Ruthless Empire: A Dark Mafia Collection

by Seth Eden

  Molly Greene had always been a study in contrasts.

  The residence had been structured as a modern take on a cottage, with two sections shaped like pyramids, arrowing up into the sky. Unlike the mansion, it had next to no landscaping along the front, showing it to be a new construction.

  I hated it. Hated how it kept her separate from me. From Anna. From my life.

  Which was pointless. Not to mention foolish.

  I hadn’t seen her in six long days. She hadn’t contacted me in any way, not even to leave a text or voicemail. I told myself not to let it bother me, but I couldn’t listen to that voice, even if it was the voice of reason.

  I missed her too goddamn much.

  My own fault. And yet, the only choice I had. It’d be better to be separated by degrees like this then to have her taken away from me altogether by something more permanent. I knew that and even believed it. But it didn’t stop the pain of her absence from knifing through me at regular intervals.

  Like when I looked up at Sunday dinner, and she wasn’t there. Like when I walked by her old room.

  Like when I breathed.

  Christ.

  I’d seen an upsurge in minor inconveniences this week. Petty annoyances. Things like runners being late and missing meeting times. Things like a delivery being confiscated not due to drug sniffing dogs at the border, but because some asinine truck driver had overloaded his trailer. The weigh station had held him back, investigated, and found several kilos of heroin, our most expensive commodity.

  When it rained, it poured.

  Nonetheless, we hadn’t become one of the most successful mafia families in Philadelphia by being complacent. Addresses and delivery points were never static, and we switched them up frequently, rotating which ones we used at random.

  These locations also amounted to nothing more than holding stations, benign-looking warehouses where the product would be shipped in, checked, and carried back out. We had dozens upon dozens of them, and when any became compromised as that one had, we merely closed it down for a certain period until it was safe to return again.

  These issues were typically under Molly’s purview. She’d handled them without complaint and had dealt with them instantly, not requiring my involvement at all. She’d excelled at problem-solving and on maintaining calendars, timetables, and constant communication. It’d kept issues like this to a bare minimum.

  No wonder everyone had started to refer to her as the queen.

  I stayed there at her curb for several more minutes, gazing into the house. I saw no sign of her, no indication that she dwelled within those walls. I wondered what she might be doing. I’d checked her accounts to see what she’d purchased so far. A living room set. A bedroom set. Linens. Some throw rugs. Toiletries. Non-perishable groceries.

  According to the original listing, the place had already come with kitchen appliances, so she hadn’t ordered any of those. I took in the area. These homes were outside of our estate, but we had ties to each one of them. The neighborhood was run by one of those homeowners’ associations we had control over.

  I’d contacted Sandro within moments of her giving me the address.

  “1624 Magnolia Tree Lane,” I said, “I want it protected at all times. Make it a top priority.”

  Molly hadn’t known this, but the phone I’d given her had a hidden app running perpetually in the background that allowed me to track her location at all times. No matter where she went, as long as she had her phone, I’d know where she was.

  I’d put a security detail on her, as well. Sandro had equipped them with an invention of his, a modified panic button. It worked similarly to the LifeAlert buttons the elderly and infirmed wore. If for some reason her security guards couldn’t contact us through regular channels, or if either of them went down, those buttons would set off an alarm here at the mansion.

  The measures might prove to be overkill on my part, but I didn’t want to take any chances.

  All our drivers and pilots were already members of security and trained to fight off any threat. Any time Molly had traveled for business, she’d been accompanied by security without her realizing it. Now, I’d had to get a little creative, so I placed them in maintenance vans, as landscapers, linemen, and even as people jogging along the sidewalk out front.

  This wasn’t about infringing on her privacy, it was about keeping her safe. No matter how separate our lives might become, any place she chose to reside in would be safe.

  I’d make damn sure of it.

  After my father’s murder, I’d increased by the security personnel at the estate, as well as the surveillance coverage, going so far as to employ the use of drones overhead. I didn’t plan to ever be caught unprepared again, whether from the Bianchis or anyone else.

  I refused to allow danger anywhere near my baby daughter. Or near Molly.

  28

  Molly

  My father was dying.

  After Tara had stormed out of the apartment, I’d done as she asked and read the letter. It’d been three pages long, probably due to the wide looping scrawl of his handwriting. It contained quite of bit of information and he’d apologized multiple times. He hadn’t mentioned his impending death until the last paragraph.

  When I leave Curran-Fromhold, I’ll be going into full time hospice care. I’ve been diagnosed with stage four pancreatic cancer, and that plus my good behavior got me a ticket out of this dump. But I deserved being here, especially after what I put you girls and your mother through. I’d like to see you both, but I’ll understand if you don’t come.

  He’d understand. Good for him.

  Still, as much as I didn’t want it to, it pulled on my heartstrings. The more time passed and the more I thought about it, the more I felt like I should relent. Or at least consider relenting.

  It’d been three days later when I texted her, telling her I’d go with her to see him. I’d even looked up stage four pancreatic cancer to find out what state he’d likely be in. To see if he’d be dangerous or capable of the violence I remembered him for. But he wouldn’t be. At this point, he’d probably have to be wheeled out of the prison and straight into a hospice care bed.

  I still felt lots of trepidation and fear when I thought of him. But I didn’t want my sister going alone.

  Luckily, Tara forgave me. She’d always been like that, quick to forgive. She had a pretty short fuse, but her temper rarely lasted long. It felt good to be talking to her face to face again, to return to the one part of my old life that I’d missed.

  I tried not to think about what I missed in my new life. About who I missed.

  I was due to go back to work in three days. Back to being Queen Molly. So I made a plan with my sister. Tomorrow, we’d go visit my father. The next day I’d go to the clinic. And then the last day, we’d relax together at the apartment.

  I knew I’d need to take it easy for twenty-four hours after the procedure was complete.

  I did my best to keep my mind off my decision to terminate the pregnancy. It hadn’t been a decision I’d ever wanted to make, but I felt trapped between a rock and a hard place. I hoped I’d feel better once it was all over.

  We went to visit my father a week before Christmas. After a blustery and snowy month of winter weather, the day dawned bright and clear at a mild fifty degrees. I even took my heavy jacket off as I hopped into a taxi beside Tara.

  Even though I knew he was terminally ill, I was nervous about seeing Milton Greene again. My memories of him weren’t only traumatizing, they were nearly two decades old. I didn’t know who to expect or how to react. By the time we arrived at Helping Hand Health Care and Hospice, I was a mess.

  “Okay, I’m officially letting you off the hook,” Tara said as we stood right outside the door to the two-story stone façade of the facility. The hospice looked pretty ragged around the edges, clean but in a state of early dilapidation.

  It might be better than a prison, but it still didn’t look like a place anyone would want to go to s
pend their final days.

  “What?” I asked her, pushing my shaking hands behind my back.

  “You don’t have to go in. You don’t have to see him.”

  “I told you I would.”

  “Yeah, but look at you,” she said, her features twisted in resignation.

  I glanced down at my clothing. I’d put on a multi-colored sweater over one of my professional skirts which I noticed only that second was inside out. And though I’d stepped into a nice pair of boots, one of them was navy while the other turned out to be dark brown. Guess I’d been more out of it than I’d thought this morning.

  “No, I can do this. I don’t want you facing this alone.”

  “Moll…”

  “I’m fine, really. I want to see him.” I felt shocked to realize that I’d just spoken the truth.

  We entered to find the interior much brighter than the exterior. The walls had been painted a cheerful yellow, and there was a cabinet with curios and knick-knacks inside the front door. Flowered sofas with throw pillows welcomed us as we walked in, and the white-haired lady at the main desk greeted us with a smile.

  “Can I help you?”

  “We’re here to see Milton Greene,” I told her, and she asked us to sign in before giving us a room number.

  “Go left, then right at the nurse’s station, then left again. Let us know if you need anything,” she told us.

  Tara had been awfully quiet since we’d come in. For all her insistence that we visit him, she now seemed intimidated by being here. “You okay?” I asked her. She said nothing, staring straight ahead. I took her by both elbows, looking into her face. She seemed pale, apprehensive. “You don’t have to do this, you know. I can go on without you and report everything back to you afterwards.”

  She shook her head, offering me an ironic smile. “I’m the one who convinced you to come in the first place.”

  “True.”

  Tara blew out a breath. “If you’re going, I’m going.”

  “I read up on his condition,” I informed her once we’d started forward again. “He won’t be in any shape to harm us. He’s too weak.”

  She threw me a sideways look. “Moll, I know he scares you, but you never told me the full story. What did he do to you?”

  “It’s not going to help our current situation for you to know that.”

  “That bad?” she said, her eyes like saucers. “I mean, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised since he killed a guy, but…”

  I absorbed what she was saying. Murderers were dangerous people who should be feared outright. That’s what I’d always believed. That’s what society taught everyone. The only thing was I’d fallen in love with a man I knew must’ve killed people before. Granted, they were dangerous people probably setting out to kill him, but still.

  If I could look past such a thing for Luca Varasso, why couldn’t I do it for my own father? Especially since he was about to pass away?

  The person I remembered as Milton Greene had been this lumbering giant of a man in my memory, but as we plodded in, the person I saw in the bed seemed quite harmless.

  Gone was the bushy brown hair and the grizzled goatee I remembered. Gone was the barrel chest and beer belly. Instead, I found a clean-shaven older man with a bald head and a much smaller frame than I’d recalled laying prone in a hospital bed. He glanced up as we came in, looking through a pair of old-fashioned wire-framed glasses.

  “Social workers or nurses?” he asked with a pinched expression suggesting he might be in pain, his voice ravaged by age and infirmity.

  “It’s us,” I said, unable to bring myself to say the word Dad. “Molly and Tara.”

  His eyes opened in astonishment. “You’re my girls?”

  We both nodded. For some reason I couldn’t explain, I felt like a little girl again. Like a child being introduced to an adult stranger. Which wasn’t all that far from the truth.

  His voice shook and his chin trembled. I didn’t know what I’d do if he broke down. I wasn’t sure how to feel about something like that. “I just… I can’t believe you’re here. The last time I saw you…”

  The last time he’d seen us we’d been very young. I’d been six and injured because of him. Because of his drinking and horrifying temper. And Tara had been a year old. Even younger than Anna was now.

  “Thank you for coming. Thank you. You want to sit down?”

  He was behaving like a host with a couple of unknown guests he hadn’t known were coming.

  “We’re fine,” I said. There were two chairs in the corner, the folding metal kind, but I had no inclination to sit. I felt like a cat who’d just been thrown into water. Uncomfortable and on edge.

  Tara still hadn’t said a word. Her eyes remained large in her face as she watched him.

  “So you sent us a letter. Telling us about your illness. Asking to come see you.” And asking for our forgiveness.

  “Yes,” he said, his voice growing so faint we had to step closer to hear it. “I wanted to say I’m sorry. I was messed up for a long time. I never should’ve drank. I never should’ve taken my anger out on others. Especially not your mother. And especially not you, Molly. I’ll never forgive myself for hitting you, not ever.”

  Next to me, Tara gasped, putting her hands over her mouth.

  He took in a shuddering breath, clearly fighting back a breakdown. “I had the perfect little family, and I destroyed it. Tore it to pieces. I mean, I didn’t have a great childhood either, but that’s no excuse for me ruining yours. My own babies’. I should’ve been stronger than that. I should’ve…”

  I don’t know why but I couldn’t take it anymore. Maybe because I never imagined I’d get an apology from him, certainly not one this heartfelt and gut-wrenching, I reached out and grabbed his hand.

  “Hey, I can’t speak for anyone but myself, but I forgive you, okay? I forgive you.”

  Then, he did lose it. Entirely. Busting out into sobs that were nearly silent but still shook his frame. Tears were streaming down my face, too. I had no resistance in the midst of all this. And this time, I couldn’t blame my current condition. I was pretty sure I would’ve lost it no matter what. I didn’t look at Tara, but I could hear her sniffling, too.

  It took a few minutes, but eventually, he calmed down. He started praising the staff there, saying how painless the transition from the prison to there had been, how kind they’d been to him. Then, he brought up his prognosis.

  “It shouldn’t be long now. The doc said a few weeks maybe. Two months max. Pancreatic cancer does its job quick.”

  “Is there…” Tara spoke up for the first time. “Is there anything we can do for you?”

  “Oh, no, Tara. No. They’re keeping me comfortable. I’m not on chemo or radiation anymore, so I’m just on the pain meds. Going should be pretty peaceful.”

  Now that he’d had this emotional moment with us, he seemed lighter. More placid. He talked about his upcoming demise with a sense of serenity. As if he wasn’t afraid at all. As if he welcomed it, even looked forward to it.

  I didn’t know how to react to that. If I were in his shoes, would I feel that way? Be so accepting?

  I didn’t know. I didn’t think so.

  For the first time, I took in the picture of my father lying in his bed and realized he was just a man. A human being. Not the monster that I’d thought of him as for years. Just someone with flaws. Like me. And at that realization, I felt lighter, too.

  29

  Roman

  I followed Molly Greene and the girl who was with her to this nursing home place. Some sort of hospice type of deal. Casually, I wondered if she’d gone inside because she knew someone who was about to die, but it didn’t matter.

  She was about to die, too.

  They stayed in the damn nursing home for hours before coming out. But finally, they emerged.

  Yes. Time to set events in motion.

  I’d been about to take aim at her, when I saw a flicker of movement out of my peripheral vision.
One on my far left and one on my right flank.

  Guards.

  Goddammit. Luca must have put a security detail on them.

  Clenching my fists so hard the skin of my knuckles turned white, I stifled my frustration. At least I’d caught sight of the problem beforehand.

  I squinted, studying the two men. The only reason I’d been able to identify them as guards was because I recognized the guys personally.

  Their presence meant I couldn’t take out the woman without being taken out myself. As soon as I fired, Luca’s men would have me in a pool of my own blood.

  I lowered my .45 caliber and remained hidden. My plan wouldn’t work.

  Not tonight.

  And while I was bound and determined to bring the Varasso’s reign to an end, I wouldn’t risk my own hide to bring that about. Mostly because I wanted to be there to see it with my own two eyes, to glare down at Luca as he mourned another lost love, while he watched impotently as his family’s empire became mine.

  The guards were dressed in plain clothes. It would’ve been difficult for me to detect them had I not already been familiar with them.

  One stood talking to a woman in a wheelchair, while one sat in his car, apparently scrolling through stuff on his phone. But as I watched them, I caught their apparent nonchalance alter instantly to alertness by the way their postures stiffened as Molly appeared.

  Luca had trained his men well. They were part of the extensive Varasso machine, but so was I. I knew how they operated, what weapons they used, what tactics they employed.

  Their presence might put a damper on my original plan, but it would only be a temporary setback. A minor stumbling block but not a deal-breaker.

  I’d reassess and find a way around it.