Easton's Crime: A Second Chance: (Argenti Crime Family)

by Audrey North

  Table of Contents

  Main Story

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Bonus Content

   Copyright 2017 by Audrey North - All rights reserved.

  In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written permission from the publisher. All rights reserved.

  Respective authors own all copyrights not held by the publisher.

  Easton’s Crime:

  A Second Chance

  (Argenti Crime Family)

  By: Audrey North

  Table of Contents

  Main Story

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Bonus Content

  1

  Easton’s father’s office always used to feel like an uncharted mystery. As a child, he watched as men in their fine business suits, who held an air of significant importance, walked in through his grand oak doors and disappeared into the warm, wood-paneled room. The rest of the sprawling estate was Easton’s to run free, but not the office. Once in a while he would peak inside, the mystery just too great to stay away from, but his father made it perfectly clear that he was not ever to enter.

  His father himself was his own mystery. He didn’t come to career days at school, telling Easton that not every career path was easily explained, and he never brought him to take your son to work day telling his son that he just wouldn't understand what he did. By the time Easton became a teen, he knew that his father was a very important man, that many people worked under him and looked up to him. But he also understood that his father was not a great man who did good things, and it was these horrors of his reality that he tried to shield his only son from.

  It wasn't until Easton’s eighteenth birthday when his father took him to a dark, quiet bar where he told him the truth. Sitting in the rich, plush booth with two glasses of sweating scotch, Easton’s first drink more than a stolen beer, that he learned his father’s business. The family business. His father, Samuel Argenti, was in the mafia.

  “You have your choice,” he told his son. Sitting across the booth he offered him a life. “You can go to college, have some sort of career and work your life away. Or you can follow in my footsteps. Live a life like mine.”

  That was all he needed to say before he shot back the last sips of his whiskey and slammed the glass on the table. He stood and nodded to the bartender and headed for the door, leaving Easton alone with his glass to decide his future. As he walked past, he stopped and squeezed Easton’s shoulder, then walked out into everyone else's regular day. But for Easton, what had been a regular day was the day he had to choose his whole life.

  As Easton sat in the booth, he thought about the life that his father lived, not the job or the things he was made to do, which he didn’t know much about, but the lifestyle he provided. He had given Easton’s mother an impressive house that was more like a mansion, given his mother the finest jewelry and clothes, given Easton everything he asked for, and taken the family on luxurious vacations.

  Who wouldn't want that type of life? If that wasn't enough to entice his eighteen-year-old brain away from college, then the power and prestige that his father held would be. All his life he’d seen men treat him with the highest respect, open doors, offer up their tables in a busy restaurant, look at him as if he was the almighty himself.

  Yes, that was the life Easton knew he wanted.

  Five years later he sat in my father’s office, the one that no longer seemed like a mystery but like he’d always been allowed into his selective club. He’d been so proud when Easton decided to join him, whereas his mother hurt from it, wished he had chosen a life far away from theirs. She loved the life his father gave her but had hoped her son would find a different path, a safer path. But instead, he was becoming just like the man he’d idolized.

  “I think it’s time I start upping your responsibilities,” he told his son while he poured two glasses of scotch, both on the rocks.

  Easton nodded and took the glass from him. He’d been feeling bored, restless, lately and getting more responsibility would hopefully take the edge off of that.

  “I have a new project for you. I need you to get some information on Eli Spano.”

  A cautious man, he handed Easton a sheet of paper that listed the dirt he needed from the man. As soon as he left he knew his father would destroy the paper as well. It was a life lesson he had taught, that there were ears and eyes everywhere, even the places you felt the safest.

  “His ex-wife, that’s where you’ll get the information you need. He cheated and she’s pissed. But it has to be delicate, it has to be smart. You can’t jump into this, it’ll make her cautious. While she may no longer care about him, she could get into some very big trouble if people found out the things she knew.”

  “Is that your plan?” he asked while he read and memorized the sheet.

  “No. She isn’t worth anything to me. He is, though. And I need her to tell you what she knows.”

  Easton handed the paper back to him and he promptly stuck it in the paper shredder. The machine came to life, eating the evidence and then spitting it back out into pieces. Most people would stop there, but not his father. When the bag filled with shredded documents, he’d shred them again, making it nearly impossible to put the confetti back together in case he ever got caught.

  That part of Easton’s life made him weary, the constant fear of getting caught. The over cautious lifestyle that required he and his loved ones to constantly watch over their shoulders for police, or a rival member. But, he’d made his life choice. Sure he’d been young and possibly blinded by power and money, but he’d chosen it, and now it was the path he’d have to walk.

  “So, how exactly do you plan on me getting this information for her?”

  Easton’s father sipped his scotch and leaned back in his chair. “Figuring that out, my boy, is part of the job.”

  2

  “Ok, so what about this hoodie?” Claire asked.

  Maisie looked at the ratty college hoodie, one she wore as almost a second skin throughout her entire relationship with Ben.

  “Trash,” she said simply.

  Claire obeyed and threw it into the ever growing trash bag of Maisie’s lying, cheating, ex-boyfriend’s things. It hurt to watch the hoodie, which now had holes in the sleeves and was missing the drawstring, get thrown away as if it hadn’t mattered. When Ben went away for college it was her favorite piece of comfort. She’d curl up in her apartment with the stuffed giraffe he’d bought for her during their date at the zoo, and throw on his hoodie, feeling as if it was his arms wrapped around her instead of some cloth. But now she couldn’t even look at it. All she could imagine was another girl, the faceless, nameless, girl who he cheated on her with, wrapped in one of his newer hoodi
es.

  New hoodie for a new girl.

  “Maisie?” Claire asked.

  Maisie looked up from the garbage bag, one that was full of ticket stubs and dried roses, Valentine’s Day cards, and his clothes. Tears were brimming in her eyes and she could no longer tell if it was the anger or the sadness for everything that she had lost that was boiling inside of her but the emotions ran down her cheeks.

  “That’s it,” her best friend and roommate declared. “I knew we couldn’t do this without alcohol.” Claire put an arm around her best friend. “We need a shot, or seven,” she teased and pulled her from the bedroom to their makeshift bar in the kitchen.

  “Vodka or whiskey?”

  “I can’t believe he cheated,” Maisie said to herself. Running her fingers through her hair.

  “Yup, it’s a whiskey and wine night,” Claire made the decision for her.

  Pouring two shots she handed one to Maisie and kept the other for herself. “Cheers,” she attempted to toast the small glasses together.

  Halfheartedly Maisie lifted her own. “What are we toasting to?”

  “To taking out the trash,” Claire answered her.

  That finally made Maisie laugh a little and she downed her shot in one quick swig. Claire did the same and quickly poured them both another, which they both toasted again and let the liquid burn down their throats. Maisie could feel her body relaxing, the blood cooling in her veins from the pain that he’d put her through.

  “Listen, Ben was a great guy…in the beginning….in high school. But you two didn’t belong together in college, and it’s amazing to me that this didn’t happen sooner. But it’s been months, it’s time to forget that cheating dog and move on.”

  “I thought he was my future, though.” Maisie knew she sounded whiney but she couldn’t help it. After being together for so many years, so many critical years, she thought they were going to be together for the long haul.

  Clearly, he had other ideas on that.

  When she’d gotten the text from one of his friends at school, a picture of some girl sitting on his lap, her arms around his neck and his lips on hers, she could see that Maisie was the farthest thing from his mind.

  “We’re just too young to be settled down. We should have taken our space before to let ourselves grow. But we grew apart and I’ll always love you, but I need my space now.”

  That was it, his whole excuse. No apology, no begging for forgiveness. Nothing. He hung up the phone and she hadn’t heard from him again, that had been months ago.

  Claire opened a bottle of white wine and poured two chilled glasses of it. “Well, your future is far brighter than that guy. Any guy that doesn’t even feel bad for breaking your heart and doesn’t care what type of pond scum he is isn’t worth another tear.”

  Maisie knew she was right, of course she was. Memories were great, but they were in the past. The only thing that mattered was what was in store for her future. On impulse, Maisie picked up her glass and went back into her bedroom and searched for any last piece of Ben around her room. When she was satisfied that there was nothing left, she tightly pulled the drawstring, tying off the bag, and marched it to the building’s garbage shoot. Without another thought, she chucked the bag in and closed the door behind her. Satisfied with herself, she took a long gulp of her wine.

  With new confidence and new resolve, maybe from the strength of finally throwing his things away, maybe from the alcohol, she waltzed back into her apartment where Claire was waiting with a smirk on her face.

  “So,” Maisie started. “What’s the next step?”

  Giddy with excitement, and also probably the booze, Claire ran and grabbed Maisie’s laptop. “Next, we get you back out into the dating world. It’s time for bars and clubs and the best way to meet tons of guys in the digital age, an online dating profile.”

  Maisie filled both of their glasses again and rolled her eyes. “Right, like I’m going to find a relationship on a dating website.”

  Claire booted up the computer. “Who said anything about a relationship? I said dating. That’s not the same thing.” She gave her friend a wicked grin and started to type away.

  Maisie had to hand it to her friend. If there was anyone who knew how to play the dating game, it was Claire. She was the expert in the area and after years of being in what Maisie had thought was a committed relationship, Maisie definitely was not.

  “Alright, I’ll play along,” she caved. “Let’s do this.”

  The rest of the night the girls giggled and drank wine, pouring themselves into giving Maisie the best profile anyone could come up with. Already Maisie could feel the weight of pain lifting from her chest. Who knew, maybe being single could be fun after all.

  3

  All night, after Easton came home from his father’s house, he thought about the responsibility his father had given him. It wasn’t a choice, the job to get the information from Cindy about her ex-husband, it was Easton’s job whether he wanted it or not. But how was he supposed to do that? According to his father she seemed easily spooked, so it wasn’t as if he could simply knock on the door and ask her questions. He’d have to find a smoother approach.

  But what would it be? He had plenty of resources at his disposal. His father’s underlings which were, in turn, his underlings, that could track her, find out where she goes and who she associates with. But that wouldn’t get him any direct information. He had to get straight to the source. Grabbing a beer from the fridge, Easton went over to his leather couch and stared out the window at the drizzling, grey afternoon. He liked his house, worn wooden floors, bookshelves that were built right into the walls, it was an older home and he hadn’t had the heart to destroy any of the craftsmanship to update any of it. Much to his father’s dismay. Bring a psychiatrist in there and she would probably tell him that he had chosen a home like that because it matched the décor of his father’s office, a symbol of success. It didn’t much matter why he chose his home, the fact was it was his retreat from the tension filled world he lived in.

  It wasn’t exactly as if he lived in a small town and worked in the mafia. His family worked a whole city, but one on the smaller side, one where eventually you did have only one or two degrees of separation between everyone. But it was a large enough city, and his father ran most of it, but he still had to be careful what he said or did or what people knew. The jail wasn’t exactly somewhere he wanted to be, which was why he loved his retreat to the comfort of his home.

  Easton thought about what he knew about Cindy, which wasn’t much. She was thirty-five, rather spoiled by her ex-husband, and newly single. She was scorned, but not someone who was going to take that lightly. From what Easton knew she was already out on the dating scene. A thought dawned on him. Where did many newly single people go when they were looking for dates? Looking to move on?

  Online dating.

  He snagged his laptop from his coffee table and opened the internet icon. Cindy Spano, he typed in the browser. Many things came up but very little social media. If she was doing online dating she would, of course, be using her maiden name. Cindy Springs, he typed next. Several hits came up with accounts, none that were online dating, but yet….he still had a hunch that he could find her. So one by one he joined different dating sites, using the same fake profile for each, typing in Cindy Springs, knowing now that’s what she was going by. Finally, he got a hit.

  Easton scanned her profile, nothing very exciting, and nothing to give away much about who she was. In fact, if you didn’t know her, you would have no idea that she had once been married to a very high profile politician. She seemed like any other woman on there, maybe a little more high maintenance based off of the pictures she chose to use in her designer clothes and ball gowns. But that didn’t seem so odd, it just looked as if she was looking for the right kind of man to fulfill that for her.

  There was only so much he was going to be able to get out of profile information and knew that if he was going to get anywhere, he was goi
ng to have to message her, with his fake profile, and start talking to her. He had no idea how long it would take before her defenses fell and she would open up to an online suitor, he supposed it depended on how desperate and lonely she was feeling. Not like he liked preying on a woman who was desperate and lonely, but it was all part of the job. No one could be spared when his father needed him to do something.

  Typing up a generic message about her profile picture and how pretty she was, that her information seemed interesting and that he’d like to get to know her, he hit the send button and sat back and waited. What else did he really have to do? Easton worked his way through the TV channels, wondering how long it would be before Cindy reached out to him when he heard a little chime go off on his computer. Fully expecting it to be Cindy and getting ready for what his next message should be, Easton grabbed his computer and clicked on the message icon.

  It said he had a new love note. How cheesy, he thought, but he opened it anyway. The little profile icon though wasn’t Cindy, it was someone else.