Running: Caruso Mafia Book One, page 2
“Very good. You have always done well Luca.”
“Thank you Don.”
“Your loyalty has been tested many times. I hear you were even approached by the Russians.” Santo tenses at the Don’s statement. No one in our family likes the Russians. They are loose cannons. They took over Boston a few years ago. Not that we Italians had much territory there to begin with. Our focus is Chicago, New York, Las Vegas, Detroit, and San Francisco. The five families have each claimed a city. Chicago is Caruso territory. The heads of those families make up the Council. They make the laws that we mafia men live by.
I hadn’t told the Don I was approached. It wasn’t a secret but as I am approached at least once a month by rivals, I no longer feel the need to report each attempt. My allegiance is to the Caruso family. I handle those spontaneous meetings the same as I always have. With a bullet between the eyes of the messenger and his head on the doorstep of the family who provoked me.
“Yes sir. Mishkin thought he could buy my loyalty.”
“How much?” Asks Santo. His arms have dropped to his side. I can see the interest in his eyes. Does he believe I can be bought? That there may be even a drop of disloyalty in me?
My blood boils at the thought. My fingers itch to grab my gun and shoot him. I am as loyal as they come. I would give my life to this family. “Does it matter? There is no price I am willing to accept from any other family for my loyalty.”
The Don claps his hands as he stands. His eyes stay trained on me as he rounds his desk. “That’s why I chose you Luca.” Chose me? “I have never doubted your loyalty. I can see the fire in your eyes. If I asked you to shoot your father. Right here. Right now. You would do it.” It’s not a question.
Without flinching or hesitating I retrieve my gun from its holster, flick off the safety, and aim it at my father. “Head or chest?”
“Which would you choose?” He questions. His eyes are alight with excitement. He loves pain. He lives for it. While other Dons keep their hands clean once they take the throne, Don Bosco did not.
I pray this is a test. I don’t really want to shoot my father. He may have been stern and unrelenting in his punishments, but he was otherwise good to me and my family. Showed me love but taught me to fight and defend the family. “Depends on what he did. Does he deserve to suffer? If so I can do a shot to the abdomen or knee to start.”
The Don laughs. A hearty laugh that shakes his belly. I’m not sure I’ve ever heard the noise. I’m fairly certain my father hasn’t either judging by the look he is giving him.
“Put the gun away son.” Don says as his chuckle fades away. “I knew you were ruthless but damn. You really would have shot your father without a second thought. Ricco remind me not to piss off your son when he takes over.”
Takes over? Takes over what?
I look to my father. His face gives nothing away accept he looks proud.
“What am I taking over?”
“No worries son. It won’t be for a few more years. We’ve got time to train you before the wedding.” He goes back to sitting behind his desk.
“Wedding?” Shit. Don’t tell me it’s what I think it is. “Who’s wedding?”
Don smiles proudly at me. Then gives a nod to my dad who stands and moves to stand next to me. “Yours son.”
Fuck, that’s what I thought they were going to say.
“What I am about to tell you stays in this room.” I nod to the Don. “Ravinia and I have been trying for another child since Milan was born. I need an heir. No number of treatments have helped. The latest round of IVF has failed. Again.”
Manners tells me to offer my condolences, though emotion is rarely seen within these walls. It is no secret that the Don needs a son. The Council requires the Don to have a direct blood connection to the family or a new family will take control. It has only happened three times among the families in America and each time it brought chaos and war. Leaving all cities weakened to our enemies. Before I can speak the Don continues.
“With no male heir, the position will go to my daughter’s husband as long as the Council approves. I’m sure you can understand the predicament that puts us in.” I nod. She will need a strong husband. One with good standing within the family. Someone close to the inner circle. “I have arranged a marriage for Milan. In ten years’ time, she will marry my chosen successor.”
The Don smiles as he puts his hand on my shoulder and gives a squeeze. Shit.
“You my boy. You will marry Milan and become the next Don.”
Fuck.
“Sir?” I can’t tell him no. I’ve never given thought to being Don. I knew my place would be Underboss and I have worked hard to prepare for the position. Regardless, I won’t turn it down. I can’t. It would be the biggest insult to him and Milan to do so.
He releases my shoulder and walks to the window. “You are the closest thing I have to a son. I trust you. I trust you to lead this family and I trust you will treat Milan with respect.”
“Of course sir.”
“Then it’s settled. The Council has already agreed. The contracts just need your signature.”
Santo places three stacks of paper on the desk. A copy for the Council, one for the Don, and one for me. I pick up the pen. My hand hesitating briefly. A moment of regret washes over me. I had not thought much of marrying. When I did, I assumed it would be with a woman I had chosen for myself. One I loved or lusted over and would be a good mother to my children like my mother was to me. If Milan remains her mother’s shadow I have no doubt I will neither love nor lust for her, and our children will be getting a team of nannies to raise them so as to minimize her influence over their upbringing. I will not allow my children to turn out like her. I need strong not spoiled heirs.
I am sure to keep my thoughts to myself. The Don need not know my true thoughts on his wife and daughter, though I suspect from whispered conversations between him and my father, that his views are the same as mine.
Another stab of remorse hits me as I sign the first copy. I am devout to all oaths I take. Marriage is to be for life. Forsaking all others. If I am to take the oath of marriage as seriously as I do all things in life, then once I am married the only woman in my bed will be Milan. My balls seem to shrivel at the thought. I make a promise to myself to avoid her until she turns eighteen. It’s already weird enough to know that I am thirteen years her senior and held my future wife the day she was born. I shudder at the memory.
Nope. If I am to ever perform my duties as a husband, I cannot interact with her while she is still a child. We will not wed until she is eighteen and we do not require to date or have a long engagement as this is an arranged marriage.
As for my needs in the meantime. As long as I keep things respectful to the Don and not be seen with a woman on my arm in public or sire any children until that time, I am free to sow my oats.
I scrawl my name on the remained two contracts.
“Welcome to the family son.” Don pulls me into a quick hug before releasing me. “Let’s get started on your training.”
Ten years.
Ten years before I am a married man. To a girl that not an hour ago ran away from me crying.
Great.
CHAPTER TWO
Present Day - Elena
THE SMELL OF bleach and antiseptic burns my nose. I hate the smell of hospitals. I also hate crowds. I’m here for mom. It’s my mantra. I have to keep repeating it. Everything we have ever done has led us here. I can’t afford to screw anything up. We are sitting ducks unless I play my cards right.
My mother, Violet Bianco, or Charlotte Smith as she is currently known as, is sick. Kidney failure. She needs dialysis and a new kidney. Which means we have to stay put. We never stay in one place for long. Not when events that took place before I was born have haunted my mother and me my entire life.
A hit-man.
A goddamn hit-man is hunting us. He isn’t the first. He won’t be the last unless my plan goes according to plan. My mother hasn’t told me much. She thinks she’s protecting me. I wish she would trust me to protect her back. I’ve been doing it anyway. For years I have taken lessons from an acquaintance of hers, Ronan. He’s ex-military. Won’t say which branch. Says it’s classified. He lives off the grid. My mom met him her first year on the run. He was in between missions when he found her in labor in her car on the side of a deserted road. Being the stand-up guy that he is, he helped delivery me, then protected us for the first two years of my life.
I long wondered if he had fallen in love with my mother. Both deny it. He claims he’s not capable of love. That, I could believe. I’m not sure I believe in it either. Too much bad shit has happened. Too many so called “friends” have turned their back on us for me to trust anyone. Ronan is the closest I have come, aside from my mother.
My mother on the other hand still believes in love. Still clings to it. My father was her high school sweetheart. She loved him with all her heart. Still does. She ran from him to protect us and him. His life was threatened. She knew the threat was real. It broke her to leave him. I’m not sure she has healed from it, even after all these years. It doesn’t help that she is constantly reminded of it. Each time we run, each threat she receives is a reminder of what she once had. What she protects. She says he doesn’t even know I exist.
I often wonder what would happen if he did. Would he care? Would he embrace his role as father? Does he remember my mother? Does he know of her sacrifice for him?
Shortly after my second birthday the first hit-man found us. Ronan took care of him. After that my mother knew we needed to leave. We wouldn’t be safe staying in one place for long. Ronan agreed. He set us up with new identities, a car, and money.
We have kept in contact with him over the years. Since I was ten, I have spent a month with him each summer and two weeks in the winter training. My mother protested at first. Until the ninth hit-man came. He came in the dark. Disabled the alarm system on our apartment and crept into her room. I am a light sleeper. Ronan trained my body to listen for danger even when sleeping. It was gruesome training. Two weeks in the wilderness every year alone with Ronan “hunting” me. Keeping me on my toes even in the dead of night. Never knowing when I would wake up with a spider in my blanket, or a snake wrapped around my ankles. I hate them both. I know they are ridiculous fears, but they genuinely freak me out. I have seen brains splattered on concrete and a man’s intestines lying outside his body without so much as blinking. Put a spider in front of me and I lose my shit.
In addition to Ronan’s training. I frequent the gym to stay in peak physical condition, and take various martial arts and self-defense classes. My body is my best weapon. My mind is second. Though my friend Luna likes to think otherwise.
Luna is a hacker. The world’s best. There isn’t a system she can’t get into. She’s been my mentor for the last three years. We came across each other on the dark web. I was searching for information on my father. She kept blocking me. I attacked back but got nowhere. Just before I was going to slam my laptop shut and give up. Her face appeared on my screen. She had hacked my computer and camera.
I remember instantly freezing. Not having any idea what to do. My first thought was that she was one of the hit-men or at least working for them. Even after she assured me she wasn’t I didn’t trust her. I trust her now. Or at least as much as I allow myself to trust anyone. She has spent years teaching me about computers and how to gain access to camera and security systems that otherwise would have taken me decades to learn on my own. Not to toot my own horn, but I have gotten pretty damn good.
It turned out that Luna was also looking for someone. The man who killed her father. He was a NYC cop. Killed in the line of duty. He was a good man, a good cop. Not a bad word could be said about him. The same can’t be said for his partner. Luna says he murdered her father because he learned what illegal crap he was up to and tried to get him to stop. After that, he went dark. He quit the force and went underground. Luna has been hunting him ever since. He has connections in the underworld that are protecting him.
She says she’s close. She knows just where he is. I get the feeling she is taunting him. Keeping him scared and running just to mess with him. Luna doesn’t deal in blood. Not like I have to. I don’t want to. It comes with the territory. In my life its kill or be killed. I never kill an innocent. Only those that hunt me, and eventually those on my list. The list of people who threaten my mother and me, but also my father and his family. I hold no love for him. I could leave his threats off my list if I wanted to. I don’t. Vengeance keeps my blood pumping. It fuels my adrenalin and keeps me vigilant.
I enter my mom’s room. She’s sleeping. I take my usual spot in the chair I’ve pulled close to her bed. My back to the wall. Tablet on my lap. Feet up on the bed next to hers. She’s been sleeping a lot lately. I can only imagine the pain she must be in. When she’s awake she tells me she is fine. It’s a lie. The weight of our running and the danger of staying in one place weighs on her every day we stay here. I want to take her and run. Run as far away as I can. If only I was a match. I would have given her my Kidney in a heartbeat.
She’s on the waiting list for one. I hate it. The best odds she has of getting a match is a family member. When she ran she left them behind. They think she died twenty years ago.
It’s why we are here. In Chicago. My mother’s hometown. It’s why I’m on edge. My father is here. In this city. As is the man who put the hit out on my mother.
Us being here is twofold. One, to get my mother a Kidney and her strength back. The second, vengeance.
I’m waiting for Luna’s signal. She’s helping me with my plan. I’m going after the man who threatened my family. By nightfall the hit should be called off and my mother free to contact her family. We will finally be able to stop running. We can settle down. Buy a house. Put down roots. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to do it. I’ve never known that kind of stability. For my mother though, I’ll try anything.
My cell phone dings from my pocket. Before I can look I know it’s a text message.
Cold feet? It’s Luna.
Warm as can be. I type back.
Good. ETA twenty minutes. Move your pretty butt.
I laugh. It feels good to laugh. Maybe when this is all over I will laugh more.
CHAPTER THREE
Luca
THE WALK WITH the Don to his office is quiet. The eeriness of it sets me on edge. It’s rare the house is this quiet. There are always dozens of people milling about. From soldiers, capos, maids, to gardeners. You name it and they are here. The house isn’t so much a house as it is a mansion. It’s the headquarters for the Caruso Family.
It’s one of those old money houses. Been in the family for generations. Ever since the family came to rule the city in 1904. The house isn’t my style. I prefer modern architecture. Clean lines and minimal clutter. The walls here are lined with paintings, sculptures, and various works of art. They are worth hundreds of millions. As far as I know the Don isn’t an art enthusiast. He pays no mind to the artwork once it’s in his possession.
I long thought he bought it for someone in the family. Now I think collecting art has become a habit for the Don. Something he can do that makes him feel powerful by shelling out millions for a canvas while being unrelated to the darker side of business.
The Don doesn’t say anything as we meander down the hall. We rarely need to communicate on our walks. After working side by side the last seven years we have developed a bond. Don Caruso, my father and me. Our roles as Don, Underboss, and Heir have been blurred, but it works for us. Piece by piece the Don has been handing over more responsibilities to me and my father has begun to train my chosen second, my childhood friend Massimo. We’ve had each other’s backs since we were in diapers.
The council approved his position this past Sunday at their monthly gathering. It needed to be approved, as the position should have gone to Val. He didn’t want it. His skill set aligns with another position I want filled, and quickly. Consigliere. Santo is near age to retire and his verbal brawls with Bosco are grating on everyone’s nerves.
When I take over, Val will become my adviser which will work well with his computer and sleuthing skills. The Council meeting was a reminder I didn’t need. Three years. I’ve got three years before my wedding. Shortly after that, I will also be sworn in as Don. Bosco will stay on as a secondary adviser, as will my father.
I am looking forward to being Don. I am not looking forward to being tied to Milan. Over the years my fears have come true. She is exactly like her mother. A spoiled pain in the ass. She’s fifteen years old, dresses like she’s going to the club, wears heels that would make a stripper trip, and make-up so heavy that I’m surprised her cheek muscles can move.
I feel sorry for her. Her mother has manipulated her into thinking that short tight dresses, heels and makeup are what a man wants. Not me. Absolutely not me. I like natural beauty. I like a woman who is comfortable in her own skin. I suppose it doesn’t matter what she looks like. We’re not marrying for love. I only need to have sex with her to have an heir. The rest of the time we can have separate bedrooms. Maybe even separate wings like the Don has with Ravinia.
That woman is going to drive the Don to a stroke someday soon. To keep her out of his hair he has given her a credit card with a near endless limit. Massimo and I have agreed that she has taken it as a challenge to max it out.
The closer we get to the office the more a sense of dread washes over me. I stop and look around the hallway. Squinting to see into the shadows. I see nothing out of place. My instincts are on high alert. I know better than to ignore the feeling. There’s something I’m not seeing.
