For Blood and Beast: Tomas, For Blood (Garko Book 1)

by Gia P. Leonne

  "I remember hearing this happened. I didn't think it was true." I read further. 'Illyrians' model to truly work it required control of Europe's ports.

  "They came, many were already here, in New York and there Italy, established, rooted from the diaspora."

  "So, to gain New York they needed you out of the way. Your family ... oh no ...Tom—."

  "Ughem,"

  "Sorry ... Beast, someone in the family, very high up came against you, knew you would not agree to any deal involving blind access to the docks, especially to foreign terrorists."

  "The Illyrians shook the trees, and all the rotten apples started falling, starting with La Familia Garko. Street gangs followed, suffering profits because the enemy flooded the streets with cocaine purer and cheaper. They have done the same now in the United Kingdom. Everyone turned against each other.

  Early on Donny was seriously injured and, in his absence, well it was hard to trust anyone with his responsibilities. It was a tough time, but to show weakness…

  "Are you calling his fight for his life a weakness?"

  "Yes."

  "As we moved towards legitimacy, we became richer, more secure, for a decade, yet our enemies thought us weakening."

  "You sound as if you believe legitimacy, was a mistake."

  "Me... yes. Criminals respect violence, they'll respond to order if you show them who is master."

  "Um. Okay." That was dark. Matter a fact every response from this drugged Tomas is dark, cruel, and fatal. This way, or no way. Not like the demanding, but fair Tomas.

  "Those rebellious against legitimacy or maybe your reign in general, the usurper, thought you weak with Donatello hurt and tried to take you out, you... did... what?"

  "The stripper was pregnant; we needed to protect our seed. Not be weak again like for Cecelia and Electra. The Doc, Jasmine— he smiled lust on his face—helped. Donny rolled me away as if I was dead. But with me dead, the cease-fire agreement passed easily. Which was the beginning to an end we live, now."

  I tried to turn the conversation to something he loved.

  "How is Donny now, his health? He looks well." This compliment he did not like. Ditto, I would search Doctor Jasmine when he fell asleep.

  "He is upset, reluctant, but bound by his heart to me. His security game is efficient. He's rich, does not need the scent of shit La Familia leaves on you. Walking away from the family breathing is not an easy task."

  "You both did it."

  "Did we? First, Tomas was filled with bullets, hardly breathing, drugged, his heartbeat so slow a coroner pronounced us officially dead. Second, here we are."

  "Where did you go? You know, I'm gonna keep asking as long as you keep answering."

  At least until the incorrect pronouns and third-person references, confuse me totally.

  "We traveled where the sun hangs in the sky all day and turquoise beaches wash away, bad men's memories, and sometimes soothe their Beasts. South America."

  "You said your mother and sisters live there, in Brazil?"

  "We need to rest. Talk to Tomas, after."

  Hmm, okay. He began snoring.

  "You were telling me your mother and sisters are in Brazil."

  He sat up seemingly much weaker.

  "Was I now?"

  "Yes, the Moraes family name holds enormous weight, a major player in Sao Paulo, Curitiba, and Rio De Janeiro and has been for generations."

  "I guess I was. That's all true."

  "Did they receive you well, your mother's family."

  "Si, they had been wishing for me and received me with open arms. The Garko's could learn a lot from the Moraes. Of course, over three hundred years of inhabitation and stability can make one content and generous.

  "Wow, I thought I had a rich heritage. Living on the same continent, along with being landowners for many generations must be awesome. You're probably related to everyone in those places within one or two degrees."

  "Never thought of it that way but yeah, I met many relatives, avoided Ernesto, everyone connected to the Moraes family hates him, because of his treatment of my mother when she came to the states and married my father. And the food, Dios Mios. I gained many pounds. My stint in prison helped tighten the physique."

  His demeanor is.... lighter, playful, seductive. I think the nap helped. So, I push further.

  "I am going to throw this out there. Your capture in Brazil, it was part of your plan. I mean for the future."

  "A lawyer or reporter? You don't miss much. Just how long have you been pumping me for information while I've been compromised."

  I note his meaning, share time is over. His glare said he still wanted in my pants.

  "Not long, you were pretty out of it though. You carried on and on about how extraordinary I was; how you never met anyone like me..."

  I met him a glare for glare and gave him my most alluring smirk. I go on…

  "How you would never tire of me, couldn't live another day without me."

  "You are lovely. Is this all I said?"

  "You may have mentioned how grateful you were I encouraged you to send the pussy wagon away. You have serious business to take care of, no time for STD treatments and such."

  He started to choke. Oh no, no, no, I've gone too far, again.

  CHAPTER 23

  Frenemies

  Tomas

  Machines buzzed and alerts flared as six people ran to the room and the girl stared wide-eyed. She didn't appear to want me dead. But I'd be damned if she didn't give it her one hundred. This fucking girl. Ass still perky as ever I saw as she turned to let the others closer.

  "His heart rate just increased," Donny said. "What do we need to do?"

  "You're not doing shit." I gasped catching my breath. "My salvia flowed wrong. I'll be fine. Please don't amputate Dr. Donatello." This jest cost me, I began coughing uncontrollably.

  "You're a sorry fucker. Always making us think you're going to die. Get him some fuckin water or something."

  "Ughem. Die? The girl said I had a punctured side, no organ, ughem, nothing fatal."

  "The girl!" The girl huffed. Sensitive females and with that slip of my tongue, she ran, as I'm learning she loves to do. At this moment, I cannot chase.

  "Want me to get her for you, Boss."

  Tank, he is a little soft on her, too. I need to watch him. She could twist him up bad if her intentions led that way.

  "No, let her be." My eyes switched to my fratello. I took a few ice chips. "Donny, what the fuck?" He knew exactly what I was asking.

  "They are trying to take the threat out before it starts."

  "How would they know I have any plans but to hide away on my mountain? I've taken two meetings."

  "Your meetings always result in body count and a message of war to all that come against you. Were we going for reconciliation, because we missed that in our instructions?"

  "Smartass." I closed my eyes.

  "You must know what the word on the street has been since you were spotted at the parade of San Gennaro. The dock incident, you heard about it, right? An entire crew of men was missing. Days later eight turned up in a container filled with millions … cash labeled for transport to Albania. The other men they continue the search, but the families are preparing for funerals."

  He fucking knew I heard it and that I had done it.

  "They're all saying old ways are coming back, Kanun street thugs better run."

  "Shit, I hear people we never provided protection are resisting against the Kanun, withholding payments, girls are escaping, hiding trying to wait it out," Tommy adds

  "For what?"

  "Their King."

  "Fuck, Tomas things are extremely fucked up. I know you know this, how the chaos the evil Kanun organizes impact the lives of everyday people."

  "La Familia is still in New York, what the fuck, they must do more until we are ready?"

  "They are reacting to fires, many little fires, without enough manpower to make a big move. And move on who. They
come and go across international waters as if they own the ocean. One leader and his crew set up, while another is at home preparing. The one reigns for roughly a year when he and his men disappear and are replaced by, just as ruthless, if not more, animals. Only the grunts live here or have any kind of semi permanence. And there are hundreds of them everywhere. You know them from the real players because they can barely speak English, if at all. They create the fires La Familia busily extinguishes.

  "You learned their entire set up since I contacted you, nice work."

  "I run a surveillance and security service. I am a fucking ...." I finish for him.

  "Professional, Donatello. Yes, I know."

  He shook his head. "Back to doing whatever the hell you were doing, everybody."

  "Not you Tank." I make sure everyone has left. "So, Evee?"

  "Yeah Boss."

  "What do you think about her?"

  "I fuckin don't Boss. What are you asking?"

  "She's a fine-looking woman. Smart. Asks a lot of questions. I'd like to be with her. So, I'm trying to feel you out on what you think of her."

  "She's friendly." He nods. "My wife died while I was in Prison the first time. I should have been out protecting her. Instead, I was locked up… cause, you see, this chick I was messing around with ... her boyfriend or husband, not sure, in court they said, husband. Well, he came after me. I handled it and ... yeah well ... I haven't been with nobody since."

  "Since.... help me out Tank."

  "Since I got out and she was dead and laid to rest."

  "Your first stint was in 2010. That's… fuck."

  "Yeah. I'm always saying I'm gonna. But I don't."

  "Take your time, Tank. Grieve as fucking long as you like."

  "Grieving, that's what this is. You're fucking right Boss. I'm still grieving…. About Evelyne, I was outside the door when you were telling her about your Bisnonna."

  He looked at me as if he did not know what to tell me.

  "Yeah, she was a second parent to me. I don't remember telling her anything... Fucking anesthesia. Did I tell her where I keep the Gold bars, too?"

  We laughed.

  "You gave her the gold and provided the combination to the safe"

  "Don't worry Tank. I've had her checked out, thoroughly —he looked doubtful— You doubt my Intel? Her family is beyond wealthy, she's not the usual money trap. Her father is an international diplomat. Her mother is old money, traditional, and runs the family's international nonprofit, a Women's and Children's Rights Advocacy. How shady could they be?"

  Why am I now trying to sell Tank on Evee?

  "No doubt. People miss things when they are close to people. I saw her move through three locked doors like an old G' cat burglar, only to dismantle the alarm wiring on the basement window."

  "hmmph, how did you know she was trying to escape?"

  "We only caught her because of Donatello's backup tech, an old paint can; it falls if the window is opened. Hit her right on top of her head, but with all that hair, it didn't even make a dent, I checked her. We heard it crash to the floor though." We laughed.

  "When I met her, she was lifting wallets. It surprised me to learn she came from money. She's young, rebellious. I figure she's looking for attention and I plan to give it to her." We both smile at each other the way perverted men do. "Spoiled rich kid. Nobody's perfect right?"

  "Rich, beautiful, smart, and a criminal... she might be perfect for you, Boss." And he leaves me alone.

  But I'm not as nonchalant acting like chatty Kathy as I made Tank believe. First, I deliver a monologue about Cecilia, now my Bisnonna?

  What the ever-loving Fuck!

  Why, would I speak to Evee about Bisnonna Maria and Beast!

  What did I say about La Familia, Bolivia, and the Illyrian!

  I'm worried why I'm this comfortable with her, this sanctions my men to follow my lead. The last thing I need is another rejected female giving an expose on Tomas Massimo de Moraes Garko and the mob. In the past, the information was bullshit, reproduced criminal acts they got from some gangster movie, supposedly validated by a stolen selfie with me. But I've served this girl serious meat. We haven't even fucked! My cock jumps, mercy it works. I better stop getting stabbed and shot.

  I told Tank I'd had her checked out, but not the depth. I'm not worried if my Intel is legit. The CIA is checking anyone standing within my three feet perimeter, another clear reason I chose mountain solitude and missing Sunday dinner at Ernesto's.

  "We will deal with any civilian problems quickly and with permanence." Your U.S. Government words, not mine. The International community was on a complete meltdown over the Illyrian Mafia's ability to gain a foothold in the U.S., then the U.K., and now South America. Tomas Garko was now, the villain and the superhero to this fucking nightmare. So, yeah she'd been checked out by my people, their people, all the peoples. I'm fucking high... and exhausted.

  Drifting to sleep, I remember the look of awe in Evee face while I shared, how a New York, first the wives club, introduced a young exotic enterprising capo into their beds and into their husband's social circles. How I sold my soul to gain everything I needed to blackmail executives and finance men who controlled the permits to real estate we could afford ten times over but without reason never resulted in a winning bid. How I crawled under the rug and picked every nasty crumb, I could uncover regarding the elitist bastards.

  I gave her the key to my future endeavors, my not so permanent intentions towards her, the promises I may not be able to keep, my ascension, just how far I planned to take it.

  Yeah, I'm sure I told her everything. My sweet Evee. My last thought as I drifted to sleep, I fucked up, now I just might have to fuck you and afterward snap your neck.

  CHAPTER 24

  The Girl

  Evee

  The girl'

  Assholes don't know when they are winning. Maybe the time for me to ghost has come, let him miss me some. Besides, the man was stabbed just five weeks ago, he deserves a peaceful recovery. Very adult-like thinking on my part, maybe I am maturing. Or maybe the truth is, he hurt me and I'm running as I do sometimes.

  Okay, I run a lot.

  A man said two words and pierced my heart. Life has usually saved that deed for my famous mother.

  As a girl, whenever I was feeling bad or insecure from my mother's insults, I would crawl into my father's lap, and nestle my head into his chest. He would wrap his arms around me and ask, "Who loves you best?" only then would I exhale— to answer.

  "Men will come and go Evelyne, I am the one man who will always be there for you." And I believed him, until the days he spent elsewhere increased, and his time spent with us declined.

  His excuses I held onto because without faith in him, I had nothing. He told me if he stayed home too long, we would witness his disrespect for his wife, our mother, and he would not want us to ever remember it had to be this way between woman and man. His Diplomatic profession was a great cover for family and friends who wondered about his continued absence.

  "Leave her," I told him, "get a divorce," I said when I was old enough to realize how adults fixed things, "no," he replied, angering my seven-year-old self, "Just as our Father in Heaven demonstrates unconditional love, we on earth need to display this as well." And then he showed me to pray, how to forgive her when she ranted about my "demon spirit."

  No matter how many of his shoes I burned in the backyard, believing it would force him to stay, or created fires, just for comfort, there was no ridicule, just concern, and lectures on safety… muddled with forgiveness. This is the treatment I anticipate from a man, friend, lover, or husband. Not, "the girl," as if there was no need for his men to remember my name because my parting was coming just as quickly as my entering.

  No, stronzo gangster is going to disrespect, this daddy's girl. Treat me like a second class puttana, Hell to the no.

  For weeks I execute the play I learned from my papa, avoidance, absence, and treat Tomas as he has the pl
ague. I spend most of my time in his kitchen. Cooknasty's former kitchen. I smile.

  I forgive him sooner than I expect, but I don't forget. In a fury of organizing, cleaning, and cooking everything his sensitive healing body is unable to digest, assured even in this mammoth structure called a house, the aromas reach him, torturing his senses.

  I send his bland nonaromatic porridge substance, by courier. Smile.

  The rest of my time I spend snooping and scoping Donatello's meticulous security system. I deem him worthy of his self-proclaimed professionalism; however, I was learning similar system schematics at thirteen, while he was no doubt twenty-one on his first drive-by shooting. The boys, as Tomas, calls Tank, Sylver, and Tommy, allow more leeway around the house because I stuff them day and night with meaty cuisines and sweet baked treats. They will not forget the name Evelyne Ponti Basso for quite some time.

  Taking over his boys

  "Boss keeps asking for you Evee. I can't make up any more excuses, today." Tommy says in between chewing.

  "He knows." Tank says stuffing his face with a huge spoonful of lasagna.

  "Where did you learn how to cook like this, you are so …"

  "Young." I finish for him.

  "In Rome where I was born, specialty cuisine is everywhere, and everyone is a chef trying to outdo their neighbor with this century-old family recipe or that secret ingredient. My mother for all her inconsistencies, along with my bisnonna and aunt taught us to love food and create what we loved. The joy I receive from the art of cooking is one way I can appreciate and love my mama."

  "My mama cooked while complaining, Tank you better not be humping on that little whore, Maria next door, now pass mama the flour. Tank I'll beat you silly if you don't stop skipping classes, now pass your mama the noodles." Then he stuffs his mouth.

  "I've never seen anyone eat lasagna with a large spoon." I frown.

  "More of everything fits on a spoon." His expression asks why I do not know this.

  "Maybe that's not a good thing. How are your bowel movements… daily?" My eyebrows raised I am my mother.

  "Don't ruin my brief visit to heaven, Miss Basso."