My Mobster

by J. L. Drake

  I needed to forget how incredible it had felt to be in his arms, his mouth moving against mine. Or how close I was to begging him to strip off my clothes. Or how disappointed I felt when Carmela interrupted us.

  My stomach heaved, and I covered my mouth. Oh my God, I hooked up with the male version of my best friend. With my hands trembling, I stepped into the street, frantically flagging down any taxi in the proximity.

  I climbed inside the first one that stopped, and I finally felt like I could breathe normally. I gave the driver Carmela’s address, laid my head back, and closed my eyes. Lately, my life had been one mistake after another. Tears snuck out of the corners of my eyes, and I wanted to slap myself. I was so sick of crying.

  The taxi stopped moving, and I discreetly wiped my face with the back of my hand.

  “It’ll be twenty-five bucks,” the driver said.

  I reached for my purse—then, I remembered I had left it on the sofa in Gian’s office. “Shit.” I threaded my fingers through my hair. “I’m sorry. I left my purse at the bar. Would you mind driving back?”

  The driver glanced over his shoulder. “Do you have money in your house? I can wait.”

  “I don’t have a key. It’s in my purse.”

  The driver rubbed a hand down the side of his face. “Are you serious? Your purse might not be there anymore.”

  I swallowed back the sobs edging up the walls of my throat. “I left it in the owner’s office. Nobody will take it, and you can double the fare.”

  “The owner?” he said, his voice softer than a few seconds ago.

  “Yes. I’m friends with the owner and his sister.”

  He pulled away from the curb. “I’ll take you back. Don’t worry about doubling the fare. I’m happy to help out a friend of the Trassatos.”

  Contemplating his swift mood change, my eyes narrowed for second. Maybe what my friends whispered about the Trassato family was true. I tugged on the hem of my shirt then decided it didn’t matter either way. I had kissed Gianluca Trassato. So what? It wasn’t a big deal. If the rumors about him were true, Gian had plenty of women coming and going in his life. In all likelihood, he had dismissed me from his thoughts the minute I exited his office. I’d be smart to do the same.

  “That’d be great. Thanks for your help,” I replied, already feeling better.

  Fifteen minutes later, the driver pulled up in front of Gian’s nightclub. “I’ll be right back,” I said.

  “Don’t worry. Take your time.”

  I headed directly to the bouncer at the front door, circumventing the line to get in the bar. It hadn’t decreased much since I went in the first time. After a quick explanation to the bouncer, he unhooked the red velvet rope and let me inside again. Not stopping to look for Kevin, Carmela, Gian, or anyone else I might know, I darted through the crowds of people to the back area of the bar leading to Gian’s office.

  Unlike when I had followed Gian through the No Admittance doorway, a large man now stood in front of the door. He wore a black suit, an impeccably starched white shirt, and a dark tie.

  “I need to get back there,” I blurted out.

  Folding his bulky arms across his chest, he glanced at me, a frown on his face and his dark eyes narrowed. A wave of cold rushed through me. Something about him made me grateful I hadn’t run into him in a dark alley.

  “No.”

  “I left my purse in Gian’s office. I had a meeting with him earlier.”

  He pursed his lips, a dubious look on his face. “The answer is still no. He’s busy right now. Come back in an hour.”

  I heaved a worn out sigh. “I need to pay the taxi outside, and I don’t have any money.”

  He shrugged. “Find someone who cares.”

  “Can you go back there and get it for me?” I asked impatiently. “I left it on the sofa in his office. It’s a black clutch purse.”

  “No. No one is allowed back there right now. Including me.”

  “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

  He arched one messy eyebrow. “I don’t care. Just find somewhere else to do it.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

  His dark eyes jerked to mine. “Look, lady, you can either come back in an hour, or I’ll have someone escort you out of here.”

  “Thanks for your time.” I spun on my heel. “Asshole,” I said, flipping him off without turning around.

  Admittedly, it was childish, but I’d gotten sick of men pushing me around. Gian had probably already moved on to some other woman for the night, and this time he added security so they wouldn’t be interrupted. Well, he and his goons could go fuck themselves. If that man refused to let me get my purse or go back there to get it for me, I’d try the exit door I saw earlier.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Gian

  Tony Red and Sal escorted Tommy Calvo into my office with a gun pointed at his head. His stringy dark hair stuck out in every direction, and blood dripped from his nose. Carlo followed them inside, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

  “Shut the fucking door!” I yelled at Carlo. I didn’t know why Tony Red had recruited him tonight, especially when I was one second away from putting a bullet in Carlo’s head. Some of the guys told me Carlo had attempted to persuade Dominick to take me out based on fabricated charges. If he didn’t watch himself, I’d punch his ticket and worry about the implications later.

  I dragged a wooden chair to the middle of my office and pointed to Tommy. “Have a seat.”

  Tommy shrugged and rolled his eyes. “Don’t mind if I do.”

  I circled his chair with my hands behind my back. “Do you know why you’re here?”

  “I don’t have a fucking clue,” Tommy snarled, his nostrils flared and his eyes narrowed. “You better have a damn good reason because Tony Red yanked me out of The Smoking Gun in the middle of a lap dance.”

  “Where have you been for the past week?”

  He stretched his legs out in front of him, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. “Taking care of my nonna. She’s been sick.”

  “Don’t fucking lie to me.”

  “I’m not.”

  I slammed my fists into his face. First, an uppercut to his jaw. Then, a left hook to his right cheek. And finally, one more punch to his nose.

  A sickening crack echoed through the room, and his nose bent sideways. He slumped forward in his chair, cupping his face. Blood seeped between his fingers, dripping onto his shirt and pants.

  I pulled a gun out of the waistband of my pants. “I strongly advise you to start showing me some respect, or you won’t like the consequences. And yes, this came from him.” I brushed my hand along my jaw to indicate I meant Dominick. To avoid being caught on a wiretap fingering Dominick for a crime, we weren’t allowed to say his name out loud in circumstances like this, so we touched or pointed to our jaw.

  Tommy dropped his hands, his eyes wild. “I’m sorry, Gian. I had some shit come up this week. It won’t happen again.”

  “By shit coming up, do you mean skimming money from deadbeats to feed your drug habit?” I asked.

  “I don’t do drugs, and I would never steal money from the family.”

  I released the slide of my gun. “Is that right?”

  He held up his hands in surrender. “I borrowed some here and there, but I’ll pay you back.”

  “When?”

  Tommy swallowed hard and then grabbed a white handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his face. “Tonight. I can borrow the money from my brother.” His brother wasn’t part of the Trassato family. He owned a deli in Bensonhurst.

  I pointed at Tony Red. “Check his pockets.”

  Tony Red grabbed Tommy by his collar and wrenched him to his feet. He pulled a roll of cash out of one pocket and a bag of white powder out of the other. He handed them both to me and shoved Tommy back into the chair.

  I stuffed the roll of cash in my pocket. “How much is here?”

  Tommy licked his lips. “Two grand.”

 
“You owe me ten grand more.”

  Tommy nodded without giving me eye contact. “Okay. I can get it tonight.”

  “What about this?” I asked, holding up the plastic bag filled with white powder.

  He rubbed his hands up and down his thighs. “Somebody gave it to me at the club. I wasn’t going to touch it.”

  I threw the bag at his face. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.” He glanced at me then looked away. His eyes were red and dilated. “You’re a soldier. You’re a member of this family, and you’re walking around high as a fucking kite. People see you shoving drugs up your nose. You’re making a fool of yourself, and you’re making the family look incompetent.”

  “I don’t do drugs,” he said, shaking his head furiously.

  “So you’re telling me if I had you pee in a cup, it’d come back clean?”

  “Fuck you.” He jumped to his feet, and the chair fell backward, clacking against the floor. Contempt slithered across his face. “What I do in my free time is none of your business. If I want to do a few lines or get drunk, I’ll do it. The family doesn’t own me. You don’t own me, and Dominick sure as hell doesn’t own me.”

  In a matter of seconds, Tony Red had his gun out. I held up my hand to stop him, but he didn’t bother looking at me for approval. He pulled the trigger.

  Tommy tumbled to the ground with a loud thud. His head bounced on the floor like a ball. Blood stained the front of his white shirt. His dark eyes stared sightlessly at the ceiling.

  I wiped a splatter of blood on my cheek with the back of my hand. “Tony, what the hell? Do you realize what you did? We weren’t supposed to kill him.”

  Tony shoved his gun into the holster hidden inside of his suit. “I couldn’t take his shit anymore. He mentioned him, he disrespected you, he skimmed money, and I was sick of him talking to us like we’re a bunch of jerk-offs. If you get in trouble from the higher ups, you can pin this on me. I don’t care. He deserved to die.”

  I ran my hands through my hair, my mind searching for a way out of this mess. Dominick wouldn’t like that Tommy ended up dead. If we explained the situation, he’d probably think Tony was justified, but it reflected poorly on me that I couldn’t control my soldiers. “Carlo, go out the side door, and pull the car around. Tony will carry out the body.”

  “What are we going to do with him?” Carlo asked. I threw the plastic bag of cocaine on top of Tommy’s lifeless form.

  “Dump his body along with the drugs on the street in the Bronx. Make the police believe it was a drug deal gone bad.”

  Carlo folded his arms across his chest. “What are you going to do?”

  “Clean up this fucking mess.” I gestured to the door. “Now move, before this blows up in our face.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Evangeline

  Exhausted, cold, and beyond pissed off were the only words to describe how I felt when I yanked on the exit door to Gian’s nightclub, and it didn’t budge. I wandered to the corner of the building and watched the people laughing, talking, hugging, and stumbling as they left the nightclub.

  Leaning against the brick wall, I brushed strands of my hair away from my face and tipped my head to the sky. Things like this only happened to me. I must have done some seriously bad stuff in my previous life to deserve my nonstop run of back luck, or maybe it meant I needed to suck it up, pack my bags, and move home.

  Resigned to waiting until the full hour expired to go back inside, I closed my eyes. An air conditioning unit thrummed somewhere in the shadows. I shivered. The early summer air had grown damp and clammy since I’d sent the taxi driver away after exchanging phone numbers. He’d been surprisingly accommodating.

  Less than thirty seconds later, the side door swooshed open. A dark-haired man in a pinstriped suit kicked a wooden wedge under the bottom of the door and jogged down the street.

  I didn’t waste a second. When he disappeared around the corner, I shimmied through the opening, careful not to disturb the wedge. I slipped off my heels so I wouldn’t make any noise and tiptoed across the hall, the cold concrete stinging my bare feet. The door to Gian’s office was cracked. I paused by the entrance, listening for voices. First came the low rumble of Gian’s voice followed by a muffled voice I didn’t recognize.

  With one hand balanced on the doorjamb, I leaned forward and peeked inside. Unlike the bright overhead fluorescent lights in the hallway, Gian’s office was dimly lit. When my eyes adjusted to the light, I saw a man with his arms and his legs spread wide on the floor, a dark liquid staining the front of his shirt. I leaned forward another inch. The man looked vacant, pale, and his eyes were fixed and unblinking. Then reality slapped me in the face. He was dead.

  An involuntary gasp skipped from my mouth. My heart exploded in my chest, and my knees buckled. I reached for the wall to stop my fall, and my shoes slipped out of my grasp, clattering onto the floor.

  My head jerked up, and my gaze collided with Gian’s. His golden eyes looked like the fires of Hell, his face a blank mask. Long seconds ticked by. I rolled my neck, trying to clear my foggy brain and backpedaled a few steps. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude. I forgot my purse. I’ll come back later.”

  “Evangeline, come in here. We need to talk,” he said, his voice hard and forceful.

  I swallowed the lump lodged in my throat. “I have to go.”

  He lunged forward, and I ran. Less than six steps later, his arms closed around my waist. My muscles tensed, and adrenaline surged through me. My heart drummed erratically inside my chest. My arms flailed wildly through the air like a wounded animal. I donkey-kicked backward, and he grunted. Within seconds, he whirled me around and pinned me to the wall. The bass from the music in the club vibrated the drywall, shaking my bones.

  “Let go of me,” I hissed through gritted teeth, ignoring the stomach-churning cocktail of anger and fear swirling inside of me.

  “Listen,” he hissed. “You need to shut the fuck up and do everything I say, or you will end up at the bottom of the Hudson River. Got it?”

  I sucked in a breath. “My friends know I’m here. They’re waiting right outside for me. They’ll call the cops if I don’t come out in a few minutes.”

  “You’re lying.”

  I stared at the floor so he couldn’t see my eyes. “You don’t know that.”

  His frame curved over mine, his dark eyes imprisoning me, and my shoulders slumped. “I won’t hurt you,” he whispered, his lips brushing against my earlobe. I squeezed my eyes, hating the equal measures of lust and terror whirling inside my gut like a tornado. “But I can’t promise my associates won’t unless you play along right now.”

  Tears swelled in the corners of my eyes. “How? What do you want me to do?”

  His thumb brushed over my lower lip, and I struggled to take a breath. “You can start by painting a smile on your face and acting like you’re not afraid of me.”

  Every instinct told me to fight. My mind circled through a dozen or more escape plans, all with equally horrific endings. “How do I know I can trust you?” I said softly.

  “You don’t have a choice. You don’t have any bargaining power right now.”

  “I won’t tell anyone about this, not even Carmela. Let me go, and we’ll never see each other again.”

  His mouth flattened. “No.”

  The pads of his fingers brushed over my nipples, and pleasure zigzagged through my nerve endings. Damn my body.

  “I hate you,” I whispered, glaring daggers at him.

  “Get over it.” A click sounded behind us.

  “Put down the fucking gun, Tony. You’re not killing my fiancée tonight,” Gian said.

  My eyes widened, and he captured my ear between his teeth. “Follow my lead.” He spun around and enveloped me in a one-armed embrace.

  Gian’s friend silently inspected me like a wad of gum on the bottom of his shoe. “This chick is really your fiancée?”

  “Yes. Why the fuck would I lie?”

  Whist
ling, the man slipped his gun back inside his jacket. “Fuck, Gian. When the hell did this happen? Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

  “Evangeline is a friend of Carmela’s.” Gian smirked. “You know how she is. She’d kick my ass if she thought I came within a mile of any of her friends.”

  “Yeah, you’re right about that. Carmela is a firecracker.” With a smoky chuckle, he held out his hand. “I’m Tony.”

  I didn’t make a move to shake his hand—then, Gian squeezed my shoulder and gave me a minute shake of his head. I caved.

  “Nice to meet you,” I said, my voice as weak as my handshake.

  “What the fuck is going on?” a man shouted behind us. “Who the hell is she?”

  The man who propped open the door charged down the hall with his gun drawn. Gian shoved me behind him.

  “Carlo,” Gian said through clenched teeth. “Don’t point a gun at my fiancée.”

  Carlo’s eyebrows snapped together. “Why is she back here?”

  “The door was propped open,” I muttered.

  “You left the door open?” Gian’s body vibrated with barely restrained rage.

  Carlo shrugged, his heated stare roving down to my thighs and back up. “I didn’t think anyone would be dumb enough to sneak inside.”

  “Exactly,” Gian countered, his voice icy. “You didn’t think. Carlo, help Tony and Sal wrap up the body, and get it out of here. I have shit to do.”

  “We’re ready to go, and Sal cleaned up your office,” Tony answered.

  “Call me when it’s done.” Gian guided me into his office. “Sit,” he said, gesturing to the sofa.

  I plopped down and buried my head in my hands. “What do we do now?”

  “We go to Carmela’s house and pack your bags. You’re moving in with me.”

  I lifted my head. “No fucking way. I don’t know you, and based on what I witnessed a few minutes ago, I don’t want to know you.”

  “Sorry, sweetheart.” He twisted my hair around his finger and I shivered. “Until I know I can trust you, and I can convince everyone else to trust you, you’re going to be living with me as my fiancée. It’s the only way to keep you safe.”