutely.”
“If this is some kind of trick…he’ll kill me,” he said. “You know that.”
“It’s not a trick,” he said. “This is exactly what it appears to be.”
Vincent knew his father well enough to know when he wasn’t showing all of his cards, and suspected he was playing a much bigger game. He also knew no amount of questioning would make his father reveal his true motives, so he could do nothing about his suspicions right now. The tension in the room was thick as he walked away, slow and braced and ready for the mood to shift at a moment’s notice.
Knowing he was likely followed, he went straight to the DeLuca mansion. He didn’t have the clearance to go straight to Sal, so he had to report the message to Trey and wait in the hallway for his Capo to return.
Down the hall, the doors opened and Bela entered, carrying a couple of bags from
Macy’s and Bloomingdales. Gio followed behind her, always on vigilant duty.
At the sight of his blood-stained clothes and disheveled appearance, Bela gave him a questioning look. Catching her gaze, he gave her a small, reassuring smile to let her know he was all right.
Just then, the door to Sal’s office opened and Trey motioned him inside. To his surprise, Sal wanted him to set up the meeting. As he made the phone call to arrange the time and place, he couldn’t help but feel like he was straddling a fence with razor-wire on each side. One wrong slip and it was slice and dice time.
~~~
Sitting at the patio table, Bela was buried in a mountain of homework for her psychology thesis. Though she was trying to focus, she couldn’t keep her mind from wandering back to Vincent. Why was he beaten up? Had the Marcanos caught him, or was this a run-of-the-mill beating all mobsters endured from time to time? She hated not knowing.
Trey walked out into the garden from the open glass doors. “You’re not gonna believe what just happened.”
She looked up from her textbook with a raised eyebrow.
“Marcano senior wants a sit-down,” he said. “With all the important members of both families. Can you believe that?”
For a moment, she could only stare at him in confusion. No, she couldn’t believe it. “Why?”
Trey shrugged and pulled out one of the chairs for himself. “He claims he wants a peace treaty.”
“Is that what Vincent was doing outside dad’s office earlier?” she asked. “Did they catch him or something?”
He nodded. “The sit-down is tomorrow night at six.” He stood and headed away. “Wear something pretty.”
“Wait, I have to go?” she asked. “Why?”
“Do I even have to answer that question?” he asked, looking annoyed. “Because—”
“Family business is family business,” she recited from the memory of the dozen speeches she’d received over the years. “Right.”
Code of Silence: Cosa Nostra #2 Page 2
