Dom's Ascension (Mariani Crime Family Book 0)

by Amanda Washington

  I turned to find Dominico from the interview walking toward me, lit cigarette in hand. He had to be close to six-and-a-half feet tall, and the top of my head barely reached his shoulders. Clean-shaven with his dark hair combed back, he looked slick in his tailored suit. My gaze lingered on his broad shoulders and big arms for a moment longer than I’d intended. I couldn’t help it. Although he was a pig, the man was good looking. He took one last drag before tossing the butt on the sidewalk and snuffing it out with a shiny black oxford.

  The city buzzed around us, but the sidewalk where we stood felt strangely isolated, making me feel vulnerable and exposed. Something dark and exciting danced in Dominico’s bloodshot eyes, making me question the safety of being alone with him. Still, he had been in on my interview, so I needed to play nice.

  “Can I help you?” I asked.

  “Just thought I’d be friendly and walk you to your car,” he replied.

  Since it was none of his business that I couldn’t afford a car, I said, “Thanks, but I can manage.” Then I continued toward the bus stop.

  I heard the sound of his footsteps behind me, but kept going.

  “The parking lot’s that way,” he said.

  Glancing over my shoulder, I confirmed that he was pointing the opposite direction. Naturally. “Neat. I’m taking the bus.”

  He hurried to get in front of me. “Will you just hold up a second?”

  I stopped and put my hands on my hips, fully aware my stance would come off as hostile. I felt hostile. My feet hurt and my arms and shoulders felt like they were made of rubber and I wanted to get home and relax. “Did you need something?”

  He ran a hand through his hair, mussing it up. “Look, I’m sorry about yesterday. I wasn’t feeling well, and realize I came off as sort of a dick.”

  “You were hungover and acting like a chauvinistic pig,” I corrected.

  One of his eyebrows shot up. He stared at me for a moment before shaking his head and chuckling. “You sure don’t pull your punches, do you?”

  “Should I?” I asked.

  “No. But let me make up for my behavior yesterday by giving you a ride home.”

  He’d apologized and had taken my rebuke in stride, but I still didn’t know him from Adam. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m good,” I said. Since he stood between me and the bus stop, I added, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a bus to catch.”

  “What do you mean you’re good? You don’t have a car. You ride the bus. Let me take you home and save you some money.”

  “I like riding the bus.” I did, too. It gave me a chance to unwind, and I liked people-watching. “And not that it’s any of your business, but I can afford the fare.”

  He sighed, the corner of his mouth turning up in the sexiest smirk I’d ever seen. Butterflies danced in my stomach at the sight, and I struggled to remember why his remarks during the interview had seemed so insulting. Maybe my nerves had made me overly-sensitive.

  “Sorry, I’m handling this wrong,” Dominico said. “I’m in charge of security for the restaurant, and the manager asked me to make sure you got home okay. There’s been some crime in the area lately, and he’s a pretty old-fashioned guy.”

  “Collin sent you to offer me a ride?” I asked.

  “Collin, yeah, that’s the manager,” Dominico replied.

  The few brief times I’d seen him, the man hadn’t seemed overly concerned with my safety. But Brandon had said something concerning about my predecessor throwing in the towel and walking away. Maybe they were trying to take extra good care of me so I wouldn’t do the same thing. “Is this because of the chef I replaced?” I asked.

  Dominico’s eyes narrowed. “Who told you about that?”

  Not wanting to sell Brandon out, I shrugged. “I can’t remember. Maybe I heard about it on the news or read about it in the paper. I didn’t realize he worked at this restaurant, though. Was anybody ever able to contact him?”

  The way Dominico watched me made me feel a little uncomfortable. “Do you know him?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “No, they didn’t find him.” He rolled his shoulders, not looking me in the eye. “We don’t think it’s connected to the restaurant—Collin thinks the guy split to dodge gambling debts—but just in case, I’d like to take you home.”

  “So he actually did disappear. I thought he just quit.”

  Dominico snapped his mouth shut and shook his head. “Look, I’m trying to make sure you get home safe. Are you gonna let me give you a lift or not?”

  I glanced down the street in time to see the bus pulling away from the stop, which meant I’d have to wait twenty minutes for the next one. I didn’t know if my aching muscles could handle the wait.

  “We can go in and verify my role with the restaurant if it makes you feel more comfortable,” Dominico offered.

  I couldn’t decide if it would make me feel more comfortable or like a paranoid idiot. After all, he’d been in on the hiring process and therefore clearly worked for the restaurant. He did seem legitimately concerned for my safety, and there was a fine line between independence and recklessness.

  “You promise you’re not some sort of psycho killer or rapist or something?” I asked.

  His sexy smirk widened into a full-fledged toothy smile as he held up his hand. “Scouts honor.”

  Nothing about him said Boy Scout, but I let the pledge slide and accepted the ride home. He led me to a sweet-looking black Porsche convertible and opened the passenger’s side door.

  “This is your car?” I asked.

  He nodded. “Like it?”

  Of course I liked it; it was sleek and shiny with tinted windows and what I’m sure were custom rims. Who wouldn’t like it? “I love it, but I thought you said you worked security. How’d you end up with a car like this?”

  He cocked an eyebrow at me and I replayed the question in my head. Heat crept into my cheeks.

  “Sorry, that was rude and it’s none of my business. I suffer from a broken filter and have yet to learn what I should and shouldn’t say out loud.”

  He gestured me into the car and shut the door before hurrying to the driver’s side. The car’s interior was even swankier than the outside. I snuggled into the leather seat and checked out the dashboard full of gauges.

  “I like it,” he said when he climbed in.

  “The car? Me too. It’s gorgeous. I’ve never ridden in a ragtop before.” I studied the roof, wondering how it worked.

  “No. Well, yes, but that’s not what I was talking about. I like that you speak your mind. People don’t usually do that around me. It’s refreshing.”

  “Why? You some sort of royalty or something?”

  “Not exactly, but my family is well off.” He tapped the steering wheel a couple times, and then turned to face me. “So…do you want me to put the top down?”

  The chilly March air made me hesitate only a second. “Will you please?”

  “Sure. You got a jacket?”

  I nodded and tugged it out of the backpack at my feet. He beamed me another smile before flicking a switch on his dashboard. The top slowly receded, and I put on my coat and buckled my seat belt. Dominico turned the heater on our feet.

  “What kind of music do you like?” he asked, fiddling with the radio.

  “I’m good with whatever,” I said, waving him off.

  He cocked his head and looked at me. “But what do you like?”

  For someone just trying to give me a ride, he sure asked a lot of questions. I couldn’t help but be flattered by his interest. I’d always been a pretty private person, though, so it felt weird to talk about myself.

  “I promise not to use the information against you,” he prodded.

  “Oldies,” I confessed.

  “Oldies?” he asked. “What era are we talking here?”

  “All of them, but mostly sixties.”

  “That’s…unusual. I don’t think I’ve ever met a girl under fifty who likes oldies. Is there a story behin
d it?”

  I shrugged, not yet ready to reveal all my secrets. “Papa says I have an old soul.”

  He took his hand off the radio dial and put it on the gear shift. “Well, you’re gonna have to help me out here, because I have no idea which radio stations play oldies.”

  “We don’t have to listen to my music. You’re already giving me a ride and I’m pretty sure that’s above and beyond security guard duties. I’m good with modern stuff too.”

  “No way, now you’ve got me interested. I want to hear the kind of music a girl like you listens to.” He reversed out of the parking spot. “Change the station and tell me where I’m headed.”

  A girl like me?

  I chewed on that while giving him directions to my house and messing with the radio. It landed on Gladys Knight and the Pips’ song “Midnight Train to Georgia,” the very song my parents had been listening to when Mamma realized she loved Papa. I knew, because she must have told me the story a hundred times, talking about how she’d packed up everything she owned and run off with him against the wishes of her parents. They eloped and had me a little over a year later.

  Hearing the song now, with Dominico, caused goosebumps to rise across my flesh. Which, in turn, made me feel stupid. Sure, he was being nice and giving me a ride home, but I barely knew the guy. I chalked the warm feelings up to watching too many romance movies with my best friend.

  “I like it,” Dominico said, tapping his hand to the beat against the steering wheel.

  I nodded. “It was my mom’s favorite song.”

  “She had good taste,” he replied. I appreciated the way he didn’t ask about her and just let the topic drop. “You hungry? Want to stop somewhere and get something to eat before I drop you off?”

  Driving me home because his boss asked him to was one thing, but he’d put down the top of his car in cold weather for me, let me choose the music, and now he wanted to feed me? My personal experience with guys was limited, but I’d heard enough stories to find his behavior unusual.

  “Why are you being so nice?” I asked.

  He eyed me, frowning. “I’m just… It’s just… Are you hungry or not?”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. Thank you for the offer, but I’m fine.” I sniffed my clothes. “And I desperately need a shower. Please, just take me home.”

  We rode the rest of the way in silence, and when he pulled up in front of my house, he killed the engine, got out, and joined me on the curb.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “Walking you to the door,” he replied, gesturing for me to accompany him.

  Confused, I asked, “Why?” It’s not like we were on a date or something.

  “Because it’s dark and it’s the right thing to do.”

  I pondered his answer as he led me to the door.

  “What time do you work tomorrow?” he asked.

  “Two. They’re having me close. Why?”

  “I’ll be here at one thirty to pick you up.”

  I stopped. “You don’t have to do that. I can take the bus.”

  “I do have to. My boss asked me to, remember?”

  His answer reminded me our ride was just part of his job, which upset me for some strange reason. I don’t know what I’d been expecting, but the disappointment stung. “Oh, yeah. Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I reached for the doorknob but he got to it first, his hand freezing midturn. “Does that make you mad?” he asked, watching me.

  “No. I don’t know. It shouldn’t.” I really wanted to get past him and into the comfort of my house.

  His lips twitched like he was fighting off a smile, which really pissed me off. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, opening the door for me.

  “Whatever,” I said, stepping past him and into the house.

  Papa was peering out the front window. When the door closed behind me, he asked, “Who brought you home?”

  I rolled my eyes. “He’s nobody, Papa. Just one of the security guys from work.”

  Papa’s eyebrows rose. “Nice car. They must pay their security well.”

  “Yeah.” Too confused about Dominico to discuss him, I waved Papa off. “But don’t you want to hear about my first day?”

  He smiled and stepped away from the window to hug me. “Of course, luce dei miei occhi. How did it go?”

  Thankful for the subject change, I gave him a full rundown on my day while I made dinner, Dominico and his flashy car firmly shoved out of my thoughts.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Dominico

  AFTER I DROPPED Annetta off at her house, I headed to the casino for a meeting with Carlo. Taking my seat beside Michael, I waited as a few more of Carlo’s team filed in.

  When Carlo entered, he brought us up to speed on the details of the attack. Then Michael stood and gave everyone a rundown on what we’d found out about Chains, and then Carlo took over again.

  “If you’re on a job, I want you to continue it,” he said, leaning against his desk. “We need to keep money flowing in. But every single one of you needs to be on the lookout for this stronzo, this bastard, and I want to know the second you get eyes on him. Also, we know he didn’t act alone, so we need to pull him in alive so we can pinch him for information on the rest of his crew. They won’t get away with this. Not a single one of ’em.”

  Carlo released the team, but told me and Michael to hang back. Once his office cleared, he sat us back down and reminded us of our duty.

  “Regardless of who finds Chains and his gang, your father wants you two to handle this,” he said. “He wants you to make an example of them.”

  Michael nodded, his expression guarded. “I figured as much.”

  “I’m hoping we find them before this weekend, but if not, we’re gonna need extra security at the engagement dinner. Since we don’t want to look like we don’t have our shit together, the boss has been hesitant to bring Don De Lucca in on our situation, but I don’t know how long he can hold off. If the De Luccas feel we hid the information from them…” Carlo shook his head.

  “When’s Father gonna make the call?” Michael asked.

  “Tomorrow evening. Unless we have Chains and his crew by then.”

  Michael blew out a breath. “Twenty-four hours doesn’t give us much of a window.”

  “Do we have any leads?” I asked.

  “I’ve got a guy inside the Durante family. He’s been snooping around and found out Chains has a girlfriend who works at the Plaza. I reached out to her. She couldn’t give me much on him—didn’t even know his real name—but I did manage to squeeze his address and phone number out of her.”

  A guy inside the Durante family? I wondered who would be crazy enough to take that gig. Focusing on that was easier than allowing myself to think about whatever Carlo had done to “squeeze” the information out of Chains’s girl. We couldn’t afford to be lenient, especially not when our own guys had been killed in cold blood. But other than dating an asshole, the girl hadn’t done anything wrong.

  “I have a team watching his apartment, one on the Plaza, and one on his girlfriend’s place. If he shows his mug, we’ll know.”

  Michael nodded. “Tom has my pager number and promised to reach out if Chains, or any of the crew he hangs with, shows up in his bar again.”

  “So now what? Back to the streets?” I asked, stifling a yawn. I’d gotten maybe eight hours of sleep over the last forty-eight hours and the idea of spending the rest of the day in the car made me want to pass out on the spot.

  “Yep,” Carlo said, clapping me on the shoulder. “And keep your eyes open. I heard you’re already on babysitting duty, and I’d hate to see my brother have to discipline you again, Dom.”

  Discipline…a nice way of putting it. Like labeling the scars littering my body as “training.” Nobody would ever accuse my old man of sparing any rods.

  “Yessir,” I replied.

  Carlo gave us a few locations to check into, and dismissed us. We climbed into
Michael’s car again, and he drove as I rattled off businesses. Each of the borgatas (crime families) had a turf consisting of the businesses they owned, ran, or protected. My family offered protection to several local businesses, but our best investment had come in 1986 when Father had gone in with a couple of his allies to start up a corporation, which currently owned three casinos—the Big Top, the Oasis, and the Round Table—with plans for two more to go in toward the end of 1993. Father’s most influential Las Vegas ally, Don Caruso, ran the Big Top. My family operated out of the Oasis, and the Round Table—which had only been open for two years—was currently in the hands of Don Pelino, boring Valentina’s father.

  Father’s enemy, the reigning capo dei cappi (or boss of bosses) of Las Vegas, Don Maurizio Durante, owned a controlling share of our rival corporation, which currently held six casinos: Pelican, Nero’s, Sammy’s, The Columbian, Blackbeard’s, and the Jafar’s. The Durante family operated out of Nero’s and the Columbian, putting their allies in charge of their four remaining casinos. My family made nice with Don Durante’s allies, but we stayed the hell out of any properties Maruizio ran directly. I wouldn’t put it past the crazy son-of-a-bitch to gun us down in cold blood in the middle of one of his casinos. Best not to tempt him.

  Still, Carlo had kept all rival casinos off our list. Everyone knew Michael and I were Marianis, so we’d have cameras on us from the moment we entered the lobbies and nobody would dare talk to us. Instead, Carlo had me and Michael sticking to the neutral casinos.

  We covered the Mojave, the Caribbean, and the Imperial Casino. In each, we respectfully approached the managers and explained enough to show Chains as a threat we needed to unite on, while careful not to make our family sound vulnerable or weakened by the attack. The managers promised to alert their staff and pass on the information about the reward being offered.

  After the casinos, we started the onerous task of covering Vegas’s many restaurants. On our fifth one, we stumbled across another lead.

  “Yeah, I know Chains,” a cook by the name of Leslie said. We’d caught her out back of some greasy spoon restaurant off East Desert Inn Road, dingy apron slung over her shoulder as she puffed on a lit cigarette. I lit up my own smoke and joined her. “What’d that idiot do now?” she asked.