Gian (Trassato Crime Family Book 1) Page 4

  I pulled a gun out of the waistband of my pants. “I strongly advise you to start showing me some respect, or you won’t like the consequences. And yes, this came from him.” I brushed my hand along my jaw to indicate I meant Dominick. To avoid being caught on a wiretap fingering Dominick for a crime, we weren’t allowed to say his name out loud in circumstances like this, so we touched or pointed to our jaw.

  Tommy dropped his hands, his eyes wild. “I’m sorry, Gian. I had some shit come up this week. It won’t happen again.”

  “By shit coming up, do you mean skimming money from deadbeats to feed your drug habit?” I asked.

  “I don’t do drugs, and I would never steal money from the family.”

  I released the slide of my gun. “Is that right?”

  He held up his hands in surrender. “I borrowed some here and there, but I’ll pay you back.”

  “When?”

  Tommy swallowed hard and then grabbed a white handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his face. “Tonight. I can borrow the money from my brother.” His brother wasn’t part of the Trassato family. He owned a deli in Bensonhurst.

  I pointed at Tony Red. “Check his pockets.”

  Tony Red grabbed Tommy by his collar and wrenched him to his feet. He pulled a roll of cash out of one pocket and a bag of white powder out of the other. He handed them both to me and shoved Tommy back into the chair.

  I stuffed the roll of cash in my pocket. “How much is here?”

  Tommy licked his lips. “Two grand.”

  “You owe me ten grand more.”

  Tommy nodded without giving me eye contact. “Okay. I can get it tonight.”

  “What about this?” I asked, holding up the plastic bag filled with white powder.

  He rubbed his hands up and down his thighs. “Somebody gave it to me at the club. I wasn’t going to touch it.”

  I threw the bag at his face. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.” He glanced at me then looked away. His eyes were red and dilated. “You’re a soldier. You’re a member of this family, and you’re walking around high as a fucking kite. People see you shoving drugs up your nose. You’re making a fool of yourself, and you’re making the family look incompetent.”

  “I don’t do drugs,” he said, shaking his head furiously.

  “So you’re telling me if I had you pee in a cup, it’d come back clean?”

  “Fuck you.” He jumped to his feet, and the chair fell backward, clacking against the floor. Contempt slithered across his face. “What I do in my free time is none of your business. If I want to do a few lines or get drunk, I’ll do it. The family doesn’t own me. You don’t own me, and Dominick sure as hell doesn’t own me.”

  In a matter of seconds, Tony Red had his gun out. I held up my hand to stop him, but he didn’t bother looking at me for approval. He pulled the trigger.

  Tommy tumbled to the ground with a loud thud. His head bounced on the floor like a ball. Blood stained the front of his white shirt. His dark eyes stared sightlessly at the ceiling.

  I wiped a splatter of blood on my cheek with the back of my hand. “Tony, what the hell? Do you realize what you did? We weren’t supposed to kill him.”

  Tony shoved his gun into the holster hidden inside of his suit. “I couldn’t take his shit anymore. He mentioned him, he disrespected you, he skimmed money, and I was sick of him talking to us like we’re a bunch of jerk-offs. If you get in trouble from the higher ups, you can pin this on me. I don’t care. He deserved to die.”

  I ran my hands through my hair, my mind searching for a way out of this mess. Dominick wouldn’t like that Tommy ended up dead. If we explained the situation, he’d probably think Tony was justified, but it reflected poorly on me that I couldn’t control my soldiers. “Carlo, go out the side door, and pull the car around. Tony will carry out the body.”

  “What are we going to do with him?” Carlo asked. I threw the plastic bag of cocaine on top of Tommy’s lifeless form.

  “Dump his body along with the drugs on the street in the Bronx. Make the police believe it was a drug deal gone bad.”

  Carlo folded his arms across his chest. “What are you going to do?”

  “Clean up this fucking mess.” I gestured to the door. “Now move, before this blows up in our face.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Evangeline

  Exhausted, cold, and beyond pissed off were the only words to describe how I felt when I yanked on the exit door to Gian’s nightclub, and it didn’t budge. I wandered to the corner of the building and watched the people laughing, talking, hugging, and stumbling as they left the nightclub.

  Leaning against the brick wall, I brushed strands of my hair away from my face and tipped my head to the sky. Things like this only happened to me. I must have done some seriously bad stuff in my previous life to deserve my nonstop run of back luck, or maybe it meant I needed to suck it up, pack my bags, and move home.

  Resigned to waiting until the full hour expired to go back inside, I closed my eyes. An air conditioning unit thrummed somewhere in the shadows. I shivered. The early summer air had grown damp and clammy since I’d sent the taxi driver away after exchanging phone numbers. He’d been surprisingly accommodating.

  Less than thirty seconds later, the side door swooshed open. A dark-haired man in a pinstriped suit kicked a wooden wedge under the bottom of the door and jogged down the street.

  I didn’t waste a second. When he disappeared around the corner, I shimmied through the opening, careful not to disturb the wedge. I slipped off my heels so I wouldn’t make any noise and tiptoed across the hall, the cold concrete stinging my bare feet. The door to Gian’s office was cracked. I paused by the entrance, listening for voices. First came the low rumble of Gian’s voice followed by a muffled voice I didn’t recognize.

  With one hand balanced on the doorjamb, I leaned forward and peeked inside. Unlike the bright overhead fluorescent lights in the hallway, Gian’s office was dimly lit. When my eyes adjusted to the light, I saw a man with his arms and his legs spread wide on the floor, a dark liquid staining the front of his shirt. I leaned forward another inch. The man looked vacant, pale, and his eyes were fixed and unblinking. Then reality slapped me in the face. He was dead.

  An involuntary gasp skipped from my mouth. My heart exploded in my chest, and my knees buckled. I reached for the wall to stop my fall, and my shoes slipped out of my grasp, clattering onto the floor.

  My head jerked up, and my gaze collided with Gian’s. His golden eyes looked like the fires of Hell, his face a blank mask. Long seconds ticked by. I rolled my neck, trying to clear my foggy brain and backpedaled a few steps. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude. I forgot my purse. I’ll come back later.”

  “Evangeline, come in here. We need to talk,” he said, his voice hard and forceful.

  I swallowed the lump lodged in my throat. “I have to go.”

  He lunged forward, and I ran. Less than six steps later, his arms closed around my waist. My muscles tensed, and adrenaline surged through me. My heart drummed erratically inside my chest. My arms flailed wildly through the air like a wounded animal. I donkey-kicked backward, and he grunted. Within seconds, he whirled me around and pinned me to the wall. The bass from the music in the club vibrated the drywall, shaking my bones.

  “Let go of me,” I hissed through gritted teeth, ignoring the stomach-churning cocktail of anger and fear swirling inside of me.

  “Listen,” he hissed. “You need to shut the fuck up and do everything I say, or you will end up at the bottom of the Hudson River. Got it?”

  I sucked in a breath. “My friends know I’m here. They’re waiting right outside for me. They’ll call the cops if I don’t come out in a few minutes.”

  “You’re lying.”

  I stared at the floor so he couldn’t see my eyes. “You don’t know that.”

  His frame curved over mine, his dark eyes imprisoning me, and my shoulders slumped. “I won’t hurt you,” he whispered, his lips
brushing against my earlobe. I squeezed my eyes, hating the equal measures of lust and terror whirling inside my gut like a tornado. “But I can’t promise my associates won’t unless you play along right now.”

  Tears swelled in the corners of my eyes. “How? What do you want me to do?”

  His thumb brushed over my lower lip, and I struggled to take a breath. “You can start by painting a smile on your face and acting like you’re not afraid of me.”

  Every instinct told me to fight. My mind circled through a dozen or more escape plans, all with equally horrific endings. “How do I know I can trust you?” I said softly.

  “You don’t have a choice. You don’t have any bargaining power right now.”

  “I won’t tell anyone about this, not even Carmela. Let me go, and we’ll never see each other again.”

  His mouth flattened. “No.”

  The pads of his fingers brushed over my nipples, and pleasure zigzagged through my nerve endings. Damn my body.

  “I hate you,” I whispered, glaring daggers at him.

  “Get over it.” A click sounded behind us.

  “Put down the fucking gun, Tony. You’re not killing my fiancée tonight,” Gian said.

  My eyes widened, and he captured my ear between his teeth. “Follow my lead.” He spun around and enveloped me in a one-armed embrace.

  Gian’s friend silently inspected me like a wad of gum on the bottom of his shoe. “This chick is really your fiancée?”

  “Yes. Why the fuck would I lie?”

  Whistling, the man slipped his gun back inside his jacket. “Fuck, Gian. When the hell did this happen? Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

  “Evangeline is a friend of Carmela’s.” Gian smirked. “You know how she is. She’d kick my ass if she thought I came within a mile of any of her friends.”

  “Yeah, you’re right about that. Carmela is a firecracker.” With a smoky chuckle, he held out his hand. “I’m Tony.”

  I didn’t make a move to shake his hand—then, Gian squeezed my shoulder and gave me a minute shake of his head. I caved.

  “Nice to meet you,” I said, my voice as weak as my handshake.

  “What the fuck is going on?” a man shouted behind us. “Who the hell is she?”

  The man who propped open the door charged down the hall with his gun drawn. Gian shoved me behind him.

  “Carlo,” Gian said through clenched teeth. “Don’t point a gun at my fiancée.”

  Carlo’s eyebrows snapped together. “Why is she back here?”

  “The door was propped open,” I muttered.

  “You left the door open?” Gian’s body vibrated with barely restrained rage.

  Carlo shrugged, his heated stare roving down to my thighs and back up. “I didn’t think anyone would be dumb enough to sneak inside.”

  “Exactly,” Gian countered, his voice icy. “You didn’t think. Carlo, help Tony and Sal wrap up the body, and get it out of here. I have shit to do.”

  “We’re ready to go, and Sal cleaned up your office,” Tony answered.

  “Call me when it’s done.” Gian guided me into his office. “Sit,” he said, gesturing to the sofa.

  I plopped down and buried my head in my hands. “What do we do now?”

  “We go to Carmela’s house and pack your bags. You’re moving in with me.”

  I lifted my head. “No fucking way. I don’t know you, and based on what I witnessed a few minutes ago, I don’t want to know you.”

  “Sorry, sweetheart.” He twisted my hair around his finger and I shivered. “Until I know I can trust you, and I can convince everyone else to trust you, you’re going to be living with me as my fiancée. It’s the only way to keep you safe.”

  Sweetheart? What decade is this? And why do I like him calling me that? What is wrong with me?

  I wouldn’t call myself a feminist or anything. I liked a man who opened an occasional door for me and picked up the tab after a nice meal. Lord knew, I wished Kevin had done more of those things when we were together rather than acting like a self-absorbed asshole.

  I lowered my lashes and tugged on the hem of my skirt. My nerves were fraught, and I couldn’t speak, so I stared unblinking for a prolonged beat. “How does pretending I’m your fiancée do anything?”

  “That’s the way things work in my world. As long as you’re my fiancée, no one will touch you. When things calm down, we can both get back to our lives, and this will all be forgotten.”

  I bit my lower lip to stop myself from crying. “I don’t get it. Why are you doing this? Why do you care what happens to me?”

  Exhaling, he scrubbed his hand down his face. His eyes darkened like a storm was brewing inside of him, but the emotion disappeared nearly as quickly as it materialized. “Because you’re important to my sister.”

  I picked at tiny threads in my skirt, trying to comprehend everything that had happened. “What are we going to tell Carmela?”

  He loosened his tie and opened the top two buttons on his shirt. Reaching out, he gently brushed his fingertips along my cheek. “That it was love at first sight or that we’ve been seeing each other secretly for a while.”

  My face heated. “She won’t believe us.”

  He managed a faint smile that failed to reach his eyes. I couldn’t get a good read on this man. “It’s your job to make her believe, sweetheart.”

  “Fine. I’ll do my best.” I squared my shoulders, desperately trying to suppress the dread and hopelessness raging through me. I needed to find a way out of this mess.

  He tossed my purse in my lap. “Let’s get out of here. We’ll be lucky to catch Carmela while she’s still awake if we wait much longer.”

  I rose to my feet, fleetingly wishing I had the power to transport myself back in time to the moment before I injured my ankle. I would have marched off the stage before I jumped, I would have broken up with Kevin, and I would have stayed far away from Gianluca Trassato. Too bad wishing and hoping were useless.

  I followed Gian out of the building, feeling more alone than ever.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Gian

  Evie stared at the door to the apartment she shared with my sister, her eyes shuttered and her mouth pinched.

  I threaded my fingers between hers and tilted my head toward the door. “Do you have keys?”

  She dropped her head and swayed into me. For a split second, I thought her knees would buckle under the weight of what we needed to do. I coiled my arm around her waist, drinking in the sweet scent of her strawberry-colored hair. Having her in my life and home would be a disaster, but I had made my choice, and I wouldn’t back down after I gave my word. She needed my protection.

  She cleared her throat and wiggled out of my hold, her sharp elbow wedging beneath my ribs like a dagger.

  “Don’t touch me.” Her hand dove into a tiny clutch purse, and she pulled out a keychain with a lone key dangling from a pair of gold ballet slippers.

  “Get over yourself. You were about to fall.”

  Her eyes hardened. “I was not.” Her shoulders snapped back, and like magic, the hesitation and powerlessness rolling off her disappeared.

  I snatched the key out of her hand and unlocked and opened the door in a matter of seconds. Evie stepped in front of me, her head held high and her hands wrapped around her purse like it was a shield.

  Carmela sat on the sofa, fiddling with her iPod. She caught my gaze, and her brows snapped together. “Hey, guys.” She slipped off her headphones and rested them around her neck. “What’s going on? Did you give Evie a ride?”

  I glanced at Evie. She stood frozen, her muscles tensed, and her eyes wide like she didn’t know what to say. “Um,” she muttered. What was her problem? Either she sure was a piss poor actress or Carmela had lied to me.

  I settled into the gray and white chevron patterned club chair. “Listen, Evie is going to move into my place.”

  My sister shook her head slowly like she didn’t understand what I had said. “You mean at
the apartment above your bar? I thought Evie decided she didn’t want to work there.”

  I rubbed my hand over my lips. As much as I hated lying to my sister, I didn’t have a choice. While our dad always did his best to protect her from the ugly side of being affiliated with the Trassato Crime Family, and I intended to do the same, that didn’t mean she was in the dark. She’d seen enough over the years to know our family was about more than love, loyalty, and tradition. And if she didn’t get the full picture as a kid, she sure as hell understood when her fiancé was rushed to the hospital with four bullet holes in his chest after a shootout with the DiTonnos.

  “No. She’s going to move into my home with me.”

  “What?” She jumped to her feet with her hands curled into tight balls next to her black lounge pants. “Why the hell would she do that?”

  “Carmela,” Evie said, her hand dropping onto the top of my shoulder. “Gian and I…” She paused, visibly swallowed, and plastered a megawatt smile on her face. “We’re dating.”

  Carmela’s attention locked on me like a sharp shooter. “Dating? You broke up with the art douche last week, and my brother doesn’t date. He…he…” she flicked her wrist in my direction, “has meaningless flings that last hours, not days or months.”

  Coming to my feet, I slipped an arm around Evie’s waist, acutely aware of the way her body stiffened under my hand. Carmela needed to shut the hell up so Evie didn’t end up more suspicious of my motives and me than she already was. I needed her compliant and trusting if our ruse had any chance of succeeding.

  “That stopped the minute I met Evie,” I said.

  Carmela’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you seriously trying to convince me you are a changed man as of…” she glanced at the clock on the wall above her long rectangular fireplace with zen-like black rocks lining the bottom “…three hours ago?”

  Evie leaned her head against my shoulder, strands of her silken hair tangling in my whiskers. “Carmela, we met a few months ago. We were friendly in the beginning, but it recently evolved into more.”