Men of Mayhem

by Anthology

  “Are you all right?” Roman quickly knelt by her side.

  “Yes. I’m not used to being kidnapped and seeing people killed in front of me.” Everything from the past few hours started to flash before her eyes. “You killed someone,” she accused.

  Roman got to his feet. “Yes, as I have in the past and will in the future. I will not tolerate someone who hurts women or harms anyone in the family.”

  Clutching her coffee mug in both hands, she pondered his words. Where did she fit in?

  As if reading her mind, he spoke. “You said you’d go out with me. Do you think you can look past who I am?”

  “I don’t know who you are.”

  Madison

  Madison pressed the veil with her iron one last time. Who gets married on New Year’s Eve? Luckily someone did. The money sure didn’t hurt and it was a much needed distraction from the previous week. She placed the veil on a hanger and started on one of the bridesmaid dresses. The color was called crimson but it looked blood red. A shudder ran through her. The sight of Diego’s half blown out skull would hopefully fade someday, but for now, it was too soon to forget.

  After waking up at Roman’s home and their talk, he encouraged her to go to the police. Romeo had been with her the whole time. He comforted her, gave her a shoulder to lean on, and coached her on what to say to the authorities. Fortunately, Roman’s friend on the force did most of the questioning and he didn’t press too much. Diego was gone and no one knew. No body, no crime.

  It still weighed heavy on her shoulders. Roman had killed Diego in cold blood. Sure, he had deserved to be punished, but shouldn’t the law have taken up that task? Apparently it was mafia code to avenge the honor of one of its members, but the fact that he was a member of another mafia family would most likely result in problems somewhere down the line. Andrea’s father was the leader of a biker gang, so Diego’s days were numbered either way. How quickly she’d started thinking about mafiosi and biker gangs as if it were a common thing.

  Madison never had a problem being alone but now she was anxious. With Roman around, she felt safe, content, and wanted. Was it because he’d rescued her? He stirred feelings that she’d not felt in a long time. Feelings like desire, excitement, and a need to see him again. Her shoulders sank. What to do?

  Yes, it was her fault he’d left without further discussion of their relationship. She didn’t want to deal with it. How could she comprehend dating someone she’d just met, a mobster? He was handsome, a sharp businessman, a fantastic kisser, and during the brief time they spent together, they’d never lacked for things to talk about. Was he compatible with her? Could she carry on a relationship with a person who lived in the underworld, yet held a respectable profile at the same time? She’d spent Christmas alone. Roman had to return to Chicago for business. What business that was, she didn’t ask.

  Any time Roman had phoned, the sound of his voice caused her heart to beat faster. He wanted to know everything she was doing and how she felt. During their last talk he made it clear he wouldn’t wait any longer. He wanted an answer tonight. Would she or wouldn’t she be with him?

  Once the dresses were pressed, bagged, and ready to go, she left Stephanie in charge. Finding Arlo by her car was not what she wanted or expected. The man was hard to read but he made it perfectly clear he had Roman’s best interests at hand, not hers.

  “Hello.” Arlo pushed away from the car and took a step closer. In his arms was a huge box. “The boss wanted me to drop this off. He said to tell you that he’s looking forward to seeing you tonight.”

  “I haven’t decided if I’ll attend.” Her key fob beeped as she unlocked the car door.

  Arlo smiled and placed the package in her arms. “You will.” The wink he gave offered proof that he’d be seeing her again soon.

  Before she could respond, the man turned his back and strolled away. Madison’s lower lip puckered and she mumbled, “Are all the men in the mob so cocky?”

  “Yes, ma’am. We are.”

  Her eyes widened as Arlo twisted, gave a brief salute, and kept walking. The corner of her mouth lifted and she tossed the gift from the boss in her back seat.

  When Madison arrived at the hospital, many people lined the halls outside Andrea’s room. One of the nurses finally had to step in and ordered them to a nearby waiting room. They did not go willingly until an old man exited her room and signaled them to leave. He bore a slight resemblance to Andrea, and if she were a betting woman, it was a good chance this was her father. When his eyes locked with her, he smiled.

  “Miss Miller?” He stepped closer.

  “Yes. Are you Andrea’s father?”

  He nodded and she shook his now extended hand. “I’m Mario and I want to thank you.” His other hand now covered hers as well. Worry lines creased his forehead. “I’ve been sick with worry ever since Andrea took up with the bast…sorry, that miserable excuse for a man. I can’t thank you enough for stepping up and talking some sense into my girl.”

  “I’m so sorry for all that she had to go through, and I’ll be there if she needs me.”

  The pain in his face was evident. He finally dropped her hand and spoke so only she could hear. “If you ever need anything, anything at all…you come to me.”

  It was hard to swallow, but a nod of her head seemed to be all he needed. He said a quick farewell, and with a strong stride in his step Mario stopped at the waiting room. Briefly addressing the men there, they all stood, looked her way, and then all but a few left. In some weird way, she had a feeling that not only Roman’s men would now be watching over her, but Mario’s as well.

  Never had it dawned on her before that she might need it, but in a way it was comforting, as if she’d gained an extended family. Madison breathed easier and the tension in her shoulders lifted for the first time in days.

  She admired the way the rust-colored gown caught the light. The fabric shimmered with bits of gold. Madison had tacked the straps up, but other than that it was a perfect fit. Valentina must have picked it out for her, yet the low cut front and lace back had her wondering. The dress was to replace the one that had been ruined. Was it bad that she’d accepted Romeo’s gift so easily? Romeo. Even she’d started thinking of him by the nickname. Madison’s Romeo, if she could be so bold. Had she made her mind up yet? No.

  Slipping on her coat, she locked her door and walked to the car he’d sent for her. It was close to eleven when she entered the ballroom of the town’s community yacht club. This event was open to everyone. In recent years, she’d spent New Year’s at home, but this was too important to miss. At midnight Romeo wanted an answer. Would she go out with him? It weighed heavily on her mind as she made small talk and sipped drinks for the next hour. Could she risk dating a man she knew so little about but the papers painted as the playboy son of a Chicago mobster? One who would one day take over as boss of his own family? Yes, she’d looked him up online and did her homework.

  It felt a little like a business arrangement but it wasn’t. The man wanted to make sure she knew what she was getting into. That it wouldn’t always be ball gowns and mansions. There were risks, and she’d already found that out the hard way. Not only was she captivated by Romeo but there was also the added warmth of knowing there would always be someone looking out for her, to have an extended family so to speak. Because she’d grown up an only child, that was something she’d always dreamed of.

  As the clock inched closer to twelve, Romeo still wasn’t there. Bad roads had delayed his arrival. Andrea had convinced her that Roman had done the right thing. If convicted, Diego would spend some time in jail, but it wouldn’t be forever. The poor girl would have spent years always looking over her shoulder for him or someone he might have hired to torment her until the end of time. The whole family was thankful the awful man had been killed.

  One of the local councilmen tapped a microphone and brought her back to the present. The hair on her arms stood up and her heart accelerated. She could feel him watching her. Th
ere, across the room, stood Romeo. His gaze locked on her. It was time to decide if she would step into the New Year with a man by her side or slip back into her safe but lonely existence. Was he as nervous as she? If she said no, would he walk away like he didn’t care? Her pulse raced as he came closer.

  “You look lovely. I’m so glad you wore the dress.” His fingers settled briefly on the side of her neck as he leaned in for a quick kiss to her lips. His touch always made her knees weak.

  “Thank you.” Further words escaped her.

  “Have you decided?” The man didn’t mess around. “I’ve missed you and I want to spend more time with you.”

  What to do? What to say?

  Ten. The crowd started the countdown to the next year and everything she planned to say flew right outside the window.

  Nine.

  Her breathing labored as he pulled her into his arms and whispered in her ear.

  “I’m not an ordinary man and I can’t give you an ordinary life.”

  Eight.

  “Existence is short in my line of business.”

  Seven.

  His hand rested on her throat, his thumb caressing her jawline.

  Six.

  Visons of their walk in the moonlight warmed her soul. The long talks they’ve had on the phone and plans they had made.

  Five.

  “I want us to be together.”

  Four.

  “I want you.”

  The deep rumble of his voice sent goosebumps down her spine. Then the picture of Romeo asking Diego a question before he shot him reared its head.

  Three.

  “Will you take a chance on us?” His lips so close the air from his breath tickled her ears.

  Two.

  “Madison?”

  The musky cedar scent of his cologne threatened to curl her toes.

  One.

  Cries of Happy New Year burst from the crowd. Noise makers boomed and confetti flew everywhere. Her gaze unlocked from his and took in the partygoers. It happened too fast.

  He framed her face in his hands and brought her gaze back to his. He smiled and his arms lifted her in a hug. When her feet were finally back on the ground, his lips touched hers.

  The kiss was heady, overpowering, and like nothing she’d ever experienced before. If this was an example of the passion he was capable of, there would be no turning back. She couldn’t think, but he needed an answer.

  It hurt like hell to say it, but she couldn’t be with a mobster. That was no life for her.

  “I can’t.” Madison exhaled and bit her lip. “I can’t do this.”

  Romeo dropped his hand and picked up hers, an unreadable expression across his face. Heaven help the person who ever gave him the wrong answer, yet she just gave him hers. Slowly the corners of his mouth lifted. “Did you know the one you kiss on New Year’s Eve is the one you will end up with?” He crushed his lips to her. A fierce yet tender remembrance of how good things could be. Madison didn’t realize she’d flung her arms around him until he untangled them from around his neck.

  “I promise you, Madison, I will take care of you.”

  She couldn’t speak but shook her head. “I want to but I can’t.”

  “You will and you can.” There was no hesitation in his voice.

  This time when he stared into her eyes, determination was written all over his face. She’d turned him down but he wasn’t taking no for an answer. Butterflies fluttered across her stomach and goosebumps rose along her spine. His lips lowered to hers and yet she couldn’t turn away.

  How could someone who kissed with such passion be so dangerous? She was frightened yet turned on at the same time. Her fingers clutched his shoulders and held on tight. It would be their last kiss and she intended to enjoy it.

  What would happen after the kiss ended and she walked away?

  Madison had a feeling that, for better or worse, he would never let her go.

  The End

  About the Author

  I hope you enjoyed getting to know Madison and Romeo as I introduce a new series called Genoa Mob Men.

  Ginger Ring is an eclectic, Midwestern girl with a weakness for cheese, dark chocolate, and the Green Bay Packers. She loves reading, traveling, watching great movies, and has a quirky sense of humor. Publishing a book has been a lifelong dream of hers and she is excited to share her romantic stories with you. Her heroines are classy, sassy, and in search of love and adventure. When Ginger isn’t tracking down old gangster haunts or stopping at historical landmarks, you can find her on the backwaters of the Mississippi River fishing with her husband.

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  https://www.facebook.com/romancewritergingerring

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  https://twitter.com/GingerRings

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  Webpage and Blog:

  http://gingerring.com/

  Enforcing Fate

  Amy Rachiele

  Alex and Meryl’s Story

  Meryl

  He’s dead. The words roll about in my head as I swirl the amber whiskey in my glass around and around, staring at it sloshing. The casino I’m at in the heart of Chicago is busy tonight. The lights are low but the sounds of the slots are deafening.

  It’s a bold place. A large open space for people to try to win against the riptides of luck. Apparently, I don’t have any so I wouldn’t even bother to stick a dime into any of the slot machines. Brightly lit and colorful, they stand along the walls like sentinels. So I choose to sit comfortably with the cool granite on my forearm and the black leather of the barstool against my back.

  I’ve chosen to do my drinking here even though I don’t gamble because I need the noise. It helps to drown out the usual and unwelcome roar that goes on nonstop in my head. Still, I’m a little surprised at myself for choosing to spend my evenings in a place like this. It is probably because amongst the slot machines, tables, and waitresses weaving in and out of the thick crowds, the casino is absolutely gorgeous—a regal gothic style with a hint of modern elements that add to the ambience. It’s comfortable in an enigmatic way. The first night I walked in and parked myself at the expansive bar, contentment surfaced for the first time in what seemed like forever.

  I tip my drink to my lips, gulp the rest of it down, and slide the glass across the bar for a refill. The guy tending is someone I haven’t seen before. I’ve been spending my nights here since I moved to Chicago right after it happened. I couldn’t face our home, our stuff, or even our car when it was finally over. I sold or gave it all away and left as fast as a 747 could take me. His death didn’t leave me destitute, but it left me alone.

  My phone dings with a text from a friend I hardly ever saw when he was alive. The message reads:

  How are you?

  I click the delete button. I’m not ready to talk. I can’t hear it again. You’re so young. You’ll meet someone else. It’s too bad you never had kids.

  The calls from aunts I haven’t spoken to in ten years really tick me off. I wasn’t worth a call when I was married, so why am I worth a call now that I am a thirty-four-year-old widow?

  This new bartender who has never waited on me before is scrounging under the bar, not really appearing to know what he’s doing. His dark brown hair is on the long side and hangs in his eyes. I watch him shove it out of the way, seeming miffed.

  “Excuse me.” I tap my finger on the shiny granite. “I’ll have another when you get a chance.” He is busy, engrossed in pouring and figuring out how to use the tap, and highly agitated. I watch him. It makes me stifle a giggle. Clearly, this is not what he is cut out for.

  He doesn’t look at me when he says, “It’s coming. Give me a minute.”

  Oh, he’s ruffled. Instead of being bothered by his attitude, I cover my mouth with the back of my hand, attempting not to laugh at him.

  “Are you new?” I can’t stop myself from asking.

  “No, I’m not new,” he barks, low, aggr
avated. “I’ve worked here practically my whole life.” He snaps up to his full height, tall, with a whiskey bottle in one hand and a clean glass in the other.

  His mannerisms are so cute, it’s amusing.

  “Okay.” I keep my laugh as contained as I can but a puff of air bursts from me. I seal my lips shut. It isn’t nice to laugh at him.

  He’s staring, so I turn to see what’s behind me. People are going back and forth to slot machines and roulette tables near the bar, smiling with a hopeful, greedy glint in their eyes. I twist back around and my drink is directly in front of me.

  “Thank you,” I toss out, scooping up the cool glass and clasping it in my hand. Instead of going back to his prep area or helping others around me, he is standing before me. His dark eyes boring into me.

  “I have a running tab,” I tell him, assuming he is waiting for me to pay him. Awkwardly, he grabs a rag from below and wipes down the area. He is concentrating on his own movements intensely like he wants to stay right here but is seemingly embarrassed to look at me.

  “So,” I start. “You have worked here practically your whole life, huh? I guess not as a bartender, though?”

  “Security,” he states firmly, intent on making the area in front of me sparkle.

  “I would say that is definitely the opposite of tending bar.” I lift my glass again.

  “Alex!” a dark-haired guy calls to him. His head shoots toward the voice. “Bobby’s here.” He stops.

  “I’m good!” he calls back, absorbed in his task.

  The guy who called out to him throws his hands in the air, his face twisted in confusion.

  “I think he is letting you know that you are all set,” I offer, taking a swig of my drink before turning my attention back to the two men. “Bobby is a regular bartender here.” The one who should be serving drinks instead. I down the last drops of my whiskey and reach into my purse for my credit card.