Rough Diamond (A Mafia Romance)

by Knight, Leslie

  Rough Diamond

  by

  LESLIE KNIGHT

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  Published 2017

  Copyright © Leslie Knight 2017

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  The Individual(s) displayed on the cover are models and only used for illustrative purposes. This is a work of fiction and any resemblance of the characters to real life names or events are purely coincidental. All characters in this story are 18 years of age or older.

  Rough Diamond

  CONTENTS

  - Part One -

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  - Part Two -

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Chapter Twenty Three

  - Part Three -

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  - Epilogue -

  PART ONE

  - 1 -

  Chloe

  It started by accident really, like everything seemed to in her life. But if Chloe ever told that to anybody they probably wouldn’t believe her.

  She looked at her little work corner and all the things she’d made, and couldn’t help but be proud. She’d been doing crochet for about two years and found it amazing sometimes how far she’d come and all the skill she’d acquired. That she was actually making over a hundred bucks a week with her hobby was just incredible.

  She supposed she was good at looking after the here-and-now but as far as making any solid plans for the future or even for a couple of weeks in advance, that just sent her into a spin. She’d stumbled into selling her pieces online and it was only recently she’d decided to make it a long term thing.

  She looked with satisfaction to the shelf with her three latest pieces, a pair of tiny, pink Converse booties, an owl tea-cozy and a unicorn hat for a little girl in Denmark. At the moment she made almost ninety percent of her sales online and was posting stuff all over the world from her small apartment in Norwood, just outside Ithaca.

  She’d already worked out the postage for the three pieces and had it all written down along with the personalized notes she sent with each delivery. She’d pack up everything properly and bring them to the post office tomorrow.

  “A little personal touch really helps to generate return business Jackson” she directed at the cat circling her legs, and who appeared eager to do battle with another wriggling strand of wool.

  It sounded obvious but it was just another one of the things she was learning at night school. If it was ever going to turn her business into something more serious she had to level up and improve her online marketing skills. As strange as it all was it did feel like her life was finally heading in a discernable direction.

  Maybe that’s just the way it was with everybody, she mused. Eventually all the random stuff develops some kind of pattern and pushes you in the direction you always wanted to go in anyway. As long as you keep doing the right things and working hard you end up in the place you deserve to be.

  Her fingers were already fidgeting again, eager to be occupied with something. It always went like that when she was nervous or anxious or had too much going on in her mind, which seemed most of the time anyway. That’s how she’d fallen into crochet in the first place.

  It was strange how things progressed, one thing led to another and lately she had even begun to dream of owning her own craft shop. But actually having such a big plan for the future was far too stressful to think about most of the time and she was much happier just working with the hook and wool and seeing her creations take shape.

  A part of her wanted to build a nest on the sofa, or even better in her bed, where she could binge watch some series while making progress on the next order, a pair of green, white and orange mittens for a little girl in Ireland.

  “No, Chloe – you have to get out and meet more people. You made a promise to Abbie, remember. And Jackson will be fine here on his own for a few hours, won’t you killer?”

  She bent down and ran her hand along the silky, black and white fur of his lean body and smiled as he dug his head in towards her leg again in a sign of playful affection.

  Abbie was a good friend and if it wasn’t for her Chloe would probably have just spent most of her time socializing with the same few people. At least when she went out with Abbie she always met someone new.

  Not that she never met new people. As far as she was concerned she met too many people through her few small jobs. Between the hours waitressing at Bunk’s Diner, the occasional promotion work she got and helping out at the adult education center she met more than enough people, thank you very much, just never anyone who seemed to have the inclination to ask her out on a date. That’s what tonight was about.

  Maybe that’s why everyone thought she was so organized. They took her industrious scatter-gun approach to life and mistook it for organization. A hard working young girl who’d stayed in town to look after her father after her mother’s tragic death.

  The reality was very different and it was only lately since her online store had started to do so well that she’d been able to move out of home and afford her own place. Her dad was more able to look after himself now and it was only really in the last few months that she felt as if her life was finally beginning.

  “I suppose at twenty five it was about time, wasn’t it Jackson?”

  Jackson meowed quietly in agreement and then padded quickly away, distracted by some sound or smell beyond Chloe’s senses. A couple of seconds later her phone vibrated and Abbie’s name flashed up on the display.

  “Abbie baby, are you giving me the early poke?”

  “Have you doused your skin with expensive perfume and wrapped yourself in furs and silks and lace? I know all your tricks Chloe-bee and you will not talk yourself out of a night on the town with me!”

  Abbie did amateur dramatics in her spare time and also volunteered to be in any film project going in Ithaca. She loved to display her rich, vibrant voice but had pretty much given up any hope of ever being a professional. Chloe loved to listen to her linguistic acrobatics when she was in a giddy mood, even if it could be a little overwhelming at times.

  “I’m getting ready now, I swear. I just finished my orders and am going to give Jackson something to eat and then I’m loading up the makeup gun.”

  “Set phasers to stun, no scratch that, deadly. Ultimate vamp, femme-fatale sex-lioness über-queen from another dimension! I will not be happy until at least one guy swoons before your dazzlingness tonight!”

  “Dazzlingness?”

  “Yes, dazzlingness, don’t be a word Nazi. I will be there in one hour and you better be ready or I’ll b
e dragging you out in whatever pair of pajamas you have on.”

  “Ok, yeah, fine, I’ll be ready then. I wanna go out and everything but don’t wanna get too drunk like last time, you’re a bad influence on me.”

  “Hey, hang on a moment,” replied Abbie, a slight hurt tone creeping into her voice. “What you drink or how much is up to you, don’t put that on me, you’re an adult.”

  “Yeah, I know, sorry. It’s just, I dunno, sometimes I just really want to have a good time and relax and not go too far so someone has to end up minding me. I just never seem to find that happy balance, I’m either too uptight or..”

  “Or you turn into a sex ravenous hell cat! You gave that last guy no chance to say no at all.”

  “Yeah, yeah, thanks for reminding me. I do not want another episode like that. Absolutely no more one-night-stands in my life, or maybe I should just say no more alcohol-fueled one-night-stands.”

  “Sober one-night-stands all the way from here on out.”

  “Well, moderately sober at least.”

  “Excellent,” exclaimed Abbie in delight down the phone. “That’s our catchphrase for tonight, moderately sober one-night-stands for one and all.”

  “Don’t you dare Abbie, I know what you’re like, don’t go spreading that around tonight!”

  “Don’t worry about it slutty pants, I’ll be over in a while yeah? We can have a couple of drinks before venturing out and finding a couple of like-minded moderately sober guys to treat us like royalty.”

  “Right, see you in a while then. You’re impossible you know that?”

  “I will bring vodka!”

  Then she was gone and Chloe put down her phone. She couldn’t help the exasperated smile on her face. Abbie’s humor was just infectious and she always put her in a good mood. She knew it was mostly a front and Abbie battled with her own insecurities but she hid behind such a confident and funny persona.

  She already had an idea of how the night would go. If any guys approached them it would either be because they’d seen her across the room and thought she was just pretty enough but not so intimidating to approach. Or else they’d be amused by Abbie’s dramatic modulating voice and extravagant hand gestures.

  Whatever the reason, they’d soon realize that she was the boring, uptight one and turn their attention to Abbie as she told one of her funny stories. They’d hang around for a while and be friendly but would eventually move on to target some other better looking girls once they’d tanked themselves up with enough beer courage. That’s the way it had been the last couple of times anyway.

  She walked into her small bedroom to pick out something to wear and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She didn’t look too bad she supposed, her blonde hair could be a little lighter and she didn’t like her long jawline. But she did have a nice smile at least, that came from her mother.

  As usual when thoughts of her mother intruded she had to push them quickly to the side before she became maudlin. There was nothing to be done about it apart from trying to always move forward and make the best life she could for herself. At least her dad appeared to be over the worst of his grief and she didn’t worry about leaving him alone so much anymore.

  The main problem was she was just too nervous and fidgety especially when she met someone new and it was even worse when she met someone new that she liked. Then she drank too much to try and relax and that’s when things really went downhill.

  If only she could just find that happy medium, that nice fuzzy, moderately sober area where she was just drunk enough to be at ease. It was a constant struggle for someone who was naturally anxious.

  It would be so nice to stay at home and play with Jackson and maybe find some new crochet patterns online. She’d been getting lots of requests for Pokemon characters lately. It was tempting to live like a hermit but that’s why she was so grateful to have Abbie as a friend, without her she would probably only retreat more and more from the world.

  She opened the closet and then came the next challenge of the evening. What could she wear to actually disguise her totally boyish figure? Sometimes she thought that whoever had been handing out curves had been on a break when she was being put together for delivery into the big bad world.

  She suppressed a sigh and started flicking through her tops, looking for something that would at least give the illusion of structure or weight to her flat chest. She’d become good at suppressing disappointment and moving forward, but it didn’t stop her hands fidgeting and the creeping tension between her shoulder blades.

  Jackson reappeared from his secret mission and hopped up on the bed to observe the human he allowed to think had him as a pet. Chloe pulled out a tight sunset-red shirt with high cut off sleeves and extra pleating across the chest.

  “What about this one Jackson, I can show off my crochet muscles a bit, but do you think the color is a bit too desperate?”

  She did a couple of bodybuilder poses and grimaces for Jackson’s benefit while he looked on impassively. He meowed inscrutably in response and she bent down to give him a quick scratch behind the ears.

  “Maybe we should both have a snack before Abbie gets here and starts forcing vodka down our throats. Then I’ll have a shower and start working on the mirage of my attractiveness.”

  Jackson’s ears perked up at the word snack and he followed Chloe back towards her small kitchen to be served his supper.

  - 2 -

  Vladek

  Vladek didn’t like it, he didn’t like it one fucking bit. He’d pulled off the road to take the call once he’d seen Dimitri’s name flash on his phone, a sudden knot twisting in his gut. He knew it meant trouble and what he’d heard didn’t change his mind.

  Dimitri had been friendly of course, charming, and he’d made the whole reason for the call seem casual. But Vladek knew Dimitri too well and knew there was trouble coming his way. They were in town for the night, him and Nick, so they thought they’d look him up. There was an opportunity for him, something to discuss.

  He’d let the engine run during the call and its low heavy rumbling brought him back again to the present. The car was his pride and joy and in some way it was a reminder to him that with constant work and dedication he could build something perfect in his life.

  It was a 1968 Ford Mustang and he’d spent over a year restoring it in every spare moment. He loved cars, they seemed to be the one constant passion in his life, perfect mechanical marvels that could always be relied on, once they were looked after and treated with respect.

  He liked his new life and his new routine far away from all the shit he left behind in NYC. The city had chewed him up and spat him out and he’d learnt his lesson.

  He liked his new life working for Mirko on the building projects in Ithaca and the surrounding towns. Hard physical work, low key, no bullshit. Most of the time he was so exhausted by Mirko’s punishing schedule that he had no energy left to even think about getting in any trouble. But that was just what he needed, one year locked up had been enough to scare him straight.

  Now he had his car, the occasional hunting and fishing trips with Mirko and once in a blue moon a quickly regretted blow out in one of the bars in town.

  He used to think he was such a badass when he’d been nothing but a dumb young punk. He thought he’d been on the way to becoming a proper gangster, thought that’s what he wanted. But really, he’d been nothing but another production line goon, an expendable nobody. His employers hadn’t cared, they’d just left him spinning in the breeze when he’d been picked up with the truck of counterfeit perfume.

  It had been a hard lesson to learn, just how little they gave a shit about him. He never should have stayed in contact with any of those guys, if he’d had sense. But sense was apparently still something he hadn’t mastered. Now some of the old crew were in town and wanted to meet up, the whole thing stank.

  He tapped out a cigarette and sparked it up before rolling down the window and killing the engine. He pulled the smoke deep into his
lungs, enjoying the acrid taste and the quick buzz that fired in his brain.

  Just meeting up with them couldn’t do any harm, could it? He didn’t have to get himself involved in their scheme. And he had history with those guys, they’d all gone through the home at some point, St. John’s. What a place that had been, a real mafia academy. He still couldn’t believe the authorities hadn’t shut it down.

  There were no other cars on the road and the only sound came from the breeze in the trees and the occasional shrill cry of an unseen bird. He wished he knew more about such things, wished he could recognize each bird from just their call. The longer he spent away from the city the more he appreciated nature.

  The hunting trips with Mirko were exhilarating and he loved it when his boss turned those intense grey eyes on him and suggested they take another one together. Growing up he’d always got a thrill from scrapping on the streets, it had even been encouraged in St. John’s to settle arguments with fists.

  But it was a much more satisfying thrill out in the wilderness, tracking a wild creature in its natural habitat. It made him appreciate what he ate a lot more as well and he’d cut down his meat intake. He’d rather eat wild or organic meat less often and enjoy it than the meat of some creature that lived its whole life in a warehouse.

  He was done with the city, he was never going back. Whatever offer the boys had or whatever they were trying to get him involved in, he wasn’t interested. He was different now, he was finally beginning to find his place in the world and they weren’t going to drag him back down into the pit.

  “Fuckers don’t know who they’re dealing with,” he said out loud, before firing the V8 engine roaring back to life. He changed directly into second and holding his left foot across both the clutch and brake mashed his other down on the gas pedal. The car bucked and strained as the revs increased and when he released the pedals the car shot out like a rocket, spraying up a cloud of grit and dust.

  He gripped the wheel tight as he flew down the deserted tree-lined road. It took him a few minutes to calm down and only then did he reduce his speed back down to the limit.