Heading to my parents’ house to let the old man know what we’d found out and see what he wanted us to do from there, I tried to get a little shut-eye, but couldn’t. The images of those two flayed men kept playing in my head. We needed to find this Chains son-of-a-bitch and make sure he never used that weapon again.
CHAPTER FOUR
Dominico
MY FAMILY OWNED two and a half acres outside of Vegas. Surrounded by eight-foot-high security fencing, the property had a guard posted by the gate around the clock. In addition to the main house, there were two in-laws’ quarters. Michael and I lived in one of them, and off-duty family soldiers, who had been personally vetted by my father, slept in the other.
The traditional stucco buildings—combined with the swimming pool, armed soldiers, and high fences—made the estate look like some sort of Spanish villa for the cartel. Guards waved us through the gate, and Michael and I went straight to the main house. Mamma greeted us at the door, fussing about how tired we looked.
“Look at those bags under your eyes,” she said, kissing Michael’s cheeks. “I read an article the other day about missing out on sleep. They say it takes years off your life. You’re both still growing. You need your rest.”
Mamma wasn’t stupid. Her father had been the Mariani family boss, but when he didn’t have any sons, he made my father his heir. Mamma grew up as a Dona, the female equivalent of a Don, and she knew who we were and what we did, and that the chances of old age taking us to the grave were slim to none. Yet she still insisted on making sure we regularly ate well-balanced meals and nagged us about annual doctor and dentist visits. We humored her whenever we could.
“We’re fine, Mamma,” Michael assured her. “And you better hope Dom’s done growing, or he’ll have to duck to get in the doorways.” My big brother had been sore about my height since I outgrew him in eleventh grade.
“Don’t listen to him, Dom,” she said, tugging on my suit until I bent down so she could give me a kiss. “You grow all you want. You’re perfect. Both of my boys are. Now go see your Father, and I’ll make you breakfast.”
I wasn’t really hungry, but if Mamma had it in her mind to feed someone, you’d better believe they were gonna get fed. No argument. She scurried off toward the kitchen to do her thing while we headed to Father’s office.
My old man’s office was located on the main floor in the back of the house, overlooking the swimming pool. The room held a permanent fragrance of pine, gun oil, cigar smoke, and whichever monthly plug-in air freshener Mamma used to try to mask the odors. This month’s vanilla scent hit us before we even opened the door. Leaned back in his desk chair, fast asleep, Father startled awake when the door creaked open. He had his hand on his gun before we crossed the threshold.
“Hello Father,” Michael said, easing into the room.
Looking from Michael to me, Father released the hold on his Glock. “Come in, boys. Sit.”
The assortment of office furniture could comfortably seat eight. Sometimes Father held family meetings here, squishing us all together and making the soldiers stand in the back while those of higher rank sat. Pleasing the old man meant you got a seat, but if you pissed him off, you could be standing for years while fighting to get back in his good graces.
“I trust you have news,” Father said, once we sat. His exact orders had been, “Don’t come home until you know something,” and neither Michael nor I would have been stupid enough to disobey that command.
Michael relayed the tale from the bartender while I gnawed on the inside of my cheek, trying to stay awake. Despite my best efforts my eyes must have drifted closed, because the next thing I knew, Michael’s elbow was digging into my side. My eyes sprang open to find my father glaring at me.
“Shall I have your mamma bring you your blankie and teddy bear?” he asked.
I’d been awake for almost twenty-four hours, and sitting in his too-damn-comfortable office chair had finally done me in, but Father wasn’t the type to accept excuses. I bolted upright and apologized.
“Stand,” he said. “And try to stay awake.”
I rose and stood behind my chair, careful not to touch it so he wouldn’t accuse me of slacking. They continued their conversation while I stood guard like a sentry or a common soldier, exactly how the old man wanted me to feel. He and Michael spoke of plans involving me like I wasn’t even in the room. Father would allow us a few hours of sleep, but he wanted us back on Chains’s trail as soon as possible to track down his entire crew and bring them in alive for questioning.
The families kept the peace in Vegas…mostly. Only peace looked a lot like a shaky house of cards with a grenade on top. We knew the Durante family was behind the attack, and we were sure as hell planning to retaliate. But if we could prove their involvement, their allies would be a little more hesitant to jump in and collapse the peace completely.
As the meeting’s last order of business, Father gave me a task. “The new chef. I want you making sure she gets to and from work every day. Keep an eye on her and let me know if the Durantes are sniffing around.”
Babysitting a cook was the type of task he’d normally assign to a common soldier, and now he gave it to me as punishment. The rest of the crew would get a big kick out of seeing me broken, knocked down. But I couldn’t be too upset about the chance to watch Annetta Porro’s fine ass. Oh, I’d keep an eye on her all right. “Yessir.”
“Did you find out what happened to the last chef?” Michael asked.
Father’s eyes hardened. “They found him back at his mom’s house in Reno. Said someone threatened him into leaving town for a while.”
The chooch, the moron, had run, and, judging by Father’s reaction, the chef’s temporary vacation had turned into a permanent one. The old man had no use for cowards or traitors. And if the Durantes had scared the old chef off, who knew what they’d do to the new one? Had I put Annetta Porro’s life in danger by pushing for her to get the job?
By the time Father released us, worry and exhaustion left no room in my brain to even think about food. Mamma wouldn’t hear of it, though. She sat both Michael and me down and plopped half a baked frittata in front of each of us. My sister, Abriana, joined us, sipping a glass of orange juice while she stared out the window.
It was unusual for Abriana to do anything quietly, so I nudged her under the table with my foot. “You okay, Bri?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Peachy.”
Finishing up the dishes, Mamma paused long enough to frown at Abriana before tossing her towel on the counter and leaving. The instant she slipped out of sight, Abriana stood and carried her glass of juice to the liquor cabinet, where she topped it off with vodka.
“Bri!” Michael reprimanded. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
Our nineteen-year-old little sister shouldn’t be partaking at all, but especially not at seven in the morning.
Abriana screwed the lid back on the vodka and put it back. “Take a chill pill, Mikey. If I’m old enough for them to sell me off like some prized cow, I should be old enough for the hard stuff.”
“A prized cow?” Michael asked. “Someone’s got a high opinion of herself.”
She tilted back the glass, downing every drop before she set it on the counter. “Screw you, Michael.”
“Poor little Abriana,” he taunted. “You think it’s any different for us? Do you honestly believe you’re the only one Father’s working on a marriage contract for?”
She blinked, looking to me for answers. I knew nothing, so I said, “You wanna fill us in, Mike?”
“We all do what’s best for the family. Father’s asked me to get to know the Caruso girls during Abriana’s engagement dinner. He’ll no doubt expect me to tell him which one I intend to marry by the end of next week.” Michael grimaced.
“That sucks for you,” I said.
“At least I get a choice. You’ll end up engaged to Ciro Pelino’s daughter by the end of the year. They’ll announce it right after I get
hitched.”
I almost spit out my juice. “Valentina?”
Michael nodded. “Don Pelino and Father have already started negotiating.”
The news felt like a punch to the gut. Father did everything he could to point out my shortcomings and uselessness. As the heir apparent, Michael was destined for a political marriage. Abriana would have probably gotten off the hook if she hadn’t caught the eye of the son of Father’s biggest California ally. As for me... I didn’t need to produce an heir, so I’d hoped to stay single like Uncle Carlo.
“I hate this family,” Abriana said. She pushed off the counter and headed outside.
Still in shock about my own fate, I followed her out to the back patio. She slunk down on the wicker sofa overlooking the pool, and I sat beside her. The orange glow of the rising sun reflected off the water as the air chilled my skin. I draped an arm over my sister and hugged her to my side.
She sighed. “What if he’s a complete beast?”
I rubbed her shoulder. “He can’t be any worse than one of those vampires in that Lost Boys movie you like so much. Maybe if you wore a garlic necklace…”
She elbowed me in the ribs. “I’m serious, Dom.”
“I know.” Although I felt bad for my sister, focusing on her problem while running on fumes and still trying to get over the shock of Michael’s revelation about my own fate, proved difficult. “Have you met Valentina Pelino? She has the face of a horse and the personality of a limp noodle.”
Abriana eyed me. “She’s…nice.”
“Nice. Great.” Adamo Pelino’s daughter, while not all that bad, had definitely never occupied my dreams. I’d tried to strike up a conversation with her once, only to find she lacked personality. Any personality at all. If I had to marry, I at least wanted someone interesting…someone with fire…someone like Annetta Porro. My mind wouldn’t stop wandering back to the fierce brunette from the restaurant. Father would come unglued if I refused the daughter of one of his allies for some chef. The old man would no doubt disown me, if he didn’t outright kill me for shaming our family.
Abriana’s knee nudged me back into reality. “Where did you go just now?” she asked.
My sister had her own problems and didn’t need to hear about mine. Determined to make her laugh, I lied. “I was thinking about Valentina’s teeth.”
“Her teeth?”
I nodded. “Yes. Have you seen the size of that overbite? It’ll be like going to bed with Mr. Ed.”
“You’re awful,” she said, struggling to repress a giggle.
“I know. That poor girrrrl,” I said with a whinny.
Abriana laughed, shaking her head. Moments stretched between us, and she grew silent, leaning her head against my shoulder. We watched the sunrise together as my eyelids grew heavy.
After a while she said, “I know you and Mike will have to marry whoever Father selects too, but it’s different for you.”
“Different how?” I asked, yawning.
She leaned away and pulled her feet up to the seat cushion. “Because you’re men. If you don’t like your wife, you can ignore her and take a mistress or two. Like Father.”
Mobsters weren’t exactly known for being monogamous. I couldn’t have been more than ten when Uncle Carlo and I were making a delivery and I saw Father’s consigliere, Giuliano Biondo, out to dinner with a woman on his lap. Assuming the woman was Giuliano’s wife Celia—a kind woman who always gave me cookies when we stopped by her bakery—I rushed to their table to say hello. Carlo intercepted me, but not before I realized the woman on Giuliano’s lap wasn’t Celia.
“Why would he cheat on Celia?” I asked Carlo as we left the restaurant.
“Mobsters take mistresses,” he replied, brushing off the question.
“Why?”
“Lots of reasons. It’s not like we live forever, kid. Those who don’t get popped get pinched and end up doing hard time up the river. It’s a rough life we lead, and we take pleasure wherever we can get it.”
I studied him, absorbing everything he said. “Why aren’t you married?”
He chuckled. “I don’t need the liability.”
“What does that mean?”
He shrugged. “We’re surrounded by volatile men who will always try to get one up on you, but if you don’t love anyone, they can’t use anyone to get to you.”
The memory made me wonder what sort of future my sister would have. Would Romario De Lucca love her and turn her into a liability one of his enemies could capitalize on? Or would she be home mothering his children while he spread his seed all over town like most of the mobsters I knew? Neither option would cheer Abriana up, so I decided to lie instead.
“Father doesn’t have a mistress.”
She gave me a sideways you’re-full-of-shit-and-we-both-know-it look. “You’re right, he doesn’t have a mistress. He has several…like a goddamn harem. You know the old man doesn’t like to get attached. I don’t know what they see in him, either. Mamma can barely stomach him, and she has to.”
I put a finger to my lips and reminded my sister to keep her voice down. We’d both be in danger if Father or any of his guards overheard us. “Money can be a powerful aphrodisiac,” I whispered.
Abriana rolled her eyes. “Not that powerful.”
I loved Abriana, but at nineteen, she’d never had to work a day in her life and had grown up behind the protection of Father’s soldiers. A spoiled brat, but also a good girl—learning creative swear words had been the extent of her teenage rebellion—and I had no idea how she’d make it as a mobster’s wife.
“You’re not thinking of taking a…a mister, are you?”
“A mister?” She choked out a laugh. “Is that like a lover? As nice as that sounds, I’m not suicidal, Dom. The family doesn’t care about any of this women’s rights crap. Our dear ol’ daddy already pulled me into his office to grill me and make sure I’m still a virgin and won’t shame our family on my wedding night. Like any man would touch me, knowing who Father is. He gave me a full-on lecture about my duties as a wife…and oh, I’m well aware of the consequences if I dishonor him. We both know that even if Romario De Lucca beats the shit out of me, there won’t be a cop on the planet who can help me.”
“Bri—”
“I’m serious, Dom. You know I’m right. He could be a drunk who rapes me every night before visiting his whores, and who will care? Will Father? Will you and Michael come rescue me?”
“I—”
“No, you won’t. You can’t. Father needs the support of the De Luccas, and he would sacrifice every single one of us to get it. You know it, I know it, Michael knows it. Even Mamma knows it. But none of us can do a damn thing about it, because it’s what’s best for the family.” She spat. “Again, I hate this family.”
“Don’t talk like that, Bri. Especially not here. You know Father would flip out if he heard you.”
“So? What can he do now?” She snorted. “For the first time in my life I’m actually valuable to him. He’s not gonna hit me this close to the dinner. God forbid his allies find out what a monster he is.”
“He’s in a difficult position,” I defended.
“I wonder if you’d be so understanding if he was ruining your life.” She squeezed her knees to her chest.
I didn’t know what more to say to my hurting little sister, so I squeezed her shoulders and said what I could. “I’m sorry, Bri.”
She wriggled out from under my arm and stood. “Yeah, me too.” Then she headed back into the house, leaving me to contemplate how screwed up her situation really was.
CHAPTER FIVE
Annetta
I GOT THE job!
Even as I got off the bus to head in for my first day of work, I couldn’t believe it. The shock still didn’t wear off when I tied on my apron and scrubbed my hands. Afraid Frank would be the one training me, I was pleasantly surprised when Brandon greeted me and led me to my station.
“I’ll be working with you today,” he said. “If
you don’t remember where everything is from your crash-course interview, just ask.”
“Are you my boss?” I asked.
He chuckled. “Hardly.”
“Is Frank?”
“No. You, Frank, and I all three answer directly to Collin.” Then with a warm, genuine smile and a patient tone, he introduced me to the rest of the staff and spent the next couple hours walking me through the menu and policies and procedures.
Still excited and desperate to absorb every drop of knowledge I could wring out of him, I asked lots of questions and took detailed notes to study later. A couple of the other chefs gave me sideways glances, but I didn’t care if my bubbly enthusiasm and giant notepad revealed my rookie status. It would all be worth it when I jumped right into the flow and blew away the kitchen’s learning curve.
“We have a really important dinner coming up with about a hundred guests, so we’re going to focus on getting you trained to whip out dishes in a high-stress environment. Normally training wouldn’t be this intense, but after the last chef disappeared…” Brandon clamped his mouth shut.
“Disappeared?” I asked.
“I meant bailed,” he amended, fidgeting with his apron. “Didn’t even bother to give notice or call in and tell us he was done.” His gaze went to a clipboard beside the grill. “Have I shown you this cleaning schedule yet?”
I let the abrupt subject change slide and shook my head, wondering what had really happened to the last chef. But I didn’t have much time to think about it. The restaurant got busy the moment the doors opened, and the workday raced by. Both Frank and Collin made a few appearances, no doubt sniffing around to make sure I hadn’t burned anything up or poisoned anyone, but for the most part everyone left us alone to work.
By the time I clocked out, my feet were aching and I smelled like garlic and fish. I washed off as much of the funk as I could and let myself out the back door and into a cloud of cigarette smoke. Waving my hand to disperse it, I stepped to the side of the building to make my way toward the bus stop.
“Annetta, wait,” someone said.
Dom's Ascension (Mariani Crime Family Book 0) Page 3
