Nico

by Sarah Castille

  “I’ll call her when I get outside.” She grabbed her purse, and swept past Nico, standing over the Wolf’s twitching body like a predator over a kill. Frankie moved to the side to allow her to pass, and she stepped over the enforcer and made her way down the stairs, Big Joe behind her. Once outside, she called Jules, tried to explain the situation without alarming her friend.

  “All good?” Big Joe gestured to a blue Volvo. “I’ll take you home and come back for your car. We got a coupla extra guys out here. Frankie doesn’t like to take any chances with the boss.”

  Mia drew in a ragged breath. “Thanks for what you did back there.”

  “No problem. After ten years, I think I’ve got a handle on Mafia politics. You can’t tell the boss right out he might have missed an option, but there’s ways around it.”

  “I mean for showing me some respect,” she said. “That’s not something I see much. In my family, if your boss tells you to put the dog out, you put the dog out. You don’t try to spare the dog’s feelings.”

  “Well, ma’am.” Big Joe scrubbed his hand over his face. “You’re not a dog, and you said you didn’t want to go.”

  Mia laughed bitterly. “It doesn’t matter what I want. I’m a woman. In this world, I’m nothing. You should have picked that up when he said, ‘Get her out of here’ instead of ‘Mia, I think we should take you someplace safe, what do you think?’ Or ‘Mia, I’m about to kill a man in cold blood in the middle of your office, and I don’t want you to watch.’”

  Big Joe’s nose wrinkled ever so slightly like what she’d said was distasteful. “I’ve never seen Mr. Toscani treat any woman with disrespect. All the women he’s been with—”

  “I don’t want to know.” She felt a stab of jealousy at the thought of Nico with other women. Had he seduced them the way he seduced her? “I thought Nico was different, but I was wrong.”

  She heard a loud crash and looked up just as the lights in her office flickered off. No doubt her office would be destroyed by morning. And Wolf … Her stomach clenched. She was so tired of picking up the pieces. Her life had been shattered the night Danny died, her illusions about what it meant to be part of a Mafia family destroyed in the time it took to pull the trigger. She’d thrown out everything soft and feminine she owned the next day, remade herself in kick-ass punk as a “fuck you” to her father and because the anger in the music soothed her soul. Only the ink she’d secretly gotten a few years later reminded her of her femininity, gave her strength for the punishments that would never end.

  Big Joe’s phone buzzed, and he pulled it out and checked the screen. Tucking it away, he opened the door to his vehicle. But as Mia moved to enter, he hesitated, as if he had something to say.

  Mia frowned. “Is something wrong?”

  “I don’t want you thinking the wrong thing about Mr. Toscani,” he said. “He’s a good guy. The best. He treats everyone with respect. But sometimes in the heat of the moment—especially when a guy is trying to protect someone he cares about—he doesn’t think straight. Maybe all he wants is for his woman to be safe, and he doesn’t use the words he should.”

  Mia’s heart warmed to Big Joe. If her father could inspire this kind of loyalty in his men, he wouldn’t need to use his fists to keep them in line, and he wouldn’t be constantly looking over his shoulder, worried that they would betray him. Instead, he could turn all that energy into the family business, and his power would be unrivaled.

  “I’m not his woman.”

  “I don’t mean any disrespect, ma’am,” Big Joe said. “And I don’t have a woman of my own, so I could be wrong. But since I’m supposed to sit outside your place all night to make sure you’re safe under pain of death, I think you are.”

  TWELVE

  Mia wound her way through the crowds on the Freemont Street Experience with Jules in tow. Like most locals, she usually avoided the five full blocks of pedestrian heaven featuring a huge arched canopy of computerized lights, a massive sound system, shows, live bands, a slot machine-inspired zip-line attraction and free-flowing booze. When she wanted to game or play pool, she headed to the smaller, local casinos or occasionally to the Strip.

  She pulled Jules to a stop outside Casino Italia. It had all the glitz and glamour of its predecessor, but with a modern touch. A massive banner hung over the sleek chrome and glass facade, advertising the hotel’s current show—a hip-hop rapper who was in high demand.

  “He owns this?” Jules smoothed down her little black dress, a radical departure from her usual Tshirts and jeans. Mia didn’t think she’d ever seen Jules dress up before, and certainly not in heels.

  “I knew mobsters had money,” Jules continued. “But this takes it to another level.”

  Mia didn’t want to admit she’d also been shocked to discover Nico owned the casino. Over the last two years, she’d heard rumors about the renovation of the old Lucky Duck hotel, but she’d never considered it might be mob-financed and especially not by a capo as young as Nico. With the money now required to set up a casino in Nevada, most of the renovations and new developments were handled by large corporations or foreign investors, with the mob taking their cut through deals with regulators, unions, legislators, and developers.

  “Come on. Don’t stand outside gawking.” Jules tugged on her arm. “It’s Friday night. I want to party and meet your man, not necessarily in that order.”

  Mia bristled. “He’s not my man.”

  “Then what are we doing here?”

  “It’s business.” At least that was what she told herself when she convinced Jules to join her.

  In the three days since Big Joe had escorted her home, she’d had second thoughts about billing Nico for a service that hadn’t been completed, so she’d taken a second look at his system and flagged a few areas of concern. When neither he nor his casino manager returned her calls, she’d decided to pay him a visit.

  After all, she’d been hired to do a job, and her professional reputation depended on doing it right. If that meant she had to see the misogynistic bastard again, well she did owe him a thank-you for dealing with the Wolf. Not that she needed him to come running to her aid, but it had been nice to know someone had her back. She was still waiting for the fallout from that disastrous visit. So far, the newspapers hadn’t reported the discovery of a body, but she knew without a doubt her father would have something to say when he got out of hospital. Too bad she couldn’t bring Nico along.

  “I’m calling bullshit on that one,” Jules said. “Look at you all dressed up in your short black dress, laced up the sides, with that naughty crinoline underlay, the bare shoulders, and your long sexy socks. Men go crazy for stuff like that. If it was business, you’d be wearing a suit. You like him.”

  “He’s insufferably arrogant, condescending, controlling, bossy, violent, and dangerous,” Mia shot back. “He does what he wants regardless of what people think or feel or what the consequences might be, and he’s pretty much as off-limits as a man can get in my crazy, fucked-up Mafia world. He kidnapped me, hustled me at pool, and then it was all hands on deck to claim his prize. I mean, who does that? And after I let him into my office and…” Her voice hitched. “Showed him my stuff, does he ask what I think about leaving after he beats the crap out of the Wolf? No. He says, ‘Get her out of here.’” She paused for breath, and Jules laughed.

  “So that’s a yes, you like him. Guess I’m here as your wing woman tonight.”

  “It’s business,” Mia insisted as they walked into the casino. “You’re here as my associate.”

  “Well then I’m gonna get hammered, and I’ll write off my drinks.”

  Mia opened her mouth to refute Jules again, but she had to accept that Jules was right. Despite all her protests, and all the reasons why it was wrong, she wanted to see Nico again. It just wasn’t easy to let down her guard. The security test gave her an excuse to step out from behind the walls that had sheltered her for so long, to open herself up, to take the one risk she had always been afr
aid to take.

  “Looks like we’re gonna have to buy you a few drinks, too.” Jules gave her arm a squeeze and they walked inside.

  Casino Italia was a mix of old and new. Shades of gray and red dominated the upscale decor. Mia liked the unique mix of young/hip and retro Rat Pack Vegas vibes with live entertainment and vintage slots with levers; not so much the scantily clad dealers busting out of their skintight outfits as they leaned over the gaming tables.

  In addition to sound effects and other noise—clapping, cheers, bells, sirens and whistles—the casino played a mix of soft, repetitive and easy listening music, as well upbeat and stimulating Top 40 hits, all psychologically designed to manipulate customers into dropping the maximum amount of cash.

  Mia had to admit that the casino renovation was a smart move. The Downtown revival was picking up steam. Only a few blocks away, two of the city’s oldest hotels were being redeveloped, and the Freemont Street Experience was beginning to draw the younger, wealthier crowd away from the ostentatious grandeur that was the Strip.

  She led Jules past the massive central bar where bikini-clad bartenders gyrated to fast-tempo intrusive music, and over to the high-stakes room. Louis stood guard at the door in his blue security uniform, his head shaved since the last time she’d seen him.

  “I’m from HGH Enterprises.” Mia handed over her card, hoping Louis wouldn’t recognize her now that she was dressed in normal clothes. “I’m looking for Nico Toscani. It’s a business matter. Is he here tonight?”

  Louis smirked. “You planning to break into the control room again? Or are you here to dance?”

  “It was business,” she snapped. “And we sorted it out. Is Nico in the high stakes room or not?”

  “No, ma’am.” He pulled out his pager. “I’ll see if I can track him down.”

  One moment became five minutes, and with Jules chomping at the bit to explore, Mia had almost lost her patience by the time Louis pointed to a man pushing his way through the crowd, his coiffed silver hair a perfect match for his shiny silver suit. “That’s the casino manager, Mr. Vito.”

  Although Mia had talked to Vito on the phone and communicated with him by email, she had never met Nico’s casino manager in person, and she held out her hand to greet him.

  “Ms. Cordano. A pleasure to meet you at last.” Vito shook her hand. “Mr. Toscani is occupied tonight and asked me to extend his apologies.” He handed Mia an envelope. “He asked me to give you these comps, and he hopes you enjoy your visit.”

  “Thank you.” Mia’s cheeks flamed although there was no reason why Vito would think her visit was anything other than business. Her hand tightened on the envelope as disappointment speared through her chest. She hadn’t realized how much she was looking forward to seeing Nico. And Jules was right. It wasn’t about the security system. It was about him, and the way she felt when she was with him—beautiful and brave, wanton and wanted, instead of bruised, broken, and alone.

  “I guess I’ll just email the cybersecurity report, and you can pass it on. Call me if you have any questions.” She moved to return the envelope, but Jules snatched it from her hand.

  “That’s lovely. Please thank him for us.”

  “Why did you take it?” Mia followed Jules to the cashier. “He doesn’t want to see me. I shouldn’t have come here. Why don’t we just go back to your place with a bottle of wine?”

  “He does want to see you.” Jules joined the line-up with the chip comp in her hand. “If he didn’t, the guard would have just told you he wasn’t around. But Vito-Magneto from the X-Men just came to see us instead. He gave us comps encouraging us to stay. Read the signs. He’s here. He knows you’re here. Give it some time. Sometimes guys are more scared of their feelings than we are.”

  “He doesn’t have feelings. He’s a mobster.”

  “If you really believed that, you wouldn’t be here.” Jules handed the chip comp to the cashier. “You’re always looking out for people. You pulled me off the streets. You gave Chris a chance to make a new life for herself and her daughter. You’re giving back to the community by teaching coding to underprivileged girls. You look after your sister, and even your mom when your dad hurts her. Now I’m looking after you. I know it was hard for you to come here. But this is the first guy you’ve liked since I met you. The first guy you’ve actually put yourself out on the line for. Are you going to let him go so easy? He took a big risk to see you the other night. So why don’t you take a risk, too? I mean, look where we are. If there’s place to take a risk, it’s in a casino. And given what he did to protect you, I think the odds of you winning are pretty good.”

  “Jules…”

  Jules handed Mia a stack of chips. “It’s Vegas, baby. Time to live a little.”

  *

  “I’m very disappointed in you, Sammy.” Nico drove his fist into the hustler’s gut. “I thought we had an understanding. I did you a favor, and you were supposed to return that favor by keeping your business out of my territory.”

  “Testa di cazzo.” Frankie stepped to the side as Sammy fell.

  Sammy’s hand hit a discarded soda can, and it clattered down the alley toward Luca who was keeping watch with Mikey Muscles. No one ever came down the narrow alley at the back of Nico’s casino, but with so many drunken tourists around, they couldn’t be too careful.

  “It was an honest mistake.” Sammy wiped the blood off his mouth. “I thought I’d swapped out the ring by mistake, so I swapped it back.”

  Nico hit Sammy with a left hook, and Sammy’s head snapped to the side. “Honest is not a word I’d use for a man who sold a $50,000 three-karat diamond ring almost two hundred times.”

  Sammy had a good thing going until Frankie caught him hustling on Toscani territory. He would hang around pawn shops and offer the ring to innocent civilians at a bargain-basement price. At his insistence, the sucker would take the ring to the pawnshop, or even a jeweler to have it appraised. Sammy would make a big show of being shocked by the appraisal, and would pretend to reconsider the price. During the negotiation, he would switch out the real ring for a fake, pocket the cash and disappear into the crowd. Unfortunately, he’d just made the mistake of selling the ring to one of Nico’s casino dealers. And since everyone in the casino was under Nico’s protection, Sammy had a price to pay.

  Nico stepped aside as Frankie went through the hustler’s pockets, removing his wallet and a bag of rings, including one in a red velvet pouch. Nico landed a few more punches, breaking Sammy’s nose. Not that Sammy’s looks would matter anymore. He had been warned before, and now he would become a lesson for all the other underground slime who thought they could operate in Nico’s territory.

  Sammy slumped to the ground and moaned. Nico jerked his head and the two associates keeping watch opposite Luca and Mikey Muscles picked him up by the shoulders and dragged him away. Usually Frankie dealt with scum like Sammy, but after receiving Vito’s message that Mia was in the casino, Nico needed an outlet for his frustration, and Sammy had the misfortune of trying to pull a hustle at the wrong time.

  For four days, Nico had tried to stay away from Mia. Cosa Nostra came before blood family, and blood family came before the man. With his succession hanging in the balance and an agreement with the Sicilian Scozzaris to be honored, Nico had no place chasing after a beautiful, sexy hacker in crazy boots and punk clothes with dubious taste in music, who made him so damn hard when she refused to do his bidding, he couldn’t think straight.

  “What are you gonna do with him?” Frankie handed Sammy’s wallet to Luca and leaned against the wall. He lit a cigarette, and Nico’s lip curled. He’d given up asking Frankie to quit. Steeped in violence and darkness, the Toscani family enforcer had few vices and little tolerance for suggestions about how to live the life the Toscanis had given him after his parents were killed in a savage attack by the Russian mafia. If he wanted to spend his days with a cigarette in one hand, and a bottle in the other, who was Nico to judge? They had all given their lives to
the mob. They’d all suffered. And yet they would never leave. The mob was family. Until death did you part.

  “Something public.” He adjusted the knot on his tie, and smoothed down his jacket. He hated fighting in the damned suit, but presentation—la bella figura—was as important as action and without the veneer of civility, he would scare the civilians away.

  Luca tucked the wallet into his pocket. “You want Frankie to do it? Or you want to open the books and give the contract to Big Joe?”

  Big Joe had put in the ten years of service to the Toscani family necessary to become a made man, three of those with Nico’s crew. The only thing standing between him and his button was a contract killing. It hadn’t always been that way. In the old days, a good earner could make his bones solely by participating in an execution and not pulling the actual trigger. Big Joe was a solid earner. A good guy. Loyal. Trustworthy. Easy going. He didn’t smoke, didn’t do drugs, drank but never drove, argued but never lifted a hand to any member of the crew. He was the perfect mobster in a world of imperfect men.

  “I’m not ready to open the books yet.” Nico only accepted new made guys when he had the time and resources to support them. But now, with everything in crisis, he wasn’t prepared to take on the additional responsibility of policing another soldier, no matter how good an earner he might be.

  Frankie and Luca preceded Nico into the casino with Mikey Muscles taking up the rear.

  “Is she still here?” he asked quietly, as they emerged onto the casino floor. Mikey Muscles had been tasked with liaising with Vito about the unexpected visitor.

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Toscani. I got a live feed into the security cameras in case you wanted to check up on her.” He handed Nico his phone.

  Pausing in the doorway, Nico watched the short video clip of Mia on the screen. Madonna. Why the fuck did she have to dress like that? Every damn male in the bar was watching her dance in those lace-up boots, that tiny dress, and those sexy socks that just begged a man to follow them under her skirt just to see how far they would go.