Chapter 9: Dangerous Deception: Chapter 9

“And then, and then we went to the beach and–and Isa–Isab–Isbel is teaching me to swim!” A grinning, dimpled face beams up at me from the tablet in my hand, with two rosy cheeks positively glowing from time spent in the Italian sun.

“Jaime,” comes a thick Italian accent off-screen. “I’ve told you to call me Nonna. It’s much easier.”

“Nonna,” the child repeats, smiling brightly at the woman on the other side of the screen. “Nonna is teaching me to swim!”

“That’s great, Jaime. Could you put Nonna on for me? I have to talk to her.”

“Okay!” The screen blurs as the tablet changes hands, and I hear Jaime screaming at the top of his lungs for his sister Katie, growing distant as he presumably runs away.

“Raffaele.” A deeply wrinkled, tanned face comes into view as Isabella situates herself on her chair. “I wondered when I would hear from you.”

“Sorry it’s taken me so long. How are the kids settling in?”

“As well as any five and eight-year-old can after being sent across the world to escape their tyrant father,” Isabella replies sharply.

“Did you tell them what happened to their mother?”

Isabella’s face twists, then she nods curtly. “Jaime is too young to understand, but he knows Katie is sad. She’s doing well. I think she understood her mother was in pain.”

“Well, the Amantes are no longer a problem for me, or a threat to them. I’ve set up trust funds for each of them, and if you want to send them back to the States⁠—”

“No,” Isabella cuts in quickly. “It’s fine. It’s been years since the vineyard has had children running around. I like it.”

“Not too much for your old bones?”

“Hey! Less of the cheek. You’re never too old for a spanking, boy.”

Her words draw a soft laugh from me. “Understood. Thank you for doing this.”

She shakes her head and squints against the morning sun. “It’s no problem. They needed a safe place to stay, and we have plenty of room here. I only wish their mother could have come with them.”

My smile immediately vanishes. I’d thought I had more time with their mother, but she was in more pain than I could have anticipated and my failure to protect her will continue to haunt me. Helping get her kids out of the country and ensuring that no member of the Amante family survived were the least I could do in her memory.

“What are you doing up at this time of night?” Isabella squints down at her watch. “Isn’t it almost four in the morning for you?”

“Work never sleeps, Isabella. You know that. I’ll check in again when I can. Let me know if you need anything.”

The call ends and the tablet falls dark as my car pulls to a stop outside a building with dark red neon lights and light music flowing out of the two open doors. I shove the tablet into the pocket in the door and climb out of the car to be greeted by Vito.

“Catch me up,” I say, rolling up my sleeves as we hurry toward the entrance.

“Four of them. Pretty sure they’re Irish. Got rough with a couple of the girls, so Ruby tried to nip it in the bud. That’s when things got nasty,” Vito explains.

Reaching the door, I motion for two of the men stationed outside to follow me in. Warm lighting greets us inside the brothel foyer from the dangling teardrop lights glittering above. The light pink walls melt into a deep red down each corridor, leading to the array of private rooms for people to find their entertainment. At the front desk stands Ruby, and my eyes immediately lock onto the split in her lower lip.

Anger ignites in my chest and my teeth clench. “Where are they?”

Ruby points down the left corridor, clutching a sheer shawl around her shoulders. “They kept one of my girls with them,” she calls as I break into a run down the corridor. “Don’t hurt her!”

Normally, I’d be pissed that Ruby felt the need to even ask me that, but given the situation, I won’t blame her. The call came through forty minutes ago about rowdy patrons who had shot a guard and were being overly rough with my girls. The only reason my men hadn’t stormed the place immediately was because the safety of my workers here is paramount and we don’t act without Ruby’s permission.

I may be the owner of this brothel and countless others like it, but women like Ruby are the ones with the power here.

A muted scream comes from one of the closed pink doors three down from where I am. Years of fighting together puts Vito on my left shoulder with his gun raised, but as we reach the door, I put my hand out and force him to lower it. We exchange a silent conversation with just a look—we can’t risk weapons with the girls involved—and then Vito swiftly kicks open the door so hard that it bounces violently off the wall and swings right back at us.

By then, we’ve already piled into the room and with the two men I brought in with us, we’re evenly matched. A blonde woman screams loudly and is sent flying to the floor by a hard slap from one of the Irish brutes. He becomes my target. I tackle him away from the woman scrambling across the floor, trusting that Vito and the other two will subdue their own targets. The air is thick with the stink of alcohol and sex. Blood stains the bedsheets, which only fuels my anger as I punch the brute and send him crashing into the small wooden side table.

The wood splinters under his weight. I punch him again and again. He tries to raise his fists to defend himself, but he’s dazed from my blows. I grab him by the scruff of his collar and pull him forward, then slam my knee up into his gut. He tries to charge at me and his shoulder collides with my stomach. We hit the ground. I grunt, narrowly avoiding his elbow as it crashes down near my face. Wrapping my legs around his thick middle, I flip us over and punch him squarely in the face. His nose explodes like a water balloon and blood sprays across his face. He yells and throws a badly-aimed punch. I dodge, catch him by the elbow, and twist his arm around and upward until something pops and he screams.

The fight is over within ten minutes, and soon, all four Irish brutes are kneeling in the hallway with their hands tied behind their backs and their obedience trained under the barrels of the guns watching them. Three of them are quietly panting while the fourth, the one whose elbow I broke, is grunting and groaning with fire blazing in his eyes.

“You fucker.” He spits, and blood drools over his fat lower lip. “The Captain will have your head for this!”

I finish casually wiping the blood off my hands with a rag while he speaks, then toss it into the trashcan through the door of the open room. “Let him try.”

“He won’t need to try,” the man slurs. “He’ll succeed, you fucking asshole.”

“I’m not scared of the Irish Captain,” I snort, amused. “If he employs men as thick as you, then I’m not sure he’s any kind of threat to me.”

“Why you—” One of the men surges up and is brought straight back to his knees by a blow from the butt of Vito’s gun.

“Sit,” Vito growls.

“Look at you all. Pathetic. Starting shit in one of my brothels is a death sentence.”

“Only if you want a war,” snarls Busted-Elbow.

“Maybe I do.” I slowly drop down to my haunches in front of him, letting my gun dangle loosely from my hand. “Maybe I’m just itching for a chance to rid this city of you green dicks. Does it make you feel like a man, huh? Paying to beat on women who are only here to please you? You get some sick kick out of it?”

“You don’t know shit,” the man snarls. “Bitch took my fucking money!”

“No shit, this is a fucking brothel, you dumb bastard! I thought you Irish were supposed to be able to hold your alcohol.”

“He ain’t Irish,” snickers one of the severely drunk men to the left. He’s swaying back and forth and his eyes are glazed over from one too many shots. “He’s American, just thinks he’s Irish because of his great, great, great… great-grandpa or something⁠—”

“Shut the fuck up!” hisses broken-elbow.

“Shit. You’re one of those, huh?” I glance them all over in disgust, then stand back up and walk away.

Vito falls into step beside me. “What do you want to do with them?”

“I definitely don’t want a war with the Irish,” I say in a low voice. “But this won’t slide. Kill one. I don’t care which. Let Ruby decide what happens to the rest.”

“Understood.”

Vito hurries back to the bound men, and I leave him to do his job.

In the office behind the reception desk, Ruby sits with the woman we rescued from the room. She’s draped in a blanket with a steaming mug of tea in her hands and tears sparkling in her eyes. I remain by the doorway to give her the space she needs and get Ruby’s attention with a tilt of my head. Ruby rubs at the woman’s back and murmurs something to her that I can’t hear, then she stands and approaches me.

“How is she?” I ask, looking past her.

“She’s fine. A little shaken up.”

“Need anything? Doctor or anything?”

“No, we’re fine.”

“You sure?” I meet Ruby’s eyes. “I saw blood on the bed.”

“From a broken bottle,” Ruby assures me quickly, gasping my arm. “It’s not her blood. Don’t worry.”

A rush of relief bleeds through me. I pride myself on being a dangerous man, but I’m only dangerous when it comes to keeping people safe. Countless smaller families and businesses rely on my ability to keep them safe.

Here, I’ve failed.

“We’re dealing with one,” I say quietly. “The rest are up to you. I’ll support whatever message you want to send.”

Ruby nods, tucking a strand of pink hair behind her ear and clutching her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “You know how it goes here. We get them drunk and take their money. I guess one of them caught on too quickly or didn’t drink enough and then decided that violence was how he wanted to pay us back.” She shakes her head.

My eyes fall back to her busted lip. “I’m going to make sure the doctor visits.”

“Raffaele, we’re fine.”

“That’s not a request, Ruby. No one goes back to work until she gives the all-clear, understand? And give everyone some time off. I’ll get people in to fix the place and it’ll be as good as new.”

Ruby squints at me, then she sighs and nods. “Fine. Not sure how that fits into your hardcore reputation, though.”

“No one will find out.” I smirk softly. “Keep me updated, okay?”

Ruby leans up and kisses my cheek. “Gotcha.” She returns to the side of the other woman, and I leave quickly, not wanting my presence to linger too long. Part of the reason my business model works is because I don’t hang around. My people don’t have to worry about me, but they know I will be there the second they need me.

I head outside and gaze up at the starry sky, mulling over the next steps. The Irish might seek compensation for the death of their man, and I don’t think the Captain will care much that it’s more than they deserve.

Vito joins me ten minutes later and groans. “I’m pretty sure they work for Hector.”

“Hector O’Brien?” I roll my eyes. “Great. Just when I thought he was too stupid to get involved in my territory again.”

“Could be an honest mistake,” Vito replies. Upon catching my disbelieving glance, he snorts. “Okay, likely not. Maybe the fucker’s just testing the waters. Making sure you’re still around.”

“Why, do people think I’m dead?”

“Nah, but you got married. Everyone always expects some kind of softening when a woman is involved.”

“Those people haven’t met Italian women,” I say flatly as Adelina fills my thoughts. She’s barely spoken to me all week since I told her she couldn’t leave the estate. I just hope she understands that it’s for her own safety.

“Speaking of…” Vito grasps my arm and halts my approach to the car. “I was doing some deeper diving into Pascal.”

“What for?”

“His businesses, mainly. Given the luxury items he deals in, I couldn’t quite understand how he was in debt and struggling while also making such a profit.”

“You think he’s gambling or something?”

“I don’t know,” Vito sighs, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “There’s something not adding up. The amount he spends is vast, but his businesses don’t seem to be profitable. Then he gets regular large cash injections but also still needs to take out loans and needs you to bail him out?”

A sudden prickling warms the back of my neck. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying… it’s almost like he purposely overspends to put himself in debt.”

“Why the fuck would he do that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe so someone can bail him out?”

“That—” My phone trills to life and halts my words as I pull it from my pocket to see Levi’s name flash up on the screen. My stomach knots. “That’s messed up.”

“But concerning enough that I’ll keep digging.”

“Alright.” I hit answer. “Levi?”

“Boss!” His panicked, sharp tone immediately turns my gut into a vat of acid and pain lances up my throat.

“What is it?” I demand sharply.

“It’s Adelina! She’s gone, Boss. She’s gone!”