The Leone Crime Family Box Set

by B. B. Hamel

  He sighed into the receiver. “I’m up.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Some of us sleep,” he said.

  “Yeah, well, you’re a made man. Sleep when you’re—”

  “What do you want, Dante?”

  I grinned and looked down the street. The sun was coming up over the Philly rowhomes and I saw a few people starting to head to work. A guy in a suit moved past me with a backpack on, only letting his eyes drift over me for a moment. I was wearing my own suit, black jacket and black pants with my white shirt tucked in. It was my uniform, and I liked to always play the part.

  Besides, the jacket covered the bulge of my gun, tucked into its holster at the center of my back.

  “Need you to send Vlas’s people a message for me,” I said.

  “Really?” He sounded a little more awake now.

  “Really. Reach out and check in. See if they got our little apology present. See what they say.”

  “Huh.” He was quiet for a moment.

  “You think that’s a bad idea?”

  “It’s just not like you,” he said. “The idea of showing a little extra respect seems like it’d be foreign.”

  “It is,” I snapped. “Sergio told me to do it, so I’m doing it. Now you gonna obey your Capo or what?”

  “Sure thing, boss,” he said with a laugh. “Should’ve known that was Sergio.”

  I sighed and rubbed my cheek. “Get your ass to the bakery in an hour,” I grunted. “And wake up the others. I want double guys on the streets today. I got a bad fucking feeling.”

  “I will,” Steven said, tone serious again.

  “Good.” I hung up then slipped my phone back into my pocket. My eyes moved down the street, past the trees growing from their dirt patches on the edge of the sidewalk, and gazed up at the sky. It was pink and blue, a pretty little sunrise.

  But a bloody, bloody omen.

  The smell of sizzling garlic made me smile. No matter what, the smell of cooking garlic somehow made the day seem like it wasn’t so bad, even if nothing seemed to go right.

  I moved the garlic around in the heavy cast iron Dutch oven then added some onions. I turned down the heat and let it soften up before adding two cans of whole tomatoes. I put in a dash of wine, some salt and pepper, and let that cook down for a while. I opened my refrigerator and took a bottle of beer from the back, cracked it open, and took a long drink.

  “Damn, boss,” Gino said as he poked his head into the room from the hallway. “Shit smells good.”

  “I know,” I grunted. “You done for the day?”

  “Yeah, heading home.”

  “All right. If you hang around for a little longer, you can have some.”

  He grinned. “Nah. I appreciate that. But I got a date.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Don’t get her pregnant, you stupid fuck.”

  “I never do.” Gino laughed. “Later, boss. I’ll be back early tomorrow.”

  “Good.” He slipped out of the room and I heard the front door shut behind him. I lingered in the kitchen for a moment, frowning at my living room. It was empty, the couch hadn’t been touched, the TV was cold. I thought she would’ve come downstairs at some point, but now it was going on day two of her locking herself away, and I was starting to get worried.

  I knew she wouldn’t warm up to me. I didn’t expect her to. I killed her father in front of her, wrapped the guy’s body in plastic, and gave him to some asshole scumbag Russian mobster. There was no reason in the world for her to ever forgive me for something like that.

  But she clearly understood it. I could see it in her eyes when we talked that first morning. She understood what her father was and why I did what I did, and that was all I needed from her. Maybe I wouldn’t get forgiveness, but at least I could get understanding.

  Still, she couldn’t mope around in that fucking room forever.

  I took the apron I was wearing to protect my clean white shirt and draped it over a stool as I walked around the island. I headed back down the hallway, past the paintings I’d gotten at thrift stores when I first bought this place a few years back just to have some shit on the walls. My place looked haphazard, thrown together, and a little dusty, mostly because I didn’t spent much time out there. Mt. Airy was outside of the city, and if I was going to be a Capo, I needed to be in town at all times in case shit went down.

  But it was good to have a second house somewhere outside of the danger zone, somewhere safe and secret.

  I moved up the steps, making as much noise as I could. I walked down the hall, stopped outside her door, and knocked.

  “Fuck off,” she called.

  I grinned. “Open up,” I said.

  “No.”

  “You’re done lying around in bed,” I said. “Open the door.”

  “Go away.”

  “I’m going to open it whether you want me to or not.”

  “I said, go—”

  I leaned my body against the door, turned the knob, and pushed it open. I was a little surprised to find it unlocked, and I stumbled a little as it swung inward.

  “— away.” She frowned at me and tilted her head.

  I stood and stared at her for a moment. She was sitting on the bed wearing that same tank top, but wasn’t wearing any pants. She had on a pair of black panties, her legs crossed in front of her, her phone hanging loose in her hands. She glared at me.

  “Get dressed,” I said, grinning. “Or don’t, that’d be more fun.”

  “What do you want?” she snapped.

  “I’m cooking dinner. Fresh pasta sauce. Come downstairs.”

  “No,” she said. “You can bring me some if you want.”

  “You’re not lying in bed this whole time,” I said.

  “Then let me go out for a walk.”

  I laughed and shook my head. “You don’t get it, do you? It’s not safe out there.”

  “Right. So I can leave my room and play nice with you, or what? You’ll beat me up?”

  I stared at her and laughed again. “I’m not going to hurt you, little Aida,” I said. “Come downstairs and have dinner with me.”

  “No.” She crossed her arms.

  “Fine.” I walked back into the hallway then glanced over my shoulder. “But I brought some clean clothes for you.”

  She frowned at me and seemed to relax. “Really?”

  “Really. Come downstairs, eat dinner with me, and you can have them.”

  “You manipulative bastard.”

  I shrugged and walked away smiling. That’d work, I knew it would. Even if she was fine with lying around in bed for days on end, she’d have to want to shower and get dressed in something clean eventually. I had one of my guys break into her apartment and pack a couple bags of her stuff. It was a small risk, but worth it.

  I headed back into the kitchen and glanced at the two black duffel bags lying in the corner of the living room. I stirred my sauce, tasted it, and nodded to myself. I took some sausage from the refrigerator and began to take off the casing. Just as I finished and washed my hands, I heard the steps creak, and Aida stepped into the room.

  She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at me. Her hair was pulled back into a messy bun and there were bags under her eyes, but her breasts were pressed up and her full lips pouted at me like they begged to be kissed.

  “Wine?” I asked.

  She opened her mouth like she wanted to give me some wise-ass response, then shut it again and sat down. “Please.”

  I nodded, took a bottle from the cabinet, and opened it. I poured two glasses then downed my beer and put the bottle in the recycling. She picked her glass up and sipped it.

  “Good?” I asked.

  She nodded, a little surprised look on her face. “Really good. What is this?”

  “Friend of mine in California makes it,” I said. “He sent me a few choice bottles as a gift for my birthday last year.”

  “Oh? How old are you?”

  I laughed. “I’m t
hirty-two. And you’re twenty-three.”

  “Did some digging on me.” She frowned and sipped the wine again. “This really is good.”

  I heated up another pan, added some oil, then began to cook the sausage as the sauce continued to simmer. “Gino said you haven’t left your room yet,” I said.

  She looked away. “Haven’t felt like it.”

  “Listen, the house is all yours. I don’t live here most of the time.”

  “But you do,” she said. “I mean, live here sometimes.”

  “You hiding from me?”

  “I am,” she said.

  I turned away and moved the sausage around. I didn’t want her to see my face. “You don’t have to.”

  “Where are my clothes?” she asked.

  I turned and nodded at the bags in the corner. “Ryan broke in. Sorry about the locks.”

  She said nothing as she opened one of the bags and let out a groan of pleasure. She picked out a pair of shorts, a new t-shirt, and some underwear. She stared at it for a long moment then looked at me. “Thanks,” she said.

  I nodded. “Toothbrush and toothpaste and your other toiletries are in the other bag. He grabbed a Kindle and a laptop too, plus their chargers.”

  She brightened. “Really? My Kindle?”

  “Guess you’re a reader.” I shuffled the food again and began to take it out of the pan as it finished, putting it on a paper towel to drain. “Never got into it myself. I’m more of a movie guy.”

  “Let me guess. You love The Godfather?”

  I shrugged. “I’m a simple man, I guess.”

  She laughed a little and the sound made me smile.

  “Look, I’m getting changed. And that, uh… that smells good. So I’ll eat dinner with you. But that’s it, okay? Don’t get any… ideas.”

  I turned to her and tilted my head. “You mean, don’t think I’m going to get you drunk and fuck you tonight?”

  She blushed and I knew that was exactly what she was thinking. “Just, no ideas.” She hurried out of the room and I heard her go back upstairs. The shower started a couple minutes later.

  I grinned, put on my apron, and finished cooking. By the time she came back down twenty minutes later, the sauce was nearly done, the pasta was cooked, and the sausage was finishing in the sauce.

  I grabbed some plates and put together two servings. She looked good with wet hair. Her skin glowed a little bit, and she seemed like she was smiling a little earlier. She wore a tight white t-shirt and short gray cotton shorts that just barely covered her thick, gorgeous ass. I brought the meal over to the table and gestured.

  “There you go,” I said. “That’s a real ass Italian home-cooked meal.”

  “I have to admit, I didn’t think a guy like you would, you know, cook.”

  I shrugged. “Mom taught me. She did a lot of cooking back when I was a kid. It always calms me down after a shitty day.”

  She sat down and took a bite. I watched the pleasure flit across her face. I could tell she was surprised it was good. I grinned a little, sipped my wine, and sat down, stretching out my legs.

  “Shitty day?” she asked. “What happened?”

  I waved her off. “Nothing worth talking about.”

  “Come on. Does it have to do with that Russian guy, what’s his name? Vlad?”

  “Vlas,” I corrected. “And it might.”

  “Then tell me. Whatever happens with him matters to me, remember?”

  I grunted. She had a point, although I didn’t love the idea of telling her my business. Still, she seemed bright, and she was right. Whatever happened with Vlas was going to affect her life one way or the other.

  “I sent him a message this morning,” I said. “Reached out about the peace offering I sent.”

  She stiffened. “Meaning my father’s corpse and the money he stole.”

  “Correct.” I tilted my head and didn’t react to her bait. “But apparently, one of his boys told my lieutenant to fuck off. Do you know what it means when someone tells my lieutenant to fuck off?”

  She shook her head. “I’m guessing it’s not good.”

  “No, Aida. It’s not good at all.”

  “Shit. So what’s going to happen?”

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “But we’re not taking any precautions.”

  “So I guess you’re really not going to let me out to go on some long walks around the neighborhood.”

  I stared at her for a long moment, my eyes drinking in her pretty lips and small button nose. “This is a safe place,” I said. “But I don’t know exactly how safe. It’s better if you stay in and don’t risk it.”

  “Yeah, I hear you. Easy to say though. You’re not the one being held prisoner.”

  I gestured at the door. “You’re not a prisoner.”

  She let out a breath and shook her head. “I know. I know. I’m not… I’m not being kind.”

  I leaned toward her. “I don’t expect kindness from you,” I said, my voice soft. “But at least be fair.”

  “Right.” She clenched her jaw. “Look, this is hard for me, okay? I had a life before all this. I had… I thought I had a future.”

  “You still do,” I said. “But for now, you’re mine to keep safe. And I’m not about to let you fall into Vlas’s hands.”

  She stabbed her pasta and nodded. “Yeah, right. I’m all yours.”

  I watched her for a moment, sipped my wine, then ate in silence for a few minutes. I could tell she was angry by the way she stabbed the pasta and sausage like she was pretending it was my face, but I didn’t push her. After a little bit, she looked up, her expression softened a bit.

  “Tell me something,” she said.

  “Go ahead. I’m an open book.”

  She snorted but kept going. “How many times have you done this little move?”

  I cock my head. “What move?”

  “The whole dinner thing. Wearing the apron, sleeves rolled up, all that? I’m not going to lie, it’s sexy as hell, but it’s such a move.”

  I laughed a little and watched her carefully. “You think I’m sexy.”

  “I mean—”

  “You really do,” I said as she blushed and sipped her wine. “It’s fine, I think you’re absolutely gorgeous. I wasn’t kidding when I told you what I want from you.”

  “I get it,” she said, her cheeks crimson. “But you’re not answering my question.”

  “I’ve never once cooked for another woman,” I said.

  She laughed. “Liar.”

  “I’m not lying,” I said and leaned toward her. “Do you really think I’m the kind of man to cook a girl dinner?”

  She frowned at me for a moment. “You’re not, are you?” she whispered.

  I smirked and shrugged. “No. I’m really not. You’re the first.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Because I already told you. You’re all mine right now.” I let that sink in before sitting back. “Besides, you needed it. Nothing like a good home-cooked meal to help bring someone back to the world.”

  She glared at me. “I don’t need your help.”

  “I know,” I said. “But I’m helping anyway.”

  She took a few more bites, downed her wine, then pushed back from the table. “Thanks for the clothes and the food,” she said. She stood up and stared at me as I leaned back in my chair. “Are you staying here tonight?”

  “I am,” I confirmed.

  “Okay. Well. My door’s going to be locked. So… knock if you want something.”

  I laughed softly and shook my head. “Little Aida… if I wanted to come into your room without your permission, do you really think a lock’s going to stop me?”

  She bit her lip and stared at me before turning away. “Good night,” she said.

  “Good night, little Aida.”

  She walked away, and my eyes stared at her ass the whole time.

  I let her go without a word and sighed before looking at my plate. I was only half finished, but a
lone again with my thoughts.

  And my fucking worries.

  I felt the world beginning to spiral. But I wasn’t lying to Aida. I’ve really never cooked for a woman before, and only did it now because I thought it would help her. And because I wanted to take her.

  She was a delicious, perfect little distraction.

  But with her sequestered back up in her room, I was left with dirty dishes and worries to keep me company.

  So I finished my wine, filled up another glass, and got busy cleaning up.

  4

  Aida

  Three days passed, and the only thing that kept me sane was my Kindle.

  Dante visited me once, only briefly, in the afternoon of the second day. I think he was checking up on me, making sure that I was staying home and staying safe. He poked his head in my room, smiled at me sprawled on the bed, and laughed. “You look like you’re having fun,” he said.

  “Too much fun,” I grumbled right back.

  That was it. He left a few minutes later and I didn’t see him again. He left one of his young soldiers in charge of me, a guy named Gino that didn’t talk much. He had a scar on his lip and bright eyes, but he was skinny and almost a little shy. He always had a gun on him, although he didn’t show it off. I could see its lump in the waistband of his jeans, always there, always tucked away and ready for him.

  I didn’t bother trying to talk to him. I suspected Dante ordered him to keep silent anyway, just based on the way he tiptoed around me like I was some kind of caged beast.

  On the third day, I woke up early, took a shower, and went downstairs for coffee. Normally, Gino got the coffee set up for me and left at least half a pot in there. But that morning, I found the coffee maker was empty and the house was silent.

  I snuck back upstairs and hesitated outside of the room I knew Gino was sleeping in. I pressed my ear against the door and smiled when I heard him snoring.

  I couldn’t help myself. Another chance like this wasn’t going to come around anytime soon, so I crept into my room, pulled my sneakers on, dragged a hooded sweatshirt on even though it was too warm to wear it, and headed back downstairs. I was out into the early morning sunlight a few seconds later.

  Dante’s house was perched up at the top of a hill with a long concrete staircase heading down to the sidewalk. I held onto the black railing, wondering how many times his hands had touched the same spot, as I hurried down and hit the sidewalk with a grin.