Mobster's Gamble: Chicago Mob Series Book 1

by Amy Rachiele

  “I practically forced her into the car,” I admit, ashamed.

  “She would have run again if she didn’t want to be here,” Pop confirms.

  “One more beating like the ones she got and Doc Howie said it could kill her.”

  Pop closes his eyes and nods. “I know. He told me.”

  “So what do I do?”

  “Let things be. She’ll work, find the purpose she is talking about. And maybe one day she will even feel at home here. I will always be thankful to her.”

  “Why?” What is he talking about?

  “Because she is the one who finally came along and stole my son’s heart.”

  Chapter 19

  Anya

  I thought that I would be tired. I have been working for Jessie for a week. It is Friday night and I decide to stay in the kitchen with her. She is going through preparing chaffing dishes of appetizers to leave out for the bartender in case anyone at the club that is on the opposite side of the casino orders any.

  “The club staff will plate them. I just make sure they are ready to go.” She talks as she is showing me what to do. “Club-goers don’t care if it’s frozen, reheated stuff but I like to at least leave out garnishes to be added to give the food that little extra something special.”

  I nod while I watch her, learning. Working has been a distraction from thinking about Priest and every ugly thing that could be going on at the compound. The separation has been spiritually freeing but as I help Jessie carry large metal trays of food through the back alley—a short cut to the club instead of walking across the entire building—a memory of when I was fourteen surfaces.

  “I ran away before,” I reveal while we walk.

  “What, hon?” Jessie asks, stepping over a piece of unidentified trash on the sidewalk.

  “This isn’t the first time. I ran away on my fourteenth birthday. I didn’t last long because he found me. I was starving, homeless, living in an abandoned warehouse with other wayward people in the old industrial section of Chicago. A man found me first…” I jump when I realize someone is behind me. Hands reach out, taking the pan from my hands. It’s Carlo, his face unreadable.

  “Thank you,” I tell him.

  “Go on,” Jessie urges as Carlo keeps stride with us.

  “Umm… A man wanted me to sell my body. To prostitute me out. I had hit rock bottom when Priest found me. My mother died at the compound when I was twelve. A warm bed and a hot meal is a very enticing thing so I went back. The devil you know is better than the devil you don’t…” I trail off.

  “It sounds like you didn’t have any options,” Jessie concludes.

  “I didn’t.”

  “If you don’t mind me asking, what happened to your dad?” she asks.

  I glance up at Carlo’s stony face and wonder why he is here with us.

  “My dad abandoned my mom when she was pregnant with me.”

  “I’m sorry.” Jessie’s face is lined with pity. I hate pity.

  “It’s what happened. There is nothing I can do to change it,” I respond. And it is the truth.

  “I’m glad you are with us now.” Jessie tips her head to Carlo. “I’m really glad he brought you here.” The statement was a bold one for Jessie to compliment Carlo.

  We stop at a side door. In front of us is a line that appears to be a mile long of scantily clad women and a few men in dress shirts and jeans. Jessie gets a key out of her pocket as she balances her tray on her knee. I reach over to help her steady it. Inside, the muffled thumping of music shakes the floor. We are standing in a small kitchen. It is nothing compared to Jessie’s restaurant kitchen. There are a couple of microwave ovens, a sink, a small dishwasher, and one oven. Carlo and Jessie place the food on a long counter that runs along the wall.

  Bobby comes streaming in. He works in the kitchen and he is a bartender. He grabs a white plate from the stack in the corner.

  “What do you need?” I ask, offering to help. I’m engrossed in setting wontons onto a dish when Carlo and Jessie get loud.

  “Do you not listen to a fucking word I say?” Carlo yells.

  “It is a two-second walk. I’m not traipsing through the entire casino!” Jessie booms, defending walking through the alley instead of the building.

  “I’m head of security and I say you will. I’ll get you a little cart to pull,” he shouts sarcastically.

  “You’re not my babysitter, Carlo. I can take care of myself!” Jessie’s hands are on her hips, defiant.

  I am watching them and Carlo shoots a look at me. I turn away.

  I’ve heard yelling since I have been here. Jessie shouts at the top of her lungs all the time but for some reason this is different. Carlo reminds me of Priest when he is angry. It sets off a small bomb in my brain that says run.

  I zip out of the kitchen the way Bobby came in and I find myself in the club. Thrumming bodies that writhe and dance collide with me. I’m shoved along like a rag doll. Panic laced with claustrophobia hits me and tears roll down my cheeks. I’m frozen in one spot except for when I am pushed. The entire room is jam-packed with people, crazy-colored lights, and music so loud it hurts my ears and floods my senses, heightening my awareness of sweaty bodies. I begin to push back when hands encircle my waist.

  “It’s okay,” Carlo shouts so I can hear him, his anger gone. He leans down and lifts me, cradling me in his arms. Priest has carried me this way before out of guilt. My heart rate spikes and little tingles shoot out from my belly. I wrap my hands around his neck and place my head against him. He smells wonderful, woodsy and all male. I feel feminine in his arms. I never had that with Priest. Carlo swiftly gets us out of the club and to the elevator. He doesn’t put me down when we are free. He keeps me in his arms, bending to press the up arrow.

  Within a few moments we are outside my apartment. He opens the door and takes me directly through the living room to my bedroom. He lays me down and I sink into the soft comforter and mattress. I take this stolen moment alone with him to really look into his eyes; worry, warmth, and desire burn there.

  For the first time in a long time, I do something I want to do. I lean forward and kiss him. I wasn’t expecting anything from it. I just did it, and what I get back is like nothing I have ever felt before. He deepens the kiss, reaching his hand up and running it down my arm, caressing me. I sit up so I can take more from him and use my hands to hold his face to mine. I don’t want to let him go. I have never felt this way about anyone before. It’s sweet and makes me throb for more.

  He pulls back. “Anya, don’t start something you wouldn’t want to finish.” His voice is sexy and deep.

  “Why would I do that?” I reach down and grasp the hem of my shirt and tear it over my head. His eyes heat. “You make me feel alive.”

  “You don’t owe me anything,” he says. I’m puzzled, but quickly understand his meaning.

  “I know.” And I cut off the word by pulling him down to me again.

  Chapter 20

  Carlo

  Having wild fantasies are bullshit compared to this. I let my hands roam down her chest and over her figure. I want her bad. My control is slipping as I trail my hand back up cupping her breast, and she moans into my mouth. I pull the fabric down, freeing her, and lower my head to suck her into my mouth. Fuck, she is so sweet. Her back arches, letting me take as much as I want. And I know what I want—more! I let my other hand release her breast from the confines of her bra and I have to look down to savor the vision. The two plump baubles pushed up high, luscious for the taking. I rub, play, and nip at them, enjoying every second.

  I grab her ass and scoot her toward me and lay her down, pinning her beneath me. Her fingers rub my back, exploring, before she rips my shirt over my head so that we are skin to skin. The urge is strong to strip her pants off and take her. She must need it too because she bucks up against me. Her hand slides down into the front of my pants and she gives me long agonizing strokes. Shit, she is going to kill me. The button on my jeans separates and s
he lowers the zipper, freeing me for better access with her hands. I kiss her hard on the mouth, plunging my tongue in, wanting to do the same thing to her mound. I can’t stand the pressure that is building. I slip her pants off and without any hesitation latch onto her nether region and her hips buck brutally while she lets out a deep moan. I hold her legs and thighs steady, taking what I want. Her passion-filled sounds make me fucking wild. I climb back up her, keeping her legs pinned wide, and thrust. She is mine and I am never letting her go!

  *****

  Repeating buzzes come from my pants on the floor. I glance over at Anya’s beside clock; it’s eight-thirty. She is curled snug against my front. I realize I slept through the whole night and feel great for the first time since I can remember. Immediately, I am ready to take her again. I’m not tired at all. I brush strands of her wavy hair away from her face so I can see her profile better—beautiful. I stare at her, drinking her in, and notice a small scar under her eye. I stiffen at the thought of what could have happened to her. I relax when I think about the fact that we all have scars, some are on the inside and some are on the outside. It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m going to take care of her, treasure her, hell, I’ll even marry her. I kiss her cheek and she smiles without moving, eyes closed.

  “Are you going to answer your phone?”

  “Nope. It’s Pop wondering where I am for breakfast.”

  I reach my hand out, cupping her exposed breast that is impossible to resist.

  The buzzing stops then starts again. “Ugh!” I groan.

  “It’s okay.” Anya yawns. “I have to be downstairs to start preparing the lunch menu.”

  “I’m the boss and I think we should both call in sick,” I joke.

  “I think your dad is the ‘boss’ and we have to go to work.” The emphasis she puts on the word boss strikes me in an odd way. Does she know?

  I flip her to face me.

  “What does that mean?”

  She hesitates, biting her bottom lip. “It means that I know your family is more than casino owners.”

  “How?”

  “Oh, lots of things. The fact you all live here. The way you treat each other. Some things that have been said when people think I’m not paying attention. You all use the word family all the time when you aren’t all related.”

  “Not everyone who works here is a part of it,” I clarify.

  “No, but the people who live here are. It’s like your own compound.”

  I’m shocked at her comparison.

  “Julius said you have a sister. Will I ever get to meet her?” She seems eager.

  “Clarissa? Yeah. She’s at school on the other side of the country.”

  “With Joey? He’s part of your ‘family’ too.” She smiles.

  “You have been paying attention. Joey is in the ‘family’ but not actually a blood relative.”

  “I learned all of these bits and pieces from other people. Why have you stayed away from me?”

  “Because of this.” I squeeze her breast. “You have been through more than anyone should go through. I was fighting it. I lead a dangerous life. I work long hours and when you are part of the ‘family,’ my enemies become your enemies.” I lean down and kiss her. “I was falling for you, hard.”

  “I like the sound of family.” The tingling of her voice tugs at my heartstrings. From what I gather, what she’s saying is that where she was living she didn’t consider them family. Family is such a loaded word to me. It’s a powerful word in my world and it’s not thrown around loosely. I haven’t known Anya my whole life; in fact, it’s only been a few weeks, but I already know she is stuck under my skin like many of the other people in my life who I refer to as family.

  “Well, you are family here.” I bend to press a promising kiss to her sugary pink lips. I spring to get up and slap her on the butt playfully. “It’s time for breakfast.”

  “Carlo.” My name rolling off her tongue, I want that. “No one came for me.”

  I zip up my jeans and meet her eyes. She is still lying on her side wrapped in the blankets. I sit beside her seeing the hurt in her features. I rub my hand on her arm, letting her know it is okay to talk to me. I need it. I have so much pent-up love for her that stuffing it down released a flood gate and I hang on her every word.

  “Came for you?”

  “The night they beat me.” Tears stumble down her cheeks and her eyes are fixed on the wall. A haze of blinding red rage shoots through me. I hold onto my calm for her.

  “What happened?” The words come out of me harsh and disconnected.

  “Are you mad at me?” she wonders.

  “Why would I be mad at you?”

  “The way your voice changed. Your hold on me changed.”

  “No, I am not mad at you. I’m mad at the situation and what you endured. Go on.”

  “I know that everyone could hear what was going on. Not one of the other members came to help.”

  Burning the fucking place down is my first reaction. Setting the blaze myself so that every fucker in there dies from having their flesh melted off.

  “Priest locked me in a place he knows is my worst fear—the basement.” She wipes her eyes. “Kylie came to get me.”

  “Is she at least a friend?”

  She nods her head a few times. “Simon too.”

  I digest all of it and my fury heightens.

  “No one even tried to stop Priest?” Fucking losers.

  “It wasn’t only Priest. He had four people I didn’t know with him. They tore me from my bed.” The tears come faster. I rub her back.

  “You don’t have to tell me any more.” I don’t want to fucking hear it. Each word out of her mouth sent my temper to levels I haven’t been at in a long time. I keep it tapped down for her.

  “It started with the new guy… Caesar.”

  I jerk to stand. “Caesar! He laid a hand on you!”

  “To...hold me down.” Her face buries in the pillow she is resting on. I rip my phone out to call Alex.

  “Order a meeting with the Campuonos, I want Caesar’s head on a platter.” I say it as evenly as possible. “Priest is a—”

  “I’ve been trying to reach you.” Alex cuts me off. “Priest is outside, in the front, demanding you hand over his follower. I assume he’s talking about Anya. What do you want me to do?”

  “Nothing! I’ll handle it.” I snatch my shirt off the floor. “Stay here!” I order.

  I don’t even bother with the elevator. My adrenaline pushes me forward, and I’m barely winded. I skim down the last stairwell to the main floor. I burst through it and stomp in a cloud of fury past the gamblers and through the electric front doors. A sea of blue robes with arms linked stand in line directly before me. They are chanting but through the surge of wrath I can’t hear what they’re saying. My only focus is Priest. I lock onto his blue eyes and stride for him. The distance closes between us quickly. I strike out, grabbing him by the neck and tossing him to the ground. The chain has been broken and all of the followers jump back in horror. I raise my fist, punching him square across the jaw. Blood from his mouth sprays into the air. I shove my clawed hands into the silky fabric of his blue robe, scrunching it up.

  I roar point-blank into his face. “For every hit you gave Anya, I’m gonna give you two!”

  Chapter 21

  Anya

  Carlo didn’t know I followed him out, he was too enraged. I dressed quickly and took the steps just as he had. I’m not sure what Alex said to him on the phone but what Carlo stated left me icy cold inside. Exact details of everything I had endured had poured out of me, a confession to him.

  On the casino floor, commotion gathers by the entrance. Security, including Alex, are rushing to the scene outside, keeping the gamblers back away from whatever was going on. I push through the crowd, shoving people aside. I knew whatever was going on involved Carlo. My heart thumped with fear for him. Seeing him hurt would be a knife to my own chest.

  I make it to the glass d
oors and fingers wrap around my upper arm. It’s Julius. He takes a long hard look at me and says, “Don’t go out there.” I rip out of his hold.

  “I have to.”

  In the morning air, I step across the casino threshold, and Alex’s arm shoots out, stopping me. An arc of bodies stands around the fray on the ground; blood has splattered the concrete. Carlo is mounted over Priest. He is hitting him over and over again. In the face, the chest, the stomach. Priest is thrown around like a limp piece of flesh. His eyes are swelling. I touch the tender skin around my eyes, remembering how the bruising impaired my vision.

  I can’t identify what I’m witnessing as a battle because Carlo is so overpowering. Bloodlust runs through him; if I could see it with my eyes I think I’d be able to smell it too.

  In a small way, I am torn. Priest has fed me, given me shelter, and I keep his secret. But the rest of me stews in the hatred I have toward him.

  “You beat on her fucking arms too!” Carlo snarls, pinning Priest’s hands so he can’t move them. He punches out with his free fist, making sure to pummel every inch of him.

  I glance up; no one aids Priest. Horrified expressions coats their faces. It’s poetic justice. They didn’t save me either. They just let him beat me. The ritualized punishments were nothing compared to what I suffered the last few nights I spent under the roof of the Anointed Heavens. I know Kylie and Simon tried. It was futile.

  Carlo gets up, his chest heaving. Priest, barely conscious, tosses his head to the side to expel the blood that has pooled in his mouth.

  “Don’t you ever come here again! Spew your venomous Bible teachings somewhere else!” He crouches down close to Priest’s bloody face. “Don’t you ever fucking look at Anya again!” He pushes off from the ground, using the weight of his body to crush the side of Priest’s head instead of the sidewalk. He turns, his long strides eating up the space between us with fury boiling off him. As he comes closer, I see splatters of blood on his face and clothes. He reaches his hand out to me and I take it, our hands slipping with the sweaty wetness of blood.