Saved by the Mafia

Impossible

“That’s enough.”

I frowned down at Ashley from her place under my desk. She was trying unsuccessfully to blow me, and I just couldn’t get it up. I didn’t know what was wrong with me— I’d never had any problems before, and I was beyond pent up and frustrated.

But of course I knew. A beautiful pair of golden irises danced behind my eyelids.

Ashley’s blue eyes stared up at me. “What’s wrong, Slater? Maybe I could—“

“No,” I snapped. “Get out.”

I pushed her away and zipped up my pants, standing up to go over to my beverage cart and pour myself a glass of whiskey. Ashley sniffled and tucked tail out of the room as I took a sip and lit a smoke.

I made my way back to my desk, propping my feet up on it and slouching down in the chair. How the f**k did this girl f**k me up this bad? I’d met her twice, for f**k’s sake. There was nothing wrong with Ashley— she was usually a good f**k and didn’t expect anything else out of me. Maybe the problem was that I didn’t give a rats ass about her.

It had been almost two weeks since I’d seen Evelyn Adair in the s**t-hole breakfast cafe near her house, and I’d thought about her everyday since. I’d forced myself to stay away from her house, only going to that side of town twice when business demanded it. I was trying to ignore her out of existence, and the harder I ignored, the more I thought about her.

It was seriously f****d.

A knock on my office door caught my attention. When I didn’t speak, Peter opened the door.

“Your father is on the phone for you before our meeting. He’s on hold.” Peter announced.

A scowl instantly crossed my face, and I nodded and waved Peter away. Looking at the blinking light on my office phone, I downed my whiskey and dragged on my cigarette.

Finally, I couldn’t avoid it anymore. I pushed my hair back and picked it up.

“Yeah?” I greeted coldly.

“Slater,” my father growled, his Italian accent strong. “You have not picked up your cell—“

“I’ve been busy. What do you want?” I retorted.

“I want to know how things are going in the city, il figlio. How are things with the casino?”

“Business is fine. Booming as usual.”

“Do not lie to me, boy!” My father snarled. “I have heard you lost a shipment of jewels and Rinaldi is possibly to blame. Have you found out any information?”

My hand gripped the phone so tight I thought I might break the motherfucker in half. “Do you think I’m incompetent, Pops? I have Rinaldi’s mansion under 24/7 surveillance. He’s got a tail on him everywhere he goes when he leaves his house. His boy too.”

“That is not good enough,” he growled back. “I want his teeth mailed to me.”

“You want me to start war with a powerful family before I even know if they’re the culprit? That’s bad strategy.” I got up to pour myself another glass of whiskey. It seemed like I was going to need it.

“I want you to pull your balls out of your pocket and find out who robbed us, Slater, before I make a trip to America myself.”

The last thing I needed was my father on the doorstep. “I’m handling it.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Remember what I taught you, il figlio.”

“‘Make them fear you.’” I quoted my father. “I will not do this family an injustice.”

“Good,” he paused. “Answer your f*****g cell when I call you, boy.”

“Yes, father.”

“You are a Lucci,” he hissed. “We take, we show no mercy. I want whoever is responsible’s head on my f*****g wall.”

“And should I send it USPS?” I snapped. “Stay in Italy, pops. I’ll have an update for you in forty-eight hours.” I hung up the phone angrily.

I stared at it. I was too much like my father. Cold, uncaring, merciless. I was an exact copy of what he’d raised me to be— a murderer. And I liked doing it. Maybe that was why we went at it so much— I saw too much of myself in his cold, dead eyes.

I glanced at myself in the mirror hanging on the wall across from my desk. It was bad enough that I had Lucci written into my every feature. Dark blue eyes, jet black hair, lightly tanned skin. I was good-looking, and I knew that. I was an exact copy of Donovan Lucci himself when he was my age, minus the stubble of a beard from not shaving the past several days. My dad was tall— but I was just a few inches taller than him now at six foot three. I had my father’s same sensitive, Italian pout with strong and masculine features. I had the same lean, muscular build as him. To women, it wooed them. To me.. it just marked me. I couldn’t deny my name any more than I could deny who my father was.

I saw nothing of my mother in my face. Not anymore. When I was younger, I used to see the compassion she had in her green eyes buried in my blue ones. Not anymore. My father had made sure to beat it out of me.

I picked up my office phone and dialed Peter’s number. He picked up on the first ring.

“How’d that go?” He asked immediately.

I sighed. “You know how it went, Peter. He wants Rinaldi’s f*****g head.”

“Yeah, figures,” Peter mumbled. “Anyway, I got a tip on Maddox. Seems like he used his credit card on the southside this morning at a hotel.”

Anticipation boiled inside me. “You know which hotel?”

“I was told Motel 9. There’s only two in the area. Called both. He’s at the one on 5th Avenue.”

Maddox wasn’t at the top of my list. Rinaldi definitely was. But Maddox has been a member of our family casino for decades— he knew my family well. He’d racked up a considerable debt borrowing money to gamble, and he also knew the consequences of what it meant to skip town and try to f**k me and my family out of money. It wasn’t much in the grand scheme of things— about a hundred grand. But what reputation would it give me at the casino if I let him go unscathed? It wouldn’t set an example.

Besides, Maddox was a sleezeball. I’d been waiting for a reason to put a bullet in his skull for years. His gambling problem had cost him his wife and kids five years ago— nobody would miss him.

“Load up the cars,” I told Peter. “We’ve got some fishing to do.”

“You want a whole crew, boss?”

“No,” I grunted. “Won’t need it for Maddox. Just grab Rex and tell Tim and Deadleg to follow behind.”

“A show of force without being excessive,” Peter acknowledged. “10-4. You want me to push your meeting?”

Fuck. I’d forgot about my meeting with O’Conner. “Push it to tomorrow. Noon.”

O’Conner was a man I didn’t need in my pocket, but one I wanted. He ran a local shipyard. I could expand my imports if I could get him on board. When I’d asked him for a meeting, he’d been too afraid to tell Peter no. I assumed my rescheduling would be a relief to him. But I meant the man no harm.. for now, anyway. It wasn’t unknown in the city who my family was. The name was fairly infamous. The great Lucci empire. We made the news often— mostly for the casino, but our reputation as “gangsters” was a mix of hushed fear and rumors.

As Peter left, I got up and walked over to the large safe against the right wall of my office. I quickly entered the code and grabbed my shoulder holster out, pulling it on and grabbing a 9mm to put inside of it. I clicked the magazine into place and racked it, tucking it away in my holster and pulling my coat on.

At least I’d have a nice, bloody distraction from the blonde-haired Angel that had a seat in my head.