Clean Slate (New Mafia Trilogy #2) (21 page)

           
“If I get a vote, I want you to stay.” He leaned against
me, lightly bumping his shoulder against mine, but then he grew serious and his
mouth turned down in a frown as he stared at his hands. “We need to consider
they might not be successful in killing Marco. If that’s the case we have to
figure out a way to get you extracted from all of this. What about police
protection? “

           
“No, absolutely not,” I shut the idea down before he
could go any further. “We talked about this before and I will not be a rat.”

He turned to face me.
“Well you need to consider it, Natalie. It might be your only option.”

           
“Jase,” I made sure he was looking me in the eyes so he
could see how serious I was. “I mean it, no.” I got up and left him sitting on
the bed. While I appreciated Jason trying to help, he didn’t understand this
world and was wading into waters swimming with sharks. Not just little sand
sharks either, but Great Whites.

***

Jason didn’t bring up
going to the authorities again and by the time we returned to work two nights
later, it was business as usual except when I went up to the bar with drink
orders, Jason was scowling. One quick survey revealed Victor at the end facing
me. He wiggled his fingers and smirked.

           
“Why is he here again?” Jason asked with an angry
emphasis on “he”.

Victor didn’t have to
stay at the bar while I worked; he usually escorted me back and forth.
“Obviously he takes his protection detail seriously or he likes to be annoying.
I’m going with both.”

Jason chuckled at that
as he filled two pint glasses with beer from the tap. “He doesn’t have to be
here. I’ve got your back.”

           
“Jase, no offense, but these guys are unpredictable and
scary. I’m not happy about having Victor following me around, but I do feel
safer.”

           
“And I want you safe, it’s just…” he paused and glanced
over his shoulder at Victor. “He’s not into you, is he?”

           
“No. Absolutely not.” After the awkward kiss at Gio’s,
Victor had maintained a strictly professional level.
 

           
“Okay, good.” He placed the last of my drink orders on
the tray and I leaned across the bar, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.
“You’re cute when you’re jealous,” I teased.

           
“Back to work you two,” Collin called, giving me a wink
and chucking a piece of ice at Jason.

I laughed and lifted
the tray onto my shoulder. As I made my way through the crowd, I felt more than
one set of eyes following my retreat.

I was getting used to
Victor’s presence, which was hard to do. He was big, had tattoos and piercings.
He was intimidating, except when he was wiggling his fingers at me from across
the bar. Did I feel safe with Jason? Yes, to a point, but he wasn’t a killer.
Victor was and he was prepared to kill in order to keep me alive. Just his
presence alone was a warning to others.

At the end of the
night, the lights came up and Tom, one of Dirty’s two bouncers, locked the main
entrance behind the last patron to leave. We closed out, cleaned and spent a
few minutes chilling around the bar. Jason and Collin were still restocking so
I grabbed a stool nearest to where Jason was working. He handed me a vodka and
cranberry, adding a toothpick loaded with three maraschino cherries, which I
immediately devoured, savoring the sticky sweetness.
 

It was about a half an
hour later when we walked out together. Collin and Jason were making surfing
plans for that afternoon. I spied Victor leaning against the side of his black
Audi roadster. His long legs, clad in dark jeans, stretched out before him. His
arms were crossed over his chest; the sleeve of tattoos on both forearms stood
out against his black t-shirt and the parking lot light glinted off of his
eyebrow piercing when he nodded at me. I walked over to meet him.

           
“Hey Princess,” he said.

I rolled my eyes at his
nickname for me, which made him chuckle. “You don’t have to babysit me at work
every night, you know. Don’t you have somebody famous to ink?”

In the distance, a car
door slammed and Victor went on full alert, giving the parking lot a cursory
survey before focusing his dark eyes back on me. He was being extraordinarily
attentive, like Grant and Dominic had concentrated their overprotectiveness and
injected it into him.

           
“Victor, is something going on that you’re not telling
me?”

           
“Yes, now get in the car and I’ll fill you in.” He started
to tug on my arm, but I stood my ground, refusing to be moved around like a
piece on a chess board.

I shook my arm free
from his grip and glared at Victor. He may have been a foot taller than me and
easily a hundred pounds heavier, and carrying a gun, but I refused to be
bullied.

Collin had left and
Jason hovered over by his BMW, eyes narrowed, watching Victor. “Jase, chill, Victor
has an update for me and he’s acting super-protective.”

           
“Are you okay?” He asked.

           
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll see you later.”

           
“Let’s go,” I said, walking back to Victor. He met me at
the passenger door, holding it open.

           
“Your chariot awaits, Princess.” The inside of Victor’s
roadster was like a small, luxury cave with limo grade tint on the windows and
the an black interior. Victor slid in and started the engine, which was barely
audible. He set his cell phone in a cup holder and put the car in drive. He
pulled out onto a deserted street. It was 3:00 am and probably the only time
when L.A. streets weren’t jammed with cars.

           
“Okay, what’s going on?” I asked.

           
‘There’s been an update.”

           
“What’s wrong?” I studied Victor and noticed how tightly
he gripped the steering wheel.
 
He chewed
on his lip piercing, a habit I learned he did when he was thinking, leading me
to believe he was picking out certain things to tell me. “Victor, are you going
to answer me? Are Dom and Grant okay?”

He exhaled slowly and
glanced at me, the reflection of dashboard lights illuminating his dark eyes.
“They’re fine, but,” he paused and licked his lips. “Marco’s suspicious because
we haven’t done anything.”

           
“It’s been less than two days. What about giving Gio
until after New Year’s?”

           
“Yeah, well he upped his reward to 20 grand and that kind
of cash might even make some of Bianchi’s boys greedy.”

           
“What about you? Are you going to cash in? Here I am,
already in your car. What’s stopping you?”

           
“I follow orders and those are to keep you safe, which
means you’re going to be seeing a lot more of me until Marco is taken out.”

PHILADELPHIA

DOMINIC

Grant ended the call
and chucked his phone across my living room, yelling “Fuck!” before it cracked
against the wall.

           
“Jesus Christ, what the fuck is that all about?”

Grant had just returned
from York where he spent Christmas day with his mom. I had the last Eagles game
on my DVR, so we were hanging out watching them lose yet again.

           
“That was Victor. Marco wants to know why Gio hasn’t done
anything about Natalie.”

           
“Shit,” I shot up from where I was sitting on the leather
sectional and started pacing the room, my footsteps muffled by the carpet “What
else did Victor say?”

           
“Gio told Marco that he was working on it and would have
results after the New Year, but apparently Marco upped the price on Nat’s head
to 20 large.”

           
“Fuck. Alright, if Marco isn’t interested in waiting, we
won’t either. Let’s get everyone here as soon as possible.”

           
“I’m on it.” Grant crossed the room to retrieve his
phone, which was surprisingly still intact, except for a cracked screen.

Within two hours Dante,
Johnny, Anthony, Miranda and Paulie had arrived. Miranda surprised me by
showing up with someone else. Allegra walked in behind her, a knit hat was
pulled down low over her forehead and a scarf was wrapped around her face a couple
of times in a thick collar.

           
“Miranda,” I said, pulling her off to the side. “We
agreed nobody else should know.”

           
“Trust me Dom, you want Allegra in on this. Call it
woman’s intuition.”

           
“Fine, but this better be good,” I said, walking into the
living room to join everyone else. That’s when I noticed Allegra’s face. She
had removed her hat and scarf, which had disguised a bruise the color of an
eggplant that covered the upper half of her right cheek, encompassing her eye.
Her lower lip was swollen on the right side and had a nasty split.

           
“Jesus Christ, who did that to you?” I demanded and she
flinched at the question before looking to Miranda.

           
“My dad did this,” Miranda answered for Allegra. “He took
her to The Speak the other night and when she refused his advances, he beat the
shit out of her.”

Allegra’s dad was an
accountant for Marco, but he had been shot and killed during the recent
skirmish with Rocco Nucci and his boys.
 
Brittany, who Allegra was friends with, hung herself not too long after.
To say the girl was emotionally vulnerable was an understatement. Now it made
sense why Miranda brought her along.

           
“I want to help,” Allegra said. “Miranda and I talked; I
can get close to Marco. Slip something in his drink if you want or let you know
where he’s at.”

           
“He’ll never suspect a woman,” Miranda chimed in. “He
doesn’t give us enough credit to pull something like this off.”

           
“I want to be the one who kills him,” I said.

           
“Then I can text you when we go out again,” Allegra said.

           
“It has to be soon.”

           
“New Year’s Eve,” Miranda said, suddenly very animated.
“He always drops mom off after midnight and then he goes out, usually to find
other company.” She glanced across the coffee table at Paulie, whose hands were
clenched so tight the veins on his forearms were raised.

           
“She’s right. Every fucking year he does this. Mom knows
too and she cries herself to sleep. I hear her sobs through the wall,” he said.
I shook my head in disgust; to think I used to respect my uncle.

           
“Allegra, you need to be the one he goes out with that
night. Can you do that?” I asked.

           
“What’s going on? I thought we were waiting until after
the holidays?” Dante asked, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

           
“Marco is putting pressure on Gio to carry out the hit on
Natalie. He’s now offering 20 G’s.”

           
“Oh shit. Yeah, we need to make this happen then.”

I turned my attention
back to Allegra. “Can you do this? You don’t have to, especially after what
he’s done.”

           
“I’ll do it.” Her voice may have been shaky, but she had an
air of fierce determination about her, which convinced me.

We spent the next few
minutes hammering out details. Grant, Allegra, Miranda and I were all going to
be working at Crimson on New Year’s Eve, the biggest night of the year for the
club. After Butter closed, Dante was going to head over to Crimson while
Johnny, Paulie and Anthony were going to stay at Marco’s house. The moment
Marco dropped Aunt Paulina off they were to let me know. Marco was going to be
in the VIP section at Crimson and Allegra was assigned to be the cocktail
waitress there. She had all night to work her magic so Marco would choose her
for his after-hours entertainment. Considering she had yet to put out for him, it
pretty much guaranteed he was going to embrace the challenge and continue
pursuing her. Once they settled somewhere, Allegra was going to text me the
location. Grant and I would then go in and take care of business.

***

NEW YEAR’S EVE

My bar was stocked, the
counters wiped clean with bleach and the crimson velvet cushions on the bar
stools surrounding the bar had all been steam cleaned. The club was ready for
the hundreds who were already lined up outside even though the doors weren’t
scheduled to open until nine. This was the calm before the storm. Once those
doors opened, it was going to be chaos. My mind wasn’t on the tips I’d be
raking in or the flesh that was going to be on display, my thoughts were on
Marco.
 

Leaning against the
bar, I watched as Grant spoke to his bouncers about security protocol. After
the meeting, he walked over to Miranda, who was just coming out of her office.
I knew their minds were on Marco too. Miranda hadn’t shed one tear over the
plan to kill her dad and I was impressed with her stoicism, but worried how much
she was bottling up. Grant said something to her that made her laugh. She threw
her head back, exposing her neck and Grant leaned in for a nuzzle. Giggling,
she wrapped her arms around him before Grant raised his head and sought out her
mouth with his. I quickly looked away since I’d seen enough intimacy between
the two of them to last a lifetime.

A shout from the front
let us know the doors were opening. First a few people trickled in, dressed in
gowns and tuxedos, the next group wasn’t dressed as formally. Soon Crimson was
at capacity and every bar was slammed. The dance floor was packed with gyrating
couples spilling out onto the carpet. I was sweating from the pace and all of
the bodies generated a lot of heat. My black t-shirt clung to my back and I had
to occasionally wipe my forehead with a towel so I didn’t sweat into anyone’s
drink. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Grant gesturing at me. I looked at the
direction he indicated and saw the crowd parting, making way for Marco. Aunt Paulina
followed right behind him, her signature salon colored auburn hair bobbing
through the masses. Our plan was falling into place.

At midnight, hundreds
of red balloons and glittering confetti were unleashed onto the dance floor
from where they had been suspended above by giant nets. Couples embraced under
a shower of red, bringing in the New Year with a kiss, while other couples took
it a step further by having discreet sex in dark corners of the club.

Just as anticipated, at
12:30, Uncle Marco and Aunt Paulina left. My aunt’s facial expression was one
of resigned disappointment. Fifteen minutes later my phone vibrated in my
pocket. Paulie’s text read:
the eagle has
landed
. I laughed and deleted the text before slipping the phone back in my
pocket and finished making a Tom Collins. Soon after, Marco was back and in the
VIP section. Grant walked by my bar and gave me a thumbs-up. Allegra had closed
the deal.

The lights came up and
the music stopped right at 2 am. Walking to the bathroom, I waded through the
usual detritus; plastic drink straws, broken glass, vomit, used condoms, loose
change and even a shirt. That was a new one. When I was returning to clean up
my bar, I noticed Marco leaving with Allegra on his arm. Her lip was no longer
swollen and her make-up camouflaged the bruise. She had changed into a slinky
red sequined dress that barely covered her ass. Oh yeah, she knew what my uncle
liked.

I was just finishing
with my bar, having capped all of the liquor bottles, when my phone buzzed
again. Allegra’s text was brief:
The
Speak – upstairs
. I went to get Grant and my gun. Both were in Miranda’s
office. Fortunately they weren’t getting it on this time as I burst in through
the door. Miranda’s cheeks were shiny with fresh tears and Grant held her
close.

           
“You okay, cuz?” I asked.

She stepped away and
smiled, wiping her cheeks. She took a deep breath. “I’m good. Is it time?”

           
“Yeah, we’re going to The Speak.”

           
“That seems fitting,” Grant said. It had come full
circle. The Speak is where Natalie first found out Grant and I were in the
mafia after witnessing Grant kill three men. The Speak is also where Mr.
Genovese assaulted her after Marco practically choked her into submission. It
was definitely fitting that Marco was going to die there.

I grabbed my gun from
the safe and secured it in my small of back holster; my leather jacket covered
the bulge. Grant’s gun was already in the holster strapped around his chest,
making him look more like a cop. He zipped up his black leather jacket,
concealing his weapon too. With a final hug for Miranda, he was ready. Grant
followed me to my condo where I left my car with valet, grabbing my suppressor
out of the glove compartment first before climbing into Grant’s Lexus, the
least memorable of our vehicles. A vintage Mustang can attract unwanted
attention when you’re committing a felony.

We parked a block over
and added the cans to our guns before walking to The Speak. The silencer made
my gun longer and the length was uncomfortable against my backside so I used
the loop sewn into my jacket. We approached The Speak, which looked like an
abandoned, condemned building from the outside with boarded up windows and
peeling paint on the trim, but we knew inside was a fully modern and
functioning bar with gambling in the back. I knocked on the door and it opened
a crack. The doorman Sam’s face appeared and I went through the motions of
telling him the password: Muffins, even though he knew who we were. Once
inside, we bypassed the crowded living room that had been converted into a bar
and immediately went up the steep flight of stairs to the second floor, the
noise from the party below following us. The top step creaked, earning us some
attention from Telly, who was standing guard outside one of the doors near the
end of the hall.

           
“What are you guys doing here?” Telly asked.

           
“We’re here to see Marco,” Grant said, pulling his gun
out. Telly was slow to react and still reaching for his gun when Grant shot him
between the eyes. The back of Telly’s head blew out and blood mixed with brain matter
splattered against the eggshell white wall behind him. We didn’t stop as his
body slid to the floor. Stepping over his legs, Grant opened the bedroom door
and I silently entered the room. There was only one piece of furniture and it
was a queen bed. Allegra was lying on her back still wearing black lace
underwear and bra. Marco’s hand was down the front of her panties and one of
her breasts was exposed, the bra cup pulled to the side, revealing a nipple
that glistened in the dim light like it had recently been suckled. Marco was
naked and his white belly was pressed against her side, resembling a large
parasitic grub. He didn’t hear me come in, but Allegra saw me and relief washed
over her features.

Grant stayed out in the
hall to stand guard. I nodded at him before closing the door hard enough to
make a sound.

           
“What the fuck?” Marco flew off the bed, his dick stuck
out at me from underneath his rolls. “What are you doing here, Dom?”

“Allegra,
go. You don’t need to see this. Thanks for your help.”

She nodded, her eyes
wide, quickly grabbing her dress and bag off of the floor with shaky hands,
then bolted out the door.

           
“Did that bitch tell you I was here?” Marco sputtered,
his jowls shaking.

           
“Yeah, and Paulie let me know when you dropped off Aunt Paulina.”
His eyes narrowed with this information.

I pointed my gun at him
and he started laughing. “You think you’re going to kill me?”
 
Uncle Marco took a step backwards, towards the
window where his clothes were on the floor, his gun on top of the pile.