J.J. swallowed, finally seeing how deep and hot was the water he stood in. “Like I said, boss, it’s only been a couple days we understood the scope. We wanted to have good intel. That’s why we have this guy.”
“You think a bagman’s going to know who’s holding the strings? J.J., what the fuck? And you’re three blocks from his turf. It’s like you’re trying to fuck this up.”
J.J.’s face went red—with rage, not with shame. Over long years of this kind of work, Nick had learned there was a difference in the way blood suffused the face, depending on the emotion that impelled it. Regardless of the color of skin over it, the color of red was different. Rage had a blue undertone. Shame was more orange. Pain had a grey cast. J.J. was furious—and impotent, which was a dangerous combination. Nick had pushed too hard.
He backed off. “Okay. Make what you can of him, then. Use him to hone your skill. Maybe he’s got something good after all. Something that will get you to your guy.”
“You gonna let me handle it?” It was a demand J.J. made, a dare. Not a request.
Nick met it without a word, his eyes locked on J.J.’s. After a couple of seconds, J.J. lost some of that bluish red tone and turned to the man tied to a chair.
When he walked away, Brian stepped to Nick’s side. “Can I speak plainly, boss?”
“You know you can, Bri. You don’t need to ask.”
Brian nodded his appreciation of that. They were friends before they were associates. “This is over these guys’ heads. He’s gonna kill this mook before he gets anything out of him. And I think this is bigger than they know.”
Nick watched J.J. try to slap his guy back to consciousness. He was getting nowhere. At Nick’s feet was a kit he’d put together over the course of his career. Tools of his trade. A weak suck like this guy, he’d have not only awake but giving up his own kids within ten minutes. And then, if he so chose, he’d leave him intact to go home to those kids knowing to mind his business and his manners.
“Keep talking.”
“What if this is Church? Paying our notes—that’s a huge outlay up front. Even if he doubles the vig—which would collapse business under its own weight—it’s a bad investment, unless it’s a step toward a bigger goal. Somebody big enough to drop that much cash at once, and somebody who’s looking to take us down. That enemies list has one name on it. We don’t need this poor sap. We know who’s got his strings.”
Nick turned to his friend. He was right. “J.J.”
Watching his guys try to rouse his subject, J.J. didn’t hear him. Nick raised his voice. “J.J.”
He held up his hand to stop his men and then turned. “Yeah?”
“End him. Make him a message.”
If J.J. balked, Nick would handle this shit himself, right in front of J.J.’s crew. He didn’t give a fuck. This entitled halfwit had been made a capo. A capo! Nick decided at that moment that he would handle more than this shit if J.J. didn’t get his ass straight, and fast. He would not let his uncle, his family, be brought down over a promotion made for the wrong fucking reasons.
Ben had lost his edge.
J.J. didn’t balk. He blinked, and then he nodded and turned to one of his guys. “Picker. End him. Then let’s get to work.”
Deciding to be satisfied that J.J. could handle the rest, and would know which message to send and how, he put his hand on Brian’s arm and nodded toward the front door. Before they left, Jimmy in the lead, Nick turned back to J.J. “Bring the don his remembrance. This is on the books.”
Again, J.J. nodded.
When they were in the SUV again, Nick looked over the seat at Brian. “Call the guys. We’re going to Neon tonight. I need to talk to Jake.”
~oOo~
‘The guys’ were Chi-Chi Rinaldi and Matty Ferro. With Brian, they’d made up the heart of Nick’s crew for a decade. They were still working with him; he had them on Church detail, which was Nick’s special project. And now the capos’ trouble looked to be part of his big picture.
The four of them rode together in Nick’s Navigator, with Jimmy, as ever, behind the wheel. Neon was one of the hottest nightclubs in Providence; the Pagano Brothers owned a forty-percent share of the club and sixty percent of the escort business it fronted. Jake Chambers managed both and had his own substantial minority shares. He’d been a mover in the nightclub and escort businesses for more than thirty years and affiliated with the Paganos for most of that time.
Because Alvin Church also owned a nightclub—The Pink Hole, popular in its own way, with a different clientele, but otherwise similar to Neon—Jake bumped up against Church associates on a regular basis. And the escort service had a lot of client overlap with the shylocks; a man with one vice tended to have many, and that tended to be expensive. Jake was smart and perceptive; he’d know if there was something shaking underground.
Neon was a good place to conduct business. Loud and dark, with deep, plush booths for privacy, and with heavy, live-monitored, unrecorded security and daily bug sweeps, it was one of the most secure places the Paganos had to talk openly. Nick, though not a fan of the music, if that was what it could be called, preferred the club for business. And the women were fine and plentiful.
Jake came over within minutes of their taking their reserved booth, before their drinks arrived. Nick accepted his greeting of respect and then waved him off. It was better to put business off, look like they were there to party, in the event that snoops or competitors were mingling with the club revelers.
With these guys, though, it was easy to look like they were there to party. Chi-Chi and Matty, ten years younger than Nick and Brian, were always good to party, and they had a running competition between them for the most and best pussy. As soon as Nick nodded, they took off on the prowl.
Brian sat back and scanned the dancers. Nick drank his scotch and turn his sight inward, thinking through what he’d learned this afternoon and what he wanted to get from Jake. Then Brian whistled, the sound splitting the pulse of the house music.
Nick looked over, and Brian leaned in. “You see that guy? He’s almost as big as Jimmy. I thought he was security at first, but he’s out there dancing. Which is a sight in itself.”
Curious, Nick followed Brian’s finger and saw a big guy with long, blond hair dancing with a tiny twig of a girl with dark hair and a full sleeve of ink. Yeah, the guy was definitely big. He nodded.
“I’m thinking we should get his details and check him out. We need to backfill security.”
His mind on bigger things, Nick made a noncommittal gesture. “Sure. Talk to him. Watch yourself.”
Brian slid out of the booth and headed to the dance floor just as the guy in question and his little slip of a chick headed toward the bar. Nick watched Brian follow him and make contact. And then he saw that the big blond and his tattooed lady had another companion. Beverly. Her sofa-moving friend was there, too, but Nick kept his eyes on her.
She wore a short, black dress that hugged her curves—she really did wear her clothes spectacularly well. The dress had a turtleneck but was sleeveless and somehow shoulder-less, too. Though only her arms and shoulders were bare, the effect was potent and alluring. Her dark hair was pulled back and, when she turned away, he saw that it was coiled into some kind of twist. She was pure class, substance in a sea of flash.
He finished his scotch as Brian brought the big guy and his friends toward the booth.
~ 4 ~
As head of security, Chris’s friend, Thomas, wasn’t on the door when Bev, Chris, Skylar, and Romeo walked up to the front. A long line of people dressed in fabulous clothes was already assembled. Getting into Neon was like an audition—only the prettiest and coolest made the cut. Unless they were on the list.
With his hand on Bev’s elbow, Chris led the group past the line and straight to the door. A huge black guy in a blue suit and black t-shirt gave their little group an appraising look, head to toe, and came back unimpressed.
Chris smiled. “I’m a friend of Thomas’s
. We’re on the list. Chris Mills.”
The bouncer lifted his phone and scrolled the screen. He looked up, appraised them again, and nodded. “Enjoy.” He gestured to Romeo. “You in security?”
Romeo, gigantic and blond, like a Viking on steroids, grinned a little shyly. “No, man. I work in a warehouse.”
The bouncer laughed. “If you’re interested, talk to Thomas. Tell him Roland sent you back.”
Romeo nodded, and Bev and Sky grinned at each other. Romeo was huge and strong, but he was a lot more likely to cuddle kittens than bounce drunks. He was soft-spoken, sweet, and shy. Bev had never known him to even raise his voice.
They went in, and Bev felt immediately assailed by sound and light. The music, electronica with a driving beat, was ear-splittingly loud, and the huge room exploded with colorful light. True to its name, Neon was full of neon lights—striping and swirling on every wall, filling the vast, glass or Lucite center bar, coiling up the support beams. Otherwise, the setup was like most other clubs she’d been to—the long side walls dominated by elaborate booth seating, tall enough for privacy, the center space arrayed with two-top tables, a roomy dance floor, currently full of gyrating bodies, ringed with lighted railing and canopied by twisting dance lights. Behind the bar, on a raised platform, was the D.J. cage.
Tonight was her first time here. Bev loved to dance, but she didn’t like the sense of auditioning that was so much a part of the club scene. From the line out front, to the men scoping women out and deciding who was worthy of their attention, Bev usually felt more insecure in a place like this than anywhere else. She hadn’t had a real date in more than a year, but she wasn’t interested in finding one at a place like this.
She was only here because she’d convinced Chris to exploit his connections and then invite Romeo and Skylar with them. Among friends, she could enjoy herself. And she’d had an excuse to buy a sexy dress and do herself up.
Chris was clearly miserable, and Romeo didn’t look much happier, but Bev and Sky worked on getting the guys buzzed and happy and then dragged them out on the dance floor. Neither could dance for shit, they simply shuffled their feet and bopped up and down a little, but all either woman needed was a man to dance around, so Bev and Sky danced between Chris and Romeo, mostly with each other. It was awesome.
For a long time, it was too loud to do much talking, so when Chris had had his fill of ‘dancing,’ he grabbed Bev’s arm, and, only a little disappointed, she followed him to the bar. Chris shouted an order at the bartender for another beer for himself and a vodka tonic for her.
As they waited for their drinks, Chris leaned in and shouted at her, “You seriously like this, don’t you?”
About halfway through his sentence, the music went into a transition and pitched way down, so his voice rang out much more loudly than either of them had expected. He looked shocked and embarrassed, and Bev laughed.
“Yeah, I do. Everybody is all dressed up, and I like to dance. It’s a little bit like a fairy tale ball, when you think about it.”
Chris nodded toward the end of the bar, where a guy in a slim-cut suit had his tongue deep in a woman’s mouth and a hand deep in the top of her sequined dress. Her hand had a strong hold on his crotch. “I remember fairy tales differently.”
“Okay, well. Still. Sparkly!”
Sky and Romeo came back to them just then, but before they could order, some guy tapped Romeo on the shoulder. A lot shorter than Romeo, maybe five-nine or so, with shoulder-length, wavy dark hair and hawkish features, the guy made Bev a little nervous. She also thought he looked a little familiar, but she couldn’t place him at all.
Though the music was currently a bit less loud, Bev still couldn’t hear what was being said between the guy, who had his back to her, and Romeo, so she watched Skylar for clues. She looked interested, if a little suspicious. Romeo shook his head, an affable, apologetic smile on his face. Then the guy pointed over toward the booths. Bev looked in that direction, but she didn’t see much. The booths were all cloaked in shadow, with only small globes on the tables for lighting.
The guy kept talking, and finally Romeo looked at Skylar, who looked up at him and then shrugged. And then they were following the guy toward the booth he’d indicated. When Sky waved at Chris and Bev to follow, they did.
Sitting almost in the center of that booth was Nick Pagano. And he was looking directly at her.
She’d gone to bed early the night before feeling embarrassed and stupid, after he’d basically thrown her out of his apartment. She hated that feeling more than anything; she’d lived enough of her life feeling like she wasn’t good enough, and those days were behind her once and for all. But she’d put herself out on a limb last night. Chris had been right; she hadn’t been subtle at all. And the guy had a girlfriend. Her bad feelings at bedtime were no one’s fault but her own.
Chris was right about something else, too. It was good that Nick wasn’t available to her. She’d had her share of bad boy experiences, and they had all gone…badly. The last one had gone so badly, she’d moved out of Boston, left her job, and her whole life, and was now living in a little seaside burg. She hadn’t gone far, but hopefully she’d gone far enough.
Nick was a bad boy. Even if she hadn’t known who the Paganos were, it was clear he was a bad boy. He hardly ever smiled. He had the guy version of Resting Bitch Face—which was maybe Resting Badass Face. He was bad news, just like Chris had said.
And, again—girlfriend. Tall and blonde. Nothing like her five-foot-six inch, size ten self. She was not his type.
But he was so unbelievably hot it wasn’t even fair. Those green eyes. That square jaw and chin, sometimes with a groomed scruff, sometimes clean-shaven, always sexy. The black hair with just a sprinkle of grey at his temples. That freaking amazing body. He was perfect. And then, last night, he had smiled at her. More than once. His face had transformed, opened up. And he’d teased her, been friendly and gentle. All the way up until he’d dismissed her, she’d enjoyed talking with him.
He was the worst kind of bad boy, then. The kind who was just good enough to get the hook in really deep, before the bad ripped it out and left a nasty scar.
But Bev thought she might be hooked already. And now he was staring right at her, just a hint of a smile lifting one side of his mouth—as if the smile were for her only.
Which was stupid, fairy-tale thinking and would lead straight to her doom.
Unless she could maybe bang him. Just once. Just to get her hands on him naked. She wondered if she could keep her stupid, excitable heart from losing its shit if she just banged him one time. If that were even possible. Last night, briefly, she’d thought it was.
Finally, Nick’s eyes shifted from hers, and he gestured at the seats. Everybody shuffled into the booth, and Bev didn’t miss the way Chris maneuvered himself to sit between her and Nick. In fact, she ended up on the outside edge of one side.
The booth walls blocked quite a bit of the sound, surprisingly, so conversation was possible. It turned out that Nick and his friend—whose name was Brian—were interested in talking to Romeo about working security for them. For the Paganos. That was twice at this club, on one night, that he’d been hit up, out of the blue, to work as a professional badass. Bev wondered if that happened to him a lot.
He was still smiling and shaking his head, though. He wasn’t interested. Nick let his friend Brian do most of the talking, but Bev noticed that his attention was fully on the blond, as if he was getting answers to questions that weren’t even being asked.
Finally, Brian leaned back with a shrug, and Nick extended his hand to Romeo. “Understood. If you change your mind, talk to Thomas here at the club. Or Jake.” He turned to the others. “Stay and have a drink.”
Chris spoke up, “Thanks, but we had kind of a night planned.” He turned and tried to shift Bev out of the booth. She could have punched him. He was insistent, though, and Skylar and Romeo were moving, too, so she got to her feet and smoothed her dress over he
r ass as gracefully as she could.
She looked up and saw Nick watching her hands on her ass. When his eyes lifted to hers again, she saw interest there. As she had last night, before he sent her on her way, she saw that she appealed to him. She didn’t look away. Even as Chris came to his feet and moved her a step to the side, she held Nick’s gaze. She smiled, and he smiled back. That was a hell of a smile he had. It was a shame he didn’t use it more.
And then Chris was pulling her away from the dark seclusion of Nick’s booth, out into the loud heat of the club. He didn’t let go of her until they were in the middle of the dance floor. She pulled her arm from his grasp.
“That was rude,” she yelled into his ear.
“Sorry—that was just weird. Didn’t you think it was weird?” He yelled back.
Bev looked over and saw Romeo and Skylar dancing, sort of. Romeo had picked her up, and he was rocking back and forth while they talked. Bev wanted what they had. Romeo just loved her friend; it was written all over his face. He was a big, apparently intimidating monster of a man, but he was a genuinely good guy, and for his girl, he was a cupcake. And Sky was just the same; they gave each other exactly what they needed. Sky had much better taste in men than Bev. All Bev had ever gotten from a man was hurt.
Deep (The Pagano Family Book 4) Page 5
