by Nicole Fox
“That’s not possible,” I countered. “How would any of them know about the hit? And why would they care?” It was hard to imagine the second-largest crime family in the city giving two shits about some crooked cop. Joe Pitera had been on our payroll for a long time, and it would have made more sense if they had killed him themselves.
“They were fighting for him, on his side,” Frankie tried to explain. He looked so still under the covers; only his head seemed capable of moving. “I was lucky I even managed to get away, but I know for sure it was them. Ciro, there’s more going on here than just some asshole cop who wants to kill Sophia.”
Like a great weight descending on my shoulders, I understood what he meant. Yes, Joe’s threat on Sophia and Christopher was a big deal. But we had even more trouble on our hands if the Vincenzos were getting involved in our affairs. “We have a mole.”
My friend nodded. “I don’t know who. I haven’t even been able to think about it. I can’t …I can’t seem to wrap my head around much with this hole in my gut. But you’ve got to figure it out.” He paused for a minute, his breath shallow and ragged. “I’m not sure I trust Bruno.”
“What?” I barely stopped myself from laughing at him. Bruno had been part of the family my entire life. If there was anyone we could trust, it was him. That was why I had brought him in to discuss the contract on Joe. “Did they give you some good medicine or something? You’re delusional.”
“I’m serious. He wants power, just like everyone else. And he was at our meeting. He knew about the hit.”
I shifted my weight from one foot to another. This whole situation was nothing but uncomfortable. “There were others that knew about the hit, too. And there’s no way of knowing if they told someone else in the family who happened to be the double agent. It’s complicated, Frankie. I’ll figure it out, but I have to be careful.” I wanted to reassure him that I would handle it, but I couldn’t lie to him.
He gripped my hand with a surprising amount of strength. “I think you’re in real danger.”
“Don’t worry about that. I can handle whatever comes my way. I just need you to get better so you can fight alongside me.” My times with Frankie had always been fun and carefree. He’d always had my back. Even when we had been busting our asses, we always found time to laugh and joke about things. But this was too serious and too real. “The doctors are doing everything they can.”
“I don’t know if it will be enough. This is bad, Ciro, and I know it. Just promise me one thing.”
“Anything, Frankie, and you know you’ll have it. But nothing is going to happen to you.”
He ignored my reassurances. “Find the mole, flush him out, and stomp him into the ground. If I die, I want to do it knowing that you and Sophia and Christopher can live out a happy life together. You deserve it more than anybody. You’ve been a great friend.”
I didn’t like the way this conversation was going. “We will live a good life, but you’re going to be right at my side to see it. Just be patient. They’re going to do some surgery in a little bit. You’ve got the best doctors in the county working on you.”
Frankie turned his hand to grab mine. “Thank you for everything, Ciro.” The monitors began to beep loudly, startling me. I stared at the lines and numbers on the screens, but of course I didn’t know what any of it meant. I reached for the button to call the nurse, but there was no need. An entire team of medical staff came rushing in. They swarmed around the bedside like a drove of bees in scrubs. They called out information to each other as their hands moved swiftly.
“Blood pressure is falling.”
“Let’s get him into OR 5. It’s just been vacated. We’ve got to move quickly!”
“Sir, I need you to step out of the room.” This nurse, a different one than the girl who had led me back to Frankie’s room, took me by the arm and moved me toward the door. “We’ll let you know as soon as he’s out of surgery.”
I wanted to argue with her, to ask her if she knew just who she was talking to, or to tell her I was staying with my friend no matter what. But I knew they had a job to do, and I would only be in the way. I slipped out of the room without another word, looking back for just a moment at the man on the bed. His eyes were closed as they worked on him, the sound of the monitors so loud that I couldn’t stand it anymore. I headed back down the hallway, walking slowly. I didn’t bother sitting down once I reached the waiting room. I already knew what was going to happen from here, and so did Frankie. There was nothing the doctors could do to save him.
Someone had betrayed us, and it had cost Frankie his life.
Chapter Thirteen
Sophia
Carlita had taken the stained wedding dress with her, promising to have it cleaned and returned to me. I really didn’t care about it. Someone could take it and turn it into a pillow case for all I cared. The dress was beautiful, but it didn’t mean anything. None of it did. My marriage to Ciro was nothing but a sham—a business transaction that the two of us had been forced into.
Only Christopher seemed to believe it was all real, and Carlita had done a good job of shielding him from the blood and screaming when Frankie had arrived at our reception. It was late when we returned to Ciro’s house, but the little boy was practically bouncing off the walls. “I can’t believe we get to live here, Mommy! I mean, I liked it when we were just staying here for a little while, but now we live here? That’s amazing!” He opened his arms wide and spun in circles around the large living room.
I couldn’t say that I shared his enthusiasm. Yes, this place was much bigger and nicer than our grungy, little apartment could ever hope to be, but to me it reeked of everything I didn’t want in life. With its dark wood floors and leather couches, this was a house for a man instead of a home for a family. It was the residence of a mafia man who had ruined my life with one tiny night of passion. More importantly than that, it was a place that had quickly turned into my prison. I had thought that getting away from Joe would mean I would finally be free, but I had only ended up with a different kind of confinement.
“I’ll be in the kitchen, ma’am.” Jimbo, who had come in the door behind me and locked it firmly, only confirmed my feelings about the place. Carlita had seen us bundled into the vehicle, but Jimbo had once again been assigned guard duty.
I didn’t know whether to thank him or ignore him, so I simply nodded and turned back to my son. “Come on, Christopher. Let’s get you out of your monkey suit and into some pajamas.” I held out my hand to lead him up the stairs.
“Monkey suit? I’m not dressed like a monkey. Zero said this was a tuzedo.” He held out his arms and legs to admire the drape of the fine material.
“It’s tuxedo,” I corrected gently. “And you look very handsome in it.” He truly did. No matter that my feelings for his biological father were a little on the dark side, I couldn’t help but be proud of my gorgeous little man in that outfit.
“A handsome monkey?” he asked, a grin widening his face. “Ooh ooh, aah aah!” He gamboled up the stairs with his arms curled like an ape.
At least I knew I would always be well entertained. Once I had managed to get the tuxedo off him and his pajamas on, I leaned against the bathroom doorway while he brushed his teeth. “So you think you’ll be happy here?” It was important to me that he live a good life. I could be miserable, but not him.
“Mommy, didn’t you see that TV?” he asked around a mouthful of foamy toothpaste. “And Zero has a whole cabinet full of snacks. And I saw a park on our way here that’s even bigger than the one we usually go to.” He paused, his toothbrush in the air and a thoughtful look coming over his face. “Is daddy going to be able to visit us here?”
It was the one subject I hadn’t really discussed with him since we had come to stay with Ciro. Poor Christopher had no idea that I was now married to his true father, or that the man he had thought of as “daddy” was now more interested in killing him than playing with him at the park. I felt a pang of jealousy for al
l the mothers out there who didn’t have to worry about such things. “I’m sure we’ll arrange something,” I replied vaguely, happy to put off a more serious discussion until daylight hours. “Now, let’s get you off to bed.”
After lots of kisses and hugs and assurances that, yes, we could put a Captain America poster in his room, I finally left Christopher and went back downstairs. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I was a wife once again, but I didn’t truly feel as though I had a husband. Ciro didn’t love me, and Carlita had warned me that there might be other women in his life. I didn’t even have a job anymore. All I could do was take care of my boy, but where did that leave me after his bedtime?
I wandered into the kitchen to find something to drink. Jimbo sat at the kitchen table, looking a bit startled to see me. A massive sandwich rested between his hands. He plopped it back down onto the plate and made to get up.
“Don’t leave on my account,” I assured him. “I’m just going to get some milk or something and head to bed.” I turned to the fridge and stared blankly inside it. I was thirsty, but there was nothing inside that was truly going to change that. I craved so much more than just food and drink. I needed life. I needed to know that I had control over my own destiny, and that I wasn’t floating around at the whim of everyone else around me.
“For what it’s worth, it was a beautiful wedding,” Jimbo said quietly into the silence. I heard the scrape of his chair as he stood from the table and came over to rinse his plate in the sink. “It’s a shame about all that happened with Frankie at the end. I’m sure that wasn’t how you envisioned your wedding day.”
It was a shame, indeed, but in more ways than Jimbo realized. “It’s …okay. There’s nothing I could have done about it.”
“I feel badly for Ciro, too. He and Frankie were close, and I’m sure that’s not how he wants to remember things, either. But maybe, someday, you guys can go on a real honeymoon and forget about all this.” Jimbo had a long face and sad eyes. He was a hulking man—the kind of guy that fit the description of a mafia thug—but it was clear that he had a softer side as well. He moved carefully around me in the kitchen, giving me a wide berth, as though he was afraid he might break me if he got too close.
“To be honest, I hadn’t met Frankie. I’d heard mention of him, but Ciro and I hadn’t been together very long before the wedding.” I didn’t know how much Jimbo knew, but I was sure that most of Ciro’s men had a decent insight into his personal life. They had to if they were working for him or standing as guard at his house.
“Oh, yeah. They were like this.” Jimbo leaned against the sink and crossed his fingers in the air. Ciro probably wouldn’t have approved of his casual demeanor, but I appreciated it. “Best friends since they were kids, those two. You don’t see that kind of friendship just anywhere. Frankie would have done anything for him, but it’s too bad he had to prove it.” He shook his head sadly.
“I had no idea.” Ciro and I had had little time to get to know each other. We hadn’t talked about our pasts, our dreams, or our friends. The only issue at hand had ever been Joe or Christopher. That had been more than enough to occupy our time.
Jimbo looked at the floor and rubbed his lips together, as though trying to decide what to say. “You know, it’s none of my business, but Ciro must think quite a lot of you if he was willing to let Frankie go out on that hit.”
I shut the fridge, curious. “Isn’t it always dangerous to kill someone? No matter who they are?”
He shrugged his agreement. “Sure, at least a little bit. But things are changing. Something is different in the air. I’m not high enough in the family to know anything about it, and I’m not asking, but I think there was a lot more to this than just a crooked cop who didn’t want to work for the Santoras anymore.”
“Huh. I suppose you’re right.” Opening the fridge once more and snagging a bottle of water, I smiled at Jimbo. “It was nice talking to you. Thank you for everything you’re doing for us. It’s nice to know we have someone to keep us safe.”
“It’s my pleasure, ma’am. I’ll be down here if you need me for anything.” He smiled. It was an odd look on his face, as though his facial muscles didn’t really know how to do it anymore.
“Good night, Jimbo.” I climbed the stairs to my room across the hall from Christopher’s. I wasn’t sure where I was supposed to sleep now that I was technically married to Ciro. This was certainly no real wedding night, since he was at the hospital with Frankie. Would he even want me in his bed if it was? There was no telling. It was better to just keep to myself. Ciro would let me know what he wanted from me, and when.
For the time being, I settled down on the fluffy mattress and kicked off my shoes, thinking. Jimbo had given me a lot to ponder. Ciro had sent his best friend out to kill Joe, not just some thug. From Tonio’s ravings at the reception, I had gathered that he hadn’t known anything about the hit. This meant that Ciro had gone behind his father’s back to ensure that Christopher and I would be safe from my ex, and he was very well losing his best friend in the process.
I shook my head and took a drink of the cold water. I couldn’t let that bother me. It hadn’t been my choice to kill Joe. If I could have, I would have done it years ago, but I had never asked it of Ciro. And his father was the one who had made us get married in the first place, so I couldn’t be worried about him defying Big T.
Or could I?
I took off my clothes and slipped into a pink cami and matching shorts. It wasn’t exactly wedding-night attire. I hadn’t even had a chance to buy sexy lingerie, and it looked like there would be no need for it. I settled between the covers and tried to sleep.
Sometime later, just as I was finally beginning to doze, I heard the front door open and close. The deep, low sound of male voices filtered up through the floors. Ciro was home, and Jimbo was reporting to him. I wondered if he would tell my new husband that we had talked in the kitchen.
I tried to get back to sleep, but I found myself listening for him, my body tense in the bed. I heard water running, a little bit of noise in the kitchen, and more discussion with Jimbo. Tossing and turning, I could no longer get comfortable, knowing that Ciro was home. When I heard his heavy footsteps on the stairs, I slipped out of my bedroom.
Ciro still wore the dark pants that went with his tuxedo. The white shirt had been unbuttoned at the collar, and there was no telling where the tie had gone. His eyes were dark and brooding as he reached the landing, and they slid over to me where I stood tentatively in the doorway. “You’re still up?”
“I wanted …” What did I want, anyway? He was watching me expectantly, but he still had his body turned toward his own bedroom door. If I hadn’t gotten up, he would have avoided me completely. “I wanted to say that I’m sorry.”
Ciro’s head swiveled slightly toward me. “For what?”
My heart pounded. “I’m sorry for everything. For getting you tangled up with Joe. For imposing on your life.”
He crossed the hall, but he stopped just before he reached me. He touched my arm ever so gently with his fingertips. “Don’t blame yourself for Joe. That’s not your fault; it’s his. And I was tangled up with him before you and I ever even spoke to each other. He never should have been on the Santora payroll, but we had no way of knowing until now.”
“What about Frankie? Is he going to be okay?” I didn’t know the man, but I needed him to be all right for Ciro’s sake. That would be one less thing for me to worry about.
He shook his head, one dark wave of hair flopping down over his forehead. “No. He’s gone.”
Tears stung the backs of my eyes, and I blinked rapidly. “I’m so sorry.”
“You keep apologizing, Sophia, but you have nothing to apologize for. I’ve gotten myself into a mess—a bigger mess than you probably realize. You’re a bit of a victim in it yourself.” His eyes traced my face, and his look was surprisingly gentle, considering everything that had happened over the last couple of weeks.
In th
at moment, I realized just how much I wanted him. He had come to me as soon as he’d heard that Christopher might be his son. He had done everything in his power to protect us from Joe, including putting a hit out on him and defying his own father. He had done so much more than agree to marry me. Ciro wasn’t going to love me, and I couldn’t expect a happy, monogamous relationship from him, but he was a much better man than I’d ever had in my life before. I was suddenly aware of how little I was wearing, standing in front of him in the hallway, and a shiver ran over my skin. “Despite everything else, it’s still our wedding night.”
Ciro’s eyes were hard on mine, challenging me. He stepped forward until there was barely any space between us. He pressed his lips against mine, softly at first, feeling me out. He kept his eyes open, waiting for me to change my mind.
But I wasn’t going to. I knew just how good things could be with Ciro, at least physically. We would never have a typical marriage, or maybe not even much of one at all, but I could make the best of it. I kissed him back hungrily, slipping my tongue inside his mouth to search for his. It met mine, and they danced and explored together.
