by Ginger Ring
Chasing
Arlo
Genoa Mafia Series Book V
By Ginger Ring
Chasing Arlo
Copyright © 2020 by Ginger Ring.
All rights reserved.
First Print Edition: April 2020
Limitless Publishing, LLC
Kailua, HI 96734
www.limitlesspublishing.com
Formatting: Book Pages By Design
Cover Design: Deranged Doctor Design
Photographer: JW Photography
Model: Robert Kelly
ISBN-13: 978-1-64034-919-3
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.
Dedication
For my father
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Epilogue
Chapter One
Chicago
Thirteen years earlier
Arlo
“Have I told you how much I hate parties?” Arlo Brunetti groaned.
“Yeah. At least ten times since we left the house. Relax.” His best friend, Roman Caponelli, nodded and turned to face him. “We have to be here. Do you think I like it any more than you do?”
Arlo flexed his fingers. The fact they had to leave all weapons at the door just added to his discomfort. Damn, he felt naked without his knives and guns. “It’s different for you.”
“Really?” Roman lifted his eyebrow. “How so?”
“Come on. You’re important. I’m not,” Arlo spat under his breath. “Everyone is looking at you with high regard while I’m dirt. Less than dirt. These social events are bullshit, and this.” He waved his hand at the crowd. “A god damned masquerade ball. What the fuck, Roman?” It was actually a birthday party for Layla Rinaldi but who the hell cared. He didn’t even know what she looked like. She was just another mafia princess among the many. The pampered only child of Bruno Rinaldi. All the girls looked alike with the dim light and masks hiding their eyes.
Not only couldn’t they have their guns but they were required to wear masks. Talk about taking your life in your hands. This was a logistical nightmare as far as security went and that was the only reason he was there. To protect Roman. They were there to represent the Caponelli family. Roman’s parents and his little sister Valentina were also in attendance but they had their own bodyguards.
The ball-slash-birthday party was the full spectrum of over indulgence. It was on the level of a mafia wedding. All the women had over done hair, elaborate masks, and beaded dresses. And the flowers. Thousands and thousands of dollars’ worth of flowers and gifts. Arlo’d never seen so many bouquets and pretentious people in his life. The room reeked of roses and overpowering perfume. Even worse, as a bodyguard for Roman and soldier for Roman’s father, he was expected to wear a frickin’ tux. A goddamn monkey suit. At least they’d paid for the rental. Roman’s, however, was custom made.
“You are important. There’s no way we can ever thank you enough for what you’ve done for the family, but I agree. We’re only here out of respect, not for enjoyment. A birthday party for some rival family’s brat is the last thing I want to do today. Just buck it up for a couple more hours and then we can get the hell out of here.”
“I’m bored,” Arlo grumbled and glanced around the room.
“So am I, but one day, we’ll be standing here at one of our kids’ parties and we can laugh at how bored all the young soldiers are.”
“Maybe you, but I’m never getting married and never having kids.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest.
“Famous last words. You’ll probably get hitched before me.” Roman elbowed him.
“I doubt that. You’re the ladies’ man, not me.”
“Doesn’t mean I want to be shackled to one but I have to carry on the family name.” Roman took a sip of champagne and puffed out his cheeks. “I need something stronger than this shit.” He set the flute on a nearby table. They were both only twenty years old but the mob didn’t have a drinking age. You were old enough to kill, you were old enough to do whatever the hell you wanted to.
“I’m bored as fuck,” Arlo repeated and ripped off his mask. You’d think just getting out of prison he’d be craving the company of others but it just reminded him of the hierarchy of the joint. There he was a small fish in a polluted pond of blotted grass crap.
“I agree. I’d much rather be spending my time with a long-legged redhead. Or blonde. Or brunette. Really don’t care right now.” His buddy was probably picking out his next conquest right now.
“I hear ya, Romeo.” It was his nickname but very few dared call Roman that to his face. The guy went through women like a chain smoker went through cartons of cigarettes. “At least the food is good.” The fact that he’d been able to sit at the table with the Caponellis was a blessing but he couldn’t complain about anything they did. They were family to him.
The band started up again for their last set. Hopefully they wouldn’t have to stay too much more. If he had to watch a bunch of teenage girls jump around a dance floor any longer, he’d slit his wrists.
Arlo rocked back and forth. He was on edge and needed to blow off some steam. “Fuck, how soon can we leave? I can’t take much more of this.”
“Look, I don’t want to be here either but shut the fuck up.” He raised his voice. “You’re driving me crazy. Go find some girl to dance with.” Roman shook his head.
“What girls?” Arlo knew he was being a dick but his patience was running on empty. If he was miserable, Roman was going to be also.
Roman nudged him in the arm. “Over there. That blonde’s been eyeing you for half an hour. Now get the hell out of here.”
“What about you?” Technically he was supposed to be working, not dancing. He shouldn’t leave Roman’s side.
“I’ll be fine. I need to talk to my father anyway, so I’m going back to their table.”
Arlo glanced at the area where Roman’s family had gathered. There were at least three bodyguards standing nearby so they wouldn’t need a fourth.
“You sure?” Maybe some female company would improve his mood. It couldn’t get any worse.
“Yes, get out of here. Please,” Roman added before walking away.
Arlo returned his gaze to the young women laughing and standing around the punch bowl. It was hard to tell what her face looked like but the girl Roman had mentioned kept smiling his way. He cu
rsed under his breath and headed in their direction. Maybe spending some time with a girl his age would improve his mood but it was doubtful.
Here goes nothing. Before going to prison getting women was a no brainer. They were a dime a dozen and easy to get. Since his release, it had become more trouble than it was worth. Most wanted just a brief walk on the dark side without any further contact. For the most part that hadn’t been an issue but when they treated him like he was lower than scum on their pretty shoes, that was a different story.
The closer he got, the more they giggled. “Hi.” He stopped by the table.
High pitched voices responded in kind.
Arlo turned his attention to the one who seemed to be the most interested. “What’s your name, beautiful?”
They squealed and he inwardly rolled his eyes. Maybe this was more trouble than it was worth also.
“Marisa.” The blonde one finally spoke up. He recognized the name. She was the daughter of one of the ranking capos and way too young to be on his arm. He’d still give her a turn on the dance floor.
“Pretty name.” He poured it on thick. It was a pretty name and from what he could see of her face, she was also. “Care to dance?”
“I would but…” She stalled and glanced around. “…my father would never approve of me associating with someone of your rank.” Out of nowhere a woman who must be her mother came to their side.
Rank. He cringed from the invisible fist to his gut. Even this young lady thought him beneath her.
“Girls, you need to get back to your table.” The woman glared at him as she filled her glass with punch. “Now,” she barked.
Marisa mouthed a silent apology as she was led away.
So much for being welcomed back to the family after time served. Bastards.
To save face, Arlo grabbed a cup of the fruity red punch and downed it in one gulp. He wrinkled his nose at the overly sweet drink. It was just like the women who’d just left. Too much fluff and not enough kick.
The punch and the girls were the last things he needed in his life right now but the rejection still stung? Heading for the bar, Arlo ordered a whiskey straight. The amber liquid burned going down but it felt good. It was the only company he needed right now. Ordering another one, he took the glass and exited the building.
It was a nice night and the quiet was a welcome reprieve from the music blaring inside. The moon was full, the air crisp, and there was no one around to annoy him. He stretched his back and breathed in the fresh air. Finally, he could breathe again.
He took another sip of the whiskey as he strolled along the stone balcony. The Rinaldi place was a castle, just like all the other mafia homes. A fortress to keep your enemies out and your family in. His shoulders relaxed and he rolled his head. It was a clear night and the stars were out in full force. In prison, inmates hated when the lights went out but he yearned for it. Arlo was protected by the Caponelli name so no one dared mess with him.
The evenings meant peace and not having to listen to the orders of the guards or the whining of the other convicts. Inhaling the moist Lake Michigan air again, he raised his chin and closed his eyes. Peace and fucking quiet.
A footstep on the concrete shattered the silence like a sledgehammer through glass. Arlo reached for his gun but came up empty. He wasn’t alone after all.
Chapter Two
“I’ll dance with you.” The female voice caused him to loosen his fist.
Arlo turned to see a girl smoking in the shadows. The red embers of her cigarette glowed in the darkness. “Who the fuck are you?” He squinted in the moonlight. “Get out here where I can see you.” He was gruff but it was the first time all night he’d had a moment to himself. She’d also taken him by surprise, which was never a good thing. Had the whiskey dulled his senses or was he getting careless? If a lone girl could sneak up on him, what damage could a trained assassin do?
The girl stepped into the light and he stilled. She wore no mask and he had to remind himself to breathe. Long dark hair, ivory-colored skin, and ripe full lips just made for kissing. What a beauty! Unfortunately, she appeared too young for him but in a few years, the young lady would be a knock out. Youthful curves were accented by her tightly fitted dress and unless she had very high heels on under that skirt, the girl had long legs as well.
“Does it really matter?” Her rose-colored lips pouted.
“Yes, so either speak up or get lost.”
“I can be here if I want, just as much as you can, maybe even more. So maybe you’re the one that should get lost.” Her pert nose rose a little in the air.
“Well, you’re just going to have to deal with it because I came out to get some air.” The girl wasn’t a threat so he returned his focus to the opposite direction. He turned and rested his elbows on the top bar of the balcony railing. “Go find some other guy to dance with you.” Arlo hoped she’d take the hint and leave.
Soon the scent of her perfume floated in the air. It was spicy and hot, like cinnamon and red hots. “Not my scene either. But I saw how they treated you so thought I’d ask anyway.” She wandered near.
Arlo brushed it off but he sure didn’t need a reminder from her. “Dancing is a waste of time.”
Her fingers wrapped around his forearm. “I can think of a better way to pass some time.”
He smirked and peeled her digits from his arm. Just the brief touch of her warm skin sent a tingle down his thighs. That wasn’t good. Maybe he did need to get out more if the mere touch of a girl’s hand did crazy things to his stomach. Arlo gave her a quick glance from her head to her toes. “How old are you?” She was fourteen at the most. “Does your mother know where you are?”
“I’m sixteen and my mother is dead.” Her big brown eyes drew him in before she turned her gaze toward Lake Michigan.
“Sorry about your mom.” Arlo straightened. He’d lost his mother at an early age as well. It sucked and was probably even a worse experience for a girl.
She shrugged her shoulders. “Life’s a bitch sometimes.”
“You got that right.” Arlo glanced down at her before gazing off into the distance again. He was over six feet but she was only a few inches shorter. She was also long and lean, as one would expect a trained dancer or athlete to be.
“What’s your name, Sugar?” Who was this girl anyway? Her lack of mother explained the lack of supervision but there was probably a father back in the room that would kill anyone who touched his little girl. At least he hoped so. The thought of her being without a protector didn’t sit well in his gut.
“Sugar?” She glanced up at him and her smile melted his heart. Just a little but it softened just the same. “Does that mean you’re sweet on me?”
“I like sweets but one bite of you might be the death of me.” His knuckles tightened on the railing in front of him. “Cut the BS, princess. Who are you and who’s your father? I don’t want to deal with some jackass going batshit crazy on me because I’m alone with his daughter. I have enough problems to deal with.”
The young woman rolled her eyes. “I don’t need a protector and as soon as I tell you my name, you’ll run to the hills. Just like everyone else.” This time her lower lip trembled and he couldn’t help but want to take up arms against anyone who would dare say an unkind word to her. There was something about the young lady that spoke to him. Struck a chord in him. Like she wasn’t judging him or his time spent in jail. Like she was on the outside looking in, just like he was. “Why don’t you leave if you’re so afraid of being seen with me?”
Him, afraid to be seen with her? That was a first. “I never said that. I’m not going anywhere and I’m not afraid of anything.”
“That’s why I followed you out.” She smiled up at him and the brightness of it matched the stars up in the dark sky. “I know who you are.”
“And who am I, little girl?” He tensed as he waited to hear the words, convict or ex-con.
Her eyes narrowed at his words. “Someday you won’t see me as li
ttle.” It was a challenge and he had to respect her bravery.
“I do now, so spill it.” The cat and mouse game had gone on long enough.
“I know you’re Arlo Brunetti and you just got out of prison for taking a fall for the Caponelli family.” She placed a hand on his chest. “You were the brave one, not those other cowards inside.”
Her comment shocked the hell out of him. No one was supposed to know he’d taken responsibility for a crime he hadn’t committed. “And you’re not afraid of being alone with me?”
She didn’t seem to be since the young lady knew who he was. It was a nice change to not have others look down on him when he’d fallen on the sword for so many.
“No, you’re a protector. A hero. You sacrificed yourself for the family. There is no truer soul than that.” Turning around, she leaned her back against the railing. “They should be celebrating you and offering their daughters to you on a platter.”
He was shocked to hear say these things. “And why would they do that? A girl’s virtue is something to be honored and kept until marriage.” It may not be in the modern world, but in the mob it was. An age-old double standard that wouldn’t be changed anytime soon. Men could have many mistresses and brag about it, while if a woman stepped out of line, the consequences where never pretty and frowned on heavily.
“That is so barbaric. I’ll probably be sent off to some arranged marriage, intended to be some peace offering in a turf war. Do you think that is worth saving my virtue for?”
She had him there. He wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Again, the husband of an arrangement such as that could take advantage of the many prostitutes in the whorehouses that some of the families maintained. The Caponellis never worked in the sex trade but he knew the Rinaldis did.
“Well, do you?” her soft voice rang louder.
“No, but that doesn’t mean you should put yourself at risk. There are bad people out there. Enemies of the family, whatever the hell family you’re from. They would think nothing of taking you and making you pay the price for the sins of your father.”