Beautiful Thief (Omertà Law #2)

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Beautiful Thief (Omertà Law #2) Page 4

by M. N. Forgy


  I love my brother, but hate him for leaving me to deal with this shit. We had a good thing going. He was the underboss and I was… well, whatever he needed. We worked good together. He knew me, is why, and I trusted him. I can’t help but wonder if I should betray our father and follow Kieran over to the other side, against our father and everyone we ever knew.

  Something uneasy settles in my stomach thinking about that kind of betrayal. I don’t have it in me to do that, at least not yet. The night is still young.

  Who knows where my head will be at after this so-called meeting with our father.

  I chose to take a cab after the few drinks I had, so I pay my fee and get out. He drives off and I button the coat and look the strip club over. The lights of the club are bright with a LED tail blinking as if it’s waving back and forth, the name of the place lit up in blue letters underneath it.

  Exhaling sharply, I head under the blue canopy where the doors are opened for me, I’m instantly greeted with the pounding bass of pop music, and a confusing smell of perfume and men’s cologne.

  “Mr. DeAngelo.” A man nods his head at me, but I don’t recognize him. Father must have brought in new people after Kieran and Matteo left. A dancer trips over her heels, slamming down onto her face. I drop to her side and press my hand to the small of her back. Her skin is clammy and cold. She’s on the thinner side and has a snake tattoo wrapping around her hip. With all the dancing lights, I can’t see much more of her.

  “Are you okay?” I ask her. Now on all fours, her blonde pigtails colored blue and pink, she looks up at me with a surprised look. As if she’s shocked that someone actually cares about her well-being and not if she will give them a discount.

  Taking her by the hand, I help her to her feet.

  “Go to the back and take those heels off, they’re too much,” I tell her, not caring what the rules of the place are.

  “Thank you,” she says with a light smile, her creamy ass cheeks swaying as she walks away.

  “That was nice of you, man. Most of the men that come in here are savages.”

  I turn, finding the bouncer looking at me with a easygoing look and it occurs to me I did do something nice. Running the hand over the back of my neck, I try not to think too much about it. She fell, I helped. Wouldn’t anyone?

  He slides a dark blue velvet curtain to the side, letting only me pass through. I give him a courteous nod and he drops the curtain back into place. Father and my uncles Tony, Leo, and Gio are all sitting around a poker table with a plume of cigar smoke above their heads. This is where everything goes down, where FEDS have had their own killed and tortured to get within earshot of these men and here I am as if someone pulled back the curtain of the magical Oz getting to see first-hand what goes down amidst New York. Father did have these secret meetings on a yacht that was passed down through the family, but Kieran burned that to a crisp. I feel the urge to smile thinking about it.

  “Romeo, there you are!” my father greets excitedly, and my brows furrow. He used to do the exact same thing to Kieran, never me. I’m simply a replacement of my older brother and I don’t just think it, I know it.

  “Father,” I reply in greeting, his bowler shirt hideous as ever, and the light above revealing his thinning hair. Unbuttoning my jacket, I take a seat in a black velvet chair and try not to think about what devious sex acts have been done in it.

  “You son of a bitch!” Gio laughs, a cigar hanging out of his mouth as he points to my dad who is scraping all the chips to his chest from across the table, ashes falling onto his suit. He chuckles, completely amused that he won. Again. Kieran always beats him in poker, so I know he’s not that good, in fact, I’m pretty sure my uncles just let him win.

  Father sits back in his chair, a woman with a black silk see-through robe comes from behind the curtain, her blonde hair sitting on top of her head in a pile of delicious curls. Without saying a word she fills my uncles’ cups with a decanter of whiskey, her eyes cast down while she pours.

  “You want something? Anything?” Father points his chubby finger at me, acting as if I’m his VIP. “Georgia here will get it for you,” he continues before looking up at the tall beauty. “This is my son,” he informs her, and her eyes cast my way.

  “He looks like you,” she says softly, and I lift my right eyebrow. It’s apparent my father has everyone wrapped around his finger, but not out of respect; it’s out of fear.

  “I’m good,” I reply callously, ready for whatever my father has to say, to be said.

  She says something to my dad that has him laughing under his breath, before she leaves the room. I’m sure he’s fucking her, but as a man in his crew, it’s my job to look my mother in the eye and assume otherwise.

  “Have you talked to Kieran?” he finally asks before taking a sip of his drink.

  I don’t reply, it’s none of his business and if I know my father, which I do, any answer I give him won’t be the right one. “Well, I just assume you don’t. He’s a liar, betrayed his own blood, and cannot be trusted. He is the enemy, and dead to me as far as I’m concerned.” His tone of voice holding a sharpness that reminds me of only a sword. One that has been through fire and flames of treachery and is glowing the color orange. I bite my tongue, keeping from reminding my father that he tried to have him and Leona killed. I’m not surprised Kieran fought back with a power so bold that even I can’t follow his footsteps.

  Sitting forward, I rest my elbows on my knees and rub my palms together anxiously.

  “Why am I here?”

  “You want the kid to take the position, don’t ya?” Gio asks, and my father’s eyes squint as he sizes me up. I don’t know what he thinks he’s going to see, he knows who I am, knows my weaknesses and strengths better than anyone. My eyes slip to Gio, his pink tie strikingly bright against his Armani suit, but he looks good compared to the rest of these chuckleheads. He wouldn’t have asked my father that if they hadn’t already talked about me taking the position. Father is fucking with me. Making me out to be lesser of a man than others that are up for the job.

  “I don’t know,” he mumbles, rubbing his chin. Grinding my teeth, I fight the annoyance biting at my tongue. I can’t help but curse fucking Kieran leaving me behind to deal with this shit. Nice, he had me come to this shithole just so he could tell me he’s unsure of my placement in his world. He could have saved me the cab fee and told me that over the phone.

  “Power isn’t just handed to someone, it’s something that is earned through years of loyalty and hardships. I don’t expect you to hand me the title of underboss simply because I’m your son, nor do I want it.” I stand, buttoning my jacket. “I seek more. I may have my dark moments but I want a throne where kindness isn’t a weakness which is not in the mafia. I show respect even if people don’t deserve it, and this shouldn’t make you question my character, if anything… it’s a reflection of the man you are.”

  He stands, slamming his fist on the table. Chips scatter, cards falling to the floor.

  “You do not talk to me that way!” he roars, and I tilt my head to the side at his tantrum. “I’ve killed men for saying lesser to me.”

  “Right, you’re the devil, I know. Thing is… the Devil used to be an angel. I was never an angel. I’m worse.” Lifting my brow at him in a sense of challenge, I turn to walk away, leaving Oz the powerful great speechless.

  “Wait, we need him!” Gio proclaims.

  “What if…” My father hesitates, I can hear the struggle in his voice as he sits in his chair.

  “A test.”

  I turn, intrigued.

  “Mr. Ludwig, who owns the liquor store on the west side, he came to us about an hour ago. He wants a loan to put his daughter through vet school.” He shrugs, looking at my uncles before back at me.

  “Do we give him the loan? If we do, at what percentage do we charge him before it’s paid off? Or do we take something as collateral?”

  “Yeah, like his Camaro.” Tony laughs. Ludwig has a slick 19
67 Chevrolet Camaro. Gorgeous sky blue with black stripes.

  His daughter is a couple years younger than me, never actually spoke to her, but she seems nice. The Ludwigs almost had to close their store a couple times, their credit is shit and they can’t get a loan to save their life, let alone put a kid through college. The old man just can’t catch a break.

  “You give him the loan, and when she graduates, you help her get her own practice and write us scripts for controlled prescriptions.”

  My dad’s eyes light up like eyes of the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland, my uncle Tony’s mouth dropping in awe.

  “If she doesn’t follow through with her ambitions, or the deal, then we whack the old man.” I crack my neck, awaiting my father’s grading of this so-called test. This way we don’t have to worry about our men who are going to doctors for shit, or us paying out of pocket for drugs. Mr. Ludwig will have to have a lot of faith in his daughter to go through with her graduating, and the deal afterward. His life is and will be on the line, so he better have a lot of faith in his daughter.

  Silence falls over the room, my uncles looking to my father.

  He nods, looking at the poker table.

  “I’ll be damned,” he mutters before looking back up at me. “That’s fucking brilliant. Just brilliant,” he praises, and something weird settles in my stomach. Like butterflies, or a fuzzy feeling you get on Christmas morning. I don’t like that I enjoy his approval.

  “You’re better than Kieran.” He points at me, but I don’t say anything. My brother would probably have a better plan, if not the same one. He taught me the trade of living the life on the other side of the tracks. You either learn to walk them, or get killed trying.

  “I have a new guy that will help you with whatever you need. His name is Rip,” Dad informs as he puts the chips and cards back into their place on the table.

  “Be here Thursday, at eight. I have a potential client coming through and I want you there, with that big brain of yours.” He looks up under his lashes, a maniacal look if any. My uncles might be impressed with my idea, but looking into my father’s eyes, he’s pissed I outsmarted him in front of his goons.

  “Yeah. I’ll be here,” I inform dryly and leave the room before he can say another word. The smell of strippers’ perfume and smoke hit me like a brick wall, the beat of the music almost as loud as the pulse in my neck before I step outside and let out a breath I had been holding the entire time inside the other room.

  Leaning against the brick wall that makes up the side of the building, I try to catch my breath and my sense of reality. I don’t want this, why did I do that? I should have said something else and failed his test. But I couldn’t, it’s as if something deep inside of me wanted to show him what I’m capable of and what he’s been overlooking all these years.

  Now, I have the power to do whatever the fuck I want, and all I can say is New York is not safe in any way. Especially if all I desire is to show everyone what I’m capable of. I want to wreak havoc as much as I want to offer peace. There’s a fine line there and I want to find it.

  Will I show mercy for women and children? The so-called respect I say I have, will it stay rooted in my soul when a man is groveling at my feet for one more day to pay his debt?

  I’m afraid I shall not spare even a second more thinking about my character as long as my acts of solidity please a man I’ve been trying to my whole life.

  A man gets out of a cab with a buddy, both of them laughing as they head inside, I slip into the back seat and tell the driver my address. Am I a good guy, or a bad guy? The notion teeters on my soul like a man on the bouts of sinning.

  This is why I didn’t want this position. I’m too back and forth and in the world of mafia.. everything is final.

  3

  Romeo

  In the back of the cab, I rock back and forth as we make our way back to my place, everything my father wants of me, and expects raining through my head like a bad storm. I know the rules of the game when running organized crime, there’s no room for weakness. Like my father and my grandfather, they’ve become ruthless, menacing men, not using their power for the greater good in any way. I can’t help but think with that much respect and hierarchy, why not try to help where you can? I don’t know. Maybe it’s just the therapist’s words echoing in my head. Running my hands over my face, the lemony smell of the cab gives me a headache. I can’t help but wonder if Kieran knows anything about the meeting on Thursday. Slipping my phone out of my pocket, I shoot him a text.

  Are you at your place, or Leona’s?

  Mine

  Slipping my phone back in my pocket, I lean forward.

  “Change of plans,” I tell the driver and have him go to Kieran’s apartment. As soon as we pull up to the curb, the headlights shine across the steps to the front of his place, revealing him sitting on them.

  I give the guy a fifty.

  “Keep the change,” I mutter, slipping out of the ripped up back seat. The fresh air of the night taking the ache in my temples to a tolerable pain.

  He drives off, and my eyes meet Kieran’s. He’s sprawled out on the steps of his place, looking like a father’s worst nightmare with all his tattoos. I’m surprised he’s not in a suit, he’s always wearing the most top of the line shit.

  “I figured you’d pop up,” he says with a slight grin. His hair disheveled, chest baring his tattoos of cheesy mafia quotes and tribal ink. Making my way to him, I sit next to him on the steps and pull out my cigarettes, lighting one. It’s funny if you think about it. Father always offered Kieran a smoke after doing something shady, but I was the one who picked it up.

  “So, what brings you here?” Kieran asks with a bored tone, rubbing his palms together. He’s wearing sweats, I haven’t seen him in something so casual in a while.

  “Father wants me to take your place,” I tell him, and for the first time a heavy awkwardness sets place atop my shoulders. I guess I never really thought that taking Kieran’s place might make him angry, or even feel the need to be my enemy rather than my brother.

  “I figured he would,” he informs with a sharp inhale. “Is that what you want?” I can feel him look at me, but I keep my eyes focused forward into the dark. Random cars passing by giving a glimpse of brief lighting before the dark consumes my distant vision.

  “I dunno. I think so,” I mutter, looking down at my hands. I really don’t know what I want anymore. I didn’t think I wanted the job, but when I was in that room tonight, something inside of me wanted to show our father I was more than capable of the position. That he’s underestimated me all these years but I don’t think I could be under his scrutinizing thumb overall. “It’s not like I can say no even if I wanted to,” I continue grimly. We were born into this, we are either beside our father or against him. I wouldn’t be surprised if I reject the offer if he comes off as pissed but is really grateful on the inside because it gives him a reason to come after me. Sometimes I swear I’m adopted.

  “There’re ways,” Kieran says smugly. I silently laugh, glancing at him momentarily. “I think you just want to rebel, start a war and be the last one standing,” I state, and Kieran shrugs, knowing I’m right. He’s always pushed the rules and stood ready and bound to fight to the core of anyone who dared tried to question his reasoning. To be honest, it’s something I admire about him. I want to push the limit, but I’m scared of myself. If I let myself go to that level, will I be able to reel myself back in? I might be worse than our father, who knows.

  “Dad has me going with him to meet a potential client Thursday, know anything about it?” I finally ask, not wanting to think about my mental illness a second longer. I want to know ahead of time so I can prepare myself, show up ready and knowledgeable on whatever deal we are about to make.

  Kieran shakes his head.

  “No, he didn’t say anything to me about it. Must be new.”

  “I think it is.”

  He reaches for my cigarette and I give it to him, he ta
kes a large inhale and gives it back.

  “How is everything going with Leona?”

  He exhales and runs his hand through his hair.

  “She’s coming along. I’m teaching her new trades in the game, things to look for in our men, things like that. I don’t like her cousin Dominic,” he informs flatly.

  “Do you think she has the balls to be the head of such a savage operation?” I can’t help but ask. I’ve never heard of a woman running things, ever.

  “I don’t know. I’ve mentioned a few times how we will have to be hard on some of the old dealings her side of things had once run and she agreed, but hesitantly.”

  He’s talking about offing people who used to work for her family, they might owe money or aren’t coming through on their side of things. I can’t imagine a woman being okay with whacking people and burying them in the night, then again Leona is kinda different. She’s strong and unpredictable. She could surprise me.

  “And what if we cross ties, you and I up against each other over a client?”

  Silence blankets us both, neither of us knowing what to say if the matter should happen.

  “I’m trying to avoid that from happening.” He speaks softly, looking down at his hands as he rubs them together again. But even I know that if we both wind up at the same place demanding a product from a buyer, or a job needs to be seen through and we cross paths… we will be enemies. This easy chat on the stairs in the middle of the night long forgotten. An inscrutable expression slides across my face when I think about losing Kieran, we’re close.

  I stand, sighing loudly, and flicking the cigarette I barely smoked to the sidewalk.

  “Death is certain. Life is not,” I mumble.

  “Amen,” Kieran agrees, standing beside me.

  We look at one another, unspoken terms being passed through our pupils saying, “Please stay out of my way.”

  Grabbing my palm, he pulls me in for a hug, patting me on the back.

 

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