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

by Suzanne Hart

  His kidneys were damaged, but he was responding well to treatment. The red light for the transplant option had been turned to a satisfactory green color, meaning he wouldn’t need a new kidney and he was going to be fine. A hairline fracture to the wrist was the worst of his injuries from the auto accident, thank you, God.

  Aunt Pippa had been so badly shaken by the whole thing. She would be able to leave the hospital at any time, being given the all clear by Dr. Harmer.

  While Felix was entertaining the late night stragglers, who were avoiding being herded back into bed, it was then that Pippa announced she wanted to get away for a while, and that she needed a holiday of her own.

  I wanted to be shocked or even upset; her tone was odd; she hadn’t been the same since the accident. But I naturally agreed and couldn’t thank her enough for all she had done for Felix, for both of us. She was my rock and I suddenly felt that maybe I hadn’t been so vocal in letting her know as much.

  Having had no children of her own, Pippa was unusually maternal toward Felix, but never played a role where she had undermined my wishes or authority. I panicked internally, worrying about what would happen if something did happen to her, if she couldn’t look after Felix anymore.

  My mind turned again, to the daydream fantasy of the family ideal I had created. Mikey as dad, me as mom and Aunt Pippa as, well, Aunt Pippa. I sighed just thinking about it. Pippa smiled, finally. She was reading my thoughts as usual.

  “You and your friend could probably use a few days to unwind as well. Felix will be here for a few more days yet, they say.”

  She was still smiling when I took her hand and kissed it, holding it to my mouth until I could taste the salt of my own tears. She was the strongest woman I knew. I hoped she was going to be alright. I prayed she would be.

  “Enough crying already! I should be the one crying, I just filled that damned car’s tank all the way up, with the price of gas these days! Jesus!”

  She always knew how to cheer me up by playing the miser spinster, complaining about the price of gas, or milk or eggs. She knew full well we had enough money to buy a hundred cars, a thousand if we had to.

  I just need to get to the bank and make sure I can still go ahead with being Ms. Diamond from now on.

  What had started as a bit of a joke name when Felix had come along and his daddy had split, had kind of stuck. I thought it sounded ridiculous sometimes, saying it out loud. L.A. was different though, it might’ve sounded strange in Miami, but in L.A. it was a pretty ordinary-sounding name.

  With my blessing, and credit card, Pippa began to plan her holiday aloud. It was the happiest I’d ever seen her. She deserved every minute of it. As much as I wanted Felix to be home, safe and sound again, the thought of a day or three alone with nothing but Mikey to wear was dangerously exhilarating. While Pippa rolled off her plans for her trip, I was left amazed at what delights lay ahead for Mikey and me in the bedroom.

  After a final lights out call, we managed to get some sleep, and Felix and I were woken periodically whenever the nurses checked on him. There was a change of police guard at around two am too. I was fully awake by then, unable to sleep. Felix was quiet as a lamb while Pippa buzz-sawed her way through the land of nod.

  I wanted to call Mikey, but figured it was too late. I trusted him enough to wait until morning, but grappled with the obsessive urge to speak with him again. The later it got, the more my tired mind began to play tricks and tell me all sorts of stories about what could go wrong, why I shouldn’t trust him; why the only good Leone was a dead Leone.

  That was my father talking. The Bernardi in me. Things will be different, Felix, I promise. On my life, I promise you that.

  I had managed to doze off for a few hours, with the ward nurse checking on Felix who woke me just before dawn. I moved my hands, knocking the envelope which must have been placed between them as I had slept. I thanked the nurse, but told her she could’ve just left it by the bedside or given it to me when I woke up. Her strange, questioning look sent a jet stream of panic through me.

  Mikey, please, no!

  I was gripped with the sudden fear that Mikey had left, gone to ground and this was his goodbye note. As I turned it in my trembling hands, not wanting to even open it, I cursed myself for being so naïve, so stupid as to fall for another man. Wrestling with my emotions, I resigned myself to at least read what he had to say before I tore it to shreds and got on with my life.

  I instantly forgave Mikey, as soon as I saw the letterhead, realizing it wasn’t from him. The paper was thick, watermarked and scented too, with an incredibly good ambergris and musk perfume. I tried to place it, but it must’ve been custom made, plus my mind was racing. I instantly recognized the name in the scrolling initial of the letterhead. Dane Claridge.

  My Dear Natalia,

  I hope this finds you well and that your son, Felix, and Aunt Pippa are making a speedy recovery. I apologize for not being able to deliver this note myself, but my good friend who has been watching your room all night promised he would do so before being relieved by the morning officer. I had given him strict instructions you weren’t to be disturbed without my say so.

  Natalia, I will cut to the chase. I have enclosed an international transfer request, payable directly to you if presented at any major bank I recommend the largest in the state for such a transaction, the details are on the reverse of this letter. The transfer request is for you, I want to help you to free yourself and your son from the clutches of the Bernardi Empire.

  In return, for any sum of money you nominate, all I ask is that you supply me with the names and addresses of the major offshore trustees of all major Bernardi financial interests. I understand that it may take you some time to gather this information, so the funds you nominate will be held in Escrow once the request is made, payable upon my receipt of the required information.

  I urge you to consider the importance and the benefit of my proposition, and to consider the long term safety and wellbeing of your son.

  I look forward to the transfer request deposit; I’m very interested to see the figure required for you to be free of the hardships of what must be, pardon me for saying so, a life you deserve more from.

  I need to emphasize, that no figure, no sum of money is too great. My personal finances are more than able to accommodate any figure you should care to nominate.

  The only condition of my offer is that you discuss it with no one, and that the transfer request be lodged within seven working days. If either or both of these conditions aren’t met, along with the provision of the requested information, the offer will become invalid and I won’t be able to guarantee the comfort of your present position.

  I very much look forward to seeing you again, and I trust your ability to generate the required information quickly and efficiently.

  I’ll be in touch.

  Your friend,

  D.

  My first instinct was to rush to see which guard was at the door. My heart was thumping in my chest, but I had to keep calm and not let anyone else in the room know what was happening to me. I folded the letter, then casually glanced around to the door, spotting a cop who wasn’t there the night before.

  I slid out of the bed, straightening my hair and utilizing a robe the hospital had provided. I pretended to be a sleepy, early morning shuffler, making my way out to get some coffee. The cop at the door ignored me.

  “Oh, hi!” I said casually, getting his attention.

  He spun his head quickly, beady, grey, cold eyes flashed at me, rimmed with the red of no sleep and overwork. His face was deadpan.

  “I’m Felix’s mom, Felicia. Felicia Diamond.” I waited for a reaction that never came. He seemed content to let me do all the talking. “I just noticed you’re new, different from the other…”

  His low, deep voice cut me off. “You have the letter. Now just act normal and nothing bad happens. Okay?” He made a slight grimace of a smile before he went back to ignoring me, scanning the corridor fo
r something that was never going to happen.

  “My son…” I began.

  “My job is to watch over your son, ma’am. Do your bit and I’ll do mine.” He tapped his badge with a sign of indignant authority. I hadn’t imagined it, I wasn’t paranoid. I got the message.

  After a long session of nervous hugs and some more tears on my part, I called Mikey to pick us up, only to hear his voicemail. Two more tries and Pippa and I were in a cab back home.

  I was devastated to leave Felix at the hospital, but the letter and Claridge had made it clear who was calling the shots. I was frozen with fear, unable to tell Pippa anything. I knew I couldn’t even tell Mikey, wherever he was. For the first time in my life I wished my father was there. I needed the Bernardi family now.

  Twenty-Five

  Mikey

  “Let it ring! Don’t answer it.”

  I forced a sigh, then growled. Claridge was loving this, I could tell. Punching the steering wheel with both fists, the horn blasted. It sounded weak, almost wet. It was nothing compared to the rage building inside of me.

  He’d put the gun away, and I was delirious from lack of sleep and hour upon hour of his constant questioning, tripping me up with my own lies while feeding me a whole night’s worth of his own.

  My eyes burned. I could feel the red of the rims before I saw it. Looking into the rearview for the thousandth time, he sat there, motionless, smiling. He was in his element, a kid who had picked off the wings of all the flies and was admiring his collection. He hadn’t quite finished poking yet, though.

  I had missed the calls from Natalia. I wanted to snatch the phone up and answer it, to tell her to take Felix and run, to get out of L.A. To go back to her family even. Claridge was the most dangerous man I had ever met, and I knew that even if he was killed, there would be an infinite number of painful consequences he had set up as a just in case you do measure. It was like playing eye spy in the dark with a sociopath. The man had no scruples, with no clear agenda; from what I could gather at the time.

  “You look tired, Michael. Have some of it. It’s right there next to you. It will clear your head.” I glanced down at the generous bag of premium coke he had put on the armrest. I felt the cold sweat on my brow, then a line of it tracing its way past my nose on its way down my face. I reached for it, then recoiled.

  No! I won’t. I won’t give in to him.

  The smug chuckle from the back seat was humiliating. I was trapped. If I didn’t do everything he asked, Claridge assured me that he would see to it I never saw Natalia or Felix again.

  “…not as you would recognize them, anyway.”

  Fatigue was overcoming me, and the desperate urge to sleep. I hadn’t slept properly for days and it was taking its toll psychologically as well as physically.

  “Michael, I don’t understand why you’re so upset. I have made you the offer of a lifetime. Why hesitate? Why protect the enemy?” He sounded concerned, even sincere, for the first time in about six hours.

  “It’s Mikey!” I growled again, for the twentieth time that night. He knew calling me Michael irritated me, so he made sure he said it as often as possible, but never to the point of being predictable with it.

  “Why are you doing this to me?” I could feel myself breaking down. I wasn’t made of the type of stuff he was used to breaking. I was no fun for him, really. He was getting off on the threats, the prospect of my own anxiety about how I was feeling about what would happen to other people if I didn’t do what he was asking.

  Claridge had kept me driving most of the night, all night really. The tank was almost empty as the soft gray light of dawn poked through the haze of L.A., right as we wound our way down the freeway and back toward the city. He had given me his offer, millions, hundreds of millions of dollars to infiltrate the Bernardi family, supplying him with some crucial information about the family’s finances.

  Trouble for me was --I was grappling with my own feelings for Natalia, who I had foolishly convinced myself Claridge had no idea I was in the process of falling madly in love with. As the night wore on though, it became clearer he knew far more than he was letting on and was playing everyone, each family and each family member against each other in his own sick and twisted way.

  I decided to try some reverse psychology. I decided to interrogate Claridge. We had slowed to a crawl, and it looked like traffic was backed up on the freeway early; probably a truck rolled over or a crash.

  “Tell me about my mother,” I stated matter of factly.

  Claridge’s laughter echoed off the SUV’s leather, as if we were in an amphitheater made of stone. I hadn’t heard him laugh aloud before. It was frightening. I could tell this was exactly what he’d been waiting for, and that his delight had moved up a gear as I moved the car down several, then to a standstill.

  Every lane in front was blocked. The lanes in the opposite direction were all clear. I instinctively wanted to swing around, head in the opposite direction, but the tut-tut from Claridge’s lips, who had read my thoughts, was enough to resign me to staying put. After a moment’s silence, I was going to ask him the same question again, but he had prepared well, and he was about to deliver his rehearsed response. He seemed to preempt every one of my questions, my moods and thoughts. It was unhinging me more than any violence could have done.

  “I may as well just tell you, Michael. Maria always did say you hated guessing games. No surprises.”

  Hearing him say my mother’s name so casually, so intimately, it gave me a chill. I wanted to clear my throat, but was afraid if I made a sound I would shatter the pieces of the puzzle as they were being spread out before me.

  “I will tell you, just a little of my personal history. I started out in banking. I was about the same age as you, a college graduate and working my way up from branch consultant, when… well, let’s just say an opportunity arose that was too good to miss. I ascended rapidly to a position of trust, high within a major bank’s corporate nerve center. I was on intimate terms with the CEOs and I was afforded generous bonuses for the business I was driving their way.”

  I had already noticed my mind wandering. His mention of my mother brought my attention back, snatching my eyes away from the small plastic bag of white powder, and right back to his calm gray eyes in the rearview.

  “I was personally responsible for establishing trust funds for your sister, Mia and yourself. Michael and Mia Leone. Ten million dollars each. Not a large sum, but she had managed to save it all herself. She was very clever, your mother.”

  I wasn’t sure if I was imagining figures now, or if Claridge was even telling the truth. My reasoning had been shot to pieces by his offer, by his staggering knowledge of our most intimate family details. To be told there was ten million sitting somewhere for me was too much. I spun around in my seat to face him. The barrel of the pistol was cold against the end of my nose.

  “Turn back and face the road at once! I will not tell you again, Michael! If you continue to disobey simple instructions, you will get nothing and I will make sure you watch each of them die. In fact, I’ll make sure it’s your own hand who takes her life… and the boy’s. Now, eyes front!”

  I broke down, I couldn’t take it anymore. I felt the sobs bouncing in my chest, then heard them spill out of me, like balls of hurt that bounced off the interior of the car. I wished I had died, seventy times over. Anything was better than a continuous mental torture, promises of so much money, coke at my elbow, and never knowing truly if it was all lies. He’d managed to break me in less than eight hours. I got the feeling he was a little disappointed it took him so long.

  Totally ignoring my meltdown, he continued his self-serving monologue. I was his captive audience, whether I cried like a baby or laughed like a lunatic. I did find it at least oddly soothing, to hear somebody speak of my mother with such affection. Even though it repulsed me if I focused on the fact that it was Claridge.

  Despite my better judgment, my emotions were fractured. I let his soft voice carry m
e away in a half sleep, to the times before the Leone Empire, when things in Italy and America were very different than they were today. When opportunities were really there for the taking by the bold, the adventurous, and of course, the criminal.

  My mind swirled as I closed my eyes, I was in pre-war Italy, then America. I was with Natalia one minute and then a child at my mother’s side again, the next. I recalled happier times, before I could even formulate the thought of happiness. The contentment of ignorance. The knowledge of knowing nothing, the innocence of being a child.

  The honking of a car horn startled me. I could hear a muffled yell. “Hey asshole! Move it or lose it, I’m late for work!”

  I jumped in my seat, I was aware of the car in stages. The daylight through the windshield was blinding. I noticed the opposite lanes were still empty, except one car, speeding away behind me. I spun around; expecting to see Claridge’s gun, to hear his orders again, but the car was empty. I was alone.

  The car behind me sounded the horn again, for longer this time. I noticed the handgun placed neatly on the seat beside me, the cocaine on the armrest. I felt the compulsion to pick up the gun, to get out of the car, to go to the car behind me and shoot the driver who was yelling. Yep, right in the face until I couldn’t hear anything over the ring of my ears after the shots had deafened me.

  I had to shake my head, to dispel the urge. I held up both hands in apology and skidded the car forward, almost stalling the motor, my foot too heavy between the brake and the gas in gear.

  After a few minutes, once the traffic had evened out, I pulled over to the side of the freeway, into a truck stop. I was shaking all over. I stopped the car, opened the door and threw up, then sat in the car for a half hour, crying out loud until only dry sobs hurt my throat.