Rocco: A Mafia Romance (Ruin & Revenge)

by Sarah Castille

  “I love you. I’ve loved you since you were ten years old.”

  She looked back over her shoulder and a smile spread across her beautiful face. “I love you, too. But I suspect you’re just saying that to get an early present in case the wedding never happens.”

  Rocco chuckled. “It’s one hell of a gift, but I think I can make do.”

  Holding her tight, he flipped her to her front and pulled her to her knees, ass up, chest down. He sheathed himself quickly, then smoothed a hand over her beautiful ass before pushing into her slick, hot cunt, as far as he could go.

  Grace sucked in a sharp breath. “Rocco?”

  “Yeah.”

  “If we did get married, I want to be married outside and I want wildflowers at our wedding.”

  “Anything.” He pulled halfway out and then pushed in again, sliding his piercing along her sensitive inner tissue.

  She trembled. “And Italian food like my Mama used to make.”

  “I’ll fly a bunch of nonnas over from Italy.”

  “And after it’s over … if you did as I asked…”

  “My present?” He hammered into her with long, smooth strokes, driving them both to the peak.

  “Yes,” she gasped. “Your present.”

  His heart squeezed in his chest. “If we were to get married, bella, there would be no present better than you.”

  * * *

  “Safety Sam is your man. Catch a deal if you can.” Grace sang the jingle for the twentieth time, trying to put as much enthusiasm into the tune as she had the first few times. The studio producer was new and trying to make his mark by insisting on absolute perfection, but after nineteen takes she was ready to throw in the towel.

  “Can you bring the last note up a beat?” His voice grated through the headset.

  “You asked me to bring it down three takes ago.”

  “I’ve changed my mind. I think it was better on the upbeat.”

  She could hear groans from the sound room where the techs had been working just as hard as her to get it right. At least this contract paid by the hour instead of the fixed session fee she was used to—a mistake she was sure they wouldn’t make again.

  By the time she had something close to acceptable, it was well into the afternoon. Rocco had replaced the two Forzani guards with two of Luca’s soldiers, and they had switched shifts twice during her time at the studio.

  “Ready to go, Miss Grace?” The taller of the two jumped up when she walked into the hall, folding her union paperwork into her purse.

  “Yes. Finally. I never want to hear that jingle again. I’ll be catching my deals somewhere else.”

  They followed her down the hallway to the elevator, but as she reached for the button the doors slid open and Tom stepped out.

  “Tom!” She hadn’t seen him in over a week, not since the day their father passed away, although they had communicated briefly by text with respect to making funeral arrangements for their father when the autopsy was done. “I never expected you to come. You just missed the session.” She had invited him to sit in and see how the jingles were made, hoping to get a chance to talk to him alone without Tony hovering nearby. Rocco had come up with a plan to lure Tiffany into the open, but they needed Tom on board.

  “I was making arrangements to fly Papa back to New York when the autopsy is done. It took longer than I thought.” He ran a hand through his thick, dark hair, messing up the slicked-down style. His outfit—an ill-fitting dark suit, white silk shirt, thin black tie, and dark glasses—made him look like a caricature of a movie gangster, and she bit back a laugh. Sometimes she forgot he had only just turned twenty and was still hovering between boy and man.

  Grace peered around his shoulder. “Where’s Tony? I thought he was permanently attached to your side.”

  “I didn’t invite him.” He puffed out his chest. “I’m going to declare as the underboss after Papa’s funeral service. I need to be hiring my own men, handling things myself, not relying on the acting boss of an outlying faction. I need to be putting Tony in his place and telling him what to do instead of the other way ’round.”

  Grace lifted an eyebrow. Where had that come from? Tom had never been one to put people down, and she had never heard him be disrespectful of anyone in the family regardless of their rank.

  “Miss Grace, we should get going.” One of the guards gestured to the elevator, and they all squeezed inside.

  “So you escaped?” she asked Tom as the elevator doors closed. “You’re here without anyone protecting you?”

  “I wasn’t a prisoner. I was a guest. It was just safer to stay at Tony’s place because of the threat. But now that the De Lucchi bastard who killed Papa is in jail…” His voice cracked, and she put a hand on his arm.

  “You mean Rocco? He’s out on bail and he didn’t kill Papa. The nurse did.”

  “No.” Tom shook his head. “It was in the news. The nurse was a witness.”

  “Tom.” She swallowed hard. “It wasn’t Rocco. We don’t know who is pulling the strings, but we’re pretty sure the nurse pulled the trigger. We think she was at Carvello’s, too, and the only reason we’re not all dead is because Rocco saved us. If you’re telling people you intend to declare as underboss, then you’re still in danger. You shouldn’t go anywhere unprotected.”

  He sucked in his lips and looked away, a sure sign that he was rattled. “Well … you’ve got guards. Maybe we can grab a bite to eat and catch up. Tony didn’t tell me any of this. I’m head of the family now. I should know what’s going on.”

  She bit back a retort about him being head of the family. “That’s why I wanted to meet,” she said. “We have a plan to catch her, but we need your help.”

  “You’re involved?” His brow wrinkled in confusion. “I thought you hated everything to do with who we are.”

  The elevators slid open and the guards stepped out, checking the hallway before waving Grace and Tom to follow.

  “I’m not embracing the life, if that’s what you mean. But I’m not going to stick my head in the sand either. There is only one way to deal with this problem, and it’s the mob way. I’m going to take advantage of who we are and the power that we have and do what I need to do to keep the people I care about safe.”

  Tom’s eyes widened and he barked a laugh. “Who are you and what have you done with my anti-Mafia sister? Next you’ll be telling me you’re not anti-violence anymore.”

  “I have a lot to tell you.” A smile tugged at her lips. “And I know a nice Italian restaurant downtown where we can catch up. It’s called Il Tavolino. Luca Rizzoli owns it, so at least we know we’ll be safe.”

  “I was safe at Tony’s place,” he said, as they walked outside. “You wouldn’t believe how heavily guarded it is. When I go back to New York, I’m going to sell the house and get a place like Tony’s with high-tech security and lots of guards. And the girls…” His cheeks reddened. “He has a lot of parties and so many girls come. They’re … very friendly.”

  “I’m sure they are,” she said dryly.

  One of the guards snorted a laugh. “I’ve heard about Tony’s parties. They’re well-known and that’s saying something in Vegas.”

  “I met a girl…” Tom’s cheeks flamed, perking Grace’s interest. She had missed Tom’s foray into teenage dating, but she had never expected him to be shy when it came to the opposite sex. “She was at one of the parties. Her father is one of Tony’s soldiers. She’s…” He looked up at the guards and then leaned in to whisper as they exited the elevator. “She’s beautiful like Mama was, but blonde. And she’s sweet and nice. She knows who we are, and she’s okay with that. She was impressed when I told her I was going to be underboss.”

  “I’d like to meet her.”

  “You will.” A smile spread across his face. “I brought her with me. You can talk to her in the car on our way to the restaurant.” He straightened his spine and looked over at the guards. “You two can follow behind.”

  Grace g
rimaced at his officious tone and shot an apologetic look at the guards. “We’re going to Il Tavolino. Do you know where it is?”

  “Mr. Rizzoli’s restaurant? Sure do. We’ll be right behind you.”

  Tony opened the door to a black SUV parked beside the curb and Grace slid into the passenger seat as he ran around to the driver’s side door.

  “Grace,” he said, gesturing to the woman in the back seat. “Meet Tami.”

  * * *

  “What do you mean you lost them?” Rocco’s shout echoed through the Toscani family clubhouse. “Why the fuck wasn’t someone in the car with them?”

  Clearly distressed, the guard on the other end of the phone mumbled something about Tom declaring himself underboss and not wanting to disrespect someone in the administration. Reading between the lines, Rocco got the message. If Tom was the underboss, he outranked Rocco as a member of the De Lucchi crew, and his orders prevailed.

  “He’s not the fucking underboss. He’s a stupid kid. Jesus Christ. Where were they going?”

  “Il Tavolino, sir.”

  “Luca!” He yelled although Luca was no more than ten feet away, playing pool with Nico. “Call the restaurant. Tell them to call you right away if Grace walks in the door. She and Tom were heading there and never made it. Fucking stupid guards let them go on their own and lost them.”

  “What were they driving?” Rocco barked into the phone. “Don’t tell me you didn’t take down the license plate number.”

  “I’m sorry, sir…”

  “Vaffanculo!” His vision sheeted red, and his heart pounded so hard he thought he would break a rib. If the stupid fucking guards had been standing in front of him he would have ended their miserable lives and enjoyed every second doing it. “Find them or don’t bother showing your face again.” He smashed his thumb onto the screen, ending the call, and pressed Grace’s number. When he got her voice mail, he left a message, then sent a text before shoving the phone in his pocket.

  “Christ. How am I going to find her?” he muttered half to himself. “Everybody’s driving a fucking black SUV.”

  “You aren’t.” Nico put his cue into the rack. “But luckily you aren’t alone. You’re part of the Toscani family and we have your back, just like you’ve had our backs countless times. I’ll get every soldier and associate out on the street looking for them.” He turned to Luca. “Can Gabrielle track a car?”

  “Not quickly, and especially not without the license-plate number.”

  Rocco scraped a hand through his hair. “Tony will have the number. He might even have a tracker on the vehicle. He has as much interest in keeping them both alive as we do.”

  “So we’re going to work with Tony now?” Luca leaned against the pool table and folded his arms. “Never thought I’d see the day, but then I never thought I’d see our very own Frankie with a girl.”

  “They were last seen in a black Escalade heading north on the Las Vegas Freeway.” Rocco ignored the comment because if he didn’t find them fast, he wouldn’t have a girl. And if he lost her again … His stomach churned and he pushed the thought away. “I’ll call Gabrielle and see if she knows someone who can access the city cameras.”

  “We should get Mia involved,” Luca suggested. “She could use that trick they used to find Tom and track Grace’s phone. I’ll give her a call.”

  Rocco felt the smallest bit of tension ease. “Appreciated.”

  “Our resources are your resources. Our people are your people. Whatever you need to find her is yours.” Nico whipped out his phone. “I’ll set up that meet with Tony.”

  “It’s okay.” Rocco held up his hand. “I’m a De Lucchi. He’ll see me. No appointment required.”

  * * *

  “I thought you were in jail.” Tony leaned back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head.

  “I’m out on bail.”

  “Well, then you can’t be here to tell me you’re planning to come back and work for me because last I heard first-degree murder puts you away for a very long time.” He looked over at one of the guards standing by the door and smirked. Tony didn’t need to put on a show for Rocco, and as a result, he had only two guards in the room—one beside him and one at the door—instead of the usual four.

  Rocco forced his body into stillness. Only a short while ago he was looking forward to a life behind bars where he wouldn’t have to spend his days staining his already-tainted soul. But now that he had found Grace again, prison would be just another form of hell.

  “Wasn’t me.”

  Tony smirked. “They all say that.”

  “It was a woman. The nurse.”

  “Since when do women get involved in Cosa Nostra affairs?” His tone was mocking, but he had leaned forward slightly, and his dark eyes had widened with interest.

  “Since someone hired her to whack Mantini and his son.”

  “I thought that was your contract.”

  Rocco shrugged. “Apparently the person who contacted Cesare isn’t the only one who wanted Mantini dead.”

  “So why are you here?”

  “She’s got Tom and Grace. Tom was driving a black SUV. I assumed it was yours since he’d just come from you place.”

  Tony pushed his chair away from his desk and walked over to the wet bar in the corner. “Drink?”

  “No, thanks.”

  “I need a little something.” He lifted a bottle of whiskey. “It helps me think when unexpected gifts land on my doorstep.” He poured his drink and leaned against the bar. “You need my help.”

  “I need the license-plate number of the SUV.”

  “License-plate numbers are confidential information. How do I know you won’t misuse it? You’re asking me to take a risk. A considerable risk. I’ll need fair compensation.”

  Damn Tony, always angling for an opportunity. “You’ll get Tom back. He managed to escape from your fortress of solitude and steal a car. You’ll be able to start whispering in his fucking ear again about how you should be ruling Vegas.”

  Tony sipped his drink. “Or I let him get whacked and take a chance that this coup in New York results in a new don and underboss who are favorable to my claim.”

  “Didn’t work out so good for you last time. You were about to lose Vegas.”

  Tony nodded. “True. It was going to become a blood bath. I would have expressed my annoyance. Nico would have retaliated. New York would have sent some guys to help him out. There would have been more dead bodies. The FBI would have become involved. And we would all have wound up in jail together.”

  “So, you help me out,” Rocco said, standing. “I rescue them. I get the girl. You get the boy. You talk him around to your point of view…”

  “And Nico loses Vegas.” Tony swirled the liquid in his glass. “I like it, but I can’t see it happening. You’re Nico’s man. Why would he approve a plan that means he loses the thing he wants most of all?”

  “I’m a De Lucchi. We don’t get involved in political games.” Rocco dropped his hand to his belt beneath his jacket. He’d been relieved of his weapons when he entered the house, but not all weapons were easily seen.

  Tony snorted a laugh. “De Lucchis also don’t have relationships. They don’t go on rescue missions. They don’t save people. They don’t negotiate. They don’t have friends. You’re no more a De Lucchi than I am. You’re part of Nico’s crew, and that makes you enemy number one.”

  “Is that a no?”

  “You need me to spell it out? N.O.”

  In one swift motion, Rocco pulled out a knife and threw it, catching Tony in the upper quadrant of his chest. He was moving while the knife was in the air, and by the time Tony staggered back and the guard near the desk realized what was happening, he was behind Tony with a second knife at his throat.

  “You forgot one.” He yanked Tony’s arm back and he screamed in pain. “De Lucchis don’t take no for an answer. And neither do members of Nico’s crew.”

  TWENTY-SIX

  “I can’t be
lieve you.” Grace glared at her brother who was tied up beside her in the basement of an abandoned, unfinished hotel just off the Strip. The last rays of evening light shone through the tiny window fifteen feet above them, illuminating the otherwise dark space. “She’s so sweet and nice, he says. She’s just like Mama, he says. I want you to meet her, he says—”

  “Stop it, Grace.”

  “How could you possibly think she was the daughter of one of Tony’s capos? How many fair, blonde-haired, blue-eyed Italians have you met?”

  Tom’s jaw tightened. “It’s possible. With the right genetic mix…”

  “Did you ask your BFF Tony?” she spat out. “Did you say, ‘Hey, Tones. Which of your capos spawned the demon ice princess of hell?”

  “She didn’t act like a demon. She came across so … innocent.”

  “So did Norman Bates.”

  Tom huffed. “You don’t need to get nasty about it.”

  “I don’t need to get nasty about the fact that you were sleeping with the woman who killed Papa?” Her voice rose in pitch. “That you let her stroke your ego until it was so big you left a place of safety and thought you could swan around Vegas when you knew someone was after us? Do you know what she did to her last boyfriend?”

  Tom pressed his lips together and shook his head. “Don’t tell me.”

  “I am going to tell you so you realize just how lucky you are. She slit his throat while they were having sex. He was found by some guys in his crew naked with a condom in his hand, bleeding out all over the sheets. How’s that for nasty?”

  “Jesus Christ.” Tom snapped his legs together and grimaced. “It’s almost impossible to believe.”

  “What’s impossible to believe is how she shoved a gun against my skull and made you drive out here without those guards noticing what was going on.”

  “How could they follow us with all those twists and turns, back alleys drives and red light run-throughs?” He snapped. “She knows this city like the back of her hand.” He yanked against the ropes. “Fuck. I can’t believe I was taken in by a beautiful face and a sweet voice.”