Forever Lies (The Five Families Book 1)

by Jill Ramsower

  Nothing.

  Pulling out my pocketknife, I jimmied the lock, and her door popped open, the deadbolt not in use. I scanned the room, instantly zeroing in on her purse set on the counter. Inside were her keys, phone, and wallet.

  Shit! Fuck!

  I didn’t have my gun with me, so I took a knife from the kitchen and slowly scoped out the apartment. It was empty, no signs of a struggle, nothing out of place. If I’d gone to the cops, which was never going to happen, they’d probably tell me she’d gone for a walk, but I knew that wasn’t the case.

  Alessia had been taken.

  Grabbing my phone, I dialed Enzo, thanking God her father had given me his number before I’d left his house.

  “Yeah.”

  “Enzo, this is Luca. We got a real problem—Alessia’s been taken.”

  Silence. “How do you know?” His voice had gone steely. I was about to see a side of Enzo Genovese that had been dormant for a long time.

  “She didn’t answer my texts or calls, so I came to her place. Her purse is here with everything in it—phone, keys—but she’s not here. She knows the dangers; I’d just told her she wasn’t to go anywhere without an escort. Her driver brought her home, but someone must have taken her as soon as she got here.”

  He was silent for a moment, and I waited for his instruction. He far outranked me, even if he was from a different outfit.

  “Let me make some calls. You check out the security office at her building and see what the cameras show.”

  “Got it.” The phone clicked dead, and I resisted the urge to launch the device against the wall. How could I have fucked this up so badly? I’d been watching her, warned her and her father, got information to the Commission as fast as I could, and it hadn’t been enough. Alessia was gone, and all I could do was hope she was still alive.

  After threatening to cut off his balls, I was finally able to get the concierge to take me back to the security office. The surveillance film for the lobby over the previous hour showed only residents coming and going. When we pulled up the footage for the fourteenth floor, the recording started just thirty minutes earlier. Everything prior to that had been erased.

  “Is there another way up, aside from the front lobby?” I asked the older man who was clearly shaken.

  “There’s a service elevator and emergency exit out the back.”

  “Are there cameras in those locations?”

  “No. The backdoor stays locked, and the service elevator requires a keycard.”

  Whoever had done this had been savvy enough to cover their tracks. I thanked the man for his help and called Enzo to give him an update. He instructed me to call my underboss and have him meet us at Tedesco’s, a small Italian joint in Little Italy. The old-timers used to base their operations in that area, but things didn’t work that way anymore. With modern technology, there was no reason to be so predictable. Little Italy existed for tourists, that was about it.

  When I arrived, I was escorted to a basement where an ancient table and chairs were set up in the middle of the room. The scene was straight out of an old gangster movie—empty cellar with a single dangling light over a rectangular table, highlighting the angles of each severe face below. Enzo was there with his brother, Edoardo, who had been acting as his Consigliere. The two brothers had relied too heavily on Sal for information, both completely ignorant to what had been going on. Next to them sat my underboss, Michael Abbatelli, who nodded as I entered the room. Along with them, the Moretti underboss sat at the table, face stoic as he waited to hear why everyone had been gathered.

  “What’s the plan?” I asked, not allowing any of my wariness to enter my voice.

  “We’re waiting on the Giordano and Gallo representatives to show up, then we talk,” said Enzo, his features devoid of emotion. I was impressed. He’d managed to call together an impromptu meeting of The Five Families. The only seats missing from the Commission were those occupied by the Chicago Outfit, but this was too short of notice to get them here.

  I went to stand on the back wall, knowing it was not my place to sit at the table with the underbosses, when Enzo spoke up.

  “Have a seat,” he motioned to a chair across from him. “You’re just as much a part of this as the rest of us.”

  I followed his instructions and sat at the table next to Abbetelli. Moments later, steps sounded on the wooden stairs. I tensed as Matteo De Luca, underboss of the Gallo family, came into view. He was an intimidating bastard—tattoos inked on each finger and snaking up from the collar of his dress shirt. There was nothing subtle or demure about him. He made no attempt to hide who he was or mask the nature of his dealings. He didn’t draw unnecessary attention, but he also didn’t try to fit in with civilized society.

  “De Luca, I appreciate you joining us. I know this is rather unorthodox.” Enzo stood, an offering of respect to the rival family. He had to be fuming inside—his calm exterior was truly impressive.

  De Luca was in his late thirties, young for an underboss, but he was good at commanding respect. He too had his game face on, making it impossible to tell if we were about to have a civil discussion or unleash a bloody war.

  “Unorthodox, yes, but also reminiscent of the old days.” Matteo gazed around the musty basement. “You appear to have a nostalgic side. I remember sitting upstairs as a kid while my father had meets down here.”

  “From what I’ve learned recently, I knew trust would be hard to come by. I figured old Gallo stomping grounds would give me a better shot of getting you to show up.”

  Matteo gave a nod with a tight smirk that held no humor. “There’s been some very bad blood between our families, and recent months have not made things any better.”

  The door above creaked open, and all eyes turned to the stairs as the Giordano underboss joined the party. Each man had come with one or two soldiers who now stood lined against the walls, eyeing the room cautiously.

  “Excellent,” Enzo said, drawing everyone’s attention. “Now that we’re all here, we can get started. Edoardo has our Chicago associates on speakerphone, so we don’t leave them out of the discussion. I understand this was very unexpected, and I appreciate everyone giving me their time today. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen all of you, some I’ve never had the pleasure of meeting. From here on out, that changes. It’s been brought to my attention my absence from the scene has enabled my underboss to commit some unforgivable acts in my name. I want to assure each of you, I in no way sanctioned his actions.” As he spoke, Enzo held the eyes of each man at the table, one-by-one, professing his veracity. “We’ve all gone back to the old ways—silent in our operations and demanding absolute adherence to our code. I thought if I remained a ghost, invisible to even my own outfit, it would protect me and my family. If you ever have the misfortune of losing a child, you would know there is no greater pain. In trying to protect myself from outsiders, I made myself vulnerable to an attack from the inside.”

  “I appreciate your efforts to smooth things over,” cut in Matteo. “But how are we supposed to trust you aren’t just throwing Sal under the bus?” His point had been valid, and everyone in the room seemed interested in the answer.

  “Because my daughter is missing. I never, ever would have intentionally set in motion events that would so clearly lead to retaliation against my own. Certainly not without taking the proper precautions first. Do you think I’d be fucking stupid enough to have a Gallo man killed the day after I’d met with him?” Enzo’s fervor let slip the first signs of just how deeply he was affected.

  Every man in the room shifted at his announcement, and the tension thickened more than I’d thought possible. The room had already been stifling; now, it was downright oppressive.

  “How long has she been missing?” asked Abbatelli.

  “About two hours, give or take.” He turned to Matteo and addressed him directly. “I fear this is a retaliation hit for the Venturi death, which would mean a Gallo was behind h
er disappearance. I know it can’t be easy to trust me, but I will be in your debt if you will help me get her back.”

  Matteo remained unmoved, only the slightest lift of his chin gave any indication that he’d heard Enzo at all. “There must be blood for blood—how do you propose that’s handled?”

  “Sal.” There was no hesitation in Enzo’s response. “The moment I get him into my custody, he’s yours.”

  The room sat in excruciating silence for long seconds before Matteo nodded and stood. “I’ll take this to my boss and let you know his decision.” He exited the basement, followed by his two soldiers, and the room seemed to fill with fresh oxygen.

  “Holy shit, Enzo, you know how to make an entrance,” came the Moretti underboss, wiping beads of sweat from his forehead. Postures relaxed, and the room filled with the shuffling of sound.

  “Trust me, this isn’t how I’d have preferred to show back up. If I’d have known this would happen, I never would have taken a back seat.” His tone was morose, and the room got quiet again.

  Enzo visited with the remaining underbosses, renewing his connections and assuring them things were going to change in the Lucciano family. Unable to sit still any longer, I started to make my way back upstairs when Enzo called out to me.

  “Luca, wait for me outside.” His tone was casual, but the unknown reason for his request coiled my already tense muscles even further.

  I waited under the old red awning out front as each of the men slowly dispersed. Eventually, Enzo and his brother stepped outside, Enzo placing a grateful hand on his brother’s back. They exchanged a few quiet words before parting ways, and Enzo turned his hard gaze my direction.

  “I want you to promise me you won’t go after her.”

  I wasn’t sure what I expected, but that hadn’t been it.

  Enzo strolled over, hands in his pockets, his face a map of worry lines that hadn’t been visible at our first encounter.

  “What am I supposed to do—go home and watch television? I can’t sit by while she’s missing.” No fucking way. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to her while I was sipping a beer, pretending everything was peachy.

  “You don’t think I want to do the same damn thing?” he spat back, renewed spark giving heat to his words. “That’s my daughter out there, in the hands of God knows who. However, there are protocols that must be followed. We go in with guns blazing, nothing good will come of it. You kill someone getting her back, only to end up with a price on your head, isn’t going to help. If anything can be done to get her back, Matteo will make it happen. He knows how huge it would be for me to owe him. The only thing we can do now is wait.”

  He was right, and I fucking hated it.

  I whirled and kicked one of the small metal dinette chairs on the sidewalk patio, sending the thing clattering onto its side. Pain blossomed in my foot but did little to ease the suffocating frustration sitting like a heavy boulder on my chest.

  “Get it out—go to the gym or do whatever you need to but keep your nose out of trouble. I’ll call you when I hear something.”

  I offered him a nod and stomped back to my car, unable to unclench my teeth long enough to say a word in response. I had no idea what I’d planned on doing to look for her, but having the option taken from me made me feel even more helpless.

  I sat in my car, boxed in by the deafening silence. I couldn’t remember ever feeling so fucking powerless. What was I supposed to do—go home and pretend Alessia wasn’t out there in trouble? I slammed my hands on the steering wheel. The only thing that would remotely help was the gym, so I started the car and drove like an asshole to the one place where I could get out the rage eating me alive.

  24

  Alessia

  I wasn’t sure how long he worked on me.

  The minutes when I was under his knife felt like hours, and the time between sessions seemed like mere seconds. He had drawn out removing my clothes, taking pleasure in my fear, milking every ounce of terror from my quivering body without even harming me.

  Only after I was naked before him did Rico begin his real work. He explained that back in his homeland, he was called ‘the Surgeon’ for his skill with a knife. His technique was something akin to the Chinese death by a thousand cuts. Slowly and methodically, he sliced his knife across my delicate flesh countless times, turning me inside out, one cut at a time.

  My arms. My stomach. My legs.

  Cut after excruciating cut, I bled and silently wept.

  He was precise and meticulous, moving at a torturously slow pace. No single cut was deep enough to endanger me nor give me substantial enough pain to allow me the mercy of passing out. I was forced to lie there awake, listening to him hum as he mutilated my body.

  I was glad I couldn’t see his work. The feel of warm blood dripping down my cool skin was nauseating enough. How long could someone survive this brand of depraved torture? How much blood could a body lose before the organs gave up and shut down? I didn’t want to die. I was utterly terrified, and there was no escape from the fear.

  The pain was intense, but it was the fear that was crippling.

  I prayed in my head, over and over, that I would live to see my family again.

  I swore vengeance if I could get free.

  I cursed Sal and Rico a thousand awful deaths and struggled with blame and guilt.

  The one thing I didn’t do was beg to die.

  Soaked in my own blood and urine, drifting in agony and lost in a sea of fear, I was steadfast in my desire to live.

  We were alone for the entire duration. I had no idea if Sal remained nearby, or if I’d been left entirely alone with Rico, which is why it startled me when the door clicked open. I couldn’t see who had entered, but I could see Rico when his chin lifted, and his spine went rigid. His response sent a new surge of panic racing through my veins.

  “Frederico, tell me if I’m wrong, but I don’t believe the boss gave orders for retribution just yet.” The voice was confident, steeped in power and control.

  Rico paled, but his rigid stance remained unyielding. “They took the life of my cousin—there must be blood taken in return.”

  The newcomer strolled closer until I could see his penetrating eyes holding Rico captive. He was older than me, perhaps late thirties, and much more refined than my torturer. Aside from swirls of ink against his skin, he could have been a powerful politician or business mogul in his expensive suit with a neatly groomed beard. Each calculated step he took was a measured warning.

  He never dropped his gaze to my flayed, bloody flesh as if this was something he’d seen before and was unbothered by the image. “An arrangement has been worked out—the girl was not part of the bargain.” Finally, the man’s eyes drifted down to me, and a whimper forced its way past the tape still glued to my lips. “You’re fortunate, however. She’s still alive, which means you’ll survive this ordeal, but there will be consequences.” His eyes flitted back up to Rico, who dropped his chin to his chest, finally conceding submission.

  “Thank you, Matteo. I didn’t know there was an arrangement,” he muttered in broken English.

  “That’s because you never asked. This will be your only warning—step out of line again, and it will be the last move you make.”

  Rico nodded and scurried from the room like the sewer rat he was. My chest shuddered with the force of a restrained sob, overcome with emotion. It sounded like I was going to be freed, but perhaps I had only heard what I’d wanted to hear. When Matteo peered back down at me, the space between his brows lightly creased, and his lips thinned as he studied me.

  He took out his phone, hitting a number on autodial. “Get Jacobs here immediately and bring a woman’s robe, something soft.” He hung up as soon as the words were out and slipped his phone back in his pocket. “We’re going to get you cleaned up before I return you to your father.”

  He took hold of the corner of the tape over my mouth and pulled it free in a si
ngle yank. The sudden pain and immense relief I would be going home brought on a deluge of uncontrollable sobs. One-by-one, Matteo freed my arms and legs from their restraints, but when I tried to sit up, he pressed my shoulder back down.

  “I’ve got a doctor coming. I know you want to get out of here and aren’t crazy about being naked, but you have to wait a little longer.” His words were clinical, emotionless—he may have been freeing me, but it was not out of the kindness of his heart.

  This was business.

  I wasn’t going to argue. Matteo appeared to be running the show and claimed he was going to take me home—if that meant walking there naked, I’d do it.

  He took out his phone again, and this time, I recognized the curt greeting on the other end, and the sound brought on a new wave of silent tears.

  “I’ve got her. She’s a little worse for wear but otherwise okay. I’ll get her to you as soon as the doctor has looked her over.” Matteo glanced down at me. “Yeah, here she is.” He held the phone out, and I took it in my shaking hands.

  “Daddy?” I rasped.

  “Lessi, thank God. Are you okay?” The relief in his voice and the use of my old nickname did me in. My aching chest swelled with warmth as tear after tear cascaded down my blotchy cheeks.

  “I’m okay. I want to go home,” I whispered shakily.

  “I know, sweetie. You’ll be home soon—now give the phone back to Matteo.” I did as he instructed, a sense of calm settling over me after hearing my father’s voice.

  The doctor showed up not long after and tended to my wounds. Some were shallow enough to have stopped bleeding on their own, others required sutures and butterfly bandages. The process took at least an hour. As each cut was doctored, he gently wiped the excess blood from my skin and moved to the next. Only when every square inch of me had been treated did he help me into the ivory robe that had arrived with him.

  Another thirty minutes later, Matteo was pulling up to my parent’s house. My father met us at the car while my mother watched from an inside window, most likely instructed by my father to stay safely inside. Each movement I made was painful, but it was infinitely more bearable knowing I was going home. My father opened my door and gingerly helped me out of the car. Matteo came around to the passenger side, and the two men eyed each other like big cats caged next to one another at the zoo.