by Vivian Wood
And once he got them talking about women, something would slip.
When he got to the place, he got out of the car and tipped the driver handsomely. He’d only brought a small overnight bag, because he had no earthly idea how this was going to play out.
He pushed up his sunglasses, scoping the place out.
It was a little Italian bistro, a place he’d normally never be caught dead. He walked inside, past the outdoor tables, eyeing the men he came to see on one side of the restaurant, and was stopped at the host stand.
“Just yourself?” a young brunette asked.
“Just me.”
“Alright. If you’ll follow me…”
She started to take him to the empty side of the cafe, assuming he’d want some privacy.
“Actually, if I could just sit over here,” he said, pointing. “I want to be able to watch my car.”
She accepted his bluff with a smile and took him to the right side of the restaurant.
“Will this be fine?” she asked.
He glanced at the five men. Jogging suits, gold chains, and every one of them was holding. And they were only three tables away. He smiled at the waitress.
“This’ll be fine.”
She took his drink order and went away, leaving him alone with the guys. As good time as any for an introduction.
“Hey, excuse me,” Callum asked. “Do any of you guys know where I can get the best hoagie?”
Five pairs of eyes looked at him, but no one answered.
He tried again. “My uncle Vito says it’s Rita’s Bakery, but all the guidebooks say it’s Hogan’s Hoagies.”
“Vito got a last name?” one of the guys asked.
“Valetti.”
He saw the guys look at each other, uncertain. Vito Valetti was a big name around here, for all intents and purposes.
“I’m his nephew, in town for a conference,” Callum said. “Ricky’s the name.”
“Really. While he’s out of town on a cruise?” another guy said.
“Uh… yeah. Didn’t schedule the conference, ya know?” he said.
“Uh-huh. What’s Vito’s favorite movie of all time?”
Shit. Think fast.
“Well, I don’t know if it’s his favorite, but we’ve watched The Godfather Part II together more times than I can count,” he lied.
The table was silent. For a second, he thought that he was wrong, that he was going to die in a shitty Italian bistro in a city he didn’t even like.
There was a creak as one of the guys stood up, then walked over to examine Callum.
“I knew that bastard liked The Godfather best,” he said to Callum. “Say, I’m Andy. Nice to meet you.”
Callum and Andy shook hands, and Andy insisted that he join their table.
“Sit, sit!”
They sat him down and stuffed him full of Italian food, which he complimented loudly every opportunity, asked him more questions about Vito’s alleged past. Callum bluffed his way through, using what little he knew about the mob.
It worked, through no real doing of his own. When the moment came to turn the conversation to women, Callum jumped at the chance.
“Where did you say you’re visiting from again?”
“Boston.”
“I didn’t know Vito had relatives in Boston.”
“Well, my mother moved there when she was in college. The Family doesn’t rule everybody, you know? Except those with wives.”
Callum casually name-dropped the mob like it was yesterday’s business. Andy looked suitably impressed.
“Just everybody that’s smart. And then there’s our women, running the show…”
Everyone present laughed.
“Yeah. I tell you, my ma told me this crazy story about some big mobster’s daughter who ran away. Said that they never found her!” Callum said.
“You know what? God’s honest truth, she came back this week. I swear on my mother’s grave!”
“No way,” Callum said. “She’s like… back here?”
“Yeah. Get this: she’s the Don’s daughter.”
“No,” he said, feeling like a gossipy housewife.
“Yep. Saw her myself last night at that event the Don was hosting. The Don is taking applications for his daughter’s hand. Easy way of saying, calm her down and I’ll make sure you’re made reaaaaal big.”
“Oh yeah? I bet the party was at their house, real fancy,” Callum said, trying to get a location on the party.
“Nah, the Don pulled out all the stops. That, and his house ain’t as secure as a hotel. He had the party at The Ritz.”
“Huh. Must’ve been nice.”
“Yeah, I left after she ran out, ‘bout halfway through. Like I said, it’s more for the unmarried guys.”
“When did you say they’re getting married?” Callum asked.
“I didn’t. The Don is keeping it all hush-hush. I heard the Don is shipping the little brat and the husband off to Miami after they’re married, though. That’s gotta be sweet, for the man who gets to do the honors!”
“Sure does!” Callum said. Meanwhile, below the table, he was trying not to crack his knuckles in anticipation of the ass he was going to kick.
Nobody touched anything that was his… and she definitely qualified.
He said and made conversation for a few more minutes, then thanked them and left.
Vito was either going to be confused or pissed when he returned to find that his nephew had been here, and been told so much. Served him right for going on a cruise.
Callum grabbed his overnight bag, walked a couple blocks, then called an Uber.
It was time to head downtown, see what he could see.
28
“You look beautiful.”
Viola turned to find Vera, the woman her father had hired to attend to Viola for the week, standing behind her.
“Um… thanks,” she said.
She was dressed simply, in a white cotton dress. It felt scratchy and wrong, just like the whole day felt wrong. Too bad there was no righting it…
“No problem.”
Vera swung around to her side. They were in the bathroom of Viola’s suite, before they headed to the airport.
“Who did you choose?” Vera asked.
Viola looked at her. Obviously she knew what was going on, and chose to ignore it.
“Travis Vespucci.”
“Ah. Seems like a nice enough young man.”
Viola ran a brush through her hair for the thousandth time.
“You’re nervous,” Vera offered. “You were always fidgety when you were nervous.”
“Ummm…” Viola said with a frown.
“When you were a little girl, you used to braid your hair. It made your mother laugh, the first time you did it.”
“I’m sorry. Who are you, exactly?”
“Well… your father’s… good friend. I was friends with your mother, too.”
Viola stared at Vera blankly.
“Are you saying you’re my father’s mistress?” she asked.
“I don’t really like that word.”
Viola looked at Vera, really looked at her. She had bright red hair and green eyes, and she was wearing a teal gown that was too slinky for her age. Viola tried to picture Vera on her father’s arm, and was disappointed when she could see it a little too well.
“You knew my mother?” she asked slowly.
“Oh, yes. For years, until…” she paused. “Well, some things are best left in the past. But your mother and I, we had quite the camaraderie. It used to drive your father mad.”
Viola had made it all day without crying, but the mention of her mother on the day that was supposed to be hers…
She burst into a fit of weeping, big fat tears running down her face. Vera was left trying to dry the tears of someone inconsolable.
“It wasn’t something I said, was it?” Vera said, alarmed.
The look of distress on Vera’s face only brought on another wave of tear
s. Suddenly Viola felt the weight of her situation keenly. Felt like she might cry a whole lake of tears, then drown in them.
“Ohhh,” Vera said, hugging her awkwardly. “I told your father this would happen. He should’ve just left you alone down there.”
“What?” Viola blubbered. Vera kept talking over her, like she wasn’t there.
“When he found you last year in Savannah, I told him to just leave you be. And he did… until he found out you were dating one of Irish boys. ‘Let the girl be happy’, I told him.”
So her father had known where she was… and had chosen not to intercede. Until Callum.
If her father had any idea how deep she was in with the Cúram, he’d kill her. That thought was more certain than ever… and she was making decisions for two now.
She took several deep breaths, gradually calming herself down, and wiped at her face. She needed to cool off — and she needed Vera out.
“Hey, could you go get the makeup artist?” she said to Vera.
“Of course!”
Vera rushed out of the bathroom, happy for a task.
The makeup artist, a shy older woman, came back in. When she saw Viola’s face, her own fell.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to start over,” she said.
“No… I think I can salvage what’s left…” said the artist.
It took about ten minutes, but when Viola looked in the mirror again, she looked like a different person altogether.
“Thanks,” she told the woman halfheartedly. The woman smiled and ducked out of the bathroom.
Viola checked the time on her phone and sighed. Twenty-two minutes until she left for the airport. She walked to the bathroom door and peeked out.
There was no one to be seen. She quickly walked to the door of her suite, pulling the door open.
…and found no one around. Not any of the guards, not Vera, not even the makeup woman.
She didn’t know what was going on. Was there a bomb threat she hadn’t heard about? She pulled the latch in front of the door and stepped fully out into the hall.
“Hello?” she called.
Silence.
The elevator at the end of hall dinged, drawing her attention. She suddenly wished she had a weapon, because the elevator door opening seemed… threatening.
A man’s blond head popped out, checking both directions.
Callum.
“Callum!” she cried, unable to help herself.
He looked her way, and for a second she was able to see his entire face light up with relief. He stepped out of the elevator, wearing an elegant dark suit and carrying his gun in his hand.
“What are you doing here?” she asked as she rushed toward him.
“I could ask you the exact same thing,” he said.
They met in the middle of the hall, breathless. Callum reached out and drew her into him, her lips already parted for his kiss. They crashed together, hands in one another’s hair, kissing like there was nothing else in the world worth living for.
When she pulled back, breathing hard, she felt tears beginning to well up in her eyes.
“You can’t be here. My father will kill you,” she said softly.
“I can’t be anywhere else,” he said. “I love you, Viola.”
“I… I love you too, Callum. But my father—”
“Fuck your father. He threatened me, so what?”
“So he means it!” she protested.
“Yeah, well. I say I love you, and I mean that a lot more. He’s not going to keep us apart.”
He looked at her, his green eyes intense.
“Don’t you want this? Want us?” he asked.
The tears came then. “Yes. More than anything.”
He slid his arm around her, pulling her tight against him. She loved it, loved the feel of him… if only she wasn’t afraid.
“You’re sure that you want this? Me?” she said, swallowing. “You could have any other girl without a fight.”
“I’m sure, damn it! I’ve never flown halfway across the country just to stop a wedding… If that’s not certainty, I’m not sure what is.”
She was quiet for a moment. “You know about the wedding, then.”
“I know enough.”
She looked at him, then looked down the hall.
“Okay,” she said slowly. “If you’re really ready to run away with me, I’ll go.”
He shook his head.
“No running away from this. I’m going to tell your father in person. He needs to understand that you’re mine.”
Her eyes went wide. “What?”
“You heard me.”
The statement just hung there between them for a moment. She bit her lip.
Callum was a violent man, that much she knew. He was a man that fought for what he believed in — and he didn’t run from something just because it was messy.
She knew that about him. Hell, she loved that about him. She had to tell him about the pregnancy, though. It wasn’t fair for him to be walking into something like this half-cocked.
“I’m pregnant.”
She watched his face, saw the look of shock that came over him. He didn’t say anything for a few seconds, intensely concentrating.
“Really?” he asked.
“Really.”
She gasped as he swept her up in a hug, long and hard. She hadn’t really considered what his feelings about the baby would be, but apparently he was happy.
“Hey,” she said. “Let’s go somewhere safer.”
“No, I’m going downstairs. You are going back to your room.”
“You can’t ask me to stay in my room. What if something happens to you?”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry, but that’s how it has to be. You can’t drop a bomb on me like… like that, and expect me to forget it.”
She sucked in a breath.
“If I don’t go, they’ll kill you.”
“They might anyway.”
She stared at him, and he stared back.
“I was willing to marry someone else, knowing about my pregnancy, rather than have you gunned down by my father,” she said.
He thought for a moment.
“Is there anything I can do to dissuade you?” he said.
“No. Not if you insist on living out in the open.”
He paused. “There might be bloodshed. In fact, I plan on it.”
She looked into his eyes, so he would know that she meant what she said.
“Good. As long as it’s not yours, I don’t care.”
He pursed his lips for a moment, then nodded.
“Okay. But let’s go back to your room for a second. Better the hotel staff doesn’t see how many weapons I have, and I need to get ready.”
Viola nodded. She led the way, opening the door and going through first. She turned, looking to him. He stood on the other side of the threshold, the doorknob in his hand.
“Don’t be mad,” he said. “I love you.”
“What—”
Then he closed the door, jamming the electronic lock with an audible sound. She heard a soft whirring noise, and guessed that maybe he’d inserted the wrong card into the lock.
“Callum!” she said, moving to the door. She tried the handle; it was impossible for her to even jiggle it. “Callum! Don’t do this!”
She looked through the peephole, but he was gone.
Damn you Callum, she thought.
She turned her back to the door and slid down. There was nothing for her to do but wait…
29
Callum’s heart was in his throat as he walked to the elevator. He hated walking away from Viola like that, but she’d given him no choice.
He never would have let her walk into a situation like that in the first place, but carrying his baby?
His baby.
He pressed the down button in the elevator, rubbing a hand over his face.
It was too much. Too big for the moment.
He put that fact in a box in his
mind, to be taken out and examined later. Now was not the time to think about babies.
He moved his thoughts to the person who they needed to be focused on: Antonio Valetti. He’d done his homework on Valetti, had looked at a dozen pictures of the guy.
With his slicked back greying hair and his nice suits, Valetti should be easy to spot.
He also knew that Valetti was staying two floors below Viola.
He blew out a breath and rolled his neck. He was sweating a little bit — sometimes he still got nerves when he had to do a hit.
And this was no mere hit… it was her father, for God’s sake.
He got his two guns out, readying himself.
The elevator door opened and chimed.
Showtime.
He popped his head out, saw two guards in the hallway. Big guys, wearing suits.
Will the mob ever learn? Don’t dress your guys like identical fucking idiots.
One of them was looking his way, snapping his gum and he stared.
Callum stepped out into the hallway, heading their direction. He counted the footsteps before they realized he was headed their way.
One, two, three, four, five…
Now he had their attention.
Recognition bloomed on one of the guard’s faces. The other guy just saw Callum’s weapons. Both went for their guns, turning.
Neither got so much as a shot off. Callum put them down mercilessly, moving forward to step over their bodies.
He didn’t give himself time to feel remorse or guilt. They were useless emotions in this situation.
The shots brought someone, maybe a guard, to the door. Callum closed in, listening, but stood so that he couldn’t be spotted by someone looking out the peephole.
Whoever it was, they were stupid enough to partially open the door. Callum shot the door twice; at this range, both were fatal shots.
He got his foot in the door before the body’s weight slumped on it and closed it. He swung the door open as best he could, shoving the body aside.
He peeked around the corner. He identified Antonio Valetti and four made men inside, scrambling to get behind chic, modern living room furnishings. Callum took one man down without reservation, then ducked back in the small amount of cover provided by the door.
