by Reilly, Cora
The black-haired guy lunged at my attacker, ramming his knee into his stomach. The Russian fell forward, and I raised my knife, which buried itself in his abdomen. Blood trickled down my fingers, and I released the handle like it burned me as the Russian toppled to his side, dead.
I stared at my knife sticking out of his belly. The black-haired guy pulled it out, cleaned the blade on the dead man’s shorts, then handed it to me. “First kill?”
I nodded, my fingers shaking as I took it from him.
“There will be more.”
The two other Russians were dead as well. Their necks had been broken. He held out his hand, which I grabbed as he pulled me to my feet. “We should leave. More Russian fuckers will be here soon. Come on.”
He led me toward a beat-up truck. “Noticed you slinking around the parking lot the last two nights when I was here to fight.”
“Why did you help me?”
There was that twisted smile again. “Because I like to fight ... and kill. Because I hate the fucking Bratva. Because my family wants me dead too. But most importantly, because I need loyal soldiers who will help me take back what’s mine.”
“Who are you?”
“Remo Falcone. And I will be Capo of the Camorra soon.” He opened the door to his truck and was halfway in when he added, “You can help me or you can wait for the Bratva to get you.”
I got in. Not because of the Bratva.
Because Remo had shown me a new purpose, a new destiny.
A new family.
CHAPTER 2
LEONA
The window of the Greyhound bus felt sticky hot, or maybe it was my face. The infant in the row behind me had stopped wailing ten minutes ago—finally, after almost two hours. I peeled my cheek from the glass, feeling sluggish and tired. Squeezed into the stuffy seat for hours, I couldn’t wait to get out. Las Vegas’ posh suburbs rolled past me, their immaculate landscaping sufficiently watered by sprinklers. Surrounded by desert, that must be the ultimate showcase of having money. Elaborate Christmas decorations adorned the porches and the fronts of freshly painted houses.
Despite how beautiful, that wouldn’t be my stop.
The bus trudged on, the floor vibrating under my bare feet, until finally it arrived in that part of town where no tourist ever dared set foot in. The all-you-can-eat buffets cost only $9.99 around here, not $59; I could afford neither. Not that I minded. I’d grown up in areas like these. In Phoenix, Houston, Dallas, Austin, and more other places than I cared to count. I slipped into my flip-flops, swung my backpack over my shoulder, getting ready to depart the bus.
Out of habit, I reached into my pocket for a cell phone that was no longer there. Mother had sold it for her last dose of crystal meth. The twenty dollars she got for it had been out of pity, no doubt.
I waited until most of the other people had left before I stepped off the bus, releasing a long breath as I stood under the sun. The air was drier than in Austin, and it was a few degrees colder, but still not wintery cold. Somehow, I already felt freer being away from my mother. This was her last shot at therapy. She needed to make it a success. I was stupid for hoping she could.
“Leona?” came a deep voice from somewhere to the right.
I turned, surprised. My father stood a few feet from me, with about thirty more pounds on his hips and less hair on his head. I hadn’t expected him to pick me up. He’d promised to do it, but I knew what promises from him and my mother were worth. Less than the dirt under my shoes. Perhaps he’d really changed like he’d claimed.
He quickly stubbed out his cigarette under his worn loafers. The short-sleeved shirt stretched over his paunch. There was an disheveled air about him that had me worried.
I smiled. “The one and only.”
I wasn’t surprised he’d had to ask. The last time I’d seen him had been on my fourteenth birthday, more than five years ago. I hadn’t exactly missed him. I’d missed the idea of having a father—one he could never be. Still, it was nice to see him again. Maybe we could start anew.
He came over and pulled me into an awkward hug. I wrapped my arms around him despite the lingering stench of sweat and smoke. It had been a while since someone had hugged me. Standing back, he scanned me from head to toe. “You’ve grown.” His eyes paused on my smile. “And your pimples are gone.”
Have been for three years. “Thank god,” I said instead.
My father pushed his hands into his pockets, as if he was suddenly unsure of what to do with me. “I was surprised when you called.”
I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, unsure where he was going with this. “You never did,” I said before soon regretting it. I hadn’t come to Vegas to dish out guilt. Dad had never been a good father, but he’d tried occasionally ... even if he always failed. Mom and him ... They were both fucked up in their own ways. Addiction had always been the thing that got in the way of caring for me the way they should have.
He gave me an appraising look. “Are you sure you want to stay with me?”
My smile wavered. Was that what his hesitation was all about? He didn’t want me around? I really wished he mentioned that before I’d paid for a bus ticket that took me through half the states. He’d said he beat his addiction, that he had a decent job and a normal life. I wanted to believe him.
“It’s not that I’m not happy to have you with me. I missed you,” he said quickly. Too quickly. Lies.
“Then what?” I asked, trying but failing to hide my hurt.
“It’s not a good place for a nice girl like you, Leona.”
I laughed. “I’ve never exactly lived in the nice parts of town,” I told him. “I can handle myself.”
“No. It’s different here. Believe me.”
“Don’t worry. I’m good at staying out of trouble.” I’d had years of practice. With a meth-addicted mother who sold anything, even her body, for her next fix, you had to learn to duck your head and mind your own business.
“Sometimes trouble finds you. It happens around here more often than you’d believe.” The way he said it, I worried that trouble was a constant guest in his life.
I sighed. “Honestly, Dad, I’ve lived with a mother who spent most of her days in a drug haze. You never worried enough to take me away from her. Now that I’m grown up, you’re worried I can’t handle living in the City of Sin?”
He looked at me as if he was going to say more but then finally took my backpack from me before I could tighten my hold on the strap. “You’re right.”
“And I’m only going to stay here until I’ve earned enough money for college. There are enough places around here where I can make decent money with tips.”
He looked relieved that I wanted to work. Had he thought I was going to live off him?
“There are more than enough places, but few that are fit for a girl like you.”
I shook my head, smiling. “Don’t worry. I can handle drunkards.”
“I’m not worried about them,” he said nervously.
FABIANO
“Are you really thinking about working with the Famiglia?” I managed to pant as I dodged a kick aimed at my head. “I told you how they fucked with the Outfit.”
I thrust my bandaged fist into Remo’s side then tried a kick at his legs, but he landed a fist into my stomach instead. I jumped back, out of Remo’s reach, and feigned an attack to the left and instead kicked with my right leg. Remo’s arm shot up, protecting his head, taking the full force of my kick. He didn’t fall. “I don’t want to work with them. Not with Luca fucking Vitiello nor with Dante fucking Cavallaro. We don’t need them.”
“Then why send me to New York?” I asked.
Remo got two quick blows to my left side. I sucked in a breath and rammed my elbow down on his shoulder. He hissed and darted away, but I got him. His arm was hanging low. I’d dislocated his shoulder. My favorite move.
“Open refusal?” he asked half in jest, giving no indication that he was in agony.
“You wish.”<
br />
Remo liked to break things. There wasn’t anything he liked better. Sometimes I thought he wanted me to revolt so he could try breaking me because I’d be his biggest challenge. I had no intention of giving him the chance. Not that he’d succeed.
He glared and lunged at me. I barely dodged his first two kicks; the third hit my chest. I was thrown into the boxing ring and almost lost my balance but caught myself by gripping the rope. I quickly straightened and raised my fists.
“Oh fuck this shit,” Remo snarled. He grabbed his arm and tried to reposition his shoulder. “I can’t fight with this fucking useless limb.”
I lowered my hands. “So you give up?”
“No,” he said. “Tie.”
“Tie,” I agreed. There had never been anything but ties in our fights, except for the very first year when I’d been a scrawny kid without a clue how to fight. We were both strong fighters, used to pain and indifferent about whether we lived or died. If we ever fought it out till the end, we’d both end up in body bags. No doubt about it.
I snatched a towel from the floor and wiped the blood and sweat from my chest and arms.
With a grunt, Remo finally managed to set his arm. It would have been quicker and less painful if I’d help, but he’d never let me. Pain meant nothing to him. Nor to me.
I threw a clean towel at him. He caught it with his injured arm just to prove a point. Attempting to dry his hair, he only managed to spread the blood from a cut on his head all over his black hair. He dropped the towel unceremoniously. The scar running from his left temple down to his left cheek was an angry red from fighting.
“So why?” I asked, removing the red-tinged bandages around my fingers and wrist.
“I want to see how things are going over there. I’m curious. That’s all. And I like to know my enemies. You will be able to gather more information than any of us just by watching them interact. Most of all, I want to send them a clear message.” His dark eyes became hard. “You aren’t thinking about playing happy family with your sisters and becoming one of Vitiello’s lapdogs, are you?”
I cocked one eyebrow. More than five years and he really had to ask? I swung myself over the boxing ring and light on my feet, I landed on the floor on the other side with close to no sound. “I belong to the Camorra. When they all abandoned me, you took me in. You made me who I am today, Remo. You should know better than to accuse me of being a traitor. I will put my life down for you. And if I must, I will take the Outfit and the Famiglia to Hell with me.”
“One day you will get your chance,” he said.
To lay down my life for him or to take down the other families?
“I have another task for you.”
I nodded, expecting it. He held my eyes. “You are the only one who can get close to Aria. She is Vitiello’s weakness.”
I kept my expression impassive.
“Bring her to me, Fabiano.”
“Dead or alive?”
He smiled. “Alive. If you kill her, Vitiello will go on a rampage, but if we have his wife, he’ll be our puppet.”
I didn’t have to ask why he had an interest in tearing down the Famiglia. We didn’t need their territory, and it wasn’t worth much as long as Dante owned everything in the middle. We were making enough money in the west as it was. Remo was out for revenge. Luca had made a mistake when he’d taken in the former Enforcer of the Camorra, and he’d made an even bigger mistake when he’d sent the man back to kill many high-ranking Camorrista while Las Vegas was without a strong Capo to lead the city. Before Remo, that is.
“Consider it done.”
Remo inclined his head. “Your father was a fucking fool for overlooking your worth. But that’s how fathers are. Mine would have never allowed me to become Capo. It’s a pity I didn’t get to kill him myself.”
Remo envied me for that. I could still kill my father, and one day I would.
It had been years since I’d last treaded New York ground. I’d never liked the city much. It represented nothing but loss to me.
The bouncer in front of the Sphere gave me the once-over as I approached. I detected another guard on the roof. The street was deserted except for us. That wasn’t going to change until much later when the first partygoers would try to get into the popular club.
I stopped in front of the bouncer. He rested his hand on the gun at his hip. He wouldn’t be quick enough. “Fabiano Scuderi,” I said simply. Of course he knew. They all knew. Without a word, he let me walk into the waiting room. Two men barred my way.
“Weapons,” one of them ordered, pointing at a table.
“No,” I said.
The taller of the two, several inches shorter than me, brought his face close to mine. “What was that?”
“That was a no. If you’re too deaf or stupid to understand me, get someone who can. I’m losing my patience.”
The man’s face turned red. It would take three moves to severe his head from his body. “Tell the Capo he’s here and refuses to put down his weapons.”
If he thought he could intimidate me mentioning Luca, he was mistaken. The times when I’d feared and admired him had long since passed. He was dangerous, no doubt, but so was I.
Eventually, he returned and I was finally allowed to pass through the blue-lit lobby and dance floor then down to the basement. It was a good place if someone wanted to stop outsiders from hearing the screaming. That didn’t manage to unnerve me either. The Famiglia didn’t know the Camorra very well. They didn’t know me very well. We’d never been worth their attention until our power had grown too strong for them to ignore.
The moment I stepped into the office, I scanned my surroundings. Growl stood off to the left side. Traitor. Remo would love to have his head delivered to him in a plastic bag. Not because the man had killed his father, but because he’d betrayed the Camorra. That was a crime worthy of a painful death.
Luca and Matteo, were in the middle of the room, both tall and dark. My sister, Aria, with her blond hair was like a beacon of light.
I remembered her to be taller, but then again, I was a kid when I’d last seen her. The shock on her face was obvious. She still wore her emotions on the sleeve. Even her marriage to Luca hadn’t changed that. You’d think he’d have broken her spirit by now. Strange that she was the same as I remembered though I had become someone new.
She rushed toward me. Luca reached for her, but she was too quick. He and his men drew their weapons the moment Aria collided with me. My hand came up to her neck momentarily. She hugged me, her hands splayed out on my back where I had my knives. She was too trusting. I could have killed her in a heartbeat. Breaking her neck would have taken little effort. I’d killed like that before, in fights to the death. Luca’s bullet would have been too late. She looked up at me hopefully. Then, slowly, realization and fear set in. Yes, Aria. I’m not a little boy anymore.
I looked back at the men. “No need for drawn weapons,” I said to Luca. His cautious gaze flitted between my fingers positioned perfectly on her neck and my eyes. He recognized the danger his little wife was in, even if she didn’t. “I haven’t traveled all the way to hurt my sister.”
It was the truth. I had no intention of hurting her, even though I could have. What Remo had in mind for her, I couldn’t say. I slipped a note into the pocket of her jeans.
Luca lunged toward us and pulled her away from me, warning clear in his eyes.
“My God,” Aria whispered, tears filling her eyes. “What happened to you?”
Did she really have to ask? Had she been so busy saving my sisters that she hadn’t considered what that would mean for me?
“You, Gianna, and Liliana happened.”
Confusion filled her face. She really didn’t get it. Cold fury shot through me, but I pushed it down. Every horror of my past had made me into who I was today.
“I don’t understand.”
“After Liliana ran off as well, Father decided that something must be wrong with all of us. That perhaps Mother�
��s blood running through our veins was the problem. He thought I was another mistake in the making. He tried to beat it out of me. Maybe he thought if I bled often enough, I’d be rid of any trace of that weakness. The moment his whore of a second wife gave birth to a boy, he decided I was no longer of use. He ordered one of his men to kill me. The man took pity on me and drove me to some shithole in Kansas City so the Bratva could kill me instead. I had twenty dollars and a knife.” I paused. “And I put that knife to good use.”
I could see the words sink in. She shook her head. “We didn’t want to hurt you. We just wanted to save Liliana from a horrible marriage. We didn’t think you’d need saving. You were a boy. You were on your way to becoming a soldier for the Outfit. We would have saved you if you’d asked.”
“I saved myself,” I said simply.
“You could still ... leave Las Vegas,” Aria said carefully. Luca sent her a glare.
I laughed darkly. “Are you suggesting I’ll leave the Camorra and join the Famiglia?”
Wincing, she seemed taken aback by the harshness of my tone. “It’s an option.”
I turned my gaze toward Luca. “Is she Capo or you? I came here to talk to the man leading the show, but now I think it might be a woman after all.”
Luca didn’t seem fazed by my words, at least not openly. “She is your sister. She does the talking because I allowed her to do so. Don’t worry, Fabi, if I had anything to say to you, I’d say it.”
Fabi. The nickname didn’t provoke me the way it was supposed to. I’d grown out of it. Nobody knew me by that name in Vegas, and even if they did, they wouldn’t dare use it.
“We are not your enemy, Fabi,” Aria said. And I knew she meant it. She was the Capo’s vice, and yet she knew nothing. Her husband saw me as I saw him: an opponent to watch. A predator intruding on his territory.