Twisted Loyalties (The Camorra Chronicles Book 1)

The cool night air filled my lungs. I was glad for the reprieve from Leona’s tantalizing scent. I wanted to bent her over the hood of my car and bury myself to the hilt in her. Fuck, I wanted to do it over and over again. I wasn’t sure why these damn freckles and cornflower eyes got to me, but they fucking did. Perhaps she could see it in my expression. I’d never seen her more uneasy in my company than in that car.

I ran a hand through my hair, still damp from my earlier shower. I’d pummeled the fucking boxing bag for too long and almost been late for the date. In the last couple of years I’d mainly dealt with whores or pole dancers, and the occasional society girl. It was always clear from the start what they wanted: money, drugs or attention from the press. They weren’t shy. They wanted something from me, so they showed me what they could offer. Sex with them had been a satisfying joyride without holding back. Leona was different.

Her shyness irritated and fascinated me at the same time. She was a challenge I’d never had, and my body was eager to conquer it. Too fucking eager.

She stepped out of the car, looking almost flustered. She kept her eyes trained on the sight below us as she came around the car. Her hands were clutching the tacky old backpack.

“You are obsessed with that thing,” I said, feeling the irritating urge to lighten the mood and set her at ease.

She let out a small laugh, eyes crinkling. “I thought it went well with my shoes.” She lifted her foot a couple of inches.

My gaze went to her dark green leather flats, then up to the backpack of unidentifiable color. Perhaps it had been beige a long time ago. She was definitely the first woman that came to a date with me, holding a fucking backpack. I chuckled. “Remind me that next time we go shopping, I’ll buy you one of those fancy purses girls go crazy over.”

Her eyebrows shot up, then drew together. “You can’t keep buying things for me.”

I swiveled my body around, so we were standing close as I leveled my gaze on her. She didn’t back off, but I could see goose bumps rise along her arms. “Who’s going to stop me?”

Remo couldn’t care less if I spent my money on women, cars or property, as long as I didn’t start betting or gambling, or worse neglect my duties.

“I will?” It was voiced more a question than a statement.

“Are you asking me or telling me?”

Her frown deepened and she sighed. “I’m no good at playing these power games. I don’t want to be.”

“Who said this is a power game?”

“Isn’t it always? With men it’s always about exerting dominance. And you…” She shook her head.

“And I?” I prompted.

“Everything you do is a sign of dominance. When I saw you in the fighting cage that was perhaps the most relaxed you ever acted. But outside of it, you are like a hunter, always looking for someone who might dare to challenge your status.”

I smiled. She seemed to think she knew me. She’d seen a lot in her life. I got that, but the world I’d grown up in was a very different kind of shark tank. “In our world, you are either hunter or prey, Leona. I know what I am. What are you?”

I pressed my palms against her bare shoulders, then slid them lower, watching her reaction. She shivered. She didn’t push me away though, but I could tell that she was thinking about it.

“Prey,” she admitted reluctantly. “I will always be.” She looked past me toward Las Vegas, looking lost and resigned.

My hands stilled on her back. This unguarded admission did something strange to me. It unleashed a protective, fierce side I hadn’t experienced toward a woman since I’d been a scrawny kid and tried to defend my sisters. The soft breeze was tugging at her brown curls as she lost herself in the sight of the city.

I bent down and kissed her ear. She released a shuddering breath. “Perhaps you need a protector, so you stop being easy prey.”

“Am I easy prey?” she asked quietly.

I didn’t bother replying. We both knew how it was. And in a city like this, a city ruled by us, a girl like her was lost. “Do you want a protector?”

She closed her eyes as I kissed the skin below her ear. For once she made it hard to read her. “And you think you can be my protector?”

I could protect her against almost any threat. Not against the Camorra. And not against myself. But it wasn’t something I should consider. “You saw me fight. Do you doubt it?”

She opened her eyes and tilted her head up toward me, blue eyes soft and probing. “No,” she said. “But I think you and your way of life are threats too.”

I didn’t deny it.

“Why do you even want to protect me?”

To be honest, I didn’t know. Perhaps Aria had somehow managed to get through to me, and it made me fucking furious to think about it. That fucking bracelet. I shouldn’t have accepted it.

“There’s nothing I could give you in return.” Her expression became more determined. “I don’t have any money to spare, and I don’t think you’d want it. You certainly don’t need it. And if it’s something else you want, I’m not that kind of girl.”

Not that kind of girl. Remo’s words about her mother flashed through my mind. Was this an act after all?

There was an easy way to find out of course. I gripped her hips. Her lips parted in surprise but I didn’t give her the chance to voice a protest.

I kissed her and after a moment of hesitation she kissed me back.

I knew at once that she didn’t have much experience kissing. Fuck. That knowledge was the last straw. I had to have her. Every little inch of her. Every hair. Every freckle. Every fucking shy smile. For myself.

And I had to protect her from all the wolves she reckoned were sheep. My fingers tangled in her curls, angling her head to the side to give me better access to that sweet mouth of hers.

I slid my hands from her waist to her bare back again, then lower. Her hands came up against my chest. I savored the taste of her a few seconds longer before I allowed her to push me away.

Her dark lashes fluttered as her gaze found mine. In the light of the spotlights, I couldn’t see if her cheeks were as flushed as I expected them to be. I brought my hand up and brushed my knuckles along her high cheekbones. Her skin was practically burning up with embarrassment and want. My cock twitched in my pants.

She tore herself away from me, walked to the edge of the hill we were on and looked out toward the bright city lights.

I let my eyes take in her silhouette for a couple of moments, allowing her to gather herself, before I approached and came to a stop right behind her. She didn’t acknowledge my presence except for the slight tensing of her shoulders. Her sweet flowery perfume drifted into my nose. I traced the line of her spine with my knuckles, needing to feel her silky skin.

Leona

That touch ignited desires I’d suppressed for a long time. Fabiano always touched me as if he didn’t want me to find reprieve from him. Did he know the effect he had on me?

“Why did you bring me here?” I asked.

“Because I thought you’d appreciate the sight. You haven’t been in Las Vegas for very long.”

“Wouldn’t the Strip be the better place to show someone the city?”

Fabiano stepped up to my side, and I was glad to be able to see him again. Having him so close behind me, having him ran his fingers down my spine, was too distracting.

He pushed his hands into the pockets of his slacks, his blue eyes straying over the city below us. And for the first time I caught the briefest glimpse behind his mask. This was a place he was coming to often. I could tell. This city, it was important to him. It was his home.

I’d never had a place to call home. How would it be to look at something or someone, and feel home?

“There are too many people around who don’t get the city. Up here I have the city to myself.”

“So you don’t like to share?” I said teasingly.

He turned his gaze to me. “Never. Not even my city.”

I shivered. Nodding, I quickly looked back to the skyline. “Were you born here?”

I wasn’t very perceptive but I could tell that he didn’t like where our conversation was heading.

“No. Not in the sense that you mean,” he said quietly. “But I was reborn here.”

I searched his face, but he wasn’t giving anything away. His face was all hard lines. Silence stretched between us.

“I thought this could be a new start for me as well,” I said eventually.

“Why would you need a new start?”

“All my life I’ve been judged for the faults of my mother. I want to be judged for my own doing.”

“Being in the shadow of your family isn’t easy,” he said, meeting my gaze. Another small crack in his mask. “But being judged for your own wrongdoings can be hard as well.”

“Do you think I will do many wrong things?”

He smirked. “You are here with me. I’d say you have a strong penchant for the wrong things.”

I feared he was right. “Because you are in the mafia.”

“Because I am part of the Camorra.” I loved the way he rolled the ‘r’s when he said the word. I could almost feel the vibrations all the way in the pit of my stomach. But I wondered why he insisted there was a difference between the Camorra and the mafia.

“Because I am their Enforcer.”

“Enforcer,” I said uncertainly. I’d never heard that term before. “So you’re enforcing their laws like some kind of mob police.”

He chuckled. “Something like that,” he said darkly. My gut pulled tight at the dark undercurrent in his voice.

I waited for him to elaborate but he seemed content to leave me ignorant. I decided to ask Cheryl about it later. If I had a mobile, or if my Dad had a working computer, I’d have googled the term but as it was I needed to rely on old fashioned channels to get information. Fabiano was obviously unwilling to reveal more about what he was doing.

“I thought you’d be eager to see tonight’s fight. I hear it’s a big one.”

Fabiano shrugged. “It is, but I have watched thousands of fights in my life, have fought hundreds. I don’t care if I miss one.” His eyes settled on me. “And I wanted you for myself.”

Was he embarrassed of being seen with me? The poor little waitress and he, the big deal mobster.

I rubbed my arms, the night’s cold catching up with me. Fabiano pressed up behind me and began stroking my arms through the thin fabric of my dress. Always close, always touching. His spicy aftershave engulfed me like his arms did. “What do you want from me?” I whispered.

“Everything.”

Everything.

That word still made my breathing hitch as I lay awake that night after our date. There was no way I could fall asleep.

I don’t like to share.

Everything.

I’d been curious about Fabiano. I was attracted to him. But curiosity killed the cat. And I feared that being close to Fabiano might put an end to all the plans I’d so carefully laid ahead. I wanted to see him again. I wanted to kiss him again, but I knew it wasn’t a good idea. I wasn’t sure what to do.

Just let it happen.

Being with him made me feel good. Very few things in my life did. Why not allow myself that small sin? Because that’s what he was: sin.

The next day, I made sure to be at work early to have time for a conversation with Cheryl. The other waitress of unknown age was there as well. Mel – was her name. I had to wait until she was finally off cleaning the changing rooms before I could confront Cheryl. A few of our regular customers were already sitting at their favorite table, but they could wait a couple of minutes. Officially the bar wasn’t even open yet. It wasn’t like they came here for the extraordinary service anyway.

“You had the evening off,” was the first thing out of Cheryl’s mouth when Mel had disappeared through the back door. “On the day of a big fight.”

“I had a date with Fabiano.”

She shook her head, mouth pinching. “God, Chick. Don’t you know what’s good for you?”

“What’s an Enforcer?”

She sighed. She nodded toward the table with the men. “See Eddie over there?”

I nodded.

“His arm is in a cast because of your Fabiano. First warning as they call it.”

My eyes grew wide. Fabiano was beating people up? “First warning,” I said carefully. “What’s the second and third warning?”

She smiled sympathetically. “That depends how much money you owe and in what kind of mood Falcone and Fabiano are. Smashed knee cap? Cut off finger? Having the living daylights beaten out of you.” She paused for effect, gauging my reaction. “Third warning will make you wish for death.”

“And if people still don’t pay?” Sometimes people wouldn’t be able to pay. It could happen. I had lost count of the times my mother had been broke. Even a beating wouldn’t have changed that. And even if she’d come to money, she would probably have used it for crystal.

Cheryl ran a finger over her throat.

I looked down at my hands, which were clutching the bar counter. I would have been lying if I’d said I couldn’t imagine Fabiano being capable of something like that. I’d seen him fight, had seen the darkness in his eyes.

“Now you have second thoughts,” she said. “Perhaps you get lucky and he’ll lose interest in you soon. It’s not like these men would ever consider having a serious relationship with someone like us.”

I stiffened. “What do you mean?”

“They are Italian mobsters. They like to play with normal women like us but they’ll marry Italian virgins from noble upbringing. It’s always been like that. I don’t think a new Capo will change that.”

“This is the twenty-first century and we’re not in Italy.”

“Might as well be because their traditions and rules are from there.”

Everything.

In my silly mind I’d construed the word to mean body and mind, but now I wondered if Fabiano was on the lookout for a few nights before he’d move on to the next woman. This was all too much baggage for me. Him, being an Enforcer, and the mafia with their old-fashioned rules. My life had always been a mess and was still messed up enough without him adding fuel to the fire. Even if my body ached for his touch, and even if some stupid part of me wanted to get to know him, the real him, I had to stay away from him. Perhaps I was a fixer, but I had to fix my own life before I could consider fixing someone else.

Business was slow that evening. Most customers had lost considerable amounts of money the night before during the big fight, and stayed away from the bar. I wouldn’t have minded a busy day, as it would have distracted me from my wandering thoughts. When I walked past a table occupied with two older men who’d been drinking the same beer for almost one hour, I overheard a snippet of their conversation that caught my attention.

“Killed him. Just like that. Twisted his head, broke his neck. But the old guy knew what was coming. Shouldn’t have tried to run away without paying his debt. Falcone don’t like that. I always pay. Even if it means no food for days. Better hungry than dead.”

“You got it,” rasped the other man, then fell into a coughing fit. I busied myself wiping the table next to them, hoping to find out who had broken someone’s neck. The mere idea sent a shiver down my back. Sadly, the men seemed to have caught on to my presence and switched their conversation to the upcoming fights. Had Fabiano been the one to kill a man?

When I left the bar at quarter after two that night, Fabiano’s car was parked in front of the entrance.

I froze mid-step, half hoping it was a coincidence. He shoved open the passenger door. “Get in. Can’t let you walk on your own at night.”

At a look at his handsome face, I wasn’t sure I could end things between us. I wasn’t sure I wanted to. People had seldom kept the promises they’d given to me. I’d learned to expect disappointment, but here he was keeping his promise to protect me. The first time in my life there was someone who could protect me. My mother had never been capable of it. Not against her own mood shifts, not against the beatings of her disgusting boyfriends, not against the insults hurtled at me by other kids.

Fabiano was dangerous. He wasn’t someone to stay close to. But the idea that for the first time in my life there was someone who could keep me safe was too enticing.

Fabiano

I’d caught her hesitation when she’d spotted me. Like a mouse in front of the trap, torn between tasting the cheese and running off.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, arms wrapped around her old backpack as if she needed another barrier between us.

“I told you I would protect you, and that’s what I’m doing. I don’t want you to walk around at night alone.”

She stared out of the passenger window, hiding her face in the shadows. My grip on the steering wheel tightened. “You can’t drive me home every night. I’m sure you’ve got work to do.”

Her lips pinched, and her fingers dug into her backpack. What had she heard? There were always rumors about me. The worst were usually true.

“Don’t worry. I can make time for important things.”

The Camorra was important. Remo and his brothers were important. She wasn’t supposed to be.

She turned, brows furrowing. “Important? Am I?”

She wasn’t. She was…I wasn’t sure what she was to me. I kept thinking about her when she wasn’t around. About those damn freckles, and those shy smiles. About how she was alone, had been alone even when she’d still lived with her mother. I knew how it was to be alone while being in a house with other people. My father. His second wife. The maids.

I ignored her question. “If I’m not in the parking lot after work, then wait in the bar for me until I pick you up.”

“I’m not in kindergarten. I don’t need someone to pick me up. Not even you, Fabiano. There’s no reason for you to do this. I can protect myself.”

I pulled up in her street.

Once I’d shut off the engine, I turned to her. “How?”

“I just can,” she said defensively.

I nodded toward her backpack. “With what’s in there.”

“How do you…” Her eyes widened a fraction before she caught herself. “It’s my problem, isn’t it?”

“It was before. Now it is mine. I don’t like the idea of someone getting their filthy hands on you.”

She shook her head. “We’re not together, are we? So I can’t see how it’s your business.”

I leaned over but she backed up against the passenger door. So that’s how it was going to be? “The kiss we shared means it is my business.”

“We won’t kiss again,” she said firmly, determinedly.

I smirked. “We’ll see.” I knew she was attracted to me. I’d sensed how strongly the kiss had affected her, how her eyes had dilated with lust. Perhaps her mind was telling her to stay away but her body wanted to get much closer, and I would make her give in to that desire. Even now, as I leaned close to her, I could see the conflict in her body language. The way her eyes darted to my lips and her fingers clutched her backpack at the same time.

“You can’t force me,” she said, then bit her lip, reconsidering.

“I could,” I said with a shrug, then leaned back in my seat, giving her space. “But I won’t.” There was no fun in using my power or force to get what I wanted. Not with Leona. I wanted to conquer her. I wanted many things.

She gripped the door handle, but I put a hand down on her knee. She shivered under my touch but didn’t pull away. Her skin was warm and soft, and I had to suppress the urge to trail my hand up under her skirt and between her legs. “What is it you got to defend yourself?”

She hesitated.

“Believe me, Leona, it doesn’t matter if it’s a knife, gun or Taser. It won’t do any good against me.”

“It’s a knife. A butterfly knife.”

I’d have guessed Taser. Women usually preferred them or pepper spray because it was less personal than having to ram a blade into someone’s flesh. “Have you ever used it?”

“You mean on someone?”

“Of course. I don’t care if you can make a sandwich with it.”

Anger sparked in her blue eyes, and I had to admit that I enjoyed seeing that kind of fire in them, when she’d seemed so docile and sweet the first time I’d talked to her. It promised more fun in other areas.

“Of course not. Unlike you and your mob friends, I don’t enjoy killing people.”

Friends? The mob wasn’t about friendship. It was about dedication and loyalty. It was about honor and commitment. I didn’t have friends. Remo and his brothers were the closest thing to friends I had, but what connected us was stronger. They were like family. My chosen family. I didn’t bother explaining all this to Leona. She wouldn’t have understood. For an outsider, this world wasn’t understandable.

“You don’t have to enjoy killing to be good at it. But I doubt that you’ll ever get the chance to consider killing someone. I think you’d be disarmed in no time and probably get a taste of your own blade. You have to learn how to handle a knife, how to hold it and where to aim.”

“You didn’t deny it,” she whispered.

“Deny what?”

“That you killed people, that you enjoyed it.” I didn’t say that with some people there had been quite a bit of joy in ending their fucking lives. And I knew that killing my father one day would outshine every other kill so far. Leona looked honestly puzzled by my reaction. Had she still not grasped the concept of being a Made Man?

Instead of a reply, I tapped the tattoo on my forearm.

She reached out, fingertips gracing the black lines of ink. Her touch was always so careful. I had never been touched like that by a woman. They usually raked their fingernails over my back, clutched and stroked. There was nothing careful about these encounters. I’d enjoyed it, but this…Fuck, this I enjoyed more.

“Could you get it removed? Could you stop being what you are?”

I didn’t know any other life. The few day when I hadn’t been part of the Outfit and not yet part of the Camorra, before I’d found Remo or rather before he’d found me, I had been like driftwood, caught up in the tide, no destination to my journey. Days that had felt like eternity. I’d been adrift. “I could. But I won’t.” Remo, of course, wouldn’t allow me to quit. This wasn’t a fucking job you could give your two-weeks notice to. This was for life. “You said it, it’s who I am.”

She nodded. Perhaps it had finally sunk in.

“I will teach you how to use that knife and how to defend yourself.”

She looked tired. That was perhaps why she didn’t try to argue even if I could tell that she wanted to. She opened the door and got out. She turned to me. “Sleep tight, Fabiano. If your conscience lets you.” She closed the door and headed toward the apartment building.

When I’d started my induction process in the Outfit, I’d felt guilt over what I’d seen others doing. And even later, when I first started to fight at Remo’s side, I’d felt bad for some of the things I’d done, but now? Not anymore. After years of being an Enforcer, I didn’t feel anything anymore. No regret or guilt. People knew what they were getting into when they owed us money. No one got into this without a fault of their own. And most of these guys would sell their own mother if it meant money to gamble or bet or buy shit.

I’d never had to kill an innocent. There were no innocents in our bars and casinos. They were lost souls. Stupid fuckers who lost their family’s home because they spent their nights gambling.

Leona was innocent. Despair had driven her to work in Roger’s bar. I hoped she’d never get in the crossfire. I didn’t like the idea of having to hurt her.