by Olivia Deici
Table of Contents
Dedication
Before you read this book…
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
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
ROMAN
A Zambrano Family Novel
__________________________________________
Miami Mafia Series
Olivia Deici
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, locations, or any other similarities, is purely coincidental.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form (scanned, distributed, copied, [not exhaustive]) by any means (electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, information storage), in any printed or electronic form (even those yet invented) without written permission from the author, except for brief quotations for use in book reviews.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
The cover design for this ebook, as well as the Zambrano tattoo design, are original creations and works designed by the author, and may not be used, reproduced, displayed, adapted, changed, etcetera, without the written permission of the author. The author reserves all rights. Credit and acknowledgement is given to the photographers at 123rf.com for the stock photos used in the ebook cover.
Copyright © 2014 by Olivia Deici
Table of Contents
Dedication
Before you read this book…
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
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Epilogue
Zambrano Family Tree
Glossary of Phrases and Translations
Dedication
Thank you to my family and friends for being supportive of me while writing Roman. Shout out to the 80’s because I’ll always be your girl. Cheers to the music, movies, legwarmers, and hair crimpers of that awesome decade (maybe not the mullets, though). Mostly, thank you to my readers for taking a chance on this book and living in the world I created, if only for a little bit.
Before you read this book…
As you read Roman, you’ll see links to music. I love all types of music and enjoy being exposed to new songs and groups by looking them up when one is mentioned in a book. Of course, I make no claims to any ownership of the music or creativity behind those fabulous works of art. That music is the sole property of that musician and/or label. To make things simpler for my readers so that you don’t have to go to a search engine with each mentioning of a song, I have hyperlinked most songs, which are all found on the World Wide Web for the public to access, listen to, and view. Just click on the link if you’d like to hear the song and see the video. If you prefer not to, do not click on the links. And hey, maybe you’ll like a new singer or group you never heard of before now! I hope you enjoy this feature.
Chapter 1
Roman
“Fuck.”
My feet didn't quite make it. That was fucked up, since I decided to take it easy tonight. I'd been at forty-nine inches for box jumping for weeks, and I was only jumping forty now. I tried it another time, and cleared it easily. I landed on top and exhaled. Jumping down, I decided to end his workout with the good old-fashioned jump rope.
My feet barely hit the floor as I snapped the rope around. The cord made a whipping sound as my pace increased. Thinking about my day tomorrow made my feet lighter. I was focused ahead, getting into the right frame of mind. When I hit the last remaining minute, I double-timed it. The adrenaline and endorphins shooting into my system spurned my feet to be lighter. I felt the burn.
It made me feel alive.
The music beating through the speakers was adding to my rush. I felt the beads of sweat run down my forehead, chest, and back. I looked at myself in the mirror, and anyone looking at me outside of the gym would think I'd just showered and forgot to dry myself off.
Who the fuck needed steroids?
I'm a big motherfucker all on my own. At six and a half feet tall and 280 pounds, I towered over mostly everyone. I'd worked hard. Genetics helped, too. Height was inherited, but my muscles, though, that was all me.
“Roman, you want to get something to eat?”
Sissy walked over to me, swaying those sexy hips of hers. That was code for sex. She was one of the few who could hang with my brand of dirty. We’d had some fun before, but I hadn't sampled her in a while. I saw her appreciative gaze touch the planes of my chest where my skin was barely visible through my ink.
She wanted me. It wasn't that I didn't want an ass to tap, but I was selective,
and hers had been tapped more than a keg at a frat party. That's why I hadn't taken a drink in a long time.
“Naw. I can't tonight.”
No fucking before fighting, anyway.
I observed all the rules of fighting, even now. When I'd fought in the MMA local circuit, I didn't have sex before a fight.
Her left eyebrow hiked up. “Oh?”
I closed my eyes briefly. I despised needy and clingy females. This was old. Just because we had been fuck-buddies didn't mean she could keep tabs on me. I wasn't planning to settle down any time soon, or ever. My life was busy and it wasn't always on the right side of the law. That wasn't a life for a family. I knew first hand. Besides, while she had stirred me in the sheets, she did nothing for my intellect. There was a lot of air between her ears.
“Got an early day tomorrow.”
Her eyes softened slightly. “Court?”
I nodded, wiping my face and chest with my towel.
“What are the charges?”
I clenched my jaw. She came dangerously close to crossing a line here.
“Murder.”
Her eyes widened. “That's stressful, huh?”
I shook my head dismissively. “You don't know the half of it.” I gathered my things and headed to the locker room.
“You don't want a snack? Might take the edge off your hunger and ease the tension a bit.”
I smiled and shook my head again. No quickie or blow job, as much as I really wanted one. I ran a hand through my inky black hair. It remained spiked as my blue eyes looked at her.
“Gracias, but I'm good. Take it easy, Sissy.”
“When will you be back?”
Valid question, since I couldn't predict trials or verdicts. I shrugged. “Don't know. Let's hope for the best.”
She pursed her lips.
Damn, but I hated clingy bitches. Fuck-buddy status didn't mean she could leash me or question me about my other activities. Fuck that shit, man.
I turned my swagger to the locker room, raising my hand up in goodbye. I showered, got my shit, and drove home. It was late and I had an early morning.
I'd just barely made the yellow light when my phone rang. It was my father, and I accepted the call via blue tooth. My pop didn't normally call at this time of the day.
“¿Que pasa, Papá?”
Pop exhaled. This didn't bode well.
“Necesito un favor, hijo. It's important and I only trust you.”
“A favor? I'm on my way home.” I sighed. “I'm not too far away. I'll stop by. I'm assuming that you need help with your bills?”
It was code. We couldn't talk over the phone, so it had to be in person.
“Si.”
“Te veo.” I'll see you, I told him, and ended the call. I really didn't need this shit now- not with court tomorrow.
I entered the gate and drove down the long driveway to my parents' home. I didn't stop to notice the flowers my mother doted upon. Instead, I jogged to the front door and opened it. We didn't lock doors. We didn't need to.
Nobody fucked with the Zambranos.
“¿Romano?” My father called out to me from the den.
“Did you clean today?” I asked, as I walked in.
Pop nodded his head. “Yes. It's safe. No bichos.” I let my guard down. Pop swept the room today. There weren't any bugs.
“What's up, Pop?”
He raised an eyebrow. He wasn't much for English slang.
“I need something taken care of. I wouldn't ask, but it needs to stay en la familia. It needs to be clean. It needs you.”
I exhaled and sat down in the leather chair in front of his massive solid wood desk. I rested my elbows on my knees.
“Pop, you know I can't get my hands dirty anymore. It's a fine line I walk here.”
My father nodded his head. “I know, hijo, but I don't trust someone to take care of this. I wouldn't ask if I didn't need you. I know you need your hands clean, but I need you to dirty them for this.”
“How bad?”
My father exhaled again and shook his head. “We're talking life for Marco if the raton lives another day, never mind if the Russians find out- they'll take him out.”
At the mention of my older brother, I straightened. “What the fuck happened?”
“A deal went bad. Marco lost control trying to save it. Shot and killed someone. The Russians are involved now.”
I held up my hand. I didn't want to know anymore. “This shit needs to end with the Russians. He's not going to stop until he finds out who ordered the hit. Who's the traidor that needs taking care of?”
“Juan.”
I stood up. “No!”
My father nodded his head. “I had the same reaction. He's been with the family for years. We can't chance him running his mouth about Marco.”
“How did you find out?”
“Talo saw him speaking to the Colombians and Russians before this went down.”
“Do you think he said anything to the Russians after?”
Pop shook his head. “Not yet. It's only a matter of time. Talo saw money change hands.”
I sat down again and covered my eyes. “How long has he been feeding them shit?”
Pop was quiet for a second. “Who knows. But now we know why mierda has been on a downpour for us. Juan has been running his mouth.”
“Which Russians are involved?”
He shrugged. “The deal involved the Semenovs. Talo didn't get a good look at who Juan was speaking to, though.”
“Marco is instigating fights to find out about the hit. Pop, you need to talk to him. We need to find out information, but he can't be shooting his mouth and gun off whenever the fuck he wants.”
“I know. I have spoken to him. You know how he's been since Jenny’s death.”
I stayed quiet, thinking.
“I'm sorry, Romano. I can't trust anyone else. You're the cleanest. In and out. You're also the smartest. I love all my children, but I know their weaknesses and strengths. You have very few weaknesses, hijo.”
My curiosity got the best of me. “What are mine?”
My father smiled. My mother said that he'd given me his smile.
“You're too cocky and too chulo.”
I laughed. “I asked for my weaknesses.”
Pop chuckled at my arrogance. “See.”
I snorted. “I can't help those things.”
He shrugged. “These are according to Mamá.”
“And according to you?”
He paused for a long moment studying me.
“You're good at everything. You fail at nothing. You're intelligent, capable, and fierce.”
“How are those weaknesses?”
He sighed. “They make you entirely too dependable.”
I nodded my head in understanding, getting serious. “Ok. Fine. I'll do it.”
“Esta noche.”
“What? No, Pop. I got trial tomorrow. Early. No way. It's been a difficult case.”
My father pursed his lips. “Romano, I told you this bastard cannot live another day. If he runs his mouth, Marco goes down.”
Roman groaned. “Where is the rat?”
“Hiding, like ratones do. I know where he's at for the next few hours. Bastard's weakness has always been women. He's at Carina's place.”
Carina was the Madam of Miami. High priced, clean, and gorgeous women. Expensive, too, even for me, and I had expensive tastes with a wallet that tolerated such excesses.
“I'll take care of it. Carina's looking the other way?”
“She doesn't know and no one can.”
“Coño, Papá, you might as well tie my hands and throw me in Biscayne Bay.” I wiped a hand down my face again.
The room was silent.
“I don't have time to go home. You got my stuff here?”
He nodded.
We walked over to the gigantic safe whose size rivaled a small efficiency.
“Alright. I'll get it done.”
~*~
&nb
sp; I was dressed for the part. My clothes were head to toe black. I hadn't ever been a customer of Carina's, but the instructions given to me were accurate. That was helpful, considering there wasn't any time for me to study the building. There were no cameras, I assumed, for the privacy of her upscale clients. I rarely made assumptions, but that was a safe one to make. Besides, to get into and be a regular at Carina's, you needed to know someone. It was all about connections. If you didn't know anyone, you didn't get pussy.
I came in through a back kitchen entrance where food was being prepared for her clients. Her wait staff was dressed in pristine black clothes, and I blended in well. Going upstairs using the staff stairs, I counted the third bedroom on the right, as I'd been told. I used a key card that I’d swiped from a housekeeper to unlock the door and enter the bedroom where the hijo de puta was sleeping.
I stood over him and noticed the night table.
Drugs
Well then, that should make this shit easier.
I lifted my gloved and gunned hand, and holstered it. Off of my belt, I took my small case that held happiness in a glass vile. It was the purest shit you could get. Caballo. It means horse in Spanish, but it was slang for the shit people shot in their veins. It was a nice lethal dose of happiness.
The object of his affection for the night was in dreamland, too. Track marks dotted paths in her arms.
Filthy.
I guess Carina only cared about cleanliness when it came to STDs and not drugs. That's why I didn't come here. I like clean women. Besides, I don't have to pay for what I'm freely given.
I'm known for speed, accuracy, and success, and I couldn't let that fail me now.
I eyed the rubber tourniquet undone and resting perpendicular underneath his arm. I grabbed the syringe he'd used and filled it with the China white. In one fluid movement, I tied that shit tight around his arm, and injected the syringe just before the son of a bitch opened his eyes. They rounded with familiarity and horror right before I let the knot loose. He looked down and it seemed like he was going to struggle, but then the shit took hold. His head fell back down on the pillow and he closed his eyes. He inhaled and calmness settled over his face.
It was too easy of a way to die for that asshole, but it was clean. No one would suspect shit, and that's what the family needed.
