Dom's Ascension (Mariani Crime Family Book 0)

by Amanda Washington

  “Come on, give her a kiss,” he heckled.

  Dominico pecked my cheek.

  “You call that a kiss?” the cameraman hooted. “Who is she? Your sister?”

  Dominico didn’t seem like the type to turn down a challenge, and he certainly rose to this one. Slipping his arm behind my back and pulling me closer, his eyes searched mine, silently asking for permission. When I nodded, he pressed his lips against mine and set my world on fire.

  I’d been kissed before, but Dominico’s kiss was a unique blend of passion and power that made my knees buckle. I leaned into him and the contact threatened to burn up my entire body. The camera flash brought us both back to reality. We pulled apart and breathlessly stared at one another. He looked as affected as I felt.

  Dominico pulled himself together first. “Excuse me for a moment,” he said, heading for the cameraman.

  The two of them looked over the pictures while I removed my costume and tried to get my emotions under control. Dominico returned, minus his costume and with a fistful of pictures, and led me out of the room back to the bar where we were cheered, given gifts, and bought drinks.

  “Turns out winning is pretty rare,” he explained. “We’re kinda a big deal right now.”

  “There was no hidden compartment in the lamp, was there?”

  “Nope. If I hadn’t broken it, we would have failed.”

  “That’s pretty sneaky of them,” I said.

  He shrugged. “This is Vegas. Everything’s fixed, and nothing’s ever what it seems.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Dominico

  I DIDN’T EVEN get to finish my first victory drink with Annetta before my pager interrupted our date. In hindsight, I was lucky it didn’t go off while we were trapped in the escape room since both Carlo and my father expected their pages to be returned immediately. Still, the damn thing’s intrusive beeping made me want to smash it against the wall. Who knew, maybe there’d be a clue inside it, like how to get my life back.

  I excused myself from the table and called Carlo to see what he wanted. A couple of his soldiers had gotten a bead on possible accomplices of Chains’s, and Carlo wanted me to come in so he could give me the details. I promised to meet him at his home office as soon as possible and hung up.

  “Is everything okay?” Annetta asked when I returned to the table.

  No, everything wasn’t okay. I’d been really enjoying my time with her, and now I needed to pump the brakes on what we had going so I could hunt down the guys who’d killed my family’s soldiers. Aloud I said, “Yeah, but I got called in to work, so I’m gonna have to take you home.”

  “Okay,” she said, grabbing her things.

  Hollywood always made mobsters look like players who spent every night in a different broad’s bed. I don’t know which family they got their information from, but Marianis… we worked our asses off. Most nights, I’d settle for sleeping in any bed. Even a sofa would do. But you didn’t hustle, you didn’t eat. Not only that, your capo would see you as dead weight and eventually trim the fat.

  Because of my erratic and heavy work schedule, I didn’t go out much. When I did, most of my dates were interrupted by work, which girls never seemed to take too well. But Annetta didn’t whine or complain or accuse me of making shit up. She just grabbed her purse and stood, ready to go.

  “I really do have to work,” I said, wondering if she thought I was brushing her off.

  She gave me an amused smile. “Are you expecting me to beg you to blow off your job and stay?”

  Yeah, I kinda had been. “I would if I could.” Truthfully, I wanted to.

  “I know. I get it. No biggie. I had fun, but it’s time to get back to reality.”

  With that, she headed toward the exit. We laughed about our escape room adventure on the drive, and then I dropped her off at her front door. I don’t know if it was the perfect plumpness of her lips or the timid way she’d opened her mouth to me, but I wanted another kiss. One that wasn't prompted by an overzealous cameraman. In fact, I wanted a lot more than a kiss. But since we were in front of her father’s house and I had to get to work, I settled for a quick peck.

  “My work schedule is nuts, so I’m not sure when I’ll be able to do this again,” I said.

  Hurt flashed in her eyes, but she nodded and gave me a smile. “Thank you for tonight.”

  Maybe she did think I was ditching her. I tugged on her hand, drawing her attention back to me. “But I do want to take you out again.”

  She stared up at me, her expression unreadable. Finally, she dropped her gaze and said, “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

  Was she giving me the brush-off now? My heart leaped into my throat at the possibility of not seeing her again. “What? Why not?”

  This time when her gaze met mine, her eyes lit up and her smile widened. “You set the bar pretty high with this date. I don’t know how you’re gonna top it. Anything after this would probably be a disappointment.”

  I closed the distance between us and kissed her again, deeper this time. I didn’t even care that her old man might be watching. Everything about the girl made me lose my mind. When I released her and stepped back, I tugged her chin up and looked into her eyes.

  “Challenge accepted. I’ll call you.”

  Breathless, her eyes dilated, she said, “I need to give you my number.”

  I rattled off the digits I’d memorized from her résumé.

  “Wow, that’s kinda stalkerish,” she said, but she looked pleased. “Do you have a number?”

  “Yeah, but I’m never home.” I could give her my pager number, but Carlo monitored my pager log and I didn’t want him to know about Annetta. At least not yet. Probably not ever.

  Carlo lived in a modest, Southwestern stucco split-level house in a gated community. He could afford better, and my father had asked him to build closer to our home, but Carlo made it clear he preferred the humble home. As a Mustache Pete—an old school wiseguy—my uncle played his role like he was playing a poker game, never showing his hand. Nothing about his home or his car even hinted at the kind of money he had to be worth. In fact, his home blended in with the upper middle-class community so well no outsider would believe the Mariani family underboss resided within.

  I got out of my car and the smell of smoke drew my attention to the garage where Michael and a few guys from Carlo’s crew were hidden from the view of the street. They greeted me, snuffed out their cigarettes, and we all headed in together. Carlo had a new live-in housekeeper, Constanza, who Michael knew from high school. She’d been a year ahead of him, but her small frame and sweet face made her look like she should be studying for a final rather than taking care of a capo.

  “Hello Michael. Dominico. Gentlemen,” she said, welcoming us in. Since Michael and I were family, she always made sure to address us as a show of respect.

  “Hello, Constanza. Is he ready for us?” Michael replied.

  “Yes. Right this way, please.”

  She led us to Carlo’s office as if we hadn’t been there a million times before. It wasn’t as big as his office at the casino, but the eight of us fit comfortably. He waited until everyone sat before starting in on the business.

  “Earlier today I got a call about three possible associates of Chains.” Carlo gestured at two of his men. “David and Gian here tracked the men down, only to find their bodies stinking up the Dumpster behind an apartment building. Like Chains, they’d been stripped down and left with the garbage.”

  “Do they have any Durante ties?” Michael asked.

  “That’s where you guys come in. We have addresses and names now, so I need to see what you can find out about them. I want family, friends, work, everything. We know they’re connected to the Durantes, but we need evidence before the Commission sends a messaggero in to tell us how to keep the peace.”

  “A messaggero?” David asked.

  David had blond hair and blue eyes. I’d met him in passing, but didn’t care enough to
find out his story—whether he’d married into the family or had been recruited. He clearly hadn’t learned the language yet.

  “A liaison who goes between the families to prevent war,” Carlo replied. “A peacekeeper of sorts. They’re supposed to open communication to help prevent…misunderstandings. The violence in Vegas has gotten national attention, so the Commission has recommended a messaggero to help us get it under control.”

  I let out a breath. The Commission was like the national association of wiseguys, made up of the country’s most powerful mobsters. Their number one goal was to protect their bottom lines, which meant there must have been enough media coverage about the Vegas happenings to make the meat eaters (corrupt cops) nervous about getting greased.

  “We need to solve this problem and convince the Commission we don’t need a messaggero,” Carlo said, surprising me.

  A peacekeeper didn’t sound like a bad idea. I opened my mouth to tell him as much, but the look he sent me closed it.

  “To do this, we’re going to have to take the Durante family down,” Carlo continued. “At this time, the boss doesn’t want any of you to lay a hand on the Durantes. We need to be more calculated about our attacks, so we’re going to shift our focus to gathering information and funds. Keep hustling like you’ve been, but in addition to collecting information on Chains’s crew I also want you keeping an ear out for anything the Durantes are scheming. Any hits they’re planning, any jobs they’re working… Hell, if they start selling peanuts on the side of the road I want to hear about it before it happens. Capisce?”

  “Yessir.” We all confirmed that we understood.

  “Good. Now go get to work.”

  After he dismissed everyone, Carlo asked me and Michael to stay. When the room cleared, he nodded to me and asked, “You have a question?”

  “Not necessarily a question, I’m just wondering why we don’t want to bring in a messaggero,” I replied. “Seems like it would be a good thing.”

  Carlo shrugged. “Possibly, but it doesn’t matter. Your father wants to take down Maurizio and become the capo di capi of Vegas. And once he takes it, he doesn’t want some Commission rat poking his nose around in his business.”

  “Won’t the Commission come after Father if he doesn’t comply?”

  “Not if he can prove we have the situation under control,” Carlo replied.

  “Do we?” Michael asked.

  “Have the situation under control?” Carlo frowned. “What do you think?”

  In addition to the recent hit, six of our warehouses and drop points had been attacked over the past four months. We’d also had soldiers jumped in broad daylight and one delivery interrupted midroute. Sure, we’d retaliated and gotten in a few of our own punches, but the odds were stacked against us. Still, this was Vegas, where anything could happen. Especially if you knew how to motivate the refs.

  “Which is why Father is recruiting help from California,” I said.

  “From anywhere he can get it,” Carlo amended.

  My old man was kind of an asshole, and not exactly known for his ability to make friends. “Do you think he’ll be able to get what we need in time?”

  “I learned long ago not to underestimate my brother,” Carlo replied. “He always manages to surprise me. Sometimes that’s even good.”

  Michael and I both nodded. Father could be volatile, and the more power he gained the crazier and more violent it made him. Since he was unafraid to step on anyone to get to the top, families aligned themselves with ours. Despite all his faults, Father was better than the alternative. Carlo said Maurizio had a screw loose, but everyone else referred to the Durante don as batshit crazy. Never to his face, though. Except for Father, who’d proven he had the balls to go after Maurizio. Now he just needed the support to make it happen.

  Someone knocked on Carlo’s door.

  Everyone in the room shifted, hands going to their pockets. We weren’t exactly the most trusting lot.

  “You expecting someone?” Michael asked.

  Constanza should have announced the visitor, and her absence put us all on alert.

  “That’s our secret weapon,” Carlo replied, hurrying to open the door.

  In walked a man I recognized, but couldn’t place. My age with dark hair and built like a professional lineman, his face split into a grin when his gaze met mine. “Dom. Good to see you again.”

  Then he wrapped me a crushing hug, one I remembered instantly. “Gino?”

  He laughed. “In the flesh.” He pulled away from me long enough to hug Michael. “Mikey, how you two been?”

  Gino Leone was my second cousin by marriage, but I hadn’t seen him since I was eight. My father had been breaking ground in Vegas and had to deal with some of the local families so he sent Mamma, me, and my siblings to spend the summer with Gino’s family. His mother was Mamma’s cousin, and, though they’d distanced themselves from the mafia and lived in the small town of Claycomo, Missouri, they were family and didn’t hesitate to take us in. Gino’s dad worked at the Ford assembly plant, and his mom was a housewife.

  A year older than me, Gino had an older brother and two younger sisters. His brother had hung out with Michael all summer while Gino and I split our time between torturing and hiding from his little sisters. Father straightened out his business, and before school restarted, he sent for us. I never thought I’d see Gino again.

  We took a few minutes to get caught up. Gino told us his older brother went into the military and got married, and one of his sisters was about to graduate from high school.

  “When did you get to Vegas?” I asked.

  His gaze cut to Carlo, who stepped up and answered for him.

  “Gino came shortly after high school. He wanted to contact you, but I couldn’t let him risk it,” Carlo said.

  “What?” Since high school? Four years, and nobody had told me. “Why?” I glanced at Michael, but he looked as surprised as I felt.

  “Nobody but your father knows who Gino is and why he’s here.” Carlo patted Gino on the back. “What good would a secret weapon be if everyone knew about him?”

  Michael seemed to figure out what Carlo meant long before I did. He let out a breath and chuckled. “He’s trying to get into the Durante family.”

  I looked from my brother to my uncle to my cousin, trying to make sense of it all.

  “He is in,” Carlo said, his voice heavy with pride.

  “Yep. I got made a few months ago.”

  “You’re our guy inside the Durante family,” I said, finally catching up to speed.

  At his nod, my stomach fell. I liked Gino. If half the stuff we heard about Maurizio Durante was true, when they found out about him being a mole, Gino would be praying for death. And I’d never heard of a mole who didn’t get caught.

  “Gino knows what he’s doing,” Carlo reassured me. “And he’s going to need to get out of here soon.”

  “Already?” I asked. Feeling like we had so much more to catch up on. I still couldn’t believe he’d been in Vegas and I hadn’t seen or run into him.

  “Yeah, I asked Carlo if we could meet before things got real crazy,” Gino said. “I need a favor, Dom.”

  Sensing it would be a heavy one, I sat. “All right. What’s up?”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Annetta

  THE TELEVISION WAS blaring. I could hear it from the front porch before I even opened the door. Dominico kissed me good-bye and I let myself into the house, closing the door on my incredible dream date and running smack dab into reality. And it smelled like vomit.

  Papa was passed out in the recliner, work clothes and shoes still on. An almost-empty fifth of bourbon sat on the coffee table next to him, and a glass balanced on his thigh. Pressed against his chest was a framed photograph of my mother in her wedding gown, and a mixing bowl of vomit lay at his feet. At least this time he’d remembered to grab a container.

  Oh, Papa.

  Tears stung my eyes as I remembered what day it was—fou
r days prior to the fourth anniversary of Mom’s death. Papa’s drinking had steadily been increasing since Mom passed, but every year around this time he indulged in about a week-long drinking binge. No matter how much I yelled and complained, it was like he couldn’t force himself to stay sober. I kept expecting the anniversary to get easier on him, but each year seemed to get worse.

  After checking to make sure he was still breathing, I took the glass and the photo and set them both on the coffee table, dumped and rinsed the bowl at his feet, and tried to rouse him.

  “Papa, come on, let’s get you to bed,” I said, swatting his thigh.

  He didn’t even stir, which told me how messed up he was. Even though I knew it wouldn’t deter him, I put the lid on the last of the bourbon and put it in the kitchen cabinet. At least he’d have to sober up enough to stumble in and find it if he wanted more.

  Since I couldn’t get him to bed, I grabbed one of his blankets and spread it over him, removing his glasses and kissing his forehead. This time of year I always felt more like the parent than the child. Still, there was something so beautifully heartbreaking about the way he still loved and missed my mom that I could never stay angry at him for too long. I wanted a love like that someday…hopefully without the tragedy, though.

  With Papa taken care of, I locked up, grabbed the cordless phone, and headed to my bedroom. I’d just had the most incredible night of my life and knew Adona would want all the juicy details.

  ***

  Dominico had set my world on fire, then left me to smolder and die out. Days passed without even a phone call from him. Curious, but hurt and angry about his abrupt absence from my life, I asked Papa what he knew about the Mariani family.