Russo: His Untold Story (Blacklisted #3)

By Maria Delaurentis

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Russo is the third and final title in the Blacklisted series, and tells the entire story from Michael Russo’s perspective. Should you wish to read the story from Gabriella’s perspective, I strongly recommend you grab copies of the first two titles, Blacklisted and Incriminated.

You can grab a copy of each title from Amazon.com or use the following links:

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00O2ZJP6O

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00QKWLJ4S

RUSSO
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2015 by Maria Delaurentis. All rights reserved.

Reproduction in whole or part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited.

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My parents were good people, ya know? All that shit everyone says: honest, loving, loyal, warm—everyone loved them. People came to Russo and Son’s for the food, but they also came for the atmosphere that my parents had created over time. People loved the music, the laughter—the love, it was evident in everything they did. My father had prepped me for the business, urging me to go to school, involving me in the finances. The older he got the less responsibility he wanted to deal with, he just wanted to spend time with my mother and his customers—he wanted to enjoy himself. That was what I loved about my father, he always put people first—no amount of money could get him to turn away from the people that mattered to him.

But maybe that was the issue all along. His brother Carlisle hadn’t been the same, though my father desperately tried to hide that from me. Zio Carlisle had been a made man, high up in the ranks, always mysteriously endin’ up with new things. If only he had been more like my father, more honest—maybe things wouldn’t have gone the way they did.

I’d be stupid to say I didn’t pay attention to the inner workings of this city. Who hired who, who paid for protection, who was pushed outta business-- the politics, if you will. Genovese kept the town on lock, and no one batted an eyelash. We accepted life as it was, and kept to ourselves. I still remember the day Genovese darkened my doorstep, tellin’ me that my father, Vinny as he was affectionately called, had made a deal I’d have to hold up. I knew it was a load of bullshit, my father would never get mixed with these scumbags willingly, and as long as Zio Carlisle was mixed into it they left us alone. The only thing that could make any sense is that Zio was trying to get out of the life, which meant it was open season for Russo’s. Little things started to go wrong, a window broken in the middle of the night—a whole order of liquor stolen, but we kept pushing on, ignoring it all.

The night my parents were killed, the restaurant burned down… it’ll never leave my memories. I had been in the city for business training on some new software. My cellphone was buzzing in my pocket repeatedly though I never bothered to look. Imagine my surprise when I pulled it out to 17 missed calls from Mrs. Martinelli and Mrs. Rossi.” Your parents are gone. The restaurant’s gone,” the voicemail had said. I didn’t bother to listen to the others, just drove back as fast I could.

Everything was charred, unrecognizable—destroyed. The coroner had already taken the bodies, stating that Mrs. Martinelli had ID’d them already. Faulty wiring was all they kept telling me, but I knew better. We had just upgraded everything in the restaurant a year prior, when I officially took over. They were gone, my business was gone and I had nothing. I holed up in my apartment, dousing every memory of them with whatever liquor was closest to me. I blacked out for days at a time, kept my cellphone off, let the electricity get turned off—what did it matter. What was left for me? It took months for me to see straight, for me to get back on my feet. My aunt, uncle and cousins tried their hardest to reach me but I was too far gone. Zio Carlisle would never know how much I blamed him for this.              

I needed to get past this. I needed to find a way to move on with my life, no matter how difficult it was. Weeks went by where I pieced together the “empire” that Genovese reigned over. I stayed in the shadows, letting everyone think I was still off sulking in my apartment. I followed him, taking note of his businesses, his associates, his girlfriends. With every day that passed my hatred for him grew. So many lives he destroyed, and his only concern was that there wasn’t a wrinkle in his stupid fucking suit. Day after day, my routine stayed the same. I slithered through the alleys and down side streets, tracing his every move. I knew when he would be certain places, and who would be with him. He ran a lot of business out of Alec’s, a strip club that was popular with his types.

I often sat in a far off corner, watching as he summoned girls, tossing them a little extra money to take good care of his associates. But one night, one finally turned him down. I remember noticing her prior to Genovese. She had startling features, a knockout if there ever was one. Dark brown hair slid down her curvy shape, and dark doe like eyes that had a spark to them. That little costume Alec put the girls in left little to the imagination, and I found myself amazed that for the first time in months I was actually attracted to a girl. I found myself grimacing as she approached the VIP, trying not to picture what Genovese would do with her. But as I watched their exchange, I could tell things weren’t going so well. I smirked a little when I saw her pull away and stomp off, heading in the direction of Alec’s office. I wasn’t surprised when I saw her walk out a few minutes later, disappointment and anger clearly taking over. Alec had probably let her go; he couldn’t chance having Genovese being upset. One more life fucked up… one more reason to get my revenge.

I followed her that night. I knew it was a little stalkerish but my curiosities had gotten the better of me. She moved from street to street, occasionally glancing around her. She was aware of her surroundings, and quick to get home—smart girl. I watched as she slipped inside an older apartment building, but my curiosity still wasn’t fully satisfied. I continued to follow her, giving us enough space that she wouldn’t be weirded out. She took the stairs up, and I lingered a full flight beneath her until I heard the door of her floor slam shut. I quickly rushed to it and opened it, peaking around the frame until I could see what apartment she went into. I made a mental note and headed back downstairs; this wouldn’t be my last time here.

Week after week I watched her, and I wasn’t the only one. Genovese’s goons followed her from place to place, keeping their distance as I had—though as usual they didn’t notice me. That’s what happens when you’re too cocky—you stop paying attention.

I had to admit, the girl was tenacious. Genovese’s thugs had given her about a week before they went into her job and “spoke” to the boss. I wasn’t sure what Genovese had told them but I watched as they stopped her outside, speaking quietly. I loved the way her hands flew around, her eyes bulged, her nostrils flared. The words “fuck off” had come out of her mouth more than once, and when she shoved through them and walked off they didn’t follow. I knew she’d be heading to her yoga class now; her routine was pretty easy to remember. She didn’t hang out with anyone her age, didn’t see anyone outside of her job (when she had one) or her apartment. I was positive there couldn’t be a boyfriend in the picture—what schmuck would let this happen to his girl? Her class was about an hour long, and close to her apartment. I figured an hour would give me ample time to figure out what I wanted to know.

Sneaking into her apartment was easy, and I found myself a little concerned that it had taken little to no effort. Once inside I shut the door quietly and moved to the kitchen, observing every inch of the room. It was small, but cozy. She had a few recipes taped to the fridge, and pots hanging from the walls. Antique oil and vinegar bottles sat on the counter; similar to the ones my mother had kept in her kitchen. I moved to her living room, eyeing the small couch and modest sized television. She clearly wasn’t interested in luxury. A small pile of mail sat on the coffee table and I picked a piece up, the corner of my lips turning up. Gabriella. What a pretty name.

I glanced down at my watch, sighing when I realized she’d be back in about twenty minutes. I made a few more sweeps of the rooms, including her bedroom which I knew I’d have to revisit again. I made sure to lock the door and pull it tightly shut, hoping I had left everything in its right place. Once I was outside I moved across the street and waited, wanting to know she got home okay.

Like clockwork, she made her way back in about twenty minutes, the goons travelling behind in a black SUV—typical. I couldn’t tell how aware of it she was; though I had a feeling she knew they were following her. I had to get more information—I had to figure out a way to make this all work.

I continued to skulk around Alec’s, sitting as close to Genovese’s area as possible. It was tricky to be here—most of these guys would recognize me. Thankfully, there ain’t a lotta light in strip clubs. After three nights of keeping my ear to the wall, I had heard all I needed. Genovese was determined to have Gabriella by his side. He wanted a girlfriend outta her, something that wasn’t uncommon either—but the idea of him using her like that made my blood boil. She wasn’t the type of girl that could be bought—but he just kept pushing anyway. Now I knew why he had gotten her fired, he was trying to tie her hands. I was so fuckin’ sick of this guy I could’ve jumped up and killed him right there. Instead, I finished my drink and made my way back to my apartment, I had plans to make.

For the next few weeks I was barely sleeping. I followed Gabriella, Genovese, and the occasional wise guy that fell under his payroll. I watched as Gabriella got fired again—but the girl’s spirit didn’t break. She just hustled off to another store and started putting in applications. The girl was tough, beautiful, ambitious—and a little weird. She couldn’t be much younger than me, Alec didn’t hire girls under 21—something I always admired about him. So that meant she was at least 21, maybe 22. Yet I’d never seen her use a cellphone, never seen her with other girls and in all the time I’d been following her she never did anything “extra”. She didn’t shop for clothes or shoes, she didn’t go out—she just lived. She got the same order from a small Dunkin Donuts by her apartment every day; a blueberry muffin and a chai latte. Aside from that the only thing I had seen her spend a little extra on was groceries, she was very particular about the foods she purchased—another thing I had admired. It paid off, let me tell you. She left this chicken cacciatore in the fridge one night that was out of this world—I couldn’t just leave it there. That was probably a little sloppy on my part but what can I say?

With each day that passed I felt more protective of her. I couldn’t ignore the craving I had to run my fingers over her skin, to hear her voice with clarity, to have her next to me. I couldn’t let Genovese keep fuckin’ with her like this—I had to make a move.

It seemed crazy at first, the plan I was making—but sometimes crazy is what you needed. I scoured the paper until I found a warehouse that sat outside the city lines in a barren area. With money being plentiful it was easy for me to get things done quickly. I changed all of the locks, installed cameras and hired a private contractor to remodel the basement. Within a week I had turned the basement of the warehouse into a dream loft:  big open kitchen with stainless steel everything, a gorgeous glass shower for the bathroom, two bedrooms that were more than spacious enough and everything was furnished in rich colors and plush furniture. I was ready to make my move—I just hoped she wouldn’t be too scared.

I waited outside her job, picking at the leather of the steering wheel. I had picked up a gray contractor’s van off craigslist. The back had no windows, and the van was surprisingly quiet for how old it was. When she walked out I could see she was pissed, I could only assume she had gotten fired again. Poor girl didn’t deserve this, and I was probably going to make it worse—but in the end I was hoping it would all work out, maybe she’d even stick around.

I followed her, the van silently creeping down the street behind her as she headed towards her apartment. When I knew she had a stretch of walking straight I parked and slipped out of the driver’s seat, moving quickly to her. My hand slipped around her mouth and I picked her up with ease, barely resisting the urge to press her against me. She fought hard, her legs swinging around as she tried to bite into my hand, only making me laugh. She was a fighter through and through. I tossed her into the back of the van and slipped in behind her, shutting the door.

“Don’t be scared, Gabriella. I don’t have any intention of hurting you. My name is Michael, and I’ll be your kidnapper tonight.” I chuckled and slipped into the driver’s seat and took off, racing towards the warehouse.