“Correct, and also general imports. The Castellanis have film industry interests—that’s where they make their money—but they also have controlling shares in a chain of groceries and meatpackers around LA. Some of the imports for their grocery stores come in via the Los Angeles port, so I can see why Castellani wouldn’t want to rock the boat with the Bernardis. Could be they’re more involved with each other than Castellani wants to admit.”
I finished the last of my packing and zipped up my bag as Angelo rubbed one side of his face wearily. “It doesn’t sit right with me, any of this. There are things going on behind the scenes, that much is obvious, but I don’t want this to blow up in our faces.” He looked over to me. “Our first priority is Greco. Our second is making friends. But if Castellani’s regularly doing deals with a Family who indulge in such morbid killings, I’m not sure the Morellis should pursue that friendship.”
“Haven’t you done enough for the Morellis by now?” I asked. I tried to keep it light, but Angelo’s knowing expression told me I’d failed.
“Listen, Bax, once Greco is taken care of, and your name is clear—”
“Let’s focus on Greco for now,” I said quickly. “Let’s just get it done.”
He watched me for a long moment. “You know, between the two of us, I’m usually the one who wants to bottle it all up.”
“Point taken. But we don’t have the luxury of time right now for deep psychological exploration. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” he said after a noticeable pause. He went on with a sigh, “I’m getting too old for all this Mob nonsense.”
“You?” I scoffed. “Never.”
His answering smile was tired. “You were right. We do need to concentrate on Greco. Jacopo said if he doesn’t get a new lead tonight, we can try a stakeout of some Bernardi holes around town.”
“A stakeout?” I groaned. “Stakeouts are theworst.”
Now Angelo’s grin turned flirtatious. “The worst? I remember when you were just about buzzing with excitement at the idea of going on a stakeout with me.”
“Oh, I still buzz with excitement around you,” I said as he came close to me, tipping my face up with his fingers on my chin. He ran his thumb over my lower lip. “I’m buzzing right now.”
“So you are,” he purred, letting his eyes wander slowly, deliberately between us, down to my crotch, where my hard-on was visible beneath my track pants. “Was it that cock cage that Julianus Aurelius Castellani was wearing so proudly that had this effect on you?”
“Definitely not. I’m only interested inmycute crim.”
He frowned, irritated, but forgot it soon enough. In fact, we spent a long time that night helping each other forget our troubles, but later, while Angelo slept, I couldn’t help going back to them.
If we found Greco and cleared our names, what then? I returned to law enforcement and Angelo to the Morellis? I wasn’t stupid enough to think the FBI would welcome me back, even if Ididprove my innocence. I’d still be compromised in their view, due to my relationship with Angelo—a relationship that was non-negotiable, as far as I was concerned.
And as for Angelo…he’d told me more than once he was out of the Family, but I’d seen the way he went running when the Morellis needed him. I’d seen the way he enjoyed working to make connections on their behalf, and I’d seen the fire in his eyes here in LA as we worked with Jacopo.
You could take the man out of the Mob, but could you take the Mob out of the man?
Chapter Ten
The next day was quiet, and we spent a not-inconsiderable time in bed together. In the evening, while Angelo was in the shower washing off the day’s activities, I sat down on the too-small couch and decided to check outCute Crimsagain. There were a few sightings of us noted, but most of them were—to my knowledge—in places neither of us had been in our lives. But therewasthat one sighting in LA, which I noted with a frown. It was from a user called “AngeloForever,” stating simply, “Santa Monica Pier, Saturday night”, followed by a heart emoticon.
I checked Angelo’s page on the site, where there were another few comments about how hot he was—“Zaddy,” went one eloquent argument—and then some lewd speculation about his cock size.
I snickered.
Angelo wandered out of the bathroom, naked, and I couldn’t help giving him a look to compare the poetic fever dreams of more than oneCute Crimdreamer with the real thing. He stopped by me to look over my shoulder and gave an irritated tut. “Will you get off that damn site?” A creature of habit, he headed to the kitchen to make a coffee.
“I’m checking leads on the cute crims of LA!” I protested, quickly using the search function to try “Jacopo.” Jack wasn’t listed, not that I thought he would be—and not because he wasn’t attractive. He was actually charming in his own way. But he also seemed the careful type, unlikely to splash his face around on social media. Most of the people listed on the website had extensive catalogs taken from their online photos. I tried “Castellani Family” and another entry caught my eye. I clicked on it, then gave an involuntary whistle. “Wow, that Alessandro Castellani sure is a looker. Could giveyoua run for your money.”
Angelo wasn’t what I’d callvain, but he wasn’t unaware of the effect his beautiful face had on people. He traded on it, using it to his advantage. Good-looking people got certain privileges in life, and Angelo made the most of them. After my whistle, he materialized behind me again and silently gazed down at the mugshot of Alessandro Castellani, taken twelve years prior.
Alessandro had his face lifted up slightly, almost aggressively, and his coffee-dark eyes were what photographers called “making love to the camera.” His full lips were lifting up on one side, twisting into an almost-smirk, an invitation to the viewer. Under his mugshot the comments were mostly “WOW”s, “HOT”s, “TAKE ME DADDY”s—the kind of comments Angelo got as well, though I didn’t point that out. There were also a number of speculations on Alessandro’s sexuality, and one person who claimed to have sucked his dick in a now-defunct gay club in West Hollywood.
“He has a higher average star rating than I do,” I laughed. “Although not quite as high as yours,” I said, glancing up at Angelo. I could have sworn I saw satisfaction passing through his eyes.
“Put that away,” he said. “We have a decision to make.”
“We do?”
