Bratva Sinner: A Possessive Mafia Romance

by B. B. Hamel

  She stopped scrubbing again when I mentioned the Lionettis. “I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  I took a calming breath and slowly let it out. “If you were to find it, what would you want in exchange?”

  That got her attention. She stood up and stretched her back then gave me a shrewd look.

  “I have a grandson,” she said, cocking her head. “Nice boy, real outgoing, likes that stupid videogame with the blocks? Minecraft? Anyway, he’s a good-looking kid but he’s got horrible teeth. Really just awful teeth. He needs braces and some surgery and all this crap, but we can’t afford it all, you know, dentists are so expensive, all of them cost too much. But maybe you give me the money I need, and I can find that folder for you. The one with all the pictures in it.”

  Cara sucked in a sharp breath. The one with all the pictures. I didn’t say what was inside.

  Marie had it, no doubt in my mind.

  “How much?” I asked.

  “Three thousand.” She stared at me, not smiling. “Dentists, you know?”

  “I can pay that,” I said slowly. “But I want it right now. Drop what you’re doing and let’s go this second.”

  She laughed. “You got three grand in cash on you?”

  “In the car I do.”

  “Seriously?” Cara asked.

  I glanced at her and shrugged. “I like to be prepared.”

  Marie looked skeptical. “Show me the money then we can go.”

  I was running out of patience. This woman was smart, that was obvious, and she knew what she had—but she was playing a game that she didn’t fully understand. I stepped toward her and stared down into her eyes.

  “I’m being nice, Marie,” I said, trying to keep the anger from my tone and doing at terrible job of it. “The fact that I haven’t broken your teeth yet or dragged you outside by your hair means I’m one of the halfway decent guys in this piece-of-shit situation, but if you test me, I won’t hesitate to do what I have to do.”

  She stared at me in alarm. I glanced over at Cara who glared back with narrowed eyes. She wouldn’t like me threatening some innocent lady that just wanted dental surgery for her grandson, but I wasn’t about to sit around playing games with this woman. We had too much at stake.

  “All right, fine,” she said, stripping off her gloves. “Let’s get going then.”

  “Going where?” I asked.

  “My house.” She walked over to the bucket and threw the gloves down. “I’ve got the file in my house. You bring money, I’ll give you the file, that’s it.”

  I stripped off my own gloves and tossed them to her. Cara did the same, though she handed them over with a smile. “Thank you,” Cara said.

  “Be careful with this one,” Marie said, glancing over her shoulder at me. “I know lots of men like him. They’re no good, you know?”

  “He’s not so bad. Just a little impatient.”

  Marie snorted but gathered her things. She gave me the address then left, hurrying outside.

  Cara gave me a dirty look as we got into my car.

  “Did you have to be an asshole?” she asked.

  “Probably not, but I didn’t feel like standing there negotiating terms in some half-cleaned bathroom all day. That bleach stuff gives me a headache.”

  She laughed bitterly. “Poor baby.”

  I grinned and started the engine.

  Marie lived in a row home deep in South Philly. It was a quiet neighborhood, working class, a little rundown, but clean and decent enough. She was already waiting on the stoop and frowned at us, but she opened the door and we stepped inside.

  The place was neat and orderly. The walls were painted teal with colorful landscapes hung all over, most of them done in oil, though some in watercolor. A young boy sat on the couch, maybe eleven years old, all skin and bones in a soccer jersey and a flop of dark hair.

  “Say hello,” Marie snapped.

  “Hello.” The boy smiled.

  I almost recoiled. His teeth were a goddamn mess. I looked at Cara who covered her mouth and was trying not to laugh. I rolled my eyes and hefted the duffel bag up my shoulder as I followed Marie into the kitchen.

  “Want something to eat?” she asked. “I can make something, no problem. I can do tea, if you want, or—”

  I dropped the duffel on the table. The kitchen was cramped, with dirty dishes piled in the sink, but the floors were clean and the counters smelled like lemons.

  “Let’s just get this over with.”

  Marie grunted and shook her head, but went to the door that led into the basement. “Stay here.” She disappeared downstairs.

  Cara leaned up against me. “That kid really needs this,” she whispered. “Can you imagine?”

  I grinned at her. “You’re terrible.”

  “Hey, this is like charity. You’re saving that kid from a terrible childhood.”

  Marie banged around in the basement before coming back up. She had a thick file folder tucked under one arm. It was dark green and creased in a few spots, and I looked at Cara. She licked her lips and nodded.

  “That’s it,” she said. “That’s what my dad gave me.”

  Marie held it out. “Everything’s there. I didn’t look at it all, but what I saw—” She shook her head. “Nasty stuff.”

  “Pretend you never saw it,” I said, taking the folder. I nudged the duffel. “Everything’s in there. A little over three thousand.”

  “Thank you.” Marie sounded genuinely grateful. “Jorge’s a nice boy but those teeth, you know? Really bad.”

  “He’ll be okay,” Cara said. “Handsome boy like that. Once he’s got a better smile, I bet he’ll attract all the girls.”

  Marie rolled her eyes. “Like that’s what we need. I don’t want any stinking great-grandbabies.”

  Cara laughed and headed out. I followed her, folder pressed against my side. I was tempted to rip it open and go through it then and there but I held off. I didn’t want the kid to see, and besides, Marie knew too much already. The more we kept from her, the safer she’d be, even if she didn’t realize it yet.

  We stepped outside and Marie closed the door behind us. Cara hopped off the stoop, grinning like she’d won the lottery.

  “Tell me I’m amazing,” she said, stretching her arms up above her head.

  “You’re okay.”

  “Say it, Luke. Say I’m amazing. I figured this out like Sherlock Holmes.”

  “You’re fine. Like a six out of ten.”

  “I’m a pure ten, baby, and you know it.”

  I grinned and shrugged. “I’ll bump you to a six and a half for that ass. Maybe even a seven if you start wearing some low-cut shirts.”

  She rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling as she walked over to the car, practically bouncing on her toes. I followed, marveling at her lean, long legs—and almost didn’t notice the three guys that approached from across the street.

  I saw them just a few seconds too late. Maher came around the back of my car and as I turned to him, he whipped out a retractable baton, one of those long, skinny black things made out of titanium. Lightweight, but painful as fuck. He swung it at my leg and slammed it into my thigh. I gasped in pain and barely managed to get the folder up in time to block another blow to my head. I staggered away, limping as Maher came at me.

  Cara screamed. Two guys grabbed her. I couldn’t hesitate, couldn’t hold back, because hesitating meant death in this situation. I bulled forward despite the pain in my leg and took another weak blow on my shoulder. I slammed into Maher, knocking him back, then kneed him hard in the gut. I got my elbow up into his throat and knocked him to the ground.

  The folder spilled from my hands. It hit the sidewalk and bounced, but I was already running. The first guy grabbing at Cara turned to me, surprise turning to fear as I smashed my fist into his face. He grunted, nose shattering, and fell backwards like death. The next guy shoved Cara against the car then attacked, fast and furious.

  I danced back,
taking a couple of punches, before I ducked in close. I hit him in the gut, then the neck, then smashed my forehead into his teeth. I felt the stitches snap, but the bastard went down in a tangle.

  I hurried to Cara. “You okay?”

  “I’m okay,” she said, blinking fast. “Oh, fuck, Luke.”

  Maher sat on the sidewalk, paging through the folder with wide, shocked eyes.

  I ripped my car door open and grabbed the gun from the console. By the time Maher looked up, I had the barrel pressed against his head.

  “Hand it over,” I said.

  He grinned and closed it slowly. “You’ve got to be kidding me here, Luke. You do realize what this is, right?”

  “Give me the fucking folder. It’d be a shame if I got your blood all over the pictures.”

  His smile faded. “The Lionettis are going to kill you, you know that, right? This is way too important to fuck around with.”

  I grabbed the folder from his hands. “What the fuck are you doing here?” I checked his goons out of the corner of my eye. One of them was still down, out cold, and the other was trying to wake him up, slapping him lightly in the face. Cara sat in the car, face a white sheet of fear.

  “Came to talk about the girl,” Maher said. “Been following you all afternoon. I thought you were up to something interesting, so I figured I’d sit back and wait. Then you came out with that thing, and I couldn’t help myself.” Maher laughed, shaking his head. “I didn’t plan on fighting.”

  I believed him. If he did, I’d probably be dead. They had the drop on me, and if Maher or the other two were armed, they could’ve ended it quick.

  As it happened, I got lucky. Once Maher was down, he was too busy looking at the pictures to get back up and rejoin the fight. If he had, things would’ve gone differently.

  I backed toward the car. “You don’t know what’s happening here, Maher. Stop getting involved.”

  “I’m already involved.” Maher slowly climbed to his feet and wiped his hands off on his pants. “You think I’m not going to tell the Lionettis what I just saw?”

  I hesitated and held the gun out. “Maybe I should kill you here and now then.”

  “Maybe you should.” Maher’s eyes shone with a wild, unhinged excitement. He was always riding on that edge between excitement and death, like he got off on the adrenaline. The bastard was crazy, even by the standards of the street.

  I couldn’t kill him though. Marie stood in the doorway with her little grandson right behind her, staring out at me with wide eyes and a gaping mouth, horrible teeth and all. I couldn’t murder Maher right in front of the kid, and besides, killing Maher would only cause more problems. Maher was well liked in the underground community, and there were more than a few people that would come for revenge.

  No, I couldn’t kill Maher. I’d have to get permission from my Pakhan first.

  “Another time,” I said and climbed into the car.

  Maher helped get his guys up off the street as I pulled out. I left them on the sidewalk, trying to wake the one guy up.

  “He saw what’s in there,” Cara said softly, staring at the file folder in her lap. “That’s bad, right?”

  I nodded once. “That’s very fucking bad.”

  “You stopped them though. Those two guys, they were going to hurt me.”

  I put a hand on her leg. “Nobody’s going to hurt you. I’m going to get us out of this.” I glanced down at the folder and took a breath as I headed back to my place.

  Those files were my way out. They were my leverage, the one thing the Lionettis would do almost anything to get their hands on. So long as I had them, the Lionettis wouldn’t just come and kill me on the spot.

  I had to play this smart, or else I’d get rolled over, and I couldn’t promise what would happen to Cara.

  8

  Cara

  Luke spent most of the night going through the files. I sat with him, drinking a beer and staring over his shoulder at picture after picture of men sleeping with various prostitutes.

  Some of the girls appeared again and again. Some of them even looked into the camera and smiled, like they knew what was happening. I could only guess at the sick sort of stuff the Lionetti family got into—not like I knew very much about them though.

  Dad didn’t teach me about his world. He kept that stuff from me, maybe out of some paternal instinct, or maybe because he didn’t give a shit about telling me who the power players were. The only things he taught me were how to open a beer with my teeth and how to avoid a creditor.

  Otherwise, I’d been on my own for a long time.

  We went to bed late and I woke early the next morning. I felt itchy, exhausted, on edge. I made coffee and scrambled some eggs, and Luke came down not long later wearing only a pair of gym shorts. I kept glancing at his muscular chest, at the tattoos on his skin, a pair of crossed swords, a tiger, tribal figures, koi fish—

  Someone banged on the door.

  Luke didn’t move. He stared toward the front of the house then glanced over at me. I was sitting at the table, a forkful of eggs at my lips.

  “Don’t move,” he said and went into the other room. He peered through the window then relaxed and opened up.

  German stormed inside.

  “It’s early,” Luke said. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’ve been calling all night,” German said, throwing up his hands. “Did you turn off your phone?”

  “Battery died.” Luke crossed his arms over his chest. I stared at his muscles then remembered to eat my eggs and get control of myself.

  “A guy showed up at the club right before closing. A big guy, slimy sort of fella, you know what I mean? Happy smile, ready to talk and grease palms.”

  “Lionetti,” Luke said.

  “One of their Capos. Can you believe that? Sent a Capo to do business.”

  “What’d he want?”

  “They want to meet with you.” German started pacing. I didn’t think I’d ever seen German on edge like that before and it made my stomach feel hollow with anxiety.

  “I’m not surprised,” Luke said. “They know I have that file. Were you followed here?”

  “No,” he said. “But if Maher knows, they know.”

  Luke sighed and scratched his head. “Right, I keep forgetting. God damn, Maher’s a real pain.”

  “I told him you’d meet,” German said. “This morning at nine in the park. Right in Rittenhouse. Somewhere public.”

  Luke nodded slowly. “Public is good, but it won’t matter if they really want me dead. You know the Lionettis.”

  I stood and drifted over toward them and leaned against the kitchen doorframe. “I don’t know them,” I said. “Why don’t you explain?”

  German glanced over and snorted. “Not a lot to say. The Lionettis are dangerous.”

  “The Lionettis are brutal,” Luke said, shaking his head. “Don’t sugarcoat it for her. The Lionettis are in power because they’re willing to cut off heads, murder people in daylight, and essentially terrorize the city until they get what they want. Politicians put up with it, and everyone always wondered why, but now it’s pretty fucking clear that the Lionettis have everyone under their thumb.”

  “So we pissed off a violent gang by stealing the one thing that’s protecting them from getting destroyed by the politicians and the police?” I cocked my head, frowning. “Just so I’m clear.”

  “Pretty much.” Luke looked up at the ceiling then back down to German. “All right, I’ll go. Rittenhouse might be too public even for them.”

  “I’m coming,” I said, walking toward them.

  I shook my head. “Absolutely not.”

  But German raised a hand and grimaced. “Actually, the Capo asked for her specifically.”

  I laughed and grinned at Luke. “Can’t really stop me then, can you?”

  He glared at me, jaw flexing. “This isn’t a game, Cara.”

  “No, it’s really not, but I’m not letting you negotiate for my l
ife without me around.”

  “She’s got a point,” German said.

  “Thank you.” I glared at Luke. “Well? We’re going, right?”

  “Fine,” he said, clearly annoyed. “Go get dressed. Don’t talk when we’re there. Don’t do anything stupid. We’ll meet with one guy, but that park’s going to be swarming with their men. One wrong move and we’re both dead.”

  I felt a sudden dread but kept smiling through the fear. “Sounds like a lovely day at the park.” I walked past him and let my fingers trail across his arm. “I’ll be ready when you are.”

  He watched me walk upstairs and I kept my smile on—until I was alone in my room.

  I sat on the edge of the bed and leaned back on my hands and squeezed my eyes shut. I tried to calm down by taking deep breaths, and even tried some meditation crap I’d learned a few years ago when my dad was living in the basement and kept coming home in the middle of the night and waking me up, but nothing helped. My heart was a jackhammer and my body buzzed with anticipation.

  These men wanted me dead, all because of what my father stole. And now that we had it back, the danger was even worse.

  Luke should’ve given me to them along with the file folder. That would be the smart move, anyway. He’d guarantee that the Lionettis wouldn’t come after him or his crew, and maybe even end up with some good will from a powerful family.

  And yet he insisted on fighting them, all for me.

  I didn’t understand it. We barely knew each other, though the way he looked at me, the way he touched me—

  It made me shiver.

  Like I was a prize.

  Or worse, like I was something he worshiped.

  “Shit,” I said softly, trying to ignore the spike of pleasure I felt at the thought of him kneeling down in front of me, then got up and got dressed.

  We drove over in silence. Luke’s apprehension radiated off him in sharp waves and I didn’t want to push him when he clearly didn’t want to talk. He drove laps around Rittenhouse and made multiple phone calls to his guys, going over positioning and strategy, talking contingencies and back-up plans. In the end, he parked a few blocks away, shoved a gun into his waistband, then got out.