RISE (A Mafia Crime Family Romance) Read online

  “I… I’m sorry, Nonna Romano. I didn’t realize you’d be here,” I tell her, stammering through a muffled groan of a whisper.

  I’m not at all surprised when I hear no reply from her as she stands beside Vinny’s hospital bed, leaning against one of the raised metal side guards, her head lowered. The two harsh fluorescent ceiling lights shining down from almost directly above her head, casting ominous shadows on her face that make her seem darker, colder, more disappointed in me. The old lady can be so stoic. Stubborn too. Her command of English might be a bit weak, but she knows her way around body language. She’s a master. I notice her mouth moving but no words are coming out. I’ve seen her like this before more than a few times. She’s praying. The sight of her small, slightly crooked, wrinkled thumbs padding slowly over each faded wooden bead of her rosary necklace confirms it. She has probably repeated a dozen ‘Hail Mary’s’ and a few ‘The Lord is my Shepherd’ prayers since she’s been at Vinny’s side today. No matter how badly she responds to me, I can’t be upset with the woman. I refuse to hold it against her. By putting in a good word to God, Jesus, Mary, or whoever the higher power might be, if there’s one at all, Nonna Romano is doing her part to help my closest friend. My only real friend.

  “I can leave if you prefer,” I mumble, filling the awkward silence when I see her lips have stopped mouthing whatever prayers she was repeating.

  “No,” she answers, her thick Italian accent stronger than ever from the extensive amount of time she spent in Italy this year. She carefully slips the rosary beads into the side pocket of her black leather purse tucked into her side under one armpit. “I go now.”

  “You really don’t have to,” I offer, my voice low and uncertain, feeling awkward and unsure what to do with my hands all of a sudden. It’s exactly how I used to feel when I first started working for Romano. I stuck out like a sore thumb in his organization back then, even though he and his family did everything to make me feel more at home around them.

  “It’s late. I go,” she barks, and turns toward me but doesn’t make eye contact. “You need to find her,” she adds, her voice flat as she takes a few steps away from Vinny’s hospital bed.

  “I’m doing everything I can,” I answer pleadingly. But no matter how much I do, it hasn’t been enough. The lack of results proves that. Natalia’s still somewhere out there. But I want Nonna to believe me, to believe in me. I’ve always sought this family’s approval. Their validation means more to me now than ever. Hers and Romano’s. The boss hasn’t made contact with any of us since he left. And even though he left me in charge, Nonna Romano is still the unofficial head of this family. I need her to stand with me and trust that I will find her granddaughter.

  “You need to do more,” she huffs. “How did this happen?”

  “I don't know, Nonna R—” I start to reply but she lifts one hand and motions for me to stop talking.

  “No!” she shouts. “I’m not that… not for you… no more Nonna. You call me what I am now. Mrs. Romano.” She lifts a cold, piercing stare to meet my gaze, a look that sends a chill straight to my spine. “You work for this famiglia. Do your job. Understand?”

  Her words hit me so hard in the chest that my gut clenches. But I don’t show it in my face. She has a point. She’s only saying the things that have been echoing through my thoughts night after night after night. The Romano family has treated me like family since the first day I met them. And all I’ve done since the boss put me in charge is fail. I didn’t hit the ground running when I became the interim boss. I’ve fallen flat on my face. Natalia is gone and I’m barely holding the organization together. I don’t deserve to be a part of this family. I need to earn it with results, and so far, I haven’t.

  I nod. “Yes, Mrs. Romano.”

  “You’re the new boss. My son said that you are, so you are. And bosses need to know something. You need to give me answers, not excuses. We have to find Natalia, do you understand?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Romano.”

  “This happened while you are the boss,” she states. “On your watch, Antonio. That means it’s your responsibility to make it right.”

  “I know it's my fault.”

  “Find out how this happened.”

  “We did,” I tell her. “It was the Pinuccis.”

  “No. They give information to somebody. Do you know who?”

  “Not yet.”

  “But you finish Lorenzo… did he talk? Did he tell you anything before you finish him?”

  “He didn’t,” I answer somewhat truthfully. But it’s a half lie. The real truth is I didn’t question him. My men did, for about three hours after they found him and took him to one of our warehouses to question him before I arrived. Not me. I couldn’t. I didn’t give him a chance to shed any light on Natalia’s kidnapping, her condition, or her whereabouts. I was so fucking mad when I made it inside the warehouse where they were keeping him. I couldn’t even look at him. My vision went blurry, my body went numb, and only one part of me swung into action.

  My dominant hand.

  Burning hot fingers took my handgun out of the holster, lifted the safety, aimed and squeezed a shot to that fucker’s head and one to his heart for double-crossing this family before I could see straight. The only way to learn what the Pinuccis know is to find Cristiano.

  “I’ll find Cristiano,” I promise solemnly. “Whatever it takes.”

  “I will keep talking to Mauro. But you, you have to do your job. Call in every favor that is owed to my son. Pay off whoever you need to pay off. Just find him. Then find my Natalia.”

  “I will.”

  “She has to be alive. My Natalia is out there. She is alone, and I know that she has to be wondering why we don’t find her yet. So do it fast,” she warns me.

  Folding my arms across my chest, I give her a sincere nod. “I will.”

  She takes another few steps in my direction and rests a hand on my folded forearm. “And after Cristiano tells you everything he knows… make sure you finish him too.”

  “Trust me. I'm going to make that piece of scum pay for this. For all of it.”

  “You make sure he suffers. Then make sure everyone inside and outside this organization know about it.” She squeezes my forearm a little. “People say my husband was ruthless but just. Cruel and cold, but fair. But that is why they would not dare to cross him. He knew. That is why he had his rules. Lead by example. Take every chance to send a message so that everyone knows how far he was willing to go. The time to be fair is finished. This is the time for justice.”

  “I'm going to fix this, Mrs. Romano. I promise. I’ll find her.”

  I take stock of all the fallout we’re faced with since the day the boss left. Vinny’s here in the clinic ICU fighting for his life, the other two men who were with him are dead, and Natalia is somewhere out there. I've used up resources and worked with so many leads and we still can’t find her. It's like the girl fell off the face of the Earth.

  7

  Natalia

  My legs and arms both want the same thing.

  They want to move.

  To run.

  And it’s giving me one hell of a case of jitters. It’s so bad that the plastic bag rustles, crackles and crunches more loudly between my trembling fingers, even though my arms are hanging numbly at my sides. There’s a part of me that’s sure that my reaction is the result of what I’ve been through these past few weeks. Can anyone really blame me for mistrusting everyone who crosses my path? The thing is, if I’m going to survive long enough to make it out of this town and far enough away to be safe, I have to find a way to re-hone my instincts. I don’t have to trust anyone, but fuck, I’m going to need to. There’s no way I can go through the next few days, few weeks, or months, all by myself.

  l need to have a fairly decent sense of people’s intentions.

  I force myself to take a breath and to calm the fuck down. Now is as good a time as any to begin working on my gut instinct. A quick scan down the woman’s body and I start to relax as I process all the information I’ve noticed about her.

  First, she’s married. The diamond and yellow gold wedding ring she wears is tight on her ring finger. I doubt she’s taken it off in a while. She’s also likely to be someone’s mom, which is pretty clear from the business card sized family photo keyring accessory dangling from her car keys, a photo with her at the center of it. Though, I can’t make heads or tails of the pewter colored old-style handgun souvenir hanging beside it. She must be pro-gun use. Which makes sense. I can’t recall whether I learned this back in one of my American history classes in high school or read it online somewhere, but if my memory is correct, Colorado is not one of the open carry states.

  The French manicure on her nails and on the four toes that are visible through the slip-on leather sandals she’s wearing is less than a week old, and I know that because the polish still gleams as though it was just done. There are chips on a few of her fingernails and a couple of tiny red scratches on the skin before the first joint of a couple of fingers, but her pedicure is still perfect, leading me to believe she must work with her hands in some way. I remember my nail chipping and getting mini scratches like that while I helped Nonna move some of her lighter furniture pieces around her room earlier in the year. She liked to rearrange her room every few months, just because. And if her bedroom door was open while she did it, I’d hear the dragging sounds through the wall and would always hurry to her side to help.

  Then there’s the woman’s hair. It’s pulled up into a high ponytail, but I can tell from the neat tips that she makes it to her hairdresser regularly to have it cut and styled.

  I make a snap judgment about who she is.

  A woman with a family and possibly her own business. Or a family-run business, given that it’s the middle of the day on a weekday.

  She’s not involved, where it relates to my abduction.

  Innocent.

  Potentially trustworthy, at least on the most basic human level.

  My nerves dial back a notch and I feel a little more satisfied with my observation skills. Even if it turns out that I’m wrong about this woman, the split-second exercise reminds me that I have the ability to set aside the intense trauma of my recent kidnapping ordeal for a few minutes at a time. Long enough to not be a terrified, jumpy little girl twenty-four-seven.

  The woman doesn’t notice me right away, and before I can pivot around or adjust my path to avoid her, she walks right into me without looking.

  “Aww shit!” she shouts, clearly without thinking, because she immediately covers her mouth almost as quickly as she said the mild curse word, her bright aquamarine eyes as wide as saucers. “Goodness, pardon my language, Miss. I didn’t see you there.”

  “It’s no problem, Ma’am,” I tell her, and try to lift my lips into a smile. It’s really hard, but I manage to relax my face a little.

  “It’s been such a crazy day,” she continues, speaking quickly in a tone that relaxes me further. “And I’m so behind as it is. My husband, Charlie must’ve sent me a dozen texts since I left him all by his lonesome to mind the store this morning.” She chuckles a little and raises one eyebrow. “You would think that after running a small motel, diner and general store for close to eighteen years he could survive a few hours without asking me where to find things and how to work the credit card machine. If he can hold his horses for another hour or so, I’ll finish the last of these deliveries. It’s like he plum forgot that I have yet another job tacked on to all the other work I already do, ever since our last daughter went off to college this fall. It’s not easy finding good staff in these small towns these days. It’s been weeks since we put up the help wanted sign in the store window, and we haven’t had any takers yet. Not one. I even had Charlie put up a poster at the high school and on the bulletin board at the grocery store on Highway 35.”

  I nod and smile as the woman prattles on about needing to finish the rest of her errands in spite of her husband being so dependent on her, confirming that my assessment of who she is and what she does for a living is pretty accurate. Spot on.

  And an idea forms.

  I need a roof over my head.

  She owns a small motel.

  I need more money to fund my new life.

  She has a job opening.

  I have no real experience.

  She’s willing to hire a high school student.

  The more she talks, the more positive I am that this woman is the solution to my current problem. At least temporarily.

  Before I have a chance to lose my nerve, I blurt out. “I’m new around here, Ma’am. And it just so happens that I’m looking for work… and a place to stay.”

  She eyes me up and down, and a wide, brilliant smile appears on her face. “Really? What’s your name, darling?”

  “Talia Rogers,” I answer. It’s an easy little white lie without being too far from the truth. Talia is a version of my first name, and Rogers, well it’s a stretch, but it’s close enough.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Talia Rogers. I’m Jeanie Wilmington. So you’re not from around here, huh? Where are you from, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “Back east,” I answer, giving no specifics.

  “Very nice. And what made you decide to pick this part of the country?”

  “I’m taking a gap year before college, Ma’am,” I lie. “To ski… and see the country.”

  “That’s great. My daughter was itching to take a gap year but decided against it when she was accepted at her first choice of college.” She looks down my body again, studying me again. “Do you have any restaurant or hardware experience? Or any experience cleaning motel rooms?”

  Removing my sunglasses and pulling the scarf from my head, I give her an eager smile. I want her to see the sincerity in my eyes and the resolve on my face. “I really don’t have much experience, Mrs. Wilmington, except for doing chores at home. But if you’re open to giving me a chance, you’ll see that I’m hard working… and I learn really quickly, Ma’am.”

  “Hmmm.” She looks me up and down again, then smiles. “I suppose there’s no harm giving you a shot. How about you follow me in your car so you can meet my husband and see the place? It’ll give you an idea of the work that’s involved, and where you’ll stay.”

  “I took the bus,” I blurt out the blatant lie, then I take a second to form my thoughts and come up with something more believable to explain why I have no car, no clothes, no ID, nothing. “Ma’am, to be honest, I kind of left home in a bit of a hurry. I was having a difficult time…my home situation was… tough.”

  “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry to hear that, Talia.” She reaches an arm across my shoulder warmly, and I recoil slightly. And Mrs. Wilmington notices. My blood runs cold from her simple touch before I can think about how I should react. Trying to downplay my reaction, I lift my scarf back up onto my head and slip on the sunglasses. Already, I hate what being taken, probably drugged, and caged up like an animal has done to me. “I didn’t mean to scare you. God knows you’ve probably been through so much already. Too much... Believe you me, I can understand what that must be like. My dearest friend, Sarah-Jean from back in high school, well, she had to run away from home more than a few times. She didn’t have it easy, with both her folks on and off painkillers, alcohol, and God knows what else. My parents let her stay with us as long as she needed. But that’s beside the point…” She stops and clicks the remote car key in her other hand, pointing it at a gray Chevy Silverado pickup truck to unlock her vehicle. “We’ll figure the rest out once you’ve had some food to eat, and a decent night’s sleep. You look exhausted, darling. Sound good?”

  I nod and try to smile. “It does, Mrs. Wilmington. Thank you. I really appreciate your kindness.”

  “Great. Let’s get you home.”

  A pang of fear and uncertainty comes over me again as we cross the road and approach her truck. Should I really do this? Is this my best option right now? Is it a good idea to potentially put my life at risk again by trusting a stranger? Just getting into her car is causing a mini panic attack in my chest, let alone the idea of living and working alongside her and her husband.

  Time and fate, and coincidence, however, don’t allow me to give those questions much airtime. In the few seconds that I’m standing near the front of her vehicle, waiting for her to click and unlock the passenger side door, a glint of light reflecting against metal catches my eye, and I turn in time to see a big, black SUV with dark tinted windows flip on its indicator light and turn into the gas station. Two massive walls of men covered in ink step out of the back doors, visibly looking for something… or someone. My fight or flight instincts go into overdrive at the sight of them wearing t-shirts, black leather motorcycle vests, and dusty jeans, and one of them has a handgun tucked into the waistband of his jeans. As their arms are covered in tattoos, I can't help but assume the worst.

  It’s them.

  My captors.

  They’re here and they’re looking for me.

  I don’t hesitate. I hop into the passenger side of Mrs. Wilmington’s pickup truck and I keep my head facing forward. Maybe she really is the solution to my current problem. The men looking for me are searching for one girl all by herself, not a girl accompanied by a middle-aged woman who might be her mother.

  For now, sticking with her is the only way out of here.

  8

  Antonio

  Whoever took her, they're going to fucking pay.

  Every damn person who played a part in her kidnapping is going to pay.

  They’ll pay with their fucking useless lives.

  I was willing to die for her, but now I'm ready to kill for her.

  Again.

  Lorenzo Pinucci won’t be the only casualty of this war. Cristiano will pay next, and then, everyone else.

  Romano is still in hiding.

  Fuck, he might be dead for all I know.