Twisted Loyalties (The Camorra Chronicles Book 1)

by Cora Reilly

  “I don’t understand why people watch others hurt each other on purpose. Why do people enjoy inflicting pain on somebody?”

  I was the last person she should ask. She had never seen me hurt people. That fight was a joke in comparison to my jobs as an Enforcer of the Camorra. I liked to hurt people. I was good at it, had learned to be good at it.

  Chapter Six

  His eyes were unreadable. What he was thinking? Perhaps I was starting to annoy him with my constant talk about the brutality of fighting.

  Cage fighting was obviously important to him. I was still trying to bring together the three sides of him I’d seen so far: the businessman, the guy next door and the fighter. Though I now realized that only the latter had seemed natural, like it was the only one where he didn’t feel dressed up.

  “I should probably leave,” I said. It wasn’t the best idea to be in the changing room with him. People might get ideas and start talking, and that was something I really didn’t want.

  He nodded. The way he was watching me sent a shiver down my back. His eyes, always so keen and cautious, and blue like the sky over Texas in spring, kept me frozen. Get a grip. I turned and strode toward the door. Before I walked out, I risked one more glance over my shoulder. “I don’t even know your name,” I said.

  “Fabiano,” he said. The name seemed too normal, too gentle for a man like him, especially now, covered in blood.

  “I’m Leona,” I told him. I wasn’t even sure why, but for some reason he made me curious. He hooked his fingers in his shorts and I quickly left but before I closed the door, I caught a glimpse of his backside as he headed for the shower. With every step his muscles flexed. Oh hell. I tore my gaze from his butt. There were scars all over his back but they didn’t look like flaws on him. Heat shot into my head and I quickly turned around, only to stare into Cheryl’s face. “Hon, don’t play with the big boys. They don’t play nicely,” she said cryptically.

  “I’m not playing with anyone,” I said, embarrassed that she had caught me spying on Fabiano.

  She patted my shoulder. “Just stay away from the likes of him.”

  I didn’t get the chance to ask her what she meant. Roger shouted for her to come into his office. She thrust the mop at me. “Here, you have to clean the cage.” Then she rushed off.

  It was already two in the night and I was incredibly tired. Only a few guests were scattered around tables, drinking their last beer. But most people had left after Fabiano’s fight. I shuddered when my eyes took in the bloody mess that was the fighting cage. I’d never had trouble with blood, but this was more than I’d seen in a long time. The last time I’d had to clean up such a mess was when my mother had hit her head on the bathtub in her crystal meth stupor.

  I sighed. There was no use in postponing the inevitable. I climbed through the cage doors and began mopping. Around me the last guests gathered their things, about to leave. I waved at them when they called out a good night to me.

  I kept my eyes open for Roger, hoping he’d give me some cash for today’s work. I really needed a few bucks to buy food and perhaps another pair of shoes. I grimaced when I saw a few blotches of blood had gotten on my naked toes. Sandals definitely weren’t a wise choice for a job like this.

  I also occasionally allowed myself a glance in the direction of the changing room door, but Fabiano seemed to be taking his time showering. An image of him naked under a water stream came up, and I quickly wiped the last bloodstain away and got out of the cage. I was too tired to think straight. I needed to get home, though the idea of walking home in the dark for over a mile didn’t sit well with me. I wasn’t easily scared but I had a healthy sense of self-preservation.

  After I’d put the mop and bucket away, I continued into the corridor that led to Roger’s office, but I hesitated half way through it. A woman was screaming. I shivered. Then I heard Roger’s voice. “Yes, you like it up your ass, you slut. Yes, just like that.”

  Cheryl was the one who’d screamed, but apparently in pleasure. This was too disturbing. I desperately needed the money Roger owed me but there was no way I was going to interrupt whatever they had going on. I backed away and straight into a strong body. I opened my mouth for a startled scream when a hand clamped down on my lips. Fear shot through me, and instinct took over. I shoved my elbow back as hard as I could, and collided with a rock-like stomach. My opponent didn’t even wince but he tightened his fingers on my waist, which I hadn’t even noticed before. “Shhh. It’s me.”

  I relaxed, and he dropped his hand from my lips. I twisted in his hold, tilting my head back. Fabiano. He was dressed in his black shirt and jeans, and he was clean. The wound at his hairline was stitched up. So that was what had taken so long. I couldn’t imagine fixing myself with a needle, but as a cage fighter you probably had to suffer through worse pain than a few needle pokes.

  “You scared me.”

  There was a hint of amusement in his eyes. What was so funny about it?

  I scared her? If this was the first time my actions had scared her, she was as crazy as she was beautiful.

  “I didn’t want you to interrupt Roger with your scream,” I said. Nobody wanted to see Roger with his pants down.

  Her eyes skittered to the door, and she shuddered. “I didn’t know they were a couple. They didn’t act like one.”

  “They aren’t,” I said. “They fuck.”

  “Oh.” A tantalizing blush colored her cheeks. “I should be going.”

  “Do you want me to drive you?” I wasn’t sure why the hell I was offering her a ride – again. After all, she didn’t exactly live around the corner from my apartment.

  She paused, conflict dancing in her eyes. Finally some distrust. Perhaps seeing me fight had made her realize that she should have never gotten in my car in the first place. It’s funny how differently people react to someone, depending on the outfit of the person. Suit? Trustworthy.

  “I can’t let you do that again.”

  “Then call a taxi. You shouldn’t be walking in this area alone at night.” I knew all the reasons why she shouldn’t by name.

  “I don’t have any money,” she said, then looked like she wanted to swallow her tongue.

  I reached into my bag and pulled out a roll of fifty-dollar notes.

  Leona’s eyes grew wide. “Where do you get so much money?”

  She didn’t look impressed, only wary. Good. There was nothing worse than women who decided you were worth their attention after they saw you had money.

  “Money for winning my fight.” Which was almost the truth.

  I untangled a fifty-dollar note and held it out to her.

  She shook her head vehemently. “No. I really can’t take it.”

  “You can give it back when Roger’s paid you.”

  She shook her head again but with less conviction this time. She was tired I could tell. “Take it,” I ordered.

  She blinked up at me, stunned by the command but unable to resist, so she finally took the note. “Thank you. I’ll pay you back soon.”

  People always said that to me.

  She hoisted her backpack up on her shoulder. “I need to go,” she said apologetically.

  I walked her outside. My car was right in front of the door. She glanced at it. “Do you earn that much money with cage fighting?”

  “It’s not my job. It’s a hobby.”

  More curiosity on her part. No questions. A girl who had learned that curiosity killed the cat.

  “Call a taxi,” I told her.

  She smiled. “Don’t worry I will. You don’t have to wait.”

  She wouldn’t call a taxi. I could tell. I waited patiently. If she thought she could drive me off like that, she was mistaken.

  “I don’t have a phone,” she admitted reluctantly.

  No money, no phone. I reached for mine in the pocket of my jeans when she sighed and shook her head.

  “No, don’t. I really want to walk. I can’t afford to waste money on a taxi,” she said
with blatant discomfort.

  It was obvious she was poor, so it was futile of her to try to hide it from me. Stefano wouldn’t have preyed on her if she didn’t seem like an easy target. And hell, with this shabby dress, shabbier sandals, and the fucking shabbiest backpack on this planet, it took no fucking genius to see how poor she was.

  “Then let me at least walk with you,” I told her to my own surprise.

  I didn’t want Stefano to give her another go, or have one of the thugs put a hand on her. Something about her trustful innocence drew me in like a moth to the flame. It was the thrill of the hunt, no doubt. I’d never hunted someone like that.

  “But you could drive. You don’t have to walk.”

  “You can’t walk alone at night, believe me.”

  Her shoulders slumped and her eyes darted to my car. “Then I’ll ride with you. I can’t let you walk with me and then back to the bar again to get your car.”

  I held the door open for her and she slipped in. Too trusting. I slid into the seat beside her. She sank into the leather seat, yawning, but her arms wrapped tightly around her old backpack.

  I doubted she had any treasures hidden in its depth. Perhaps she really had some sort of weapon inside to defend herself.

  Knife? Pepperspray? Gun?

  Nothing would have saved her if I had any intention of having my way with her. I started the engine, which came to life with a roar, and pulled out of the parking lot. In a close space like this she wouldn’t be able to get a good shot. I would have no trouble disarming her and then she’d be defenseless. Women often carried weapons because they thought they would protect them, but without the knowledge how to use them, they were only an additional risk.

  She told me her address again.

  “I remember, don’t worry.”

  She ran her fingertips along the black leather of her seat. “Are you from a rich family?”

  I was, but that wasn’t why I had the car and everything else. “No,” I told her.

  She fell silent. She was brimming with more questions. It was written all over her face.

  When I pulled up in front of the apartment complex, the door on the second floor opened. And I immediately recognized the man – moderately tall, half bald, pouch drooping over his belt, all over pathetic – as one of the gambling addicts who frequented one of our casinos. I hadn’t handled him yet. He wasn’t important enough, and had never owed us enough money to warrant my attention. Soto had dealt with him once. He took care of the low scum. After that one time, he’d always been on time with his rates. He was a looser who always chased the next dollar to spend it on gambling.

  “That’s my dad,” Leona said. There was a hint of tenderness in her voice. Tenderness that he sure as hell didn’t deserve. “Thanks for the ride.”

  Her father was heading down the walkway toward us, then he froze when he recognized me behind the steering wheel. I followed when Leona got out.

  “Leona!” he croaked. His eyes did a quick scan of her body. “Are you okay? Did he…?” he cleared his throat at the look I gave him. I hadn’t expected that kind of worry from him. From what I’d seen of him so far, he only gave a fuck about himself. People like him always did. That’s why I enjoyed dealing with them.

  Leona blinked. “What’s going on? I’m fine. Why are you acting so strange?”

  “Are you okay?” he asked again.

  I strode over to them. Immediately the smell of cheap spirit wafted into my nose. Gambling and alcohol were a thunderous combination. One that eventually led to an early grave. Either by the Camorra, or by Mother Nature.

  She nodded, then gestured toward me. “Fabiano was nice enough to drive me home.”

  I was many things, but nice wasn’t one of them. Her father looked like he was going to blow a gasket. “Haven’t I told you to be careful around here? You can’t just go around talking to…” He fell silent, saving his own sorry ass.

  I gave him a cold smile. “I really enjoyed talking to your daughter.”

  He rubbed his palms over his faded jeans nervously.

  “Leona, can you go ahead. I need to have a talk with your father,” I said.

  Leona’s eyes darted between her father and me. “You know each other?”

  “We have a mutual friend.”

  “Okay.” She gave me an uncertain smile. “See you soon?” It was half question, half statement.

  “You bet,” I said quietly.

  Her father clutched my arm the moment she was gone.

  “Please,” he begged. “Is this because of the money I haven’t paid? I will pay it soon. Just don’t—”

  I let my gaze fall to his fingers clutching my arm and he let go like he’d been burned. “Don’t what?” I asked dangerously.

  He stepped back, shaking his head. He was worried for himself. He’d thought I had come to deal with him.

  “I’d be sad to see her leave,” I said casually. “I suppose she’s going to stay for a while?”

  He stared at me.

  “I’d really hate for her to hear the wrong things about me. Understood?”

  Slowly he nodded.

  I returned to my car. His fearful gaze followed me as I drove off. I wasn’t even sure what exactly made me want to make her mine. Her father knew there was nothing he could do to stop me, not that he was the type to try. The only thing that could have stopped me from pursuing her now that my interest had been stirred was Remo, and he had no reason to interfere.

  Chapter Seven

  I slept late the next day. I wouldn’t have to work until three in the afternoon and needed to get some rest. When I walked into the kitchen, a box of donuts sat on the table and Dad was clutching a coffee cup.

  “Morning,” I said even though it was almost twelve o’clock. I poured some coffee for myself before I sank down on the chair across from him.

  “You got us breakfast,” I said in surprise and helped myself to a donut. I knew better than to expect pleasant surprises like that to occur on a daily basis.

  “I asked a neighbor for some money until I get paid tomorrow.” He was some sort of courier from what I’d gathered, and I wondered how he could keep the job considering that his breath always stunk of alcohol.

  “I could give you fifty dollars,” I said, pulling out the money from the waistband of my shorts. I’d learned to hide money close to my body. “Then you could pay him back and get us food for the next few days.”

  He eyed the dollar note as if it was something dirty. “Where did you get it?”

  “I found a job,” I said with a smile.

  He didn’t look happy. “And they paid you fifty dollars on your first day?”

  He made it sound like I had been doing something forbidden, something dirty.

  “No, not yet. I will get paid today.” That’s what I hoped at least. I wasn’t sure how Roger handled things but since he didn’t ask for my social security number or any other relevant information, I assumed that he wouldn’t exactly follow a regular payment plan.

  “Then where did you get that money?”

  He looked angry. What was the matter with him? He and Mom had definitely never asked many questions when it came to money. “Fabiano gave it to me.”

  He jumped up. His chair toppled to the ground with a bang. I flinched in my seat. Distant memories rose up, of him fighting with my mother, of him raising his fist and she clawing at him in turn.

  “You leant money from…him?”

  “What’s going on here?” I asked.

  “You can’t go around lending money from people like him. We don’t need more attention from people like him.”

  “People like him,” I repeated. “What kind of people exactly?”

  He looked torn. I wasn’t sure who or what he was trying to protect, but it certainly wasn’t me. He had never been the protective dad.

  “I know he’s a cage fighter, Dad. I saw him fight, okay? So please mind your own business.” Like you’ve done in the last five years.

  �
��You did? Why?” Then something seemed to click in his mind and he closed his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re working in Roger’s Arena.”

  “I do.”

  He picked up the chair and straightened it before he sank down as if his legs were too weak to carry him. “You should have never come here. I shouldn’t have let you. You’re going to get us both in trouble. I really can’t use that kind of baggage right now.”

  I frowned down at my coffee. “I’m a grown up. I can handle myself. I can’t be picky with the jobs I do. It’s not like I have much of a choice.”

  “Give him that money back today. Don’t use it for anything. And—”

  “Stay away from him?” I interrupted. It was too late for a protective Dad talk.

  “No,” he said quietly. “Be careful. I don’t need you to mess things up. It’s too late for me to tell you to stay away.”

  I got the feeling that he meant it in a different way than I had. “I could stay away. It’s not like I’m bound to him.”

  Dad shook his head. “No, you can’t stay away. Because that’s no longer up to you. He’ll decide from now on, and he won’t let you stay away until he gets whatever it is that he wants from you.” His lips curled, like he knew exactly what that was.

  I hated how he could make me feel dirty with that one expression. As if he had a right to judge me when he’d gladly let my mom sell her body so he could pay his gambling bills.

  “We’re not living in the middle ages, Dad. It’s not like he holds any power over me.” I wasn’t even sure why we were discussing this. Fabiano and I had done nothing but talk and he’d been the perfect gentleman so far. Perhaps Dad had a worse drinking problem after all, or did harder drugs. Mom had been paranoid too.

  He pulled a cigarette – his last one –from a battered packet before lighting the stub and taking a deep pull. “The Camorra owns the city, and its people. And now he owns you.” He released the smoke, cloaking us in it. I coughed.

  “Camorra?” I had heard the term in a report about Italy on TV a while back. They were a branch of the mob, but this was Las Vegas and not Naples. “You mean the mob?”