Men of Honor: Cosa Nostra book 1

by Jasmine Denton

  She’d never wanted kids, she decided that a long time ago. She didn’t know the first thing about being a mother, and no DeLuca was ever truly safe. How would she protect her baby from all of Trey’s enemies? Raking a hand through her hair, she let out a deep breath in hopes of calming herself, but her heartbeat began to rapidly increase. She kept waiting for that small spark of joy, that motherhood glow of anticipation to begin, but it didn’t. Instead she just felt hopeless; ensnared in a trap of impossible choices, each one leading to heartache.

  Bela was sitting at the kitchen table, watching a soap opera on the small TV in the corner and eating leftover pasta when Trey entered the room. She glanced up at him and felt a sudden sting of regret. Knowing the secret she was keeping made it hard to look him in the eye. Did he deserve to go to jail? she wondered. How could she know for sure?

  Trey grimaced at the TV screen. “How can you watch this shit?”

  “Shh,” she said. “Nate’s just about to find out Cassie isn’t his daughter.”

  He shook his head as he went to the refrigerator and took out a bottle of beer. As he cracked it open, he said, “I was just going to order some takeout,” he said. “You interested?”

  She’d suddenly lost her appetite. Sticking her fork into a pile of pasta noodles, she said, “Not really.”

  He shrugged and headed for the phone. “More for me.”

  Picking up the cordless phone mounted to the wall, he began to dial a number. The soap opera went to a commercial and Bela picked up the remote, turning the TV off. Looking nervously at Trey, she said, “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “Have you ever killed anybody?”

  His finger paused in the middle of pushing a button. She could see his entire posture go stiff—his back straightened, his arms tensed. He put the phone away and turned to her. “Where did that come from?”

  “I’ve never really thought about it before,” she explained. “About everything that goes with the job you inherited. I guess I always thought it was roughing up rivals and beating money out of people. But that’s not all, is it? Doesn’t killing come with the job?”

  As he glanced away from her, she could’ve sworn she saw a hint of shame in his eyes. “It does.”

  “So you have?” she asked. “How many people? Or have you lost track?”

  “You’re asking too many questions,” he said, trying to laugh it off, but there was a heavy feeling in the room that wouldn’t go away.

  She looked down at her food, poking at the noodles with her fork. She heard him move forward a couple steps.

  “For the record, it’s not something you can ‘lose track of,’” he said. “I still remember every name.”

  “Are there a lot of names on the list?” she asked. Part of her wanted to let the subject drop, but she couldn’t. For some reason, she just needed to know.

  “Seven,” he said.

  Seven people, she thought with a sinking feeling in her chest. Seven human beings who died at her brother’s hand. How many of them had families? Wives or children? Did those people know what had happened to their loved ones, or were they forced to live every day wondering? Vincent was right, she realized. Both of their families were filled with monsters and murderers and that would never change…not until someone forced them to change.

  “Why do you ask?” he asked.

  When she looked up at him, she found those dark eyes fixed on her intently. The intensity of his gaze made her stagger on her words a little, made her feel flustered. If she lied to him, would he sense it? Had she somehow risked blowing Vincent’s cover by asking this simple question? “I was just wondering,” she said. “Just curious.”

  He nodded and turned away from her, walking back across the kitchen to the phone. “Next time you get curious,” he said as he picked up the receiver, “it’d probably be best to keep it to yourself. The less you know, the better.”

  With a nervous sigh, Mandi looked down at the clock on the dashboard as Trey’s car inched along the highway. Traffic was a nightmare; cars were lined up, bumper-to-bumper, as far as she could see.

  “Don’t worry,” Trey said. “We’ll get there.”

  “On time?” she asked.

  “At least you’re dating the boss,” he said. “And I don’t care if you’re late to work.”

  She rolled her eyes, even though she wasn’t sure what he’d said that annoyed her.

  He noticed this and gave her a sideways glance. “I don’t know why you insist on going to work right now, anyway,” he said. “I told you I’d cover your bills until you heal up. It’s the least I can do.”

  “Some people don’t like to have things handed to them,” she said. “I happen to be one of those people. Besides, I managed to cover most of the bruises. The lighting in the club will take care of the rest.”

  “So you like to work,” he said. “I can respect that. What I don’t understand is why you won’t let me find you a better job. I could get you on Broadway if I set my mind to it.”

  “I’m sure you could,” she said, her voice stiff.

  “I’m making you mad,” he said, looking over at her.

  “You did promise not to try to change me,” she reminded him. “Yet, it sounds like that’s exactly what you’re trying to do.”

  “No. I’m just…I’m just trying to offer you something better.”

  “Because you see me as some…charity case.”

  “What? No, I don’t.”

  “Oh, really?” Turning in her seat to face him, she raised a challenging eyebrow.

  “I’m just trying to show you that I care.” Glancing over at her again, he gave her a suspicious look. “What’s going on with you?”

  She faced the front again. “Nothing.”

  “I don’t believe you,” he said. “What is it?”

  “It’s nothing,” she said, more hatefully this time. “I’m sorry if I don’t want to play Pretty Woman with you.”

  “Oh, come on,” he scoffed. “That’s not what I was trying to do.”

  “Look, I don’t want to fight with you.”

  “Then why are you picking one?”

  “I’m not trying to.” She sighed in aggravation. Maybe it was her out-of-whack hormones or just the stress of her current predicament, but she was moody and annoyed and, sure, she wanted to yell at someone. That wasn’t fair to Trey, though, especially since he didn’t even know what was going on or why she was so irrational. She entertained the thought of telling him, but she knew as soon as she did, it would become his decision, too. Maybe she was being selfish, but she wanted a chance to think about this, to really weigh the difficulties and rewards of having a baby before she let someone else in on the decision making. It was her life that would change the most, after all. She doubted having a kid would affect Trey’s career very much, other than give him one more reason to reach for the stars. But for her—it would throw her body all out of shape, make her lose her job and give her a boatload of new responsibilities. The whole thing was overwhelming and had her feeling helpless and irresponsible.

  “Something’s going on with you,” he was saying as she came back out of her trance of self-pitying thoughts. “I just wish you’d tell me what it was.”

  Keeping her gaze fixed straight ahead, she refused to look at him, worried that if she did—even for a second—she would share her burden with him. She wasn’t sure what about that would be so terrible, she just knew that she couldn’t bear to do it. “It’s nothing.”

  a knot formed in the pit of her stomach as Mandi took the stage that night. She never really minded dancing before, it hadn’t been something she’d always wanted to do, but it was the hand that was dealt to her and she had accepted that a long time ago. But tonight was the first time it had ever felt wrong. As the smell of smoke and booze filled her senses, leaving a nauseating feeling just under the surface, she realized it felt incredibly wrong—as if she were betraying Trey somehow.

  Maybe she was changing
, becoming a better person. Maybe feeling dirty about her job was a good thing; maybe she’d lost her self-confidence. Or maybe it was the new life growing inside her. She knew the baby deserved better, and the horrible truth was that she could probably never give her baby any better than this. She was a stripper, an orphan, a formerly battered woman. Did any of those things have a place in the role of a mother?

  She felt all eyes on her as she swayed her hips from side to side, making sure her long blond curls made their way across her bare shoulders. She inched her skirt down her legs until it fell to the floor, with one foot she scooted it to the side of the stage. They cheered; they gawked and stared like starving wolves who had stumbled across a free meal. She swallowed hard and worked her shirt off as well, leaving herself in her bra and panties. She pushed back the uneasy feeling, trying to remain professional, trying to remain the Siren she had always been. She twirled around the pole and when she landed she stayed down. Crawling toward the edge of the stage where her fans waited with dollar bills, she threw her body back and rocked her hips. The whole time, she told herself that she was nuts for fighting with Trey to keep this lousy job. She should just swallow her pride and let him find her something better.

  She felt their hands start to roam her, sliding the money into her waistband and taking their sweet time doing it. The sensation of their hands on her skin made her feel even worse. Before she could realize what was happening, she was pulled onto her back by someone she couldn’t see and they began to grope her body, feeling her breasts and stuffing money into her bra. There was a no touching policy at the Dive, unless someone had paid for a private dance, but Mandi rarely did that anymore. Stuffing money was one thing, but feeling her up was definitely against the rules. She tried to pull away but he was too strong. Her skin crawled underneath his callused fingers as his hand slid down the curves of her body. She tried to look, to see who was fondling her but the spotlights blinded her and she couldn’t see a thing. Panic set in and she wanted to flee, to run as far and fast as she could. She wanted to scream out, and she tried to tell him to stop but the volume of her voice was nothing compared to the drunken chaos of the club.

  In the distance she heard the bouncer call him off. Why hadn’t he done that sooner? What took him so long to notice? A tear slid down her cheek as he finally let go and she scrambled back to the center of the stage. Her assailant started to leave; she wrapped a shaky hand around the pole, pulling herself to her feet. The music stopped and all eyes were on her. She had a feeling everyone had seen what happened, seen what he was doing to her and no one had done a thing, just like the night she was jumped in the street. She felt dizzy and her world began to spin as she thought about it, about their stares, their whispers and gossip. She kept her eyes locked on him, hoping he would turn around so she could see who it was. And then he did, she narrowed her eyes in confusion, not sure of what she was seeing. Through the haze of different colored lights, smoke and people, she caught a glimpse of a huge, gaudy ring.

  Chapter sixteen

  Mandi staggered into the dressing room, still reeling from the incident. She forced herself to catch her breath. You’re fine now, she told herself, everything’s ok. Just then, her eyes caught a glimpse of something on her vanity: a vase full of red roses. Sitting on top of the flowers was a white note card with her name neatly printed across it. She walked closer, slowly, afraid to get close for some reason. Reaching down to the little white card, she told herself they were probably from Trey. At least she hoped they were. She flipped the paper over and her heart raced as she read the note.

  Watching you.

  That was all it said. How could two words inspire such fear? First the incident on stage and now this. What was going on? Anger and rage bubbled inside her as she flashed back to just minutes ago, as she remembered the baby growing inside her, as she thought back to being beaten in the middle of the street. She let out an aggravated yell as she sent the flowers hurtling across the room. The glass vase shattered as it hit the wall, smashing the petals off the flowers. They landed in a flowing stream of crimson as the shattered pieces of the vase fell to the floor. She turned and rested her hands on the table. Taking a deep breath, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Someone she barely recognized.

  A few minutes later, Johnny entered the dressing room just as Mandi was pulling on her sweater. She’d changed out of her stage clothes now and was wearing a pair of loose-fitting jeans and a t-shirt.

  “Trey sent me to pick you up,” Johnny said.

  For the first time, Mandi was grateful for Trey’s overprotective behavior. She was far too freaked out to walk home by herself tonight.

  “You ready to go?” he asked.

  “So ready,” she said as she grabbed her purse. He held the door open for her as they left the club together, abandoning the flowers and the creepy note.

  Sitting at her desk, Bela waited for her computer to boot up. She slid the floppy disk into the drive on her computer. There were about a dozen or so folders. One of them was labeled Isabelle DeLuca. Cautiously, she double clicked on the folder and opened it. Inside, she found photos from the night of her mother’s murder. Along with crime scene photos that were too gruesome and heartbreaking to look at, she also found a bank statement showing that her father had withdrawn ten thousand dollars the day before the murder. That same amount was then deposited into the account of a man she recognized from her father’s old crew. More photos showed that the man had been murdered shortly after her mother’s body had been found.

  He was the hit-man, she realized with a shiver down her spine. And her father had paid him…and then he’d probably had him taken out, too.

  With knots of dread forming in her stomach, Bela spent the rest of the night looking through the folders on the floppy drive. Along with her mother’s, there were also ten more unsolved murder cases linked to her family. People set on fire, people found with canaries shoved into their mouths, bodies beaten beyond recognition. And those were just the victims that had been found.

  For most of her life, she’d known what her father did for a living, but this was the first time she actually saw it for what it was. And as stupid as it seemed, she’d never realized it before, but her father was a criminal. A murderer.

  “Got any big plans later?” Johnny asked as he drove Mandi home.

  “Sure,” she said. “I have a really hot date with my pillow.”

  He laughed. “I bet. You must get tired after being on stage all night.”

  Suddenly the thought that he’d seen her dance made her uncomfortable. She shifted in her seat, grateful that they would be at her apartment soon.

  Johnny cleared his throat awkwardly. “So, um…Trey said he’d stop in and see you in the morning,” he said, making more small talk. “He’s still trying to find out who roughed you up.”

  “Okay,” she said. Secretly, she wished Trey would just stop looking. All she wanted to do was forget about that; she had more important things on her mind lately.

  “Honestly, though,” Johnny chuckled and something in his voice turned cold. “He doesn’t have a clue.”

  The offhanded way he said this made her even more uneasy. Up ahead, she saw the faded and barely legible sign of her apartment complex. Instead of turning into the parking lot, though, Johnny kept driving.

  “You missed the turn,” she said, looking as the building passed across her window.

  “No, I didn’t.”

  Looking over at him, she gave him a good, long stare, sizing him up. Something about the way his hardened gaze was fixed on the road ahead, something about the way he didn’t look at her, gave her a chill. “Just pull over,” she said. “I can make it from here.”

  “Nope.”

  Another shiver worked its way down her spine. She could now hear the blaring alarm of danger. “I wasn’t asking,” she said, keeping her voice firm. “Pull over.”

  Ignoring her, he made a left turn up ahead and headed down a dark, deserted street. As he s
traightened out the steering wheel, she caught a glimpse of a big, gaudy ring on his index finger. The same one she’d seen in the club tonight. Every instinct in her body was screaming, telling her to get out of the car. She tried opening the door, but it wouldn’t budge.

  “That won’t work,” he said. “I rigged it. It only opens from the outside now.”

  Frantically, she began to roll down the window.

  “Hey,” he snapped, reaching for her arm.

  She jammed her elbow to his face, busting his nose. When he grabbed his nose in pain, she laced her arm through the wedge of open window and felt for the door handle. Grasping it, she pulled the handle up and the door flew open, scraping across her arm. She didn’t stop to think about the pain or danger; she just leapt from the slowly moving car. Landing on the pavement outside on her hands and knees, she didn’t hesitate before she sprang to her feet again. Then she ran down the dark alley, desperately aiming for the intersection up ahead. Without pausing, she glimpsed over her shoulder and saw his car had stopped. Fear fueling her, she ran faster. She’d almost reached the intersection when he grabbed a handful of her hair. With one hard yank, he tossed her back a couple feet. She landed flat on her back, the wind knocked right out of her lungs. Pain shot through her head, dizzying her. Before she could get up, Johnny forced himself on top of her, using one hand to pin her arms above her head.

  “Looks like we’re gonna have to do this the hard way,” he said, brandishing a needle.

  She started to scream, thrashing underneath him and trying to get away. Then she felt a quick prick in the side of her neck, felt him plunge warm medicine into her body. As the world blurred around her, she grew weak, losing the strength to fight. She struggled to get free, to break away from him. The more she fought, the quicker the fatigue set in. Soon, she lost the battle altogether.