Machiavellian: Gangsters of New York, Book 1

by Di Corte, Bella

“I want him to have your nose.”

  “Your eyes and my nose?” I grinned.

  He set the picture back, ran a finger down the slope of my nose, and then kissed me on the end of it. His hands came around my stomach, cradling the bump like a ball. “It pleases me that everyone knows I did this to you.”

  I almost spit my drink out. “You like that everyone knows you got me pregnant?”

  He leaned in even closer, keeping his hands around my stomach. My knee was close to his crotch. “No, that everyone knows it’s me that fucks you.”

  My eyes closed and the breath escaped my mouth in a rush. “Forget the pizza. Let’s go home.”

  “Why home? They have a backroom.”

  I pulled away from him, trying to gauge his face. He was dead serious.

  The waitress set our salads down with a loud clink! against the old counter. A second later, a man with an apron tied around his waist slid our pizza between the two bowls.

  “Good enough,” the waitress said, and then she hustled in the opposite direction to take more orders.

  Their customer service lacked finesse, but hey, the food was amazing. It was like having an asshole doctor with no bedside manners, but he was the best asshole doctor with no bedside manners.

  My eyes went back and forth between the meal in front of me—the man—and the actual meal in front of me—the pizza and the salads.

  He sat back, roaring with laughter. “You just busted my balls.”

  Not waiting around, I took a stab at my salad. Sometimes I liked to put lettuce on top of my pizza and roll it up. Mamma’s had the best Italian dressing. “I didn’t touch your balls, Capo.”

  “Exactly. You picked this—” he waved his hand toward the table “—over me. You wounded my balls without even touchin’ ’em.”

  “I didn’t pick one over the other.” I took a bite of pizza, almost moaning. “You’re dessert.”

  He leaned in very slow, and the bite of salad I’d just stabbed was in route to make it to my mouth. Slowly, oh so slowly, he licked my bottom lip, removing some leftover dressing. “Everything tastes better from your mouth.”

  It was hard for me to find excitement in the food again, but after a minute or two, when he started eating, my hunger came back even stronger. He didn’t even ask. He ordered another pizza, noticing how much I was eating.

  “The salad here is really good, too,” I said.

  He ordered another.

  “That’s how I met old man Gianelli.” He wiped his mouth with a napkin. We still faced each other, and he reached out and wiped my face, too. “I came here for pizza.”

  “You bonded over pizza?”

  He reached over and grabbed a standup menu. He pointed to a spot at the bottom.

  “‘All ingredients are locally grown or imported from Italy,’” I read aloud.

  “Old man Gianelli used to supply their garlic from his garden. The old owners were friends with him. My grandfather came down from Italy, and I brought him here. They met. Hit it off. For the longest time they played correspondence chess by mail. They stopped talking after I left you with them. It wasn’t safe to keep in contact.”

  “Nonno trusted Pops?”

  “Yeah.” He took a drink of his water. “He’d gotten to know them well. That’s how I knew about all of Jocelyn’s troubles. You were wanted. Maybe even needed in their lives.”

  I picked apart my pizza. “Do I...do I look like my mother?”

  Sometimes I felt guilty about it, but my father rarely crossed my mind. I blamed him for getting my mother killed. He knew what kind of people the Scarpones were, and he still tried to take them over. Even when he was running, he was still plotting.

  What hit me the hardest was the picture I found of him leaving the courthouse after the Scarpones had gotten him out of trouble, when they were still on good terms.

  My mother, though—nothing came up when I searched for her.

  Corrado’s bad behavior made front-page news. For Maria, my mother, her goodness, her love, had landed her in a shallow grave.

  Even though I couldn’t remember the way she looked, I thought of her often. Especially when I touched her rosary. Even as a child she tried to teach me how to ease my anxiety with faith.

  Capo stared at my face, maybe thinking back. He ran his finger down my nose again. “Your nose. Your eyes. Even your lips belong to her. The color of your eyes...” He tilted his head. “They seem to be a mix. Her eyes were amber, like whisky in a glass right at sunset. She was a beautiful woman.” He became quiet for a moment.

  “Your father used to bury shit. Guns. Money. Jewelry. Papers. When I found him, he was in a bad neighborhood. The kind where people keep their heads down, eyes averted.”

  “I’m familiar.”

  He nodded once. “There was nothing in the house but ratty furniture. When he ran, he ran with very little. He wouldn’t have thrown his shit away. He believed he was going to make a name for himself. He believed he was going to be the new capo in town.”

  “You think he might’ve buried pictures?”

  “Bingo.”

  “I would.” I swished the last of my drink around the glass. “I would love to see her. It would mean a lot to me if I had pictures of her.” I touched my stomach. “Maybe I’ll see some of her in him.”

  We became quiet as the waitress came back to refill our drinks. I only had one thing on my mind, though.

  I reached out and took Capo’s hand, resting it against my stomach. “Here’s a twist they probably never saw coming. Two families that hated each other are now joined by one link. Love. This little boy brings them together in peace, whether they want it or not.”

  Even if Capo would never speak the words, this baby was created from love. Having children never even crossed my mind when I’d been struggling to survive, but when Capo gave me the choice, I’d never wanted anything more. To be able to hold my blood in my arms felt like the most amazing dream. To see someone else who maybe looked a little like me felt unreal. I craved to feel that special connection.

  Capo lifted a cucumber slice from his bowl and set it in front of my stomach. Then he set another one next to it. Like my stomach had eyes. “Here’s a twist. He’s about the size of a mango right now, even though he’s only supposed to be the size of a cucumber. He’s going to be a big boy.”

  The grin that came to my face was slow. “Like his Papà.”

  Capo called the waitress over. “Let’s not keep him waiting to eat then.” He ordered spumoni cake and ice cream. He looked at me. “Make that double.”

  “Hey!” I started laughing, but I ate the cucumbers he had sat on my stomach. Then he started laughing. I stood, running a hand down my dress. “The bathroom calls before dessert.”

  The smile on my face lingered as I made my way through the restaurant. When I got to the back, where the bathrooms were, I noticed a room off to the side. The backroom Capo had been talking about. It smelled like garlic and tomatoes. I wondered if we could check it out after we ate our spumoni?

  The bathroom trip didn’t take long, and I was still wiping my hands on a paper towel when I stepped out and ran right into Capo’s arm. He was standing in front of the bathroom door. Another man stood by the storage room. He was much shorter, but bull-chested. They stared at each other.

  The napkin in my hand fluttered to the floor when I noticed the tattoo on his hand.

  “Bobby, you got a cigarette on you?”

  The man’s eyes flew to mine. Then back to Capo’s.

  “The fuck? Vittorio?” The man’s voice came out low, and a light sheen of sweat bubbled over his top lip. He was pale, his lips too red from the lack of color on his face. I wondered if the men Capo had killed, the ones who had tried to kill him, had this same reaction when they thought they saw his ghost.

  Capo said nothing, but he nodded in a way that told me he wanted me behind him. I moved, but I put a hand to his side, trying to peek.

  “Tell me one thing, girl.” It took me a mom
ent to realize Bobby was talking to me. “Do you see him, too?”

  I didn’t know what to say. Capo refused to answer, and I wasn’t sure what this guy was going to do if I confirmed it was the man they all thought was dead. Would Bobby pull out a gun and kill us both? If I kept quiet and he got pissed? What then?

  “See who?” I rasped out.

  “The man standing in front of you. The one you’re touching. He’s supposed to be six feet under. His throat slashed.”

  “Did you do that to him?” I was surprised by the amount of venom in my voice aimed at this man that I didn’t know but hated on principal.

  Bobby shook his head, but his eyes never left Capo’s. I wasn’t sure if he was sizing up my husband, afraid that he was going to pounce, or was still in shock at seeing him. “Nah, that wasn’t me, girl. I had no hand in his murder. At one time, we were close.”

  Capo laughed, but it was low. “Is that the lies we’re telling these days, Bobby?”

  Bobby shivered at the sound of Capo’s voice, and then he raised both of his hands. “I swear on my Ma’s head, Vittorio. I heard things, ya know? But that stood between Arturo and Achille. We all suspected, but you know how it is. What’s done is done. We can’t go against the boss, man. Achille admitted it to a few of us a few years ago—it was implied that our fate would be yours if we didn’t do what we were told without question.”

  Capo grinned, and I shivered this time. “You should’ve never come looking for me, Bobby. You should’ve stayed within the protection of the pack you call famiglia.”

  Before I could even take a breath, Capo charged him, slamming his head against the wall. The scariest part was that it all took under a second and he hardly made a sound. When Bobby went down, Capo took him by the shirt collar and started dragging him toward the storage room.

  “Mariposa.” Capo’s voice was cut-throat. “Move.”

  It took me a second to focus, but once I did, I hustled to keep up. Once we were outside, he picked Bobby up and flung him over his shoulder.

  “You can’t kill him!”

  “Consider him dead.”

  “But he didn’t do it, Capo! He’s innocent.”

  “You stand by and watch, I consider you guiltier than the one who uses the knife. He’s a fucking poltroon. And his wife talks too much.”

  “The second reason is not good enough!” Besides, I didn’t know what a poltroon was—maybe a coward?

  “It’s a bonus. Maybe she’ll shut her mouth for five seconds, long enough to shed a fake tear.”

  We made the side of the building, going straight for the car parked directly in front of Mamma’s.

  “Someone might see!” I hissed.

  “I’m dead. Let them try to find me.”

  As soon as Capo opened the doors, two cars came to a stop right next to our car.

  “Get in, Mariposa! Adesso!”

  I flung myself in, right as bullets pinged against the exterior of the car. I covered my stomach, afraid that one might penetrate the bulletproof layer.

  Capo was inside the car a second later. He put the car in gear and peeled out, swiping the side of one of the cars as he sped off. The cars that had stopped in front of the restaurant blocked the flow of traffic. Horns blared.

  “Where’s Bobby?” I asked, breathless.

  “He ended up being valuable in the end.”

  “What?”

  “He took those bullets for me. We’ll call it payback for not telling me that I was going to get my throat cut and then standing by and watching.”

  “Fair enough.” I held tight to the seatbelt. “Was that them? The Scarpones?”

  “Yeah, but not Arturo or Achille. Young guys. Back up for Bobby.” He checked his mirror. “Hold on.”

  To what? I almost screamed but didn’t. He weaved in and out of traffic, not even caring if there was only a breath of air between our car and the one in front or behind us.

  “Did they see you?”

  “They saw you.”

  “But I thought you wanted to—shit! Capo!” He swerved, barely missing a biker. “I thought you wanted to make a grand entrance. Like, ‘Boo, motherfuckers, I’m back!’ Then you’d serve them what they deserve.”

  “You’re not far off the mark, but this isn’t about me anymore. Your face has been seen too many times. Too many coincidences have happened for them not to mean something. The only thing they’re not sure of is how Cash Kelly is involved in this. They’re trying to connect you to me or figure out if you’re one of his.”

  “Italy,” I said.

  “Yeah. My grandfather’s funeral. If I’d be anywhere, I’d be there. That one stands out to them.”

  “You were.” I closed my eyes, suddenly feeling motion sickness. “You knew…were you trying to get yourself killed?”

  “I was ready to end it. They died. I died—again. We were all going to die.” He quickly took a right and my shoulder hit the side of the car. “They didn’t see me just now, though. Bobby blocked my face, and the guys in those cars are young. They wouldn’t know me. Not by body alone. They were after you.”

  “All those men for me? Why couldn’t Bobby deal with me alone?”

  “What would scare you more, Mariposa? One man or a few?”

  “One or a few—my scare meter would be up to here.” I lifted my hand above my head.

  “Bobby came in through the back, so he didn’t know whether you were alone. That’s another reason he called. Once he saw you, he called for backup. That was the end of his scope of knowledge before I stepped out in the open. If they find out who you really are, Marietta, things are going to get more dangerous. Right now, there’s only a connection. Nothing else. But it’s enough.”

  He swerved at the last second, stopping at the entrance of a garage, but it took less than an inhale of breath. As soon as he pulled in, the arm lifted and then barely missed the tail end of the car when it came down as we sped up the incline. At the very top floor—seven or eight?—he parked in the uncovered area, right in direct sunlight.

  He told me to stay put until he came and got me. When he opened my door, I tried to wipe away a tear that slid down my cheek, but he noticed.

  “Mariposa.” He yanked me from the car, using his empty hand to slip a baseball hat over his head. My leather backpack was on his back. I had left it in the car when we’d gone into the pizzeria. He handed me a pair of sunglasses before he set a pair on. “I’m going to end this. It’s time.”

  “The baby’s picture.” I barely got out. We had left it behind on the counter.

  We rushed to get down the incline to the elevators. When we reached them, he handed me something from his pocket.

  My tears collected inside of the glasses, almost fogging them up, but the treasure in my hand was as clear as the day. “You took it.”

  “I paid the bill, too.”

  “You did?”

  “You love it there, and they have a better memory than the Scarpones when customers skip out. So I took the picture, left them two hundred bucks, and then followed you to the bathroom. Unforeseen circumstances. Make it a rule to consider all scenarios ahead of time, Mariposa.”

  “Was Bobby following us?”

  “No. He likes to eat there, but I’m sure he called them when he saw you. He was screwing one of the waitresses. She’s very quiet. He caught a glimpse of you right before you went into the bathroom. I stood hidden until right before you stepped out.”

  There seemed to be nothing else to say. We made the rest of the trip in silence. Once outside, in front, he opened another car and held the door for me. Before I got in, a massive explosion went off on the highest floor of the parking garage we had just left.

  “They’ll know we…I mean, that’s your car, Capo.”

  “Nah.” He took out a computer from the backseat and fiddled with a few things. “The paperwork states that it belongs to a guy who was killed about…” He looked at his old watch. “An hour ago. The Scarpones had a hit out on him.”


  “How soon?” I asked, my voice quiet. I stared at the picture of the baby in my hands. “How soon will you end this?”

  “They’re going to be hunting for you.” He put the car in drive and pulled off. We were on a scenic ride through town, as though the last hour hadn’t happened.

  “Because they know you’ll come for me.”

  “Or hoping so—if I’m still alive.” He checked his rearview. “If they’re hunting you, they’re going after me. They already took my voice. I’ll meet them in hell before they take my heart.”

  27

  Capo

  My wife slipped the rosary over my neck before I left.

  A ritual.

  A rite of passage.

  A symbol of her love and sacrifice to carry with me into battle.

  After the killer had made a deep enough cut that my air left my throat instead of my nose or mouth, I took out the rosary and clutched it in my hands before I went down.

  Each breath was a struggle.

  Each beat of my heart was fought for.

  I had thought that the place where Mariposa had found her heaven—her rosary—would touch me. Because I knew where I was headed. Hell. Before my last breath, I wanted to touch the place where she found peace. To touch what the other side did before taking their final breath.

  Faith.

  There were only a few moments from my first life that stuck with me over the years. One of them was Mariposa’s mother, Maria, before I pulled the trigger.

  Maria was the first person I killed who had offered me forgiveness for what I was about to do. She told me she knew that I had no choice. She told me that what I was doing was showing her mercy. She knew the savages I was related to. What they would do to her once they found her.

  In that moment, though, I’d tried to think of ways to save them both. A girl should have her mother.

  In the end, we both knew it was useless. If I were going to save her daughter, the little girl she called Marietta, all ties to her original life had to be cut.

  “I know where I’m going, Vittorio. I might have made mistakes in my life—I married a man who was not a man of God—but still, I am a woman of faith. I do not fear death, because I am onto a new life. Take care of my baby.”