Dealer and his Bestowed Bride (The Rossi Family Mafia Book 2) (2 page)

The men in front of me stopped and so did I. My hands were shaking, so I gripped my messenger bag until my knuckles were white in hopes they didn’t notice my tremors.
 

The bodyguards threw the creeper against one of the alley’s sticky brick walls. He grunted on impact and slumped down.

“Hey man, I-I was just trying to help-” the fear in his voice was palpable. “She’ll tell you, I was just helping her shoot. Right, Pipes?”

Mr. Armento raised his hand to his lips to hide a grin.
 

“Really Piper?” he said, slyly, a hint of his Italian accent showing through as he spoke. “Have you become so rusty since we last worked together that you need lessons?”

I glared down at the man that had assaulted me in the gun range. He knew full well that he wasn’t there to help, he was there to touch me and use me—like all other men did.
 

“Very funny, Armento.” My voice was steady and firm. “If I needed lessons, I would learn from someone with better manners.”

“That’s what I thought,” he chuckled. The boss nodded to one of his guards, then walked with me, taking my arm and turning me away from them like a gentleman.

Behind me, I heard the muffled sounds of a bullet being shot from a silencer. The only sounds after were gurgles as the creeper drowned in his own blood. Or, so I assumed. Mr. Armento wasn’t going to let me see the carnage, even if I wasn’t a real lady.

“Why are you here?” I asked as we left the alley.
 

“I was looking for you and heard that you’ve been coming here every Thursday,” he nodded toward the range sign.
 

“Ladies night.” I replied with a shrug. He smiled and turned toward a shiny black car. When we were a few feet away, a man stepped out of the driver’s side door and came around to open the curbside door for us. His kept eyes lowered. Armento trained his employees well. I knew, since I used to be one of them.

“After you,” He told me, motioning toward the open seat. I looked back toward the alleyway. I watched as one of the large henchmen backed a car into the alley, blocking it off from any wandering eyes.
 

“He’ll be dealt with. Nothing that concerns you.”

I gave a small dip of the head before stepping into the car. It had been two years since I’d stepped into such a luxurious vehicle. I slid over to make room for the boss, who sat next to me. The driver closed the door behind him, leaving us in silence.
 

My body was tense, but my mind was strangely calm. Soon, we were headed off toward God-knows where. I just hoped that I wouldn’t end up in the back of a van like the creeper had.

“I have a job for you.” Mr. Armento said as he adjusted his horn-rimmed glasses.
 

“You’re assuming I’m looking for work,” I replied. A risky response from someone who’d just watched him murder a stranger in cold blood. In any case, he smiled.
 

“I think you’ll change your mind once you see the offer,” he reached into his breast pocket and came out with a check.
 

When the paper hit my hands, I counted the zeroes and almost fainted. After a few more seconds of silence, I turned my head to look the man straight in the eye.

“What do you need me to do?”
 

...For the first time in a long time, I was bored.

Bored of this damn club. Bored of the women that filled it. Bored of the drug dealers that were bad at their jobs.

There were women on both sides of me. We sat in the VIP area on red, plush couches. They were donned in tight dresses that would probably work better as tube socks. Their drinks were pink, expensive, and all on the house. My mind did the math. Damn it, those girls had sipped through two hundred dollars worth of drinks and it wasn’t even close to closing time.

I sighed and looked out over my club. It was one of three that my brother and I were in charge of across New Jersey and New York. This one was the smallest, closest to home, and filled with the class-less clientele. I expected there to be at least one fight from the crowd in front of me. The bouncers were on high alert, more focused on the club than the reason they guarded the doors.
 

The DJ was just finishing up her set and would soon be replaced by the one who liked to get high throughout his performance. As long as the music kept playing, I couldn’t care less.
 

It was Thursday night and the place was crowded for a weekday. Tanned strangers writhed around and called it dancing, trying to hook up with each other and forget about their mundane lives.

I wish there was a way I could forget about mine.

I saw a person enter the VIP area from my left. Turning to greet them with raised eyebrows, I immediately felt like I was looking into a mirror. It was my twin, my brother and partner in crime, Simone. He was average height, with dark brown hair that curled slightly at the ends. As long as I kept my mouth shut, no one could tell us apart. As he glanced back at me, he gave me the look that told me he needed me alone. I was happy to oblige.

“Out,” I snapped my fingers at the women, awaking them from their drunken glances. It took them a few seconds to realize I was kicking them out.

“What?” the brunette in the green dress shrieked.
 

“Can you at least buy us a drink first?”

“OUT!” I repeated, standing up and straightening my blue suit. They struggled to stand and then wobbled out on their impossible heels.

It took a few minutes before they were able to slink past Simone and out onto the dance floor, leaving the VIP area empty. Only then, did my brother take a seat next to me and let his guard down a bit. His hands were holding a tablet, like most days. I was the face of the business, he was the one pulling the strings and balancing the books behind the scenes.
 

“Look at this,” he told me.

I groaned. Dammit, I knew what was coming as I glanced at the numbers on the shining device.

“We are barely covering our expenses,” Simone said in his matter-of-fact tone. I watched him as he panned down the list of costs. His body language was stiff. This was the same talk he had given me last month and he was starting to grow weary of bugging me about it.

“What do you say we do?”

“If it were me?” He motioned his head toward the two girls who had been in the VIP area. “I would stop buying drinks for every set of legs with a heartbeat in this place.”

“It gives women incentive to come, and makes the VIP area seem … I don’t know … VIP?”
 

“When was the last time someone actually ordered bottle service?” Simone said.
 

Never.
 

I stood up from the sofa and walked a few steps so my back was facing him. He didn’t like that, but I couldn’t care less. The DJ had changed to the forever-high man and he was bobbing his head and pretending to turn knobs to his pre-recorded track.
 

“Just launder more money,” I said, still watching the crowd. Crossing my arms behind my back. I knew what Simone’s answer would be before the words even left his mouth.
 

“We are pushing it as it is with our outside funding.”
 

He was right. The drug operation that was the lifeblood of all three of the clubs was a balancing act. In order to stay under the radar, the club needed to look like it was successful. The current clientele, the ones who begged for free drinks and snuck in without paying the cover, made it difficult to funnel millions into the club’s books. The laundering had to be gradual, so the percentage of drug money we put in our coffers was on the low side.
 

“Luca.” I felt Simone’s hand on my shoulder. I finally turned to look at my twin brother. The stress was clear in his features. The wrinkle between his eyebrows was creased and his eyes were lidded with a dark look about them.
 

“We need to cut expenses, do some promotions, something. We can’t just focus on our side venture and forget that we’re running a business.”

I nodded curtly. “We’ll figure something out.” I replied.
 

Simone’s shoulders lowered and he massaged the bridge of his nose. “You always say that.”
 

“But we—”
 

“Always figure something out,” he finished for me. “I know. But I’d rather not go bankrupt in the process.”

“Does Father know about this?” I asked, gripping the metal that fenced in the VIP area. Our father, the kingpin of New Jersey and one of the most well-loved Mafia bosses in the United States. There wasn’t much you could hide from him. If he were to find out the club was failing, he would take it out from under me in a second.
 

“No,” Simone replied. He glanced back down at his tablet. “I can futz some numbers in Q3, but I’m not a miracle worker.”

My hand moved up to hold my chin in thought. “Do it. The last thing I want is him giving away what we built to our brothers.”

We stood for a few moments, not speaking to each other, allowing the bad news to sink in. The bass from the speakers vibrated through me as I watched the sweaty bodies in the group bounce against each other. Even though the music was loud, I could barely hear it over my own thoughts.
 

Fuck.

Out of all of my brothers, Simone and I had been the ones that built a business. Rather than work the streets selling drugs, we built an empire in Jersey. If it were to fall apart … I couldn’t even think about it.
 

There was a large bang on the other side of the building that piqued my interest. I had barely looked up before I saw some interesting movement by the door.
 

Simone was standing by me in an instant, his eyes squinting to look into the distance. He was a bit more perceptive than I was, and from the way he tensed, I knew something was up.
 

Usually, the bouncers at the front would be outside in order to make sure minors couldn’t come in as people were searched for drugs. However, I could see the hulking figures of our men inside peeking over the crowd.
 

They were running.
 

Everywhere they passed, people stopped dancing and stood out of their way. However, the crowd was so huge it was blocking my view.

I pointed at the bodyguard who stood at the entry of the VIP area. “What’s going on?”
 

All he could do was shrug. You could tell he was nervous; his hand was wavering over the place where he kept his gun. That didn’t make me feel any better.
 

I stood next to him, wondering if I should have my Glock on me. I usually didn’t wear it on nights when I wasn’t expecting one of my drug men to come in. That was probably a mistake.
 

We waited. Soon, the crowd parted and three men rushed through. Two bouncers stood, holding a wounded man between them. They rushed up to the VIP area and they looked at me like deer caught in the headlights. They both stared, waiting to hear what I would say.
 

There was a reason that my father left me in charge of the drug trade in New Jersey. I was good at hiding my panic.
 

I blinked, casually looking up and down at the wounded man. Immediately, I recognized him. He was a short guy; a pot bellied man from New York. His name was Rick … Nick … no, Dick?
 

Whatever his name was, he was doubled over and grasping his side. A nasty dark red had crept across his front. The strong smell of iron hit my nostrils. Blood.

Dick/Nick/Rick was the type of guy who was loyal to a fault. He employed good men and his specialty was getting drugs from one place to another. Our local warehouse was where we would package cocaine, meth, and marijuana and distribute it locally. He was the one who was the head of the warehouse.

I nodded to the guards and they rushed to let him inside. As the two men placed him on my red-velvet couch, I leaned in to the VIP guard.
 

“Keep the music going, make it louder. Offer free drinks to those who saw whatever that was, and keep an eye on social media for any pictures.”

He nodded back and was lost in the crowd. Simone looked at me like I had two heads. After giving me a lecture on money, here I was offering free drinks to half of the crowd. He didn’t understand. If one person put an image of the wounded man on social media, the cops would tear our club apart. I didn’t think our books would stand up to such scrutiny.
 

“What are you doing?” Simone’s voice was like ice.

I ignored his question, raising my hand to point to my twin. “Call the men at the other clubs. I need them here in fifteen. Bring the big guns.”

We stared at each other for a second. After a moment, I thought he was going to punch me. Instead, he pulled out his phone and started to text our men. They were all drug runners and criminals, and we would need them if this was an attack on our turf.
 

“Move.” I said, turning my back to Simone and shooing the guards away. They stepped back from the injured man and stood on alert. The music in the club got a bit louder and the DJ was starting to dance more intensely. Hopefully it would distract whoever was interested in what was going on in the VIP area.
 

I kneeled next to the injured man, grabbing his shoulder in support.
 

“Dick, right?” I asked.

“R-Rick,” he gasped in pain and then grimaced.

“Right.” I glanced down at his wound. “Who did this to you? Why aren’t you in the hospital?”

It took a few breaths for him to find his words. “I had t-to warn you …” He about coughed his lungs out and I was starting to get impatient. I shook his shoulder.
 

“Warn me about what, Rick? WHAT?”
 

“T-The Russians …” he said. I could barely hear him over the music. “T-they attacked the w-warehouse.”

My blood ran cold. The Russians had been getting antsy lately. My father would often complain about them when we met at his house for Sunday brunch. They didn’t adhere to the boundaries we drew for drug trade. In the past month, we had two low-level scuffles already on the streets between the Mafia and the Rooskies.