For Fallon (Chicago Syndicate)

by Naomi, Soraya

  Turning into the parking lot of the restaurant where I’m meeting Adriano, I cut off the engine and rake my hands through my hair. I’ve stopped listening to my rational side when it comes to her. As the underboss, I’m treading on dangerous ground if I become attached to Fallon.

  Opening the door of the Italian restaurant, I see Adriano’s already seated in the back booth. “Luca,” he welcomes.

  I nod my head. “Did you finish everything in Crystal Lake?” Adriano stayed behind to relay the rules of the territory to Leggia’s men. They can pretend to regulate the drug traffic there. Additional investigation surrounding the Crystal Lake territory came up empty. Leggia wants it for no apparent reason; he can have it.

  “Yes. It’s all done. They weren’t—”

  The waitress, a tall redhead, hands us menus.

  Adriano flirts with her and the shy little thing doesn’t know how to react to him. “I’ll be back to take your order, sir.”

  He continues after red is out of hearing distance. “They weren’t receptive. Where Leggia finds his arrogant soldiers, I’ll never know.”

  “I don’t get why Leggia wanted it in the first place. Salvatore didn’t find anything interesting we might’ve overlooked. They’re now solely responsible for any drug activity on Crystal Lake ground, and that place is abhorrent to rule.”

  “Good riddance,” Adriano agrees. “I’m getting the Arrabbiata pasta.” He waves over the redhead. “And I’m thinking of getting her too. A fiery redhead will do me some good tonight.”

  “I’ll have the same.” I take another good look at red. “Good luck. She’s seems pretty timid to me.”

  She hurries toward us. “Did you make a choice, sir?”

  I indicate with a swift nod to Adriano to play his game with her. “Two Arriabbiata, with extra Parmigiano.”

  I hand her my menu. When she takes Adriano’s, he holds on to it to get her attention. He winks at her and her cheeks redden before she turns away.

  “If I can’t have her tonight, I’m going to the house.”

  James uses a house alongside the North Shore of Chicago’s suburbs as our center of operations. It’s located in a secluded area without neighbors in sight, and the deed is in Alessa’s maiden name. Alessa is James’ wife, but they never legally married. We - the highest ranking members of the Chicago Calderone Syndicate - all know her as Alessa Calderone, but legally and officially, she isn’t connected to James whatsoever.

  “Haven’t you been through all the women at the house?” I joke, although there could be some truth in that statement.

  “Probably, but I want to fuck tonight.” Adriano sits back and is cautious to ask me his next question. “What did you do today?”

  I sigh, realizing he wants to know if I was with her. “Fallon.”

  He’s not even surprised. “You talked to her again? Did you get any resourceful info for us? We need Danny,” he reminds me.

  Danny Mancuso is number one on our wanted list. Danny worked for James behind the scenes for years. Even the Mafia needs IT men. We need them to hack into every government system that could have important information for us and to make the people we finish off disappear from every system as if they never existed. Danny’s one of the best hackers in town.

  After five years, Salvatore found out that Danny also became avaricious. He was programming and leaving behind viruses so that we had to pay him more to eliminate those viruses before the hacked system detected that we had access to it.

  Being a hacker for our crime syndicate is a covetous job. The reward is high but so is the risk. The hacker has inside information on what we do; therefore the hacker will never get out alive, he’ll always be associated with us. You can only leave this job if you’re dead.

  For Danny, apparently the monetary compensation wasn’t enough. He’s a man looking for prestige, acknowledgement, wanting to move up in rank. A hacker is not considered a true member and can never be ranked in our Syndicate. Danny sensed the net closing in on him and disappeared abruptly. He’s a liability we can’t afford, and James wants him finished off. He was spotted in The Loop, and I found out that the only person of interest he has in that area is Fallon Michaels, his ex-girlfriend.

  “I talked to her this afternoon. I checked her phone and phone records. She didn’t return his call. They haven’t had any contact in years. He’s desperate if he calls an ex who he hasn’t spoken to in a long time. So far, it seems like she’s not helping him hide in any way.” I pause, hesitant to tell him everything. “I’m going out with her tomorrow.”

  Now amazement is thrown my way. “On a date?”

  “Yes,” I coolly say. “I’m drawn to her. I can’t explain it, Adriano. She’s ruling my thoughts.”

  “Fuck, Luca. Be careful. Attachments are dangerous. Especially with her, now. I think you need to come to the house with me tonight.”

  I rub my palm over mouth. “Maybe I should.”

  Our food arrives and by this time, Adriano is bored with the timid waitress. “Red’s no fun. Eat up.” He points his fork to my pasta dish. “We’re going to the house.”

  Driving separately to our destination, I park in the circular driveway. The mundane but fairly large three-story, white brick house is our main quarters. As usual, a prospect is guarding the front entrance. The front doors open into a foyer covered in grey marble tiles. We ascend the stairwell in the quiet house and move to the right, toward the largest room on the second floor, which - in essence - is just an in-house strip club. Adriano cracks his knuckles for emphasis before he places his hands on the doorknobs of the double doors.

  Soft music is filling the burgundy-decked-out room. Two men, Adriano’s soldiers, are slouching on the massive half-round couch in the middle of the room, each with a girl on his lap. Both stand abruptly as we enter. “Padrino,” they greet simultaneously. Inferiors address their superiors as Padrino in our Syndicate.

  We nod and allow them to carry on while the scantily clad women eye me.

  “Have some fun, Luca. I’m going to enjoy Camilla,” Adriano announces and wanders to the bar to our left where she’s sitting on a stool.

  Camilla is Adriano’s favorite girl. She’s an exotic Italian with long legs and unblemished olive skin that she doesn’t cover in make-up. Adriano and I share a preference for natural looking women. She’s clever and pensive. The only woman here I converse with on a friendly level. Most of these girls will do anything if we throw them enough money. Not Camilla, who’s frankly reserved for our little strip club. She tends the small bar set up on the left side of the room. Adriano saw her the first night and forbade any of the soldiers to touch her. The Capi respect each other and wouldn’t dare defy Adriano either. She’s been here for over a year and Adriano is infatuated with her, so he keeps her all to himself. She’s in love with him. I’ve seen her hurt expression when the men talk about Adriano’s whorish ways. He’s not ignorant - he knows she’s in love with him. He’s adamant about not wanting any attachments, but unfortunately for him, he can’t stay away from her.

  Behind the bar, I grab a water bottle instead of an alcohol-infused drink. Rarely do I drink, only when I’m extremely wound up and I need to calm down. Taking big gulps of water, I spot a brunette, Skye, walking up to me.

  The first few years, I used to be on this side of the house often, enjoying myself with different women. But meaningless, nameless sex lost my interest as the years went by. I would still indulge myself once in a while, but I couldn’t find satisfaction in any of this anymore. This life, Adriano and I would never have gotten involved in if it wasn’t for James’ nephew.

  Uncle Joseph - mio zio - raised me after my parents died when I was ten. He always tried to make up for the loss of both my parents. Even though we didn’t have a lot of means and money, parental affection was in abundance from mio zio Joseph. When his heart failure forced him to cease working, I was just a boy coming into the way of the world. A boy of seventeen wanting to take care of his second father.
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br />   One choice changed the course of my life from carefree teenager to a young man groomed to be in the Mafia. I landed a job at a bakery in the city to help support my family of two. An American-Italian bakery run by Alessa Calderone. Every day after school, I worked and I didn’t have any plans to attend college. I lived day by day, praying daily that my uncle’s health wouldn’t deteriorate. But zio Joseph was slowly dying, living here in Chicago, cooped up inside the house. I knew that if it wasn’t for me, he would be moving back to his beloved Italy.

  The first day at the bakery, I met Adriano. He was one year my junior, and we shared common teenage boys interests like roughhousing, football, biking, and, of course, our responsiveness to pretty girls bonded us most. Adriano also worked daily after school, and we became close friends.

  After working at the bakery for a month, we both noticed there were regular customers coming in. Alessa catered to a menacing-looking crowd of men in fitted suits and angry expressions covering their faces. Apart from the regulars, the bakery wasn’t busy often, but it was still open daily until eleven p.m. We actually never questioned that back then.

  One night, an Italian boy came running into the bakery when Alessa was gone and only Adriano and I were present. Out of breath, he closed the door and looked around, scared. He begged us for help because some men were after him. Adriano and I shrugged and were looking forward to some action on an otherwise dull Tuesday night. We told the boy to hide behind the counter as Adriano and I put on our invincible façade. Three men in wrinkled suits – men that we had seen before - were checking the bakery and the area outside before they dared stepping in and drilling us. Neither Adriano nor I recoiled. I didn’t think they would dare touch us since Alessa adored both Adriano and me, and all men feared Alessa. I told them to fuck off and one of them drew his fist into my face, ordering me to surrender the boy or they would light the place on fire. Adriano and I both laughed, standing our ground. I laughed even though I was scared, but one thing I learned from my uncle was to never show fear. Intimidation preys on fear. I remembered Alessa telling me on my first day that if the shop was ever robbed, I was to mention the name James Calderone, so I told the three men that James was already on his way. This made them back off and they scampered away.

  I should’ve never mingled in this situation if I wanted to stay off the radar of James Calderone. The boy was Alessa’s nephew, and he told Alessa how I saved him. Alessa - in turn - told James, and the truth always gets contorted with each passing person, making it more heroic than it was in reality. James came in the next day and promised two impressionable young boys money, power, and women. Money for me to send zio Joseph back to live a peaceful and healthy life in Italy.

  Adriano and I fell for his story and became his prospects. We were prospective Mafiosi without knowing. James had a mandatory stipulation that we attend business college, always reminding us how valuable business skills are in the Cosa Nostra, or Syndicate, as James likes to call it. Money and women ruled our life for four years of college. Adriano and I had inquisitive young minds and breezed through college living as young princes. James ensured membership for both Adriano and me after graduation when we were twenty-two.

  As with all prospective Mafiosi, we were bound into silence – omertà, the code of silence and secrecy that prohibits us from disclosing information about the activities of our criminal organization - by being required to commit murder to prove our loyalty.

  Adriano and I shared everything from prospects to made men. I witnessed his first kill and he mine. I pulled my trigger the first time on a young associate, who was an informant for the FBI, in an abandoned warehouse on the north side of Chicago that’s used to torture captives. It was a clean, quick, and simple kill. An associate works for or aids the clan but isn’t considered a true member. Non-true members may be killed without permission of the Capo crimine or underboss; therefore those kills are simple. This profoundly changed us. Killing a person, ending a life haunts you forever. The crazy thing is that your mind adapts. It now justifies the taking of lives because they’re not innocents. As time passes and you live in a world where every human life is expendable, ‘normal’ emotions get phased out and you become detached to the viciousness. We made the conscious choice to never get attached to an outside woman; sustaining a relationship with a regular citizen is impossible.

  James was the underboss back then. When James became the Capo crimine – boss - of our Syndicate, I was promoted from Capo to underboss at the age of twenty-six. Adriano was promoted from soldier to Capo. Everybody started calling me Padrino.

  The power didn’t excite me, the world didn’t excite me, and the women didn’t excite me anymore. The constant worrying, arranging, and scheming tires me. Never can I just be. I will forever be on guard with everything I do. Once in, you can never ever leave alive.

  Skye places her hands on my chest. “Want me to take your mind of things, Luca?” She takes hold of my hand and leads me to one of the three private rooms in the back. When she holds the door open for me, I step inside the grey-white room with a four-poster bed in the center and sit on the bed while I undo the button of my suit jacket. Skye slides it off my shoulders, and I close my eyes.

  Fallon.

  Remembering how it felt to finally caress her smooth skin with my lips, I feel an undeniable passion threatening to boil inside me. I try my best to stay in this moment while Skye attempts to push back my hair that’s clinging to my forehead, but I still her movement with my fingers wrapped forcefully around her arm. “Get out,” I order in a low voice and release her arm, shoving her away from me.

  Confusion is setting in. Fallon is starting to creep under my skin. She’s igniting a sensation I’m unfamiliar with, beyond any sensation I’ve experienced before, and I am going to pursue her.

  CHAPTER 8

  Fallon

  Sundays have always been a lazy day for me. This Sunday, as usual, I read and lounge around the apartment, but I did go running this morning. I paint my nails, toes and fingers, in a vivid red color. I start my grooming around five: shave my legs, scrub my skin until it feels like satin, blow dry my hair and curl the ends, which are now flowing in light waves over one shoulder. My bangs are swept to the side, and I decide on light au naturel makeup: some mascara, blush, and nude lipstick.

  Standing before my closet in my black lace underwear, I look through my dresses that are hanging in the closet and stop at my dark blue dress to remove it from the hook. I also decide on my strappy black sandals. Since spring just started – and winter recently ended - I wear my black thigh high stockings. My dress has a silver beaded halter top that ties around my neck in a big bow and a knee length A-line skirt. The soft fabric complements my silky soft skin, and I finish my look with white gold diamond studs that I only wear on special occasions. I’m tying the straps on my sandals when my phone rings, and I grab it off of the bed.

  Before I get the chance to speak, Teagan yells, “Hey, babe!”

  “Hey, babe. What did you do today?”

  “I went shopping at Harrods.”

  “I’m getting ready for my date with Luca.” I sit back up without tying my left sandal.

  “I told you he’d call.”

  “He didn’t call. Well, not to ask me out. I saw him again at the shop yesterday.”

  “I was kind of right,” Teagan persists.

  Wanting her opinion on my dress, I tell her, “I’m wearing the blue dress with the beaded halter.”

  “The silver beading?”

  “Yes,” I confirm.

  “Fabulous choice. Is he still cute? You usually lose interest once you’ve had a conversation with a guy.”

  “He actually quoted Alexandre Dumas,” I boast.

  “Well, then you have got to marry him,” she mocks. “Are you having dinner or what?”

  “Yes, dinner. He’s picking me up in a few.”

  “Did you shave your legs?” she probes softly.

  “I did but not for reasons you think,
” I retort quickly to stop her.

  “My girl is going to get laid. Now I’m proud.”

  “I have to finish. I was putting on my black sandals when you called.”

  “Another sexy choice. I approve.”

  “I’m glad,” I reply dryly.

  “You do realize I will be texting you throughout the night,” she says in a matter-of-fact tone.

  I groan through my smile. “I know. Just don’t expect me to answer you right away.”

  “You better. Or on second thought, only answer when the steamy stuff happens.”

  “Yeah, that won’t happen. I won’t be thinking of you then.” I add, “I hope.” And we both laugh.

  “He’s not doing a good job if you’re thinking of me then. Go have fun. We’ll talk, or text, or e-mail. Do things I would I do.” Teagan makes a kissing noise.

  “We’ll text later. Bye bye.”

  I toss my phone on the bed and finish putting on my shoes. Standing in front of the mirror, I approve of my look. The doorbell rings right on time, and I buzz Luca in. Pitching my phone in my purse, I check myself one final time as Luca knocks softly. When I open the door, my mouth almost hits the ground taking in the sight of him. Funnily enough, we match in dark blue. He’s wearing a midnight navy pinstripe suit with a white dress shirt - no tie - that shows off his muscular physique. I shamelessly check him out from top to bottom. His top button is undone. As I gaze back up, our eyes meet - he was also checking me out. His hair is neatly combed back, but some strands won’t stay in place, and I’m ecstatic that he didn’t shave but only trimmed. He stares at me for a moment longer while I timidly stand there for a second before stepping aside, inviting him in.

  Luca steps closer to me and bends his head to give me a kiss on my cheek, and the corner of our mouths touch. He lingers there. “You look exquisite, Fallon.” His lips are touching mine but not kissing me. This is more intimate than an actual kiss on the mouth. The heat of his lips ignites my cheeks.