Impossible Odds: A Mafia Romance (The Five Families Book 4)

by Jill Ramsower

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Books by Jill Ramsower

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Epilogue

  A Note from Jill

  About the Author

  Forever Lies Sample Chapter

  IMPOSSIBLE ODDS

  _____________

  Jill Ramsower

  BOOKS BY JILL RAMSOWER

  THE FIVE FAMILIES

  Forever Lies

  Never Truth

  Blood Always

  Impossible Odds

  STANDALONES

  Where Loyalties Lie

  THE FAE GAMES

  Shadow Play

  Twilight Siege

  Shades of Betrayal

  Born of Nothing

  Midnight’s End

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

  Copyright © 2020 Jill Ramsower

  All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  Print Edition ISBN: 978-1-7344172-4-1

  Cover Model: Craig Le Roux

  Photographer: Byron L. Keulemans

  Edited by Editing4Indies

  Chapter 1

  Giada

  A smoldering remnant of cigarette smoke lingered in the air. That the place didn’t smell like the bottom of an ashtray in a dive bar was remarkable. Even with the multitude of smoky clouds wafting up over the slot machines and gaming tables, the air was relatively breathable. I could only imagine how dense the air must have been before the invention of air purification equipment.

  Between the smoke, sensory overload, and mobs of raucous tourists pledging to create memories worthy of the Vegas namesake, the place should have been repulsive. Yet I loved every damn thing about it. The bright colors and flashing lights. The excess and indulgence. Luxury and opulence. The intense emotions that saturated the air and electrified my skin, making my heart skip and flutter in my chest. It was all magnified to a point of bursting by the throngs of people who flocked to this den of debauchery from all over the world. Rich people, poor people, people of every ethnicity and culture all crammed together and given license to act out their wildest fantasies. To drop social constructs and expectations and let their freak flags fly.

  It was magnificent.

  The only complaint I ever had about my time in Vegas was finding my way around the damn casinos. I had no doubt they were specifically designed to disorient and trap their hapless victims within. I hated having to find my way back to the table where I’d left my cousin and sisters. It was always a harrowing journey. If the cleaning staff weren’t so diligent, I’d have left a bread crumb trail for myself.

  This time, I’d been wandering aimlessly for close to fifteen minutes through the Wheel of Fortune and Monopoly slot machines when I spotted my girls in the distance just past a bank of sparsely occupied gaming tables. I started in their direction but was sidetracked when my eyes were drawn to a man standing at one of the tables, seemingly uninvolved in whatever game was being played. From where he stood, I could see his angular profile as he stared with laser focus at the table where my girls huddled together. They were laughing and watching their own game, oblivious to the attention they had garnered.

  I smirked, knowing the Genovese women were an eye-catching group. I could hardly blame the guy. Everywhere we went, we turned heads. Between our good genes and the money to emphasize all our best features, we were striking even on a bad day. Dolled up for the Vegas nightlife? We were unstoppable.

  It might have sounded conceited, but it was the truth. I saw nothing wrong with owning my strengths, whether it be my outgoing personality, my effortless style, or my good looks. Society wouldn’t knock a girl for advertising her PhD in astrophysics, so why couldn’t I be proud of my thick auburn hair and eyes so green they’d been called hypnotic?

  I was confident in my body, so sue me.

  Chest out and chin lifted, I slowly advanced on the man ogling my sisters and cousin. Though I couldn’t see his entire face, I could tell he was also gifted in the looks department. That was putting it modestly. He was ridiculously gorgeous. The kind of gorgeous that made you forget your train of thought midsentence. Stole your breath and made you wonder if you were hallucinating. Men that beautiful were usually restricted to magazine covers and movie screens.

  His profile boasted a straight nose and a strong jaw covered in a smattering of hair the same sandy color as the long locks combed back behind his ears. Judging by his sun-kissed hair and golden skin, he spent plenty of time in the sun, but his tailored suit spoke of boardrooms and penthouses rather than surfboards and beaches. Curious. I wondered which stereotype more aptly suited him—the businessman or the beach bum. If the intensity of his stare was any testament to his countenance, carefree surfer was no longer an option.

  My sisters and cousin melted from existence as his magnetic aura lured me into his orbit. I eased up to the craps table next to where he leaned, propped gently on his elbows with an unlit cigar dangling from his fingers. He was a vision of power and privilege, packaged in expensive Italian silk, his posture dripping indifferent boredom.

  Following his line of sight, I stared at the girls for a moment, taking them in as an outsider might. “I hope you don’t have your sights set on the brunette in red. She got engaged just a few days ago.” I let the words drift toward him while keeping my gaze fixed ahead.

  He showed no signs of distress over being caught staring. He didn’t even take his eyes from their target. “The one in silver doesn’t look legal.” The faintest hint of an accent feathered his words, the cadence a caress against my bare skin.

  “That’s because she’s not.” Valentina wouldn’t be eighteen for another five months, but she had a fake ID and curves that got her into most bars without issue.

  The man rolled his cigar between his thumb and fingers next to his lighter and a stack of chips. “That might not bother some men.”

  “I suppose if you like the blushing virgin who has no idea what she’s doing.” Val wasn’t exactly the blushing type, but he didn’t know that. My words were meant more as a challenge to him rather than a reflection of my sister’s dating habits.

  His gaze finally slid my way, giving me my first view of his eyes, gray like polished steel and equally as sharp. His deep-set eyes had a slight uptick that gave him a regal intensity. The dichotomy of such harsh beauty was ca
ptivating. Unnerving.

  “Age isn’t always an accurate indicator of experience or maturity,” he replied. Those reflective eyes were penetrative and severe as if they’d peered into my soul and found me lacking.

  If he wanted to judge me, he’d have to get in line.

  I continued our parry, unaffected. “Nor is maturity a guarantee of a good time, but it improves your odds significantly. And isn’t that what everyone wants when they come to Vegas? To come out a winner?”

  “Undoubtedly, but everyone’s definition of winning is different. Some of us may have our sights set on simply walking away emptyhanded—no better or worse than we arrived.”

  “You strike me as the type of man who would have his sights set on far more than breaking even.”

  “Yet I’ve already gotten what I came for tonight. Anything more would only complicate things, and I hate complications.” He turned fully toward me, leaning on his elbow in a deceptively casual pose. The startling severity of his gaze pushed against me abrasively, a blatant challenge at odds with the air of indifference he attempted to broadcast in every other way. His emotionless features were smooth and unbothered, forming a mask of apathy that would have been believable if it hadn’t been for those silver, shiver-inducing eyes. They were raging storms, brilliant thunderclouds rife with lightning and electric wrath. A chink in his armor that gave away just how much more was brewing beneath the surface.

  He was captivating and breathtakingly beautiful, not to mention arrogant and detached.

  He was also out of luck because this girl didn’t beg for any man’s attention.

  I cocked my head and shrugged. “Too bad. Emptyhanded it is, then.” My red-stained lips drew back in a Cheshire grin as I eased away from the table and walked toward my girls without glancing back at the mysterious man.

  My hips swayed with each step, the penetrating weight of his stare making me feel naked as I crossed the casino floor. Other girls might have felt awkward or embarrassed, but I preened like a peacock flaring its feathers for maximum visibility. My strides remained unhurried and even as I basked in an adrenaline high just as potent as any drug could provide.

  It wasn’t his attention that energized me.

  The source of my intoxicating rush was far more concrete. I derived my excitement from the small silver lighter clasped in my right hand—the one I’d swiped from the table ledge and was now depositing into my black velvet clutch purse.

  How long would it take for the man to notice his lighter was gone? Would he suspect me as a thief or assume he’d left the trinket somewhere else earlier in the day? The threat of discovery and impending uncertainty made my veins course with liquid energy. The high was so addicting, I’d been hooked from the first time I’d stolen back when I was a teen.

  The handsome stranger was far from my first victim.

  The urge to pocket other people’s possessions didn’t hit me all that frequently, but when it did, the need was overwhelming. The items were usually inconsequential trinkets—nothing of any real value—but they were always personal to the owner. Something representative of who they were. Something they would notice was missing but wouldn’t be apt to call the police over.

  I’d always thought my twisted proclivities meant something inside me was broken. My saintly mother was the perfect Catholic, active in the church and a staunch enforcer of its ideals. My two younger sisters rarely stepped out of line. Camilla was fresh out of college and advancing in her career, and Valentina was a straight-A student with Ivy League schools clamoring to recruit her.

  I never made it past high school.

  What was the point? My family’s money meant I never had to work, so why waste my life behind a desk? I didn’t want an average, boring existence, but I also hadn’t figured out what that meant. I wasn’t bohemian enough to want to backpack across Europe. I didn’t have a particular desire to risk my life for short-term thrills such as bungee jumping or skydiving. So where did that leave me?

  I’ll tell you. It left me feeling like something was wrong with me until about five months ago when I learned my father was a high-ranking member of the mafia. The puzzle pieces of my life suddenly rearranged and made a coherent picture. I wasn’t a freak.

  Being a criminal—a deviant, even—was in my blood.

  Not surprisingly, I craved more than two-point-five kids and a membership to the Y. I was made for a different life than most normal people. I just wasn’t sure what exactly that meant yet. Fortunately, I had all the time in the world to figure it out, and in the meantime, I had my sticky fingers to entertain me.

  When I learned about my father’s real job, I’d considered coming clean and telling him about my dirty little habit but decided against it. Shame wasn’t the reason I kept my lips sealed. Who were my parents to judge my crimes when their own actions were undoubtedly far more nefarious than my own? At least, that was true for my father. My mother’s greatest sin was likely limited to turning a blind eye to whatever my father was involved in. They had no grounds to be upset, but I was unwilling to tell anyone because the key component of my chosen vice was secrecy. Where was the thrill if others knew what I was doing? Every theft was a treasured memory, and I lorded over each with great relish.

  Nobody was perfect.

  Maybe that was why I felt at home in Vegas.

  Sin City, home of the morally corrupt and misguided.

  I visited every chance I could get, so when my best friend and cousin, Alessia, announced that she’d gotten engaged on her birthday, I decided a celebratory girls’ trip was in order. Plus, it was Halloween, and I’d never done Halloween in Vegas.

  It had more than lived up to my expectations.

  Alessia hadn’t been easy to convince since our last girls’ trip had only been a couple of months prior, but she always gave in to me in the end. It was why we worked so well together. My younger sisters, Camilla and Valentina, were far easier to convince. In a matter of days, we had our bags packed and were off for a weekend of female bonding.

  The first girls’ trip we’d taken had included the four of us plus Alessia’s two sisters, Maria and Sofia. This go-round, Maria was pregnant and had deemed Vegas pointless if she couldn’t drink. I didn’t blame her. Vegas wasn’t the same without a steady flow of alcohol thinning your bloodstream. Sofia had just returned from her honeymoon and wasn’t up for another trip. Despite our smaller numbers, we’d had an amazing weekend and were winding down on our final night, watching high rollers at the craps tables and playing the occasional hand of blackjack.

  “Hey, ladies! Have any luck while I was gone?” I rejoined my girls with a genuine, beaming smile.

  “We were until Camilla had Alessia split her hand, then double down, and she lost most of her stash,” Val informed me.

  “You make it sound like it was my fault she lost the money,” Cam shot back at her.

  “I told you to never split sixes.”

  “You couldn’t have known for sure what would happen. That’s why it’s called gambling. There’s always a chance we could have won.”

  “If you ever want to beat the house, you have to stack the odds in your favor. If you’re going to play, play to win.” Val was showing signs of becoming a real badass woman. We didn’t hang out often because of our six-year age difference, but I would have to remedy that.

  “How do you know all that?” Alessia asked.

  Val’s lips curved into a smug grin. “I studied the game before we came. Last time, I had no clue what I was doing, and I wasn’t going to make that mistake again.” Something told me Val might make a formidable enemy, and I was suddenly glad we were family.

  Cam raised a brow. “Some of us aren’t always looking for a safe bet. Some of us like to take a chance.”

  “So says the banking expert who dots every I and crosses every T,” I muttered. I couldn’t imagine she’d ever taken a chance on anything risky in her entire life, aside from a brief period during high school when she threw around a healthy dose of atti
tude. Since then, she’d been a model daughter and somewhat hard for me to relate to.

  Alessia was also a perfectionist, but that didn’t seem so off-putting from someone who wasn’t my sister. I didn’t have to hear my mother rub in my face how perfect Alessia was at every opportunity.

  “All right, ladies. Let’s not end our trip fussing at each other. A couple of hundred dollars isn’t going to break the bank. Our dinner reservation is in twenty minutes, so let’s head to the restaurant. It’ll probably take that long to find the damn place from here.” Al was the peacemaker, regardless of what group she was among. That quality, more than anything, was why we’d been so close for so long. She indulged my every whim, and I was happy to let her. Our dynamic was also good for her. If it weren’t for me and my initiative, she’d never have had any fun at all.

  With my loving guidance and reassurance, she was now engaged to a capo in the mafia—a turn of events I never would have imagined possible for my naïve, idealistic cousin. I was thrilled she’d found such happiness and had been brave enough to embrace our family’s way of life. There was a time I thought she might cut and run from it all, but she didn’t. She stuck around and was more entrenched in the life than ever.

  It was amazing the difference six months had made. All three of my cousins were engaged or married. I could only hope the situation wasn’t infectious as I had no desire to commit myself to a man at this stage in my life. I hungered for far more temporary, thrilling encounters.

  Mr. Stormy Eyes would have been fun, but that ship sailed when I stole his lighter. Now, I was only interested in putting distance between us. We’d head back to New York in the morning, and I would be in the clear, never to see the man again.

  Chapter 2

  Primo

  When I was a child, only about six years old, my mother drove us from our home in Hermosillo all the way to Mexico City on a pilgrimage to see the blessed Lady of Guadalupe, otherwise known as the Virgin Mary. My mother had talked about the iconic Mexican statue for years but was only able to make the trip when her employer, a wealthy Mexican businessman, gave her two weeks off while he took his family on an extended vacation abroad.