by Renee Rose
“How’s Al?”
“Alive. Are the new numbers loaded on here?”
“Yep.”
“I’ll call a meeting, noon at Paisanos, but if you see anyone before then, tell them I want every shred of evidence we can get that links this to the Matrangas. And they should put the word out that retribution will be swift and merciless.”
“It had better be, or everyone will think you’re not fit to lead,” Sammy warned.
He lifted his eyebrows. “What are you saying?” he demanded.
Sammy shrugged. “Nothing. Just that you’d better show you’re in charge. Make the Matrangas sorry, you know? What?”
His temper snapped and he snatched Sammy up by the collar of his shirt. “You got a question about who’s in charge, here?” he snarled.
For one electrifying moment, he thought Sammy would fight back, breaking chain of command and opening the organization up to chaos. A million thoughts ran through his head--thoughts a boss had, about who would need to be whacked to restore dominance. Who could be cowed through intimidation. Who he could depend on as an ally. And underneath the thoughts, ran the loudest one. He didn’t want any of this. He didn’t want to be in charge.
Sammy held his hands up, leaning his head away from Joey’s bared teeth. “No, I got no question. Of course you’re in charge. Sorry. You know what you’re doing.”
He stared into Sammy’s eyes, wondering just how deep his partner’s resentment toward him ran. Deep enough to blow up his own club? He slowly released his hold on Sammy’s collar, looking at him suspiciously.
“How do you think they got the bomb inside Boom Booms, Sammy?”
Sammy didn’t miss the insinuation and his chest puffed out defensively. “I dunno. If you hadn’t prohibited security cameras from that room, we might already know.”
A chill ran across his forearms, making the hairs stand on end. Maybe Sammy had already been thinking about it. But it sounded like a prepared defense.
He texted the capos about the meeting and stayed with Carmen until dawn, when they finally got word the brain scan looked okay. What remained was for Al to rest in the hospital and wait for him to come out of the coma, presumably when the swelling in his brain eased. He drove Carmen to her home, then fell into bed but he couldn’t sleep, his mind turning over the bombing, looking at it from all angles.
The bomb placement inside his club, in a private room didn’t sit right with him. It hadn’t been a vehicle chassis anyone might access. It pointed at an inside job. It meant it had to have been someone who showed up for poker night, or an employee, or Sammy. So the Matranga organization might have a rat in the group, or it wasn’t the Matranga’s at all. He considered the various motivations there might be to get rid of all five of them--because he and Al should’ve been in there at the time.
He hid his head under the pillow. Everything rode on him figuring it out.
He called the hospital when he woke and learned Al was still in a coma.
At Paisanos he geared up to make a good show because Sammy was right--it was imperative to appear like he had control, had a plan, and was not taking shit from anyone. He owed it to Al to hold the reins firmly until his recovery. And he had no desire to get a bullet in the back of his head from anyone who thought he could lead better.
Two days passed with Al remaining in his coma and no evidence turning up about the bomb. Even though it was like the itch that only becomes worse when scratched, he couldn’t help but take Sophie up on a treatment. It was a chance to see her, and hell, he could use some distraction at the moment.
He drove to her studio, only to find her with gray circles under her eyes and hectic color in her cheeks. He touched the back of his hand to her forehead.
“You’re burning up.”
“Yeah, I might be coming down with something.”
“Might be?” He made a scoffing noise. “What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded.
Her shoulders slumped and a helpless expression appeared on her face. “I just have one client after you and I can go home and rest.”
“Fuck that. Call your client and cancel. I’m taking you home.”
She shook her head stubbornly. “No, I really can’t cancel.” Her eyes slid to an appointment book lying open on her desk. He picked it up. “Come on, let’s go,” he said firmly, opening the door. “Get in the car.”
Either she was sick enough or he was firm enough that she didn’t argue this time, just meekly walked out of the office and stood looking lost as he took her keys to lock up.
“I knew you shouldn’t have stayed at the hospital that night,” he muttered. “You probably caught some nasty virus. And the lack of sleep insured it would take.” He led her to his car and opened the door for her, helping her in and shutting the door.
When he settled behind the wheel, she said, “You don’t have to do this, Joey. You have far too much on your plate to be worrying about me.”
But worrying about her was a total relief after the agony of dealing with the organization that week. And a virus was something he could handle.
He drove her home and opened the door with her key. “I’m making a copy of this key,” he informed her.
“You’re not my boyfriend, Joey.”
“Maybe not, but I’m looking after you, and I need a key.”
She blinked at him, then shrugged her shoulders in defeat. “Do you ever stop pushing?”
He shook his head and led her to the bedroom. “You get in bed, I’ll get you some Tylenol--where is it?”
She groaned. “I don’t keep it.”
“I’ll go get some.”
“No, I mean I don’t use it. I could’ve just popped some Tylenol today to get through the day, but I believe fevers serve a purpose--they burn off the virus.”
He rolled his eyes and sighed. “Right. You’re into holistic healing. Okay...how about some tea?”
She brightened. “Tea would be great. It’s in the second drawer next to the refrigerator.”
“Which kind?”
“Ginger, please,” she said, collapsing on the bed.
She couldn’t believe Joey was tucking her in bed and making her tea when he had a literal war on his hands out on the street. It didn’t make sense.
“Here you go, I put a little honey in it,” he said, returning with a steaming mug of minttea.
“Mmm, thank you.” The tea soothed her swollen tonsils.
He kicked off his shoes and settled next to her on the bed, opening her appointment book and pulling out his cell phone.
“I can do it,” she said reaching for them.
He pulled them out of her reach. “Clearly you need a little help.”
She chewed a fingernail, nervous he might be too curt or say something rude to her client.
“Hello, Darla? Yes, I’m calling for Sophie Palazzo. She is feeling under the weather, so I’m canceling her appointments...Yes, she wouldn’t want you to catch it… of course, of course. Sure, I can reschedule you.” He flipped the pages in her book to the following week. “How about next week at the same time? Okay, great. I have you down. Thank you.”
She stared at him, her jaw hanging open. He grinned. “You didn’t think I had it in me, did you?”
There he went, calling her on her prejudice again.
“I could call her back and tell her she’d better book with you every week or I’ll slash her tires.”
She smacked him with the back of her hand, smiling ruefully. “I just never expected you to play secretary.”
“I prefer to think of myself as your ‘handler,’” he said, straightening his collar.
She laughed, which turned into a fit of coughing.
“I’m canceling tomorrow’s appointments, too.”
She didn’t argue, just cast him a grateful look. “You’re something else, La Torre,” she muttered, snuggling deeper in the covers.
He settled himself next to her, staring up at the ceiling. “I figured out which musical we are.
”
“You did?” she giggled, loving that he actually knew musicals and could use them as metaphor.
“Grease. I’m John Travolta and you’re Olivia Newton John.” He rolled over and looked at her. “You were just sampling a little ‘bad boy’ action with me, weren’t you?”
Her mouth felt dry and she sat back up to sip on the tea again, stalling an answer.
“You never meant me to be the guy you’d settle down with. Not the safe guy you’d love, but the dangerous one who makes your pulse race.”
She felt sweaty and clammy. She wanted to tell him he was wrong, but she couldn’t. He was dead on.
When she didn’t answer he nodded grimly. “I’m the only guy you know who actually would take off his belt and spank a girl for real, not because she wanted me to.”Her already heated face grew even warmer. She couldn’t answer, but it didn’t matter, Joey could already see his words hit home.
He rolled to his back again, staring at the ceiling. “You are something different to me, too. I knew, I just knew right away I wanted you--for keeps. There are things you know in your head and there are things you know from your gut. I knew in my gut you belonged to me.”
The words “you belonged to me” both offended and stirred her. The idea of “belonging to” any man, and especially a dangerous a man like Joey made her core fill with heat.
“I think my gut knows something about you, but my head won’t let me hear it,” she whispered as a confession.
He leaned up on an elbow and stroked her cheek. “Then give it time, little girl. Don’t write us off until you’re sure of the message, okay?”
Tears stung her eyes and she nodded, rolling against his hard body, snuggling in for a cuddle. She fell asleep to his hand stroking lazily up and down her back.
She didn’t wake until the following morning, and found herself alone. The pounding in her head had diminished to a dull ache but her throat was just as sore as it had been the day before. She padded out to the kitchen, screaming when she saw a figure sitting in the easy chair in the living room.
Joey’s head jerked up. “Shh, it’s just me.”
“Have you been here this whole time?”
He shook his head. “Actually I left for few hours last night, but came back to spend the night.”
She wanted to run and crawl into his lap, but they were broken up, and she shouldn’t give mixed messages. Instead she knelt by his feet. He reached for her face and cupped it in his hands. She closed her eyes to savor the comforting feeling.
“Was it my mother who convinced you to break up with me?”
Her eyes flew open. She shrugged, her nose burning with threatened tears. “It wasn’t just her. But yeah, I’m not going to cause trouble for you with the Family. I’m not going to do it.” She gave her head a shake for emphasis.
“You wouldn’t--”
“I would,” she cut in. “I know how my mom felt, because I feel the same way. Joey, I don’t want to raise children in the environment I grew up in. I don’t want to worry about you going to jail or getting killed. And I don’t want to cause tension between you and the family,” her vision went blurry and she tried to pull her face from his hands so she could hide it.
“Come here,” he murmured, pulling her toward him.
Too run down to resist, she obeyed, crawling into his lap, where she’d wanted to be in the first place.
“Don’t leave me, Sophie. We can work this out,” he said, pulling her against his chest and holding her as if he had no intention of ever releasing her. “Just give me some time...we can solve this.”
“Joey, how?” she demanded, her voice raising shrilly. “Is it true you’re acting boss now? I can’t--I won’t--be wife to a crime boss.”
He scowled.
She sighed. “There is no solution. It’s who you are, and it’s who I am and we don’t mesh together.”
“Stop,” he said sharply. “Don’t say that. There’s always a solution. We’ll find a compromise, okay? Just give me a chance. I can figure this out for us.”
Joey La Torre begging. Unflinching, unflappable, unbreakable mafia boss.
“Just don’t leave me,” he whispered.
She swallowed. She’d been lying before. She did know how her gut felt.
She didn’t answer him, just nuzzled her face into his neck, which was better than a “no,” he supposed.
After a while she unwound herself from him and stood up. He sighed and also rose. “I have to get going. I’ll come back and check on you later.”
“That’s not necessary, I’m feeling better. Thanks for making me go to bed--it really helped. How’s Al?”
He shook his head. “No change.”
“How are...things?”
He shook his head again, knowing she meant Family business and not wanting to show her any of the strain he suffered.
“If I’m better tomorrow, I’ll go see Al. Reiki--the energy work I do--is supposed to be good for people in comas. Do you think Carmen would let me?”
“Yeah, baby. That would be really sweet. I’m sure she’d be happy for help in any form.” He leaned over and brushed her lips with his. “Feel better. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“You don’t need to check on me,” she called toward his back but he just waved her comment away. She’d let him back in this far, he was going to run with it.
When he stopped in to visit Al the following afternoon, his mood brightened to see Sophie there, holding her hands six inches from his head as if she were blessing him.
“Are you giving him that energy thing?”
“Reiki. Yeah.”
“Thanks.”
“Carmen told the nurses it would be okay.”
She kept her hands over Al’s head, leaning her cheek forward for a kiss. He took her jaw in his hand and turned her face, catching her lips instead, delivering a soft, exploratory kiss.
“Joey!” she said, a little breathless.
“What?” When she only shook her head, he said, “I know, you’re still pretending we’re broken up.”
She rolled her eyes.
“You owe me dinner, at least,” he pressed.
She made a scoffing sound. “Dinner? Why?” Before he could answer, she conceded, “Okay, I do owe you the massage you never got.”
“That’s right. The massage and dinner. Actually, I’ll take it dinner, then a massage.”
She shook her head, but grinned. “What’s the dinner supposed to be for?”
“For taking care of you when you were sick.”
“Ah, so you had an ulterior motive, eh?”
“Nah,” he said sitting on the side of Al’s hospital bed and peering into his brother’s face. “Any signs from him?”
“His eyelids fluttered when I started the Reiki and his fists uncurled. I think he might feel it.”
He nodded, all the heaviness of worry and responsibility returning. “I’m sure he can.”
One of Al’s eyes was black and the coloring in his face was a gray-green. But Sophie was right; he did seem to like the Reiki, because as they watched, Al sighed and moved his lips, his eyelids opening slightly.
“Thanks for this--I mean it,” Joey said, catching her eye when she looked like she was going to brush off his words.
Her face turned sober as well. “I’m happy to be able to do something.” She looked around the room as if she wanted to say more and he gave a little shake of her head. There was no telling if wires had been planted in his brother’s hospital room--he wouldn’t put it past the Feds.
Finishing her treatment, she picked up her purse to leave.
“I’ll walk you out,” he said.
“You don’t have--” she trailed off as he frowned and continued his walk to the door to escort her. “You are, by far, the pushiest man I have ever met,” she declared.
“Mmm hmm.” He put a hand on the curve of her low back, guiding her out.
When they were outside, she took a breath. “I guess you have a lot
on your shoulders now,” she said, peering up at him.
“Just until Al recovers,” he said firmly. He was not going to be boss permanently, though if Al didn’t recover soon he couldn’t walk away from everyone who depended on him.
“I guess you’re responsible for supporting Vito, Lou and Mario’s families now? That must be a huge burden.”
He frowned. “No. I mean, I’d help out if they were in a pinch, but they should’ve left nest eggs for their families. I’ve been preaching to them all about how to shelter their money so it’s safe for their families no matter what happens. Lord knows, I told them enough.”
Sophie looked confused. “Oh. But the organization takes care of them if not, right?”
He shrugged. “Depends.”
They stopped outside her car. “Is each capo responsible for taking care of his soldier’s families if something happens?”
He frowned. He trusted her--he knew she wouldn’t turn rat on him, but she was asking too many questions. “Sophie,” he said with a note of warning in his voice. “There’s a number of reasons you can’t know details about the organization and I think you probably know all of them.”
“Right. Okay. I apologize,” she held her palms out.
He grasped them and pulled her body against his, tasting her lips before she could protest. “How about tomorrow night for dinner?”
She pursed her lips, but he could see amusement in the way they curved at the edges. He kissed them again and this time she pushed her hands against his to move back.
He refused to release her hands. “Tomorrow night?”
She gave an exaggerated huff. “Okay, tomorrow night.”
He stole one more quick peck. “You won’t be sorry,” he promised, opening her door.
“I already am.” She climbed in the car and gave him a wry grin. “See you tomorrow.”
“Good night. And thanks again for working with Al,” he said in all seriousness.
She shrugged. “I hope it helps.”
He walked back inside, needing to be alone with Al, even though he was unconscious. He needed to figure out what his brother would do--what he’d want him to do.
He walked in and announced, “I’m back,” as if Al might answer. His eyelids fluttered, as they’d been doing when Sophie worked on him. When they blinked open, he rushed to his brother’s side. “Al? Can you hear me?”
