Fearless: Mob Boss Book Two (Volume 2) (2 page)

3

“Why don’t you just call him?” Lauren asked the question from across the record store where she was alphabetizing a new shipment.

“What would be the point? Nothing’s changed,” Angel said.

She sprayed the glass door at the front of the store with window cleaner, then used long strokes to wipe it off. She’d quit her job at the Muddy Cup as soon as she’d gotten back from her father’s funeral. She would never be able to work there again, never be able to lock up at night without thinking about the moment she’d been kidnapped by Nico’s men. It didn’t matter that Luca, one of her abductors, had become a friend during her captivity, or that she’d fallen in love with Nico. Dante was still out there, and even though Luca told her he’d been spotted in Brazil, the knowledge that he was free bothered her like an itch she couldn’t scratch. She didn’t want to relieve the moment it had all began, and she was grateful when Lauren put in a word for her at the record store.

“Perspectives change,” Lauren said, dropping the last record into place. “Sometimes things look different after some time has passed.”

“He killed my father,” Angel said softly.

“But he did it to protect you, right?”

Angel could feel her friend’s eyes on her back. Lauren was right, but it wasn’t that simple. Angel had told Nico not to fire, had told him to leave, that she would be okay. Now it was impossible to know if he’d pulled the trigger to protect her or if some part of him—maybe a big part—had done it to avenge the murder of his parents.

It’s not like she would blame him. Even outside the context of the law, unsanctioned killings of Syndicate family members were forbidden. Her father had killed Nico’s parents to gain a foothold in the New York City territory. He’d done it for greed, plain and simple. She could understand why felt the need for vengeance.

“It’s more complicated than that,” Angel said, crossing to the register. She avoided Lauren’s eyes as she put the window cleaner under the counter.

“Maybe,” Lauren said. “I just hate to see you like this.”

Angel tried to laugh. “Like what?”

Lauren shrugged, her curly brown hair bouncing around her shoulders. “Sad. Sadder than usual.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Angel asked.

“You’ve always been sad, Angie,” Lauren said. “But this feels different.”

“My dad was murdered,” Angel said.

Lauren knew that much; that Angel had been kidnapped and held for ransom. That she’d fallen in love with the man who had held her captive. But Angel had been spare with the rest of the details, telling Lauren that things had gone bad at the end and Nico had saved her life but accidentally shot her father. She hadn’t told Lauren the rest; that her father had been a notorious mob boss. That compared to him, Nico looked almost like an upstanding citizen. Her father may have given her and David a different last name to protect himself, but in the end it had saved them from being associated with the Rossi crime empire. It was the only saving grace in a long line of shitty things that had happened since Nico’s men grabbed her last October. The fact that the showdown with her father’s men had happened in London helped; US news outlets weren’t interested in much if it didn’t happen within their country’s borders.

“Have you thought about counseling?” Lauren asked, joining her behind the counter.

“I’m not ready to talk about it like that,” Angel said. The words came out with more vehemence than she intended, and Lauren held up her hands in a gesture of surrender.

“Just a suggestion.”

Angel sighed. “I know, and I appreciate that you care. I just need some more time to figure things out.”

Lauren grinned. “Maybe some Thai food will help.” She dug around in her bag. “I’ll go pick up lunch.”

“Let me give you money,” Angel said, reaching for her bag.

“I got this one,“ Lauren said. “You can catch me next time.”

Angel smiled. “Thanks.”

“No worries.” She headed for the door. “Back in fifteen minutes.”

The bell on the door jingled as she stepped outside, and Angel was left alone in the quiet of the empty store. The majority of their customers were college students looking to kill time, but every now and then a collector would come in to buy one of the more valuable LPs. George, the owner of the store, must have made his money that way, because the store was nearly always empty.

She put Brand New on the turntable that was hooked up to the speakers, then started sweeping the old linoleum floor. She’d learned the hard way that silence was the enemy. That was when thoughts of Nico came creeping back, when she would see his panther eyes darken with desire as he tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, feel his breath on her lips in the moment before he lowered his mouth to hers. Then everything would come back to her—the safety she’d felt in his arms even when it didn’t make sense, the completion she felt when he drove into her, making her his in a way no man ever had, in a way she feared no man would again.

She sang along to the record, slowly letting go of her thoughts. She’d protested the first time Lauren showed up at her apartment, determined to take Angel to her weekly meditation class. But it had been surprisingly helpful, and before long Angel actually looked forward to the sessions. It was the only time silence was tolerable, and willing her mind blank had become a kind of contest to see how long she could go without thinking of Nico.

The bell on the door rang, and Angel was surprised to see that Lauren had already returned.

“That was fast,” Angel said. But she knew right away something was wrong. Lauren’s eyes were wide, her chest rising and falling like she’d been running. “What’s up?”

Lauren set her bag on the counter, then met Angel’s eyes. “That guy… the one who kidnapped you…”

“Nico?”

Lauren nodded. “Nico Vitale, right?”

Fear unspooled in Angel’s stomach, and she fought against the tide of panic. Had something happened to him? “What’s going on?”

“I was waiting for the food,” Lauren said. “They had the TV on the news. They showed his picture…”

Angel forced her voice steady. “What are you saying?”

“Someone close to him was killed. They’re talking about the mob, Angel. Using words like execution.” Her face was a mask of shock and worry. “Is that true? Is he part of the mafia?”

“What else did they say?” Angel asked, already rushing to grab her bag.

“Angel… this is not—”

“Just tell me what they said, Lauren,” Angel snapped. “Please.”

Lauren took a deep breath. “They said he’s in hiding.”

Angel headed for the door. “I have to go.”

4

Angel paced the floor of her apartment while the phone rang in her ear. Luca had given her his number when he’d called to tell her about Dante. She hadn’t thought she would use it. She liked Luca, had come to trust him, but she’d thought her association with Nico and everyone in the Vitale family was over.

She cursed when his voice mail picked up. “Luca, it’s Angel. I just saw the news… What’s going on? Is…” She lowered her voice, like someone might hear her ask about the man who killed her father. Like someone might know she cared so much that her heart was in her throat at the thought of something happening to him. “Is Nico okay? Please… just… call me and let me know, okay?”

She hung up and walked to the window overlooking the street below. Kids from the nearby college mingled with older people—many of them former students and teachers who had never left. It suddenly seemed so small, so removed from everything that really mattered. What was she doing here? How long was she going to hide?

She jumped as the phone rang in her hand. “Luca?”

“Angel,” he said. “Hi.”

“What’s going on? I just saw the news.” She’d opened her computer as soon she’d gotten home from the record store, devouring everything she could find on the breaking story of Carmine Alfiero’s execution.

“It’s complicated,” Luca said. “Is something wrong there? Are you okay?”

His questions threw her. “Me? I’m fine. Tell me what’s going on.”

He hesitated. “Nico wouldn’t want you involved.”

“That’s not his call.” She softened her voice. “Is he okay? I need to know, Luca.”

He sighed, and she could almost see the worry in his blue eyes, the way he set his mouth into a thin line when he was trying to figure out what to do. “I don’t know. He’s not here.”

“Well… where is he?” she asked.

“I don’t know. Things have been… unstable.”

“What does that mean?”

She heard his voice, muffled as he talked to someone else in the room, before he came back on the line. “It’s a long story, Angel. Someone’s after us, after Nico. We’re not sure what’s going on, but he’s in hiding until we figure out what to do next.”

“In hiding…” She took a deep breath. “Thanks, Luca.”

“Angel, what are you—”

She hung up before he could say anything else, then pulled her overnight bag out of the closet. It took her less than ten minutes to pack and ten more to hit the highway.

She pulled onto the I84 and veered toward the water just north of Boston. The sun cast a blanket of diamonds over the Atlantic, bluer and brighter than it had been in November. She rolled down her window and let the briny smell of the sea wash over her as Nico’s face filled her mind. She could never be near the ocean without thinking of him now, and she let the memories come, tears rolling down her face as she drove.

She’d stopped expecting it to make sense a long time ago. She loved him. It wasn’t a product of her captivity or some kind of twisted delusion about who he was inside. She knew him. Knew him like she knew herself. She knew his tenderness and his kindness. Had seen his ferocious protectiveness over those he loved, his determination to do the most right thing in a business that was about as far from right as it could get.

She knew the other stuff, too. Knew he was a criminal. That he’d hurt and killed people, her father included, and that the work he did was in large part illegal. All of it should have been enough to stop the way she felt about him, especially with the distance between them after her father’s death. But while it had been impossible to stay with him, to look at him in the wake of the loss, she’d never once convinced herself she didn’t love him.

And there was something else; a question Luca had asked her the last time she’d seen him. They’d been outside the hospital before Dante’s escape. Unable to face Nico, she’d been on her way to the airport to get on a plane back to the US.

“He did it to protect you, Angel,” Luca had said. “You know that.”

She had looked away, not wanting to see the plea in Luca’s eyes. “He went too far.”

“Really?” Luca had asked. “How far would you go to protect the ones you love?”

The question was still ringing in her ears months later. She wanted to believe she would walk the line more carefully than Nico, that if push came to shove, she would find away around bloodshed. But the truth is, she didn’t know the answer.

Now she could almost feel Nico out there, pulling her in like he had since the first moment he’d captured her with his amber eyes.

She pulled off the main road and headed for Bass Harbor, a tiny town set in a sheltered cove dotted with boats. She parked in tiny lot overlooking the harbor, grabbed her bag out of the back seat, and headed away from the busy waterfront.

She continued along the water, heading toward the small beach houses and cottages that belonged to the people who lived there full time. She almost held her breath waiting for the dock to come into sight. Would it still be there? Had she imagined it all?

But no. A few minutes later, she saw the small platform that jutted out into the water. The boat wasn’t there, and she sat down on the dock, letting her legs dangle over the water, hoping she wouldn’t have to wait until morning. It was dusk, the sun setting over land somewhere beyond her shoulders. She could have called Nico. He’d told her as much when she’d seen him after her father’s funeral.

If you need anything—anything at all—I’ll be there.

She hadn’t really thought she’d need him, not the way he meant. But still she’d kept his number, his name in her phone a tether to something she wasn’t quite ready to let go.

The temperature dropped as the sun sunk lower in the sky, and she rubbed her arms, hoping she wouldn’t have to wait until morning. A half hour later, she was about ready to walk into town and look for a cheap hotel when the sound of a boat motor got her attention. She followed the sound out over the water with her eyes, not daring to hope it was the right boat until it came into view. Or more accurately, until it’s driver came into view.

She stood up and walked to the end of the dock as the boat coasted to a stop. The driver climbed out of the boat.

“Can’t take you,” he said as he tied the ropes to the steel cleats on the dock.

“You have to,” she said. “I can’t find my way back without you.”

“Can’t,” he said, still not looking at her. “Don’t work for you.”

She swallowed hard, trying to think of the best way to make her case. “He… he needs my help.”

It wasn’t a gripping argument, but she thought it might just be the truth.

Ed looked up at her, his face creased with too many early mornings, too much salt and wind. He stood, staring at her silently for a long minute before speaking.

“I imagine you might be right about that.”

“So you’ll take me?” she asked.

He nodded. “Might mean my job, but I’d rather lose it than leave him out there like he is.” He looked up at the sky. “Better get in, though. It’ll be dark soon.”

5

Nico watched the sky darken from the deck. It was soothing watching the water change from deep green to gray, then black as the light disappeared from the sky, and he let his mind drift to the two days he’d spent on the island with Angel. The waves crashing against the rocks, the rain battering the windows while he made love to her. While he made her his, exploring every curve and crevice of the body that had been made for him.

It was an exquisite kind of torture, but he must have been a masochist, because he didn’t want it to end. Didn’t want to let her go, even in his memory. Some days she seemed so close he could hear her say his name, breathless, the way she did right before she came. Other times he woke from the depths of sleep with her voice in his ear.

I love you, Nico.

The way she’d said it during the hours when they had been in a universe of their own making, the world dark and sleeping.

But as unbearable as the memories sometimes were, the other times were worse; the times when she seemed so far away he had to remind himself that she was in New York, just a couple of hours from the city. Then it seemed like she had had been a figment of his imagination, a fever dream he would spend the rest of his life trying to recapture.

He noticed with surprise that night had fallen, and the beach had disappeared below the deck. He could hear the waves rushing toward the house, but he could no longer see them. He finally went inside to pour himself another drink.

He left the massive glass doors open, the sheer curtains billowing in the almost-summer breeze rolling in off the water. He couldn’t afford to think about Angel now. He had bigger problems.

He poured some vodka into his glass and walked back outside, leaning on the railing of the deck. He still couldn’t believe Carmine was dead. The older man had been an honorary uncle since Nico’s birth, had been a fixture at every birthday party, every graduation. He’d helped Nico through the murder of his parents, had urged Nico to plan his moves carefully when Nico had wanted to indiscriminately unleash his fury. Nico hadn’t always taken the older man’s advice, but knowing it was there had been a comfort. And while Luca was as loyal as they came, it was Carmine who had the years of experience with the Syndicate—most of them working under Nico’s father. In a business that bred suspicion, Carmine was one of very few people Nico trusted with his life.

And he’d been gunned down like a dog, just like Nico’s parents.

Nico didn’t understand it. His business had obviously been under attack for the past few months, but the disturbances had been minor—hijacked shipments, missing soldiers, suspicious activity on the servers that were locked down tighter than Fort Knox, guarded by hackers so skilled that Nico had recruited them from the FBI as part of his plans to modernize the centuries old business of organized crime.

Carmine’s death was an execution. A message.

But Carlo Rossi was dead, and as far as Nico knew, there wasn’t anyone loyal enough to him to seek revenge. Frank Morra had been Carmine’s Consigliere, but Frank was even older than Carmine. More importantly, Frank was soft, apathetic. It was hard to imagine him even running the business in Carlo’s absence, let alone planning a takedown of Nico, whose family had been the envy of the Syndicate until the mess with Angel and her father.

So who then? Who had both the motivation and ambition to come after the Vitale family so aggressively?

He thought about Dante. His former soldier had never worried him. He was a psychopath for sure; someone who’d had several run-ins with the law and more than one charge of violence against a woman. It was something Nico didn’t tolerate in his organization, although he’d tried to be patient right up until Dante had put his hands on Angel. Then it had been over. He’d ordered a beating severe enough to send a message and banished Dante from the family for good.

He hadn’t been surprised when Dante turned up working for Carlo, but was Dante smart enough and ambitious enough to attempt a takedown of the Vitale family? Could he rally the resources to follow him into this kind of battle? And if not Dante, then who? This kind of move took manpower. It took airtight loyalty. Who in the Syndicate could pull together all of those pieces in the few months since Carlo’s death?

Frustrated all over again, he ran a hand through his hair and finished his drink, relishing the warmth of it on its way down his throat. He hated being exiled to the island on Maine, especially with Angel’s ghost everywhere he looked. He had left only to give Luca and Vincent time to calm things down in New York, but he would be back soon enough. He would find out who had done this, and he would kill them.

He was contemplating the merit of another drink when he heard the hum of a boat. He held still, trying to get a read on its direction. Sound moved strangely across water, bouncing and bending in ways that made it difficult to pinpoint. The odds of anyone being out this far after dark were slim. Still, he couldn’t afford to take any chances. He went inside to get his gun.