Kingpin (An Italian Mafia Romance)

by Ws Greer

  “Well, I have to report to the hospital tomorrow now that I’m here,” I reply.

  “Okay, that’s cool. Just call me whenever you’re free.” Before he leaves, he gives me a River City business card that has his number on it, then he grabs my hand and brings it to his mouth, kissing it softly as he looks me in the eyes.

  I melt.

  Then he turns on his heel and walks away.

  I watch him until he turns the corner and is out of sight. I’m overcome with feelings of happiness, anxiety, joy, and fear. It’s a whole buffet of feelings that bring tears to my eyes without me being able to fully understand why.

  Once inside my amazing suite, I sit on my bed for fifteen minutes before I’m able to move. I have to take my time breathing all of this in. It’s like I’m right back in the ninth grade. Nothing has changed, even though everything has. There’s so much I don’t know, but the things I do know are enough for now.

  He’s even more perfect now than he was before I left, and this was the perfect beginning to my new life in St. Louis. I have a feeling there’s more nights like this just around the corner, and I couldn’t be more thrilled.

  He’s still perfect.

  He’s still Dominic.

  He quadruple-checks both nine millimeters to make sure everything’s good to go. The knife is there, too. The last thing Tommy needs is to get inside and find out he doesn’t have all the necessary tools to do the job.

  Everything’s good to go, so he slowly and quietly turns the knob. There’s an alarm system, but Charlie disabled that about sixty seconds ago, so Tommy doesn’t have to worry about cops showing up just because he opened the door.

  It’s dark inside. Luckily, Tommy’s been waiting outside the house in the dark for the past hour so his eyes are adjusted. He can see the end table sitting in front of him, waiting to tell on him if he hits it. There’s piles of clothes sprawled out on the floor that Tommy has to avoid just in case there’s something loud under them. He can also see the glass coffee carafe on the wooden table in the middle of the messy living room, and in the brown leather recliner next to the table is Alex Romanov. Abram Baskov’s right hand man.

  The fat fuck is lying there wearing a white tank top and basketball shorts, as if he’s ever played basketball or exercised in his entire fat life. Even in the dark Tommy can see the hair on his shoulders arching towards his back, covered in sweat and filth. Who would ever let this guy be their number two? Fucking Russians.

  There’s no kids in the house, because nobody would be desperate enough to fuck this pig and risk getting pregnant, and of course there’s no wife. Alex lives alone and always has. He’s had a rough life, growing up in foster care and all, but it doesn’t make Tommy feel bad. He doesn’t give a fuck about what kind of life Alex may have had leading up to this point, because it doesn’t change anything.

  Dominic called and pushed the button on Alex a few hours ago, so it is what it is. Tommy doesn’t question any of it, because Dominic is nothing if not calculated and smart. He doesn’t make a move without thinking about the next three. So, when Dominic told him he had the green light on Alex, Tommy knew the point behind it. Abram Baskov fucked up when he tried to get cute at the sit down. He didn’t realize that Dominic Collazo is a guy who always gets what he wants. You can fight and resist all you want, but eventually Dominic will outsmart you. He’s been involved in La Cosa Nostra his whole life, and sometimes people just have to learn the hard way. Which leads Tommy back to the glass carafe on the table.

  Tommy thought to hit Alex in the head with the butt of his gun, but he didn’t want to risk damaging his weapon on this sloppy fucker’s skull. Tommy loves his two nines too much to take such a risk. So, he inches his way over to the table and grabs the carafe. Alex’s snores are loud and disgusting, and he never knows what hit him as the carafe connects with his face and glass goes flying everywhere.

  Alex clutches his face in pain, and yells in terror, so Tommy punches him in the mouth to shut him up, then throws his fat body down to the floor. There’s blood gushing from one of the many wounds on Alex’s face, but Tommy’s not sure which one as he leans forward so Alex can see him. Alex is covering his face with his hands because of the glass that is surely lodged in his skin, so Tommy has to get his attention.

  “Hey,” he says. Alex tries to look at him through his fingers, but there’s too much blood. “Hey!” Tommy snaps. Alex pulls his hands away from his face and they finally make eye contact.

  Alex recognizes him, and his body goes numb with paralyzing fear. He knows what’s about to happen, and he knows there’s nothing he can do about it.

  Tommy can see the fear in his eyes and it makes him smile. Russian mafia background or not, you don’t fuck with the Giordano family. You don’t fuck with Dominic Collazo.

  Tommy reaches into his jacket and removes one of his trusty nine millimeters from its shoulder holster. He makes Alex watch him as he slowly chambers a round, screws the silencer onto the barrel, and aims the pistol at his chest.

  “No hard feelings, Alex,” Tommy says. “It ain’t your fault Abram’s an idiot.”

  “Fuck you!” Alex screams at the top of his lungs. He’s determined to go out like a soldier.

  Tommy is almost impressed.

  “Good night.”

  Tommy pulls the trigger three times and the nine kicks back, but the silencer does its job and suppresses the noise. Alex’s body jolts from the impact of the three rounds to the chest, then it’s forever still.

  He’s gone, but the job isn’t finished yet. Dominic wants the message to Abram to be loud and clear. So, Tommy removes the knife from his jacket pocket and kneels down next to Alex’s lifeless body. He’ll have to get rid of this fat fucker ASAP, but not before cutting off every finger on Alex’s hand—the same hand he used to point that gun at Dominic underneath the table.

  It’s gruesome, but Tommy’s wearing gloves and doesn’t mind a little blood. It comes with the job. As long as the message is received, Tommy’s happy. So, he’ll be sure to deliver the message—all five parts of it—to Abram Baskov’s mailbox first thing in the morning.

  Dominic

  It’d been a few days since I had dinner with Alannah at River City. She had work stuff to tend to, and I had business that needed my attention, so when she finally called this morning, I nearly jumped out of bed to answer the phone. She told me she’d be free later in the day after she got off her shift, and asked if I wanted to hang out again. I said “fuhgeddaboutit,” which confused her until I explained what I meant, then I made a call to my staff at Isle of Capri and reserved my favorite outdoor table for a candle lit dinner. Now, as I stand in the lobby of River City waiting for her to come down, my belly is doing summersaults. With all the things I do in my life that should make me nervous, it’s the thought of being with Alannah Sullivan that does me in.

  I feel like I’m living in a fucking alternate universe. I don’t even know how all of this came to be. One minute, I’m doing business as usual, the next minute, Alannah is back in St. Louis and here to stay. She’s actually here! It’s been ten years, and the only woman I’ve ever loved has come back into my life. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve such a thing, but I’m thankful. With Alannah being here now, I have everything a man could want. All the power and respect my dad commanded now belongs to me, and once I wrap up my acquisition of Lumiere Place, I’m going to be good to go. I’ll be able to sit back and relax while my businesses make money for me, and I’ll have Alannah to relax with. Just one more deal to go.

  Speaking of Lumiere Place, it’s been quiet on that front ever since I sent Tommy to pay Alex Romanov a little visit. Tommy made ole’ Alex disappear, but not before delivering a little package to Abram on my behalf. It’s no surprise Abram’s been quiet. It usually takes guys a couple of days to get their affairs in order before they move on from a business, especially one as lucrative as the Lumiere. So, while Abram fights over the mental hurdles of accepting the inevitable, I wait p
atiently, and I watch in awe as Alannah struts her way towards me wearing the sexiest navy blue dress I’ve ever seen.

  Her brown hair flows and sways gracefully behind her as she walks, and I see other guys in the lobby checking her out. I have half a mind to put one of these boys in a chokehold, but I resist the urge. I’d hate for Alannah to think less of me.

  “After all this time, you’re even more stunning than before you left,” I manage to say as she approaches. Her smile is wide and sincere, and I have to shake off the fact that it makes me more nervous. I did a good job of playing it cool at dinner last time, and I’ve got to keep it up.

  “Thank you, Dominic,” she replies. “You look very handsome. That’s a gorgeous suit. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a gray one with red pinstripes before.”

  “Well, I know a guy, and he hooks me up with whatever colors I want,” I answer, making sure not to go into too much detail about some of the places we extort. What can I say? A captain has to earn.

  “So, where are we going?” she asks.

  “I’ve got a place in mind. Shall we?”

  I lead her to the car, and she marvels at the metal flake paint on my BMW that shifts from black to dark purple, depending on the angle you look at it from. As we drive, I can’t stop my eyes from wandering over to her legs as they stick out of the dress, teasing me, forcing me to reminisce about homecoming night. Fuck how uncomfortable it was in that car, being with her was amazing. Images of that night flash across my vision like a slideshow on fast forward, and I really have to focus just to get us to Isle of Capri without crashing.

  Once we’re inside and seated, I see Alannah checking out the décor of the fancy outdoor setup. Well, it’s kind of outdoors—there are five tables in a glass enclosure that gives you a nice view of the busy street. Yellow and white lights hang from the ceiling, and there are roses and lilies in decorative glass vases on each table. This little section is made for the high rollers who reserve it, and people have to call months in advance to book it. Tonight, I made sure the place was empty just for us.

  “So, how has work been so far?” I ask to start up the conversation.

  “It’s been okay. Paperwork and training. New girl stuff. How was your day?”

  “My day was fine. I was excited to get to hang out with you again. I’m still trying to convince myself I’m not dreaming about you being here.”

  “I know, it’s hard to believe for me, too,” she says, sipping her white wine. “So, how’s your mom been doing? I was so shocked that you still had my letter that I forgot to ask about her last time.”

  “I haven’t talked to her in a while,” I admit, although I hate that it’s true. “We haven’t been as close as we used to be since dad died. I don’t think she likes that I got into the same business as him. She always wanted me to avoid it, but once dad died . . . that just wasn’t something I could do.”

  “I see. That’s too bad. Did they ever find the guy that . . . you know.”

  I don’t know how to answer the question. Even mentioning Sammy Cestone, the man who killed my father, still makes my blood boil even though I know he’s gone. So, I end up going with the default answer.

  “Nah, they didn’t.”

  But I did.

  After my father’s murder, I think I went crazy for a little while. I couldn’t stand to see him like that—slumped over in his seat with bullet holes in his face, and it took everything in me to get over it. I didn’t really get there until the day Sammy Cestone went to Australia.

  I waited a year before I let myself act on the revenge I was aching for. I was a blood-thirsty sixteen year old looking to make a name for myself—a name better than Boy Wonder.

  So, I stepped in my father’s place at River City just as a plan was put in place to add a new parking area across the street. The day before the parking lot was to be poured, I met Sammy Cestone at his house after he dropped off his son at school. I’d been watching him do the same routine for two weeks straight, and I knew when I walked into his run down little apartment, he’d be all alone. I shot him in the face with one of my dad’s guns. Three shots, just like what he did to my father. Then I buried his body in the spot where the concrete for the parking lot was poured the next day. So, Sammy went to Australia, meaning he is literally down under. I take pride in the fact that I get to drive by his permanent grave on my way to River City, where I stay in the penthouse suite on the top floor. They never found Sammy, and they never will.

  “So, what about you, Alannah?” I start again, making sure to quickly move on from the topic of Sammy Cestone. “Be honest; what made you decide to come back here after all this time? Alaska too cold for you?”

  “Yeah, it was, actually,” she says behind an adorable giggle. “It’s cold as hell there, but like I told you before, I never wanted to leave St. Louis.”

  “There’s more to it than that. You were gone for ten years, you went to college and got a degree, you already had a nursing gig, and you said you were dating even though it was nothing serious. So, why uproot your life to come back to St. Louis? I really wanna know.”

  She hesitates to think. I don’t know what the answer is, but I know what I’m hoping for, and maybe that’s a bit crazy. Maybe it’s naïve of me to think she came back here for me after a decade. Then again, I was still thinking about her after ten years, so it’s not impossible. I wait impatiently, sipping my wine so I don’t look so anxious.

  “Okay,” she says after a big, deep exhale. “I came back because I never wanted to leave . . . and because I needed to know what happened to you. There was a lot of stuff on the news about the FBI and St. Louis PD cracking down in the city, and I saw a lot of names popping up about people being either murdered or thrown in jail for long stretches. But I never heard anything about you. I didn’t know if you were alive or dead, and I kept thinking about it. I left when I was fifteen, and the feelings I had for you at that time have never been matched by anything I felt for anybody in Alaska. Anchorage is a nice place, but I felt like something in my life was unfinished. So, when the opportunity to get a nursing job presented itself, I took a shot, and I got it. So, here I am.”

  I’m a made guy—someone to be feared and respected. I’m not supposed to feel whatever emotions I feel right now, but they’re here. Everything she just said is exactly what I was hoping for. All the women I’ve hooked up with over the years have been one night stands and meaningless situations I never cared about. I never gave them anything real because of who I am and what I do, but also because everything I had to give, I gave to Alannah when I was fifteen.

  “Wow, that’s deep,” I say, doing my best to stay cool.

  “Maybe it is,” she continues with a serious expression on her flawless face. “But I’m not going to lie to you, Dominic, I learned about the Giordano family and how it works. There was a lot out there on the news, and I learned a lot about the kind of stuff you do.”

  “Well, I’ve always been honest with you about the things my father and I used to do,” I chime in, whispering, just in case there’s ears in the room. You never know.

  “I know, and it never bothered me when we were kids because you were always nice to me. You always made me feel special, even when you were scaring the shit out of the other kids. But now that we’re grown and I know what your family does to make money, it scares me, Dominic.”

  “Hey, you don’t ever have to be afraid with me, Alannah.”

  “How can I not be? You’re a part of what the cops call the mafia. That’s scary shit, and I know you own casinos and they make legit money, but is that all there is to it? I mean, what else do you do?”

  “Ninety percent of the money I make is legit from the casinos I own, the other ten percent is small time stuff that I started when I was younger. It’s just business.”

  “Business,” she repeats as a statement. “Do you hurt people?” she whispers as she leans in so I can hear.

  “Do I hurt people? No,” I answer. It’s true, I don’t h
urt people.

  Tommy does.

  When I tell him to.

  “Have you ever killed anyone?”

  I feel my face immediately heat up like I’m hovering over a stove. I’ve never felt the need to lie about anything I do—except to the cops—but if something I say pushes Alannah away, I’ll be devastated. I wrestle with how to answer, but Alannah saves me from having to make a decision.

  “Don’t answer that,” she interrupts. “I’m not even sure I want to know. Look, I just want to know if there’s anything I need to be worried about. I don’t want to be arrested for aiding and abetting, or harboring a fugitive, or some shit like that. I don’t want any drama.”

  I start to laugh.

  “Geez, I’m not a fugitive, Alannah, relax. There’s no warrants out for my arrest, and I’m not under investigation for anything illegal. You’ve known me since I was eleven years old, and you know I’ve always been honest with you. I’m telling you, you don’t have anything to be worried about. I promise.”

  She looks at me like she wants to believe me, but it’s hard. That’s understandable, I guess, especially if everything you think you know was told to you by the news and police reports. I try to look her in the eye so she knows I’m not lying, but when I do, something behind her catches my attention.

  On the street behind Alannah, I see a black SUV parked next to the curb. It wouldn’t normally be a big deal, except you can’t curbside park in this area, and the vehicle has its headlights on.

  How long has that been sitting there?

  As questions start to swirl in my head, the SUV turns on its high beams, shining blinding light right into my face. I can’t see much, but I notice the obvious silhouette of a person speed-walking up to the window behind Alannah, and I know what it looks like when a pistol is being pulled out and aimed.

  I jump to my feet and grab Alannah by the shoulders just as the first shots ring out. The room is quickly filled with loud popping sounds and glass exploding all around us. I drag Alannah to the floor and climb on top of her to shield her body as the shots continue and bullets whiz over our heads. I can hear screaming coming from inside the restaurant and dishes being knocked over as people duck for cover, and the bullets slice through the drywall. Alannah screams underneath me, and my heart is pounding nearly loud enough to drown it all out.