Accomplice: A Dark Mafia Romance (Romano Brothers Book 3)

by Samantha Cade

  Harley blinks, frozen in place.

  “Leave!” I roar.

  Harley cowers back, holding her hands defensively in front of her. She straightens her spine, then gets into the elevator. Before the doors close, she says, “Fuck you.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  ————————

  Harley

  I ball my eyes out on my way to work. I sob loudly, knowing Old Clunker is the only one who can hear my wails. How can this be happening? Not long ago, I was as happy as I ever was with Vince, and he seemed to really care about me. As crazy as it seems now, I really thought I had a future with this mobster. None of this seems real. His coldness this morning, his sloppy, drunken words, it all feels like a bad dream. I desperately wish it was.

  My face is a mess when I walk into the precinct, but I don’t care. I wipe my eyes with a tissue as I walk to my desk, avoiding making eye contact with anyone. I can feel Walter staring at me from across the room. I know what he’s thinking. It was a bad choice to get with a guy like Vince, and now I’m facing the consequences. I turn on my computer and pull up some paperwork, hoping that will keep Walter from talking to me.

  “Redding,” Chief Rodel barks.

  I snap my head towards him. He recoils at the wet, red state of my face, then awkwardly clears his throat.

  “I need to see you in my office,” he says.

  He’s probably going to tell me I’m not in the right emotional state to go on my patrol. As I stand from my desk and walk to his office, no one looks at me, but it feels like they’re paying attention to my every move. Do they know something I don’t?

  “I’m having a family problem,” I explain as I enter Chief Rodel’s office. “I’ll get myself together before going on my beat.”

  “Have a seat,” he says.

  Chief Rodel avoids my gaze. He keeps clearing his throat like it’s some sort of nervous compulsion. He drums his fingers on the desk, then forces his lips into a brief smile.

  “Officer Redding, everyone here truly appreciates your value and contribution to the precinct. Unfortunately, I’m going to have to ask you to tender your resignation.”

  “Resignation?” I clutch my stomach, like I’ve just been punched in the gut. “What? I don’t understand.”

  “Please,” he says, appealing to me with his eyes. “It’s better we don’t talk about this in much detail. You and I both know what this is about.”

  I nod, blankly. So it’s all come to a head. They found out I’ve been sniffing around. But I’m not going to go that easily. I shake my head.

  “Why don’t you clear it up for me?” I demand.

  Chief Rodel sighs with exasperation. “You’re getting the easy way out, Redding. Take it.”

  “I’m being forced to resign for doing my job? Something no one else around here is willing to do?” My voice grows louder with every word. This day could not get any worse. I’m tired of this shit.

  “Don’t make a scene, okay?”

  He loosens the tie around his neck. I used to have respect for this man. Now I see him for what he really is. I notice the fancy watch on his wrist. Lying in bed with criminals must be very profitable for him. I stand from my chair so quickly he cowers back.

  “You are a spineless coward,” I say, leaning over his desk. “You’re a disgrace to the uniform you wear.”

  He looks at me with a straight lined smile and opens his hand over the desk. "Your gun and badge."

  I slam both down, jostling everything on his desk, then storm out. Outside of the office, Walter is waiting, his face deep with concern.

  “What happened?” Walter asks.

  “I just got fired for doing my job.” I cover my face as tears fall from my eyes. Everything is ruined.

  Walter purses his lips, nods, then opens the door to Chief Rodel’s office.

  “What are you doing?” I say.

  I watch through the window as Walter hands Chief Rodel his badge. They exchange a few words, then Walter turns and walks out.

  “Why did you do that?” I ask.

  “We’re partners,” Walter says. “I’m standing by you.”

  Together, we walk out of the precinct to where I’ve parked Old Clunker. The sun is bright and warm, and seems to mock my failure. A swirling ball of anxiety forms at the base of my spine. What do I do now? Where will I go? Unit A is all I’ve thought about for months now, and the chances of accomplishing my goals are obliterated. Not only that, I’ve taken Walter with me. I look at my partner beside me and bite my lip, fighting the tears. My fingertips tingle with a sudden urge to take everything out on him. I ball up my fists and bang them against his chest.

  “You shouldn’t have done that,” I yell. “You were so close to retirement. What were you thinking?”

  Walter grabs my wrists in a surprisingly strong grip.

  “It’s my decision to make, not yours.” He pauses, his face long and forlorn. “I had to quit, Harley. I couldn’t do it anymore, wear that uniform that’s been corrupted by generations of lies. I can’t bide my time until I can sit on my ass and receive my pension check, paid for with human lives. I can’t do it anymore. And if anyone understands, it’s you.”

  I back away from him, feeling numb, spent. Of course I understand. I would’ve done the same thing in his position. But I can’t access that empathy right now. It’s covered by a thick layer of despair. Everything I thought I was has died. I’m not a savior. I’m not a hero. Even Vince saw that.

  I open my mouth, intending to yell at Walter some more about ruining his chances of having a comfortable retirement. Instead, no words come out. I expel a gruff, shuddering sigh. It all hits me at once. I’ll never feel Vince’s kiss again, or see the hot desire in his eyes that only I can fulfill. Vince made me feel whole, like a real woman. To know that someone like Vince, that masculine god, could be satisfied with my body had made me feel like a goddess. And now, now I feel like nothing, an insignificant spec of dust floating in the infinite universe.

  I sink to my knees, covering my face as I sob. I’m aware of how pathetic this looks, but I don’t care. My emotions have finally consumed me. I can no longer deny the truth. My father is right. My only worth is to marry a man, cook and clean for him, but I can’t manage that either.

  I feel Walter’s hand, flat and warm on the middle of my back. He speaks soothingly, telling me it’s all going to be okay. If I could speak through the choking sobs, I’d tell him he’s full of shit.

  Walter’s hand remains for a few more moments while I cry. Then, I feel his fingers tense. I wipe the tears from my eyes and open them. Walter’s staring across the street, his face hard and still.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  He nods his forehead towards a white van parked on the street.

  “The men in that van are watching us,” Walter says, barely moving his lips.

  I huff. “Probably making sure their puppet Rodel fires me like they told him too.”

  Walter takes my elbow, helping me to my feet. “We need to get out here. You need to be somewhere safe.”

  I balance between my feet, and stare openly at the van. There are indeed two men, and they’re watching us, though they’re acting like they’re not.

  “Screw them,” I say to Walter. “Come on, I’ll buy you a beer.”

  I unlock Old Clunker and open the door. Before getting in, I glare at the van.

  “Come and get me, assholes,” I mumble under my breath.

  ————————

  The bar is empty, which is to be expected at ten in the morning. Walter and I sit at a table in the corner. His eyes are trained on the door, expecting mobsters to burst in at any minute. I take long drags of my beer, begging the alcohol to subdue my thoughts.

  “If you go back today, talk to the Chief, he’ll probably put you back on the force.” I look at Walter, my eyes pleading and rimmed with tears. “We tried, Walter, we did. And we freed Honor, so it wasn’t for nothing.”

  “I’m not goi
ng back to that place,” Walter spits. “I’m not groveling to that scumbag Rodel.”

  I sigh in defeat. I can’t blame him. I’d rather bathe in acid than beg Rodel for my job back.

  Walter narrows his eyes at me. “I hope you’re not giving up.”

  I chuckle sardonically. “That’s exactly what I’m doing.” I wave my empty pint glass at the bartender. “Another,” I say.

  “Bullshit.” Walter crosses his arms, studying me. “If I know anything about you, it’s that you won’t give up. You can’t. You don’t know how.”

  “I’m a fast learner.”

  The bartender brings me a fresh beer. I drink deeply, relaxing as the cold froth rushes down my throat.

  Walter shakes his head. “You’re the only one that can help them.”

  I slam my glass on the table, spilling a little beer. “It’s over, Walter. Everything fell apart. I can’t do it without-“

  His name dies on my lips, and I’m overcome with a fresh wave of sadness. I’ve never felt heartache before, I never knew what all of those songs were talking about. Now I do. It’s a dull, empty pain that ebbs and flows, but never truly goes away. At times, it feels like it could crush you.

  I wait for Walter to admonish me for crying over a guy when the women in Unit A have much bigger problems than me. He doesn’t. He lays his hand on top of mine. It’s a small gesture, but it provides so much comfort. I blink the tears from my eyes and look at his kind face. For a split second, and through my watery vision, he reminds me of my father.

  I jerk my hand away with a gasp. Maybe the alcohol is helping me think clearly, helping me forget my personal hangups that kept me from going to the one person who could help in the first place. Yes, there’s still a chance.

  Walter straightens up, the corner of his mouth beginning to upturn in a smile. “What is it?”

  I look in his eyes and smile. “I know someone who can help us.”

  Walter subtly pumps his fist and mouths, “Yes.”

  Encouraged by a surge of new energy, I pull out the phone and text Dad.

  How about this weekend?

  Seconds later, he responds, saying that he can’t wait.

  ————————

  I spend the few days before my parents arrival completely cleaning and reorganizing my apartment. Sure, the place needed it, but my real motivation is to keep busy so my despair doesn’t swallow me up. There’s something liberating about clearing everything from the cabinets and removing the dust, moving furniture to vacuum and mop underneath, and clearing the cobwebs from every corner. I even move my clothes to the dresser in my bedroom, and hide my mail away in a drawer. It feels like a new beginning, which I desperately need.

  I wonder how my parents will react during this visit. They’re expecting to meet my boyfriend. Dad’s probably planning on grilling him about his intentions, when he’ll marry me. I wish that was the case, that Vince and I were still together, that it was a normal relationship, and not some crime fighting partnership turned sweet, and quickly soured.

  I’m waiting by the window when Dad’s car pulls up. He stalls in the middle of the street, and beeps his horn. I rush downstairs and approach the car. Mom’s in the passenger seat holding the map. Dad glances around in frustration.

  “Where are you supposed to park around here?” he asks.

  I guide them to the parking deck, then help with their bags as we go to my apartment.

  “Finally made it,” Dad says, looking around. “And you’ve cleaned up the place. It seems this Vince is having a good influence on you.”

  I smile good-naturedly and accept his hug. Dad’s arms are warm and familiar. His smell reminds me of my childhood, a simpler time.

  “So good to see you, Butterbean,” he says.

  Mom gives me an equally warm hug. She pinches both of my cheeks before kissing them.

  “Where is this young man?” she asks, her eyes darting around like Vince is going to pop out at any minute.

  “He’s, um, busy right now.”

  I hate lying to them, but I’m not ready to launch into the truth just yet. My parents exchange ecstatic smiles. They are so happy for me I can feel it. What will they do when they find out there’s no ‘him?’ It’s just me. All alone. As always, and probably forever.

  I buy some time by making us all coffee. Mom and Dad settle into the living room, and chat about where we should have dinner. Dad’s looking at the nearby restaurants on his Yelp app, and reading nearly every review he comes across to my mother.

  I load up the tray with the coffee pot, mugs, cream, and sugar. I shouldn’t wait too long to get to the truth, to the entire point of their visit. If I let them go on believing that everything is hunky-dory, it will be even harder to let them down.

  “How is Rodizzio’s?” Dad asks, pronouncing the name slowly as I walk into the living room.

  “That’s a clothing store,” I say.

  Dad squints at his phone in confusion. I set the tray down and pour out the coffee.

  “Will Vince be joining us for dinner?” Mom asks.

  I let out a yelp, pretending to almost drop the coffee pot as a way to avoid the question.

  Dad jumps to his feet to steady my arm. “Careful there, Butterbean. Don’t burn yourself.” When he sees I’m okay, he sits back down, quickly hitching up his pants at the thighs. “Say, I was never able to find anything about Vince online. I’ve looked on nearly every site.”

  I sit down with my cup of coffee. My hands are trembling, and I have to be careful not to spill it.

  “That’s probably because his last name is really Romano,” I say quickly, then take a scalding hot sip.

  Dad sits forward. “What was that you said?”

  “Romano,” I say again, slower this time. “Vince Romano.”

  “I see, uh, you misspoke when you said it was Romando.”

  I shake my head, curtly. “I didn’t misspeak. I lied.”

  Mom gives me a pursed look. Dad hardens his mouth, then starts furiously typing into his phone. I sip my coffee, strangely calm. Dad’s eyes dart over his screen, and his face turns the color of ash.

  “This Vince Romano?” he says, showing me the screen.

  My heart leaps, then falls flat to my feet. It’s a picture of Vince and his brothers. They’re all dressed in black, walking down the street like it’s their own personal runway. It’s the picture I saw on Patty’s phone, my first glimpse of Vince.

  “That’s him,” I admit, my voice creaky.

  “Harley,” Dad says, his voice edged with disappointment. “Do you have any idea what the Romano family is?”

  “I do now,” I say.

  Mom snatches the phone from Dad, puts on her glasses, and studies the photo.

  “Well, I certainly see the appeal,” she says.

  Dad shakes his head, blinking. “I can’t stand for this, Harley. That’s a dangerous man.”

  I raise my hand in the air. “It’s okay. We broke up. We’re not together anymore.”

  “I should hope not.” Dad straightens his arms, resting his hands on his knees in an authoritarian posture. “Why did you call us here? Did this guy get you into some kind of trouble? Do you owe him money?”

  I look at Mom, who’s zoomed in on Vince’s face. Suddenly, I’m offended by what Dad assumes about Vince.

  “It’s not like that. He’s not like that,” I say. “Vince is a good man. I cared about him. We cared about each other.” The words catch in my throat. I take a swig of coffee to keep myself from crying.

  Dad’s face reddens. I can tell he’s losing patience. “Then what’s the meaning of all this? Why call your mother and me here? Just to tell us a mobster dumped you?”

  “I didn’t say he dumped me.”

  “He didn’t?” Mom asks.

  I avert my gaze, not answering the question. I hear Dad huff.

  “I know your problem,” Dad says. “It’s that job you have. Being a cop doesn’t attract any decent men. Just scum like that
.” He gestures towards the phone.

  I take a deep, guttural breath, and carefully place my mug on the coffee table. “Vince isn’t scum. And I’m not some housewife. We were working together, okay? It was an important case. Vince was the only person that would help me..” I pause, overcome with emotion, then make myself keep going. “I loved him. I… love him.”

  Mom sees how broken hearted I am, and her eyes soften. She reaches out and grabs my hand.

  “But no, Vince isn’t why I called you here.” I wipe up my tears, and straighten my back. “The case is why I called you here. One of the other crime families is involved in sex trafficking. Vince and I were working to take them down.”

  Mom covers her mouth and gasps at these salacious details.

  “The Romanos aren’t like the other families,” I say. “They police these streets, since the actual police don’t do their jobs. The entire force is in bed with the mob. No one was going to do anything to help those women.”

  “Just Vince,” Dad says. He shakes his head, understanding a little, I think. “Oh, Butterbean, this is why I didn’t want you to become a cop. It’s dangerous, and all the shady characters surrounding it. Believe me, I’ve seen my share of shady characters. They’re not the kind of people I want anywhere near my daughter.”

  “Daddy.” I reach out and take his hand in mine. “I need your help. The women in that outbuilding need your help. Why do you think I’m inspired to help people? It’s because of you.”

  Dad looks away, smiling humbly. “Look at you, my baby girl. You make me so proud. Even if you do scare the hell out of me.”

  “Will you help me?” I ask, hopefully. “Tell me how to defeat them. I’m ready to learn from the master.”

  Dad cocks his head, unconvinced. “Are you sure this is your cross to bear? There must be someone else-“

  “There’s no one else,” I say, my voice rising in passion. “What would you do in my situation? If you saw damage being done, and you were the only one willing to do something about it? I know you know that feeling, that unexplainable drive to set things right. I feel it too. You passed it to me.”