The Leone Crime Family Box Set

by B. B. Hamel

  “Hm,” he said. “I believe you.”

  I blinked and stared at him. “You do?”

  “I do,” he said and tilted his head. “You didn’t let me finish.”

  “Finish what?”

  “Talking.” He cleared his throat. “I was sent to kill you. But I decided I’m not going to.”

  I went still. He kept pinning me and didn’t ease up. I thought maybe if I acted like I believed him, then just maybe he’d let me escape. I could run into my room, lock the door, and call the police before he had a chance to break it down.

  If I was lucky.

  “If you’re not going to kill me, what are you doing?”

  “I’m going to warn you,” he said.

  I chewed on my lip hard. My wrists, back, and side ached from getting thrown around.

  “About what?”

  “Even if I don’t kill you, someone else will come,” he said. “Don Leone wants you dead. He thinks killing you will send a message to your father, and the Don’s hasn’t been in a very kind mood lately.”

  A pathetic sob escaped my lips. “Why me?”

  “Because you’re unprotected,” he said. “Because you’re his daughter. Pretty simple, really. Nothing personal.”

  “You can’t,” I said.

  “Like I told you, I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “Why did you take me out on a date last night?” The words tumble from my lips before I can stop them. It’s a stupid question and totally not important to this moment at all, but I can’t help myself.

  We actually had fun.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I thought it would be a good way to get close to you. But then things escalated and I just… I decided I didn’t want to hurt you. I decided that maybe killing you would be fucked up, even more fucked up than the things I normally do.”

  “You’re going to let me go,” I said.

  “I am,” he said. “But first, you need to understand. You’re in danger, Elise. Your father might be able to protect you, if you’re willing to go to him today.”

  “I don’t want to be anywhere near that asshole,” I said.

  “Then I don’t know what to tell you.” He leaned back and released my wrists. He slowly got to his feet and let out a sigh. I stayed on the floor, staring up at him, my body pulsing slowly.

  “Where are you going?” I asked as he walked past me.

  I got up to my knees and steadied myself on the wall. He walked into the bathroom, crouched down in front of the sink cabinet, and reached in toward the back. He pulled out a gun with a long round barrel at the end of it.

  I stumbled back and fell onto my ass.

  He smiled at me, unscrewed the barrel, dropped it into his right front pants pocket. He tucked the gun into his waistband.

  “Someone else like me is going to come here,” he said. “Someone with fewer scruples and a lot less to lose.”

  “What am I going to do?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “I’d go to your father if I were you, but you seem pretty set against it.” He walked past me and into the kitchen.

  I sat in the hallway trying to gather myself. I heard him rummaging around, and when he returned, he had his shirt and jacket on. He looked gorgeous and put together, and he smiled at me as he adjusted his cuffs.

  “Where are you going?” I asked.

  “Home,” he said.

  “What about me?”

  “What about you?” He tilted his head.

  “If you’re not going to kill me, what the hell am I going to do?” I felt myself panicking and knew I wasn’t being rational. I wanted him to stay and help me, but I knew that was just about the most insane response to all this as possible.

  He was a hitman. He was a killer sent to murder me by a crime syndicate.

  The man had no heart.

  Only inky black tattoos on his gorgeous body.

  Artifice instead of real flesh.

  “You’ll figure it out,” he said and walked to my door.

  “Wait.” I felt pathetic, I felt dizzy. “Please.”

  “Good luck,” he said, opened the door, and closed it behind him.

  I sat in the hallway and leaned my head against the wall behind me. I felt a sob escape my lips. I don’t know how long I stayed there, but I cried until I had nothing else left in me.

  Then I dragged my ass into the bathroom and took a long, hot shower, and tried to figure out how I was going to keep myself alive.

  3

  Tanner

  Well, that didn’t go great.

  Wasn’t terrible. Could’ve been worse.

  But it wasn’t great. I mean, I didn’t want to have to throw the girl around. I probably left bruises on her wrists and might’ve given her a minor concussion.

  Couldn’t just let her call the cops or some shit, though.

  At least I got breakfast out of it.

  I drove the Lexus slow through early morning Philly traffic. It was a nice day, not too humid, sun peeking out from behind big fluffy white clouds. I had a big smile on my face and felt pretty damn good.

  I got a nice breakfast, had some fantastic sex, and might’ve saved a pretty girl’s life today.

  All in all, not bad for a merciless bastard such as myself.

  I still wasn’t sure why I spared her. The money was pretty decent, twice my going rate since it was a last-minute request. It would be enough to coast on for at least a few months. I could find a few new girls, fuck their brains out, spoil them rotten, then go take another job and kill a few more stupid shits before starting the whole cycle over again.

  Killing, fucking. I was a force of nature.

  But I kept thinking about Elise as I parked my car out in front of my building and went inside. The doorman tipped his cap and I smiled back.

  “Morning, Herb,” I said.

  “Morning,” he said. “You see the Phillies last night?”

  “Missed it. Had a date.”

  “Oh, shit,” Herb said. He was an older black guy in his fifties, balding, graying, a little heavy. His maroon doorman’s suit didn’t quite fit like it used to. “Can’t say I’m surprised though.”

  “You don’t have to suck up, Herb. You’ll get your bonus.”

  He laughed and sat back down behind his desk as I hit the call button for the elevator.

  “You keep parading those pretty girls through here and I won’t need a bonus.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” I grinned at him as the elevator arrived and he laughed again.

  I stepped on, rode it up. I had a condo on the tenth floor overlooking South Philly. I unlocked my front door, threw my keys in a bowl, put my gun down on a side table, and walked into the living room. Sunlight spilled through the huge windows.

  Hardwood floor, white walls, black and white photography. Modern and sleek furniture. A small balcony overlooked the city outside.

  I turned and opened the refrigerator, grabbed a cold brew, popped it open, then turned on my phone.

  Several texts appeared.

  Dante: You do it yet?

  Dante: We can’t wait, you know.

  Dante: Hey. Asshole. You’re supposed to check in by now.

  Dante: If shit went wrong, you better cover your tracks.

  Dante: Tanner. Call me when you get this.

  I smiled at that last one. The four before it were from the night before, but that last one was this morning. I guessed he slept a bit and calmed down in the meantime.

  I hit the call button and put the phone on speaker. I sipped my cold brew and stared out over the city, at the blocky Philly row homes, broken up by school buildings and high-rises.

  “I’ve been waiting to hear from you,” Dante said, and didn’t sound happy.

  “Morning,” I said. “How was your night?”

  “Cut the shit. Is she dead?”

  “No,” I said.

  Silence from him. I sipped my cold brew. It was bitter but nice.

  “You’re joking,
right? You make stupid jokes sometimes.”

  “No joke,” I said. “I’m not going to kill her.”

  “The Don’s paying you double to make this happen. Do you have any idea how pissed he’s going to be?”

  “I don’t have any money yet,” I said. “No harm, no foul.”

  “You wasted time. You took a job and backed out.”

  “No harm, no foul,” I repeated.

  “This is going to fuck up your reputation,” Dante said. “You’re making a big mistake. I’ll pretend like you didn’t say any of that if you can do the job tonight, but I’m serious, Tanner. No more of your weird shit.”

  “Dante,” I said, and spoke really slow, like I was talking to a child, “I’m not going to kill the girl.”

  Silence again.

  Dante cursed.

  “If you don’t do this then we’re sending someone else,” he said. “Is that what you want? One of your rivals to pick up your work?”

  “Not really,” I said, swirling the cold brew. “But what else can I do?”

  “Kill her.”

  “Not happening.”

  “You asshole,” Dante said, sounding exasperated. “What the hell happened last night?”

  I tilted my head. “Maybe she doesn’t need to die,” I said. “Maybe we can just beat her up a little. You know. Break her legs. Send a message.”

  “Are you joking now?”

  “Nope,” I said. “She’s not involved with her father. Says she doesn’t talk to him.”

  Dante was quiet. “You talked to her?” he asked.

  “Took her out to dinner.”

  “What the fuck?”

  “I know,” I said. “Sick, even by my standards, but it sort of just happened. We matched on a dating website and the situation just sort of fell into my lap. Couldn’t help myself.”

  “You could have, you know, just not taken her out.”

  “Figured it would be a good way to get close.”

  “But you were seen with her.” Dante let out a string of curses. “You could’ve been identified.”

  “Maybe,” I said. “But I took her to one of your places.”

  “You fucking bastard.”

  “I figured that would be safe.”

  “So, what, you’re in love with her now?”

  I considered that. I’d never been in love before and didn’t really know what it would feel like. I didn’t think that was it, though.

  “No,” I said. “In lust, maybe.”

  “Holy shit. You fucked her.”

  “I did,” I said. “You would’ve too, if you were me.”

  “No, Tanner. I would’ve killed her, because that’s what my boss wants.”

  “He’s not my boss,” I said. “Private contractor. Remember?”

  “This is fucking insane,” Dante said. “Okay, fuck it. You won’t do it then I’ll send someone else.”

  “Come on,” I said. “Spare the girl’s life.”

  “Just because you’re pussy-whipped? No thanks.”

  “Dante,” I said, feeling a strange surge in my chest. “I’m asking for a favor here. I’ve done some hard jobs for you and your boss over the years. I’ve taken a lot of shit for you all, killed more than a few very aggressive and very dangerous assholes. My hands are very, very dirty.”

  “You don’t get favors,” Dante said. “Independent contractor, remember?”

  “Leave the girl alone,” I said.

  “We’re not going to,” Dante said. “And this conversation is over now.”

  “Dante—”

  He hung up.

  I jabbed my finger at my phone and sent it skittering onto the floor. I clenched my jaw and threw back the rest of my cold brew. I walked over to the sliding door and threw it open. Wind tugged at the edges of my jacket as I stepped out onto the balcony.

  Down below, people crawled along like ants.

  Fucking hell. They were just going to send someone else to finish the job I started. But for some reason, the professional aspect didn’t bother me.

  It was the girl.

  I didn’t want her to die.

  But I didn’t plan on ever seeing her again. I got my fun, got my taste, fucked her nice and rough and deep, and now I was done. That was how it always went.

  I got my taste and moved on. Sure, sometimes I spoiled them in the process, bought some nice gifts and shit. But it always ended.

  Things were done with Elise. So why did I care if someone went and killed her?

  “Fuck,” I said, gripping the railing.

  I asked nicely. I hate asking nicely.

  I’m not that kind of guy.

  But Dante told me to go sit and screw anyway. That pissed me off almost as much as the idea of some amateur asshole hurting Elise.

  And the girl seemed like she didn’t fully understand her situation. I tried to ram it home for her. I showed her the gun, made sure she understood that she was at my mercy that whole night.

  If she were smart, she’d go running to daddy and his protection.

  But I saw her eyes.

  She hated that man. Hated him more than she valued her own life maybe. It was hard to say exactly, but I didn’t think she was going to do the smart thing.

  In fact, I was pretty sure she wasn’t going to do anything at all.

  And that meant she was going to die.

  “Fuck,” I said again.

  I turned around, went inside, slammed the door behind me.

  I scooped my phone off the floor and dialed Elise’s number. It rang a few times then went to voicemail.

  I hung up and threw the phone onto my low gray couch.

  The apartment felt stifling. I took off my jacket and draped it over a chair. I unbuttoned my shirt.

  I did fifty pushups, fifty sit-ups, and still felt like a caged tiger.

  “Fuck,” I said.

  I was going to have to save the girl’s life.

  Goddamn it.

  I marched into the bathroom to grab a shower before I made the biggest mistake of my life.

  4

  Elise

  I stood in front of a black door with a white frame at the top of a gray stoop. The street was barely more than a cobblestone alleyway. Graffiti covered walls and dumpsters nearby. A window unit dripped water onto the pavement.

  I paced away to the end of the street and stood at the corner. I looked back over my shoulder and shifted from foot to foot, finally pulling my phone out from my back pocket.

  I had one missed called from Tanner. I almost called him back but stopped myself. I bit my lip and thought about what he said.

  I shoved the phone into my pocket and stalked back toward the door.

  It had been a long time since I was close to my father. I remember the day I walked out on him.

  It was a Saturday. Sun was shining. I told him I was taking a bus to Philadelphia.

  He looked over his shoulder and took a long pull from a beer bottle. “Good luck on your own, you fucking bitch,” he said.

  All the struggle that came after was worth it. All the sleepless nights worrying about whether I could make rent or not, all the long hours doing menial bullshit jobs, all the hustling and praying, it was all worth it.

  It all meant I didn’t have to be a part of my father’s life anymore. I didn’t have to live on his blood money. I didn’t have to put up with his abuse.

  And now he was back, somewhere behind that black door with its white frame.

  I stared at it then walked up the stoop. My heart hammered and I felt like I might be sick.

  He called me the day he came into the city. He called and told me that he was moving his business down south. He said he wanted to be close to his daughter again. He said that sooner or later, I’d come crawling back.

  He was right.

  I knocked hard and waited.

  There was noise inside. Locks slammed open.

  My father’s sallow face stared out at me. His dark eyes were surprised. His hair was thinner
than I remembered, his gut was bigger. He wore a pair of black slacks and a short-sleeve dress shirt. He looked like a Cuban cab driver.

  “Come on,” he said. “Get in out of that alley.”

  I stepped into his house. He looked both ways then slammed the door shut and locked it up tight.

  The living room was sparse. Wood coffee table, big leather couch, oversized flat-screen TV. Takeout containers littered the surfaces. There was a kitchen table with mismatched chairs.

  A soccer game played on mute on the TV.

  My father put his hands on his hips. I walked further into his house just to put some space between us.

  “I wondered when you’d show up,” he said.

  I turned and faced him. I felt years of pent-up fury begin to boil up through my chest. This man, this bastard, he’d tormented me for so long. I worked hard to get away from him and just when my life was going okay, just when things were somewhat stable and I had a future to look forward to, he decided to come roaring back into the picture.

  He decided to fuck my life up all over again.

  “Someone came to kill me last night,” I said.

  He raised an eyebrow. “They didn’t do a good job.”

  “He decided not to,” I said. “But I saw the gun. He was mafia. Said the Leone Crime Family sent him.”

  My father’s face clouded over. “Sit down,” he said.

  “No,” I said. “I’m not staying long.”

  “If the Leones sent someone after you, they’ll try again,” he said. “What the hell happened?”

  “He got cold feet.”

  “Fuck,” he said and grinned. “I thought the Leones were better than that.”

  “You’re going to get me killed,” I said. The words came out a roar. “I worked so hard to get away from you and now you’re back and you’re going to get me killed.”

  “That won’t happen.”

  “It almost did. Last night. And I got lucky.”

  “Sit down,” he said.

  “No,” I said. “I’m not sitting. I’m not staying. I don’t want your help. I just want you to know that when I turn up dead, it’s your damn fault.”

  “Elise,” he said. “You’re being irrational. I’ll post guys outside your door. I’ll watch you.”