Ruthless: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance

by Lauren Landish

  "So what happened?" I asked.

  "Johnny got word that there was a cop in town, an FBI agent, to be exact, who maybe was working for some of the Bertoli enemies on the side. The cops and the Bertolis have never had a friendly relationship, but there was one rule that Johnny Bertoli had that was ironclad. The Bertolis don't target the cops unless the cops are working for the competition. The cops in Seattle, they can either be clean, or they can be dirty with the Bertolis, but they’re not allowed to be dirty with other groups. The problem was, it was rumor more than anything else. There was nothing concrete that Johnny could go on."

  "So he approached your father," I said.

  Dante nodded again. "I was lucky. It was the first time that Johnny Bertoli had actually come to our house instead of the other way around. Of course, at the time, we didn’t know why he was coming to our house, but Dad was so proud anyway. I remember being dressed in my Sunday best when Johnny drove up in the classic Ferrari that he had. He'd come alone, which I guess tipped Dad off to the nature of the visit. 'After you introduce yourself to Don Bertoli, you need to go to your room. Watch some Yu-Gi-Oh, and afterward, you and I can play a game.' I remember his words like it was yesterday.”

  "But, in any case, after I got to shake hands with Mr. Bertoli, Dad shooed me out. I was too curious though, and instead of going all the way back to my room, I hung out, just in the shadows past the door to the hallway, listening. 'Bobby, I've got a big mission that I can only trust you with,' Johnny told him, the two of them sitting on the couch. 'It's dangerous.'

  “His next words I didn’t completely understand at the time, but I swear it’s the truth. ‘I need you to become a rat,' Johnny said, laying out his plan. Basically, Dad was to approach this suspected FBI agent as a potential informant. It was dangerous, but it was effective too. If the guy was truly dirty, then he wouldn't report Dad to the FBI. After all, he was trying to play two sides at the same time. But if he was clean, then Dad was revealing himself to a clean FBI agent, and of course, something would come of it.”

  I shivered, knowing the implications. "Your father took the mission."

  "He did," Dante said, his voice catching. "Johnny promised him that if it came to light that the FBI agent was dirty, Johnny would protect Dad's rep and reveal the plan, but we also knew that if the agent was clean, it may never happen. After Johnny left, Dad sat on the couch for a while before calling me back in. He knew I was listening.”

  "Was he mad?"

  Dante shook his head. "The first thing he did was pull me into a hug, which was rare because he was never really the affectionate type, at least not with me. That time he pulled me close, burying his chin in the top of my head before kissing me on the forehead. He made me promise to never repeat what I heard.”

  "Of course I agreed, and even though I didn’t say anything, I knew he was in danger.”

  Dante fell silent, his breathing catching for a while, and he wiped at his face. "For the next six months, by all outer appearances, Dad went about his normal work. I mean, I was too young to know all the details, but he still left the house to go to work at the same time, and still got home long after I went to sleep. But he was always there in the mornings, and we'd have breakfast together before Mom would take me to school. Still, I could feel that things were changing. For one, his hair started to go gray in spots, and he seemed to drink a little more than he would before. He started keeping a journal, which was strange for him because I knew that in that line work, one doesn't keep written records. One time I snuck a peak, and at the time I couldn't understand most of what was written in there. I figured out, far too late, that it was in a code."

  I shivered, trying to imagine the stress that both Dante and his father must have been going through. "What did it say?"

  "Most of it was a list of times that he met with the agent, locations, stuff like that. I still don't have it all figured out, but I got enough of it to know what the hell he was into."

  "Which was?"

  "The agent was working with the Bertoli enemies, specifically the Russians. The same family that supposedly killed Daniel Neiman's parents, in an accident where they thought that his parents were working for the Bertolis. In fact, they just happened to operate a business that Carlo Bertoli happened to frequent a lot, a flower shop that stocked his wife's favorite bouquet."

  I swallowed, wondering just how intertwined Dante had been in the whole Bertoli history that I'd learned, and what holes he could fill in on the gaps I didn't know. "So your father learned the truth."

  "He did," Dante said thickly. "He was going to reveal it all to Johnny, call in the cavalry, when the agent came to our house. Mom was out, she had a part time job that she kept I think mainly because she hated being just a housewife, and it was just me and Dad. We were watching a late season Sonics game. This was back when they were still in town. We were relaxing, and a knock came at the door. Dad got up to answer it, totally not expecting what was going to happen. I was sitting on the couch when he opened the door, and suddenly, five shots filled the room. Dad was blown back, dead before he even hit the floor, I think. I jumped behind the couch, and I could hear the guy. 'Check for the kid,' a man said to someone. 'They've got a boy.'"

  "Jesus, what did you do?" I asked, terrified. "How'd you survive?"

  Dante chuckled mirthlessly. "I ran like hell is what I did. It was a summer night, and Dad liked to leave the back door open when it was just the two of us. He'd grilled some burgers for us that night, and the breeze carried in the smell of the mesquite charcoal that he liked to use. So I ran, vaulting the railing of the deck and hauling ass over the fence before they could get to me. Someone yelled after me, but I was a pretty good climber at that age, and I got over the neighbor's fence before anything else happened. That, and we lived in a good neighborhood, one that never expected a mobster to be living among them. The Seattle cops responded in what was probably record time for them. Purely by luck, they had a patrol car in the area when the 911 call came in. It was enough time for the dirty agent to plant a gun on Dad and put a round through it, and the cops bought the story. Me, I knew better than to say anything, and I never even told Mom."

  "Why?" I asked, perplexed. "Why not clear your father's name?"

  "Because the day before he got shot, my Dad and I went up to the Bertoli mansion. It was the last time I was there before the night you and I met. He and Johnny talked, and it was loud enough that someone could have overheard. They were pretty open by the pool, discussing things. Johnny thought he was safe in his own house. But the very next day, Dad was shot, and a few months after that . . . Johnny was killed too. The dirty agent was transferred out of Seattle to the Los Angeles field office after Dad's shooting, and soon after that, he was found dead too. Everything told me one thing, that the Bertolis had a rat inside their ranks. I never knew who, and I never even knew if the rat ever got cleared out. Even now, who knows? It could be anyone. All it would take would be one overheard word, or one friend talking to another friend."

  "Then why go back in a situation like that?” I asked.

  "Because my father died without his honor, and come hell or high water, I was going to get my family's honor back," Dante said, his voice trembling with intensity. "But I could barely get a foot in the door. Things just kept going wrong. I think I was just trying too hard. So I was stuck in limbo, not respected but unable to do much about it. When Mom died I reached out to the Bertolis, but every step forward seemed to be met by a step back. That was, until I met you. It's why I made a decision."

  "What's that?" I asked.

  Dante took a deep breath and took my hand. “Meeting you has been the best thing to happen to me in years, and because of you, because you've taught me to let go a little bit, to go with the flow and to be myself more, I've been more successful than ever. Because of that, I'm not going to hide who I am anymore. And I hope we continue the whole dance thing. I promise, next competition, no matter what, we're going to recreate that magic we had, and we're g
oing to so kick so much ass they won't know what hit them."

  I felt a warmth inside me, and a smile spread across my face. “You know, I'm just as mentally fucked up as you are, maybe more. So if I ever screw up, you tell me. Because the one thing I've learned during this preparation is that you are a lot like your father, and I mean that as a compliment. I put you through hell, physically and a bit mentally as well, but you kept coming back for more. You're the type of man who does his job, and the world needs more men like you. I need a man like you."

  The meaning of my words hung in the air, and as if drawn by magnets, we came closer, until we were just a finger's breadth apart. We paused, trembling on the edge of something powerful and life changing, both of us smiling, when suddenly my phone rang. "Damn phone," I said, not moving. "What should I do?"

  "I'm not going anywhere," Dante said with chuckle. "Go ahead and grab it. Who knows, maybe it's Jennifer Lopez."

  I rolled my eyes and answered my phone. "Hello."

  The voice on the other end was unfamiliar, but instantly friendly. "Hi, Miss Esperanza? This is Bonnie Fredericks, of the AADP? I'm the event coordinator for the Las Vegas Regionals you competed in."

  "Oh, hello Miss Fredericks. What can I do for you?"

  “Actually I was calling about something else. You placed fourth in the ballroom competition.”

  “We did. My partner and I were just discussing that when you called."

  "Oh, that's great, your partner is right there so you don't have to wait to share the news with him. Would you mind putting me on speaker phone then?"

  Surprised and confused, I took the phone away from my ear and tapped the button to put it on speaker. "She wants it on speaker," I explained to Dante, who nodded in understanding. "Go ahead, Miss Fredericks."

  "Okay," her voice came over the speaker, slightly distorted because of the cheap quality of my phone. "Well, as you know from the rules of the competition, no couple is eligible to compete if they have worked professionally before."

  "Yes, we cleared that with your competition committee," I said, thinking about my past. "They said that solo exotic dancing wasn’t a disqualification."

  "That's correct, but being a paid part of a dance troupe in a Meghan Trainor music video is cause for disqualification."

  "Huh?" Dante interrupted. “I can assure you, neither of us have been in any music video, let alone one by Meghan Trainor."

  "You weren't, but the third place team, the Pedersen twins, were," Fredericks said. "The information was brought to our attention by some AADP fans soon after the results were posted. In any case, the Pedersens have been disqualified, and the standings adjusted accordingly. We wanted to get in contact with you before too much time passed and you may have gotten out of the competition mindset."

  "Wait, what are you saying?" Dante asked. “Use simple words, I'm somewhat sleep-deprived."

  "Mr. Degrassi, congratulations. You and Miss Esperanza are now the third place team from the Las Vegas Regionals, and in eight weeks, will be competing at the Nationals at Madison Square Garden. That is, if you accept the invitation."

  "Oh, we accept, we accept!" I yelled, trying not to jump up and down. I looked at Dante, who shot to his feet and pulled me with him, lifting me up and spinning me around in his excitement. Fredericks could hear our celebration, and she hummed happily before interrupting.

  "Okay. Well, the national office will get in contact with you one week from today with the information about the Nationals. That'll give you seven weeks to prepare for the compulsory and the wildcard rounds. May I say, as one of your judges for the showcase round, you did a tremendous job, but it could use some improvement. Keep working on it, and make the Las Vegas Region proud."

  After she hung up, Dante hugged me again, having not set me down the entire time. "Come on," he said, setting me down. "Let's finished getting our stuff unpacked, the costumes hung up and ready for pressing, and then, I'm going to take you out on a date. Not dessert, but a real date."

  I hugged him back, and kissed him on the cheek. "That, Mr. Degrassi, sounds like a wonderful plan. But, let me call Adriana first. She thinks we ended up in fourth still."

  "That's fine," Dante said. "I should report in to Tomasso this afternoon anyway, just to fill him in on some stuff that happened in Vegas. Now, last time I screwed up picking the restaurant, so how about this time you do it? I've got no qualms going anywhere with you, even if it's the Chinese place two doors down."

  "Then let’s do that," I said with a laugh. "They've got great moo goo gai pan."

  Chapter 17

  Dante

  "Congrats on the Nationals," Tomasso greeted me as we met under the Space Needle. "Sorry I had to ask you to meet out here, but I figured with you having a date tonight, it would save time, with where I was this morning."

  "How'd you know about that?" I asked, then just shook my head. "Never mind, I know how. Carmen to Adriana, to Luisa, to you?"

  "You make it sound complicated," Tomasso said with a laugh. "But still, congrats. How was Vegas?"

  "It was less fun than the last time I went, but more magical," I replied, the two of us turning and walking toward the park that was near the Space Needle. "Sorry if that sounds mushy."

  "I don't hold it against you. But you wouldn't have called me just to tell me about a dance competition. What's going on?"

  "While I was at the Marriott, I ran into a friend of the family, a Peter Malone whose group is in control of the management at the JW Marriott. He seemed surprised that I came into town without him being notified."

  "Malone?" Tomasso said, surprised. He stopped, tapping at his chin. “He isn't in charge of the Marriott. When I heard the competition was in Vegas, I called down there personally, just to be sure. The JW is totally open. It's a regular corporation, nothing Malone's crew is involved with at all."

  "Well, according to him he is," I continued. "There wasn't any major beef, his muscle-bound simpleton seemed to be trying to start something, but that was it. It just surprised me that I'd make any waves going into Vegas."

  "You'd be surprised," Tomasso said, smiling tightly. "You've done a lot of good work over the past few months. And it seems our group is getting noticed. You might find yourself having to be more careful when you leave Seattle from now on, making sure it's cleared through my family. But that's beside the point. Malone approached you inside the Marriott?"

  "Right on the casino floor," I said. "I was next to the blackjack tables when I saw a couple of men with unfriendly expressions looking me over. I figured to stay next to the tourists, you know, and he just approaches me directly. Who is he, anyway?"

  "He's with the Malone family, one of the Jewish families that are old time Vegas," Tomasso said. "I've met him once I think, but the Malones were never big players in Vegas, not since the days of Bugsy and his crew. They had their little operation, kept it going, and stayed out of everyone's hair. But this . . . I need to make a few phone calls. I hate to ask, but can you keep your phone on you tonight? While you were gone, we got some more information on the Gatos, and I might need your help with something."

  "I'll have it on me. I know you won't call unless there's an emergency," I replied. "Thanks, Tomasso."

  He offered his hand, and we shook. Instead of letting go, Tomasso kept my hand in his grip. "One more thing," he said, still not letting go but not squeezing. "Later on, when you have time, I'd like to take a look at a notebook you apparently may have. I don't know the contents, but Carmen felt it necessary to say something to Adriana. If what might be in there is true, I think my family owes you a big apology."

  I swallowed, and shook Tomasso's hand again. "Thank you . . . boss."

  "Now go get ready for your date. I promise you, if you have another bad date with Carmen, I'm going to have you scrubbing toilets at the mansion for the next two months," Tomasso said with a laugh. "Get going!"

  "So you're not mad that I told Adriana?" Carmen asked, as we sat down in the restaurant. I'd expected a che
ap diner style place, Dreamstyle Dance wasn't exactly in the best strip mall in town, but instead the inside had an intimate, if slightly dated air, with tall horseshoe shaped mini-booths lining two of the walls. We'd been seated there, the owner giving Carmen a smile and a thumbs up as he left. Apparently, they were friends. "That I said something about your story."

  I shook my head. “I kind of wish I’d have been there, but no, I’m not. I realize that you have other people that are closer to you than actual family. If I want to try to see where things between us can go, then I need to accept that you're going to share things with Adriana and Luisa. You just can’t tell them that I wore women’s underwear underneath my dance tuxedo."

  Carmen laughed at my stupid joke, then sobered. “Things between us?”

  "Well, yeah," I replied, rolling the dice. "Isn't that what we've kind of been doing for months now? I mean, if you can call two screwed up dates, a very strange dance competition, and . . ."

  "And one bout of very intimate and mind-blowing sex?" Carmen offered, and I grinned. "Okay, I can see your point of view there. I guess we have been doing more than dancing.”

  “Excuse me, Carmen. Are you ready to order?" the waitress said, pausing our conversation.

  "Friend of yours?" I asked, giving the waitress a smile.

  "Lin and I have shared a cup of tea from time to time," Carmen said with a grin. "But I think we need a minute, what do you say?"

  "Hmmm, I guess so then. Actually though, I’m a bit hungry. Do you guys have good wontons or maybe dim sum?"

  "Best damn dim sum in the city," Lin said with a touch of pride. "You want pork or beef?"

  "Beef, thank you." Lin noted my request and left, and I turned back to Carmen. "Seriously, this dinner is going to be whatever we want to order. Considering the occasion, I say that if we want to do the lobster stir fry, we go lobster stir fry."