Rocco: A Mafia Romance (Ruin & Revenge)

by Sarah Castille

  She was a psychologist, dammit. She knew, just as Olivia had so gently pointed out, that people didn’t think straight in times of trauma. They didn’t make rational decisions. But she also knew people were consistent. They followed their moral codes.

  I would never hurt a civilian or a woman.

  What if that person was a threat? What if they meant to hurt someone you cared about, directly or indirectly? Would you hurt them then?

  Yes.

  Gah. After the police investigation had wrapped up and she had buried her Papa and grieved his loss, she would think about Rocco. And she could grieve him, too.

  “No, thanks. Ethan’s destroying a big band version of ‘Tainted Love’ inside.” She pushed herself up against the wall, feeling the vibration of the music through the painted brick. “I’ll go put him out of his misery one last time.”

  TWENTY-TWO

  “I was so scared.” Tiffany wound her soft, naked body around Mike under the covers of his king-size bed.

  “I know, baby. You were very brave.” Mike lifted her on top of him, spreading her legs so she straddled his hips, her body bathed in the early-morning light. She had such a beautiful body—big, firm tits with rosy pink nipples, slender waist, and gently curved hips. She shaved her pussy, and when he spread her legs, he could see the pink folds of her cunt and the nub of her clit just waiting to be touched.

  “I thought he was going to kill me.” She shivered, and he stroked the creamy expanse of her thigh. This was the fourth night poor Tiffany had woken with nightmares about Frankie pointing a gun at her, and sex was the only thing that helped her get back to sleep.

  “I’m sure it was just a misunderstanding.” He didn’t want to think about the conflict situation he was in. His loyalty was to his crime family, but Tiffany was the witness who could put Frankie in jail. Sweet, innocent Tiffany who had just been checking in on Grace’s father as a favor to Mike. It was all his fucking fault. He should never have involved her in any way. Every time he tried to do something good, it got fucked up. Now he had fucking Mr. Rizzoli calling to remind him about the oath he swore to put his crime family above everything else. If there was no witness, there was no case. Big things were happening in New York that impacted the Toscani family in Vegas. Nico needed Frankie out of jail. Did Mike understand?

  Yeah, he fucking understood. And fuck that. Frankie wasn’t part of the Toscani crime family. Mike didn’t owe him anything. Frankie had punched him in the face. He was going to beat him with a stick because he’d tried to alleviate the boredom of sitting in an alley for hours while Frankie panted after the underboss’s daughter. So what that Frankie had given him most of the money to expand his gym business? Or that Frankie had given him responsibilities beyond those of any other Toscani soldier? Frankie was a De Lucchi. Other. And what the fuck had he been doing there anyway? If Mike had to guess, he’d finger Frankie for the one with the contract on the Mantinis. And poor Tiffany caught him in the act. Jesus Christ.

  “Maybe I should go into witness protection.” She drew in a ragged breath. “The detective in charge said I could call any time.”

  “You don’t want that, baby,” he said quickly. “You wouldn’t be able to work or look after your dog. You wouldn’t be able to go out. We couldn’t be together. You’d be stuck in some safe house with a bunch of cops…” His gut clenched at the thought. His girl. Alone. With a bunch of men who’d be thinking exactly what Mike knew they’d be thinking when they had to look after a beautiful girl like his Tiffany. No fucking way. It was his job to protect her and mob or no mob he would find a way to keep her safe.

  He trailed his finger along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, but just as he got near the swollen folds of her pussy lips, she clamped a firm hand on his wrist.

  “What kind of friends do you have, Mikey? He killed that nice old man and then he tried to kill me.”

  Mike wasn’t about to tell her that his “friend” was a Mafia enforcer, or that Frankie must have had a damn good reason for killing the New York underboss, because even Mike knew he was going to lose Grace over it. No doubt Mr. Toscani would find out what that reason was when Charlie Nails bailed Frankie’s ass out of jail later today.

  “I don’t know if he killed anyone. Maybe the old man just died ’cause that’s what old men do.” He eased her down until his cock was nestled against her hot, wet pussy. She was always wet for him. No matter what they were doing or where they were, if he wanted her, she was ready.

  “Do you ever think about running away?” She cupped her breasts and squeezed them, grinding against his cock like something out of a wet dream. “Just getting in a car and leaving everything behind—your work, your friends, your apartment—and being someone new?”

  “You mean starting over?” He reached for her breasts, covered her hands with his and watched her pink nipples harden.

  “Yeah. You ever want to start over, Mikey?”

  “Can’t say I ever have.” He’d been in the life as long as he could remember, and it had worked out well for him. He liked the crew, the work, and the benefits. Without the mob, he would never have been able to open his gym, or afford the nice bungalow he’d bought with the big back yard for his two rescue dogs, and he would never have had the respect he got as a wiseguy.

  Mike knew he wasn’t the brightest lightbulb in the box, but he was a good worker, a good earner, and a loyal friend, which was why he wasn’t saying much about Frankie even though his head was full of things he wanted to say. He knew Frankie didn’t work exclusively for Nico. He was a De Lucchi, and he worked for anyone in the crime family who needed his help. Hell, Frankie had done work for Tony, and Tony’s father, Santo, when he was alive, and the don had sent him all over the U.S. to help out other Gamboli family factions. If the don wanted his own underboss dead, the De Lucchi crew were the ones to handle the job.

  But man, having to whack the father of your girlfriend had to suck big time, and given how close Frankie and Grace had become, Mike had trouble believing that Frankie had actually done the deed. Yes, he was a cold, hard, ruthless, vicious son-of-a-bitch, and even Mike, with his years of experience in the mob, couldn’t stomach some of the things he’d seen Frankie do. But he had changed since Grace came into the picture. Mike hadn’t thought Frankie was capable of feeling anything, but after seeing him with Grace, Mike was sure he cared for her. A lot. But more than that, the fact that Mike was still alive and with four working limbs after the fiasco at the jazz club said it all. Grace had turned the monster into a man. How could that man give up the one person who had brought him into the light?

  “I wish you had been there.” She lay over his chest, her breasts soft and warm on his skin, her face buried in his neck. “You’re so big and strong. You could have fought him and saved the old man. You could have saved me.”

  He growled in pleasure at her appreciation for his size. Women usually thought he was overweight or too big. One woman had laughed at his barrel chest. No one had ever wanted Mike to save them.

  “You ever need me, baby, I’ll be there.” He hugged her tight with one arm and reached for the condoms on the night table with the other. His gaze fell to the small gray box beside the lamp. He still hadn’t given Tiffany her present. Every time he reached for it, something held him back. Maybe it was too soon. Or too late. Maybe she wouldn’t like it. Or maybe she would refuse it because she had decided to leave him. He had come up with dozens of excuses, but in the end, it had never been the right time.

  But now, after spending four nights with her, holding her while she slept, soothing her nightmares away, he wanted to give her something special—a little piece of him.

  “I got something for you.” He bypassed the condoms and picked up the box. “It used to be my mother’s.”

  Tiffany opened the small gray box and her face ran the full gamut of emotions from wonder to tears as she stared at the little locket. “It’s lovely,” she said softly. “No one has ever given me a present.”

 
“You’re kidding me?” He stared at her aghast. “A beautiful girl like you? You never had a present? Not even from your parents before they passed or your uncle? What about boyfriends?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “I don’t have many memories of my parents, and when my uncle took me to live with him, he made me leave everything behind. He lived in a tiny place and there was no room for my stuff. He wasn’t a giving or sharing kind of person. I dated lots of guys, but it was just casual. You’re the first serious relationship I’ve ever had.” She looked up through the thicket of her lashes. “Are we serious?”

  “You bet we are.” His chest puffed with pride at knowing he was her first serious boyfriend, and he reached for the locket. “You can put something inside,” he said, embarrassed that his fingers were too thick to open it for her. “Maybe a picture or something like that.”

  “A picture of you?”

  “If you like.”

  “Could you hand me my phone? I’ll take that picture right now.”

  He gave her the phone she’d placed on the nightstand and she took a few pictures of his smiling face.

  “Put it on. I want to see it on you.”

  Tiffany took out the locket and fastened it around her neck. The slim gold oval hung just below the crescents of her beautiful breasts.

  “You are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” he said softly. “I’m the luckiest man on the fucking earth.”

  A pained expression crossed her face so quickly he wondered if he’d seen it. “What if I asked you to run away with me?” she asked, her fingers stroking the locket. “Would you leave this all behind? Would you become someone new and start over again … with me?”

  Mike’s phone buzzed beside the condom box, and his hand wavered between the two. He was hard to the point of aching and whoever was on the other end could wait long enough for him to get his rocks off and soothe his sexy little nurse.

  Unless it was the boss.

  Or the boss’s boss.

  Or Frankie calling him from jail.

  He bypassed the condoms and picked up the phone. “Yeah?”

  Tiffany slid her slick, wet cunt up and down his cock, making it almost impossible to focus on Paolo who was rattling off the address where Luca would be expecting him in half an hour. When Paolo finally finished he tossed the phone, and gripped Tiffany’s hips.

  “You’re a bad girl. That was a business call and I couldn’t concentrate. What was that question you asked before we got interrupted?”

  Her face shuttered for a moment, and then a slow, sensual smile spread across her face. “It wasn’t important. Now I’m more interested in hearing how you’re going to punish your bad girl.”

  Mike lifted Tiffany’s hips and slammed her down over his cock. “She’s gonna get fucked hard and long, and she’s gonna come all over my cock.”

  She moaned and licked her lips. For a moment, he thought he saw something other than sweet innocence in her eyes, but then she started riding him, and all he could think about was the feel of her hot, wet pussy, the gentle sway of her breasts, and the long golden hair that spilled over her shoulders. He tried to think what he might have done in his life that God would send him an angel, but when she reached behind her to squeeze his balls, he stopped thinking at all.

  And that’s why he never saw it coming.

  TWENTY-THREE

  “Did you whack Mantini?”

  “No.” Rocco leaned against the corrugated metal shed in the middle of fucking nowhere and watched Nico pace up and down in the sand. The broken water tower behind him gave no clue what the property used to be, but the fact that they were meeting here instead of the clubhouse told Rocco everything he needed to know.

  If he had whacked Mantini while the underboss was under Nico’s protection in Nico’s territory without approval from the don, his life was done.

  Good thing then, he hadn’t done his job. He pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. First thing he’d done when he got out of jail was buy a pack of smokes. Next on his agenda was a visit to Clay. He’d picked a couple of fights in jail, trying to find that cold, dark place that would help him endure the shit his life had become, but nothing beat the sting of Clay’s whip.

  “Why the fuck did Charlie Nails bail me out?” He was done with this shit. After the arrest, he had resigned himself to spending the rest of his life in jail. Seeing Grace on the other side of the glass, watching her face fall when she saw the truth in his eyes had almost broken him. He could see her and not touch her. Listen to her, but not speak because the fucking phones were monitored. In that moment, she became the dream again, the embodiment of the longing that had filled his nights for six long years, the one thing in the world he wanted and was destined never to have.

  “Do you mean, why did it take him four days?” Luca asked. “It’s because you have a record and someone told a reporter you had ties to the mob. Charlie heard bail was going to be set at one million dollars. He needed time to work that down to something reasonable and then get the cash.” He tipped his head to the side. “What’s Henderson like? I did my time in Reno.”

  “It’s a fucking country club. I wanted to stay. Only reason I came out was because Charlie said Nico put up the funds and he wanted a return on his money.” He pushed a cigarette out of the package. Fuck. It was just too fucking easy to go back. The darkness. The numbness. The pain.

  “Nothing has changed in six years, Rocco. Smoking is still addictive. It still causes cancer. And you are still going to kill yourself if you don’t stop.”

  He shook his head to get Grace’s voice out of his mind. This time he was going to fucking smoke until he fucking died so he wouldn’t have to feel the pain of losing her all over again.

  “I don’t know if your scowling face is the kind of return I was hoping to get,” Nico said. “But yes. I need you on the outside. I’ve been hearing rumors that Don Gamboli is dead, not missing. Cops found the bodies of two of his guards on a riverbank as well as the bodies of his two brothers. This is big. It’s a fucking coup and we’re in a dangerous position because Gamboli and Mantini favored my claim to head the faction. Whoever is behind this is about to show his face and if he sides with Tony, we’re going to have to make some difficult decisions. I need my best men beside me.”

  “If we live that long,” Luca interrupted. “If Tony is made Toscani boss in Vegas, he’ll whack everyone who stood against him.”

  “You need a bodyguard, not an enforcer.” Rocco lit the cigarette and inhaled deeply, trying to get that nicotine down to the corners of his lungs.

  “I need you,” Nico said firmly. “But first I need to know what happened at the hospital.”

  “Dunno.” Rocco folded his arms across his chest. “I got a bad feeling about Mike’s girl when she called the cops on us outside the Stardust. Then she said something to Grace at Mike’s gym, turned her against me. I gave her details to Gabrielle and she figured Tiffany wasn’t who she said she was. When she told me she thought Tiffany was a career criminal from New York with Italian roots, and she worked at the hospital where Mantini was recovering, I went to check things out. All the guards were gone. I walked into Mantini’s room and Tiffany was there, doing something to the IV line with a needle. Mantini’s monitors were beeping and he looked okay, but I pulled my gun on her, told her to get away. She played it like she was scared, raising her arms, eyes watering. She was a good actress. So good I didn’t drag her out of there right away like I should have. Then the monitor went flat and an alarm sounded. She fucking smiled at me, and then she screamed. The staff were already coming down the hallway because of the alarm. I couldn’t get out. She told them she saw me doing something to Mantini.”

  Nico raised his eyebrows. “She lied.”

  “Yeah, she did. Just like she lied in the alley at the Stardust.” Rocco felt an unexpected burst of warmth in his chest. Nico believed him. No questions. No second thoughts. No long searching looks. No side glances to Luca. He believed him like he
had been a loyal member of his crew since the beginning, and not for the first time, Rocco wished he was.

  “You think maybe she realized she’d done something wrong and was trying to cover her ass?”

  Rocco shrugged, remembering Tiffany’s smile. “Or maybe she knew exactly what she was doing. Might be she worked for the same guy who sent the shooters to Carvello’s, and he sent her in to finish what they started.”

  He should have just done the job he was supposed to do and none of this would have happened. Mantini would be long gone, someone else would have stepped into his role, and Rocco would be going home every day to his cold, empty apartment waiting for the next call with the next contract or the address of the next two-bit criminal who needed a beat down. It wasn’t the life he would have chosen but it was a life in which he didn’t have to deal with all the fucking emotions that were threatening to tear him apart. And wouldn’t that have been better? No guilt or longing or desire. No love or the pain of loss. He would have been safe behind the walls he had built to protect his heart—the walls he needed now to get through the remaining time he had before Cesare came after him or he went back to prison.

  “Fuck.” He puffed on his cigarette, his nose wrinkling at the acrid fumes. Had his cigarettes always tasted like ashes? Or was it because Grace’s sweetness had tainted his tongue?

  He dropped his hand, letting the cigarette dangle. If he had done his job, he wouldn’t have had the last few weeks with Grace. He wouldn’t have held her in bed and watched her sleep. He would never have felt the connection between them snap back into place, shared those intimate moments, or heard her sing. He would never have played ball with her and the great little kid at the orphanage, never would have heard her laugh as she snatched the ball from his hands.

  Fuck. That orphanage. It had triggered a memory of the orphanage he’d been at before Cesare took him—a playground with a climbing frame, a slide, and a basketball court. Happiness. Friends. Laughter. He wished he could go back and tell himself to run when Cesare walked in the door. That he wouldn’t laugh again until Grace walked into his life.