Born into the Mob, page 9
“Shit. My purse and phone are at the club. I can’t get on my plane without an ID.”
“Luca has them.” He pulled up between the fountain and the front door, behind a black Cadillac, and cut the engine. Without a word, he hopped out of the cab and started walking toward the house.
Some manners!
Nina hurried after him.
The door was wrenched open, and the smell of garlic and Italian seasonings made her stomach grumble, and then Luca stood there, staring at her with a mix of surprise and relief on his face. An older guy with a full beard stepped up behind him, looking only mildly curious, and then a third man, this one gaping at her as if he were looking at a ghost.
“Nina,” Luca said, her name sounding reverent tumbling from his lips, although he wasn’t making any move to touch her. She could really use a hug right about now, too.
“Are you okay? Did they harm you?” It felt like he was cataloging every inch of her, and when his gaze reached her legs, he sucked in a harsh breath and grabbed her foot. “What the hell did they do to you?”
Marco snickered. “She did that to herself.”
Ugh, there went that stupid blush again.
“Care to elaborate?” Luca said so coolly she shivered.
She jerked her foot out of his grasp. “I escaped,” she snapped.
Luca recoiled as if she’d told him she had a highly contagious disease. “You escaped?”
“The hard way,” Marco added.
She flung around to face him. “I was under duress, okay? Why don’t you go put yourself in that situation and let me know how it fares for you, huh?”
“I’ve been in that situation,” he said so calmly, she knew it was true. “And I fared far better.”
“We need to get you cleaned up so these cuts and scrapes don’t get infected.” Luca didn’t move.
“Did she say she escaped?” one of the guys who had been standing behind Luca asked. He was exceptionally tall and bulky and looked like a lumberjack who’d spent far too much time out in the woods alone. Luca didn’t seem to be afraid of him, so Nina assumed he was a friend, but he sure was scary looking.
“This isn’t good,” the third guy said, and then his face split with a wide grin. “Although, holy shit, Nina fucking Sarvilli, in the flesh. And all grown up.”
She was beginning to loathe her own name. Especially with the added fucking in the middle. She wanted to scream, “My middle name isn’t fucking!” Except, hell, her last name wasn’t Sarvilli either. Not anymore.
Instead, she gave the guy a bland look and said, “Do I know you?”
He thrust out his arm. “Frankie Bianchi.”
She automatically shook his hand and was pretty sure her jaw went slack for a few seconds. Then she shook her head.
“Frankie? As in, my father’s right-hand man? The one who kidnapped me?”
“That’s the one.” He stuffed his hands into his pockets and rocked on his heels, the grin never wavering.
Dear Lord, if you get me out of this alive, I swear I’ll never come back to Detroit again. She and Luca were going to have to arrange to meet somewhere else when they resumed their affair, because she didn’t think she’d ever be able to come back to this place again.
“Why is this not good?” Marco asked. “Seems to me we’ve solved your problem.” He waved at Nina while looking at Luca.
Luca scrubbed a hand over his face and wouldn’t meet Nina’s gaze. He hadn’t touched her, wasn’t acting happy to see her, and now he wouldn’t even look at her.
It wasn’t her damn fault she’d gotten kidnapped.
Well, technically, it was. If she hadn’t come to Detroit in the first place…if she hadn’t basically stalked Luca on Friday night…
Except, if she hadn’t been there for Davit to kidnap, what would have happened to Luca? Davit said he’d been trying to get to Luca for years and last night had been a perfect opportunity, with all of his protective customers at a party instead of the club. Nina been away from this lifestyle for nearly twenty years, but she wasn’t stupid. She had enough understanding of how the mob operated to know that Luca would not have fared well at all if they’d confronted him without her there. Hell, her presence may have saved his life.
A fact he was obviously not thinking about given his rigid stance and refusal to comfort her in any way.
“Did you tell them?” Luca barked into the silence that had fallen.
Nina frowned. “Tell who what?”
“Who you are.” He stabbed his finger in her direction, fury carved into his face. “They know.”
She grimaced. “Yes, I know. I have no idea what they plan to do with that information, but it’s a damn good thing I escaped before finding out.”
“Not really,” Luca said. “Because they’ve already made a few calls. They’re trying to sell you, Nina. To the highest bidder. And all the customers are from your father’s old crew.”
She gasped. Her head was suddenly so light, she closed her eyes and reached blindly for the wall. An arm slipped around her waist and she leaned against whoever it was, needing a moment to get her bearings again.
It was Luca; she knew without opening her eyes. She recognized his scent, his arms, the muscles of his chest. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and cling to him, but she didn’t dare, not with the way he was acting and all these witnesses. What if he rejected her?
“I’m going to take her upstairs, get her cleaned up, bandage these scrapes and cuts,” Luca said, and before Nina could protest—if she even planned to—he swept her into his arms and carried her up the stairs.
When she was a kid, her nursery was to the left at the top of the stairs, while her father’s suite was at the end of the hall to the right. She honestly couldn’t recall if she’d ever even been in his bedroom, but she imagined it was as over the top as everything else about this house.
She certainly hadn’t expected it to be warm and inviting and… “So different from the rest of the house.” She was still lightheaded but lucid enough to take in the whitewashed bed frame, the royal-blue painted bedside table, the blue and white quilt, and the anchor hanging on the wall. Someone had put a lot of thought into decorating this room, and she doubted it was her father.
Luca’s response was a grunt, and then he carried her into the en suite bathroom and sat her on the side of the tub. “Here,” he said, handing her a towel and pointing at her ass.
She assumed he wanted her to use it for cushion, which was nice because, yes, her backside was already starting to bruise. Sitting on a plane for four hours was not going to be fun.
But she was ready. More than. With Luca acting so cold and distant and the fact that half of Detroit probably now knew Gino’s heir was back in town, yeah, she couldn’t wait.
To get away from this place.
And maybe, to get away from him.
Chapter Twelve
“Here,” Luca said, handing her a second towel. “Clean up.”
He wanted to help. He wanted to take care of her, to baby her, to assure her he’d never let a single soul hurt her again.
But he couldn’t, because he was fully aware of what they were up against now that word of her presence was spreading throughout Gino’s old crew. And that was on top of the Armenians, who were no doubt pissed as hell that she’d slipped through their fingers. Uncle Frankie had said this could turn nuclear, and it was beginning to look like his prediction was going to come true.
Shit, shit, shit. This was all his fault. He never should have invited her into the house. He never should have shown her to her father’s office. He never should have bonded with her over their shared confusion regarding their heritage. And he sure as hell shouldn’t have accepted her offer when she asked him out Friday night.
Because now, they were all fucked. He needed to get her out of town, undetected, and then he and Uncle Frankie and Samuele needed to diffuse the situation.
However the fuck they were supposed to do that.
If that wasn’t enough, he now knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he and Nina could never see each other again. It was too dangerous.
He stepped away, forcing himself to ignore the hurt in her eyes. He knew it wasn’t from the physical pain she was obviously in; it was because of him.
One more shitty thing to add to an incredibly long list of shitty things he now had to deal with.
But it was better than comforting her, letting her believe he cared. Because it was dangerous to care. He had to put her on that plane and never look back, and the only way he was going to be able to do that was if he convinced her that she hated him. Otherwise, he might very well ask her to stay, which he knew damn well he couldn’t do.
Or ask to go with her. Which was slightly less dangerous but no less insane. What the hell would he do with his life? He had no clue where she lived, whether he’d be able to find a job, what the fuck he would even do to pull in an income. He’d have to completely start over, become untraceable, never speak to his family again.
That little fantasy just wasn’t feasible.
Which meant he was back to square one: Convincing her she hated him so she’d leave this place, leave him, without ever considering coming back.
“I’m going downstairs,” he said, his voice coming out rougher than he intended, not that he took it back. Easier this way. “Come down when you’re cleaned up.”
She looked down at her wrinkled and torn dress. “I don’t have any clothes.”
He bit back his annoyance, not at her, but at the situation in general, and retreated to his bedroom in search of something that would fit her. He dropped a pair of drawstring shorts and a T-shirt on the counter. “That’s the best I can do.”
“Thanks for your help.” Damn, her voice was so cool he actually shivered. And then he turned around and left, hurrying downstairs to where Frankie and Samuele were no doubt brainstorming ways to fix this situation. Or at least diffuse it.
When he stepped into the kitchen, the two older men were sitting at the counter, eating spaghetti, which should have been funny given it was seven in the morning.
“Where’s Marco?” he asked. Maybe he should make himself a plate. Except he had no appetite at the moment.
Frankie used his fork to point at the arched doorway leading to the front of the house. “Said he saw something on your monitor and went to check it out.”
Luca whipped around to stare at the empty doorway. “Shit. Are the Armenians here?”
“Nah. He said he didn’t think whatever it was is an actual threat.”
Probably a raccoon chewing on wires or something. Luca appreciated his cousin taking care of it for him.
“Have you heard anything else from the old crew?” he asked his uncle.
“Nothing new,” Frankie said between bites of spaghetti. “Everybody’s still finding out. Doesn’t sound like the Armenians have let it out that they no longer have the merchandise.”
Luca pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please don’t refer to her as merchandise.”
“What do you want me to call her? The love of your life?”
Luca glanced at the stairs, but Nina hadn’t made an appearance yet. “No. Because she’s not. I’m putting her on that plane this afternoon and walking away. I’ll never see her again.”
Samuele rinsed his empty plate and put it in the dishwasher. “Forget what I said earlier about the garlic. That sauce was excellent. I haven’t had Italian cooking this good in nearly twenty years. Oh, and we’re coming with you to the airport.”
“Just in case,” Frankie added.
“I appreciate it,” Luca said, because he did. He had no idea how much his adversaries—all of them—knew about Nina.
Wait, he did know. “Davit followed me and Nina. He knows where she was staying.”
Samuele plucked his keys out of his pocket. “Tell me which hotel. I’ll make sure the front desk doesn’t say a word. You want to give me her room key and I’ll get all her stuff while I’m at it?”
“Yeah, thanks.” Nina’s purse was sitting on the counter, and Luca pawed through it, searching for the little plastic key card.
“What are you doing in my purse?”
He jerked his hands away like he’d been scalded, and turned to face Nina, who stood at the bottom of the stairs, arms folded, looking like a kid trying to play grownup in his too big, casual clothes.
Samuele plucked the bit of plastic from his hand and waved it as he headed for the front door. “Getting your stuff and covering your tracks. You’re welcome.” And then he was gone.
“What is he talking about?” she asked. Her demeanor was no longer fearful, pained. Since her hair was damp he assumed she’d taken a shower, and it seemed like the water had washed away the woman they’d rescued from Davit and replaced her with a much colder version.
Which was good.
“Remember Davit told us he’d been following us? That means he knows where you were staying, and if he gets your last name from the hotel clerk, he can figure out which flight you’re on.” He paused, letting her come to the obvious conclusion.
She shook her head, giving the impression that she was resigned or maybe not surprised by this information. “By the way, Serendipity is in on it.”
“That bitch,” Frankie roared from behind him.
Luca stared at Nina. His jaw was probably hanging in the vicinity of his knees. “What?”
But it made sense; he’d already concluded that Davit had bugged his club. He’d just assumed it was via electronic means, not via the one person there he trusted most. “Shit. How do you know this?”
And how had he missed it?
“She was there. At the house where they were keeping me. Not against her will, either.” Nina glared at him, like she was daring him to question her words.
“Fuck me. That’s how they knew no one would be at the club last night.”
“And how they got in and out of your office without raising any red flags.”
“I’m going to fucking kill her.”
Nina winced, shied away from him, and he immediately regretted his words. He wasn’t that guy; it was an empty threat, spat out of anger at being so thoroughly duped.
But he didn’t explain, didn’t reassure her that the man she’d been hanging out with for the last two days, the man who had whispered that they should carry on their affair, was who he really was.
Because he had to let her go.
The sound of the front door opening and closing drew his attention. Marco was back from dealing with the raccoon or whatever annoying non-city creature was screwing with his yard again.
“Manners are too important,” he heard from the front of the house.
That wasn’t Marco’s voice. It was a girl’s voice.
Nina’s head whipped up as she stared at the arched doorway from which the voice had drifted.
“They’re stupid. Pointless.” Now that was definitely Marco’s voice. And his attitude. But who the hell was he talking to?
“Hill?” Nina said, suddenly bouncing off the last step and hurrying out of the room.
Luca glanced at his uncle, who was blotting his mouth with a napkin. Was Nina’s adopted sister really here?
He followed Nina out of the room, catching up in time to watch her squeal and then envelop another woman in a breathtaking hug that he was a whole lot jealous of.
The other woman, who he guessed was Hillary, had bright red hair, pale blue eyes, and was maybe two inches taller than Nina.
Without bothering with introductions, he said, “Why are you here?”
Hillary gave him a haughty look. “So bad manners run in the family, huh?”
Luca winced. He wasn’t normally like that. But under their current circumstances… He strode forward, thrust out his hand. “Luca Russo. You must be Hillary Karney. Now, why the hell are you in Detroit?”
Marco snickered. Hillary tossed him a death glare.
“Yeah,” Nina said, “why are you here?”
Hillary waved her phone. “I got worried. You haven’t answered any of my calls, and when I texted you, your responses were too vague, and then you stopped responding altogether. And then last night, he answered your phone and said you were indisposed. After he hung up on me, I tried to convince myself it was code for in ‘the middle of sex.’”
Nina’s eyes widened, and Luca averted his gaze and dragged his hand through his hair.
“But you never called back. I called and texted way too many times for you to not have responded. Plus, you have a terrible track record when it comes to picking up guys.” She gave Luca a cool look. “I got worried.”
“What the hell did you think you were going to do if she really was in danger?” Marco practically growled at the woman.
She didn’t back down, which Luca found impressive because Marco scared most people shitless.
“Call the police,” Hillary responded primly.
“Wrong answer.”
“How is calling the police the wrong answer if someone is in trouble?”
“You aren’t in Kansas anymore, Dorothy. That’s now how things work around here.”
“At least, not with the people we’re dealing with,” Luca said far more gently, stepping in front of Marco in case the guy lunged at Hillary or something. He’d never seen anyone get under his cousin’s skin quite like this woman was, and honestly, she wasn’t even doing or saying anything particularly inflammatory.
“For the record, Marco, her dad’s a cop,” he said, hoping that would chill out his cousin.
“That certainly explains her Pollyanna attitude,” Marco snapped.
Hillary deliberately turned her back to Marco and said to Nina, “Please tell me the two of them have nothing in common other than sharing genes on one side of their family.”
“I don’t know,” Nina said. “I only just met Marco.”
“Hell, you only just met Luca,” Marco said.
Luca shoved at his shoulder. “Shut the fuck up.”
Marco glared at him. Luca ignored him and turned to his uncle, who had stepped into the foyer. “We have an additional problem.”
“I see that,” Frankie said. “You the cop’s kid?”
