Barresi: Emily Trilogy: A New Orleans Mafia Romance

by Lux Miller

  “I have to kill someone…”

  I gasp as my gaze drops immediately to the man laying in the hospital bed between Mike and I. It’s so matter-of-fact that it feels like he’s bullshitting me. His piercing green stare penetrates straight to my soul, and I know in an instant that he’s not joking.

  Swallowing, I bring my eyes up slowly to meet Mike’s. He sighs heavily and nods in agreement with Dante. “While it’s slightly more complicated than that, that’s the first step…a hit on a target called by your intended superior.”

  I drop my eyes back down to Dante who yawns, then winces as he shifts his right arm, which is encased in enough gauze to rival an Egyptian mummy. I lower my voice and stare at him. “You have to… you will? You already know you’re going to murder someone?”

  Dante nods slightly. “I’ve known since I was fifteen what would be expected of me. Luca is against it, for the record. He says that the family business has destroyed the souls of enough Barresi men. That thing that happened the night we met? It was supposed to be me. Luca doesn’t know it, but I was there because I was ordered to be there. My father is not a man to leave things to chance. He always has a plan, a backup plan, and a contingency plan for the backup plan. He’s like a bad gambler who can’t help but put two bullets in the gun for Russian roulette…

  “I kinda chickened out. Luca has tried to protect me from the legacy of my birth from the time I could talk. I let him take over when I choked. He’s a good bit older than me, so he had a head start on becoming the prodigal son. Most people think he’s just trying to be better than me, but the truth is, he doesn’t have to try. He just is. And it’s not because he’s good at what he does. He’ll never admit it, but he’s not the bad guy. He’s a good guy with a bad job to keep even badder people under control.

  “The family business claimed him when I was ten. He was never a happy-go-lucky kind of person, but he used to be… different. He’d take me fishing. He taught me how to ride a bike. He used to pin me down and fart on my face to get my slice of cake. Father was always busy as my grandfather’s right-hand man… but the night my Pa got pinched, it all changed.

  “Our Father became the acting Don since the only way my Pa will leave Angola is in a body bag. Luca became a made man, trading in the rest of his childhood for power. Luca will tell you he set out to make his bones that night, but he’s a fucking liar. Not with what happened. No man would intentionally…”

  Dante trails off as Mike makes the most disgusting noise of indignance that I’ve ever heard. My gaze snaps to his, and my eyes widen as he avoids looking at me. Whatever Dante was going to say, it’s clear that he’s certainly not going to do so now. He’s clammed up tighter than a Bayou fishing net. Dante sighs and lifts his arm slowly, “So I hear I’m part bionic now?”

  I exhale with a nervous laugh and nod, “From what I hear, yeah. Your hand is more metal than bone now.” An unsettled calm washes over the three of us as it gets eerily quiet. Several minutes tick by on the school lunchroom style clock that’s attached the wall over Dante’s head. Nobody says anything and nobody looks at each other until another nurse pops into the room.

  She nods at us, and smiles at Dante. “Well, Mr. Barresi. Since you’re awake, how is your pain level?”

  Dante shrugs. “It doesn’t hurt as bad as getting shot by assassin’s bullets, so I guess that’s a positive.” He flashes the nurse a charming grin, and she nods slowly as she writes down his response on her clipboard. “So on a scale of one to ten, one being you feel fine and ten being the most intense pain of your life, where are you right now?”

  Smirking, Dante chews on his bottom lip before responding, “Which one will get me your number?”

  The young nurse’s face blanches. She’s caught completely off guard by Dante’s advances, and it’s painfully obvious that this fish ain’t biting. She shakes her head. Though she’s unable to keep the blush from creeping up along her neck and finally blooming across her cheeks, she somehow manages to tactfully turn him down before scurrying out of the room. In a not-so-quiet voice, she demands to be relieved of returning to his room.

  Dante gives a little shrug as he grumbles, “Just trying to take my dick for a dip before taking care of business.”

  I make a gagging noise and cut my eyes at Dante. “Honey, you don’t need to try to seduce a woman that isn’t interested. I’m sure there’s plenty of women who would… you know… do whatever it is you need done.”

  Dante smirks at me. If I wasn’t thankfully immune to his charm, he’d probably have me wanting to drop my panties. “I know, but sometimes I want a challenge. Besides, did you see the perky ass on that one? It was screaming about how nicely it would have taken my--”

  I lean down over Dante and clamp my hand over his mouth before he can finish his sentence. “Don’t even finish that thought, much less that sentence. You can engage in all the freaky sex you want, just don’t give me details… besides, it’s not like you’re in any condition to be tapping ANY ass, nurse or otherwise… you sir, need to go home and rest that wrist.”

  Dante’s eyes flash to mine. “Yes, ma’am. But I need you to take me somewhere first. And before you ask, yes, I mean on the way home. I have some business that I have to attend to tonight…”

  NINE

  Now that Dante’s sedation and pain medication have largely worn off, he’s not nearly the Chatty Cathy he was before. In fact, Dante is even quieter than Mike was earlier. We’ve been riding in the backseat of one of the family cars for what seems like hours, though I know we just left the hospital few minutes ago. Mike is staring at the road from the driver’s seat, and Dante’s nose is buried in his phone in the back. He’s furiously attempting to text with his left, which is mostly resulting in him inventing new combinations of swear words like twatknocker and fuckfrenzy.

  I do my best to stifle the giggle that spills out at the latest creation, but my attempts are in vain. Seeing a grown-ass man like Dante creating a new language because he can’t text is both gut-bustingly funny and heartbreakingly sad. “Dante, what is so important on that phone that it can’t wait?”

  Dante huffs and hurls his phone into the front seat. “Nothing.” He flops back against the seat and winces. His wrist is gingerly cradled against his body, so I’m guessing his reaction is to his still-not-quite-fully healed shoulder. It’s mostly healed. He’s able to use it now and has gotten surprisingly fast at swimming laps, but throwing himself back against an immovable object like a two-year-old in a tantrum was probably not the brightest idea.

  I nudge him gently and freeze when he turns his cold gaze on me. “What I said earlier. That was—”

  I narrow my eyes at him and shake my head before he can really begin his thought. “Dante, don’t. I’m not an idiot. I know it was privileged information, and the last thing I’m going to do is run to the stupid high-society publications. I’m not a girl looking for glory.”

  Dante narrows his eyes right back. “I was going to say that it could be misconstrued, but I guess it’s reassuring that you aren’t itching to sell my brother out…”

  Groaning, I throw both of my hands in the air and flop back against the unforgiving seat myself. “Y’all have some serious hang-ups about the shit you blabber about. If you don’t want me knowing, don’t tell me. I haven’t shared any of your secrets with anyone who didn’t already know them. Four months of silence on my end and you’d think I’d earned a little fucking respect.”

  I slam my arms across my chest and turn my back to Dante as the car Mike is driving eases into a long, winding driveway in front of a statuesque home I’ve never seen. Manicured gardens surround the looming columns of the French influenced architecture that is obvious throughout New Orleans. The home itself is modernly modest as it stands guard over the picturesque setting.

  I may be silently seething inside right now, but the sheer beauty of the building takes my breath away. I press hands to the window as my eyes roam over the grandeur that meets my gaze. I feel like
a kid in a candy store that just stares in wonder the first time they see it - like they’ve never seen anything so amazing in their lives.

  The car crawls to a stop at the front steps that rise into a wraparound verandah that is the stuff of legend. This is the kind of house that writers pompously pimp as gorgeous backdrops to wild romance stories that could never happen in the real world. Yet, here sits this gem of a mansion in the middle of downtown New Orleans.

  Okay, that’s not completely accurate. It’s not located in the gritty downtown glory of the city of Voodoo. It’s tucked away on the outskirts of Uptown New Orleans in the glitzy Garden District, and it’s a hell of a home.

  My silent appreciation of the statuesque scene is sullied by Dante as he bumps my arm. “Emily…”

  Blinking the wonder out of my eyes, I turn to glance over my shoulder. His face is drawn with none of the normal humor dancing in his eyes, and it instantly sets me on edge. Turning my entire body to face him, I gently grab his hand. “Dante…?”

  His squeezes my hand with his and then glances up at Mike in the front seat. “I know you know what I’ve been ordered to do. I won’t tell you not to call Luca, because I know he has you under orders that the minute I fuck up, to alert him so he can swoop in and try to save me. So call if you must, but you know as well as I do that this is something I have to do. So, give me a five minute head start at least?”

  Mike blows out an unsteady breath in the front seat. His eyes flick to the rearview mirror, and I can see a whirlwind of emotions flitting across his face - sadness, worry, anger… they cycle so quickly that no emotion clouds his features for more than mere seconds. After what feels like an eternity passes, Mike bows his head once. “Five minutes. That’s all I can give you… and only because I know it’s orders…”

  Dante lets go of my hand and pulls up his shirt in the front. He reaches into the storage compartment that’s on the back of the seat in front of him, and he pulls out a handgun. He looks it over and pops open the cylinder, loading bullets into one by one from a box that was stored with the gun. He nods and pops the cylinder back in, then clicks on the safety and pushes the gun into the waistband of his pants.

  He opens his door and swings his legs out, then peers back at me over his shoulder. “Can I trust you?”

  Feeling like the weight of the world was loaded into that question, I nod nervously. Dante returns my nod and motions towards the mansion with his head. “Then come with me.”

  Mike makes another indignant noise, and if I didn’t think he was disguising his attempt to say something, I’d think he had a frog in his throat. Dante sighs, “Mike, if she’s going to be a mafia girlfriend and maybe a mafia wife, she deserves to know the truth… the whole truth, not some watered down safe version. She needs to know how the man she supposedly loves gained his power.”

  Mike’s eyes meet mine briefly in the rearview mirror, and all I can see there now is sadness. He doesn’t say anything though and breaks our gaze soon enough to stare straight ahead.

  Dante nods. “I knew you’d see things my way. Come on, Emily. It’s time I introduce you to La Cosa Nostra - this thing of ours.”

  Swallowing, I scoot across the bench seat and step out of the car behind Dante. I know I probably look a fright, as I wasn’t planning on going anywhere outside of a hospital waiting room.

  Gravel crunches as Dante’s heavy footsteps fall one after another on the driveway. He walks up the dozen steps that lead to the wooden wrap-around porch, and I follow behind meekly because honestly, right now I have no idea what’s going on or what I’m about to encounter.

  The two burly men guarding the front door barely flinch as Dante approaches. Indeed, the only acknowledgement they give is a curt nod of the head in Dante’s direction as he pushes through the front door. Feeling their gaze fall to me, I scramble to keep up with Dante, not wanting to be left at the mercy of men who make Bourbon Street bouncers look like middle-schoolers.

  Dante chews on his bottom lip as we step inside a brightly lit atrium with hanging chandeliers. He seems nervous, but I know it’s not my place to ask. Pacing back and forth, Dante covers the length of the enormous front room twice before he turns to me. “Follow me…”

  Not really having any other choice, I trudge along behind him as he makes a beeline for a closed door that also has a pair of guards posted outside. This time, both men step into his path, their grimaces menacing as they stare down at him. These men are intimidating, but I can’t help notice how much one of them looks like Mike, and it makes shiver.

  “Paul… Marco… move…”

  Dante’s voice is even, but there’s a menacing tone hovering just underneath the coolness.

  Neither man moves as Dante blows out a breath. “I’m sure you’re not dense enough to disobey a direct order.”

  The one Dante addressed as Paul says nothing, eyeing the pair of us with a look on his face that says he’s not going to take any bullshit out of anybody. The other one sneers at Dante, “Look, baby boy Barresi wants to start acting badass…”

  Paul clears his throat and lands a well-placed thwack across the one named Marco’s chest. Marco growls under his breath, but Paul shakes his head. He’s obviously the one in charge, and anyone with eyes can see that it eats Marco’s ass.

  Paul clears his throat, “Look son, neither you nor I want an incident, so…”

  Dante’s voice drops dangerously low and the tone in his voice is so sharp, he could cut steel right now if he tried. “You and I both know my father will have you drawn and quartered in the square if you cause me to disobey a direct order. He forgave my brother for…” Dante clears his throat, then leans closer to the greying man, “...interfering, but he will not be so lenient with you. I suggest you let me in…”

  Paul is visibly uncomfortable as he fidgets in place, then he finally elbows Marco and jerks his head toward the side. “Let the boy pass.”

  Marco narrows his eyes at me and scowls. “And the girl? Isn’t this the one Luca is test-driving? I sure can’t wait until he’s done with her and I can have a go… she’s a pretty little thing.”

  Dante growls and barks at Marco, “Back the fuck off the girl. You will not touch her. She’s with me.”

  Marco’s face looks thunderous as he gives Dante a curt nod and steps aside, “Yes… sir…” He grinds out the words like they’re poison as his murderous gaze remains locked on me. Dante ushers me past the two towering guards. Once we’re inside the room, he shuts the door behind himself and locks it from the inside, then turns to a large mahogany desk that sit across the room.

  Behind the massive piece of furniture sits the intimidating man I now know to be Dante and Luca’s father. He has a stack of papers in front of him, but he doesn’t bother to look up when we enter the room. Dante takes a deep, unsteady breath, then bends his head to each side. I can hear a subtle popping of bones, and Dante exhales with relief. He takes three steps across the room before Matteo looks up at him. Dante’s voice is distant and somewhat cold as he acknowledges him, “Father…”

  Matteo sits up straight in the high-backed leather chair in which he’s perched. He reaches up and pulls off a pair of reading glasses as he folds a newspaper and sets it across the scattered paperwork that covers the surface of the desk. His stare is fixed on Dante with acute precision as Dante slowly approaches the desk. “Dante… my son. I see you’ve received your orders.”

  Dante nods. “I have, Father…”

  The air whooshes out of the room as Dante reaches into his waistband and produces the handgun I just saw him stash there in the car. “Assassin’s bullets… just like you ordered…”

  Matteo nods, his eyes fixed on ME as he speaks. “And the silencer?”

  I hear a couple of metallic clinks and soft grunt, followed by Dante’s voice again. “Done…”

  Matteo steeples his fingers as he rests his elbows on the desk. “I spoke to your mother just minutes ago about your assignment. Needless to say, she’s upset. She will underst
and in time why it’s necessary.”

  My eyes flit to Dante. He nods, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down in his throat as he keeps his eyes glued to his father. “Father? That’s where my agreement with you ends… she will never understand…”

  I feel my blood run cold as Dante cocks the hammer on the gun and disengages the safety. “Momma’s a forgiving woman, but even she won’t forgive me for this…”

  Matteo’s eyes grow wide as Dante aims the gun in his direction, engaging a laser focus that sits square between Matteo’s eyes. Matteo flinches slightly as I gasp. Dante edges closer and closer to the desk, growling, “Put your hands where I can see them… Father…”

  Both of my hands fly to my face as I realize what’s happening. My feet are frozen to the floor as Dante prowls ever closer to his father. He edges himself around the desk so that he’s standing over Matteo, the gun still perilously aimed at Matteo’s face.

  I swear I almost see a cruel smirk begin to twist Matteo’s features. Dante shifts himself so that his back is to the door as he presses the gun against Matteo’s forehead. There’s a sadness to his voice as he begins to mutter words in Italian that I can’t understand. It almost sounds like a prayer, but I can’t be sure. As he finishes his mutterings, I can hear Matteo’s voice softly in sync with his as both men perform the sign of the cross.