“Here’s your drink, baby,” she said into my ear as she began kissing my neck.
Opening my eyes, I took the drink from her hand. Miranda already had her dress hiked up, her bare lower lips on display. I raised the glass to my mouth, taking note of the white crystals swirling at the bottom of the glass. Seems she wasn’t too careful. Her hand was on my crotch, rubbing in the same motion with her tongue attached to my throat. I continued to raise the glass closer to my lips, pausing to hold it under my nose and buy me some time.
“Did he give you the right kind?” she questioned then raised her body to hover over my lap. Her dress was getting higher, her grinding harder.
“Yeah, baby, you got it exactly right.”
She moaned as she pulled herself back, looking into my eyes and trying desperately to be seductive. “I’ll make you forget her.”
She didn’t have to clarify, we both knew who she meant. It took everything I had to keep from choking her with my bare hands.
“Just close your eyes and let Miranda make it all go away.” She reached over. Taking the glass from my hands she tilted my head back and lifted the glass to my lips. Just as the cool liquid touched the skin of my lips, the door burst open, causing Miranda to spill the drink on my face and her hand.
“Sir, don’t drink that! Ma’am, place the glass down on the table and step away from Mr. Santos.”
I KNEW WHO SHE WAS the second she walked into the room. It was no wonder Dominick spent so much time with her or desired her sexually, she was beautiful. She was every man’s wet dream, with legs that went on for miles, hair long and blonde, and nails, red like blood dripping from talons. Her body was so skinny she looked malnourished. This was what I pictured as the stereotypical girl on the side. However, I never gave politically correct labels to people of lesser morals, she was a common whore. There was no exaggerated fantasy of a girl working on Hollywood Boulevard and rich guys in Lotus’ pulling alongside to ask for directions.
I watched her scan the room, searching for Dominick. Anger built deep inside my gut, increasing in its intensity, rising toward my chest. I closed my eyes for a moment and tried to take deep breaths to clear my head and control the anger. According to Sophia, there was more to Miranda than met the eye. Her look could have been perfected by time in the gym, which I doubted; the tiny track lines on the inside of her right thigh were the more probable culprit. Meadow had taught me what to look for when she was selling smack to the hookers in the streets. It was a foolproof method to tell the real druggies from the undercover cops. Sadly, one could tell Miranda had a long hard story to tell, but did I want to listen?
“Miranda could have been so much more.” Another one of her confessions, which came with the free food and drinks.
I was discovering secrets ran deep in this Family. Sophia seemed to have the key to all of them. Nothing came as a surprise to her.
“Miranda’s father is one of Antonio’s men, her mother… well, you already know what I told you about her.”
Miranda’s mother was one of the wives sleeping with each other’s husbands. I remembered one of the conversations from a few weeks ago, when Antonio had taken us to dinner. The women around the room were chattering on about how they each hoped their daughter would be Dominick’s intended, but Miranda had everyone’s certainty that she would win out. Until this moment, I’d never really made the connection.
“Miranda and her father were never close, she is more like her mother than he seems to care for.” Perhaps that explains why she felt the need to sleep with her friend’s husband? As I continued to watch Miranda sway her hips, catching the attention of every man in the room, I took a closer look at her. Why? I’m not sure. Curious, I guess. I wondered if she felt at all guilty about her plan to trap Dominick. Could she so easily live with a man who was there out of obligation and not love? How could she look in the mirror and like the face, which looked back at her? Did she live in a house Dominick paid for, or was she living at home with her mother and distant father?
Following the lines of her body, I noticed again how she was so thin she lacked the curves most women had. With the exception of an overindulgent boob job, she had the body of a twelve-year-old boy. High doses of heroin and lack of food would do that to a body. I’d seen it too many times.
It was when she raised her glass to take a drink that I almost lost my breath. Panic set in while trying to understand the sight before me. I blinked several times, in an attempt to clear the hallucination I was having. Sophia must have laced that juice with something; because it was obvious my eyes were playing tricks on me.
“Ari?” Sophia’s voice seemed to be coming from my left, but it sounded like she was speaking from underwater.
Next thing I knew, I was sitting in the same bathroom I had rushed Marissa into, a cold, wet cloth around my neck and Sophia kneeling before me.
“Drink this.”
My glass of apple juice was thrust into my line of vision and I didn’t hesitate to drink. After a while, I started to feel clarity return to my head. I had to have imagined what I’d seen. Surely, the events of the past few days had finally caught up with me.
“Your color is returning, that’s good.” Sophia’s concerned voice pulled me from my mental nightmare.
Instinct and self-preservation kicked in while I looked her in the eye, my determination to survive taking over. I smiled then drank the sweet juice. “I’m sorry about that. I forgot to eat earlier, really stupid of me.” An eye roll and precocious laugh were added for good measure.
Sophia tapped my thigh and stood up. When she held out her hand, I took it with the most convincing smile I could muster. If what I suspected was happening, the rules of the game had just changed, and this plan of Miranda’s had taken on an entirely different meaning.
Sophia led me to a room just off the kitchen. It reminded me of a space seen in a movie, about a mother and daughter trapped in a room when men broke into her home. The room housed a wall of monitors. Antonio, Marco, and Demetri were standing and staring at the screens, which were all tuned to one room at that moment. I felt the heavy breeze of the door close behind me after I followed Sophia inside.
Focusing on one of the screens, I saw Dominick sit down on a couch with swagger and ease. Demetri hit several buttons, and one of the screens changed to the hallway outside of the room Dominick was in. On the screen, Miranda was holding a short glass and reaching into the front of her dress. She looked around several times then separated what looked to be a capsule before dumping a powder into the glass of amber liquid. She removed her high-heeled shoe and used the stiletto to stir the drink instead of her finger. Whatever was in the glass, she didn’t even want to touch it.
“We are planning to stop him from drinking that shit, right?” Antonio mumbled from his position beside the other men.
They all grinned, but no one answered. I moved over to the corner to my left, wanting to be able to slip out if needed, fearing how this was going to end. All the players seemed to be doing their part, each of their moves were being done with precision. Too bad they hadn’t figured out I knew more than they were aware of.
Two new figures appeared on the screen in the hallway Miranda had once occupied. Everything about them screamed cops. Why this surprised me, I wasn’t sure. Corey had fooled the entire town with his do-good persona, yet he’d been rotten to the core. Still, he had nothing on a single soul who stood in this room.
I glanced back up at the monitor and, as I watched, felt the anger rising inside me again when Miranda raised her dress, showing every eye watching her dirty little secrets living under her skirt. She had no shame as she straddled his lap, not a care in the world that he had confessed his feelings for me. She saw a price tag, a meal ticket, and security, but not love. Did she think of love or had the color of money blinded her from that emotion? I wanted to hate him, but the more time spent with him, allowing him to share bits and pieces of himself with me, the more likable he became. I had to push those thoug
hts away for now and concentrate on him. His face, as she licked his neck to his ear, showed pure disgust, hurt, and anger. He didn’t reveal any of those emotions when he looked at me, when he hugged me, or whispered his confession to me.
The police officers charged into room, effectively stopping Dominick from taking a drink. If he only knew she’d used her dirty shoe to stir the drug. The thought of what she’d walked through on her way over… ew.
“Come on, Ari, we need a ringside seat for this showdown.” Sophia grabbed my arm before I could register what was happening. Pulling me down the hall, and I nearly tripped trying to keep up with her. Coming to an abrupt halt when she crossed the threshold of the room. The two cops stood to my left; Dominick and Miranda were directly in front of me. Silently, the men of the Family took their places behind the detectives, which placed me slightly behind them, acting almost as a shield from Miranda and the scene about to play out.
Even with all the males present in the room, Miranda left her nether regions on display. She was sitting on the armrest of the sofa, her vagina on display for all to see, when the glitter of a piercing caught my attention. I looked away, focusing my attention on Dominick, who was now more relaxed with his gaze on me.
“I’ll take that, Mr. Santos.” The detective reached across the table with his gloved hand, taking the glass from Dominick.
“This is a switch,” Miranda spoke as her bent leg swung back and forth, her other foot rested on a white pillow on the sofa. “You never have this many men in the room when you watch.” Her voice, I guess, sounded seductive, yet teasing.
I didn’t want to know what she’d meant. It was obvious they had a past, one I didn’t need to know about.
“Fuck off, Miranda!” Dominick shouted while he removed his jacket from the back of the sofa and tossed it in her direction. “Cover up that diseased pussy of yours. No one’s interested in that shit right now.” Miranda laughed and tossed the jacket back at him. “Oh, trust me, baby, every man in this room wants a taste of my pussy.”
I wanted to gag, but she was right. Every man in this room most likely did want to drop to his knees and have a sample. Sad thing was, she would have let them each have a turn and let the rest watch as she enjoyed it.
“You heard my son, Miranda, cover it up.” Antonio’s voice was commanding, making it easy to see why he was the head of the Family. The smile fell from Miranda’s face as she sat up straight, pulled her skirt down, and placed a throw pillow on her lap.
“It’s testing positive,” one of the cops said from across the room. Glancing over at him, I saw he was holding a tube half-filled with a blue liquid.
“Pure GHB. Enough to do some serious damage.” My eyes snapped back to Dominick, grateful he hadn’t drunk any of it. I didn’t know a lot about GHB, only that it was a popular date rape drug.
“You laced my drink with GHB?” Dominick questioned, his voice laced with anger and disbelief.
“What makes you think I did it? I didn’t pour the fucking drink, that bartender you hired did. I only handed you the glass.” She turned to the detectives. “Don’t go trying to pin this shit on me. My fingerprints are on the glass, I touched it and carried it in here, but you can test my fingers, I don’t have no drug on them.”
Oh, my God. She had given this some thought, or watched too many crime show episodes.
“Oh, I don’t question you handed him the glass. I’m certain Mr. Santos would agree you brought him the glass. Your fingerprints aren’t in question here.”
She sat back with a smug smile spreading across her face.
“However, Miss, I would be interested in your left shoe.” The detective held out his gloved hand. “Your shoe, Miss Martucci, or should I say… Mrs. Salluzzo?”
WHEN I WAS A LITTLE boy my father took me to the circus. I’d been so excited to see all of the animals. However, as we passed by a tent, I noticed a sign, which had a hand with crazy writing on it. When I asked my father about it, he said it was someone who would hold your palm and try to tell you your future. He explained how the people who worked in the tent were just trying to take your money. “Dominick, you will learn—if you pay attention—that you can predict most people’s future.”
I watched one of the detectives rub a cotton swab on the heel of Miranda’s shoe, all along the heel and sole. Had she really taken her shoe off and stirred the drug into my glass? I knew where she lived and what she would have walked through to get here, the thought made my stomach start to turn.
“Sir, it’s positive,” the detective said. He was a tall man with his gold badge proudly on display, a shoulder harness holding his Glock, sleeves rolled up, and his latex gloves firmly in place.
Detective Gleason nodded his head turning toward my father. Antonio had been watching the entire process; too, his hand stroking his chin while his eyes darted from the detective to Ari. Detective Gleason was a close friend of my father’s, they had known each other for as long as I could remember.
“Well, Mrs. Salluzzo, you have the right to remain silent—”
“Fuck you!” Miranda screeched while Detective Gleason crossed the room.
“Miranda,” my father interrupted stepping between her and the detective. His arm out, his voice was clipped and held a clear warning. “I want her to hear this,” he said while looking to me, and then to Gleason.
We both nodded, and I glanced over at Ari. I wanted to invite her to join me as my father began to speak. She looked so frightened; I wanted to take that away, let her know she had nothing to fear here. I would protect her with my life.
“You think you’re so fucking smart!” Miranda opened her cunt mouth again, spraying words, which by the look of her gaze, designed for my father. “And you!” she shouted pointing directly at Ari, “Do you think for one second he’s going to be faithful to you? Dominick doesn’t know the meaning of faithful.” Miranda jumped up from the sofa, with at least her lap covered by her dress. “Do you know what kind of man he is? Do you?”
“Shut the fuck up,” my father snarled as he crossed the room with hard steps. “Shut that fucking mouth of yours or I’ll shut it for you!”
Miranda might have been many things, but she wasn’t dumb enough to defy Antonio.
“Now.” Antonio sighed while unbuttoning his suit jacket, his hands smoothing down the sides.
The door of the solarium opened and none other than Alex Gallo walked in. I hadn’t seen or heard from him since the night I’d killed Anthony. My father had assured me he had special plans for him.
“About time you got here,” my father said to Alex.
“I had to make a slight detour,” he responded. His black sunglasses were still resting on the bridge of his nose. Three men took their places behind him while he sat in a chaise lounge just inside the door.
“As I was saying,” Antonio rolled his hand around the air, dismissing any distraction Alex had invented on the way in, “There have been things going on between our families which have received a blind eye.” His eyes were fixed on Alex, but his voice was calm and even. “Let’s take a little trip down memory lane, shall we?” He raised an eyebrow, as if to question if Alex had any objection.
Alex removed his glasses, gesturing for Dad to continue. “Detective Gleason, I know you have worked long and hard on this case, but if you’ll allow me just a few minutes, I promise you, it won’t be a waste of your time.” Antonio didn’t wait for an answer before speaking to Sophia, “Love, you remember when we were first married and I took you to Paris? I showed you that cute little restaurant and said I thought I recognized someone.”
My mother smiled her special smile, which she kept for my father alone. “I remember many things about that trip.” Her mischievous smile made me wish I could cover my ears.
“Well, I did some checking around once you were blissfully asleep that night, and confirmed I had indeed seen who I suspected.” His attention turned to Alex. “Paris is so wonderful in the fall, wouldn’t you agree, Alex?”
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nbsp; Alex’s face remained stoic while he nodded his head in affirmation. “As I recall, it was on that very trip Karla was conceived. Am I right, my love?” His voice was gentle when he addressed my mother, and I prayed my tone was the same when speaking to Ari, words wrapped in love and respect.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but that was also the year Vivian gave birth to Miranda,” my mother added.
“You, my beautiful bride, are correct as usual.” Sophia beamed as if she had just won the lottery, showered in love by my father. “But then, Vivian and Tony started having issues so they sent little Miranda to Switzerland to that boarding school, or at least that’s what they told everyone.” Now my father turned his attention to Miranda. “What really happened was, our little Miranda here became too much like her mother, and so her father sent her to live with his sister in Minnesota.” Miranda’s face dropped, the color draining almost completely. “A few years go by and all seems quiet until, Alex, you decided things weren’t going the way you liked them, and figured joining our Families would benefit us both.”
Alex shifted on the lounge, but still kept his expression sober “Needless to say, I didn’t agree.” Antonio chuckled while meandering over to stand beside Ari. “You see, Ari, in this Family, everyone thinks as long as they do their dirty deeds behind my back, I can’t see them,” he reached out to take her chin in his hand, “But you know what, my dear?” Fear radiating from her, Ari shook her head. Noticing, my father wrapped his arm around her. “I know everything that goes on in my town.”
Stolen Secrets Page 21
