Dancing with the Mob: A Dark Mafia Romance Two-Book Collection

by Suzanne Hart

  Asshole.

  Mia was looking anxious, her pleading eyes met mine frequently, but I was tuning myself into battle mode. I wasn’t as romantic as our afternoon dalliance had allowed, but this was the sharp end of the stick now. I knew she understood, but felt she wanted some sort of physical reassurance, which I couldn’t give her at the time.

  We were at a dizzying height, circling the huge city of Miami. Another tropical cell was building off the coast, but it wouldn’t hit land for a few more hours yet. We had time, or it felt like we did. And after the fourth or fifth pass of the city as we circled, it felt like we’d been in the air all night.

  My cell pulsed. It was Rich. He’d set up the first meeting. As anticipated, it was a race for him to get to the next payphone for further instructions.

  Stay strong, Rich, we need you now.

  Forty

  Mia

  I kept having to remind myself that we were on a mission, that it was serious. I knew that, my mind knew that. My body though, god, it just wanted to melt into Jack every time I looked at him. How could he just sit there like that?

  When this is over, Jack, both you and I are going to be very sore for a very long time. Mia Leone is taking a holiday... and lots of you with it!

  The helicopter ride that started out as fun, turned into boring very quickly, with very little actually happening as our plan unfolded. I busied myself mentally, by making out travel arrangements, choosing Jack’s luggage, his swimming trunks. Everything I… he would need for his holiday with me. Those trunks though. Mmm hmm! I could trace the outline of him in those for the rest of the flight, no problems, even though the real thing was sitting right next to me. It was rude to stare, and I’d been staring an awful lot.

  I’d tried making small talk with Giles, but he’d changed. A lot. He was no longer my light and airy go-to guy for female to male friendship. In fact, he was acting like a military commander in chief.

  Jack was busy too, making his preparations, checking all his men were ready, trying to anticipate where this meeting might actually take place.

  “How’s my head holding up, how’s my hair?” I tried, brightening the mood with a little humor, but no one was biting.

  Tough crowd.

  It got a chuckle out of Rich, next time he called in. He was being crisscrossed all over the downtown area. It was making no sense. I think that was the general idea. If he was being followed, they wanted to be doubly sure. If he wasn’t they wanted him worn out and tired by the time he got to the meeting place, wherever that was to be.

  “You can tell Mia, she’s looking cool. Real cool,” joked Rich, panting as he prepped himself for the next sprint.

  He was being run ragged, but his training had prepared him for all of it. The duplicate DNA-rich version of my own tissue in the shape of a head was being kept chilled on liquid nitrogen in a medical case Rich was hauling. He’d received instructions that the head had to be in good condition, not just recognizable, but ready for analysis.

  I wanted to reach out to Jack, to put my hand on his thigh, but I decided against it. And after three more calls, with Rich running breathless, he finally had a meeting place. The Mia Bella building, penthouse suite, central downtown. Ten minutes. Rich was a good fifteen minutes away.

  Son of a bitch.

  Jack, Giles and I, we all looked at each other. Instead of being happy at having a final meeting place, we were totally thrown by the idea. It was too unusual. It reeked of a setup. I didn’t like it, and neither did the other two.

  Giles pushed air out through rounded cheeks, prepping himself before giving the orders. “I don’t like it either, but what choice do we have?” he said, voicing all our thoughts. Jack growled under his breath and I began to fret.

  That fucker’s in my house? How the fuck? I’ll fucking kill him myself!

  I felt my Leone, mob blood boiling over. I couldn’t contain it. “I want this fucking pig gutted, like the swine he is, do you hear me!” I heard myself yelling at Giles and Jack. “I want him fucking dead! Dead!” I saw lines of my own spit trace out of my mouth as I spat my hatred. I was beyond upset. I was livid with rage.

  Jack put his hands on me to calm me down. Giles was showing an amused look of shock. “We’ll get him, Mia, but I’m afraid we need this little piggy in one piece. If we want to break up his entire operation. We stick to the plan, regardless of the meeting place, agreed? Agreed!?”

  Giles had a way with words. I knew he was right. I was just upset at the violation of this prick. Jack was on his phone, the radio and a laptop, organizing every available man and gun he knew to converge on the Mia Bella building, at his signal. Until he said so, no one except Rich was to be within five blocks of Mia Bella.

  Giles was giving his own orders, much to the same effect. Nothing could happen until we gave the signal. I could tell that both men wanted to be down there, on the ground as it happened. But it was too risky to blow everything now. We had to be sure we got this son of a bitch, and kept him there once we knew exactly where he was.

  The chopper pitched and rolled as we turned to head back toward the downtown district. The spy plane was sending Giles a live feed of the penthouse floor already. Infrared was all they had at that moment, and once another satellite was available, we would be able to get some clearer imaging, but no sound.

  “The signal is still the same, people. The signal is still the same. Nobody move until my mark.” Giles was speaking the commands he’d rehearsed. He looked in his element.

  Then it hit me. “We can use the penthouse CCTV to monitor them inside,” I offered. Giles frowned. It’s been disabled. We already checked. He’s taken out the whole building’s CCTV.

  “No!” I cried impatiently. “I have my own feed, a separate system, from the panic room.”

  “It’s not showing on our system,” Giles said, almost bored.

  “Because I haven’t switched it on,” I said, pulling out my cell phone, patching myself into my own home security. “There!” I said. It should be...”

  Giles looked up from his laptop, beaming. “Clever girl! Great! Now we have eyes and ears from the inside!”

  I felt Jack’s hand covering mine, squeezing it tight. He was looking the other way, but it was a thrill to know he was thinking of me right at that very moment.

  “Okay people, listen up!” Giles barked. “We won’t have any contact from Little until he’s in the room with Claridge, we have visual confirmation it is him in the building.”

  Jack was looking at the screen, nodding his head to Giles after he’d heard a segment of Claridge’s speech pattern played back to him.

  “Nobody is to move until my mark, I won’t say it again. Radio silence until my signal. Out.” Giles’ eyes were ablaze with activity, his face remained calm and his brow smooth.

  Jack was boring holes into the images on his laptop screen. I could see a dozen strangers in my living room, mostly huge men, but one man was seated comfortably, smoking one of Papa’s cigars, drinking something from the heavy crystal tumblers I kept there.

  The wait was agonizing, we had visuals of Rich as he entered the building, then infrared as he made his way up. So far so good. He was admitted to my penthouse, and searched by three huge men who glanced inside the case, then looked away quickly. Rich was then stripped down to his trunks and hog-tied before being carried into the living room.

  I looked over, seeing Jack’s jaw tighten, his eyes narrowed and I saw the beginnings of a tear in his eye. Then he made a fist, breathed out through his mouth, and joined the rest of us in anticipation.

  Claridge’s form looked tiny compared to his giant bodyguards, almost like a child. He stood up and circled Rich who had been placed on the floor in front of him, and he bent down to say something to him.

  “What’s wrong? Why can’t we hear him?” Jack hissed to Giles.

  “We lost audio. Take it easy, Jack. If we have visual we can go ahead as planned.” I heard Jack breathe out again.

  Claridge h
ad moved over to the medical case, placing it up on the table in the center of the room. He ceremoniously opened it; his smile was unnerving as his face upturned slightly, right to the cameras.

  I could hear my heart in my ears as I waited.

  Go on, pick it up you motherfucker!

  The tension in the helicopter cabin increased by degrees as we all watched his hands reaching into the case. Then slowly, he lifted out the stunning likeness of my own head from it, as swirls of liquid nitrogen began soiling over the tabletop and across the floor.

  “Nothing’s happening,” I said. And it wasn’t, nothing happened. The son of a bitch was parading around my living room, holding up my own head.

  “There it goes!” cried Giles. “Striker! Striker! Striker!” he yelled into his headset as the chopper ditched so violently we all had to reach for something to hold as we plummeted toward the rooftop of the Mia Bella building.

  Claridge had held my head up, straight to the cameras, then his eyes grew wild in horror, as he saw the barbs, the wires, then felt them piercing his hands. They were the same sedatives he’d used to disable my own security team in the same building not too long ago. He held up for a second, then his eyes rolled back and he dropped like a stone. The barbs pumping him with a near-fatal dose of sedative, guaranteeing he couldn’t escape on his own.

  Jack grinned as he saw the screen. Claridge’s men were circling him, and some touched the barbs while trying to help him, but went down as well. The others were confused and without orders, useless. It was all the time we needed to get men into the building and ourselves to the rooftop. I heard the scream of jets overhead as a signal that our backup was arriving.

  Choppers jostled for a space to offload troops as we landed in the center of the helipad. Jack was first to exit, leaping out before we were anywhere near touching down. I knew he was racing to his friend, and we had Claridge. Now there was no escape for his men either, but Jack was racing to be the one who freed Rich. To be the one who would rescue him.

  I looked confused, and I felt compelled to leap out, to run along down to the penthouse with everyone else. Giles was content to watch the action from his screen, as men were swarming the building. And by now, the first team had entered the penthouse, taking out every conscious, standing male within three seconds.

  “You can try and get in there if you want, darling!” Giles said, in his old voice. “But too much testosterone if you ask me. Plus, you have your heels on, sweetie. You wouldn’t want to sprain your ankle.” He was right.

  Why do I always pick something with heels? Can’t help good taste, I guess.

  “We have Claridge, and we’ll have his secrets soon enough. Without his say so, his own passcodes, his money… the government’s money now, he won’t be going anywhere, anytime soon.”

  I was shaking my head slightly in disbelief. “Giles, who exactly do you work for?” I was serious, I had to know. Of all the secrets we had to have lately, this one had pissed me off the most.

  Giles looked around him, as if checking that nobody would hear him, then he whispered the word IRS and shrugged. He was smiling a little, but somehow, I knew he was telling the truth.

  “Don’t worry, darling, we’ll overlook your entire family’s earnings and business structure, well, for the next fiscal year, anyhow. It was enough to bag this fat goose!” His eyes were shining again as he continued to watch the action play out on the screen. Like a crazy movie.

  I sighed loudly as I saw Jack burst into the room, rushing to the aid of his oldest and dearest friend, Rich. He looked up at the camera, knowing I’d be watching him. I felt a warm tear traveling down my flushed cheek as I saw him through blurring eyes, winking at me and mouthing the words to me... I love you, Mia.

  And from that moment on, I knew everything would be back to perfect, or as close to it as we could make it, being part of a mob family and all. What a crazy ride.

  I love you too, Jack Slade. All the way to the moon and back.

  Mikey & Natalia

  An Enemies to Lovers Mafia Romance

  Mikey & Natalia

  Falling in love with the enemy wasn’t in my plans.

  It all started as a game.

  Now he’s my newfound addiction.

  It’s like nothing I had ever experienced before.

  But what about our families? In a never-ending war since I can remember.

  Sworn mob enemies and not allowed to be seen together, let alone be together.

  But our want for one another will be the least of our worries.

  There is a puzzle of lies and deception that will change us all.

  Every one of us, in the labyrinth of this strange, untouchable world.

  Can we ever really be together, or is fate destined to destroy us all?

  One

  Mikey

  They say everybody with blue eyes is related. It’s a genetic trait that has a single origin, so, technically, everybody with blue eyes is a relative of that one first upright that had baby blues. Being Italian with blue eyes? Not so unusual, but kind of rare. The only other person I know with blue eyes is my sister. She’s also my twin. I can’t fuck chicks who have blue eyes. It’s like bad luck or something. It’s like looking at myself.

  He has blue eyes too. The guy I couldn’t shoot. My hand shook so bad the gun flopped around like a fucking eel. I heard my dad, cursing under his breath, and then he tried to be more useful.

  “Mikey, it’s just like I showed you, like with the deer; remember? Don’t look at his eyes, just squeeze the trigger and keep your shoulder down.”

  We were hunting and pop had given me a rifle much bigger than I was. The other men, dad’s guards, had tousled my hair and doted over me, saying what a great marksman I would make someday. They, like my father, had every confidence that Leone blood would win out, it was just a matter of growing into it.

  I could see the steam of its breath, like clouds reflected in the black pools of her eyes. The deer, it had only just sensed us, catching our scent as the breeze shifted slightly. I was frozen to the spot, in awe of such a beautiful creature. My urge was to pat or hold, to be held by this magnificent creature, so wise; so beautiful.

  “Squeeze, Mikey. Like I showed you. Quick! Do it, boy!”

  I felt my heart quaver, like my limp arms, too weak to hold up the freezing weight anymore. I felt the deer look at me, look into me; she knew what was coming and she had the spirit to cope with it. I didn’t.

  Jumping at the sound, I saw her head arc back for a split second, a strained cry of shock puffed out in one last rush of air from her pink foaming muzzle. She fell instantly, a single round having pierced her beautiful heart, a heart no man would be worthy to carry in his own chest.

  I felt my own breaking in two as I watched that splendid creature die. The only warmth I felt was the jagged lines of hot tears as they stained my face as I stood there, shaking my head, wanting to run; to be free of all the death and pain of this world. I was six years old.

  My father lowered his own rifle, exhaling with frustration, with embarrassment. “Like that. Mikey! Like that! Never hesitate to squeeze that trigger. One day a life, a real life, maybe your own will depend on it!”

  He roughly turned me to face him with both hands digging into my shoulders. I wanted to cry out in pain, but I suddenly felt nothing anymore. My father didn’t want the men to notice me crying, he was saving face for himself; for the Leone name.

  His whole hand gripped my face, pushing it into a contorted shape. “Don’t you shed a fucking tear for that animal, boy. Never shed a tear for anybody! You are a Leone and a Leone is a lion, not a sniveling little girl, now smarten up! We’ll find you another deer to shoot.” We trudged the frozen ground for another hour before heading home, but it was only to dispel his own disappointment.

  He pushed me away with his hand that day, but I felt more than shock, pain or embarrassment, I felt the snapping of a line. A connection being broken that would never repair. Whatever a Leone was, I was
n’t it. If it involved shooting magical creatures who had secrets to share, then you could count me out. I was done.

  Years later, it was history repeated. Mama had died and I hadn’t shed a tear at the news, or at her funeral. I never showed any emotion when my father was around, or anyone for that matter, not even Mia.

  When I was older, I was taken out with Papa and his right-hand man to learn the ropes, so I could take over from him someday. A guy, a shop owner or something like that, had borrowed a lot of money and was caught trying to skip town with a whole bunch of Leone cash, as well as his own.

  I’d seen guys being roughed up a little; hit with the butt of a pistol even, but this guy, boy, Dad really went to town on him. I was terrified. Even Slade, the chief guard for my dad stepped in, holding him back. I thought he was doing it to be nice, to save the guy… but he was leaving some air in that poor man so I could be the one to finish him off.

  My father was panting, palms resting on his hams as he bent forward, straining to catch his breath. He looked up at me from his blackened brow, dark with rage and the burden of exertion, trying to beat revenge into an already-dead man. He held one palm out toward Slade, his fingers twitching in silent command, and then Slade produced the 9mm.

  My father swaggered toward me, his breath still heavy, thick with liquor back then, too. His eyes were black discs, shimmering obsidian pools. Like the deer’s, but only in color and size. The crazed, coked-up look I would see so many times in my own reflection was warning me, even back then.

  “Do it, Mikey. Fulfill your duty to this family. Show me you can be a real man, take this one’s life as payment and wipe his debt.”

  I felt my fingers curl around the grip, cold and heavy, like the death it metered out for so many men. I lifted the barrel, pointing it at the man, who was crying by now. I could smell the shit and see the piss he’d lost all down the front of his pants. It was supposed to make me despise him, his weakness. If anything, I felt nothing but pity for the man. He was, after all, just a man. Just like the rest of us.