Mobster's Gamble: Chicago Mob Series Book 1 (9 page)

My feet, throbbing from the long walk, are making me question whether or not I made the right decision. The comfort of the casino and everyone there being so nice to me, and now crouching in the bushes looking through the window my empty life seems even more tipped upside down. I’m not used to getting anything from anyone, especially for free. I don’t want to be a burden. At the Anointed Heavens I know my place and have some sort of a purpose even if it is twisted, unhealthy, and controlled. The pink fabric of the sweatsuit Carlo bought me rubs against my skin, reminding me that I left something behind. The two locations feud inside me. The whole time I was at the casino I worried what was going on here, and now that I’m here I feel like I left something back there. I shake my head, confused. I’m alone and always have been. It is a place I existed but never lived. Abandoned by my father, my mother’s death, and the monotonous, warped teachings of the Anointed Heavens leave an emptiness that stings inside me.

I could just walk away. No one knows I’m out here, and I made it perfectly clear to the people at the casino, the doctor, Julius, that I didn’t want help and I would be just fine. Desolate tendrils of confusion wallow up in my bruised stomach. Whatever the doctor gave me is starting to wear off.  Pain beats behind my eye, and my fingers reach up touching the tender skin, a brutal reminder of the past few days. The doctor told me that another beating could cripple or kill me. But yet here I am kneeling at the height of the windowsill watching from the outside in.

A shadowed body walks by the window, their gait unfamiliar. I tip myself closer to see who it is and they must have caught me in their periphery moving behind the shears and glass. I duck down, hiding. I wait forever and I decide to give the inside another glance when a warm large hand wraps around my mouth.

“Shhhhh. Don’t scream.”

I strain to move my head. My eyes are wide, fighting against the swollen flesh around them.

It’s him.

Carlo.

My stopped breath releases and I relax a bit.

“I don’t know why you came back here.” He speaks in fast whispers. “Before you go back in there”—he jabs his free hand at the building—“we are having a talk.”

His strong hand wraps around my waist, hauling me with him. I wince at the aching around my ribs.
What does he want to talk about?
Panic fills me, fear bubbles up. He is agile as he carries me with him backing away from the compound. His predatory stance is animalistic trudging through shrubbery and bushes. He takes me a different way than I sneaked up, crossing over the neighbor’s yard. The people that live there avoid us like we have some type of disease.

“Can you walk?” he whispers again, his breath fanning my ear. Immobile, I pause before I nod. Carlo’s sturdy hold releases me.

He bends to gaze at me. “Are you going to run from me?” It never even occurred to me to do so. He slips his fingers to intertwine with mine, sending a pleasant shiver up my beaten arm. Carlo leads me away from the Anointed Heavens.

He picks up the pace and I have no choice but to jog to keep up. A fancy sleek black car is parked along the curb down the block. I see that it is our destination. When we reach it, without hurting me he swings me forward and leans me up against it.

“Why?”

I really don’t have an answer for him other than feeling like a burden or a misfit. He leans in closer to me, trapping me beneath him; the glass and steel of the car against my back. He is so close we are sharing the same oxygen.

“You haven’t answered my question.” He looks deeply into my eyes and his face changes sharply from questioning to mad. I crush myself against the car tighter, trying to find my own space. He must realize it because he pushes off from where his hands are resting on the car. Maybe it’s not anger but annoyance. He’s very hard to read. After half a beat, he storms around the car to the passenger side, opening the door. “Come on.” I hesitate.

“I thought you wanted to talk,” I remind him.

“That was the plan.” He taps his fingers on the steel door frame that he holds open. “But you’re not talking. Get in the car,” he orders.

My swollen eyes narrow at him. Who does he think he is? He doesn’t own me or control me. He stomps back around the car to where I’m standing, frozen.

“You can either walk to the passenger door or I’ll carry you.” Now I want to run from him, but a voice from deep down within myself stops me. We face off, my puffy bruised eyes staring into his dark chocolate ones. I notice him flex his fingers by his side, thinking he’s ready to pounce on me. I push down panic and look up at the blue sky which signifies freedom. I lock gazes with him again and force my feet to move. At the passenger door, I lower myself and slip my legs inside. Carlo closes the door for me. The click of the latch is a turning point.  New leather scent coats the interior of the car. I inhale; it’s unfamiliar but symbolizes a whole new world.

Carlo gets in the driver’s side, presses a button, and the car roars to life. I dig my fingernails into the black seat.

“I don’t want to be a whore,” blurts out of my mouth.

Slowly, Carlo twists to stare at me. “Nobody said you were going to be one.” He presses the gas pedal and we zoom further and further away from the Anointed Heavens.

*****

I can’t rest anymore. Three forced days in bed, and I just have to walk around. I called Julius. Carlo showed me to my room, gave me instructions, but I haven’t seen him since. Doc Howie has been a constant.

“What’s up, Anya?” Julius says immediately when he answers his phone.

“Can you come get me?” One thing that Carlo made perfectly clear the last time I saw him was that I needed an escort anywhere I wanted to go. I’m not a prisoner or kidnapped but they have a protocol here that I have to follow. And I totally understand. I would need one anyway because of the enormous size of the building and all its intricate hallways, rooms, and areas.

After a few minutes, there is a knock at my door. I look through the peephole and Julius is there. I swing open the door.

“Where do you want to go?”

I leave his line of vision and grab my tray that was brought to me with my breakfast. “To the kitchen.”

“Are you sure? Jessie is down there.”

“I know,” I return cheerfully.

Julius gives me a once-over. “Your eyes look way better today. They are really healing up.”

“Yes. I feel so much stronger.”

“You really like that sweatsuit. Didn’t someone bring you other clothes?”

I nod. “These are really soft. I like it.” I don’t divulge that the other reason I like to keep washing and wearing it is because it was a gift from Carlo.

“I get it. I like sweats too.” He reaches to take the tray from me.

“I can carry it,” I protest.

He glances at me:
Don’t even argue
. I have learned over the past few days not to. It is a totally dissimilar avoidance than what was happening at the Anointed Heavens. I avoided confrontation with Priest to keep the peace or avoid punishment. Here, it is different. Everyone is genuinely nice with no strings attached. I sense that the people here care about my well-being.

Kylie cared. I left her. I’m in this beautiful apartment being catered to and she is stuck suffering whatever wrath Priest is in the mood to dish out. Guilt overcomes me. When I was standing against the car with Carlo I thought I was swapping one prison for another; it is not the case. A sense of home resonates throughout the entire building.

“Hey, Anya, you okay?” Julius leans down to my level, checking on me while I’m zoning out.

“Of course.” I smile and his face brightens.

“Great, let’s go.”

The kitchen is the most amazing part of the casino, and I love coming down here.

“What the hell, Rita? What kind of sautéed chicken is that? It looks like you took it out of the dumpster and threw it on a plate!” Yikes, Jessie is in rare form.

Rita’s lips tighten. She stamps on a silver cylinder, the lid pops up, and she lets all of the food slide into the trash. The dish she tosses into the sink, and starts over.

Julius raises his hands. “Don’t look at me.” A bell goes off and Jessie goes to one of the huge ovens with mitts on her hands.  She reaches in and takes out a huge prime rib roast.  It looks amazing.

“Can anybody in this place make a simple salad? A fucking rabbit could do a better job!” Jessie’s bellows ring out in the expanse of the kitchen. The scrambling feet on the tile squeak. She spots Julius. “Where the hell is my extra line cook?”

“I’m not in charge of hiring,” Julius states, emptying my tray quickly, putting dishes in the sink and silverware in a special dishwasher. He wants out of here.

“Anya.” He motions with his head for us to leave. I stay rooted to my spot overlooking the steaming pots and fresh ingredients sprawled around. I get an idea.

I step forward, walking to the sink. I wash my hands thoroughly. Everyone but Julius ignores me when I scoop up a pair of clean gloves. I pick up a knife that was abandoned by the vegetables for garden salads. I move it aside. I pick up a head of iceberg and begin tearing at it carefully. I shred it into a large bowl. I see some arugula and do the same. Julius comes up behind me.

“What are you doing?” he whispers.

“Helping,” I reply, not looking up. I keep my eyes on my task. He tugs lightly on my shoulder.

“Jessie is going to freak.” He’s arguing with me in hushed tones when I sense a presence behind the two of us. I glance up. Jessie puts a hand to Julius’s chest, shoving him back. She leans over me, watching.

“Where did you learn to prepare a salad that way?” she asks, her voice calm.

“I cooked every night… where I used to live.” I don’t say the Anointed Heavens. “I find the blade of the knife makes the edges too clean on the delicate leaves and the contact with the metal makes it get orangey on the ends really fast. The salad has a shorter shelf life with a knife.” Jessie nods her head in appreciation.

“See!” she yells out to everyone. “Laziness affects the presentation. How many times do I have to say it?” She walks away, never telling me to stop or get out of her kitchen, although she yells, “Julius! Get out!”

He gives me a sympathetic glance. I smile, letting him know that I’ll be fine. He puts his hand to his head, telling me to call him if I need to. I nod again and get to work on creating beautiful salads for the lunch crowd. I spend the next two hours not feeling controlled but useful.

“Pop, why do I have to be here?” I pace over to the front windows, taking a look down at the street. Everything is normal.

“What do you mean? You fucking brought her here,” he counters.

“You don’t need me to meet her.” I stride over to the other windows, peering down; nothing unusual is going on. I run my fingers through my hair then shove my hands in my pockets.

“What the fuck is wrong with you? You ain’t acting right.”

“I’ve got shit to do.” I use it as an excuse. Anya is a distraction. I have avoided her for three days. Julius has been her babysitter. I’ve been wrestling with my feelings. Keeping a distance between us makes me edgy but it keeps me from being afraid. I never thought I would fear a five foot four, brown-haired, green-eyed woman.

I pace again and my father slams his fist down on the table. “Stop it!” He doesn’t understand she makes me lose control. Control is something I value about myself. I want to grab her by the arms and thrust her under me like I’m some wild caveman. What I would like to do to her sends me over the point of no return. I thought having her under my roof and keeping her safe would be enough. With each passing day, my resolve begins to fail. And that is why I don’t want to be here.

“Come in!” my father calls out when a knock sounds on his door. I scrub my hands down my face. This has got to be her. She walks in and she looks different. Her pretty face is almost back to normal and her wavy brown hair is tied at the nape of her neck. Stunning is the perfect word to describe her.

Pop shoots a look my way. He stands to greet her.

“I am sorry I have not had a chance to welcome you. I am Ennio. Come sit down.”

Cautiously, Anya walks into my father’s space. It’s surreal. Not many people have ever been inside his walls.

“Julius tells me that you are working with Jessie. You are a brave woman. I don’t even like to go to the kitchen.” Pop laughs and the sides of his eyes crinkle with lines showing his age. Julius hovers in the doorway.

“I think she is great. I am learning a lot from her.” Anya is more talkative; her oppressed demeanor seems to have softened.

“Do you enjoy cooking?” Pop asks.

“Yes. I always have.”

“It is a noble profession,” Pop adds, rubbing his belly. He is being a
stunad
but she actually laughs.

“Jessie has been complaining that she needs more competent help. She’s had wonderful things to say about you. Would you be interested in a more permanent position?”

“Are you offering me a job?” Anya’s face lights up.

“I am.”

“Definitely.” She sounds so sure of herself. It is astounding what her smile can do to me.

“I need to run it by the doctor but I think he will say you are ready.”

“Thank you so much!” Anya gushes, very pleased.

“Don’t you want to know how much the pay is?” Pop questions.

“Pay? You have already done so much for me. I don’t expect anything more. Having a purpose is more than enough.”

My thoughts screech to a halt. “Having a purpose” is a weird way to describe a job.

“Everyone that works here gets paid,” Pop informs her. He points toward me.

“Carlo handles that. He will sit down and discuss it all with you. Benefits, time off, et cetera.”

Anya’s face is puzzled. “Thank you,” she says again.

Pop waves a hand in the air. “No need to thank me. Not having to listen to Jessie is thanks enough. Carlo, take her to your office. Get everything in order.”

“We can do it later.” I address Anya and Pop. “Jessie probably wants her back downstairs.”

Pop gives me a suspicious once-over but doesn’t argue.

“You can take her,” he orders me. I shove it off on Julius.

“Julius is headed that way. He can bring her.”

Pop’s jaw clenches; he doesn’t like to be contradicted.

“Julius.”

Anya stands at Pop’s call for Julius. “Bye.”

“See you later,” Pop says.

I struggle with not following her out like a puppy. I keep my feet rooted. The door closes but not before she glances at me over her shoulder, a quick flash of longing passing over her eyes. I turn away.

“I like her,” Pop announces when we are alone.

“Yeah,” I mutter, turning my attention back to the windows.

Pop’s chair scrapes on the slate floor. He stands behind me.

“I think it is her,” Pop is cryptic.

“Her who?” I wonder.

“The one.”

I face him. “The one, what?”

“I didn’t think I raised such a stupid kid.” His sigh is thick.

I return to staring out of the window.

“She is fucked up, Pop. Didn’t you hear her? ‘Having a purpose.’ She wouldn’t even let us help her. I had to practically drag her back here. She was ready to run right back into the arms of that fucking psycho, Priest.”

“Aren’t we all?”

“All what?” I raise my voice, annoyed with this whole conversation.

“Fucked up.” He repeats my words. “You said it yourself that living in this casino and the way you and Clarissa were raised inside these walls was not normal. Her life hasn’t been normal either.”

“You never abused us, Pop.”

“No, but I have made you do some shit that would fuck up a person in the head. You have risen above it. You know your place. She can rise above it too.”

“I don’t know. Some of the stuff I’ve had to do has been for survival.”

“She came back here with you. That has to mean something.”

“I practically forced her into the car,” I admit, ashamed.

“She would have run again if she didn’t want to be here,” Pop confirms.

“One more beating like the ones she got and Doc Howie said it could kill her.”

Pop closes his eyes and nods. “I know. He told me.”

“So what do I do?”

“Let things be. She’ll work, find
the purpose
she is talking about. And maybe one day she will even feel at home here. I will always be thankful to her.”

“Why?”
What is he talking about?

“Because she is the one who finally came along and stole my son’s heart.”