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

by Suzanne Hart

  I got a call from Nicholas, he sounded more wound up than ever. “What did you do, Natalia? What have you done?” I really had no idea what he was talking about. “You and that Leone, you’re up to something. He’s gone. Vanished! And there’s a ton of coke and money missing from the house. Two men are down, one is dead!”

  I felt the pangs of fear again, worrying about Mikey and hoping he was safe, while wondering why he would do any of that. “Nicholas, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Really!” And I didn’t. I had no idea what Mikey was doing.

  “Word on the street is that his old man is dying, on his deathbed. Papa’s just ordered me to announce a bounty for any Leone head. And ten million for the head of his only daughter, Mia. He’s your boyfriend, what the hell do you think he’s up to if you don’t have anything to do with it? I think you should find a new boyfriend, sis. One day Pop loved him like his own, now he wants him dead, how do you figure that one out?”

  I didn’t say a word, because my mind was tabulating how long it would be before I could maybe get the documents from mother and then get them to Claridge, somehow. I had a strong suspicion he had something to do with Don Leone’s situation as well, but I couldn’t be sure. I asked Nicholas what he thought, had he heard of anyone called Claridge?

  He laughed. “Natalia, you really are a funny one. This is why the men run the show and the girls just spend all the money. Papa planted doctors, lawyers, the whole bit in the Leone camp ages ago. He’s been planning his revenge on the Leones for a loooong time, sister. Way before you even thought of screwing his son. Although, I must admit, something has him spooked lately.”

  Thirty-Eight

  Mikey

  I was a father! Well, I was going to be. I was floating on a different kind of cloud, but still had to get my ass out of the Bernardi house and as far away as I could manage it. The house was in an uproar, with lots; most of the men reacting violently to the drug they had taken. I figured it was uncut or impure somehow, either way; it was a good chance to escape.

  On the way down the stairs and looking for a safe way outside, I had come across some cash, some more drugs, and a very handsome pair of titanium-handled pistols, which I managed to scoop up to take with me on my journey.

  Where was I headed? Out! That was my mantra until I felt the rush of cooler air against my flushed cheeks. I could still hear the ruckus from outside, and it was like all hell had broken loose.

  Mobsters really needed to keep their keys with them, too. It was nothing for me to find a nice ride with the silver winking at me from the steering column. I was back on the freeway within minutes, thanks to a V12 engine and a full tank of gas. I also had enough cash and drugs to keep me out of trouble for a while, or enough to get me into a whole bunch of trouble. I was banking on the former, vowing to keep it real and to lay low while I made my way to Natalia.

  This car could do it under 24 hours, why not? I’d like to see the cop who could keep up with me, let alone catch me!

  I spent the first hour or two checking the mirrors, really believing it had been too easy to just walk out of the Bernardi den and into one of their prize machines, unscathed. I figured I really had been too hard on myself. I really was one lucky guy when it came down to it. Things went bad for a while, but they always came good again. There I was, a few days after my last failed attempt at drugs and money; flush again. It wasn’t a container load, no siree, but I trusted Natalia’s plan, whatever it was, to get Claridge his loot so I could get mine.

  Holy fuckin’ crap! I’m a millionaire again!

  Holy fuckin’ crap, I’m a father to a Bernardi baby!

  I had to pull over, I got sick. The whole thing had hit me worse than the come-down from that Bernardi junk they’d hit me with.

  I had really done it this time, there was no going back. Would Natalia tell her father, or would we bank on clearing out with whatever we could get from supplying Claridge with enough info on Bernardi? Would Claridge even pony-up the dough?

  I sincerely doubted it. The guy was snake, a dangerous and very venomous snake. Even I knew, in my heart of hearts, that he wasn’t just going to hand over a hundred million or more to little old Mikey Leone for a few names on some sheets of paper, even if I did have them. No, dealing with him, thinking I could win would be suicide. I had to trust in what Natalia had told me and just focus on staying alive.

  At the time, that meant avoiding my family, as well as the Bernardis at all costs. I was parked on the shoulder of the highway in a half a million dollar sports car with about a kilo of drugs and a pair of handguns. I also had enough cash for a small continent. My bravado had faded and I was paranoid again. I turned around at the next exit and, taking the long, slow, back way, I made my way back to the city. I decided to hide out at the warehouse until the morning. I knew it would be empty until then. I just had to last until then.

  I was cold, hungry and beyond tired. The warehouse was empty, as I predicted, but there was little there in the way of comfort. I was able to get into the place, but it seemed dire. I had stowed the car inside, enjoying the cramped leather interior for only a short while before opting for the camp bed and a half quart bottle of bourbon I found in the office.

  I went over it all again in my mind. Even if I had the papers to give Claridge, right at that moment, he’d just kill me and take them anyway. There was no way I could get anything from him.

  Taking a large swig from the bottle, I mused out loud to myself. “Yes sir! Ol’ Claridge would shoot you in the eye before he parted with one god-damned cent, Mikey Leone! That he would!” I belched loudly, then laughed, hushing myself as soon as I heard a sound outside the office door.

  “Oh, I don’t know, Michael. Do you really distrust me that much?”

  It was the man himself.

  How does he always manage to find me?

  His look was grave; he didn’t have so much confidence today. He also seemed in a hurry. “Driving a car like that; you’re bound to attract attention. The police is looking for it as we speak. I have a police scanner, or rather, a friend of mine does.”

  “What do you want this time?” I asked, with a slurring swagger in my voice. In my mind, I’d already beaten the guy. I had forgotten the part of the plan where we actually gave him what he wanted.

  His face shifted, back to a menacing grimace. “You’re actually worth a little bit more now dead than alive, Michael. So is your sister.”

  I sat up, feeling the anger rising at the mere thought of him mentioning my sister like that. “What the hell are you talking about!?” I demanded.

  “Bernardi. He has put a price on your head. So much for the in-laws, huh? As for your sister, he’s offering a cool ten million. Dead or Alive.”

  I charged at him, growling then screaming. Claridge only had to step a little to one side to avoid me. I was drunk and sprawled onto the floor past him. I hauled myself up, ready for another attack, turning to see him pulling some surgical gloves on.

  He exhaled loudly, taking a syringe from his pocket. “Why must you insist on making everything so dramatic, Michael? Hmmm.”

  He held the needle up, squirting a little into the air as I charged him again. I felt the needle in my neck, then cried out as it snapped. The spinning of the whole warehouse, coupled with a numbness and inability to stand or speak told me that Claridge’s needle had found its mark.

  I’d staggered behind some crates and passed out. My last memory was of a security guard with a flashlight, calling out to whoever was there to freeze.

  I remember it was morning. There were men in the yard. I couldn’t make them out, they were just menacing shapes. I fired at one of them, but he came in. I was seeing triple by the time he was anywhere near me. I heard Slade’s voice, then collapsed.

  I knew I was safe, but only for a little while. Slade’s voice was unmistakable, and so was his sarcasm. He did everything out of a sense of honor. I knew he’d be the same, even if he didn’t work for my father.

  The next
time I came too, I was in the family Lakehouse, my favorite place from my childhood. It was only ever used for business since then, with neither Mia or myself having been there for over a decade.

  I was trying to speak, to ask what they were doing to me, to ask why I was being restrained in my own family’s house, but I kept blacking out or lapsing into withdrawals from the drugs I had become so accustomed to taking every few hours, then minutes over the past few weeks.

  There were drugs aplenty still, but they were being given to me by a doctor. “To help with the withdrawals only. I don’t know what else you took, but it nearly killed you. We’ll make sure you get better, Mikey, I promise.”

  The sound of helicopters woke me from a nightmare I was having about Claridge. I was wide awake suddenly, terrified for Natalia. If Claridge had tried to get me, he was sure to go after her, and Mia.

  Mia!

  She had her own security team, I reminded myself. Her whole building, her life, was Fort Knox. She’d be safe. It was Natalia I was most worried about.

  One of the men burst into the room, barring the door behind him and loading an automatic rifle, he handed me a pistol. “Shouldn’t be anything too serious, Mikey. Just in case…”

  The next second the wall was missing, along with the top section of the man who’d just handed me the gun, which was blown out of my hand from the blast. I couldn’t hear anything, only the high-pitched ringing and a rapid booming sound from my heartbeat, or maybe it was the helicopter that hovered level with the room I was in, what was left of it.

  It was a huge, military-looking machine, with wide doors on the sides, and men hanging from each side who were firing in short bursts as they selected, and hit their targets. A huge cannon at the front was peppering the woodland and whole area surrounding the house. It was a terrifying yet terrific sight.

  In the middle, at the very center of the chaos on board the helicopter, I could make out the seated figure of Carlo Bernardi. He was wearing battle fatigues, a cigar held at the corner of his mouth. His eyes met mine, and they were like two, huge, black discs, burning into me.

  He jutted his chin in command and several men exited the chopper, cut me free and had me aboard before I knew what was happening. I felt the ground fall away from underneath us as we went low at first, then hugged the hills and mountainside which surrounded the lake, before climbing higher into the air.

  Three men held me as Don Bernardi surveyed me from head to toe. I was shaking like a leaf, sweating, and still couldn’t hear anything. I don’t know how bad it must have looked, but he seemed to find it funny all of a sudden.

  He reached into his top pocket, produced a cigar and, sticking it into my mouth, began to slap me on the shoulder and was kissing me on both cheeks, roughly. I could see him mouthing the words, “My son! My son!” over and over again, with the men around him pretending to share the joy of the moment.

  Thirty-Nine

  Natalia

  It had been four days and I’d heard nothing. I was frantic about Mikey, his phone was dead and I was getting no information from the men at the house. The only person I did hear from was my mother. She said it would be easier for me if she came down there, to give me what I needed to get Claridge off our case.

  “But what about Mikey? Have you heard anything? And where’s Papa?” I couldn’t help but think that the worst had happened. I hated not knowing what was going on and hearing absolutely nothing from anybody had taken its toll on me.

  “It’s alright, Natalia. Calm yourself. Think of your health! All this excitement is no good for you, or the baby. I asked you to trust me, remember? And I also promised that everything would be alright and it will be, in just a little while.”

  She had meant well, I know, but her words did nothing to calm me. Getting off the phone from her, I was almost tempted to call the cops and report Mikey, my father even, as missing persons.

  Mother had said that the house was virtually empty, with lots of cars and helicopters going everywhere for a day or two, then nothing since. She didn’t seem worried. Nothing seemed to worry her anymore. She had made her peace with the world and was waiting to die, hoping to live long enough to make the difference she had planned to. I only wished I knew what the hell it was.

  I was having trouble telling the difference between agonizing worry and nausea from the pregnancy. I had managed though, largely out of a need to do something other than pace the house; get to the doctor who confirmed the pregnancy. I had called Pippa and Felix, trying to hold them both off for just a few more days before coming back. Montana had lost all of its wonderment and they both just wanted to come home.

  Please be safe, Mikey! I just want you to be alright, I don’t care about the money anymore, and I just want you back here with me!

  True to form, Claridge contacted me at the worst possible time. At least, I told myself, he hadn’t crept into the house. Maybe he had tried, but I had tripled the security of the place since he’d last been there.

  He sounded surprised, then annoyed when I started to do all the talking. “I have what you want, Claridge. But I don’t think I trust you enough to just hand it over. Who’s to say you won’t just kill us all anyway? You seem to have the most annoying habit of just turning up, uninvited.”

  He was silent for a moment. I could hear him breathing on the other end of the line. He didn’t sound like he was smiling this time.

  “You seem a little more… confident these days, Natalia. I thought you were happy with our original agreement. You have the bank transfer still? All you need to do is nominate a figure, provide the documents and the funds will be released within forty-eight hours, as discussed.” He seemed to relax into the terms as he had set them up. Hearing his own voice relaying back to him what he had planned. It seemed to soothe him back to his conniving self.

  I was at a loss for anything to say. To his credit, he had so far kept up with his end of the deal, and it was I who hadn’t done anything to cement the agreement.

  “Well, Natalia?” He was polite, almost concerned. Like asking a schoolgirl if her parents really knew where she was and should she be wearing that outfit.

  I exhaled loudly. “Alright, alright. But what assurances do I have, apart from a few million in Escrow, that you won’t bother us anymore?”

  He laughed his muffled little laugh. “A few million? Us? You’re talking a riddle, my dear. Explain to me please, exactly how much you want and exactly who am I supposed to leave alone?”

  I breathed nervously through my nose for a whole minute. I had to come up with a figure that he would agree upon. I also had to be careful not to let him know that I knew he had set up a similar agreement with Mikey.

  I decided to go conservative, to keep him interested in the game but not think I was being too unreasonable either. I mean, how much was the Bernardi fortune really worth? I really didn’t know.

  “Twenty-five million,” I said flatly, screwing up my eyes as soon as I heard myself say it. It was too low. There was no way I could live on that for the rest of my days, even if he did pay it and we had some extra money from elsewhere. I regretted it as soon as I said it. Claridge was quiet. I could hear the tapping of a keyboard on the other end of the line.

  Is he doing the math? Holy shit, maybe he will pay.

  He cleared his throat, taking on a very professional and matter of fact tone. “Very well. I have set up a transfer for that amount, to be held in Escrow until I release it upon receipt of the requested documents. Please, understand I will need a little time to validate the information you provide. If you provide false or misleading information, no funds and… well… we don’t want that now, do we?” He was silent again, waiting for a response from me that never came. “I’ll contact you to arrange collection of the documents.” He hung up.

  I practically collapsed from not breathing once he’d hung up. I was gasping for air, feeling giddy as the oxygen rushed back to my brain. I unconsciously began to rub my belly, which was still flat as a tack, but it
felt better when I did.

  I hope Mikey still wants me when I get big. And after, when I get all saggy. I should have said at least a hundred million.

  I was sleeping soundly for the first time in a long time, the phone ringing had brought me out of a dream I could’ve stayed in forever. I groaned before answering. Glancing at the clock by the bed, it was three am. Then I answered in a hurry, in case something was wrong, in case it was Felix or Mikey.

  It was my father. The last person I would have expected to call me at that hour. He sounded drunk, but more drunk with excitement than anything else. I remember thinking he must have lost his mind completely.

  “Natalia! How are you, my beautiful girl? Did I wake you? I’m sorry!” He was raving about being a proud father-in-law, finally getting to stick to the Leone’s once and for all.

  I would normally have just hung up and gone back to sleep, figuring Papa had too much wine at dinner, but I was so frantic with worry about him, Mikey, and everybody else who hadn’t contacted me, I had to know what was happening.

  “Papa! Are you alright? What’s happened!?” He was laughing and cajoling me like a little child. I could hear a lot of activity in the background, and some men were cheering and there was a lot of what sounded like glasses or plates being broken.

  Then I heard Mikey’s voice, he was calling out to me, Papa got annoyed. “Hey! Fucking quiet! Like we agreed, huh? I’ll fucking… anyway, Natalia! Here I am on my beautiful island with your boyfriend, my newest son, eh? He told me that you two had… well… y’know… and now you have to be married. It’s tradition! It’s not right for a girl to have a baby out of wedlock! Not my girl, anyhow!”

  I felt my stomach cramping up, my mouth getting dry and then running with saliva as I felt myself about to get sick. His voice had gone from friendly and happy, to mean, cutting and nasty. He would bark his words when he was that angry, he’d shake; white with rage.