Take Me Higher: (A Chicago Mafia Syndicate) (Castaletta Book 1)

by Ali Parker

  "Oh yeah?" I lifted an eyebrow and reached for it again.

  "Stop it." He swatted at me and moved back, rubbing his lip and giving me a dark look that promised retribution. "I'll tell Demetri you love him."

  "He knows." I shrugged and turned to watch Demetri pop Freddy in the back of the head. "How could I not love him? He takes care of Daddy and runs our operation with an intensity that says he's all in."

  "You love him because he's a good-looking man."

  "And he has a fat cock." I shrugged and popped my brother in the chest as he turned and stuck his finger in this mouth, gagging himself. "Come on. Let's get Dad home."

  "Yes. And don't ever say another word to me about Demetri. I won’t be able to look at him the same."

  "Are you jealous of his assets?" I glanced behind me as my brother rolled his eyes.

  "Not in a million years. A tool that is often used is far better than a bejeweled one that never sees the light of day."

  I didn't grant him a response. Besides, he was enjoying himself far too much judging by his low snickers.

  "Where's Freddy?" My father asked as he held the door to the car open for us.

  I shrugged and climbed into the back seat of the Buick stretch limo first and slid over, making room for Marco.

  He reached over and helped me work my shoulders out of my heavy winter coat as Father climbed in and sat across from us.

  "He's with D. They're stopping by the store and then coming to the house. Freddy needs a break from everything, you know?" Marco spoke, pulling on his seatbelt and looking over at me, his eyebrow going up.

  I rolled my eyes and pulled on my seatbelt as well, grumbling about the uselessness of them. Being strapped in a metal box while it rolled around was the most unethical decision made by the government. I'd have forgone mine, but my father would have given me hell over it.

  "Freddy always seems to need a break. When is that damned boy going to grow up?" Dad's face was worn and ragged from emotion as he dragged his hand down the front of it.

  "Hey, Dad, lay off of him today, all right? It's just going to cause a lot of drama you don't want if you start pushing him around and shit." Marco slid his hands down his thighs to cup his knees.

  "Pushing him around? Someone needs to push him around. Did you see him today? I wonder if we're making any money off the drug ring or if your damned brother is smoking away the profits."

  "I'm sure D will take care of it. He's a hard-ass, and I know he realized that Freddy was high... again." I added in my two cents, not really caring if Freddy was high or if D realized it. My mother was dead, and things would never be the same. Her murder had forever changed our lives, etching pain and sadness across us like a heavy wet blanket. The momentary break for a short laugh with Marco moments before was gone, and reality set back in.

  "Ehhh, enough of that." My father sighed and slumped down in his seat, his hand coming up to rub his eyes as Marco reached over and took my hand.

  "I can't believe this shit is happening, or really happened," Marco mumbled.

  Dad looked up, the emotion on his once-handsome face breaking my heart. "What are we going to do?"

  "We're going to find the bastards that did this and make them and everyone they love pay, Papa," Marco spoke softly, his hand squeezing mine as the air seemed to grow impossibly thick around us.

  I nodded my agreement as my father's eyes shifted toward me. "We'll figure this out, Dad. It's going to take a little bit of time, but one thing is for sure, we need someone on the police force who can help us understand what they know."

  "Well one thing’s for damn sure. They aren't going to give us information if we just ask for it, even if it was my wife that died. Armstrong made it seem easy, but you and I know that we need a rat on the force. His son would be perfect."

  "Then we plant a rat. How hard can it be?" Marco dropped my hand and crossed his arms over his chest as the car pulled onto the freeway.

  "Harder than you think," I whispered and looked out the other window. The city was busy for a rainy midday afternoon. Our lives had changed substantially over the last few days, and yet the world continued to spin, people living their blissfully ignorant existences and seemingly unaware of the evil that lurked just outside their windows.

  I couldn't help but wonder if Mother had gone to Heaven, or if there even was a Heaven. We'd gone to the Catholic church a few times, Mama making us on special holidays and services, but she herself went all the time. Every Sunday without fail.

  "You think Mama's in Heaven?" I whispered without realizing that I'd spoken it aloud.

  "Of course she is. I don't know a more devout woman to God and family than your mama, Izzy." My father spoke before moving toward us and nudging me to move over.

  He slipped in beside me and sandwiched me between himself and Marco. I couldn't help but find comfort in the contact.

  My dad wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer. "It's going to be hard to move past all of this, and we'll never forget the beauty and love that was your mother, but we will make it — together, like we always do."

  Marco turned and nodded. "Dad's right. We will find these bastards, avenge Mama’s death and reign hell across this city like they've never seen before."

  I leaned back and listened to the conversation as it continued between my father and eldest brother. I wanted to be at the center of it all and knew that both my brothers and my father would support me in doing just that.

  "I need to kill someone," I mumbled.

  Dad laughed, and Marco shook his head, looking back out the window.

  "That's my girl. I have just the fellow. He owes me two million dollars, and he's disappeared."

  "I'm not in the mood to chase my prey."

  "Well, good, because he'll be at the Moonlight Bar tonight at eleven, so don't chase him; just kill him."

  I sat up and gave my dad my full attention. "How did you get the tip that he'd be there?"

  My father smiled and almost looked like himself again. "Because... Under a pseudonym I invited him. He'll be there for sure."

  Chapter 4

  Demetri

  "You're just joking around, right?" Freddy asked, reaching up to change the heat settings on the dashboard.

  I slapped his hand back and looked over at him sternly.

  "Don't touch the car. Sit your ass in it, but that's it." I reached up and turned the heater back on. "You need to learn respect. You're not a kid anymore, and you're still acting like one. I have no idea why Joe thought it would be a good idea to have you as a capo of anything."

  "He didn't; my mother forced him to move me up." Freddy grumbled, crossing his arms across his chest, his greasy black hair doing nothing for his thinned-out appearance.

  "Why would Vivian want you to run the drug cartel? You have an addiction, and it's getting rather obvious on more than the physical front that you're smoking up the fucking profit margin, Freddy."

  The young greaser shrugged, his dark eyes glossy as he stared at me blankly.

  I pulled out of the long line of cars that sat idle in the wet grass beside the house of graves and lifted my hand to wave goodbye to a few familiar faces.

  "I guess she thought that I deserved to be in leadership simply because I'm stamped with the great Castaletta name." His hands came up in a mocking way, and I swatted at him again. "Hey, keep your big-ass gorilla hands to yourself."

  "Stop acting like a child, and I might," I responded before turning on the radio. Elton John's “Bennie and the Jets” blared from the small external speakers.

  Freddy came to life a little as he shrugged his shoulders over and over while bobbing his head back and forth.

  "Is that supposed to be some form of dancing?" I asked, chuckling. I hated the kid from a business sense but considered him a brother even in the worst of times.

  "Hey, I can get my groove on."

  "Not in this car you can't."

  "What the fuck's so special about this car? You get your fir
st and only lay in this car, or what?"

  I caught myself from throwing out a yo’ mama joke. At times Freddy and I had enjoyed moments of under-the-table humor. Now wouldn't be the time, and the slight shift in Freddy's shoulders told me that the younger man was thinking the same thing I was.

  Out of all of the Castaletta kids, Freddy had been Vivian's favorite. He was the wounded duck, the one that would never make something of himself without loads of help and care. He'd flunked out of school his freshman year, pissed off Joe too many times to count and had to be bailed out of jail over and over. Not only was he a difficult child, but his older siblings were brilliant, well respected and had achieved their goals already in life.

  Joe doted on Izzy and spoke highly of Marco to anyone who would listen. Though the two older siblings were granted leadership in the syndicate at a young age, Freddy hadn't been afforded that right — until Vivian had stepped in.

  I remembered it like it was yesterday, the beautiful woman of the house putting her foot down and forcing the fierce Joe Castaletta to bow before her and give Freddy a chance. He promised her that it was a mistake and that he'd be in her face telling her so as soon as he could, but it had been four years, and Freddy had done pretty well — until lately.

  "Tell me what happened."

  "What happened with what? Stop being cryptic and shit. I hate it when you do that." Freddy shook his head as if I were the biggest pain in the ass ever. He didn't answer but instead turned to look out the passenger-side window.

  "What happened with you? Your mama fought hard for you to have this leadership position, and now you're just dicking it away. Why? What changed?" My voice rose in volume, but I made sure to keep my emotions locked down tight. I was pissed at some of the shenanigans that Freddy had been pulling lately, but something sat at the core of the disruption — it always did.

  He shrugged.

  "That's not an answer. You and I can play games and I'll dig into your shit on my own, but I can promise you it will be painful."

  "Is that the only option you're giving me, Dad?"

  "Stop being a bitch. You know the other option. You're a grown man, so sit up and talk to me or I'll figure it out without you, and when I do, you'll be paying me back for my time."

  Freddy sat up and huffed exaggeratedly, reaching for the heat before jerking his hand back. He was learning.

  I smiled, unable to help myself.

  "I don't know what the fuck is up. It would be an easy answer if I did. I'm sick of being in the shadow of my brilliant older brother and sister. Shit gets old." He shrugged.

  "So you create drama simply because you think that will garner you attention?"

  "I don't know what the fuck garner means, but any type of attention is better than none. Mom's the only one that paid me attention or believed in me at all. Now there's like... " He shrugged again and turned back toward the window as if he weren't able to continue his train of thought.

  I was done pushing for the moment, not wanting to see the heavy emotion that sat on him shift into something we would both feel awkward about. I reached out and turned up the heat and the music, letting Freddy fall deep under the cover of one or both.

  *

  "Get out of the car, and don't touch anything," I mumbled and parked on the corner of Fifth and Murphy. Vivian had been found just a few feet in front of us in a darkened alley four days before.

  I got out of the car and glanced around, wondering why the streets were empty. Tugging my long black coat closer, I moved around the car and scowled at Freddy as he opened the door and almost hit me with it.

  "Sorry... sorry." Freddy got out and closed the door, moving beside me and looking around the street behind us. "What are you hoping to find here, D? You don't think the boys in blue can do their jobs, or what?"

  I snorted and ignored the question. No way had the cops taken the time to really assess the scene. Everyone at the station was aware that Joseph Castaletta had his fingers in the wrong pies and yet everyone who crossed them ended up in the river next to Saint Mary's. Too bad they could never lay proof as to who knocked them off. Freddy kept chattering next to me in a way that was annoying, even for him.

  Realization dawned on me. Maybe it was too difficult for him to be with me, seeing that his mother had been brutally raped and most likely murdered in the alley we stood beside.

  "Hey... if this is too much, go get in the car. You don't need to be here with me."

  Freddy hesitated, his eyes a little too wide to pull off a look of ease or comfort. He glanced at the alley and then back at the car.

  I pointed to the car without waiting for an answer. "Go."

  "Yeah, okay, but if you need me... "

  "I won't." I turned and reached into my jacket pocket, pulling out a small flashlight and turning it on. The late afternoon sun was hidden behind dark clouds, leaving the area around me darker than usual. The heavens seemed upset at having to welcome a God-fearing Mafia wife into its gates that morning. "Holy rollers and their religion."

  I walked deep into the alley as the heavy taint of despair sat in the corners where bedding was rolled up and small bags filled with useless trinkets sat. The homeless population had gotten out of control in the city of Chicago, and the police patrols had caused most of the poor bastards to hide in the filth of the Windy City’s alleys, staying out of the public eye. I scowled at the treatment of the poor bastards. Life was a bitch sometimes, and ending up homeless and broke was a huge reward for not treating that bitch as queen.

  Dark eyes peered out at me as my flashlight lit up the far corner ahead. A soft grunt echoed from that same corner, but I ignored it. Instead, I turned toward the lining of black trash cans along the wall to find the chalk outline of Vivian faded but still distinguishable.

  I knelt down and pressed my hand to the cold concrete as the image of someone raping her swept across my vision. I squeezed my eyes tighter, trying to burn the very thought away as my stomach grew sick and my knees weak.

  How someone could hurt a beautiful soul like Vivian was beyond me. The only conclusion we could come to is that it wasn't at all about Vivian, but about hurting Joe and the syndicate.

  We all knew the risk in choosing to live the lives we did, but that didn't make things any easier to swallow when the shit went down.

  Things like that weren't supposed to happen.

  Rico was Vivian's guard and should have been with her, but after talking to him we found out that she'd given him the slip that day. She’d always assumed she could take care of herself and that everyone would be too scared to fuck with Joe, but where there is a large fish in the sea, there will always be a bigger one waiting to swallow him up — or try to.

  The syndicate was a small conglomerate, and a threat to all those who hoped to throw their hat into the crime business. The chances of the murderers being from Chicago were slim. They were most likely from New York or Mexico or even as far as Italy.

  Crime spanned the globe, and with the way technology was moving us rapidly into a digital world, it was just a matter of time before selling dope could be as easy from country to country as it was from neighborhood to neighborhood.

  The rumbling behind me got a little louder as I squatted in the alleyway with my thoughts lost on the future. I wasn't concerned about the homeless man bothering me, or anyone really. I had learned to fight and kill in a way that left me confident, almost to a fault.

  I glanced over my shoulder and lifted my chin as the guy approached. "Whatchu know, old-timer?"

  The older man pointed to the chalk outline on the ground. "I know one thing: that pretty little lady right there didn't deserve to die."

  Chapter 5

  Izabella

  The car pulled up to the mansion, and three large guards dressed in suits rushed to open the doors. I got out, ignoring the extended hand offered to me, and walked toward the front door. Various members of our staff stood in a welcoming line as sadness spilled across the entryway of our large home.

>   Marco mumbled something behind me, but the sound was lost to numbness, the devastation before me washing away my resolve to be strong. Too many of these people had helped Mama raise me, Marco and Freddy. The staff was to stay at the house during the ceremony, as my father wasn't comfortable with putting anyone else at risk.

  I moved past everyone, stopping in front of Gerald as he moved forward to pull me into a shaky hug. He was the oldest butler on staff, and was like a grandfather to all of us. His body was frail, age having taken far too much from him, and yet his spirit burned bright. He brushed the back of my head as I pressed my teeth into my lip to keep from crying.

  It would be a flood when it all came crashing down, and I wasn't ready to relent and allow it to occur. My small crying fit earlier that day in front of Demetri should have been more than enough.

  I squeezed Gerald tightly as we stood there, neither of us saying anything.

  Marco moved up beside us and patted Gerald on the arm as I released the older man and moved back before turning to walk into the house.

  Tears blurred my vision, and my throat burned with what had become a familiar feeling. I'd barely hit the first step to ascend the stairs when my father called from just behind me.

  "I need you in my office at five tonight to talk about Parker."

  I glanced over my shoulder and forced myself not to let a tear fall. "Who's Parker?"

  "The man you're going to kill for me tonight. It will make you feel better."

  "No one would believe me if I repeated the conversations between you two. Complete depravity," Marco joked and walked through the large hallway away from us.

  I scoffed at my brother and nodded. "I'll be there. I just need an hour or so to myself."

  "I know, baby. I love you." My dad turned as my heart contracted painfully in my chest.

  Never in all of my life had I seen my father's eyes so lifeless, heard the deadpan response of his voice so empty. He was filled with piss and vinegar, and my mother often warned him to stop living so much in every moment and save something for the future.