Twisted Loyalties (The Camorra Chronicles Book 1)

The window of the Greyhound bus felt sticky hot, or perhaps it was my face. The infant in the row behind me had stopped wailing ten minutes ago – after almost two hours. I peeled back my cheek from the glass, feeling sluggish and tired. After hours, squeezed into the stuffy seat, I couldn’t wait to get out. Las Vegas’ posh suburbs rolled past with their immaculate greens, always sufficiently watered by sprinklers. Surrounded by desert, that was probably the ultimate sign for having money. Elaborate Christmas decorations adorned the porches and fronts of freshly painted houses.

That wouldn’t be my stop.

The bus trudged on, the floor vibrating under my bare feet, until finally it arrived in that part of town where no tourist would ever set foot in. The All-you-can-eat buffets cost only $9,99 around here, not $59. I could afford neither. I swung my backpack over my shoulder. Not that I minded. I’d grown up in areas like these. In Phoenix, Houston, Dallas, Austin…and more other places than I cared to count.

Out of habit I reached into my pocket for a mobile that was no longer there. Mother had sold it for her last dose of crystal meth. Those $20 had been a pity sell, no doubt.

I slipped into my flip-flops, tossed my backpack over my shoulder and waited until most of the other people had left before I stepped off the bus, releasing a long breath. The air was drier than in Austin and it was a few degrees colder, but still not wintery cold. Somehow I felt already freer away from my mother. This was her last shot at therapy. I hoped she’d make it a success. I was stupid for hoping she could.

“Leona?” came a deep voice from somewhere to the right.

I turned, surprised. My father stood a few feet from me. About thirty more pounds on his hips, and less hair on his head. I hadn’t expected him to pick me up. He’d promised to do it, but I knew what a promise from him or my mother was worth. Less than the dirt under my shoes. Perhaps he’d really changed like he’d claimed?

He quickly stubbed out his cigarette under his worn out loafers. The short-sleeved shirt stretched over his pouch. There was an erratic air about him that had me worried.

I smiled. “The one and only.”

I wasn’t surprised he’d had to ask. The last time I’d seen him had been on my fourteenth birthday, more than five years ago. I hadn’t exactly missed him. I’d missed the idea of a father he could never be. Still it was nice to see him again. Perhaps we could start anew.

He came over to me and drew me into an awkward hug. I wrapped my arms around him despite the lingering stench of sweat and smoke. It had been a while since someone had hugged me. He pulled back and scanned me from head to toe. “You’ve grown.” His eyes stopped on my smile. “And your pimples are gone.”

Have been for three years. “Thank god,” I said instead. He pushed his hands into his pockets, as if he was suddenly unsure of what to do with me. “I was surprised when you called.”

I tugged a strand of hair behind my ear, not sure I knew where he was going with this. “You never did,” I said, sounding light-hearted. I hadn’t come to Vegas to dish out guilt Dad had never been a good father, but he’d tried occasionally, even if he always failed. Mother and him, they were both fucked up in their very own way. Their addictions had always been the thing getting in the way of caring for me the way they should have. It would always be like that.

He appraised me. “Are you sure you want to stay with me?”

My smile wavered. Was this what this was all about? He didn’t want me around? I really wished he’d mentioned it before I’d paid for a bus ticket that took me through half the States. He’d said he had won over his addiction, that he had a decent job and a normal life. I wanted to believe him.

“It’s not that I’m not happy to have you with me. I missed you,” he said quickly; too quickly. Lies.

“Then what?” I asked, trying but failing to hide my rising hurt.

“It’s not a good place for a nice girl like you, Leona.”

I laughed. “I’ve never exactly lived in the nice parts of town,” I told him. “I can handle myself.”

“No. It’s different here. Believe me.”

“Don’t worry. I’m good at staying out of trouble.” I’d had years of practice. With a meth-addicted mother who sold anything, even her body, for her next fix, you had to learn to duck your head and mind your own business.

“Sometimes trouble finds you. It happens around here more often than you’d believe.” The way he said it, I worried that trouble was a constant guest in his life.

I sighed. “Honestly, Dad, I’ve lived with a mother who spent most of her days passed out on the sofa and you never worried enough to take me away from her. Now that I’m grown up, you are worried I can’t handle living in the city of sin?”

He looked at me as if he was going to say more but then he finally took my backpack before I could tighten my hold. “You are right.”

“And I’m only going to stay here until I’ve earned enough money for college. There are enough places around here where I can own decent money with tips I suppose?”

He looked relieved that I wanted to work. Had he thought I was going to live off him?

“There are more than enough places, but few that are fit for a girl like you.”

I shook my head with a smile. “Don’t worry. I can handle drunkards.”

“I’m not worried about them,” he said nervously.

Fabiano

“Are you really thinking about working with the Famiglia?” I panted as I dodged a kick aimed at my head. “I told you how they fucked with the Outfit.”

I thrust my bandaged fist into Remo’s side, then tried a kick at his legs and got a fist into my stomach instead. I jumped back, out of Remo’s reach. Then feigned an attack to the left but kicked with my right leg instead. Remo’s arm shot up, protecting his head and taking the full force of my kick. He didn’t fall. “I don’t want to work with them. Not with Luca fucking Vitiello, nor with Dante fucking Cavallaro. We don’t need them.”

“Then why send me to New York?” I asked.

Remo landed two quick punches in my left side. I sucked in a breath and rammed my elbow down on his shoulder. He hissed and darted away, but I’d got him. His arm hung too low. I’d dislocated his shoulder. My favorite move.

“Open refusal?” he asked half in jest, giving no indication that he was in agony.

“You wish.”

Remo liked to break things. I didn’t think he liked anything better. Sometimes I thought he wanted me to revolt so he could try breaking me because I’d be his biggest challenge. I had no intention of giving him the chance. Not that he’d succeed.

He glared and lunged at me. I barely dodged his first two kicks; the third hit my chest. I was thrown into the boxing ring and almost lost my balance but caught myself by gripping the rope. I quickly straightened and raised my fists.

“Oh fuck this shit,” Remo snarled. He grabbed his arm and tried to relocate his shoulder. “I can’t fight with this fucking useless limb.”

I lowered my hands. “So you give up?”

“No,” he said. “Tie.”

“Tie,” I agreed. There had never been anything but ties in our fights except for the very first year when I’d been a scrawny kid without a clue how to fight. We were both too strong fighters, too used to pain, too indifferent if we lived or died. If we ever fought it out till the end, we’d both end up dead, no doubt about it. I snatched up a towel from the floor, and wiped blood and sweat from my chest and arms.

With a grunt, Remo finally managed to set his arm. If I’d helped, it would have been quicker and less painful. He’d never let me. Pain meant nothing to him. Nor to me.

I threw a clean towel at him and he caught it with his injured arm to prove a point. He dried his hair but only managed to spread the blood from a cut in his head all over his black hair. He dropped the towel unceremoniously. His scar running from his left temple down to his left cheek was an angry red from fighting.

“So why?” I asked, removing the red-tinged bandages around my fingers and wrist.

“I want to see how things are going over there. I’m curious. That’s all. And I like to know my enemies. You will be able to gather more information than any of us just by watching them interact. But most of all I want to send them a clear message.” His dark eyes became hard. “You aren’t thinking about playing happy family with your sisters and becoming one of Vitiello’s lapdogs?”

I cocked one eyebrow. More than five years. And he really had to ask? I swung myself over the boxing ring and landed on the floor on the other side with close to no sound. “I belong to the Camorra. When they all abandoned me, you took me in. You made me who I am today, Remo. You should know better than to accuse me of being a traitor. I will put my life down for you. And if I must, I will take the Outfit and the Famiglia to hell with me.”

“One day you will get your chance,” he said.

To lay down my life for him, or to take down the other families?

“I have another task for you.”

I nodded. I’d expected it. He held my eyes. “You are the only one who can get close to Aria. She is Vitiello’s weakness.”

I kept my expression impassive.

“Bring her to me, Fabiano.”

“Dead or alive?”

He smiled. “Alive. If you kill her, Vitiello will go on a rampage but if we have his wife, he’ll be our puppet.”

I didn’t have to ask why he had an interest in tearing down the Famiglia. We didn’t need their territory and it wasn’t worth much as long as Dante owned everything in the middle. We were making enough money in the West as it was. Remo was out for revenge. Luca had made a mistake when he’d taken in the former Enforcer of the Camorra, and he’d made an even bigger mistake when he’d sent the man back to kill many high ranking Camorrista while Las Vegas was without a strong Capo to lead the city. Before Remo.

“See it as done.”

Remo inclined his head. “Your father was a fucking fool for overlooking your worth. But that’s how fathers are. Mine would have never allowed me to become Capo. It’s a pity I didn’t get to kill him myself.”

That was something Remo envied me for. I could still kill my father, and one day I would.

It had been years since I’d last treaded New York ground. I’d never liked the city much. It had meant nothing but loss to me.

The bouncer in front of the Sphere gave me a once over as I approached. I detected another guard on the roof. The street was deserted except for us. That wasn’t going to change until much later when the first party-goers would try to get in.

I stopped in front of the bouncer. He rested his hand on the gun in his hip holder. He wouldn’t be quick enough. “Fabiano Scuderi,” I said simply. Of course he knew. They all knew. Without a word, he let me walk into the waiting room. Two men barred my way there. “Weapons,” one of them ordered, pointing at a table.

“No,” I said.

The taller of the two, several inches shorter than me, brought his face close to mine. “What was that?”

“That was a no. If you’re too deaf or stupid to understand me, get someone who can. I’m losing my patience.”

The man’s head turned red. It would take three moves to severe his head from his body. “Tell the Capo he’s here and refuses to put down his weapons.”

If he thought he could intimidate me with the mentioning of Luca, he was mistaken. The times when I’d feared and admired him had long passed. He was dangerous, no doubt, but so was I.

Eventually, he returned and I was finally allowed to pass through the blue-lit cloakroom and dance floor, then down to the basement. Good place if someone wanted to stop outsiders from overhearing screams. That, too, didn’t manage to unnerve me. The Famiglia didn’t know the Camorra very well, didn’t know me very well. We’d never been worth their attention until our power had grown too strong for them to ignore.

The moment I stepped into the office I scanned my surroundings. Growl stood off to the left side. Traitor. Remo would love to have his head delivered to him in a plastic bag. Not because the man had killed his father, but because he’d betrayed the Camorra. That crime was worth a painful death.

In the middle of the room there were Luca and Matteo, both tall and dark, and my sister Aria with her blond hair like a beacon of light.

I remembered her to be taller, but then again, I’d been a kid when I’d last seen her. The shock on her face was obvious. She still wore her emotions on the sleeve. Even her marriage to Luca hadn’t changed that. You’d think he’d have broken her spirit by now. Strange that she was the same I remembered when I had become someone new.

She rushed toward me. Luca reached for her but she was too quick. He and his men drew their weapons the moment Aria collided with me. My hand came up to her neck momentarily. She hugged me, her hands splayed out on my back where I had my knives. She was too trusting. I could have killed her in a heartbeat. Breaking her neck would have taken little effort. I’d killed like that before in fights to the death. Luca’s bullet would have been too late. She looked up at me hopefully, then slowly realization and fear set in. Yes, Aria. I’m not a little boy anymore.

I looked back up. “No need for drawn weapons,” I said to Luca. His cautious gaze flitted between my fingers positioned perfectly on her neck and my eyes. He recognized the danger his little wife was in, even if she didn’t. “I haven’t traveled all the way to hurt my sister.”

It was the truth. I had no intention of hurting her, even though I could have. What Remo had in mind for her, I couldn’t say. I slipped a note into the pocket of her jeans.

Luca staggered toward us and pulled her away from me, warning clear in his eyes.

“My God,” Aria whispered, tears filling her eyes. “What happened to you?”

Did she really have to ask? Had she been so busy saving my sisters, that she hadn’t considered what that would mean for me?

“You, Gianna and Liliana happened.”

Confusion filled her face. She really didn’t get it. Cold fury shot through me, but I pushed it down. Every horror of my past had made me who I was today.

“I don’t understand.”

“After Liliana ran off as well, Father decided that something must be wrong with all of us. That perhaps Mother’s blood running through our veins was the problem. He thought I was another misfortune in the making. He tried to beat it out of me. Perhaps he thought if I bled often enough, I’d be rid of any trace of that weakness. The moment his whore of a second wife gave birth to a boy, he decided I was no longer of use. He ordered one of his men to kill me. But the man took pity on me and drove me to some shithole in Kansas City so the Bratva could kill me instead. I had twenty dollars and a knife.” I paused. “And I put that knife to good use.”

I could see the words sink in. She shook her head. “We didn’t want to hurt you. We just wanted to save Liliana from a horrible marriage. We didn’t think you’d need saving. You were a boy. You were on your way to becoming a soldier of the Outfit. We would have saved you if you’d asked.”

“I saved myself,” I said simply.

“You could still…leave Las Vegas,” Aria said carefully. Luca sent her a glare.

I laughed darkly. “Are you suggesting I’ll leave the Camorra and join the Famiglia?”

She seemed taken aback by the harshness of my tone. “It’s an option.”

I turned my gaze toward Luca. “Is she Capo or you? I came here to talk to the man leading the show, but now I think it might be a woman after all.”

Luca didn’t seem fazed by my words, at least not openly. “She’s your sister. She does the talking because I allowed her to do so. Don’t worry, Fabi, if I had anything to say to you, I’d do it.”

Fabi. The nickname didn’t provoke me the way it was supposed to. I’d grown out of it. Nobody knew me by that name in Vegas and even if they did, they wouldn’t dare using it.

“We are not your enemy, Fabi,” Aria said. And I knew she meant it. She was the Capo’s vice, and yet she knew nothing. Her husband saw me as I saw him: an opponent to watch. A predator intruding on his territory.

“I’m a member of the Camorra. You are my enemies.” If this journey had been good for anything, then to prove to myself that there was truly nothing left of that stupid, weak boy I’d been. It had been beaten out of me, first by my father, and later in the street and in the fighting cages as I fought for a place in this world.

Aria shook her head, not able to understand. She hadn’t abandoned me on purpose, hadn’t sealed my fate with my sisters by helping them running away on purpose, but sometimes the things we caused by accident were the worst.

“I have a message from Remo for you,” I told Luca, ignoring my sister. I’d deal with her later. She wasn’t the only reason why I had come to New York. “You have nothing to offer to Remo or the Camorra, unless perhaps you send him your wife for a joy ride.” The words left a bitter taste in my mouth, if only because she was my sister.

Luca was halfway through the room before Aria stepped in his way. I had my gun out and one of my knives. “Calm down, Luca,” Aria begged. He glared at me. Oh, he wanted to rip me to shreds, and I wanted to see him try. He’d be a challenging opponent. Instead he let my sister talk him down, but his eyes held a promise: You are dead.

Remo would have never listened to a woman, would have never shown that kind of weakness in front of anyone. Neither would I. The Outfit and the Famiglia both had grown weak over the years. They weren’t a threat to us. If we handled the situation with cleverness, soon their territories would be ours.

I performed a mock bow. “I assume that’s all.”

“Don’t you want to know how Lilly and Gianna are doing?” Aria asked hopefully, still looking for a sign of the boy she used to know. I wondered when she’d realize that he was gone for good. Perhaps when the Camorra took over power some day and I’d ram my knife into her husband’s heart.

“They mean nothing to me. The day you left for your pampered life in New York, you ceased existing for me.”

I turned. Presenting my back to the enemy wasn’t something I’d usually do. But I knew Aria would stop Luca from killing me with her puppy dog eyes, and I wanted to show him and his brother Matteo that I didn’t fear them. I hadn’t feared anyone in a long time.

It was almost two o’clock in the night. It had begun snowing a while ago and a fine layer of white covered my jacket and the ground to my feet. I’d been waiting for more than one hour. Perhaps Aria had more sense than I gave her credit for.

Soft steps crunched to my right. I pushed off the wall, drawing my gun but lowered it when Aria came into view, wrapped in a thick wool coat and scarf. She stopped across from me. “Hello Fabi.” She held out the paper that I’d shoved into her pocket. “You said you wanted to talk to me alone because you needed my help?”

Her need to help others, first Gianna, then Lily and now me, was her greatest weakness. I really wished she’d stayed home. I moved closer.

She regarded me with sad eyes. “But you were lying, weren’t you?” she whispered. If we hadn’t stood so close, I wouldn’t have understood her. “You were trying to get me alone.”

If she knew, why had she come?

Did she hope for mercy? Then I realized why she’d whispered. I tightened my hold on my gun. My eyes searched the darkness until I found Luca leaning against a wall to the far left, his gun pointed at my head.

I smiled then because I’d underestimated her, and a small, weak part was relieved. “Finally being sensible, Aria.”

“I know a thing or two about mob life.”

Only the things Luca allowed her to see, no doubt.

“Aren’t you worried for your life?” she asked curiously.

“Why would I be?”

She sighed. “Did the Camorra want to kidnap me?” Again that whisper, not meant for Luca’s ears. Was she trying to save me from his wrath? She shouldn’t have.

I didn’t say anything. Unlike Luca I didn’t divulge information only because she batted her eyes at me. The time when she’d held power over me as my older sister had long passed. But my silence seemed all the answer she needed.

She lifted one arm and I followed the movement cautiously. With her other hand she removed a piece of jewelry from her wrist and held it out to me.

“It was Mother’s. She gave it to me shortly before her death. I want you to have it.”

“Why?” I asked as I peered down at the gold bracelet with sapphires. I didn’t remember our mother wearing it, but I’d been only twelve when she’d died and on the brink of starting the induction process to the Outfit. I’d had other things on my mind than expensive jewelry.

“Because I want you to remember.”

“The family that abandoned me?”

“No, the boy you used to be and the man you can still be.”

“Who says I want to remember?” I said in a low voice, leaning down to her, so she could look into my eyes despite the dark. I heard the soft click of Luca releasing the safety catch. I smirked. “You want me to be a better man. Why don’t you start with the man who’s pointing a gun at my head?”

She pushed the bracelet against my chest and I took it at last.

“Perhaps one day you’ll find someone who will love you despite what you’ve become, and she will make you want to be better.” She stepped away. “Goodbye, Fabiano. Luca wants you to know that next time you come to New York, you will pay with your life.”

My fingers tightened around the bracelet. I had no intention of returning to this God-forsaken city for any other reason than to rip it from Luca’s bleeding hands.