Rocco

by Sarah Castille

  “Don’t speak to me like that.” Grace twisted her hands in her lap, trying to get a handle on her emotions. “He didn’t want that life.”

  “Well, for someone who didn’t want it, he’s damned good at it,” he spat out. “And I do want it. I’ve wanted it all my life. It’s part of our family history, passed down from father to son. I’m happy to carry on the family tradition, and part of that tradition is keeping our women safe. You are all Papa and I have left. And right now, you’re in danger.”

  “He’s not going to hurt me,” she said.

  Tom snorted. “He’s a De Lucchi. He doesn’t care about anything. He has no feelings. He is a cold, ruthless, heartless killing machine and right now he wants to kill Papa and me. You are a tool to him. He will do or say anything to fulfill that contract. In the end, we die or he dies and you don’t need me to tell you which side he’s going to choose.”

  Grace scrubbed her face with her hands, trying to untangle fact from feeling, but confusion flooded her mind, drowning her in doubt and questions. There were just so many little things that didn’t add up. Rocco’s insistence on staying with her after the gun fight in the restaurant, even going so far as to break down her door when she went home. The time she found him standing alone at her father’s bedside in the hospital. How he’d followed her to the trailer park and insisted on going in alone. The cold rough sex they’d had at his place when she’d felt like she was with another man. And now, he followed her everywhere, refusing to leave her alone …

  Had she been wrong? Was it all an act? Had she truly lost Rocco that night at the river or was she about to lose him now? “What do you want me to do?”

  “Send him away,” Tom said. “Tell him your family is protecting you and the Forzanis, because I hear you’re going to marry Dino when Papa gets out of the hospital. You have people who truly care. You don’t need Rocco.”

  “I do need him. I want him. I trust him, Tom.”

  “Christ. He’s got you wrapped around his finger,” Tom spat out. “Are you in love with him? That’s what the De Lucchis do, Grace. They are master manipulators. They will do anything to get the job done, whether that means fucking the underboss’s daughter to get close to the target, killing three Albanians who were trying to find me so Tony could protect me, or beating up the guys Mr. Forzani sent to protect you.”

  Her heart sank into her stomach. “They’re all dead?”

  “Yeah.” His face tightened. “Tony had a camera at his place and Frankie walked in and handed him three gold rings with the Albanian Mafia stamp on them. I saw it. And he pretty much said he did it.”

  Her hand went to her mouth, remembering the blood on his clothes when he came out of the trailer. She’d suspected Rocco had killed them, but willful blindness had been her friend. “It’s not true,” she protested weakly. “He beat them up because they attacked him, and the one guy he questioned, he promised he wouldn’t—”

  “Well, he lied to you about that. Is it such a stretch to believe he lied to you about other things?”

  Grace slumped back in the seat unable to hear anything else he was saying for the pounding of blood in her ears.

  “I’m not your little brother anymore.” Tom puffed out his chest. “I’m a made man, Grace. I know what I’m doing.” He reached over her and pushed open the door. “You’d better get back inside. He’ll be wondering where you are. And even though you don’t believe me, we’re going to protect you. Your family is going to protect you. Papa is going to ask the don for permission to whack Rocco.”

  “Why?” She stared at him aghast. “You are literally shooting the messenger. Someone hired the De Lucchis. Why doesn’t the don make Cesare tell him who it is? If you kill Rocco, then Cesare will just give the contract to someone else.”

  “We’re doing both,” Tom said. “Petitioning the don and taking out the man who tried to kill us.”

  “He tried to save you in the restaurant,” she said, shocking herself with the vehemence in her tone. “He tried to save Papa. He was right in front of you. If he wanted to kill you, he could have done it and no one would have known it was him.” Grace slid out of the vehicle and back into the summer heat. “Let me talk to him. I’ll find out what’s going on.”

  “What’s going on is that you’ve been seduced by a monster who wants your family dead,” Tom said coldly. He started his vehicle and lowered the window. “But we’re going to save you.”

  “Grace?”

  Grace whirled around at the sound of a woman’s voice and forced a smile for Mike’s girlfriend who was standing in the open doorway.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m Tiffany.” The woman smiled, her gaze flicking to Tom’s car and back to Grace. “I’m with Mike. Frankie asked me to find you. When I didn’t see you in the locker room, I thought I’d check outside. Everything okay?”

  “Yeah.” She looked over her shoulder as Tom pulled out of the parking lot. “I came out to see if it was too hot to run and bumped into a friend.”

  “I’m sorry about the other night.” Tiffany fiddled with her ponytail as Grace walked toward the door. “I didn’t mean to get you arrested. I was just worried that people were getting hurt. I guess I’m just oversensitive to violence. I work at a hospital, and I see so many people hurt I sometimes overreact.”

  Still reeling from Tom’s revelation, Grace wasn’t up for a conversation so she gave a dismissive shrug. “It’s okay. They let us go in the end. We should get back to the gym.”

  “I’m actually not a big gym person,” Tiffany said as they walked back into the cool hallway. She adjusted her barely-there skin-tight outfit on a body that belied her words. “But I came to surprise Mike with the ulterior motive of watching him work out.”

  Grace forced a laugh. “I had the same ulterior motive, although I’ve been desperate for a run all week.”

  “We can run together on the treadmills.” Tiffany smiled. “I think the scenery is probably better in here anyway.”

  “Sure.” The last thing she wanted to do was go back into the gym, but Rocco would be wondering where she was. She’d put it off for too long. There were questions that needed to be answered. And decisions that had to be made.

  * * *

  He knew something was wrong the moment she walked into the gym.

  At first, he thought Mike’s girlfriend had said something to upset her, but when the two of them laughed together as they walked past and she didn’t even spare him a glance, his skin prickled.

  What the fuck? She’d been fine before she went to get her water bottle. More than fine. She’d been happy, flirty, leaning against him. Now her cheeks were flushed, and she was suddenly best friends with a woman who had almost landed her in jail.

  Maybe that was it. She was annoyed that he’d made negative comments about Mike’s girlfriend. Good thing he’d held back on his true feelings, because something about that woman was definitely off.

  “Everything okay, Frankie?” Mike gave an uncharacteristically obsequious smile that would have amused Rocco if he weren’t so concerned about Grace. Mike must have figured Rocco was going to teach him a lesson after his screw-up in the alley. A few weeks ago, Rocco would have considered icing Mike for what he’d done. But he didn’t have the time or energy to discipline Luca’s soldiers when he had to deal with the more pressing matter of Grace’s sudden change of disposition.

  “So that’s your girlfriend?” Rocco pounded the speedbag in front of him trying to work off the stress he usually relieved in his sessions with Clay. He had cancelled his last two appointments not just because he was wary about Grace seeing the marks when they were in bed together, but also because he didn’t want to feel numb. With Grace back in his life, he didn’t need to forget or hide his pain. She had opened him up, exposed him. Saved him. She made him want to walk again in the light, embrace his feelings and emotions instead of pushing them away.

  He drum rolled the speedbag without missing a beat. Usually he enjoyed getting up a good
rhythm and working up a sweat, but he couldn’t focus with Grace studiously ignoring him as she ran on the tread.

  “Yes, sir. I’m sorry I brought her to the club. With all the guards there, I never expected—”

  Rocco held up a hand, cutting him off. “What’s her full name?”

  “Tiffany Oliver.”

  “What do you know about her?”

  Mike’s eyes narrowed and his muscles tensed like he was getting ready for a fight. “Why do you want to know?”

  Protective. Rocco knew the feeling. Mike obviously cared for the girl and was willing to push even Rocco back if she was in danger. Rocco’s gaze slid to the woman on the treadmill beside Grace and caught her watching him. There was more to Tiffany Oliver than met the eye, a darkness that matched his own.

  “I like to know the people who are hanging around my girl,” he said trying to keep his tone light and casual.

  Mike’s tension eased. “She’s a nurse. I met her at the jazz club a few weeks ago. She lives in Henderson with a friend, and she’s got a dog. She was born here but her parents died in a car accident when she was six, and she went to live with her uncle in New York for a bit. She’s half Italian and a sweet girl. Really sweet. She didn’t mean any harm. She just got scared. If you’ve got a problem with her…” He tipped his neck from side to side, making it crack, sending the message that he was prepared to defend his girl, even though they both knew lifting a hand to Rocco would cost Mike his life.

  Rocco smashed his fist into the bag. “I’m not going to touch a woman and especially not a civilian, but keep her the fuck away from our business and our friends. Capice?”

  “Yes, sir. She’s a real sweetheart, sir. I asked her to look in on Mr. Mantini and make sure he was getting good care, and she said she’d already been in to see him. She’s assigned to his floor at St. John’s. Isn’t that a coincidence?”

  Rocco’s skin prickled in warning. He didn’t believe in coincidence. Fate and chance had never been his friends.

  “You don’t break omertà. Not even with your woman.”

  “No, sir.”

  “You do, and you’ll wind up at the bottom of Lake Mead wearing a pair of cement shoes that I will personally fit while you’re still breathing.”

  Mike swallowed hard. “Yes, sir.”

  “I’m not done with you,” Rocco warned as he drum-rolled the speed bag. “I’ve got some shit to deal with, but when I’m done, you’ll report to me at the clubhouse carrying a stick the size you think you need me to fucking beat you with so you learn not to be such a cafone.”

  “Can you lift a tree, sir?”

  And that, right there, was why Rocco was letting Mike off easy. He was a good guy. Loyal. A good earner. And as honest as a man could be in this business. And he made Rocco laugh, although he never let Mike see it.

  “I can lift anything you think will do the job.” He gave the bag a final punch and turned to look at the now chastised soldier. “Word of warning. Don’t think with your dick. When something seems too good to be true, it usually is.”

  Rocco wondered if he should take his own advice. His fantasy of leaving the De Lucchi crew and living a normal life was just that. A fantasy. The possibility of a future with Grace was too good to be true, and yet it didn’t stop him from wanting it.

  By the time he finished his workout, Grace was waiting in the reception area, talking to Mike and Tiffany. Rocco shouldered his bag, acutely aware that Tiffany was watching him. He could feel her gaze on him even when he put his hand on Grace’s lower back to lead her out the door.

  “I’m okay.” Grace flinched and took a step away. “Let’s go.”

  He followed her to his bike, waiting until they were out of earshot of anyone else, before he asked, “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” She straddled his bike, tightening the straps of her backpack although they didn’t need to be tightened.

  “Don’t lie to me.” His words came out harsher than he intended, but after an hour of being ignored, and his intuition blaring a warning, he wanted an answer and he wanted it now.

  “I’m tired. That’s all. I just want to go home and get some sleep.” She dipped her head and looked away. “You can just drop me off—”

  “I’m not leaving you alone.”

  Her shoulders sagged. “Well, I guess you can crash on the couch.”

  Damn. He’d fucked up big time if he was being sent to the couch. It had been a long time since he’d dealt with an angry woman, so he went with his gut instinct which was to shut the fuck up, get on the bike, and ride. Whatever was wrong had something to do with Tiffany because Grace had been fine when she went into the locker room and not fine when she came out. He’d already decided to do a little investigating into Mike’s girlfriend. Now he had a reason to get started sooner rather than later.

  After dropping Grace off and making sure the Forzani fuckers were in place watching her and keeping her safe, he swung by Gabrielle’s new PI office, all steel and glass and giant windows overlooking a fake lagoon. After they’d shared a brief greeting, Rocco sat in front of Gabrielle’s desk and stared at the pictures of tropical beaches on the wall, wondering if some day in his miserable life he might find his way to a place where he had nothing to do but lie in the sun.

  “So what can I do for you?” Gabrielle took her seat and rested her hands on her pregnant belly. Rocco felt yet another twinge of longing for a life that was getting farther and farther out of reach. Out of habit, he reached for his cigarettes, realizing only as he felt his empty pocket that he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d had a smoke. Hell, he’d finally kicked his addiction only to face losing the one person who had made it happen all over again.

  “Wanna know about the girl who called the cops on us in the alley. Mike’s new girlfriend. Don’t ask me any questions. I took a picture of her in the gym.” He gave Gabrielle all the information he had, sent her a copy of the picture, and sat back while she ran whatever searches PIs ran to find people who didn’t want to be found.

  “Are you sure you have the name right?” Gabrielle looked up from her computer and frowned. “I’m not getting anything right off the bat. Let me try something else. It will take a few minutes.”

  “Sure.” He needed to give Grace some space. He’d lived six years without her. He supposed he could live a few hours with her anger. Although, now that he thought about it, he hadn’t been living all these years. He’d been existing. The last time he’d truly lived had been with Grace. Holding her. Kissing her. Loving her.

  “You okay, Rocco?” Gabrielle’s soft voice yanked him back to the moment, and he pushed himself out of his chair, disconcerted that he had allowed himself to be so exposed.

  “Good. Just gonna grab some … water.”

  Water. Not cigarettes. He was clean and he wanted to stay that way.

  “Make it a couple of hours. I need some more time.” She tipped her head to the side and studied him. “Is everything okay with Grace?” she asked with the intuition that women seemed to have when it came to things that didn’t concern them in the least.

  “Yeah.”

  Rocco’s head wasn’t in the game when he returned to Gabrielle’s office after going for a ride through the city. After the emotional rollercoaster of being at the orphanage, playing ball with a boy who had been the same age as him when Cesare took him away, the strange sense of déjà vu he’d had on the playground, and Grace’s odd behavior since their workout at the gym, he was hoping for some good news, or at least something easy to handle—something that wouldn’t send him back down to Clay’s dungeon or into the nearest convenience store for a habit he didn’t want to start again.

  His hope faded when Gabrielle looked up with a grim expression on her face. “Sit down.”

  “Not in a sitting mood.” He paced around her office, checking out the window, the framed certificates on the wall, a picture of her, Luca, and their son, Matteo, at their wedding, surrounded by family and friends. Luca had a hu
ge family and most of them lived in Vegas, so he was tight with all his relatives—so tight he and Gabrielle had bought a new house across the street from his mother. Rocco had been invited to their housewarming party, but he’d given it a miss because the last time he’d met Luca’s mother, she’d tried to stab him with a kitchen knife because she thought he was going to hurt her son. What would it be like to have someone who loved you so much they would die trying to protect you? He couldn’t even imagine.

  “Well, I’ll stay sitting because my back is killing me.” Gabrielle’s hand dropped to her belly. “The baby is kicking. You want to feel?”

  “Jesus Christ. No.” He recoiled at the thought of touching Luca’s wife in such an intimate way. Although he had no doubt he could take Luca in a fight under normal circumstances, he was pretty damn sure Luca would attack without restraint when it came to protecting what was his.

  Kinda like how he felt about Grace.

  “Sorry.” She held up her hands palms forward. “I forgot you Mafia types aren’t like normal people. All the rules and codes of honor—”

  “The rules are there to protect you, and so wiseguys don’t kill each other. Lotta deaths happened over women before the Cosa Nostra’s ten commandments were put in place. Now, you don’t touch another made guy’s woman, and you definitely don’t sleep with her. You do that, you might be chased.” No one wanted to be cut off from the mob over a woman. “Chased” didn’t just mean you lost your friends; it meant you lost your business, your home, and your livelihood, too.

  “Well, I’m sure Nico and Luca don’t want to lose a key member of their crew.” She tapped on her keyboard, and the printer whirred to life.

  He opened his mouth to remind her that he wasn’t part of the crew and closed it again. Gabrielle wouldn’t be helping him if that were true. Luca wouldn’t allow it. And although he and Gabrielle had always been friendly, she wouldn’t be spending her free hours doing him a favor that took her into a gray area of the law if Nico hadn’t also approved. They were treating Rocco like part of the family—the Toscani crime family—and dammit he liked how that felt.