Stroke: A Bad Boy Romance

by Gabby Grace

  To say the last three weeks have been tough would be the understatement of the fucking century.

  It took some digging, but then I thought of Lucenzo’s girlfriend at the club, a stripper named Monique, and through her, we were able to get in touch with his sister who lives up in Cocoa Beach on the northeast coast of Florida. She claimed his body without any questions asked. Well, just one question. She wanted to know if he died a ‘good death.’ I didn’t know what she meant by that, but I assured her he did. I figured she meant did he die fighting?

  He definitely did. As hard as it was, Bella told me exactly what happened in the club, and there’s no doubt in my mind that he saved her life. If Petrone didn’t kill her, he would have ruined her forever. I said my piece with Lucenzo in my own way. I wish I could have thanked him while he was still alive. He was a brave man and deserved better than getting shot in the back.

  Fucking Petrone. My only regret is that’s he’s not still alive so I can kill him over and over again. I would enjoy that immensely. I’m sure the rest of humanity likes him just where he is, though: six feet under and with half a face. I have no doubt he would have harmed Bella without giving it a second thought. She would have been abducted and forced to do things with that fuck that I don’t even want to think about. I owe Lucenzo. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay him, but I’ll find a way.

  As far as Frankie and me go, it was just one more adventure in our dangerous lives. Either we chose it or it chose us, but either way, we’re both in it for the long haul. Things are a little easier for him, as he’s not living in poverty in the gritty slums of the south Bronx, but rather in the lap of luxury with the daughter of the very important right-hand man of Don Antolini. Joey Gentile. He’s a good man. Steady and level-headed when half the rest of us are going off half-cocked and either killing or getting killed.

  As far as me and Bella, we’re doing as well as can be expected considering the circumstances. In some ways, she feels responsible for Lucenzo’s death, but we’ve been through it, and I think she knows any man worth his weight would have stepped in and done what he had. Her boy Teague stepped up, too. He just didn’t have the muscle to get it done.

  There are not enough real men left in this world. Men who know the difference between right and wrong and are willing to say or do something about it. I do.

  I may talk big, but I can back it up. Ask fucking Nero Petrone.

  After I debriefed with Don Antolini via a secure phone line, he granted me a ‘vacation,’ as he put it, and I can sure fucking use it. Frankie stayed with me down here, just outside of Miami, until the dust settled a bit.

  There were a few people who I.D.’d us at the scene, but they quickly forgot what they saw when some of Don Tortelli’s toughs helped them forget. They weren’t harmed. That’s not what I would want for anyone. But they know better than to remember what they saw, so they simply forgot and moved on with their lives, probably deeply scarred from what they saw and heard.

  Still, we thought it best if we lay low down in Florida, as there might be some aggressive actions taking place up north with the death of Nero Petrone, a lieutenant in the Sirico family, and the destruction of one large and vital drug distribution warehouse that will paralyze their operations, at least for a period of time. No doubt, I have a contract out on me, but I say, bring it. I’m not afraid, and I’ll take on all comers. I just have to think about Bella’s safety.

  Frankie, Bella and me spent a lot of time together eating good food and going out for drinks, and even though it took her a week or so, she learned how to laugh and smile again. That allowed me to heal, too. Without her happiness, I couldn’t seem to find mine. If I’ve learned one thing from this experience, it’s to live life to the fullest, because you never know when it’s your last fucking day to laugh, to love, or to simply breathe.

  36

  Vito

  “I need to run out, Bella. I’m meeting someone.” I have to yell as this house is so big and I usually have no idea where she is.

  “Okay.” She calls back to me from the backyard.

  Lucenzo’s brother just got in contact with me and wants to meet. I have no fucking clue how he got my info, but maybe I had left it with his sister Lucinda at some point.

  He wants to meet at a place called Casa Tua in Miami, and because I have no clue where that is, I punch the address into the built-in GPS on the Mustang I’ve permanently rented from Avis Car Rental at the Miami airport. They’ve called a few times to ask if I’m returning it, but I refuse on the grounds that I’m still paying my bills, and I’ll keep it as long as I fucking well please.

  I crank her up, shift her in gear, and crank the AC, as you could fry an egg on the dashboard right now.

  I’ve learned a lot of the back roads to get into and out of Miami, and that’s saved me a lot of time. The GPS says twenty-six minutes, but we’ll see. Lucenzo, that poor fuck, should be having a celebratory drink with me right now, but instead he’s dead as a sea bass at Fulton’s Fish Market.

  I know I gave him a hard time, but I was just messing with him half the time, and the other half he was dragging his feet getting shit done. Anyhow, I feel like I owe the guy. He saved my girl, and meeting his brother is the least I can do.

  ____

  The Casa de Tuey, or whatever the fuck it’s called, is a fancier place than I expected. If I had known, I would have dressed up in something nicer than khaki shorts and a short-sleeved t-shirt.

  I spot a waitress and get her attention. “I’m looking for a guy named Valentino Denunzio. Is he here?” She leads me out the back door, and as I look around, I notice every guy is wearing a suit. We exit at the opposite end of the restaurant through some open folding doors, emerging to an outdoor seating area on a red brick patio.

  The tables are done up with white linen, and what strikes me are the trees growing out of the middle of the eating area. Scattered around the patio area are candle-lit lanterns of all shapes and sizes hanging from tree branches. The way it all illuminates the trees and the vines growing up the walls, it feels like a place you might find in any number of cities or towns in the old country.

  “Mr. Denunzio? His deep-set eyes rise up away from his phone. “This gentleman is here to see you. He rises to meet me and we shake hands, his strong grip and solid upper body telling me this guy has been in some rumbles.

  “I’m Vito Cirincione.”

  “Valentino Denunzio, nice to meet you. Please, have a seat, Vito.” His hand gestures to the seat across from him. I sit and wait for him to speak.

  “I understand you knew my brother.” His Sicilian accent is more pronounced and thicker than most guys I know, and something tells me he’s from the old country.

  “I was there when he died.”

  The waitress shows up at the worst possible time to take our drink orders. Valentino gestures to me to order first.

  “I’ll have a gin and tonic.”

  She shifts her eyes to him. “Le Macchiole Merlot, thank you.” He waits for her to walk off, scoping out her ass a bit, if I’m not mistaken, as she shakes her hips walking away.

  “Did he die well?”

  I furl my brow. “I’m not sure what you mean?”

  “Was he brave?” He takes a drag from his cigarette, Lucky Strikes according to the pack that’s lying beside his phone on the table.

  “Yes. He saved my girl from a bad fucker.”

  “What was his name?”

  “Why are you asking me these questions? How do I know I can talk to you?”

  He takes a long drag, flicks his cherry on the ground, then blows out the smoke in a thin stream, never taking his eyes off me, and says, “Have you heard of Paolo Denunzio?”

  “You mean the big boss from Sicily?”

  He nods.

  “You?”

  “He’s my father.” He’s the head of one of the three largest families in the old country. A top dog in my world.

  “My apologie
s, Valentino… I’m trying to be safe with this information.”

  “Understood. So tell me about this man.”

  “Nero Petrone. A lieutenant with Don Sirico out of New York and now Miami.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “I took care of him. Six feet under.”

  “Good.” He crosses his fingers of each hand, holding his thumbs together, and then he continues. “Do you know why I’m here?”

  “I’m guessing for your brother’s funeral.”

  “That’s part of it.”

  “What’s the other part?”

  “Vengeance.” His eyes go dark for just a moment, squinting a bit, then return to normal.

  “I told you I took out Petrone.”

  “I want the whole family to pay.”

  “You mean the entire Sirico family?”

  “Yes. The top people mostly.”

  “Does this go deeper than just your brother?”

  “Much.”

  “So, is it just you?”

  “For now.”

  “I have no orders from my family right now. I was asked to stand down and take a breather.”

  “But Sirico was on your list, was he not?”

  “He was.”

  “Do you want to kill him as badly as me?”

  I answer carefully, not wanting to commit myself or disagree with him. “I’ll do whatever my boss orders me to do. You’ll have to take that up with Don Antolini.”

  “I already have.”

  “You work quick.”

  “I can use you. Maybe Frankie, too. I heard he has special talents.”

  “You heard right. You mind if I clear this with my boss? He hasn’t told me anything about you.”

  “That’s because we just spoke a few minutes ago. You call your boss, and then we’ll be in touch.”

  “Can I stay for my drink?”

  “Of course, and please, have dinner with me.”

  I excuse myself and take a quick walk out the back entrance. I wait until I’m halfway down the block to talk with the Don. I pull out my phone, flick to contacts, then hit send when I reach his name.

  “Good evening, Don Antolini.”

  “Hello, Vito.”

  “I’m here with Valentino Denunzio. He told me you two spoke?”

  “That’s right, Vito. The Denunzio’s are one of the oldest families operating out of the old country. Ordinarily they wouldn’t get involved with something like this, but for them, this is personal now. They lost a son and a brother, and they want in on this.”

  “Valentino told me he wants vengeance.”

  “If that what he wants, we need to utilize the added punch of this unlikely ally and put an end to Sirico’s ambitions once and for all.”

  “He told me I’m taking orders from him now.”

  “They are an old and well-respected family. I will not go against them. Let’s treat this like the gift that it is. But you still take your orders from me. No doubt, Don Sirico will be looking to set up another distribution location there in Miami, and I need you to get to the bottom of it. I heard Valentino is a top-rate hitman. If you decide to link up with him on a job, you’re working with the best, Vito.”

  “Whatever you say, Don Antolini.”

  “Just keep me posted. I need to stay in the loop. And Vito, I’m sorry for cutting your well-earned vacation short.

  “I’m happy to serve the family however I can Don Antolini.”

  I walk back to the restaurant to find my gin and tonic waiting for me at the table. I know it will be top-shelf.

  “I assume you called your Don?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, tell me everything you know about the Sirico’s.”

  Over dinner and another round of drinks, I tell him all I know about their family, my discovery, and the destruction of their warehouse, right up to the elimination of Nero Petrone.

  “So, you ordered my brother in?”

  “Yes.”

  “I understand why you didn’t go.” I had told him I met Petrone before and he knew my face. “Why not Frankie?

  “From what we know, he’s on some kind of hit list with the family. He pulled a job and robbed them of a lot of money not too long ago. They want him dead as much as they do me.”

  “How did my brother respond?”

  “You want the truth?”

  He nods.

  “He was scared.”

  “But he went in anyway?”

  “We had no choice.”

  “What do you know about my brother?”

  “Not much. I know he had a girlfriend who was a stripper. I know he’d rather spend his afternoon hanging out there than earning a paycheck.”

  “I thought you didn’t know him?” He sips his wine, looks off to this left, and then continues. “You actually knew him quite well.”

  “Let me guess. He didn’t fit well with your family.”

  “You’re a smart man, Vito. He was a bit of a… how do you say here… a black sheep.”

  “Is that why he came here?” I sip my drink. It goes down smooth.

  “Yes. My father felt he disgraced our family with his ways. He’s my older brother, but my father never wanted him to take over the family. He wasn’t fit for that.”

  “And you?”

  “What do you think?” He tilts his head, unblinking and steady.

  “I think you’re next in line.” He gave me nothing in the way of a reaction, so I continue. “Do you blame me for your brother’s death?”

  “No. On the contrary. You helped him stand up and be a man. No one else ever achieved that. But regardless of his standing in this family, he is still my brother and my father’s son.”

  “So, vengeance?”

  “Vengeance.” We raise our glasses together, and I know and he knows that we can trust each other with our lives.

  37

  Bella

  “Hi, Vito.” I look up from the novel I’m reading, happy to see him walking through the front door.

  He shuts the door behind him, and I admire watching his muscles flex as he walks over to me. He leans down to kiss me, the taste of gin on his breath. I’ve gotten used to it.

  “So, who were you meeting?”

  His eyes look like he’s hiding something, and I know what will come out of his mouth next.

  “I can’t say.”

  “Vito, you said you’d be honest with me.” My voice takes on an excitable tone.

  “You’re right, I did. Everything’s changed, though.” He’s still hovering over me, his large frame blocking the light from the lamp next to me.

  “In what way?” I move my feet off the ottoman so he can sit down, and he does.

  Looking me squarely in the eye, seriousness framing his face, he says, “Things could get dangerous.”

  “And they haven’t been already?” I put my still open book face down over the arm of the chair.

  “That was nothing compared to what’s next.”

  “I can handle myself, Vito.”

  “Just like you handled yourself at Fave?” I regretted it the moment the words came out of my mouth, but I couldn’t take it back. “I’m sorry, Bella.”

  “You don’t have to be such an asshole.”

  I don’t know what to fucking say.

  “I grew up in Medellin, the drug capital of the world. There were bad men, drug cartels, drive by shootings… you name it. I lived in that shit.”

  “This is different, Bella.”

  “How?”

  “Were those men shooting at you?”

  He does have a valid point.

  Vito breathes out heavily, takes a deep breath in, and then continues. “Listen, Bella, there’s something you need to know. And maybe then you’ll understand why I can’t share information with you. Nero Petrone targeted you. He knew you were with me and he targeted you to get back at me for bringing down his warehouse. You were nothi
ng but his form of payback, and we’ll never know what he could have done to you. It would not have ended well.”

  “I had no idea.” I can feel my voice change as the color rushes from my face.

  “Bella, you have to trust me to keep you safe. The more I tell you, the more danger you’ll be in. I get that you want an open relationship where we’re honest with each other. I just can’t be honest with you about this. Jesus, if you only knew how these people operate. They will do anything to stay ahead, to preserve themselves, including going after people’s families.”

  “How bad is this going to be?”

  “Bad.”

  Because there’s nothing else to be said, Vito goes off to take a shower and I’m left alone with my thoughts. Damn it. Just when things start to go smoothly again, he gets pulled back in. I won’t let him go. He’s given me no indication that he wants out. Even if he did want out, is that even possible?

  I need to trust him. What’s harder than trust? I don’t know of anything. It’s a leap of faith, truly, to be getting deeply involved with Vito. He’s a wild card for sure, and I emphasize wild.

  He takes care of things from what I saw. I wasn’t close, but I watched him dodge a speeding car and then rip that creep Petrone out of it. Then I watched him kill him.

  I’m glad it was from a distance. I don’t think I could have handled that up close.

  It’s been hard. I haven’t been back to work since it happened. My situation reminds me of a friend I once knew who lived in New York City. She worked in one of the Twin Towers as a high-powered executive for a large financial consulting firm. She was there when people died. She saw people leaping from the building, choosing that fate rather than burning to death.

  It changed her forever. She quit her job, moved to the country about an hour north of New York City, lived off her savings and got into beekeeping. As far as I know, she still does it. What changed her? Did she see too much? Could she not handle it?

  Sometimes I feel like I need to change my life. It just feels wrong. Actually the only part of it that’s right is my relationship with Vito. Even that’s tainted, though. Overshadowed at times by the violence of it all, it’s not an easy thing to overlook.