Last Man Standing

by Wendy Rosnau

  “Who said I love Elena?”

  “She’s a beautiful woman.”

  Lucky snorted. “I’ve slept with beautiful women before, Joey. I didn’t love any of them.”

  “This is me, fratello. You wouldn’t have slept with her if you’d had a choice.”

  “I had a choice,” Lucky argued.

  Joey shook his head. “No, I don’t think you did. I know you too well. You don’t want her gone. You’ve been stalling sending her back ever since she showed up in town.”

  “I may not want her gone, Joey, but she’s going. Don’t worry, I’m not about to do anything stupid.”

  Joey let go of another harsh laugh.

  “Okay,” Lucky agreed, “sleeping with her was reckless. Maybe even stupid.”

  Joey stood and removed his leather coat, leaving him in a gray sweater and jeans, then returned to the chair. “So you haven’t made her any promises?”

  Lucky leaned back and ran his hands through his black hair. “I took her to Caponelli’s for lunch. She wanted to see where we grew up. We ended up here. We slept together. That’s it.”

  This time it was Joey’s turn to remain silent.

  “Joey, I’m sending her home tomorrow. I’m flying her back myself.”

  Joey stood. “I’m sorry, fratello. Maybe there’s a way to make this work out.”

  “No. She’s better off back at Santa Palazzo. She’s not one of us, Joey. I don’t want her to be a part of this. I can’t change who and what I am. We both can’t. But I can keep her out of this, and I will. Now, what did you have to tell me? What was your news?”

  “Jacky called. Vinnie’s been released from jail.”

  “Then the waiting is over.”

  “Yes. He’ll come for us now. Marrying Rhea, instead of Sophia, was a direct slap in Vinnie’s face. You shooting Moody at the Shedd was unfortunate. But the real pisser will be when he hears you’re Vito’s heir. Vinnie’s not going to want just a little revenge for the humiliation he’s suffered. He’ll want blood.”

  “Then it’s a good thing Elena’s going back tomorrow. There’s something I never told you,” Lucky said, deciding it was time Vito’s confession was shared with his brother. “Before Vito died, he told me he killed Carlo. I have the proof in Vito’s desk back at Dante Armanno. Carlo’s ring and watch. I’ll hand them over to Jacky so he can close the investigation.”

  Joey walked to the window, looked out. “I thought he might have done it.”

  “I wasn’t surprised, either,” Lucky admitted. “But I was surprised about something else he told me.” He screwed the top back on the bottle of Scotch without tasting it. “Vito told me he put Frank’s eye out before Grace was touched at the cabin. He said Frank passed out after that, and during that time it was Vinnie who went after Grace. He said Carlo gave the order, but it was Vinnie who brutalized Grace.”

  Joey turned from the window. “Frank doesn’t know, does he?”

  “If he was unconscious, he never witnessed the act.” Lucky decided to part with the rest. “Vito planned to kill Vinnie as soon as he got out of jail. He asked me to take care of it for him if he died before he got the chance.”

  “And of course you said yes.”

  “Vinnie’s scum, Joey. What would you have said?”

  “I’ll do it,” Joey suddenly offered. “I’ll kill him.”

  “No. It’s my responsibility. I made the promise, not you.”

  Joey came back to the table. “I’m sick of you always doing that.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Thinking it’s your responsibility to clean up everyone else’s mess.”

  Lucky came to his feet. “That’s my job, Joey.”

  “Because I forced it on you.”

  “No, you didn’t.”

  “I was young and angry when I called you a killer, Lucky. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean for you to have to go through life feeling like this is what you were born to do.”

  “We’ve been over this before, Joey. It is what I was born to do. What Frank taught me to do. And I’m good at it.”

  Joey stepped forward, got in Lucky’s face. “I never meant what I said. I was a kid. I—”

  “You were angry. I know. But you were also right, Joey. I killed our mother. She died giving me life. I took her from you. You had a right to hate me for that. Frank did, too. I cheated you both.”

  “You never cheated either of us. And I never hated you. Frank didn’t, either.” Joey turned away in frustration, ran his hands through his short black hair. “But you believe that, and because you do, you’ve been sacrificing yourself for years. It’s time you stopped thinking you have to make it right.”

  “I can never make it right, Joey.”

  Joey turned slowly, his eyes locking on the visible scar on his brother’s neck, and Lucky knew his brother was remembering that night in the alley when they were teenagers. Joey still blamed himself for what happened—Lucky could see it in his eyes.

  He would never forget Joey’s screams when the cricca had laid the blade on his neck and started cutting. It was almost as though Joey was being cut.

  “You think you have guilt, Lucky. What about my guilt? How do you think I feel knowing everything you do is a direct reaction to our mother’s death and what I accused you of as a kid? How do you think I feel knowing that you walked into that alley that night to give your life for me?”

  “You would have done the same thing, Joey. It isn’t because of our mother that I stepped into that alley. It wasn’t about anything that night except keeping you and Jacky breathing.” When Joey said nothing, Lucky continued, “This is a waste of time, Joey. Vinnie is out of jail, and I need to make plans to move on him before he moves on us.”

  “Did you hear yourself? You said, I need to make plans. Don’t you mean we?”

  “All right, Joey. We need to make plans. Tell Jacky about Carlo, but don’t mention the rest. I don’t want him interfering in my promise to Vito and going cop on us now. We’ll make plans later tonight. Tell Jacky to bring Hank to the tunnel around ten and we’ll meet him there.”

  “And Elena?”

  “Elena will go home tomorrow, like I said.” Lucky walked away so that his brother couldn’t see the mix of emotions on his face. “As Vito once said, we make our own fate. I chose mine the day I agreed to become Vito’s heir. Just like Vincent D’Lano chose his fate twenty-four years ago when he victimized an innocent woman while her husband was made to watch.” Lucky turned around. “And for that he will die, Joey. I gave my word to Vito, and I will honor it. Vincent D’Lano will not live to see the new year.”

  Lucky grabbed his jacket and cell phone the minute Joey left and called Palone. He told him that he and Elena would be home within the hour. Then he called Frank and told him to expect Elena tomorrow evening. He explained that he would be flying her back to Key West himself. No, he wouldn’t be staying. It would be a quick trip. In and out, and Frank should pick her up at the airport.

  When he disconnected and turned around, Elena was standing at the foot of the stairs. She was fully dressed, and she looked as beautiful as ever. Beautiful, but different. Different in a way he was responsible for. He couldn’t ignore how that made him feel. If he was possessive of her before, what they had shared today only served to tighten the noose around his neck.

  Apparently she’d overheard his conversation with Frank. She said, “In and out. Nicely put, Lucky. A quickie, and then a quick trip home.”

  “Elena don’t—”

  “Don’t, what? Don’t feel used? I don’t. I wanted you. You know that.” She shrugged. “I’m no longer a virgin or inexperienced, and I wanted that, too. The afternoon was well spent. What about your back? It’s important to keep up with your therapy. I know it’s helping. You stand straighter, move with more range of motion. Your pain is less. If I go back home, then—”

  “I’ll call my doctor. Have him refer me to someone. You’re right about the pain. It’s better, and I haven’t had
any problems with the paralysis in a week. I’ll keep up the therapy.”

  “It sounds as if you have it all worked out. Good. Then you won’t need me.”

  She had no idea how untrue that was, Lucky thought. “We’ll leave late tomorrow night. It’s better to go after dark.”

  She nodded and headed back upstairs. Suddenly she stopped and turned back. “Was someone here earlier? I thought I heard voices.”

  “The radio,” Lucky said without hesitation. “I was listening to the weather forecast.”

  “There’s been so much going on since I got here that I haven’t seen Rhea. I would like to see her and Nicci before I leave. What about tonight? Dinner, maybe?”

  “I’ll arrange it.”

  She started up the stairs again, stopped. But this time she didn’t turn around. “Grazie for today, Lucky. The monkfish and the…experience.”

  Chapter 11

  In the back seat of his black Lincoln Town Car, Vincent D’Lano tried to ignore his bastard son Moody’s pathetic whining. His son’s leg was in a cast and he’d been sent home from the hospital with crutches.

  “I’m eating painkillers by the handful,” Moody complained. “I’m going to kill Masado and his bitch.”

  Vincent ignored Moody. Just the sound of his noxious voice sickened him. It was too bad, he thought, that Lucky Masado hadn’t aimed a little higher and killed the worthless bastard. Every time he thought about Moody’s gutless milky-blue eyes, he wanted to puke. Eyes that years ago he’d thought beautiful on Mary Ellen.

  What a tricky bitch she was, Vincent thought. It wasn’t enough that she’d gotten herself pregnant, but then she’d gone and died a year later, saddling him with her little blond freak.

  He would have drowned the kid like an unwanted puppy if he’d been able to get his hands on the whelp at birth.

  Fate, bitches and the Masados.

  It was like a damn epidemic of bad luck had crawled up his ass and put down roots.

  But things were going to get better now. He’d finally been let out of jail. And best of all, Vito Tandi was dead. Yes, things were looking up.

  “I can’t even have sex,” Moody continued to whine. “I’m in too damn much pain to even pull my pants down. Lucky Masado is going to pay for this.”

  What Vincent would never admit to anyone was that he’d always been impressed with the mental and physical toughness of Frank’s boys. Lucky Masado had more backbone and courage than any man alive, and Joey had a talent for tripling money faster than a toothless whore. A winning combination was what they were.

  “How’s Sophia, boss?”

  Vincent studied the back of his driver’s head. Tony Roelo had been with him for ten years. He was a bulky man, with a face that could curdle milk and ham-size hands incased in black leather gloves he seldom took off. But the feature that set Tony apart from everyone else was the puckered scar on the bridge of his nose that gave the impression someone had tried to bite it off.

  “Sophia’s anxious, Tony,” Vincent grumbled. “Upset I got out today and she didn’t. Damn my lawyer for that. Martin English has made this complicated when it didn’t have to be that way. We’re going to have to shake him up a bit, Tony. Let him know I’m disappointed.”

  “Whatever you say, boss.”

  Vincent turned to stare out the window as the car cruised though the old neighborhood toward his brownstone mansion. “Fill me in, Tony. You have news, huh?”

  “Some of the news isn’t so good, boss. Lucky Masado and a black-haired woman visited Vito’s lawyer this morning. They were there a little over an hour and then they ate lunch at Caponelli’s. The woman with Masado fits Moody’s description of the bitch that was at the Shedd the night he was shot. I took a picture of her for you. I thought you’d like to see her.”

  Vincent accepted the picture Tony handed back to him. When he looked at it, he blinked twice, sure his eyes were playing a trick on him. “It can’t be, Tony. Grace Tandi is dead.”

  “Yes, boss,” Tony agreed. “That’s what we thought.”

  “Thought? I saw her take her last breath. You did, too.”

  “I agree that’s what it looked like. I paid Vito’s lawyer a visit. Henry Kendler refused to answer my questions—at first. He changed his mind after I explained to him how important it was.”

  “Tell me,” Vincent said.

  “The woman with Masado is Grace Tandi’s daughter. Kendler says Frank Masado managed to get Grace Tandi to a hospital before she bled to death that night at the cabin. It looks like the rumor that Grace was pregnant was true. Only, it was Vito’s baby.”

  “He has an heir.”

  “Yes, but he never knew she existed. Not until recently.”

  “And the will?”

  “That’s another surprise.”

  “I hate surprises, Tony.”

  “Lucky Masado has been named Vito’s legal beneficiary. He and Elena have been living with Vito for the past week.”

  “The estate is mine!” Moody protested, driving his fist into the door panel. “The Shedd is mine!”

  Vito ignored his son’s tantrum. “And Grace?” he said to Tony. “Where is she?”

  “Dead. Kendler told me she died a few years ago. He said Frank Masado moved Grace out of state after she was released from a Wisconsin hospital and provided for her and her daughter.”

  Suddenly Vincent couldn’t breathe. He had to have Dante Armanno. All his plans hinged on owning Vito’s estate. “So the Masado boys have won again,” Vincent muttered.

  “For the moment, boss,” Tony conceded.

  Vincent’s lip curled. “When is Martin English coming to see me?”

  “His car is here.” Tony pulled the Lincoln to a stop behind the lawyer’s blue Jaguar. He hit the switch that unlocked the doors, then climbed out and opened the back door for his boss.

  “Damn this weather.” Vincent shivered and pulled his fedora over his bushy eyebrows as he stepped from the car. “I hate the way my balls shrivel in cold weather,” he complained. “I need a vacation, Tony. Someplace warm.”

  After his driver had draped his black wool coat around his shoulders, and mindless of Moody’s struggles to get out of the car with his crutches, Vincent started up the flagstone walkway. When he was halfway up the steps, the door swung open and he was greeted by one of his pretty maids. He didn’t remember her name, but he remembered her breasts. They were the ones he’d paid to have enlarged.

  She took his coat, and he barely acknowledged her as he headed for his study. Martin English was already inside, and Vincent removed his hat as Tony pulled his coat off his shoulders. “Close the door,” he told his driver.

  “What about me?”

  Vincent turned to look at Moody standing outside the door balancing on his crutches. “You’re no use to me in that condition. Go find a maid to listen to your whining.” He motioned to the maid with the expensive breasts, who stood near the stairway that led to the second floor. “Whatever your name is, see to my son.”

  When Moody was gone, he turned his gaze on his lawyer. “I warned you, Martin. I warned you that I would kill ya if you didn’t make this mess go away. Didn’t I tell ya, I’d kill ya?”

  “Nicci has a cold,” Rhea explained. “So I didn’t want to take him out. But I’ll bring him to visit you in Florida, Elena. Joey has promised to fly us to Key West in a few months.”

  Elena nodded. It was cold outside, and the weather forecast predicted a winter storm would be moving into the Midwest in the next forty-eight hours. If she had a three-year-old son, she wouldn’t have wanted to take him out in this weather, either.

  Rhea and Joey had come for dinner. Lucky had arranged it as he’d said he would. It was good to see her friend. She had missed Rhea these past weeks. “Thank you for coming. I’d planned to see you the day after I arrived in town, but—”

  “I know. I’m sure it was a shock to find out that Vito was your father. I was surprised when I heard it. How are you, Elena? How are you really?�
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  They were in the orange bedroom, Rhea seated on the edge of the big bed. Elena feigned a smile. “I’m fine. It’s been an emotional week, I can’t deny that. Losing my father so soon after we met…” She shrugged. “I keep telling myself at least we had a week.”

  “You look exhausted.”

  Elena studied Rhea’s pretty blond hair and blue eyes. “I’ll be fine eventually. You, on the other hand, look wonderful. Marriage must agree with you.”

  “Joey’s amazing, Elena. I have a family now. A husband and son. I’ve even come to think of Lucky as the brother I never had. Jackson Ward, too. And Sunni is so sweet and friendly. She and Jackson are perfect for each other. You wouldn’t think so to look at her—she’s very elegant looking. But they’re a match made in heaven.”

  “Like you and Joey.”

  Rhea smiled. “Yes.”

  Elena turned to look out the window. “I’m going home tomorrow.”

  “Yes, I know. Joey told me. Come sit by me.” Rhea patted the bed and Elena crossed to it and sat. “We really will come for a visit, I promise.”

  Elena took Rhea’s hand. “If anything should happen to me, Rhea, I want you to know that I love you like a sister. We had great times together at Santa Palazzo.”

  “What do you mean, if something happens to you? What’s going to happen to you?”

  “Nothing.” Elena released Rhea’s hand and stood. “I just meant, if anything should happen. You know we can never guess the future.”

  “Elena, what aren’t you telling me?”

  “There’s nothing, Rhea.”

  “I sense there is. I noticed the way you avoided Lucky at supper. Are you angry with him for some reason? You shouldn’t be too hard on him, Elena. He looks rough and I know he drinks too much, but—”

  “Not anymore,” Elena said. “At least, I know he’s trying to cut back.”

  “Cut back on his drinking? Are you serious? When?”

  “It’s been gradual, I guess. Over the past week.”

  “That’s wonderful.”

  Rhea was staring at her with curious eyes. Elena said nothing.