Stroke: A Bad Boy Romance

by Gabby Grace

  “Relax, Ricci. I’m fucking with you, man.

  His face softens, then continues on. “So tell me bro, what happened down there?”

  “I’ll fill everyone in when we get back to the house. I’m only going to tell it once.”

  He looks from the road to me. “That’s it? Down and back in a day and you’re not going to give me anything?”

  “No.

  “You’re a cruel man, Vito.”

  “Don’t I know it? So tell me about Mira. What are you two up to?” I’m turning the radio dial, trying to find something. I settle on the sports scores on WFAN. Rangers beat the Flyers 4-3 at the Garden. I need to see a game sooner rather than later.

  “Fucking, hanging out. More fucking, more hanging out.”

  “They call that the honeymoon phase of a relationship. Am I right, Ricci?”

  He merges onto the Van Wyck Expressway. “I think you’re right, buddy.”

  “What happens when the honeymoon is over?”

  “I don’t fucking know. I guess the connection has to be strong enough to survive the rest of it.”

  “You guys gonna’ make it?”

  “Fuck, I sure hope so. I love her, man.”

  Yeah, I think I’m starting to understand what he means.

  ____

  Don Antolini has all the main people assembled in his office. Of course Ricci, Tony, and Joey Gentile are all here. We say our hellos and then get down to business.

  The Don – dressed in grayish slacks and a V-neck sweater – sits on the edge of his desk, one leg on the floor and the other hanging off the side, his hands crossed over his knee. “Bring everyone up to speed, Vito.”

  I’m seated in a corner in one of the red leather overstuffed chairs, so a few guys have to adjust their chairs to see and hear me.

  “I met with Lucenzo when I got there. He gave me a piece and a contact so that I could get access to the inside of this operation. It was a warehouse, down near the docks. My contact, Marco, this pudgy little fuck, met me at the side door and let me in. He gave me the layout and as much information as he could. After he left, I decided to get a good look around.”

  Joey Gentile, his glasses off now and in his hand, interrupts as he gestures by waving them around. “This Marco. Is he one of our guys?”

  “No. He works for the Tortelli’s, I’m guessing alongside Lucenzo. They’re like our sister family down in Miami. Am I right, Don Antolini?”

  The Don nods.

  Tony jumps in, his booming voice matching his large frame. “Can we trust him?”

  I’m annoyed by this, but answer anyhow. “I don’t fucking know, Tony. The guy let me in the side door and gave me the lay of the land.” I use my hands to gesture like Italians do. “He works there in shipping and receiving which is why he knew what he did. He was placed there by the Tortelli’s, so I guess we can trust him.”

  “Go on Vito.” Don Antolini moves his hand in a circular motion prodding me to continue.

  “Anyhow, shit went bad quick. I made a little too much noise and one of the guards came to investigate. I kicked his ass, and before I could interrogate him, he lost consciousness.”

  “He lost consciousness?” Ricci is amused.

  “I may have thrown a flying knee kick to his skull just prior to.” Ricci snickers. “Then his two buddies showed up and I took care of them, too, with an AK47 I took off of goon number one. It was a fucking mess.”

  Tony speaks up. “Was that it for the guards?”

  “Yeah. Next, I went up to the office and scrubbed it clean. I came up with two laptops.” I pull them out of my overnight bag that’s been resting next to my chair on the tweed carpet, and Joey Gentile comes over to take the Dell and the Samsung laptops from me. After handing them over, I continue.

  “Then I checked to make sure the heroin was there. I pulled a few comforters out of different crates, ripped the seams, and they had heroin in them. I assumed everything else in that warehouse was the same. I was facing clean-up of three bodies and blood fucking everywhere. Even if I could dump the bodies and clean up, the powers that be would have known they’d been discovered and infiltrated.”

  Don Antolini finishes my sentence. “They would have moved the goods and the operation somewhere else and been back in business within a matter of days.”

  I’m fucking relieved the Don sees it my way. “That’s the way I saw it, so I torched the place. Burned it to the fucking ground.”

  The Don stands and puts his fingers to his chin, rubbing the short stubble there briefly. “I need to think on this. Joey, you get on those computers right away. Ricci and Tony, you’re on standby, so don’t leave the house. I might need you both. Vito, nice work. Rest up, I’m definitely going to call on you before the day is out. You struck a big blow to the Sirico’s. Alright, everyone out. Vito, you stay with me.”

  Everyone filters out of the room, leaving Don Antolini and me in complete silence. Tony is last out, and he closes the door behind him. “I’m not going to lie to you, Vito. This puts me in a tough spot. If it wasn’t one before, this is an all-out war we’ve started with that family. There’s no question they’ll come after us hard.”

  Rubbing my palms together, I nod in agreement. “We need to be ready.”

  “You’re always ready, Vito. It’s why you’re still alive when so many of our family is dead. Get some rest.”

  ____

  The Don reserves one wing of the house for thugs like me for those times when he asks us to stay, and this is one of those times. I find Maria, the cook, in the kitchen, and she fixes me a plate of sandwiches.

  “Thanks, doll.”

  I love that woman. She’s old-school Italian and makes me wish my mom was more like her. “You’re all my boys… like my sons. Don’t worry, Maria will always take care of you.” Her eyes twinkle with her smile on that last thought.

  I sit on a stool at the kitchen island, a speckled brown, black and white granite countertop perched on some old wooden tan base that looks like it came out of an old home. Inhaling sandwiches like it’ll be my last meal on earth, I wash it down with some ice cold water soaking in ice cubes. I only grabbed some peanuts on the plane, and for a guy my size, that just didn’t cut it.

  I thank Maria with a warm hug before heading off up the stairs to the guest room in the north wing. I undress, the slight smell of smoke still lingering on my clothes even after a washing. I drape them over the back of a chair, sit on the edge of the bed in just my underwear, and think on things.

  What a clusterfuck. I killed three goons and took down a warehouse. That was plenty to cloud my mind, but even with all that, it’s not what’s dominating my thoughts. All I could think of on the plane ride back, and all that my mind will allow for me to think about now, is the image of Bella sleeping this morning, looking like a perfect angel in the morning light.

  I’d be lying if I said my thoughts weren’t stuck on burying my cock so deep in her sweet pussy that it would never again see the light of day. I could have fucked her all day. Shit, I should be fucking her right now.

  But business is business, and this is some serious shit going down right now. My head needs to be in the game, and I’m not talking about the large hooded one on the end of my cock.

  14

  Bella

  I can still smell Vito on me, even though it’s been almost eight hours since he left. I’ll shower when I can’t stand myself any more, but for now, I can still smell him in my hair and on my skin. I like it. No, I love it.

  There have been guys in my life before. Even men I was serious about. There was even one guy I almost married.

  His name was Tucker Collins, a wildly successful real estate mogul here in Miami. He dealt mostly in commercial properties that were turned into strip clubs, restaurants and bars. There was no shortage of these types of businesses in Miami, and he knew how to capitalize on it and maximize his profits.

  His company caters to not only
the locals, but to the mass amount of visitors that come from all over the world to see America’s greatest tropical city. They come for the beaches mostly, but when the sun goes down, they want their naked women, the best food money can buy, and plenty of booze.

  We dated for six months before he asked me to marry him. I said yes. Why wouldn’t I? He was good-looking, successful, and driven. One thing I knew deep down would never come from that marriage was deep love and respect for one another. Not the way we were going, and the love… it just wasn’t there.

  As we got closer to the wedding date, I got this feeling of dread like when something bad is about to happen. When I took a college literature class years ago, they had a name for it.

  Foreshadowing.

  I’m no expert on getting married, but shouldn’t a woman be getting more and more excited about taking that step in life and not feel like the world is going to end? I left him at the altar. Literally. My uncle was walking me up the aisle – my father passed a few years back – and I stopped and shook off his arm, turned around, and walked back out the door from which I came without a word to anyone.

  I never felt more free than when I walked out that door. I knew I owed him an apology, or at least an explanation, but he refused to see me, or even talk to me, after that.

  That was a year ago. There had been a few guys since then, but no one I was truly interested in. We had sex, went on a few dates, the usual, but no guy really struck me as the one.

  Now, just hours after Vito walked out my front door, I’ve never felt more alone. I can’t concentrate on anything. Every few minutes, I leave my back office, stare at the front door for a few seconds, then walk to the front window and peer out, hoping I’ll see his hot black car in the driveway, dark and mysterious like him. I envision his lean, muscular frame walking toward me, mesmerizing me with that dazzling smile and his full dimples, and oozing that confidence that makes him so damn sexy.

  Each time, though, I come back disappointed, knowing full well he’s back in New York and I’ll likely never see him again. It’s silly, I know, to get hung up on a guy I only met yesterday, but I can’t deny how I feel right now.

  Restless and alone.

  The phone rings and I jump, my heart skipping a beat as I look at the caller I.D. Teague. I usually look forward to his calls, but not today. It’s not Vito.

  “Hello, beautiful.”

  “Hi, Teague.”

  “What are you up to?”

  “Working on this opening.”

  “Have you seen the list?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s like an Italian family reunion.”

  “Let me get to my computer, hold on.”

  I wiggle the mouse to get out of sleep mode, pull up the list on my computer, and scan the list of names: Barese, Palermo, Manna, Vecoli, Sagese, Sirico, Opizzi, Longo, Giordano… The list goes on and on.

  “So what of it?”

  “You don’t think this is a mob run business, do you?” Teague sounds slightly concerned, more drama than anything, I think.

  “I don’t know. It’s a high-end gentleman’s club. Aren’t a lot of these types of places owned by the mob?”

  “It guess it makes sense. You can put them in the category of casinos.”

  I continue. “The guy I met with is heavily invested in casinos in Vegas. He’s Italian to the core, so maybe he has connections. It’s not really a concern of mine, though, Teague. We have a job to do. Let’s do it. How are the arrangements coming along?”

  “Good. Our centerpieces are being delivered on Friday, along with the giant cake. The press has been notified, all except for Mary Summer because she’s out of town. We could replace her with Jim Jaeger.”

  “Do it. Anything else?”

  “No. How’s everything going by you?”

  “Okay.”

  “Just okay?”

  I feel a wave of emotion come over me at the thought of Vito.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. I’m here if you need me, sweety.”

  “Thanks, Teague.”

  15

  Vito

  The long nap felt good, and as I rub the crust out of my eyes, I glance at the clock. It’s just after 5:30, and the sun is low in the sky. I dress and come down to the main living area, just happening to walk past the dining room on the way to the kitchen. The Don and his wife are seated at the dinner table, as are Ricci and Mira.

  Tony is nowhere to be seen. “Hey, Vito. Come join us.” The Don spots me, and waves me over, as the rest turn to look at me.

  “I don’t want to interrupt.”

  “Don’t be silly, Vito. There’s plenty for you, and you’re always welcome at my table. Come.” He waves me over again.

  “Alright.” I nod and walk to the long table, its ornately carved legs and chairs reminiscent of the old country, and take a seat just to the left of Ricci. Mrs. Antolini has already summoned Maria and is telling her to set me a plate.

  There’s roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, mixed vegetables and, of course, fresh Italian bread with butter. Two bottles of wine, both red and white, are opened, and I could use a drink right about now. A gin and tonic with fresh lime and on the rocks is more my speed, though.

  Mrs. Antolini speaks. “Help yourself, Vito. It’s great to have you with us.” This family is so warm and friendly, you would hardly know he was a powerful Don. But this is no normal household. Three of the five people at this table have killed men without a moment’s thought or hesitation and would do it again if it meant self-preservation, or protecting the family.

  Maria places a white china plate with blue decorations of scenes depicting the old country in front of me, and I start filling it with a little bit of everything. It really is nice to sit down with a family again after I can’t remember how long.

  Mira speaks. “So Vito, how was Florida?”

  She has no fucking clue what happened there. “I didn’t really have a chance to enjoy it. Just a few minutes by the pool.”

  She sips her white wine. “Was the weather good?”

  “Yeah. It was sunny the whole time.” I’m already digging into the chicken, and it’s delicious. No doubt Maria was behind all this.

  Ricci jumps in to change the subject. “You know Frankie is still down there?”

  “I thought he was due back?”

  “He’s lovin’ it down there. He and Anna decided to stay until Sunday.”

  “Where are they?”

  “Naples.”

  “I don’t know where that is.”

  Don Antolini answers. “It’s on the west coast, the Gulf, directly across the state from Miami. It’s a one-hour drive through the swamps.”

  “If I had more time, I would have visited.”

  The Don continues. “Well, you’re headed back down there tomorrow. We’ll talk after dinner.”

  ____

  The Don and the rest of the guys find our way to the office to talk about what comes next. Tony joins up with us, too, from who knows where. Don Antolini pours us all some brandy as we gather around him, each grabbing a tumbler as he fills each one half-full and hands them to us. I sit down next to Tony, and through the cushion, can feel the dent he’s putting in this poor couch. I have a feeling Tony exceeds the weight limit on a lot of things.

  The Don speaks. “Gentlemen. Please raise your glasses in preparation of what I’m about to tell you. The war is on. The New York families are squarely on our side. Let us drink to this strong alliance, and may we achieve victory.” He raises his glass, making individual eye contact with each of us in turn, and then we all drink when he’s done.

  War.

  And I fired the first shot.

  I didn’t know whether to feel proud, or scared. Not scared for myself, or my life, but rather for the lives of my friends, their loves, and their families. I just decided
in my own mind that I will do anything and everything in my power to bring this to a close as quickly as possible. I will kill a thousand men if it will end this war sooner.

  The sooner we win, the sooner we can all find peace.

  The Don’s tempered voice shakes me out of my own thoughts and back to reality. “Joey reported back to me on what he found on those computers. That was the main distribution point that you destroyed, Vito. The heroin was coming from the Middle East by ship, offloaded into Miami, processed in that factory, and sent here and also to Las Vegas via trucks. The Las Vegas connection is something we didn’t know about until now.”

  “What do we know about Vegas at this point?” Ricci asked.

  “Not much. We just know about half of what’s coming into Miami is being trucked there. Vito, you will rendezvous with Frankie in Miami. I have a special job planned for you. Ricci and Tony will stay here in the Compound.” He eyes those two. “I need you here for the extra protection. In addition, I’m doubling the guards on the perimeter.”

  I’m fired up now. “I’m willing to do whatever it takes. When do I leave?”

  “Have you unpacked your bag yet?”

  ____

  Just like that, I find myself back on a plane and headed for sunny Miami. The Don gave me instructions for what I need to do with Frankie. It’s dangerous, but necessary. Frankie will get filled in when I see him.

  We have a basic plan. A guy named Nero Petrone is running the operations down in Miami. He reports directly to Sirico, and from what I hear, he’s a real bad character. I’ve heard some stories floated around about him, and they weren’t pretty.

  We have intel on where he’s staying courtesy of Marco, the guy working with the Tortelli’s. No doubt, his panties are all up in a bunch right now about me burning down his factory, along with millions of dollars’ worth of heroin. He’ll be scrambling to explain what happened to his boss and looking to set up shop again somewhere in Miami. My bet would be in the same neighborhood. Frankie and I need to see if we can get access to him, and by any means necessary.

  Access means we can gut him like a fish if the opportunity presents itself, but we’ll see how it all plays out. Where Frankie comes in is getting past this fuck’s security. Besides, I can use another capable guy, so I’m not taking on a small army of thugs all by my lonesome.