A Fortune to Die For (White Oak - Mafia Series Book 1)

by O'Connor, Liza

  “What crew?”

  “The guys who brought in all the groceries.”

  She squeaked in horror as she realized she didn’t have enough thawed chicken. She grabbed two packages from the freezer, hoping they hadn’t yet frozen inside.

  “Problem?”

  “Yes. I’m an idiot.”

  “I beg to differ,” he said and gave her the sexiest smile.

  With her stomach fluttering, she covered the chicken frying and focused on the semi-frozen stuff.

  “Okay if I make them fried chicken tenders?”

  “I can’t imagine them complaining. They love all fried things.”

  “Will they all be eating at once?”

  “No. They’ll come down in twos.”

  “Down? Where are they, on the roof?”

  He thumped her nose.

  Jeez, he had snipers on the roof? How much danger was she in to warrant a squad of snipers? She needed to focus on something else or she’d end up in a panic attack. Then all the men would starve and death squads would land helicopters on the roof to take her out.

  “I’ve never been a short order cook, but I do know my chicken tastes better if eaten right away. So can we eat first, and then I’ll cook food for two of them at a time?”

  “Whatever you want.”

  Her phone rang, and she glanced at it. “It’s Mr. Barkman. Tess said they had a great hike.”

  His smile was gone in a second. “You talked to Tess?”

  “No! She left a message.” Given his flare of anger, before she explained herself, she was very very glad she hadn’t called Tess back.

  He calmed and pushed the phone across the table. “Sorry for losing my cool. But it’s critical you don’t talk to anyone.”

  “I won’t. But when you can explain why I can’t, I would greatly appreciate knowing.”

  He smiled, then his brow furrowed. “Don’t burn dinner.”

  “Ack!” She turned and rescued the not-yet-burnt-but-thinking-about-it chicken from the skillet.

  She placed two chicken breasts on his plate and one on hers, adding baked yam fries and a cob of corn to each. She set the plates on the counter and retrieved silverware and napkins—lots of napkins. After pouring them both drinks, she placed the pitcher beside Steve, then sat down.

  The poor fellow was so hungry he’d already eaten half a chicken breast.

  “Should I bring you food while you’re working?”

  He shook his head. “Too much stress in there.” He smiled at her. “I need your soothing presence to eat.” He then refocused on the food. “Are you sure this is healthy because it tastes great.”

  “Well, perhaps not as healthy as yesterday’s meal, but it’s pretty good.”

  By the time she’d eaten half her chicken, Steve had consumed everything on his plate. He smiled at her. “I’ll have to keep a sharp eye on the guys, or they’ll run off with you. Never have I eaten so well when on a case.” He stood and kissed the back of her head. “Let me know when I can start sending the guys down for dinner.”

  Once he left the room, she put away the rest of her meal and began preparing more yam fries since they took the longest to cook. Once she had the oven loaded with fries, she used a sharp knife to slice the semi-frozen breasts into half-inch thick strips.

  She located an excessively large skillet and poured fresh olive oil onto the bottom. From there, her preparation was the same. After she flipped the chicken strips to the second side, she opened the door and pantomimed calling, then pointed upward.

  As she pulled the last tender out of the oil, two hungry men waited impatiently at the counter. She set the platter of tenders on the table and retrieved plates loaded with yam fries and corn on the cob. By the time she delivered the plates to them, the tenders were gone.

  She laughed and set down the plates. “And I thought Steve ate fast.”

  They grinned and continued to stuff the food into their mouths.

  In less than ten minutes…possibly five, they stood. “Thank you, ma’am. Your cooking was the best thing I’ve ever eaten when on duty,” one of them said while the other man nodded in agreement. A moment later, they rushed from the room.

  When Meg had the next batch ready, she let Steve know, and two more hungry wolves came to devour their meal. They were equally complimentary.

  She was only used to cooking for herself, so by the time the last happy group left, she was exhausted beyond words…yet happy. She liked making their day a little better.

  Her eyelids grew heavy, and she looked forward to sleep. She’d almost dozed off while sitting at the counter when someone entered. “Shit, did I miss dinner?”

  Her eyes snapped open, and George came into focus.

  “If you have twenty minutes, I can fix you something.”

  He sat at the counter, which she took as a yes, he had twenty minutes.

  Unlike the others, George wasn’t satisfied with her offering. “Why didn’t you make normal French fries?”

  “These are better for you.”

  “And where’s the bread.”

  She acquired him two slices of whole wheat bread.

  “You don’t have any rolls?”

  “Sorry.”

  “How about white bread? I hate this shit.”

  “Nope, just healthy stuff.”

  He huffed.

  “Maybe you should stop and get your meals from a fast food chain,” she suggested, her tone a bit snappish.

  He sighed. “Sorry for the attitude. It’s just been a bitch of a day.”

  And instantly, she felt like a jerk. “It’s okay.” As soon as George finished, he left the room, leaving her with a massive cleanup. Thank God for dishwashers! One meal had completely filled the large unit.

  She struggled to remain awake as she wiped down the counter. Feral wolves were very messy creatures.

  Familiar hands settled on her hips. “You okay?” Steve asked quietly.

  “Just tired. Can we switch rooms now? I want to sleep.”

  He sighed and turned her to face him. “Meg, we’re going to move you. This place is no longer safe.”

  “Why?”

  His jaw tensed. “Trust me, okay?”

  She nodded.

  He pressed his lips to her forehead. “I’ve packed up your clothes, and I’ll make sure your computer and phone go with you. But my order of no communication still stands.”

  She studied his worried face. Whatever was wrong had him very concerned.

  “You’ll be moving out as soon as George returns,” he continued.” I want you to follow his instructions to the letter. He’ll keep you safe.”

  Now she was worried. “You aren’t coming with me?”

  “I can’t. I have to remain here.”

  “I’d rather stay with you.”

  He shook his head. “It’s too great a risk. George will get you to a safe house in a different state.”

  “I like the plan except the part about you staying here.”

  “It’s my job.”

  “I know…but I seem to have grown very attached to you. As much as I want to leave Iowa, I’d rather be with you.”

  He tilted up her chin and leaned in. His warm breath feathered across her lips, sending tingles swirling in her stomach. He hesitated for a moment, then planted a firm kiss on her mouth, which caused her knees to buckle. His arm curved around her waist and tugged her against his hard chest, holding her up.

  He broke the kiss and peered down at her. “You okay?” The huskiness of his voice indicated he wasn’t unaffected from their shared moment either.

  “Yes…no…I don’t know.” She touched her lips. “Would you mind kissing me again?”

  He softly laughed and released her, stepping back. His eyes darkened. “I will when this is over.”

  Just then George burst in. “Ready.”

  Once Meg had packed her computer in its hard body case, she, her purse, and the PC were placed in a laundry hamper on wheels, buried under dirty sheets,
and rolled away without any chance to tell Steve she loved him.

  Meg had hoped this was a temporary torment, but even after she felt her basket roughly shoved about and then heard the start of an engine, no one came to help her out.

  The steady vibrations of the truck, with the occasional slowing and then speeding up, finally lulled her to sleep. She had no idea how long she’d dozed, but the blaring of a truck horn jarred her awake.

  “Fuck!” George cursed.

  Then Meg’s world seemed to fall into a giant dryer as she rolled among the sheets over and over, her body slammed from all directions.

  She’d been right. She should have stayed with Steve. Without him, she was going to die from her damned curse.

  Chapter 15

  Meg groaned as she regained consciousness. Pain screamed from every body part she possessed. What the hell happened? She recalled tumbling over and over…

  She opened her eyes when a gentle slap to her cheek alerted her to someone’s presence.

  “What’s your name?” a blurry face asked.

  “Eg…illians.” It hurt to move her jaw, and her lungs didn’t wish to give her much air.

  “Your real name,” the male voice demanded.

  “Ats ni nane.”

  “What’d she say?” a familiar voice asked.

  “She said Meg Williams is her real name.”

  “Which proves my theory. All woman lie.”

  Traver. The familiar voice was Traver.

  A gentle hand touched her cheek again, and she squeezed her eyes shut. Even a soft touch caused excruciating pain. What the hell had happened? Had she broken every bone in her body?

  A deep sigh came from the owner of the gentle hand. “Sleep now. We’ll talk later.”

  “What about your stupid plan?” Traver asked.

  “She’s in no condition to do anything right now.”

  “You said she was fine! I’m not marrying a cripple.”

  “I said she didn’t need a hospital. She’s a far cry from being fine. Now get out of here, and I’ll tend to Meg.”

  Finally, she recognized the voice of the man with the gentle touch. Sheriff Cobb.

  The door slammed, and then someone settled down next to her. A firm hand slipped into hers. “Just sleep now, Meg. If you prove to be as reasonable as you’ve been thus far, you’ll survive this as well.”

  ***

  Meg woke up in agony. She had no idea a body could burn with such pain. “I hurt,” she said through a jaw that wouldn’t move. Every nerve in her body was awake and screaming.

  A gentle hand rested on her forehead. “I know. Unfortunately, when I shot out the tires of the van, it rolled. But I couldn’t let Benito Campinelli get his hands on you. The man is evil through and through and loves to torture his victims. Even after he forced you into signing over the land and giving him all your money, he would have continued to torture you because the man’s a sadist.

  There’s too much at stake here. If he acquired your money and possessed your land, it would significantly increase his power and influence.” His hand moved to her arm. “Thankfully, I got word of your abduction in time to stop it.”

  “I hurt,” she whimpered from the pain.

  “I have a painkiller, but it will knock you out, and I really need some information first. What is your real name?”

  “Eg illians.”

  “Meg Williams… Then who is Megan Clarke?”

  To explain would take more air than she had. Instead, she stopped fighting the pain and fell into unconsciousness.

  She had no idea how many times this scene repeated itself in slight variations. She didn’t even know if it was really happening or just a weird nightmare looping in her head. Perhaps she had fallen in the movie Ground Hog’s Day From Hell and couldn’t get out.

  Finally, a new scene played out. Something cold pressed upon her chest. She opened her eyes to the angry glare of Traver. “You’re not hurt. You’re just yanking Lee’s chain.”

  A moment later, he pressed his gun hard against her ribs. Intense pain surged in her chest until she fell unconscious.

  When she woke up, Sheriff Cobbs sat beside her. “I can ease the pain, but you need to do something for me.”

  Did he honestly think her capable of “doing” anything? Hell, if she could move, she’d get the hell out of this nightmare. Maybe his request meant he was ready to negotiate. “What?”

  “You need to marry Traver.”

  Was he insane? So much for getting out of this nightmare. “No.”

  Sheriff Cobbs sighed. “Well, you only have two choices—me or Traver.”

  Without hesitation, she replied, “You.”

  He leaned forward. “You’d rather marry me?”

  God, she’d rather marry Satan.

  The door opened. “Well?” Traver demanded.

  “She’s still incoherent.”

  “Who cares? It’s not like it matters. In fact, mine’s a better plan than yours.”

  Sheriff Cobbs rose and pulled Traver into the hall

  She slowly moved her head, taking in the small bedroom. It was void of anything personal: beige walls, wood floor, and a twin bed with short wooden posts. An ancient old dresser stood in the corner and the white curtains were closed.

  She heard angry voices, but the only words she could make out was when Cobbs yelled, “Get rid of the driver and let me handle this.”

  A moment later, he came back in and sat down beside Meg. She opened her eyes and tried to focus on him.

  He sighed heavily. “You were smart not to have kids. They’re a royal pain in the ass.”

  “Tras your son?”

  He rolled his eyes. “Only child. My wife…” Pain flickered across his face before he regained control. “Guido Acerbi was having a birthday party. I had forbidden my wife and son to attend because I knew the party was just a cover for a meeting of the worst of the Chicago mafia. My FBI partner and I were to lead a heavy raid with orders to take down as many as we could, dead or alive.”

  His fist clenched and unclenched as his head dropped. “She promised she’d obey me and stay home. After I left, she wrote me a note saying she had to go because her absence would be seen as an insult.”

  He stared at the floor, but the way his shoulders shook, Meg thought he might be crying.

  “Once we had twenty-three mafia dons in our trap, we moved in quickly. I’d been very clear no women or children were to be harmed. If they didn’t have a clean shot, let someone with a better angle take it.”

  His pain burst forward into anguished sobs. “Eddie Campinelli, the worst of the Dons, grabbed one of the women and used her as a shield. As I moved to a new location to the left so I could take him out without harming the woman, my partner, a man I had trusted with my life, ignored my order and fired three times into the woman’s chest in an attempt to kill Campinelli.

  “From my new position, I could see her face, a face I loved more than life itself. I watched her die while the piece of slime continued to use her body as a shield while he made his way to his car and escaped.”

  He breathed in and out for several minutes before continuing. “That day changed me. It taught me you can’t live in two worlds. You gotta pick your side.”

  His eyes fixated on her. “Something you need to learn, as well. You can’t be Meg Williams as long as you’ve got Megan Clarke’s money. Just like I couldn’t be a good FBI agent and marry into the mafia. I thought I could. I believed I could do my father-in-law a favor and help remove the other families giving him trouble.” He shook his head and leaned forward. “But those people are…well, like Traver. Hot headed and a bit crazy at times.”

  A faint smile crossed his lips. “His mother was hot-tempered, too, but God, I loved her. She lobbed more than one vase at my head and cursed me to hell so many times I lost count, but she loved me with all her heart.”

  He stared up at the ceiling. “When she died, I lost the will to live. Her father slapped me out of my funk, tell
ing me the only peace I’d know was in revenge.”

  Cobbs said no more and remained silent for a very long time.

  No longer having a distraction, Meg’s pain overwhelmed her like a high tide coming in. “I hurt,” she finally said.

  He stroked her forehead. “I can ease your pain, but first you need to know the man you’re about to marry. Then you can change your mind if you want. The truth is I’ve sheltered my boy. He’s never killed anyone. Can’t say the same for me.”

  He rose, walked to the window, and stared out. “My father-in-law said I should kill Eddie Campinelli’s wife so he’d feel the same pain. But when I met Helen, seven months pregnant with her second child, I couldn’t do it. She knew who I was, but ignored my gun and walked up to me as if she didn’t fear me at all.

  “I still remember her words. ‘I am so sorry your wife died because my husband is the lowest scum on earth. He’s in the shower, and I’m going for a walk.’”

  “There were tears in her eyes as she left the room. And I let her leave. Instead, I followed the sound of water and shot Eddie Campinelli eighteen times in his shower. Had to reload my gun three times. Made a horrible mess, but, fortunately, the running water washed all the blood away.

  He breathed in deep as if the memory eased his pain. “My father-in-law was so pleased with my retaliation he made me his right-hand guy. I stayed on at the FBI, not because I believed in justice anymore, but because I was useful to my wife’s family there.” He turned and faced her.

  “I tried my hardest to keep the feds focused on the Campinellis, for they are, without question, the lowest and worst of the Chicago mafia. My diligence and determination got me three promotions in the FBI and garnered me respect with my wife’s family. Eventually, the Campinelli Family fell apart. Most of them changed their name and scurried out of Chicago like the rats they were.

  “Helen returned to Iowa with her lover. Together they raised her children in a small cabin on her property. For some reason, they never married, but I believe to this day, they still love each other.”

  “Onus?” she asked. Was Jonas part of the mafia?

  “Yes. Jonas. The consigliere of the Campinelli family. I gather you’ve met him?”

  “Yes.”

  “I bet you liked him, too.”