Fearless: Mob Boss Book Two (Volume 2) (14 page)

33

Nico sat in the park, watching a bunch of kids run around on the playground. It wasn’t as quiet as a church, but it was surprisingly relaxing.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been around children. It must have been a birthday party or wedding back before he met Angel. After London, he hadn’t been as engaged with his, and he realized for the first time that he’d left himself—and them—vulnerable with his absence.

His father would be disappointed. He’d taught Nico how to lead, had prided himself on making his men feel like family in the truest sense of the word. Nico hadn’t taken up the mantle lightly, and his father’s leadership had been the benchmark by which Nico measured his own success.

Had his father struggled to balance his love for Nico and his mother with loyalty to the family? Had he ever gotten distracted? Made a mistake because of that love? Nico would give anything for one more conversation with him, one more moment with his mother. For the first time, he was unsure what do to, his judgement clouded by his warring feelings of love for Angel and loyalty to the family.

A small battle ensued on the playground, and he watched as a little boy tried to take a sand bucket from a girl with blonde pigtails. She held on tight to the plastic handle, refusing to give it up even as her eyes filled with tears. It made him think of Angel, and he found himself smiling, wondering what their children would be like, if they would have her spirit, her green eyes, her beautiful soul.

But that was ridiculous. She didn’t belong in his world, and he didn’t belong anywhere else. David was in danger because she’d tried to help him. Nico wouldn’t say goodbye until she and her brother were safe again. But he would say goodbye. It’s how it had to be.

A man about his age was jogging up the path next to the park. He stopped in front of the bench and bent over, resting his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. Finally, still panting, he gestured to the bench.

“Mind if I sit?”

“Feel free,” Nico said, keeping his eyes on the playground.

The man sat at the other end of the bench, looking out over the park as his breath slowly returned to normal. They sat in silence for a full minute before the man Nico knew as Agent Braden Kane spoke.

“You understand that I can’t help you if you don’t help me,” Kane said.

Nico didn’t look at him. “I’m not offering full cooperation. I need a little help. I’m willing to give you a similar measure of help. Tit for tat, so to speak.”

“Might not be enough,” Agent Kane said.

“It will have to be,” Nico said.

Kane sighed. “Your friend Santoro is off the grid.”

“That’s why I’m talking to you,” Nico said.

“You have cyber experts. Hell, you took some of them from us.”

“True, but it will take us longer to find what we need on our own, and I don’t have that kind of time.”

“What do you need?” Kane asked.

“Anything that will lead us to Santoro. He’s not using his own credit cards or bank accounts, but he’s funding his operation somehow. Anything leading back to him would help, or even the location of known associates out here.”

Kane got up, started stretching near the bench. Nico wondered if the FBI agent was really trying to squeeze in a workout or if it was all part of the act. It’s not how Nico usually did business. He conducted meetings on his terms, in a suit. But this wasn’t something he ever thought he’d do, and he still wasn’t sure how far he was willing to take it. Kane had contacted him years ago, right after his father’s death. They’d always been friendly, but Nico had made it clear that he had nothing to say. Calling him now was grounds for execution, and the meeting had been carefully set up so that no one but Nico would be implicated if Raneiro found out.

“What about Lando?” Kane asked.

There was no way Nico would confess to hacking John’s computer. It was a federal offense, and he had no promise of immunity.

“He’s not exactly a font of information,” he said drily.

“I might be able to put out a few feelers,” Kane said. “What are you offering in return?”

Nico combed the playground for the little girl. She was gone. He hoped she’d been able to keep her sand pail.

“William Molten lives in the Bronx,” he said to Kane. “Had a pretty big kiddy porn ring going last year. He was trying to keep it a secret, run it through the family, but as you know, that’s not something we allow.”

“Is he still alive?” Kane asked.

“Yes,” Nico said, “but only because I let him off with a warning. We’ve been keeping an eye on him, and I’m sorry to say, Bill hasn’t entirely rehabilitated.”

Kane nodded. “I’ll look into it.”

“And the other thing?” Nico asked.

“I’ll look into that, too.” He turned, preparing to pick up his run.

“Make it quick, Kane,” Nico said softly. “I’m running out of time.”

34

Angel sat next to Nico on the beach, their feet side by side in the sand. The moon hung wide and full over the water, scattering the sea with diamonds. Elia and Marco were wrestling at the break line. Farther out, Sara and Luca swam side by side. Angel was almost positive something was going on between them, but she wasn’t sure she knew Sara well enough to ask about it.

She rested her head on her bent knees and looked at Nico. He was gazing out over the water, but his forehead was creased with worry, his eyes shaded with something she couldn’t name. He’d been tense since coming home with the pizza, although it was possible she’d been too wrapped up in her own suffering to notice it before that. They were all tense—stressed out and exhausted from hours spent staring at security tapes or printouts or computer screens, all of them wracking their brains for a clue about Dante’s whereabouts. She was glad to hear playful shouting from the water, glad the others were able to let off some steam. It would do them good.

“You okay?” she asked Nico.

He turned his eyes on her, and she felt the potent combination of love and lust that was a hallmark of her feelings for him.

“I’m fine.” His voice was steady, his eyes clear. He took her hand, squeezed. “Don’t worry about me.”

“I do, though,” she said.

“Don’t,” he repeated firmly. “I’m here to take care of you.”

She knew how much it meant to him to be able to protect her, had seen the fury and frustration on his face when she’d told him about Dante’s latest phone call.

She smiled a little. “It can go both ways, you know.”

He took a drink of his beer. “Not for me.”

She was about to argue the point when his phone rang from inside his jacket pocket. He scowled at the screen and walked a few feet away.

“Neiro. How are you?”

Angel sat up straighter. Raneiro Donati was calling Nico?

She didn’t know a lot about Nico’s relationship with the leader of the Syndicate, but she’d put enough of the pieces together to know that Nico respected him, cared for him like a father. A wall had dropped over Nico’s face when she’d told him what Dante had said on the phone about “negotiating” for the New York territory out of respect for Raneiro, but not before she’d seen the look of confusion on his face.

“Yes,” Nico said into the phone. “I’m working on it.”

A pause filled only with the sound of waves rushing the beach, the soft murmur of conversation between Luca and Sara in the water.

“Of course. I’ll meet you.” Another pause. “I know. See you then.”

He turned toward the house, his broad back to her, and she knew he was trying to gather his thoughts. She returned her gaze to the water. She could wait.

A couple minutes later, he dropped next to her in the sand.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“Raneiro wants to meet,” he said. “Tomorrow.”

She looked at him. “He’s here?”

“In the flesh.”

“What do you think he wants?” Angel asked.

“I think he wants to tell me to get my shit together.”

She reached for his hand. “Could he help us?”

“He could,” Nico said. “But he won’t.”

“Why?”

He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Because this is my punishment.”

She shook her head. “Punishment? For what?”

He looked at her. “For going rogue when I took you last year.”

“But… that was different.” She couldn’t believe she was saying it, but it was true. “My father…” She took a deep breath. “My father murdered your parents. You said that was against the Syndicate’s code of honor.”

“And it was,” Nico said. “But by taking you, I only perpetuated the breaking of that code. I rewrote the rules, and now I have to play by them. That’s what Raneiro wants me to know.”

Angel looked away. “That’s crazy.”

He touched her cheek, made her look at him. “It’s not, Angel. This is how it works. Every decision has a consequence. This is mine. I’m just sorry you have to suffer twice for my mistakes.”

Their faces were close, his breath a whisper against her mouth. She touched her lips to his and slid her hand down his thigh, resting it against the rigid press of his erection. She wasn’t surprised that he was hard. She only had to be near him and she was wet; ready for his cock, his fingers, his mouth.

She reached inside his pants, took the smooth length of him in her hand. She heard his breath catch in his throat.

“Let’s go inside,” she said.

He would take care of her, just like he said. But she could take care of him, too, even if it was only by making him forget for a little while.

35

Angel was working at the dining room table, the patio doors open to let in the sea breeze, when Nico bent to kiss her head.

“Morning,” he said, heading for the coffee pot. “How long have you been up?”

“Couple of hours,” Angel murmured, turning her attention from the stack of paper in front of her to the open laptop. Something was nagging at her in John’s data, but she was still trying to figure it out.

“Where’s everyone else?” he asked, returning to the table.

“Sara’s working in her bedroom, Luca’s making calls to the east coast, and the guys are shaking down some people they know out here for information.”

He sat next to her and raised an eyebrow. “Shaking down, huh?”

She shrugged. “Their words.”

“You should have woken me,” he said. “We have a lot to do.”

“Well, in the words of a very wise person I once knew, ‘you’re not good to anyone dead on your feet.’”

“Sounds like an asshole,” Nico said.

She glanced up at him, forcing her eyes away from the words that were starting to blur in front of her eyes. He was shirtless, his defined abs pointing to a trail of dark hair that disappeared into sweats hanging low on his waist. He was a little rumpled, his dark hair messy, eyes hooded the way they were when he wanted to take her to bed.

“I kind of like him actually.”

He reached for her hand. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

She turned her attention back to the work in front of her.

“Find something?” Nico asked, taking a drink of his coffee.

“I’m not sure,” she said. “I’m still figuring it out.”

She didn’t want to distract Nico from all the other angles he was working. There was a lot of data, and even though her brain told her she was missing something, she didn’t entirely trust herself. She was too desperate. She wanted to find David too badly, and she was running mostly on coffee and take out. She wasn’t exactly firing on all cylinders.

“Can I help?”

“Not yet. I’ll let you know.”

“Sounds good.” He stood. “I’m going to shower.”

“What time are we meeting Raneiro?” she asked.

He sighed. “Angel…”

She got up from her chair, wrapped her arms around his neck. She felt him soften against her and thrilled at the knowledge that she had the power to move so hard a man. That she was the one chink in his significant armor. But it scared her, too. She wanted him alive, and she’d learned the hard way that love was the greatest weakness of all.

“Let’s not do this,” she said softly. “My brother’s life is at stake. And I think we both know that Raneiro is aware you and I are here together.”

“That doesn’t mean I want you exposed to him,” he said.

“What difference does it make? I’m part of the Rossi family. Technically, the Boston organization is mine.”

“That’s temporary,” Nico said. “Raneiro won’t let Frank run things forever. He’ll have the Syndicate appoint someone else soon enough.”

“I understand, and I have no problem with that. But right now, I’m in it, and I’d rather know what I’m dealing with.” He hesitated, and she took advantage of the moment to continue making her argument. “Besides, do you really think he doesn’t know what I look like? How to find me? He probably knows more about me than I know about myself. Meeting him is just a formality, but it will make me feel better.”

It took him awhile to answer. “I’ll allow it.”

“You’ll allow it?”

He nodded. “That’s right.”

“You do know you’re not the boss of me, right?” she asked him.

“I am right now.” His voice had turned to cold steel. “If you don’t like it, you can go back to New York and wait. Otherwise, you’ll do as I say, like you agreed when we left Miami.”

She wanted to argue on principle, but he was right; she’d agreed to his terms. And he had said she could go anyway. Why was she preparing to dig in her heels?

“I’ll stay,” she said, attempting to make her voice conciliatory instead of petulant. “And I’ll do as you say. For now.”

36

They arrived at the aquarium ten minutes early. Nico bought the tickets, and they entered into a large brick and concrete plaza. At its center, a large whale sculpture jumped toward the cloudless sky. Locke’s mysterious coastal eddy had disappeared. Angel hoped it was a good omen.

They passed through a red metal gate and headed for a two-story building faced with stucco and fronted with glass. Continuing through a cavernous entry with full scale shark models hanging overhead, they followed the signs pointing to the Hall of Fishes and entered a warren of narrow hallways lined with water-filled tanks.

“Where are we meeting him?” Angel asked quietly.

“He’ll find us,” Nico said.

They continued through the labyrinthine exhibit, stopping to look at sea anemones, coral reefs, even kelp. It was quiet, the soft hum of the aquarium’s filters the only sound emanating from the strangely muffled environment. It was like being in a submarine, the tanks portals to a watery world beyond the beige carpet and pale blue walls.

They had rounded yet another corner, Angel more disoriented than ever, when she saw the man staring at a tank full of electric eels. His dark hair was combed back from his face, and even in profile Angel could see that he had exquisite bone structure, with pronounced cheekbones and an aquiline nose that made her think of the sculptures she’d seen of Greek and Roman gods. He had the trim figure of someone in his twenties. His suit was well cut, obviously expensive.

Nico led the way, stopping when they reached the man and turning to look into the tank without speaking. Was there some kind of protocol to their meeting? Some reason they weren’t supposed to greet Raneiro Donati? Angel didn’t know, so she stood next to Nico in silence and followed his lead.

After a long moment, Raneiro spoke. “You brought the girl.”

“My name is Angelica Rossi,” she said. “But you probably know that.”

She felt Nico tighten beside her.

“Of course.”

He turned to face them, giving her a little bow. She didn’t know what she expected. A thug in a leather jacket? A gun-toting Guido with more brawn than brains? Whatever it was, it hadn’t been this; an obviously refined man with the manners of a king and the eyes of a cold-blooded killer.

He took her hand, brushed his lips against the back of it. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. And now I see why you have caused so much trouble.”

She didn’t know whether to thank him or tell him to go fuck himself.

“This isn’t her fault,” Nico said.

The words were apologetic, but there was nothing remorseful in Nico’s tone of voice. It had taken on the low, dangerous tone he used when he was issuing a warning. The baring of teeth before the bite.

“She is here,” Raneiro said simply.

“Because Santoro has her brother,” Nico said.

“Dante Santoro has her brother because of the changes you implemented after your father’s death. Change I cautioned you against, if I remember correctly. And I always do.”

“I’m right here,” Angel snapped. “You can address me directly.” She looked at Nico. “Both of you.”

A faint smile touched Raneiro’s lips. “Let’s walk, shall we?”

It wasn’t a request, and they fell into step beside him, winding their way through the exhibit as he continued speaking.

“I came to your aid last year, Nico, because I love you like a son. You know that don’t you?”

“I do,” Nico said.

“I’m sure you also remember my parting words; a caution that once the business with Carlo was finished, so too would be my involvement.”

“Yes.”

“Of course,” Raneiro said, clasping his hands behind his back as they walked, “I assumed there would be no discord after the confrontation in London. I pulled strings to keep it quiet, you went back to New York, and Miss Rossi returned to her old life in…” he glanced over at her, “New Paltz is it?”

A trickle of ice water ran down her spine. She had been right; Raneiro had known where she was all along. And David, too, probably.

“That’s right,” she said. No point being coy about something he already knew.

He nodded, returned his gaze to the path in front of them. “And yet, here we are.”

“Santoro could have left it alone,” Nico said. “He didn’t.”

They emerged from the dimly lit hall onto an expansive patio. A nearby sign read TIDE POOL PLAZA. A metal railing separated the top of the terrace where they stood from a mini-lagoon enclosed by stone. A crowd of children bent over the pool of water, asking questions of a uniformed tour guide. Beyond them, the Pacific stretched blue-gray to the horizon.

“Dante isn’t working alone,” Raneiro said. “But I think you know that.”

“I do,” Nico said.

“Then you also know that Dante isn’t alone in his view that your vision for the family doesn’t honor its tradition.”

“I’m not interested in what Dante Santoro thinks.”

Nico’s voice was weighted with lead, and Angel was suddenly afraid. This was not the exchange of mentor and student, loving father and son. The conversation was loaded with meaning, heavy with an unspoken threat Angel couldn’t begin to understand.

“That’s all well and good,” Raneiro said. “But are you interested in what I think?”

“Of course, Neiro.” Nico sighed. “Of course.”

Raneiro leaned on the railing, every line of his body whispering elegance as he stared out to sea. “If this were simply one man standing in disagreement, Nico, I would call it defiance. Instead it’s begun to look like a revolution.”

“More like a devolution,” Nico said.

“And you were the impetus of that devolution,” Raneiro said sharply, straightening to look at them.

“That title belongs to Carlo,” Nico said.

Raneiro’s eyes skidded to Angel.

“I know what my father was,” she said.

He nodded. “We will need to talk about the Boston family soon, although I realize now is not the best time.” He returned his gaze to Nico. “I cannot stop this. It has the will of too many behind it.”

“I understand,” Nico said.

“But neither will I aid Dante Santoro at this time.”

“Thank you,” Nico said.

“However,” Raneiro added, “my patience is not limitless, Nico. Even for you.”

Nico nodded.

“I suggest you squash this rebellion, and soon, or I’m afraid it will not end well for you.” He looked at Angel before retuning his eyes to Nico. “Or for this beautiful creature next to you.”