Straightened Out (The Pastore Crime Family Book 1)

by Janine Infante Bosco

  “No, that’s not what I’m saying.”

  I draw my brows together.

  “So, you’re not breaking up with me?”

  “No, Bug, I’m telling you I hope they don’t accept the offer.” Releasing my hand, he turns and touches his palms to my face. “I’m saying I’m a selfish son of a bitch because I don’t care how messy life is or how messy it’s going to get, I don’t want you in an apartment on the other side of the island. I want you here. I want you right fucking here. Say yes and I give you my word I will do everything in my power to keep you safe.” His thumbs gently caress my cheeks as he leans forward Move in with me, Bug, let’s make this fucking monstrosity a safe place where can go to escape when the world gets too messy. “

  I stare at him blankly, processing the request.

  “You want me to move in with you.”

  “It’s fast I know.”

  Maybe to an outsider but to the twelve-year-old girl who thought Rocco Spinelli hung the moon, it’s been a long time coming. But before I can tell him any of that, the alarm system sounds, alerting us that there is someone at the door. Rocco mutters a curse and drops his hands away from my face. Twisting around he grabs the remote from the nightstand and turns on the massive flatscreen television and livestreams the footage from the security cameras. I follow his gaze and stare up at the screen, watching as two men approach the front door.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Rocco growls. He climbs out of the bed in a flash and grabs a pair of slacks.

  “What’s going on?” I ask, tucking the sheet under my arms as he pulls the pants up his legs. He pulls up the zipper but doesn’t bother with the top button. Bringing his eyes back to me, he replies, “Nothing, this conversation isn’t over. I won’t be long.”

  He moves to my side of the bed and bends his head, pressing his lips to mine. His mouth lingers for a moment before he leans back and tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I murmur softly.

  “I hope not,” he rasps. Then he lowers his hand and turns around. I watch as he disappears through the bedroom door and when he’s completely out of sight, I lean my back against the headboard. I replay the last five minutes in my head and pray that I didn’t imagine any of that. When I lift my head, my eyes find the screen on the wall. The two men fill the frame and I inch forward to get a better look at them. One towers over the other, but I can’t make out their faces. The taller one is huge though—I mean Hulk-like huge, but it’s the shorter man who appears to be wearing a leather vest with patches that controls the punches. He’s the one banging on the door. Another man emerges from the truck parked on the circular driveway and he rushes to the Hulk’s side. The big beast of a man sways and the third man who oddly enough is wearing sunglasses in the middle of the night holds him upright.

  Curious, I push the covers off my body and throw my legs over the edge of the bed. Spotting one of Rocco’s shirts, I slip my arms through the sleeves. Buttoning it up, I pad out of the bedroom and make my way down the grand staircase. I pause halfway and take a seat on one of the steps as Rocco comes into my view and I watch him forcefully open the door.

  “What can I do for you, Parrish?” Rocco asks.

  “Rough night, boss?” The man on the other side of the door taunts.

  I don’t make out Rocco’s response or what the other guy says after that, but Rocco suddenly straightens. His shoulders square and his hold on the door tightens.

  “What challenge might that be?”

  “The one I’m about to deliver you,” Parrish sneers. He takes a step closer and I finally get a view of his weathered face. The other guy might be bigger in size, but this man is one scary son of a bitch. I mean if looks could kill, I’d be burying Rocco.

  “Vic put you in charge for a reason, Spinelli. More importantly, he sent you to my doorstep for one purpose and that purpose is suddenly clear to me. Vic knew the consequences of his actions, that’s why he made Bianci bring you to my club. It’s why he asked me to stand with you and not against you. This city, my fucking city, is about to become a warzone. You want a place on my streets, you’re gonna have to earn it and do as I say. Your job is to protect Vic’s family, not his organization.”

  I force a swallow and move down another step to listen better.

  “Nothing else exists for you except Vic’s wife and his daughters. Forget making scores or climbing the ranks—”

  “You want to tell me what the fuck is going,” Rocco interrupts. “Because I get the feeling you know something, I don’t.”

  “You just do as your told unless I tell you otherwise,” Parrish warns. “You want to be a boss then you need to learn what comes first in this world. You need to know without heart you got nothing, and your family is your fucking heart. You keep them safe, Spinelli. You keep them breathing or so help me God, I’ll rip you from these streets and send you back to Miami with your tail between your legs. Welcome to my city, Spinelli, if you’re a good boy, I’ll share it with you.”

  I hold my breath and wait for Rocco to argue with this guy. To put him in a headlock like he did with the Paulie Walnuts lookalike, but he remains silent and freakishly calm. Parrish doesn’t say anything either and soon, Rocco closes the door. He leans his head against it, and I contemplate whether or not I should make myself scarce before he discovers I was eavesdropping.

  I take too long, though. He pushes off the door and turns around, his eyes instantly connect with mine.

  “I wasn’t eavesdropping,” I lie.

  Totally seeing past the bullshit, he raises an eyebrow and crosses his arms against his chest.

  “No?”

  “Okay, so maybe I was,” I admit, worrying my lower lip between my teeth.

  In my defense, no one said anything about eavesdropping. Don’t ask questions—that’s all I got, and for the most part I haven’t asked one, even though it’s kind of killing me. Like, come on, what the fuck just happened? Who is that Parrish guy and why did Rocco just stand there while he ripped him apart?

  “Violet,” he sighs. Pausing, he shakes his head and uncrosses his arms. “What the fuck am I going to do with you?”

  I release my lip.

  “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” I say, diverting my eyes away from him. “Are you going to retract everything you said before my nosey ass came down here and listened in on your conversation?”

  “You mean the part where I asked you to move in with me?”

  I nod.

  “I probably should,” he says as he starts for the stairs. “But you heard the man.”

  My brows knit together with confusion. Yes, I heard him, but I’m not really sure how anything he said pertains to me moving in with Rocco.

  Keeping his eyes locked with mine, he starts to climb the stairs that separate us, coming to a stop right in front of me. He reaches out and fingers the button of the shirt. It pops free and he slides his hand inside the shirt, circling my breast. A moan sounds from the back of my throat as he closes his hand around it and gently rolls his thumb over my nipple.

  “A man’s got nothing if he doesn’t have heart.”

  And just like that, my heart grows ten times in size.

  Chapter 27

  Rocco Spinelli

  Violet finally fell asleep around two o’clock in the morning, but not me. I couldn’t fucking sleep if my life depended on it. So, I took myself downstairs, poured myself a drink and drove myself crazy trying to figure out what the fuck I was supposed to do next. Playing house with Violet was a nice distraction, but between Rienzi revealing Uncle Vic was being transferred to another federal prison and Parrish eluding to a war brewing, I needed to up my game.

  I just didn’t know how.

  You see, I was at a disadvantage.

  I had a bunch of posers in my circle, people waiting on bated breath for me to fail. The only person I trust is miles away in the sunshine state and when he gets word that I’m not only in a relationship with his sis
ter but also moving at warp speed and moving her into my house—well, I’m sure he’ll have some choice words for me. Of course that’s assuming he doesn’t kill me first.

  Christ, what a fucking mess.

  The buzzer sounds, interrupting my thoughts and I slowly lift my head. My gaze shoots toward the door and the instant my eyes lock with my uncle’s, my throat tightens. The man is a fucking enigma. Only he can wear an orange jumpsuit and pearly white canvas sneakers and still look as dapper as if was wearing one of the three-thousand-dollar suits that hangs in his closet. It should also be noted that the man looks as healthy as a horse. I mean, if I didn’t know him, I surely wouldn’t think he’s dying.

  Hell, he looks better than me.

  The man may be refusing treatment and the cancer might be making a war zone out of his insides, but on the outside—it’s business as usual. I guess that’s what happens when a man still some fight in him and driven by a great force. I’m no fan of Jack Parrish, but he said something that resonated with me when he showed up on my doorstep. It was that whole sermon about heart and how you’re nothing without—it struck a chord.

  Real men have heart.

  They have people they love.

  People they trust.

  People they will gladly sacrifice and die for.

  Family.

  Everything Uncle Vic has done has been to protect his wife, Grace, and their daughters Adrianna, and Nikki. It’s admirable to say the least and if I live long enough to see this shit through, I hope to become half the man he is.

  Power is nice, but it’s not everything.

  “Well, if it isn’t my favorite nephew,” Uncle Vic greets as he approaches the table.

  Drawing out a breath, I round the table to pay respect to the man who has upended my life.

  “You look good,” I tell him.

  “You’re a shit liar,” he retorts, tipping his chin to the seat on the other side of the table. “Sit.” Nice to see prison hasn’t changed Uncle Vic—he still has the ability to see right through me. On the contrary, though, I for one think I’ve become an expert liar and I have good ‘ol Uncle Vic to thank for my newfound talent.

  “Still can’t manage to wear a fucking tie, can you?”

  Flashing him a grin, I shrug my shoulders.

  “It’s in the car.”

  “It belongs around your fucking neck,” he growls, shaking his head in disgust. The cocky grin fades from my face as I stare at him. This is the last time we’re going to see one another and here he is, breaking my balls.

  “Oh, c’mon, Uncle Vic,” I complain. “Did you just summon me here to bust my chops?”

  His lips form a thin line as he continues to silently scrutinize me. A couple of seconds pass before he sighs and crosses his arms against his chest.

  Here we go.

  This is the part where he reminds me I wasn’t a choice, only a last resort. An underserving heir to a kingdom.

  “You might not be wearing a tie, but you still look the part, Rocco.” He cocks his head to the side. “That makes me proud.”

  Shocked, I lift my chin and stare at him. You never know how much you need to hear something, until the words find your ears and you feel a sense of relief wash over you. For a long time I told myself I wanted to clean up my reputation, that I wanted to step away from the gloom lurking over me because I shared the same name as my old man, but really the only thing I ever truly wanted was to make this man proud. He’s a hard ass, that’s for sure, but when everyone else in my life turned their backs on me, he stuck. He might be my uncle on a family tree, but in my heart he’s the father I got cheated out of having raise me and fuck…I’m going to miss him.

  With everything going on—all the nonstop changes—all the fucking lies, I haven’t really given myself a chance to process the fact he’s dying and I sure as fuck didn’t really give much thought to the fact this is the last time I’ll ever see him. He’s being transferred to North Carolina, to a prison where he will die alone.

  No one there to hold his hand.

  No one there to cry when he takes his breath.

  Emotion clogs my throat and I force a swallow.

  “This is it, huh?” I say hoarsely.

  The fucking end of an era.

  “You’re going to be fine,” he assures me.

  Recalling the words he uttered when he first unleashed this plan of his, I scoff.

  I want you to understand something, dear nephew… you are not a choice, you’re my last fucking resort. You are what happens when a dying man loves his children more than anything in this fucking world. You are what happens when a powerful man sacrifices everything he’s built so long after he’s gone, his daughters can live happily and without fearing the consequences of their father’s lifestyle.

  “You don’t really believe that,” I argue, smoothing a hand over my face. To be fair, neither do I. Sure, I’ve been able to successfully shut down every play made on his territory thus far, but that’s been a matter of sheer luck, not skill.

  Only time will tell if I’m the motherfucker pushing drug dealers off the streets and keeping them safe enough so kids can play outside until the streetlights go on. Once he’s transferred, I’ll officially take my place as the boss and then we’ll see if I can be the man who keeps Uncle Vic’s wife in her million-dollar house and his son-in-law out of harms way. We’ll know if I had guts and determination to keep the legacy alive.

  Or if I continued to wing it.

  Uncle Vic folds his arms on top of the table and fixes me with a look.

  “I think you know me well enough to know I don’t sugarcoat anything, Rocco. You haven’t gotten yourself yet and that says something, especially since you don’t have Joaquin to fall back on.” He pauses to let out a sigh. “But it’s time for you to call him.”

  My back straightens at the mention of Joaquin, but before I can question what that means, he supplies the information.

  “I don’t know how much longer I have, and things aren’t going to fair well for me after the transfer.” He glances over his shoulder and looks at the guards before bringing his eyes back to me. “I got something planned, something big, and the repercussions have the power to be catastrophic.”

  “Then why do whatever it is you’re planning on doing?”

  “Because it has to be done.”

  He goes on to tell me how the transfer has been staged by him, that he has exhausted all of his connections to get moved to a penitentiary down south—away from his family and conveniently where the number one enemy is incarcerated, killing two birds with one stone. Grace and the girls don’t have to watch him deteriorate and he can go out like the bull he is, performing one last hit.

  “Once word gets out that I’m gone, things are going to get rough for you and you’re going to need to build your own crew,” he adds, pausing to cock his head. He studies me pensively. “The sooner you get Joaquin, the safer you will be.” He scratches the side of his face. “Rienzi tells me you’ve been spending a lot of time with the sister.”

  I narrow my eyes at the mention of Violet. There are so many things about that last sentence that irk the shit out of me starting with the fact Rienzi is running his fucking mouth to my uncle.

  “Are things serious between the two of you or—”

  I cut him off.

  “Serious enough that I asked her to move in with me.”

  His eyebrows lift and a look of shock wears on his face.

  “That’s quite the jump from the man who had a different girl for every night of the week while he was in Miami.”

  I shrug my shoulders.

  “What can I say? I’m a changed man, besides she had some issues at home that needed to be addressed. My first instinct was to put her up in her own place, but she’s at the house all the time and it just feels right.”

  “Does Joaquin know?”

  “I think he suspects something, but I haven’t come clean with him.”

  “You can’t afford any prob
lems with him right now,” Uncle Vic warns as he leans closer. “As much as I like the girl and think she might be a good fit for you, if Joaquin pushes a choice on you, you’re going to have to cut her loose.”

  I open my mouth to tell argue, to tell him the only way I’m cutting Violet from my life is if she isn’t safe, but he holds up a hand to silence me.

  “In the meantime, you’re going to want to put a guard on her at all times. Same goes for your sister. Have you cleared the air with her yet or are you waiting for her to a catch a bullet before you do that?”

  Christ.

  “Way to guilt a man,” I hiss.

  “I don’t know how many times you have to be told. You still got love for your sister whether you want to admit it or not. Keep her close. If not for me, then for your mother.” He pauses to make the sign of the cross. “God rest her soul.”

  I bend my head and silently make the sign of the cross too. Forget rolling in her grave, my mother would fucking haunt me if I ever let anything happen to Gina. My eyes cut back to Uncle Vic’s.

  “I plan on going to pay her a visit when I get out of here.”

  “Good, that’s good,” he praises, drumming his fingers against the table.

  “If we’re done discussing all the woman in my life, maybe we can move to the part where you tell me what the fuck is going on. I don’t like being kept in the dark.”

  I wait for him to lecture me on my outburst, but to my surprise he gets right to business—a sure sign that our time is truly up.

  The first matter we discuss is the hit he’s orchestrating once he’s officially transferred and what it means for me on the streets. He wasn’t kidding about putting men in place to protect but Violet and Gina. He’s expecting a blood bath.

  He also advices me to get rid of Rienzi which surprises me, but according to him, Rienzi can’t be trusted. As soon as Joaquin’s plane hits the tarmac, Rienzi is gone. It’s just a matter of who pulls the trigger.

  When I get my chance to talk, I bring him up to speed on everything that’s gone down since we last spoke. I tell him how I checked in on his wife and how Anthony hates my guts for taking a job he feels should’ve gone to him. We cover the docks and the longstanding relationship the Pastore family has with the Longshoremen’s Association. Lastly. we discuss is the Satan’s Knights motorcycle club. Of all the fucking surprises my uncle has thrown at me, his devotion to the leather clad hooligans definitely takes the cake. I don’t know what the fuck is so special about Jack Parrish and his club. He’s a fucking lunatic for one, and he has made it perfectly clear that he wants absolutely nothing to do with me. But the devil worshipping nutcase is all aces in Uncle Vic’s book. It’s almost comical, they’re complete opposites and yet you can tell each man has respect and admiration for the other. I, on the other hand, think Jack is a dick and I can’t wait for the day I don’t have to deal with him, but I made a promise to my uncle and so long as he’s breathing I’ll play nice with Parrish.