Clean Slate (New Mafia Trilogy #2)

by E. J. Fechenda

  “Shit, I bet that’s Gio’s guy. You two stay up here…and Natalie, I hope Dom doesn’t do something fucking stupid that gets him killed.”

  Grant left on that note, leaving me even more bereft at the realization Dom might do something crazy; reacting based on emotion and not logic. Chelsea hugged me again, her body absorbed my shaking and her shirt soaked up my tears.

  “Shhh, it will be okay,” she said over and over again in a soothing tone. Eventually I quieted down and my focus was drawn to the murmur of voices downstairs. Curiosity won out so Chelsea and I crept to the top of the stairs for a listen. Grant and another man were talking in the kitchen, but their voices carried.

  “Dom had to leave early to catch his flight. Here’s my gun and his. Thank Gio again for letting us borrow them.”

  “He’s a reasonable guy and wants to protect his investment. Speaking of which, where’s the girl?”

  “Natalie is upstairs.”

  Footsteps on the tile alerted us to their approach and we started to move back from the top of the stairs where we were eavesdropping, but didn’t move fast enough. A man, just as tall and as muscular as Dominic came into view. He had black hair that skimmed the top of his shoulders. Each arm was covered with brightly colored tattoos that disappeared underneath the sleeves of his black t-shirt. When he looked up the stairs at us, I noticed the piercing in his eyebrow. A silver stud winked at me in the light coming in from the glass surrounding the front door.

  “Who is that?” Chelsea asked. I glanced over at her and saw she was eyeing this man appreciatively.

  “Hi Natalie,” the man said. His dark eyes locked on mine leaving no doubt he already knew who I was. “I need to talk to you.”

  I looked over at Grant who stood behind this man and he nodded. With a quick wipe to my face, removing any lingering tears, I stood up and made my way down the stairs. Chelsea crept along behind me, practically glued to my back.

  The man followed my progress with his thin lips twisted into a smirk that did nothing to quell my nerves. He met me at the bottom of the stairs. He was taller than Grant and Dom and towered over me. “I’m Victor, your own personal bodyguard.” He held his hand out and I noticed the tattoo on the inside of his wrist said “no mercy” in a fancy script.

  Hesitantly, I placed my hand in his. “What does that entail exactly?” I asked.

  “It means until your boys take care of business with Marco, you’re going to be seeing a lot of me.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Afraid so, Princess.” He smiled at me, flashing large white teeth.

  “This isn’t necessary. Is it?” I asked Grant.

  “Yes it is. Until Marco is dead the contract for your hit is active.”

  “But, I told Dom not to kill Marco – he can’t kill a family member!”

  “Is this true?” Victor turned to face Grant. When he did, I noticed tattoos crawled up his neck too. “Is the deal off? Gio won’t be happy.”

  “No, it’s not true. Our arrangement stands.” A sheen of perspiration formed on Grant’s upper lip. One of his few tells letting me know he was nervous.

  “Good.”

  Grant looked at his phone. “Shit, I gotta get going. Thanks for keeping an eye on my sister.” He shook Victor’s hand before turning to me and giving me a hug. “Please do as Victor says – he’ll keep you safe. I’ll be in touch.”

  “Please be careful, I only have one brother. Love ya, bro.” I held onto him tighter than usual, knowing this could be the last time I’d see him.

  “I love you too.”

  He gave me one final squeeze before letting go. After giving Chelsea a quick hug, he grabbed his bag and opened the front door.

  We followed him out and stood in the driveway. There were grooves in the gravel from where Dominic had peeled out. Grant put his bag in the backseat before sliding in behind the steering wheel. He waved once before backing up to do a k-turn, then he was gone. A black Harley, its chrome sparkling in the sun, was the only vehicle in the driveway and that’s when I realized Chelsea and I were stuck, dependent on Jason to get back to our apartment.

  “So who’s your friend?” Victor asked.

  “I’m Chelsea Reed, Natalie’s roommate. Are you a professional bodyguard or something?”

  Victor laughed. “Not professionally, no, but people around here know not to mess with me.”

  “Are you an enforcer like Grant and Dom?”

  “Chelsea, enough with the twenty questions, we need to figure out how we’re going to get home.”

  “Jason will come get us.”

  I knew he would, but really didn’t want to take advantage of our fragile friendship.

  “I need to make arrangements with Natalie. I’ll take her home. This way I can check and make sure your apartment is secure.”

  “You want me to ride on the back of that?” I pointed at the motorcycle, which looked just as intimidating as its owner.

  “Don’t worry, Princess, it’s my job to protect you, not turn you into road rash.”

  “That is so reassuring,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “Besides, who are you protecting me from if you guys aren’t going to carry out the hit in your own territory?”

  “It’s an open contract. Someone from Chicago or Miami could find out you’re here and decide to come collect. Or someone else from Philly who is seeking favor from Marco.”

  “What are the odds of that happening?”

  “I’d say there’s a 50/50 chance. It’s happened before. The Chicago family has been known to send people overseas to take care of snitches on the run in Europe. You’re part of a business deal and Gio wants to ensure nothing happens to you since your life is the motivating factor for Dominic and Grant in carrying out their end of the deal.”

  Great, Victor’s little speech did nothing to inspire faith that all was well in my world. Basically, there was fifty percent chance I could get shot again and I was just a pawn on the great chessboard of organized crime.

  Chelsea had been listening to the conversation and based on her expression, she was just as thrilled. “Victor, is Chelsea going to be safe?”

  “You’re the one people want, Natalie. Chelsea has better odds than you, but someone could use her to get to you.” Victor looked at Chelsea. “Sorry sweetie, just being up front here.”

  “Oh God, Chels, I’m so sorry. I’ll move out.”

  “Nat, don’t be ridiculous.” She pulled me into a hug then whispered in my ear. “I’m with you on this and I’m willing to take the risk.”

  I started to cry. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  “Princess, it’s not as bad as it sounds. As far as contracts go, yours isn’t big enough to warrant any outside interest. If Marco was offering $100,000, then that would be a different story. Also, if he finds out you’re here, he can send someone directly. I’m confident with our sources around the area that we’ll hear about any new arrivals.”

  “Grant did say that Gio already knew he and Dom were in town.”

  “We have eyes everywhere. Now, are you ready to go?”

  “No, I have to pack,” I said and went inside.

  After hastily stuffing my crap into the duffel bag, I looked around the room to make sure I didn’t leave anything behind and went downstairs. Chelsea was back in the kitchen with a fresh cup of coffee.

  “I called Jason and he’s on his way to pick me up.”

  “Okay, do you mind bringing my bag?” Victor’s bike was forcing me to travel light.

  “Of course not - I’ll see you soon.”

  Walking over, I gave Chelsea a hug. “I’m glad you’re here,” I said before pulling away.

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  Victor was already on his bike and it thundered to life below him. He had a matte black helmet on and his hair stuck out beneath. Hearing me approach on the gravel, he twisted on his seat and handed me a helmet. This one was bright pink.

  “Victor, you didn’t strike me as a
guy who likes to wear pink.”

  He laughed and shook his head, “So glad you’re a smart ass. I was beginning to think you were going to be nothing but mopey and serious all of the time. I like to keep a spare helmet for the ladies,” he said with a suggestive grin.

  I chose to ignore him. After securing the helmet by tightening the chin strap, I looked at the tiny backseat behind Victor, trying to determine how to actually get on the damn thing.

  “Have you ever ridden bitch before?”

  “Excuse me?” I asked with my hands on my hips.

  Victor laughed again. “Have you ever ridden on the back of a bike?”

  “No. In Philly I usually take a cab or the subway.”

  “Okay, Princess. Put your left foot on this rest here,” he gestured to a chrome pedal with a black rubber grip. “Step on that and swing your leg over the back of the bike. Lean on me all you want. Once we’re in motion, hold on to me and move in the same direction I move.”

  He made it sound so easy and I’d like to say that I gracefully mounted the bike on the first try, but I didn’t. On my third attempt, and after putting Victor’s shoulders in a death grip, my ass was finally in the seat. Vibrations rumbled through my entire body and I wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing my face against his back, as he righted the bike and eased it forward.

  Once he was clear of the gravel, Victor accelerated and the bike roared, taking off in a streak. I screamed into his t-shirt and held on tight enough to restrict his breathing. He chuckled, the vibrations from his chest blended in with the other vibrations wracking my body.

  After a few turns and bends in the road where I moved as one with Victor, I relaxed and loosened my hold. Sitting up a little straighter, I took in our surroundings. The Pacific Ocean stretched out on our right, sunlight glinting off the calm waves. Traffic whipped past, stirring up dust on the road. I quickly learned to keep my mouth shut when a gritty film formed on my front teeth. In the side view mirror I caught a glimpse of my hair trailing out behind me like a cape. The wind on my eyes made them water, so I closed them and rested my head against the firm expanse of Victor’s back, right between his shoulder blades. I wasn’t entirely comfortable with the intimacy of our positions, especially since every time Victor stopped when traffic jammed I slid forward, which forced my crotch against the small of his back.

  The closer we got to my apartment, the heavier traffic became. At one point we were just inching along and it got hot being exposed to the glaring sun with the helmet trapping all sorts of heat and from being so close to Victor.

  Finally we arrived at the apartment complex. I dismounted on shaky legs and the nerve endings in my ass cheeks continued to vibrate. I handed the helmet back to Victor and he tucked it into a saddlebag. Shaking my hair loose, I attempted to run my fingers through it, but they kept getting snagged in tangles so I gave up. Victor scanned the parking lot before following me up the stairs.

  Once inside, I gave him the grand tour of our 780 square foot box. He noted there was only one entrance. Chelsea’s bedroom featured a single window which had a two story drop to a culvert that ran behind our building.

  “Do you own a gun?” Victor asked.

  “No.” I remembered the last time I held a gun, the cold weight of it in my hand and the recoil as I pulled the trigger. Then I remembered the man I shot and started shaking. I took a couple deep breaths and focused on clearing the thoughts from my head.

  Victor looked at me with a raised eyebrow, but didn’t inquire about my reaction. Instead he continued with his questioning. “Have you ever taken any self-defense classes?”

  “No.” Flashes of Mr. Genovese back handing me and tossing me across the room invaded my thoughts then. Closing my eyes, I took a few more deep breaths, which only made me lightheaded. I started to sway, but Victor caught my elbow, steadying me. “Is it going to come to that? To me defending myself?” I asked, taking a seat on the futon.

  Victor sat down next to me. “Judging by your reactions, I think it’s already come to that.”

  I nodded, but didn’t divulge any details.

  “And the outcome?”

  “I’m still here, aren’t I?” I said with a shaky laugh. “Honestly, I think luck had everything to do with it.” I glanced over at Victor. He was reclined back on the futon with an arm slung across the top of the cushion and his long legs stretched out before him. Even in this semi-relaxed state he gave off a “don’t fuck with me” vibe: a combination of his muscular build, tattoos, piercings and overall dark presence. I didn’t have any of those advantages and needed to learn how to protect myself.

  “Victor, do you own a gun?”

  He looked at me and let out a low chuckle. “Is the Pope Catholic? I’m an enforcer, of course I have one.” Leaning forward, he rolled up his jeans to reveal a gun secured in a holster wrapped around the top of his black boot.

  “Can you teach me how to shoot?”

  Victor raised his eyebrows in surprise. “That’s really not part of the deal.”

  “Please? I need to feel empowered. I’ve been in a situation where my protector was incapacitated and I want to be prepared in case that ever happens again. Besides, we’re going to be spending some time together, right?”

  “What the hell happened in Philly? Jesus. Alright, fine. I’ll teach you to shoot, Princess.”

  “Thank you! And why do you call me that?”

  “What, Princess?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, if Dom is successful in taking out Marco, he’ll be taking over as the new Don. Since you’re his girl, you’re practically royalty.”

  “I’m not his girl. Not anymore anyway.” I felt the tears dampen my cheeks before I realized I was crying. Just then the front door opened. Chelsea and Jason walked into the apartment. Upon seeing me, Chelsea dropped her bag and rushed over, sitting down between me and Victor, creating a barrier.

  “What did you say to her?” She barked at Victor who raised his hands in surrender.

  “He didn’t, Chels. We were just talking about Dominic.”

  “Oh.” Her face softened with understanding and her posture became less defensive.

  Jason walked into the room carrying my duffle bag. My back pack was slung over his shoulder. “So it’s done?” he asked, warily eyeing up Victor.

  “Yes, it’s done.”

  After setting my bags down on the floor by the coffee table he stepped forward, “Hey, I’m Jason,” he said and stuck his hand out for Victor who introduced himself.

  “He’s going to be keeping an eye on me until things blow over,” I told Jason.

  He didn’t look too happy about that idea. “Can I talk to you?”

  I stood up and we walked down the hall to Chelsea’s bedroom. Jason shut the door behind us. “Are you okay? Are you safe with that guy?”

  “I’m sad about Dominic, that’s why I was crying. Victor is going to protect me and it’s reassuring knowing he has my back.” I didn’t mention the shooting lessons. I wanted to keep that between me and Victor.

  “Okay, as long as you’re alright with it.” He smiled and stepped closer, cupping my cheek with his hand. “I just worry about you.” He moved in even more like he was going to kiss me and I took a step back, breaking contact. His arm dropped to his side.

  “Jason, I can’t. It’s too soon. Things need to be platonic between us.”

  “I’m sorry, you’re right. You need time.” He turned and opened the bedroom door. “I’m heading out, but I’ll call you later.”

  “Okay, thanks for understanding.” He hid his disappointment well, but not completely. Before he left I saw the way his shoulders dropped slightly and a flash of emotion passed across his eyes, like a shadow.

  I stepped out of the bedroom and walked back to the living room just as Jason was closing the front door. Chelsea and Victor were on opposite ends of the futon.

  “Nat, you need your own reality show with all the drama in your life,” Chelsea teased. I stuck my ton
gue out at her and sat down in the middle of the futon.

  “So Victor, or can I call you Vic, what’s the plan?” I asked.

  “Victor is what I prefer. I’ll need a general idea of what your schedule is like and a list of the places you frequent the most. I’m not going to be watching you all of the time. I still have clients I need to see, but my schedule is flexible so I can devote more time.”

  “Clients? What do you do?” Chelsea asked.

  Victor stretched his arms out in front of him, putting his tattoos on full display. There were a lot of skulls, some demonic looking creature and on his left forearm was a familiar word: Famiglia. It was in a black cursive font with a red outline. Dominic had the same word tattooed on his shoulder. “I’m a tattoo artist and have my own shop. I have an exclusive client list so I don’t have to stay there and drum up work like my employees do.”

  “How exclusive?” Chelsea asked.

  “A-List.”

  Chelsea looked impressed and I noticed she had loosened up considerably around Victor. “Do they know you are…you know?”

  “Yeah some of them do. People need favors. Gio likes to make deals. Some get in a bind with drugs or money. Sometimes they need a person extricated from their lives.”

  “Holy shit!” Chelsea’s blue eyes were huge, but not with fear, only sheer curiosity. “Like who? Do you have any stories?”

  “Chelsea!” I hissed, wanting to clamp my hand over her mouth.

  “I do, Blondie, but none that I’m going to tell you.”

  “Seriously Chelsea, you’re better off not knowing. You can live vicariously through my experiences.”

  “Care to share those stories, Princess?” Victor regarded me with interest. I didn’t know how much Dom and Grant had revealed to him or what he already heard from other sources, so I kept my mouth shut. Only a few people knew that Dom and Grant took out Mr. Genovese and that I killed another enforcer.

  “Maybe some other time,” I said.

  “Okay, but I do plan on hearing them.” Victor stood and asked to program his phone number into my cell. I pulled it out of the front pocket of my backpack and handed it to him. “A throwaway phone – that’s good for not being traced. Did your brother teach you that?”