Son of a Mobster (Criminal Desires)

by Jennie Lyne Hiott

  “That’s not how I do things,” I spat.

  He took my arm to stop me from retrieving my jewel. “You need to do whatever it takes to put Gianetti in jail so we can both move on with our careers.”

  “I’m not doing that.”

  “I heard you were smart. I think somebody lied.” Jackson’s comment warranted yet another scowl. “Gianetti’s crushing on you. You can swoop in for the kill. You’re blind if you don’t see it.”

  “It’s not fair to him.” I moved to the couch and sunk into it. It was a surprising relief to have someone to discuss the case with, although I had never imagined I would confide in Jackson Callaway. “What you’re suggesting is cruel. No one deserves to have their heart toyed with, no matter what they have done.”

  “You might have to be a real bitch to push Gianetti away. And at the same time, you can’t be too hateful. He could fire you and we can’t afford this gig to end too soon. Not if we want Harkins to hold up his end of the deal.” Which meant giving us both permanent positions in the Bureau.

  “So, what’s your next move?” I reclaimed my wired necklace.

  “You’ll see – I got a plan – just waiting for the perfect time. So, for the time being, I’m going to lay low and throw out some singles to the dancers.”

  “That really sucks for you.” I rolled my eyes.

  “I’m not into that crap,” Jackson corrected. “I prefer a little more mystery.” My shocked expression brought another grin. “I told you, there’s a lot more to people than what you see.”

  “I’m sorry, Jackson. I did judge you, but you don’t paint a great first impression.”

  “First impressions are overrated.” He snatched my laptop from the worn coffee table. “You better type out something for Harkins to gnaw at.”

  “I doubt what I know at this point would give him a hard on. It was Jackson’s turn to raise his eyebrow, apparently, I was not the only one who had made assumptions. “Except … I’m pretty sure I know who Gianetti’s informant is.”

  Jackson flung his arm behind me, draping it over the back of the sofa and cleared his throat. “Really?”

  “It’s Marcy.”

  “Red?”

  “I’ve seen her with Sean four times and they appeared to be very well acquainted.”

  “Do I hear jealousy, Cupcake?” He teased and I scowled. “Well, you better put on your poker face, Babe. You have to see her later.”

  Once a month I was forced to meet Marcy in an inconspicuous location. It wasn’t the most convenient way to transfer information, but it had been at my own insistence. If I’d thought for minute they’d send Marcy, I would have changed my mind.

  “I wonder how much information she’s passed along to Sean.”

  “Marcy’s not the mole. If she was, you wouldn’t be sitting here, Babe.”

  “Why not? Sean’s smart. Maybe he’s doing all this flirting to set me up.”

  “You looked pretty good on that stage tonight.” Jackson changed the subject.

  “I didn’t know you were watching.”

  “I told you, I’m always close. I’m going to take a nap.”

  “Here?”

  “You should do the same,” he commanded and offended me by the way he took control. “You slept what? Three hours? You’re on the night shift now.”

  “Get out!”

  Instead, he laid back on my sofa, crossed his arms over his chest and bowed his chin to his neck.

  I growled and stomped into the bedroom. Even though I was tired, I purposely forced myself to stay alert, but that left no escape. I eyed the novel sitting on my night stand, yawned and snatched the book. Stressful thoughts made my head throb and I wanted to immerse myself in someone else’s peril for a time.

  I let myself get lost in the story, so lost that I had forgotten not only where I was, but the time as well. It ticked by swiftly and I felt as though the clock had skipped ahead with only a blink of my eyes, leaving me barely twenty minutes to dress and arrive at De’Bris and it was an insufficient amount when dozens of pairs of eyes would be glued to my every movement.

  TWENTY-ONE

  (Sean)

  I HOISTED A HEAVY CASE of beer and set it on the counter. Stocking the coolers behind the bar was a great workout and an even better time killer. There was still a half hour before Jessie would arrive and I was sure I was winning the war for her heart.

  My life was starting to feel normal and I felt I had taken steps to secure that kind of life. There was just one lose end – Stephen McClure. The last head I’d have to hunt to ensure that my past stayed in the past.

  “You’re not supplying anymore?” A gruff voice barked.

  “That’s right.” I picked up another heavy box and threw it on the counter. “It’s nothing personal, just business. I’m going legit.” I’d never been the sneaky type, but I felt I had no other options.

  “Are you trying to piss me off?” Hunter Bolivar growled.

  “Nope.”

  “I know it’s you, Sean.” Hunter scowled.

  I still wasn’t going to let his family terrorize Demora. I’d sent my people to literally blow up every warehouse they tried to open on their own and I thwarted every shake down they attempted on the local businesses.

  “You know the way out.”

  Instead the old man stepped behind the counter.

  “Take a walk with me.” He took a step closer, and jammed a gun in my rib, taking care to keep it concealed by the coat he wore draped about his shoulders. “You disappointment me, Sean.”

  Hunter escorted me outside without a scene. My eyes met Matt’s and I shook my head slightly, silently ordering him not to follow, protecting him and his brother from sharing in my fate.

  The extremely cold night air stung my lungs as soon as I breathed it in and no one walked the sidewalks. On the curb, a black limousine waited and I was sure we were going on a ride that I would return from.

  “Stop.”

  I turned around and faced my captor and was hit with an unexpected hard blow to the gut that sent me to my knees. Hunter knelt, grasped my chin and brutally forced my head up. “You’ve got a lot of nerve refusing to work for me.” Then, he snapped his fingers.

  Out of the car, a small army stepped out and circled me. I forced myself to my feet. Four men slapped metal rods against their palms. I assumed at least two more sets of eyes were glued to me and one of them probably had a bullet with my name etched on it.

  “Karma’s a bitch isn’t she, Gianetti?” Carl Bolivar sneered and delivered the first strike, taking out a knee. “Think real hard, Sean. Our families’ past is ancient history. I think it would be in your best interest to let it go – before I take away something you really don’t want to lose.” Hunter again extended his offer while I regained my footing. My every effort agonizing, but my stare – defiant. “No?” and with only a nod, he walked away and slid into the backseat of the waiting vehicle. The door closed and he pulled away, leaving behind his thugs to do his bidding.

  Without fear, I faced my punishment, outnumbered and knowing better than to reach for my cell or my gun. Even as they closed in, I stood firm and prepared to defend myself.

  One on one, I could stand my ground, but they didn’t plan to give me that chance. In unison, they struck and I fought hard to remain on my feet, but fell despite my efforts. I knew what was next. I had used the same tactic myself on many occasions. The fight would not be over until I barely drew a breath – if I was lucky.

  I took every hit, every kick and I lashed out, delivering damaging punches, refusing to be an easy target. The war seemed to go on forever and I wasn’t getting close to winning. I was wore out. Laying in a heap. Waiting for the blow that would finally end my suffering.

  Then, I felt my attackers lifted away. It was too dark to see, but after they had retreated, I saw the man who had come to my aid standing in the shadows. I nodded my thanks and the phantom raised a fist to his heart, gave it a light pound, then disappeared into the dark
ness. I held my aching ribs and smiled. The man had come to my defense before, but he was no stranger. He was my brother.

  I inspected the scene. A man still laid stunned by his injuries and I kept an eye on him as I struggled to my knees.

  “Sean?”

  No. Jessie had to be the one to approach the building and find me beaten and soaked in my own blood. One of the assailants stirred. Jessie touched my back, attempting to help and I felt fear, not for myself, but for her.

  “Go away,” I whispered. Weakly, I swatted her hand away and crawled toward the club’s exterior wall. I pulled myself into a sitting position and leaned my back against it.

  Jessie remained, fussing over my wounds.

  The henchman moaned and turned to his back.

  “Go! I hatefully spat. “Stay away from me, Jessie!”

  She backed away, hurt reflecting in her gorgeous eyes.

  “Get the hell away from me!”

  She retreated. Walking swiftly away from me.

  I let my body fall sideways. Relinquished my battle and covered my face.

  ~ ♥ ~

  “Oh no.” The diner lady spat the moment she saw me enter her business. “Bob! Hide bathroom key!”

  I managed a chuckle as I held my ribs and slouched into a booth.

  “You use door first try.” She slapped a menu. “You look like shit.” I think she tried to compliment my battered appearance. “Don’t drip on floor. Need this place look good when bank take it.”

  “Nah, I can’t have that.” I patted my split lip with the cloth she gave me. The woman made me laugh and I kind of liked the food. “No one’s going to take your diner, I promise.”

  “What? You hero now?” she pulled her glasses to the edge of her nose. “You not hero – you mob. I get you coffee.”

  But I needed something stronger. I ached in places I couldn’t even talk about, but the literal pain that shot through my chest hurt the most. I took a flask out of my inside pocket, I tipped it up and sucked down the liquor like I was nursing a baby bottle until it was snatched from my possession.

  “You drink coffee.” The diner lady spat. “This no place for drunk bum.” She tossed the flask away, ringing a trash can behind the counter. “You stay sober. You see sign to leave.”

  She was never going to let me forget the first time I’d stumbled through her door. I was a regular patron after that night and every time she talked to me the same way.

  But deep down, I think the woman liked me. She served me breakfast even though it was well past breakfast time that night.

  “You eat soft food.” She gently tugged my ponytail. “And get haircut.”

  She kept her eye on me while I ate. I couldn’t eat much. I was weak and I probably shouldn’t have ventured away from De’Bris, but I couldn’t be there. Not after what I’d done to Jessie. I didn’t want to risk her approaching me again, fearing that Bolivar had goons lurking about.

  “You no smile today.” The diner lady sat across from me in the booth and sipped a cup of black coffee. “You been happy. What happen?”

  “Life.” I sighed. “Just life.”

  “No. Not life. Girl.”

  “It didn’t work out.” I admitted.

  A familiar car drove past and I closed my eyes. I didn’t have the strength to defend myself again and I was sitting right in front of the window.

  “You come,” she ordered.

  I didn’t comprehend and stared with a blank expression.

  “No stare stupid. Follow,” she barked.

  Gingerly, I did as she asked and followed her up a narrow stairwell to the top floor.

  “Couch. Remote. Blanket.” She pointed at the only things in the room. “You no use door. You no use window. You heal here.”

  I was there for a week. In and out of consciousness. I didn’t contact anyone and I know the Divani’s were going out of their minds searching for me, but I was weaker than I had ever been in my life. I wasn’t sure if I could blame it all on Bolivar’s attack. I think I was a bit depressed as well. I didn’t want to chase Jessie out of my life and I had.

  The diner lady brought me some kind of weird soup every day. It tasted horrible but she made me drink every drop until the day she jabbed me with a broom.

  “You leave now,” she spat.

  Literally, she gave me the shove I needed to go on with my life.

  TWENTY-TWO

  (Jessie)

  I HUGGED THE LUMP BESIDE me. I had missed having someone lying beside me in the bed, but surprisingly I didn’t miss spending the day with Josh and it was nice not to have to hurry to fill his hungry belly’s impatient demands each morning.

  Marcy had more than Harkins orders to report each time I met her. My love for Josh torn between the sweet guy he had once been and the lying, cheating jerk he had become in my absence, but soon the lie would be over and I would have to return to the chaos and sift through the shattered remains of my life rather I wanted to or not.

  The man beside me moaned and shifted to his back. His hand rubbed the sleep from his eyes before he opened them.

  “You’re still here?” He spoke softly.

  “You crash at my place so often I figured you owed me one.”

  “You don’t look half bad in the morning, Cicconi.” He grabbed his beeping phone. “Harkins is pissed.” Jackson spoke with no emotion, rose and pulled his shirt over a muscular frame.

  I snatched my necklace from the nightstand and moved from the unfamiliar bed that had left me feeling like I had slept on stones.

  “You knew it wasn’t the Grand, Cupcake,” he addressed the way I rubbed my back.

  The night before I had wanted to hide from the spies that watched and listened to my every move. Sean had been missing since I’d found him in the street and he’d been distance since his return. But that still didn’t keep Harkins from insisting I use my feminine charms on him.

  Jackson’s place was barely more than a one room shack. A metal tin can parked in a rarely visited campground, but he didn’t seem shocked when he found me standing at his door the night before.

  “I’m starting to think alcoholism is a contagious the way you keep downing shots at the club. What’s up with you?”

  “It’s my job to blend in and I’m blending,” I argued with outstretched arms and a hangover.

  “You have a phone call to make.” He threw my purse and it landed hard in my grasp. “The booth outside the consignment shop. You might want to hurry.”

  “I have to be at De’Bris in less than an hour. My employment there is nearly non-existent already. I can’t be late.” With Sean staying in his office every night, I was at the mercy Spencer, who made it clear that he was going to get rid of me one way or the other.

  “Your job is nonexistent and soon so are you. At least you will be where Gianetti is concerned.”

  I must have looked like a crazy woman the way I stomped in front of the phone, checking my watch and seeing time slip away. Finally, it rang and I slammed the folding doors shut.

  “I expected more from you agent,” Harkins criticized. “You are only hanging on to your job at De’Bris by a thin string. How hard can it be to bat your eyelashes and show a little skin?”

  “I’m not going to date Gianetti,” I growled through clenched teeth. “I’m doing exactly what you sent me to do and not a thing more. I expect you to hold up your end of the bargain.”

  “You keep running your mouth and you will find yourself coming back to tracking down family pets for that old private eye again.” I could hear his heavy breathing, only caring about himself and the praise the director would heap on him if he successfully brought down the drug ring. “I want Gianetti’s head mounted on my wall! You will return to De’Bris and do exactly what I told you to do or the deal is off.”

  “And just how am I supposed to do that? He’s not even talking to me anymore.”

  “Get his attention. I want you on his arm, I want you in his home and I don’t care how you do it or the deal
is off.”

  “Then I guess I’m coming home,” I spat.

  “Fine – one month. You got one month to pinpoint Bolivar, but that’s it.”

  That night I waited on tables without a smile and with only necessary conversation. The vein in my temple constantly throbbed, a headache caused by stress, depression, and loneliness. I questioned my professional ability. My objective should have been completed months before, but almost a year later, I still couldn’t obtain something as simple as a name.

  By the time I performed my last dance of yet another uneventful night the crowd had dwindled, leaving mostly employees and a few passed out stragglers.

  The dance became easier because I was doing it for myself. I found the love I had once had for the dance, the joy it had brought into my soul. Music had once had a special place in my heart and it was again revived. Suddenly, I realized how much I had let die. How much I had shut out. I had suppressed more than plans for my future. I had squelched the small joys as well.

  I danced through my emotions even after the song had ended prompting Devo to let the disc play on. Beads of sweat dripped, but I continued needing the exercise, the rush to work through my thoughts. I would run, jump, twirl and pirouette until I collapsed if I had to.

  So much I had given of myself. So much it was unfair and I knew I would continue pleasing the wishes of my dead parents, even though it was choking me, squeezing my soul and cloaking me in darkness.

  It was the worst moment to understand. The worst possible time to break free and it hurt. It ached so much that the only people I could be myself around were people I was expected to despise. Devo, Tina, and the bouncers enjoyed my spirit and it had once made Sean smile while the ones I cared for the most had detested it.

  I still wore Josh’s ring, but I no longer saw myself marrying him. His prolonged absence made it hard for me to remember anything but the bad times. Sean was partly to blame for that. I couldn’t be with him, but I knew I wanted to be treated that way by someone.

  I dared to open my eyes. Most of the candles had been extinguished. Only the ones along the bar and a table where Grato, Matt, and Devo sat playing cards remained lit. They glanced at me from time to time, but no one seemed to want me to leave, including Spencer who was content counting the money in the till.