Mine (Citrione Crime Family #2)

by Penelope Bloom

  “And the kids?”

  Vince answers this time. “By this time next year I will be retired and on good terms. Without going into too much detail, I’ve been taking steps for years now to be less involved and pass more burden along to my men. I’ve also done what I can to make our business more legitimate.”

  “I didn’t think you could ever leave the lifestyle. That’s how it works in the movies, at least,” I say, feeling stupid.

  “It depends. I’m in a position to leave. Damian is in a different position from me. When he walked away from the family, he walked away from its protection too. He has enemies, and he may have some ghosts to put to rest before he can completely walk away, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s willing to do it. I know he cares about you and he has always been two things, reckless and loyal. There may be some fireworks before it’s all over, but I think he’ll find a way to make a life for you and the baby.”

  “Bad news,” says Franklin through the phone.

  I’m standing in the waiting area to be let in to see Damian. The place is crowded and I have to plug my other ear with a finger to hear him clearly.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “Is there a TV nearby?”

  “Yes,” I say. The news is playing, and a blonde newscaster holding a stack of papers is talking to the camera, but I can’t hear it. A few seconds later the image flashes to a video of Damian being led into a police car in handcuffs. The graphic at the bottom reads “Biggest Mafia Murder Of The Century”.

  “You see it?” he asks.

  “What does this mean?” I ask. My heart is pounding and I feel like I can’t get a full breath of air. It all suddenly feels even more real, more permanent.

  “It means even Greg probably can’t just throw his weight into the case to get us off the hook anymore. It’s still possible, but it’s going to take more finesse now. I’m working on something, so don’t panic. Just keep your head down and I’ll be in touch, okay? Don’t do anything reckless.”

  He hangs up the phone and I look back at the TV. They are showing footage of crime tape on the dock and the body bags being carried to ambulances. It feels like forever before my name is called to go to the visitation room.

  Damian waits on the other side of the glass, phone in hand. I sit down grabbing the phone and looking hard into his eyes, trying to see if he knows or not yet. Something in his look tells me he knows. But he smiles.

  “I have a surprise,” says Damian.

  I give him a puzzled look as a guard motions for me to stand and follow him to a door at the edge of the room. Damian gets up, walking in the same direction on the other side of the glass.

  I’m led into a hallway and then into a small closet. The guard motions for me to wait while he goes to let Damian out of the visitation room and into the closet with me.

  Damian claps the guard on the shoulder, grinning. “I owe you one, Hank.”

  Hank glances over his shoulder. “Five minutes.”

  The door closes and we’re bathed in absolute darkness. “What’s happen—” I try to ask, but Damian’s mouth crashes against mine. His hands roam me, driving up my shirt and cupping my breasts. He grabs my thigh and pulls my leg around his hips, pressing his hard cock into me. I gasp, throwing my head back as he kisses my neck. I can’t see anything, but the deprivation of sight is making all the sensations more vivid.

  I reach down and help him pull my pants and panties down half-way. He doesn’t wait for me to get them all the way off, turning me around so my cheek is pressed to the wall. I hear a ruffle of clothing and then a split second later he spits. Warm, wet fingers lubricate my entrance. He presses his cock into me with no hesitation, filling me so completely that I cry out.

  “Fuck. I needed this,” he grunts, still pumping himself in me furiously.

  “God. Don’t stop,” I gasp.

  His pelvis slaps against my bare ass, my pussy already wet and slick against him. The ferocity of it has me already edging close to a climax. I feel the building sensation growing between my legs, turning into something warm that sends tendrils of pleasure through my whole body. I’m gasping so loud that people in the hallway must hear, but I don’t care.

  He kisses my neck, hot breath buffeting my skin. His strong hands grip me by the hips as he pulls my ass hard against his cock with each thrust, making sure every last inch of him is inside me.

  “I’m going to cum,” I moan. “God, it’s so good.”

  He grunts, moving even faster until my world is a blur of sensation and ecstasy. I reach back, gripping his bare, firm ass. Feeling it flex and relax as he moves into me puts me over the edge. I cover my mouth with my other hand, screaming against my palm.

  “Fuck!” he growls, slamming into me and folding his body over mine as his cock jolts, spraying heat inside me.

  A few seconds later there’s a knock at the door. He helps me pull my pants up and pulls his own up quickly. I’m glad I wore dark jeans, because I can already feel his cum soaking through my panties and into my jeans.

  The door opens and Hank grins. “Hope you had enough time.” He leads Damian back first to the visitation room and then me. I’m still weak in the legs as the last traces of my orgasm wash over my body. It feels surreal, walking into the room of sad spouses and family members like nothing just happened. I know my hair must be a mess, and if anyone cared to pay enough attention it would be obvious what just happened, but I don’t care. If everything doesn’t fall together perfectly, that may be the last time I ever get to be with Damian, and I want to remember it, down to the smallest detail.

  I breathe out a long, shuddering breath into the phone and then smile at Damian. “That was a nice surprise.”

  He smirks. “I thought you’d like that. I think I may have liked it more, though. I’ve had trouble thinking about how to get out of here because I’ve just been thinking about getting into you.”

  “I know how you feel,” I say. “I wish we could go back to how things were.”

  “Don’t worry, Callie. We’re going to figure this out.”

  “How? The whole country is going to be scrutinizing every move in the case now” I say.

  “We can still use Greg. Conway is already planting evidence that will be “discovered” and make it look like the Sanatores were at the crime scene too. That should give Greg’s connections enough room to make the case winnable.”

  “Should,” I say wearily.

  “Think of it as Plan A. If it doesn’t work, we’ll just try Plan B.”

  “And what’s Plan B?”

  “We can figure that out when we get there. One last thing. They are moving me to a higher security wing of the prison. I won’t have visitation rights.” He sees the look on my face and nods. “That means you have to be the one to convince Greg to help us.”

  I take a deep breath. I want to do everything I can to never talk to that slimeball again, but if it means giving Damian a chance to get free, I’ll do it. “I’ll do my best.”

  “I know you will. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for. Stronger than I gave you credit for. You can do this.”

  I wait on a bench in a public park. The air is chilly and I hug myself tightly to warm my hands. Birds chirp and two small girls chase each other through the playground equipment while their mom plays on her phone. It’s a completely normal day for everyone else, and they have no idea what kind of mess I’m in. It feels so strange, like I’m an outsider. Still, I’d rather be fighting tooth and nail to help free Damian than struggling to think of a reason to get out of bed in the morning.

  I see Greg before he sees me. He gets out of a slick black car that probably costs way more than it looks like it. He’s wearing a ridiculous coat that has to be way too warm for the weather. Oversized buttons run down the front and the coat opens in a high collar that reaches his ears. He finds me soon enough and takes the seat next to me on the bench. I scoot away, giving myself as much space as I can.

  “Callie,” he sa
ys softly. “You know I won’t bite.”

  “No,” I say. “You’ll cheat, though.”

  He rolls his eyes. “Jesus Christ, Callie. Do you have any idea how many women throw themselves at me? You would be amazed at how many of them I turned down. Only sleeping with a few here and there practically makes me a saint.”

  A few? So it really wasn’t the only time. I knew it somewhere deep down, but hearing it confirmed seals off any last bit of mercy I might have shown him. He never had a chance with me again, but I might have spared him some cruelty for the few good moments there were between us. Not now.

  “I’m not here to talk about the adventures of your tiny dick,” I say.

  His cheeks grow red and he opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off.

  “You need to find a way to get the charges against Damian dropped, or you’re going to lose everything.”

  He stares at me in stunned silence before bursting out laughing. “You’re threatening me? I still have even more evidence I could bring against Damian if he wants to piss me off.”

  “We have enough evidence to move against your father, and when we do, the feds are going to start following all those trails of dirty money, and where do you think they’re going to lead?”

  At first, I think Greg is going to curse at me or maybe even try to hit me, but he just laughs again. “You think I’m going to put my neck on the line to save my father? You can have the old bastard. He always talked down to me about how I wasn’t responsible enough to handle more of the family businesses. We’ll see who is responsible when the feds are knocking down his door.”

  I sigh. “You don’t understand. If they look into your father’s accounts, they are going to realize his money is dirty. If they realize his money is dirty…”

  Greg stares blankly at me. “I understand perfectly well. You can have him. Screw him, and screw your mobster boyfriend. They can both rot.”

  I take a deep breath, trying hard not to scream or strangle him. I say each word slowly, hoping that maybe it will sink in this time. “All the money you have came from your father. That means all your money is dirty too. If your father falls, you fall.”

  Something finally reaches Greg and his lips purse in anger. “And I’m just supposed to believe you have a magical pile of evidence somewhere stashed away?”

  “No. See for yourself,” I say, handing him a copy of our evidence.

  He slowly flips through the folder, eyes squinted in confusion. “I don’t get what half of this means. It’s just a bunch of numbers and legal jargon. It could mean anything.”

  “Do you want to risk your future on that?”

  He shifts uncomfortably when I snatch the evidence back from him.

  “Even if this is all true, do you really think I didn’t prepare for something like this? How stupid do you think I am?”

  Don’t answer that. I have to try very hard not to smile when I realize what he’s about to say. Greg has no idea what the Sanatores were doing last night. He doesn’t know the safe is gone. I just hope he was dumb enough to keep all his backup money in one place.

  “I think you’re smart enough to realize you don’t have a choice in this,” I say.

  “I have a choice. About fifty million of them, to be exact. Unmarked bills, in cash. I can take it and go at the drop of a dime. I’ll be out of the country before they even catch my scent.”

  I make a show of wincing. “You mean there was that much money in the safe in your closet?”

  The color drains from his face.

  “Yeah,” I say. “I know you wouldn’t be stupid enough to keep all your cash in one place, which is good, because I heard some mafia types broke in and stole your safe.”

  “That’s ridiculous. It’s the most well-secured safe money can buy. It would take days to break into it.”

  I shrug. “I didn’t say they broke into it, I just said they took it.”

  “They...took it?” He asks, swallowing hard. I can see the thoughts racing behind his eyes. He has to know he’s cornered now.

  “No one has called to tell you about it yet?”

  “I was busy this morning,” he says distractedly, pulling his phone from his pocket and glancing at the screen. He must see something he doesn’t like because his face gets even paler before he slips it back in his pocket.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t hear anything. Apparently the criminals knocked a hole in your wall and yanked it out with some kind of crane.”

  “I was weekending in my beach house, you know I am never home on the…” His eyes narrow. “You did this. I don’t know how, but you did this.”

  “I wish I did,” I say casually. “I could use fifty million dollars.”

  His lips compress into an angry line. “What do you want?”

  “You know what I want. I want Damian to be a free man.”

  “He killed a dozen people, Callie,” says Greg, his voice full of whiny frustration. “How am I supposed to do anything about that?”

  “No,” I say. “I was there. I also know you already pulled some strings to have evidence withheld, because it should have been clear as day that there was a shootout between Cristiano’s men and the police. Damian didn’t kill any cops. In fact, he was helping the cops except when he killed Cristiano, and that was in self-defense.”

  Greg’s expression darkens. “I didn’t have the evidence withheld. I had it destroyed. It’s too late to go back to that.”

  “Then say it was the Sanatores. They are the ones who just broke into your house for the safe. Evidence has already been planted that makes it look like the Sanatores were at the crime scene and responsible for the deaths. Say they contacted you when I was kidnapped for ransom money, and they must have gone after your safe when that plan failed.”

  Greg frowns in confusion.

  “Just call whoever you need to call, and I’ll sit right here and tell you exactly what to say. If you do that, we won’t turn in the evidence against your father. You’ll still get to live your cushy lifestyle and you’ll just be down a safe. If you play this right, they might even get the safe back for you when they go after the Sanatores.”

  Greg locks eyes with me for a long while, his face pouty and resigned. He finally nods, fishing his phone out of his pocket and making the first call.

  25

  Damian

  The courtroom is packed but I only have eyes for one person in the crowd. Callie sits with her hands squeezing her knees. She looks beautiful in a crisp blue skirt and white blouse. Her full tits press against the material and I can see the bulge of her soft flesh above her bra line. I lick my lips, wishing I could go to her right now. I’ve heard the old cliché that absence makes the heart grow fonder, but I can’t believe how true it is. I was already absolutely crazy about her, but now my need for Callie is ravenous. If I somehow get to walk away from this, I don’t know if I could keep my hands off her long enough to reach the car. I don’t know if I could wait to marry her until people could get plane tickets and make hotel arrangements. I might just drag her to the nearest altar.

  My thoughts are dangerous though. Dangerous because they all depend on a series of events playing out in an absolutely perfect way. Nothing can go wrong, or it will all fall apart. The last few weeks have been more a trial of patience than a trial of justice for me. Day in and day out, I wait, listening to witnesses and prosecutors talk. The good part was after Callie met with Greg, the prosecution started to sound much less hungry for my blood. At times, they even seemed borderline incompetent, which was hopefully a result of the pressure he was putting on them to get me out of this. The fact that one man, even one as clueless as Greg, can have so many connections continues to surprise me.

  The turning point in my case came when new evidence was ‘discovered’ and presented, implicating some of the top members of the Sanatore family in the murders at the dock. Callie told me that Agent Conway had actually spent most of his career trying to take the Sanatores down, so when the idea of planting
evidence to nail them came up, he was like a man possessed, carefully making sure evidence was found in just the right places and at just the right times to erase any doubt that the Sanatores were involved.

  The next turning point was when two of the police officers who were first on the scene said they saw Cristiano shoot me before I stabbed him. In the space of a few days, I started to look a lot less like a mass murderer, and a lot more like the hero who saved Callie Beccaccio.

  If the jury deliberates in time, today will be the final day of my trial. I’ll find out whether I’m guilty of any of the dozens of charges against me, and I’ll find out if the rest of my life is going to be full of the happiness I don’t deserve. I turn to find Callie in the crowd for the hundredth time, catching her eyes and winking. She takes a deep breath and smiles back, but I can see how forced and tense it is. She’s nervous as hell, and I just wish I could take her in my arms and kiss her until her worries melt away.

  The courtroom hushes immediately when the jurors emerge from deliberation. I watch helplessly as the lead juror stands, clutching a sheet of paper and looking down. His hands are shaking, and I remember he’s just a regular guy, probably wishing he didn’t have to miss work for this, wishing he could get back to his life. I don’t know if even Greg could get to the jurors, so the question becomes whether we put on a good enough show to convince these people I’m innocent.

  “We, the jury, find Damian Citrione not guilty of the count of…”

  I listen to the endless list of charges against me and breathe a small sigh of relief each time the verdict comes back not guilty. It takes nearly thirty minutes for the jury to read through each charge and their verdict, but in the end, I’m only charged with trespassing on private property, which the judge says is grounds to place me on probation for six months. It feels unreal. In less than an hour, the justice system decided that I get to keep my life. I turn to look at Callie, whose cheeks are wet with tears. She smiles wide at me, this time there is no hesitation or strain in her face.