Accidental Evils

by Susan Fanetti

  She wound her arms around his neck. “Can we take it day by day for a while longer? Until things settle down and we have a chance to talk more? Until we’re not so scared of what’s happening between us?”

  “Will you stay while we do that?”

  “I’d like that. I’m happier here with you, too.”

  He kissed her again, with obvious intent this time. When he broke for a breath, he pulled her close and murmured at her ear. “I don’t want to talk right now, though.”

  “Me either.”

  He took her hand and led her back to bed.

  ~ 23 ~

  The last half of the summer passed quietly in the Cove. Businesses that hadn’t been damaged were fully open again a couple weeks after the Ukrainians’ offensive in town, and some of the tourists and summer people came back, but it was not a good year for Quiet Cove. Even the Labor Day beach party was barely more than a local cookout.

  Tony had a close-up view to the trouble, since it was his job to make sure payments got made in town. Donnie had frozen vigs for every business in the Cove until further notice, and Tony had been the one to spread that news.

  It should have been good news—a relief in hard times. But Cove business owners had never been so uniformly and openly hostile to Pagano men in Tony’s knowing. They’d all banded together and decided as a team they were strong enough to complain and make demands. It was Pagano Brothers business that had brought the trouble to the Cove, which meant, in their minds, that Nick had fallen down on his first promise to the town: to protect it. So freezing the vig had been regarded as the very least they could do.

  Tony suspected the Chamber of Commerce had found its collective set of balls because it wasn’t Nick at the helm right now. Six weeks after the attack, he was only just getting ready to be released from the hospital, and it would be more time yet before he could return to his work. Donnie was still running the show, and he was preparing for the next offensive in the war. He didn’t have a lot of time to listen to complaints from the guy who ran the Ferris wheel.

  Tony got that heat. He was trying to be calm about it and not make bigger trouble for his family, and so far, he thought he was doing okay, acknowledging complaints but keeping firm, drawing solid lines around his limits. But this lull between storms was wearing him out. He wanted to fucking kill the Ukrainians, not listen to people whine about their suffering profits.

  Donnie and Angie had a plan brewing, and Tony had gotten some details—at least enough to know when and where they meant to end the war.

  January. In Ukraine.

  The holidays and the time of quiet would serve to dull Yuri Bondaruk’s senses, let him think he’d done more damage to the Paganos than he had. The Zelenkos were no longer Bondaruk allies, but they would use these months to cement the impression that they were, building up their new business partnership in Ukraine, which would strengthen their position when the Bondaruks went down and the Zelenkos took it all.

  By January, Nick would be strong enough to silence any questions about his ability to lead. When the team returned from Ukraine with Yuri Bondaruk’s head mounted on a plaque—figuratively speaking—and the Zelenkos aligned with the Romanos in business, that would be a flex even Sicily couldn’t disregard, and he’d be positioned to shape La Cosa Nostra to his will.

  These months also gave Donnie and Angie time to put this massive plan in place. It had a lot of moving parts and relied on a lot more outsiders than Nick usually liked. In fact, Tony wondered, to himself, whether this was a plan Nick would have devised, or if he would have approved it, had he been in a position to do so when Donnie set it in motion.

  For now, though, despite his denials, Donnie was don. In every way that practically mattered.

  Meanwhile, Tony focused on doing his job. Pagano Brothers Shipping ran as it always had. Most of the Pagano Brothers’ dark business was running, too, at Tony’s level. Protection was the only thing that had taken a noticeable hit, and that was self-inflicted, with Donnie freezing the vigs, and with the heavier presence of goombahs around town, like a secondary police force.

  Still, things were calm, and that was good. Personally, he liked the dearth of summer people clamoring all over the Cove like sand crabs. And he especially liked how many quiet hours he had at home with Billy. Lately, she’d been closing the club by midnight, because there weren’t enough patrons to stay open any later, and she was ready to lock up and go within an hour, sometimes half that. She was distracted and worried at work, but once he got her home, she relaxed, and he could make her happy.

  He thought he was in love with her. When she’d said those words to him, he’d felt them like a battering ram—they’d almost literally knocked his wind out. She hadn’t meant them the way he’d hoped, but there was hope. She thought she might love him. She was scared. So was he.

  No way he was saying the words first, though. He’d never said them at all to any woman but one he was related to, and he was not going to lay himself out like that. It had been enough to even ask the fucking question. She would have to come the rest of the way.

  He would, however, try to give her this. He got out of his car and headed up the walk to his parents’ house. He’d never brought a girl home before, and before he did, he needed to set some rules down for his folks.

  It was the middle of the day in the middle of the week, so only his mother was home. He’d planned it that way—knowing his old man was in the middle of a job, and Kiki was in Providence at work, he could get his mother alone and have something approaching a real talk.

  He opened the front door and was hit at once with the strong, pleasant scents of laundry soap and fabric softener, with an acrid undertone of bleach. Laundry day. The machines hummed busily, and the television chattered. Knowing his mother’s deeply entrenched routines, Tony went down at the split-level foyer instead of up.

  He found her in the family room, with a stack of ironing. The downstairs television was on, showing the game show channel.

  “Hey, Ma,” he said as he came down the stairs.

  “Antony!” She set the iron aside and came to him for a hug and a kiss. “You should’ve called, I’d’ve put something in for lunch. I can make you a sandwich, though. There’s roast beef left from your father’s lunch.”

  “It’s okay, Ma. I’ll get something later.”

  “There’s plenty of food here. I overbought the past couple weeks. I’m so glad Corti’s is open again. I hated driving all the way to Dave’s, and it’s just not the same. Matt always asks about the family, and knows exactly what cuts we like.”

  Christ the King and Corti’s Market had both reopened within a few weeks. For a minute, it had looked like Cover to Cover Books would stay closed indefinitely; Nick’s wife owned that, and Bev’s mind was elsewhere. But Pagano & Sons Construction, run by Nick’s cousins, had gone in and taken over the job for her. It had reopened last week.

  The only business still closed six weeks after the attack was Dominic’s, and there was talk that it wouldn’t reopen at all. Old Dom was already retired. He was old, and the hit, especially the loss of so many of his people, had broken his heart. He was thinking of selling the property, as is.

  That would be a hell of a blow. Dominic’s was an institution. The Ukrainians really had done a lot of damage to Nick and the things and people he cared about.

  The dryer buzzed the end of its cycle. Tony’s mom let him go and headed toward the laundry room, but Tony pulled her back. “I got it. Go back to what you were doing.”

  “Oh no. I need to put what’s in the wash in the dryer, and there’s another load waiting.

  “I got it,” he repeated.

  She lifted a skeptical brow at him. “Please?”

  “I can handle some laundry, Ma. I’ve been living on my own for twelve years. You think I haven’t done my own wash?”

  With a pleased smile, she went back to her ironing, and Tony went to empty the dryer and move the other loads. It was jeans in the wash and sheets wait
ing in a basket on the floor. No sweat.

  He brought out the basket of towels and set them on the well-used sofa. Trying to figure out how to bring up the topic that had him over here, he started to fold.

  When he was on his third towel, his mother stopped ironing and watched him. “Antony, I appreciate the help, and I love the company, but this is the first time I have ever seen you folding laundry. I know you didn’t come over to do that. What’s on your mind?”

  Thus pinned, Tony didn’t bother to squirm. “How would you feel if I wanted to bring somebody over for dinner some night?”

  She turned the iron off and faced him. “What kind of somebody are you talking about?”

  He folded another towel as he answered. “Somebody I’ve been seeing.”

  “A girl? Is it a girl?”

  Now he brought his eyes back to his mom. “Of course it’s a girl, Ma. I’m not gay. Jesus.”

  “Well, I ... you never talk about this kind of stuff, and you’re so angry all the time, I thought ... I don’t know what I thought. That your pop was keeping you from sharing that part of your life with us, maybe.”

  That was true, in part, but not because he was gay. Those few relationships he’d had, he hadn’t wanted to poison with his family’s toxic crap. He was more nervous than ever about bringing Billy here, but he wanted more with her, and that included the bad as well as the good. It helped that her family was a mess, too.

  Also, yeah, it was probably true that he was angry most of the time he was here. Or at least on guard and ready to be.

  When he was quiet, thinking, his mom added, “She must be the one, if you’ll bring her home.”

  He didn’t believe in ‘the one.’ Then again, he hadn’t really believed in love, either, so maybe. “She’s special, yeah. I don’t want him to be an asshole to her. Or to me, when she’s around. Or to anybody.”

  “Your pop is different than he used to be, Antony. He gets mad, sure, but he doesn’t do the things he used to do.”

  “Kiki called me here at the beginning of the summer, just a few months ago, because he’d gone off.”

  “She shouldn’t have, though. He broke some stuff. But he didn’t touch me, or her.”

  “He scared her enough for her to call me, Ma.”

  His mom sighed wearily and went back to her ironing. “It doesn’t matter that he tries to be better. You see who you want to see.”

  “So do you. You close your eyes, Ma. To what he does to you, or to us. You close your eyes and pretend. You always did.”

  She focused on her ironing and didn’t answer.

  Tony stopped folding. “Never mind. It was a stupid idea.”

  “No, honey. It’s a beautiful idea. I would love to meet this girl you like so much. I just need to think on it a little, about how and when to do it. Aurora’s baby’s due any time, now, too. There’s a lot going on in the family. It’s all good, it’s answered prayers, but I want to make sure we do it right.”

  Bringing Billy to his family required a strategy session.

  “Okay,” he said and picked up another towel.

  ~oOo~

  Bringing Billy to meet his family was going to be complicated. On the other hand, not much more than a week after Nick was back home from the hospital, Angie called Tony and reported that both he and Billy had been summoned to the don’s house.

  His first instinct was to wonder what he’d done wrong. But then he took a breath and knew Billy wouldn’t be invited if Tony had fucked something up.

  It was a social call.

  Tony had been invited to Nick Pagano’s house. With his woman.

  He wanted them there that afternoon. It was a Monday, so Billy had the day free. Well, not really free, but the club was closed on Mondays. She’d been to yet another Chamber of Commerce meeting, and had met with her attorney about business and family stuff. In fact, she was in a pretty terrible mood, and being summoned to Nick’s house hadn’t improved it.

  Tony parked outside the big, stately house, behind Mel, who was Nick’s new body man. A two-man team was parked at the entrance to the private street.

  They were hurting for security people and enforcers. Angie had been recruiting hard, but new blood could only rise so high.

  “You ready?” Tony asked.

  Billy studied the house. She was still dressed for her business meetings, in a sedate dark grey suit and a creamy silk blouse. “I don’t understand this. It’s two o’clock in the afternoon. What does he want?”

  “I don’t know. We’ll have to go up and see.” He opened the door and got out. Billy never let him help her out of the car, so they met on the sidewalk. She let him take her hand then, at least.

  Bev opened the door when Tony rang the bell. She looked much, much better than when he’d last seen her, at the spate of funerals. Then, she’d been pale and tired, and kind of gaunt. Now, she was fresh and bright-eyed and smiling. She was thinner than he’d ever remembered her being, though.

  “Hello, Donna Pagano,” Tony said at once. At his side, Billy held out her hand.

  Bev shook warmly and stepped back. “Hi, you two. Come on in.” A Golden Retriever was at her side, wagging his tail happily. He pushed in to get attention from the guests, but Bev grabbed his collar. “No, Snuggles. Don’t get your slobber all over everybody.”

  Bending to the dog, Bev waved toward the living room. “He’s in his office—through there, hang a right, to the double doors.”

  “Is he alone?” Tony asked. This felt surreal. The only times he’d been in this house before had been holiday parties, packed with people.

  “He is. But don’t—” Nick’s wife stopped and shook her head. Tony didn’t know what she’d decided not to say. “He’s waiting for you.”

  Tony took Billy’s hand and led her to Nick’s office. He knocked on the door.

  “Come,” Nick said from within. His voice was strong and familiar. Tony opened the door.

  The don was at his desk, a heavy walnut piece adorned with family photos. He was dressed casually, as far as Tony had ever seen him, in dark jeans and a green Oxford-cloth shirt, untucked.

  Tony hadn’t seen Nick since shortly after he’d been moved to a private room at St. Gabriel’s. He looked worlds better than he had that day, but his wounds and recovery had aged him dramatically. He was not a young man—in raw numbers he probably qualified as old—but he was strong and vigorous, and Tony had never thought of him as actually old.

  In these weeks, though, he had lost weight and strength. His hair, which had been dark but heavily greying, was now fully grey. He’d grown a beard, and it was nearly white. But the really shocking thing was when he stood from his desk—slowly—and grabbed a cane.

  He smiled. “Tony. Billy. Thank you for coming.”

  “Of course, don,” Tony answered at once.

  “Thank you for inviting us,” Billy added.

  He gestured to the seating area at the other side of the room. They followed his direction, and he followed them, leaning on that cane, moving slowly. Like an old man.

  Nick’s home office was not much different from his PBS office, except that it was a little brighter and a little more cluttered. The view was better, too. The French doors on the far wall opened onto his back yard, and the ocean beyond. Except for guard doing his rounds back there, the view was serene. At PBS, his view was the busy harbor.

  The furniture was traditional and masculine, heavy on leather and dark wood. The wall behind him was all built-in shelves, and these were much fuller of books than the shelves at PBS.

  They sat near an empty fireplace. Nick took a wing chair, and Tony and Billy sat together on a tufted leather sofa.

  “I called you here because I want to know more about your businesses. Both of you.”

  “I’m sorry?” Billy said. “I don’t understand.”

  Nick smiled. He might have weakened, and he might have aged, but that smile was the same eagle-sharp look he’d ever had. “Don’t you?”

  Bil
ly didn’t answer. But she leaned back and crossed her arms. Defensively.

  Nick turned to Tony. “Tell me.”

  Tony didn’t want Nick involved in his business any more than Billy wanted him in hers—but his business had benefitted from the fear in town, and possibly also from the changes Tim and Sonny had steamrolled through. They were moving into the black. “Coastal Ballistics and Self-Defense. It’s on Forecastle, just outside town. We’re doing good. Business is good.”

  “That’s where you train, right?”

  “Yes, sir. Several times a week.”

  “I want all the security men to get that training. We’re recruiting a lot of new guys, bringing men in from other areas, pulling associates up. I want them trained to do what you can do. Can you handle that?”

  Tony had a boulder in his throat. If Nick wanted to use CBSD to run all of Angie’s men through the basement training until they were good at it? That would cost a fucking fortune, and he had a sinking feeling Nick would expect Tony and his partners to eat that.

  He tried to swallow without showing his nerves. “Theoretically. It would take some time. The scenarios have to be reset after every run, and we use live ammo, so props get damaged and need to be repaired or replaced.”

  “I want a yes or no. Will that setup work to train my men to your skill level? Not in theory but in fact.”

  “Some depends on talent. But yes.”

  “And you are capable of doing that training? Yes or no.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I want to buy out your basement at CBSD. I had some numbers run.” He leaned forward—gingerly, clearly still protecting himself against pain—and lifted a manila folder from the low table between them. He pulled a folded sheet of plain paper from it, checked it, folded it again, and pushed it across the table to Tony. “The first number is for the first year’s rent on the space. The second number is the monthly rate for training, supplies, and maintenance.”