Ties That Bind (24 page)

“Father Lorenzo, this is James Vinetti.”

His eyes darkened. “I knew your father.”

“I-”

But Mitch was already interrupting. “Good thing you believe in all that forgiveness and no sins of the father thing then, isn’t it? Because all of us know his father was an ass.”

It took a moment, long enough for all eyes around the tables to turn their direction, but eventually Father Lorenzo enveloped Jimmie into a warm hug. “Welcome to my table, James.”

When he left, Jimmie turned dark eyes to Mitch.

“Don’t look at me like that. It wasn’t some voodoo family respect thing. Cash is the only currency he deals in.”

“Seriously?”

“Every seat at this table was bought. Who you are merely determines how much it costs you.” Mitch grimaced. “You were fucking expensive, just so you know.”

“Then I guess I should get off my ass and make us some deals, hm?”

Mitch clinked glasses with him before sinking into one of the smaller tables in the back of the hall. “You do that. I’m going to sit here and drink until I can stand to be around these people.”

“I’m-” Jimmie stuttered. “I’m going to leave that one alone. For now.”

It was hours before Mitch finally felt numb enough to mingle with the others. Jimmie had made friends fast and was swirling deals with just about everyone present. Mitch admired the way he worked the room. Despite his misgivings, despite the shadow of his father, Jimmie had made the table his own in a single evening. His presence was almost ethereal, power drawing men toward him and his innate charisma keeping them at his side.

Mitch was sitting with a crew from Queens, listening to them share battle stories, when his phone vibrated an emergency message. By the time he read it and looked up, Jimmie was already heading his way.

“Ashli?”

“No, she’s fine. You are observant tonight.”

“I’ve not drank as much as you. What is it?”

Mitch made his goodbyes then stepped in line beside Jimmie as they headed for the door. “Masseria’s brother finally raised his head.”

“I’ll handle it. Where?”

“Jimmie-”

“I need to know my sister is safe, Mitch. Who would you trust that with?”

No one, Mitch thought. Absolutely no one. “I’ll drive.”

Two hours later, the two pulled the car onto a darkened street. Only one street light remained working, all the others having been shot out long before their arrival. Litter decorated every inch of the area, wind kicking it up in tiny tornadoes of trash.

“A Hoboken whorehouse?” Jimmie stared at the derelict building through the tinted windows. “He is some kind of classy.”

“You ever met him?”

“Once or twice in passing. Do we know anyone here?”

“I can assure you that I know no one here,” Mitch said and then offered him a dark smile. “But I make friends fast.”

“Where’s Teddy?”

“I had him take Ashli up the estate. No reason to have her in the city in case something goes wrong.”

They sat in silence, their practiced eyes surveying the entire neighborhood. Waiting and planning but neither bothering to discuss it. After a half hour, Jimmie disappeared around the corner to get coffee. Sinking back in the car, he offered a cup to Mitch. “He show up?”

“Yeah, he’s in there. One of the guys just texted me that he’s still drinking at the bar, though.”

“There’s a bar in there?”

“Well, sofa and a dusty fifth of Jim Beam.”

Jimmie rolled his eyes. “Want to tell me what happened between you and Toni that caused the sudden flight change?”

Mitch grimaced and shook his head rather than reply.

“Did you sleep with her?”

“Really?  Did you pay no attention at all during that argument?” Mitch groused. “Can’t believe you asked me that.”

“Stop being so damn touchy. If you are putting me at war with Terenari, I have a right to know.”

“This isn't your war.”

“You are beside me. That makes it mine.”

“I don't need your help,” he said, bristling. “Let’s go. He’s found a room.”

Mitch stepped out, straightening his suit and tossing the Gennaro carnation into the gutter.

“You misunderstand, Mitchell,” Jimmie shook his head, resting his arms on the hood of the car to face him. “You have stood beside me through things that would have sent any other man in a dead run the opposite direction. A fight against you is a fight against me.”

“You owe me nothing, Jimmie.”

“I'm not so noble a creature as to repay debts with my own life, Mitch. We,” he dropped his hand heavily across Mitch's shoulder as he joined him in the paces toward the building, “will keep each other alive.”

CHAPTER FORTY

They went in together, talking only briefly with the man they had inside. Mitch gave him a stack of bills, orders to clear out the rooms as much as possible and to pay off the owner. By the time the two headed up the stairs, no one was asking any questions. They opened the door, not surprised to find him naked with a girl already bent over the bed. They stood in silence, waiting to be noticed, and it was the girl who finally yelped at their looming presence in the room. She shuffled away, extricating herself from him and crawling into a corner of the bed. Before Masseria could move, Mitch had him in a vice grip and pinned against the wall.

Jimmie stepped toward the girl with slow, deliberate movements. Grabbing a robe she had cast aside, he offered her his hand and then helped wrap it around her. His eyes moved up and down her tiny frame, a slow frown spreading across his face. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

Jimmie glanced over his shoulder at Mitch who gave a single shake of his head. Jimmie rubbed her arms, softening his tone. “You’re scared, hm?  No reason to be. If we wanted to hurt you, we already would have, okay?”

She nodded, her eyes flittering from one to the other.

“How old are you?”

“Fifteen.”

“Whoa.” Jimmie’s hands jerked away from her and he took a step back.

A pace behind him, Mitch chuckled. “Trade?”

Jimmie didn’t hesitate, moving away from the girl and slamming his elbow into Masseria. “She’s a child, you little shit.”

Mitch stepped to the girl, his hand moving to the small of her back as he guided her to the door. “Runaway?”

She shook her head.

“Parents?”

“Dead.” She straightened. “I’m doing what-”

“You have to do to survive,” he finished. “We get it. No judgment here. Do you want to work here?”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Course not. I’m not an idiot.”

Mitch pulled out a stack of bills. “You do drugs?”

“No.” She hesitated, eyeing the bills in his hand with uncertainty. “But I can find some if you-”

“I don’t.” He tucked the money into her palm, topped it with one of Ashli’s business cards and then closed her fingers around it. “Call that number. Tell her I said to give you safe haven. Take a cab wherever she tells you.”

“But my job-”

“She’ll find you a legitimate one.”

“I’m...I mean, than-”

“Don’t thank me. Get out of here and don’t look back.” He pushed her out the door then took a slow pivot to face Masseria. “You are one sick pup.”

“I didn’t know!  I swear!”

“Yeah, that’s believable.”

Mitch sank down in a chair, eying him. He was bleeding from Jimmie’s punch, blood trickling down his naked body. Alex’s name was tattooed in script across his heart and another tattoo hovered just under his collar bone.

“What is that?” he asked, drawing Jimmie’s attention to the symbol.

“Sailor’s cross, I think.” Jimmie shrugged.

Masseria opened his mouth to speak but Jimmie hit him again, causing blood to drip from his mouth. “He wasn’t asking you.”

“Do you know who he is?” Mitch asked.

Jimmie had to nudge him to get him to respond. “Yes.”

“Then you know why I’m here,” Jimmie’s voice was calm, icy.

“I only sat with them!  For chrissakes, Alex asked me to guard them and I did. They just shopped!”

Both men straightened, realization dawning simultaneously.

“You were in California?” Jimmie shoved his gun into his kidneys, eliciting a scream. “You are the one who held my sister fucking hostage?”

“Well, that’s an interesting development,” Mitch managed, shaking his head.

“You’re chances of survival were slim before. Now?  Now they are non-existent,” Jimmie spat.

“I know you.”

“No, no, Mr. Kerlin. You have me mistaken.”

“Well, you clearly known him,” Jimmie interjected, shoving him away. “Get your fuckin’ pants on.”

While he struggled to pull them on, Mitch searched his memory. It was the tattoo that tugged at him. A sailor’s cross wasn’t a Sicilian thing - more often a mark of the Greeks or Hispanics. He raised his eyes, frowning at his failing, when it finally clicked.

Mitch silently thanked Mike for the recent threat of sending him to Guantanamo. Were it not for that, he never would’ve put the memory together.

“Penny Lane.”

All movement stopped. Even Jimmie seemed taken back by Masseria’s reaction and he took a step away. It took a good dozen heartbeats for Masseria to recover and develop a response.

“Not me.”

“I didn’t ask a question. I know it was you. What I want to know is if it was sanctioned by someone.”

Jimmie glanced from one to the other, waiting for an explanation.

“Penny Lane was a temporary detention camp in Guantanamo Bay. Pretty upscale place designed to convince insurgents to turn spy on Al-Qaeda.”

“And you know about this how?”

“AP reported on it,” Mitch clipped. “CIA would give them anything they wanted to try and bring them to the American side. Expensive gifts, cars, drugs and women.” He glared at Masseria. “And you were caught smuggling in girls, innocent little girls, to do their bidding.”

Jimmie blanched. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“You couldn’t have done it alone. What family sanctioned it?  Funded you?”

“No one. I just lucked into it.  I swear, I’m telling you the truth!”

Mitch could see the question burning in Jimmie’s eyes but he knew he would never ask it. That his company might have fronted something so horrific was causing Jimmie’s hand to quake. “Was your brother involved in that?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Alex?” Jimmie managed. “Bullshit.”

“No, promise. He ran the whole thing. You know I ain’t smart enough to do something that big.”

“That I don’t disagree with,” Jimmie growled.

Jimmie didn’t want to believe it - that his money had been siphoned off for something like that. But, after Alex’s betrayal he was ready to accept it. But not Mitch. He lowered his voice to a hiss.  “And Jimmie?”

“Sure, sure. We paid him all the money. Just like we was supposed to.”

Mitch knew he was lying but he raised his eyes to Jimmie anyway. Fury radiated off him, his calm demeanor cracking. When Jimmie opened his mouth to defend himself, Mitch pulled out his gun and shot a single round into the man’s thigh.

Screams erupted, echoing through the halls, but Mitch’s voice was a low threat next to the man’s ear. “Mind your fuckin’ manners. We’re not that stupid.”

Jimmie had reached his limit and Mitch could feel it coursing through him from across the tiny room. “He’s not going to tell us.”

Mitch nodded, his eyes never leaving Masseria’s squirming figure. When he finally spoke, his voice was full of resignation. “It’s okay. I already know the answer.”

“You aren't going to sulk if I kill him, right?”

“Him?” Mitch breathed. “Not on a chance.”

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Mitch and Jimmie’s laughter carried through the estate hallways and Ashli rushed to meet them.

“Everything okay?” Jimmie asked, kissing the top of her head in greeting.

She nodded, taking his hand and wiping some of the dried blood off his knuckles. “You?”

“Starving but fine.” Jimmie smiled. “Guys are bringing food in.”

“I got a call-”

Jimmie shuddered which elicited a soft laugh from Mitch. “Mitch can explain that. Fifteen geez. I’m grabbing a shower. Meet you in ten.”

When he was gone, she stepped toward Mitch. “And you?”

“Please don’t ruin my mood with an interrogation.”

Ashli hesitated then stretched to give him a kiss on the cheek. “I took care of her for you.”

His hand snaked around her waist, pulling her into him. She gasped at the suddenness of it, then settled the curves of her body against his. With his free hand, he tilted her head, his lips drifting across her neck. “Thank you.”