Mobster's Gamble: Chicago Mob Series Book 1 (14 page)

“What the fuck is this about, Caesar?”

“Call off the hit on my life and I let your girl go.”

“You are crazy! I didn’t put the hit out first of all, and second”—Carlo’s voice drops an octave—“if she even has a red mark from where you’ve got your gun. I kill you.” I nod to where the decomposing body of Priest is in a heap of plastic. Caesar takes it literally, and I notice the lessening of the pressure against Anya’s head. “You played your cards wrong,” I spew.

She glances up at our standoff. I am proud of her. Anya is taking this well and holding it together. Caesar is shaken. This doesn’t seem to be going according to his plan. I don’t think that he thought I would call him out on his threats. I might not have if he hadn’t pulled out Priest’s body. Caesar has crossed an invisible line, the one you can’t step back over. Anya doesn’t need to see that shit. She’s gone through enough.

“The Campuonos are the only ones to call it off and you bringing them Priest as a peace offering after you stole him from police custody is a testament to what they think of you. Disloyalty is a bitch!” I spit.

“I admit, I thought it might work. Bringing that crazy fucker to them.”

“When it didn’t, you shot him in the stomach and left him for dead on my doorstep. I put him out of his misery. I did him a fucking favor.” Wrath comes out through my words and it is an effort not to shoot Caesar where he stands. The cleaner has defected, betrayed the Carusos. How much Caesar paid him I have no idea, but Pop is going to have to settle that shit.

In this moment, my back is covered, Alex is here and my other guys should be in position, I’m waiting for the right moment. Anya is my first precedence.

“You have the power, Carlo, and you know it. Call off the hit and I let your girl go.”

I laugh because it is fucking funny. After all the shit he has done, does he really think I would use a
favor
on his sorry ass?

The standoff intensifies and Caesar does something cowardly and unexpected. He slams his gun hand out away from Anya, hitting me across the head. I’m dazed when I hear Alex tell Anya to get down. I watch with ringing ears as Anya ducks. The sound of a shot clangs. I get back my bearings and Tweedy is in my line of sight, lying on the floor. Blood is pouring out of his chest.

“Anya!” I yell, frantically searching for her.

Ricco is flying across the room to a door far away. And when I finally locate Caesar he is bee-lining for a back exit.

“Carlo! Carlo!” Alex is calling me.

“Go!” I order. And he flies out after Caesar. I grab my head, trying to shake off the stun.

Tweedy is dead a few feet from the plastic-wrapped corpse of Priest. I rush to Anya. She is huddled into a tight ball, hiding behind the wooden crate. I go to her.

“Are you hurt?!” I don’t want to sound mean, but it comes out that way. If she is hurt...I will fucking lose it!

I crouch down and feet thunder into the open space.

“Carlo!”

“We’re over here!” I let Julius know where we are, and I wrap my arms around Anya, sitting on the floor with her.

“He’s gone,” he states flatly. “Caesar disappeared.” He is breathing hard. “He had a plan. He is fucking long gone.”

“I don’t give a shit. This was his last card he could play. He is probably headed for the airport.”

My eyes shoot to Tweedy; poor bastard. He was a pawn in this whole thing. Then my eyes fall to Priest. A whole new problem that is way more dire has come out of this; our cleaner can be bought. He fucked the Caruso family. Pop has a shit storm coming his way.

I rock gently with Anya. She is quiet. I let her be.

“Julius, get the others. This has to be taken care of by us. Call the casino and have them send the supplies.” He knows exactly what I am talking about. The place has to be wiped. “And Julius?”

“Yeah.”

“Leave Priest.”

I push Anya away from me to look into her eyes. They are red-rimmed and fearful but not broken. Her life has been a demonstration of her strength. This was scary and I am fucking pissed at myself for letting it happen but she proved herself. Her arms unwrap from her stomach and wind around me. I embrace her, squeezing, thankful she is unharmed.

“I’ve got you,” I tell her.

She’s not crying, she is holding on. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have gone outside, or at least waited for someone.”

“None of this is your fault. Remember what I told you in the cellar at the compound. None of it is your fault.”

*****

Anya insists on working the next day. Jessie is as loud and obnoxious as ever. I think Anya has built up so many coping skills that she can deal with it without a problem. Me, I want to strangle Jessie on a daily basis. But she is part of the family, and I’m stuck with her.

Alex and I go on our rounds, checking the perimeter and doors.

“Your girl is a fighter,” Alex says out of the blue.

“Huh?”

“She didn’t let the whole thing at the warehouse get to her... She is working.”

“Oh. I thought you meant physically.”

“No. I meant you don’t have to raise a finger to be a fighter. It’s just something you have. She takes whatever is coming at her and deals with it.”

“You’re right... I really didn’t look at it that way. I thought she was coping.” I shrug my shoulders, just happy the whole thing is over and behind us.

“No. She is a fighter,” Alex confirms. He yanks on a door that leads out into a loading dock on the opposite side of the casino from Jessie’s kitchen. “I’m happy for you.”

I think about Alex’s words. I am happy too. I never thought there would be anyone to come along that could be a match or be able to handle what I have to deal with. It isn’t always going to be easy for Anya. She has demons to face like I do, but we can face them together. Helping her is my purpose now. Anya will never know how deeply she helped me.

I watch as the scenery changes from tall city buildings crowded together to the green median of highways, to the plush dense shadow of forests. Carlo has my hand wrapped in his. Julius is driving. The ride is either taking much longer than I thought or the anticipation is extending it in my own mind. It’s time.

The iron gates are open. Places like this are open twenty-four hours for visitors. The lawn is pristine amongst the cement slabs. The cloudy day isn’t casting sunbeams that would light up the names. Instead the gray of the day mixes with the gray of the stones. Carlo is holding my hand, leading me as we walk through the grass.

We stop.

Simon Maximillian Hobbs

Beloved friend

1992-2016

“Thank you.”

“Kylie has been here.” His words catch me off guard. “Every member has been here to pay their respects.” Hearing Kylie's name spreads a warmth of friendship through me. I miss her. But this is all for the best. We all need to find our own way now.

“Thank you again. That was thoughtful...for all of us.”

A breeze kicks up, sending my wavy hair into my eyes, and I swipe it away with my free hand. My heart thumps. There is no reason to be scared or nervous but nevertheless it is how I feel. Carlo’s steps continue and are slow. I meet his pace.

I glimpse at the carved cherub and beside it are the words:

Jonah “Priest” Stiles

1987-2016

It is justice in a way. At least Priest was buried in a beautiful place and his father was left in a hole in the cellar buried under the rubble of his once sprawling, thriving compound of the Anointed Heavens.

Carlo gently bumps me with his shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yeah... I pictured this being harder.” I can’t help but stare down at the headstone.

“A huge part of your life is over. It should be hard.” Carlo squeezes my hand in his.

“I think I am more excited about the future than wanting to look to the past.”

He is contemplative for a moment and I watch as he drinks in the cemetery’s solitary beauty. A quiet simplicity mirroring the opposite of the compound I lived in for so long.

“I am.”

“Am what?” I wonder.

“Excited about the future. All I’ve ever had is work and family. With you, it makes all of it more interesting, comforting, and worth it.” He lifts my hand to his lips and places a soft kiss to the back of it. “I want to give you the world.” Carlo’s eyes shine with happiness.

“You already have.”

Look for Book 2, Mobster's Fate, Alex and Meryl's Story.

Dear Reader,

I hope that you enjoyed
Mobster’s Gamble
, book 1 in my newest mobster series, The Chicago Mob Series. The story delves into the underbelly of the mafia and cult factions. The motivations and people may be different but they both use fear to govern members and have a leader smart enough to control them. I wanted these two worlds to battle each other while a romance bloomed. The connections and differences generate a story that is fast paced and sympathetic to both sides.

Please contact me at [email protected] or visit me at
http://www.amyrachiele.com
if you have any questions or would like to chat about this book or any others on my backlist.

If you are inclined to do so, I would love for you to review
Mobster’s Gamble
. Your feedback and input are invaluable to a novelist.

Thank you for spending time in my mafia world.

In gratitude,

Amy Rachiele, M.Ed.

Glossary of Italian Slang

Agit
a
(ah gi ta):
Upset stomach

Andiamo (on-dee-ah-mo):
Let’s go

Bellissima (bel-e-see-ma):
The most beautiful

Bombaleed (bom-ba-lead):
Messed up or poor quality

Capisce? (ga-bish):
Do you get it?

Capo:
Captain of boss’s enforcers

Cappatosta (ca bah dos):
Thick-headed, stubborn

Cavone (gahv-own):
Ignorant Italian

Cazzo (kaatso):
Balls!

Chooch (chooch):
Jackass!

Ciao (chow):
Goodbye

Contract:
Payment in exchange for scheduling an execution

Culo (cool-yo):
Ass

Don:
Head boss, family leader

Enforcer:
Mafia henchman who
enforces
the rules

Faction:
Mob family

Fanabola (fa-na-bowl-a):
Shit!

Fangul (fon-gool):
FUCK!

Favor:
Illegal business that you need help with

Feekanaz (Fee-ca-nazz):
Sneaky or nosy person

Gabroni (ga-bro-nee):
Dumbass

Guinea (gin-nee):
A derogatory term for an Italian

Hit:
To kill

Made Man:
Follows through on contract killing

Malocchio (ma-lo-kya):
Evil eye or curse

Mamaluke (ma-ma-luk):
Something foolish

Mangia (mahn-ja):
  To eat, and eat, and eat more (even if you’re not hungry)

Mannegia (mah-neg-ah):
Damn it!

Marked Man:
Slated for death

Marrone! (mar-own):
Dammit!

Medigan (meh-di-ghan):
A seriously non-Italian person

Moola (moo-laa):
Money

Moosh a moosh (moosh-a-moosh):
Feeling yucky

Mooshadda (moo-sha-da):
Someone who is stupid

Nonna (naw-na):
Grandmother (Watch out!  She’ll smack you just as hard as your mother)

Omerta:
Code of silence

On Ice:
Dead!

Oobatz (oo-bot-z):
Crazy

Paesan (pie-zan):
Friend

Racket:
Illegal business

Salud, Salute (Sa lood):
To your good health, a toast (hopefully you’re not wearing cement shoes when you’re toasted)

Scarol (ska-roll):
Money!

Schifioso (skee-votz):
Yuck! Gross!

Scootch (skooch):
A pain in the ass!

Scumbati (scoom-bah-dee):
Messed up!

Sfatcheem (sfa-cheem):
A pain in the ass!

Stai zitto (sta-te-zeet):
SHUT YOUR MOUTH!

Sticazzi (sti-ca-zee):
I don’t give a fuck!

Stugatz (stu-gots):
Got nothing

Stunad (stew-nad):
You’re just stupid