“Have you done a background check?” he wonders.
“Yes!” I declare, pointing to the door.
“It’s just that—” he starts again, as if I’m off-base like some third grader who just decided to steal his first pack of cigarettes.
“I know,” I assure him. “She’s got an Italian name. That doesn’t necessarily mean anything. Odds are, she’s just a gold-digger.”
“I’d feel better if—” Marcello starts again, pissing me off.
“Find out who Andretti is poaching!” I demand.
“Yes, boss,” Marcello says, backing off.
He leaves me alone with my thoughts, and suddenly, I feel exhausted. I sit back in my chair, my thoughts drifting to the past. I’m getting too old for this. If I were any kind of regular Joe, I might be thinking about retirement. But there’s only one real way out of the family business, and that’s in a body bag.
At least I’m not doing the wet work by myself anymore. I paid my dues and came up through the ranks. I keep my fingers in enough pies to make sure everyone knows that I’m paying attention. But I don’t muscle men on the streets anymore. Those days are past.
I remember the last time I got my hands dirty. It was on Alessia’s deathbed. She closed her eyes for the last time, and the damned heart rate monitor flatlined.
It was the worst sound I’d ever heard, so definitive. My wife, my love, the mother of my only child, was dead. My rage had me grabbing the doctor by the collar of his sterile coat and slamminghim into the wall. My bodyguards stood outside, making sure no one could get in while I went to town on the man’s face.
When the haze finally passed, Giovanni led me to a chair. I spent the rest of the night sobbing my eyes out, unwilling to let anyone touch my wife.
Later on, we paid the doctor for his trouble. I didn’t keep tabs on him, but I think he moved to a different city and had some facial reconstructive surgery. Poor bastard. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.
I’m not like that anymore, although I cultivate the appearance of a man who could fly off the handle at any moment. At the top of my game, I’m no fool. I know managing people is a combination of positive and negative motivations. I’ve got to offer bonuses, but I’ve also got to make it clear that crossing me is something no one wants to do. In La Cosa Nostra, the negative motivations are severe.
I glance out the window, wondering about this tutor of Frankie’s. Could she be a plant, sent here to frame me for murder? Or worse, to steal some of my men? I highly doubt it, but anything’s possible. I’m going to have to check her out for myself to get a feel for her. I’m a good judge of character if I can get into a room with someone.
The girl has an Italian name, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. She could be one of the few Italian Americans without a cousin or an uncle in the business. Still, odds are she knows someone who knows someone. That means it would be worth my while to find out who she knows.
I wouldn’t put it past Frankie to bring a spy into my house by accident. After all, he met this girl on the street. What ifthe meeting wasn’t quite as serendipitous as it seemed? What if she maneuvered her way into the coffee shop or wherever on purpose just to run into my son?
I’m starting to get paranoid now, and I don’t like it. In my opinion, everybody’s looking for something. It’s easy to assume that this girl is just looking for a meal ticket, but just as easy to think she’s working on someone else’s dime.
Marcello is right. I need to figure out who she is before I let this thing go any further. With any luck, she’s just a highly paid tutor who’s pretty to look at but not much else. But if Marcello’s suspicions are correct, she could be the beginning of the end for my family.
CHAPTER 5
MARLENA
Istick it out for two hours until my brain feels like it’s on fire. Frankie has no focus whatsoever. He keeps bringing up random subjects as if we’re two kids hanging out instead of a tutor and a student working on an assignment. I play his game and then gently bring him around to the case at hand. But by the time we complete the assignment, I’m ready for a large glass of wine.
“So, same time tomorrow?” Frankie asks as I stand up.
“Sure,” I agree. I have a fleeting wish that I could earn my four thousand dollars some other way, but it looks like I’m stuck. Frankie needs a lot of help, and that’s what he’s paying me for. “But next time, you really need to focus,” I say.
“You got it, teach,” Frankie replies with his signature smile.
I have to admit that I like him. He’s goofy, and all the wealth surrounding him clearly hasn’t gone to his head. I’m still nervous about being in this place, and I can’t wait to get back into my car. The sooner I can get past those iron gates, thebetter. I feel like a fugitive or a spy. My job is to get in and out of the family complex without being seen.
I shake my head, laughing quietly at myself.
“What’s so funny?” Frankie asks, showing me to the door.
“Nothing,” I reply. “It’s just this house is overwhelming.”
“You haven’t met my dad,” he quips.
