The Leone Crime Family Box Set

by B. B. Hamel

  Eric gave me an awkward smile. “See ya, Mona.”

  “Bye, Eric. Stay safe.”

  He hurried to catch up with Steven, his chain bouncing on his chest.

  I spent the next couple hours interviewing as many people as I could. There were no eyewitnesses, but I learned a few interesting little tidbits, and even managed to get a firefighter to go on record. All in all, I had a pretty good story to write up, so I got in my car and drove back to the office.

  My little workspace was just as I left it. Papers were stacked in one corner, a picture of me and Vince hanging on the right side, and my computer monitor right smack in the center. I collapsed into my chair, booted up the machine, and got typing. I lost myself in crafting the story, and the drone of the office around me disappeared, the world nothing more than the words I was typing on the screen.

  “You smell like smoke,” someone said behind me.

  I half turned and saw my boss, Randy, standing with his arms crossed.

  “You sent me to a fire,” I said. “So, that’s what happens.”

  He grunted and waved a hand at me. He was a heavyset man, balding, big mustache, always seemed like he was in a hurry. He wore suspenders without irony and preferred scotch to just about anything else.

  “How’d it go?”

  “Good,” I said. “I’ll have copy on your desk in an hour.”

  “Beautiful.” He lingered and I forced myself to smile.

  “Anything else, boss?” I asked.

  “You’ve been here for a couple years now,” he said, talking slow. “And I haven’t pushed you, right?”

  “Sure,” I said. “Aside from throwing me at every story imaginable and forcing me to get copy on your desk way faster than anyone else, but sure, you haven’t pushed me.”

  He grunted, made a face. “That’s nothing,” he said. “When I was your age—”

  “You were hauling firewood through a burning forest and happy about it,” I said.

  He glared at me. “Look, I just wanted to say, you’re doing a good job. And I think it’s time we gave you a little more freedom.”

  I perked up, surprise rolling through me. “More freedom?”

  “A little raise,” he said. “And a little promotion. I want you to write a column about law enforcement.”

  I stared at him, my mouth hanging open. I’d written more than a few stories about law enforcement in Philadelphia over the years, but getting my own column seemed… well, it was absurd. I was married to a freaking gangster.

  And he wanted me to write a column about cops.

  “I’ll do it,” I said.

  “Of course you will. First one’s due next Tuesday, make it interesting. Five hundred words.”

  “Right, I’m on it.”

  “Good.” He nodded at me once. “I’m looking forward to whatever you come up with.”

  He walked off with a huff.

  I watched him go, shocked and confused and excited all at once.

  As soon as he disappeared into his office, I turned back to my computer, finished the article, emailed it to him, and jumped to my feet. I grabbed my bag and ran out, hurrying down to my car. I got in, drove through the city, giddy and feeling stupid. I glided down Don Leone’s block and parked at the very end, but instead of going into the mansion, I crossed to the houses opposite and walked up my very own stoop.

  I unlocked my front door and stepped inside.

  It looked a lot like Vince’s house did, back before it got blown up. Modern furniture, hardwood floors, gleaming appliances in the kitchen. We bought it the week after my article on the Leone Crime Family was published in the Inquirer, spent a few months renovating, and lived there ever since.

  I threw my bag down, kicked my shoes off, and ran to the basement door. I jumped down the steps two at a time and found Vince sitting at the bench press, sweat dripping down his skin, earbuds in his ears. He looked up, surprised to see me, and took them out.

  “Hey, kid,” he said. “What are you doing home?”

  “Vince,” I said, breathless. “Something crazy happened, there was a fire, and I saw Eric and Steven, then I wrote the article and called Steven Karl and Randy came and he gave me this crazy promotion and my own column and—”

  “Slow down,” he said, standing up. “Did I hear promotion in there? And your own column?”

  “It’s about law enforcement,” I said. “Randy wants the first installment in a few days.”

  He barked a laugh and ran to me. I didn’t care that he was sweaty. He swooped me up and hugged me hard, kissing me, before putting me down.

  “Law enforcement!” he said, laughing again. “The mobster’s bride writing about cops.”

  “I know, it’s insane,” I said. “Your dad’s going to love it.”

  “I’m sure he will.” Vince put his hand on my belly then kissed me. “We’ll have to celebrate, you know.”

  “How about we just stay in tonight?” I asked. “I have drinks with Colleen later. You can have dinner ready for me when I get home.”

  “That works for me,” he said.

  “And Steven wants you to go to the bakery tomorrow. I think they want to talk to you about stolen Jalisco drugs.”

  Vince rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I heard about that. Fucking Jalisco won’t just roll over and die.” He kissed me one more time, lingering for a while, lips on mine.

  And I couldn’t believe this was my life.

  I got my dream job, my dream column. I got my dream man.

  And soon we’d have our baby, our family just beginning to grow. I never wanted this part to end, this perfect little chapter in our lives. Vince was gathering his own crew together, gaining some power on his own in the city, positioning himself to take over the family.

  Things were looking right, so right.

  “I love you,” I said.

  “I love you too,” he said.

  “But you’re sweaty. And now I have to get changed.”

  He let me go, grinning. “You love it,” he said.

  “I know.” I eyed his body and whistled. “What a hunk.”

  “Get out of here,” he said. “I’ll think up a good dinner for you tonight.”

  “I really do love you, you know?”

  “I know,” he said. “Now go get changed. I bet Colleen would love to move drinks up if you want.”

  “Good thinking,” I said and walked to the stairs.

  I watched him get back to working out for a second, thinking how far I’d come, and how happy I felt.

  Then I headed upstairs with a stupid, giddy smile on my face.

  Read more steamy mafia romance! The Volkov Crime Family story begins with Bend For Him. Bend for me, little bird. When I execute Robin Volkov’s cousin, she’s next on the chopping block. But she’s too beautiful and valuable to kill. So I go against my crew and save her life. Now she owes me everything. >> Click Here to start reading!

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  Protected by the Monster

  1

  Luca

  I leaned back in the uncomfortable metal and wood chair, an espresso cooling on the table in front of me, the weight of my Glock pressing up against my spine, and watched as Steven leaned toward the old woman sitting across from him.

  “Mrs. Davidson,” he said, his voice low, his eyes hard as steel. “I’ll do what I can.”

  That was my Capo, Steven Bianco. His face was serious, but beneath that calm exterior, I knew there was a killer lurking like a hungry tiger.

  I’d seen it myself on more than one occasion. I learned everything I know from him, learned how to make my heart like ice, how to close down my mind as I took a man’s life, how to move fast and quiet and hit hard before anyone could even start to think about how to defend themselves.

  After two years of intermittent war, first with the Irish and then with the Jalisco Cartel, I’d learned the importance of keeping calm under pressure.


  “Thank you, oh, thank you,” Mrs. Davidson said. “You’re incredible.”

  “Your cat, Bootsy, is the most important thing in the world to me,” Steven said, and I swear she believed him.

  “Thank you.” Mrs. Davidson pushed back from the table, her hands shaking, her poof of white hair blowing in the air-conditioned draft. “I knew I could count on you.”

  Steven got up and helped Mrs. Davidson to the door. He shot me a look on the way and I grinned back, loving every second of his annoyed discomfort.

  I sipped the espresso in front of me and pushed away the laughter that threatened to spill out. Steven taught me that no matter what, no matter how small a task or unimportant a job might seem, I had to take it seriously. I had to step up and do whatever it took to see it through until the end.

  So even though Mrs. Davidson just asked one of the Leone Crime Family’s most important Capos to find her lost cat, I had to keep a straight fucking face.

  “She’s nice as hell, but I swear, I’m going to strangle the cat if I find it,” Steven said, sitting down across from me.

  I held up my hands, palms out, and smirked at him. “Come on, brother. You’re really going to kill that nice old lady’s cat just because she’s annoying?”

  “Fine,” he said. “I’m going to kill that cat’s whole family. Just to send a message.”

  “What’s the message?”

  His eyes stared into mine. “Cats better not fuck with me.”

  I groaned, rolled my eyes. “You’re so full of shit,” I said. “I know you love cats. I saw you feed a stray a couple weeks back.”

  “Don’t mistake charity for weakness,” Steven said.

  I laughed and waved him off, looking around the room to see if anyone heard that exchange. Fortunately for him, nobody did. The bakery was mostly empty, just Sergio’s bored nephew behind the counter swiping at TikTok on his phone and a hipster guy with a shaggy beard and a ratty ponytail jabbing at his MacBook in the far corner table opposite our own.

  The bakery was one of those new industrial-chic type places with a mix of wood and metal. I never really got that whole vibe, but Starbucks made it popular, so every other coffee place followed suit, I guess. I never took Sergio to be the kind of guy to follow trends, but the bakery’s been pretty profitable, so it must work.

  The fresh smell of bread wafted out from the back as Sergio came out wearing a white shirt and a white apron. His dark salt-and-pepper hair was pushed back, and his dark eyes were rimmed with red and baggy underneath, probably because he got up at ungodly hours to bake every day.

  He refilled the bread baskets that sat against the wall behind the glass display case. Even if I didn’t agree with the decor in this place, Sergio knew his bread and pastries, and the place smelled like heaven.

  “Check this out,” Steven said, his eyes on the front windows.

  I turned to follow his gaze and saw a black SUV parked out front. The driver got out, a bald guy with dark sunglasses, and opened the back door.

  “Is that Roberto?” I asked, nodding at the bald guy.

  “Seems like it,” Steven said. “And that’s the fucking Don.”

  I leaned forward, unable to hide my surprise, as Don Leone stepped out from the back of the car. Roberto helped him down, let the Don get his cane out and on firm ground, then helped the old man to the door.

  Steven stood and walked over as Don Leone entered the bakery. I stood up at attention, not sure what the hell was going on.

  Don Leone did not come to the bakery, not on some random Tuesday in the middle of the afternoon.

  “Steven,” Don Leone said. “How wonderful to see you.”

  “Don,” Steven said, bowing his head in respect. “It’s a pleasure. What brings you down here? Should I go get Sergio from the back?”

  “No need,” Don Leone said as his eyes swept over to me. Roberto lingered just behind the Don, looking like he wanted to beat the crap out of the furniture. “I’m here to see your lieutenant.”

  “Luca?” Steven asked.

  “The one and only.” Don Leone took a step toward me. “How are you doing, Luca?”

  “Very well, Don,” I said, bowing my head. “What can I do for you, sir?”

  “Come out from behind that table and let me look at you.”

  I did as instructed and presented myself to the Don. My heart beat fast and sweat pooled under my arms.

  Don Leone looked like a kind old Italian grandfather. His hair was getting whiter with age, and there were more lines around his eyes and mouth than I remembered from the last time I saw him nearly two years ago. He had olive skin, blue eyes, wore a comfortable sweater vest over a tucked-in white shirt and a pair of khaki slacks. His cane was a simple black with a silver handle at the top. He looked like any other old man in any Italian neighborhood in South Philly, which Luca kind of assumed was the point.

  But Don Leone was a shark.

  The man was a true player. He built the Leone Crime Family himself through years of brutal warfare and aggressive recruitment. He established one of the most robust and formidable mafias in the entire United States, and he did it almost entirely on his own.

  He looked harmless and he scared the shit out of me.

  And I’d been shot at. More than once.

  I’d rather get shot at again than get stared down by Don Leone.

  “I hear you’ve been busy,” Don Leone said.

  “How so, sir?” I asked.

  “The Jalisco.”

  I suppressed my grimace. “They’ve been, uh, just a little problem,” I said.

  Don Leone laughed like a kindly old grandfather.

  “Oh, I think they’ve been more than a little problem,” he said. “We thought we squashed them, but two years later they’re already making waves.”

  “We’ve been knocking them down faster than they can rebuild,” I said. “I think in a few more weeks, we’ll clear them out of the city for good.”

  “Perhaps,” Don Leone said, bobbing his head up and down. “Perhaps that’s true. And I hear that has a lot to do with you and Steven.”

  “And your son,” I said. “He’s been a big help.”

  “Of course,” Don Leone said, gesturing dismissively. “But I hear you’ve killed… how many now?”

  I glanced at Steven, just an instant, as my heart leapt in my chest. We weren’t supposed to talk about body counts, not with anyone outside of the crew, but this was Don Leone. Steven gave me the slightest nod.

  “Twenty-three,” I said. “That I know of, at least.”

  “Very impressive,” Don Leone said. “You’ve turned into quite the enforcer.”

  I bowed my head again. “Thank you, Don,” I said.

  “I have a job for you,” he said, his voice going flat and serious. “It’s going to seem like a small job, perhaps it’ll feel beneath you. But it’s an important job.”

  “Anything for the family,” I said.

  “Steven, would you mind if I borrowed him for a time?” Don Leone asked.

  “Of course, Don,” Steven said. “Whatever you need.”

  “Good.” Don Leone turned. “Come with us then, Luca. I think you’re going to like her.”

  I frowned as Don Leone walked to the door. Roberto opened it for him, helped the Don out. I looked at Steven and he just shook his head.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Better go.”

  “I’ll fill you in later,” I said, and followed after the Don.

  He got into the back and Roberto gestured at the passenger side seat. I got up front as Roberto got behind the wheel, and we slid back out into the Philadelphia traffic, gliding down the narrow one-way streets, past red-bricked rowhomes, torn-up sidewalks broken for construction, past gnarled trees growing along too-small plots, past people walking fast, people walking slow, people laughing on their stoops and standing in small groups.

  The living city, always growing, always morphing.

  “What do you know about the Chica
go families, Luca?” Don Leone asked me as the car turned and headed west.

  “Not much,” I said. “I’ve never been there before.”

  “Chicago has a very, very long tradition of crime,” Don Leone said. “When I began as a young man, I thought about going out there. But I decided I’d rather be a big fish in a small pond, and so here I am.”

  “Now you’re a whale,” I said.

  Don Leone gave me a small, tight smile as I looked at him in the rearview mirror.

  “I don’t suppose you know who Fazio Pinto is,” Don Leone said.

  “I don’t, sir.”

  “No,” Don Leone said, turning to look out the window. “Of course not. Fazio was an important underboss in the Riva Family. He spent many years as the underboss, many, many years, nearly as many years as I’ve been head of the Leone Family. And do you know who his sister married?”

  “No, Don,” I said.

  “His sister Annabella married my brother Emilio.”

  “Oh,” Luca said, though the name didn’t mean anything to him.

  “He passed years ago,” Don Leone said. “Well before your time. When he was killed, Annabella turned her back on the family and vowed to keep my brother’s daughter away from us, perhaps from grief, perhaps from anger. They stayed in the city, and I’ve kept my eye on them over the years, but they kept their distance, and Annabella kept her vow.”

  “That must be… difficult,” I said, staring through the windshield. I saw Roberto give me a flat glare out of the corner of my eye.

  “It was,” Don Leone said. “But life continues. I respected Annabella’s wishes, kept my distance, and only made sure that my business didn’t cause them trouble. Truth is, I hadn’t thought about them much over the years, until three days ago, when Fazio died and left his fortune to Annabella’s daughter.”

  I coughed and cleared my throat. “Your niece, sir?” I asked. “Why would he do that? Were they close?”

  “I don’t know,” Don Leone said. “I don’t know if they were even aware of each other, or if they were as close as a niece could be with an uncle involved in violent crime, although I very much suspect they didn’t speak. If Annabella didn’t want anything to do with our family, I would guess she also didn’t want to be involved with them.”